3
And now, when Caesar, waxing bold,
Encroaching on the Free—
Would force a Shepherd on the fold
Whose voice the flock would flee;
The trump of freedom swells again,
O’er craggy peak, and fertile plain,
And every son, to Scotland true,
With rapture hails the Banner blue!
No more we seek our father’s sword,
Let rust its gleam infold;
But we will grasp the living Word,
Till death relax our hold;
Nor shall a right by it bestowed.
For which our Martyrs’ blood hath flowed,
Be bartered to a sordid crew,
While Truth unfurls her Banner blue!
The Banner’s folds shall freely wave,
Dipped in the hue of heaven,
Till Truth shall beam on Error’s cave,
And guile from earth be driven ;
For Scotland, braving Falsehood’s rage,
Hath planted on the sacred page,
Unscathed in strength, unchanged in hue,
The badge of Truth—her Banner blue!
May He who cheered our fathers’ heart,
And strung the nerves of youth,
At stake or rack with life to part,
Ere they betrayed the truth,
May He, when foes in torrents pour,
Sustain our faith in peril’s hour,
With favour all our efforts view,
