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When, Lord, to this, our Western land 
 When, Lord, to this, our Western land, Led by providential hand, Our wandering fathers came, Their ancient homes, their friends in youth, Sent forth the heralds of thy truth, To keep them in thy name. 
 Then, through our solitary coast. The desert features soon were lost; Thy temples there arose; Our shores, as culture made them fair, Were hallow'd by thy rites, by pray'r, And blossom'd as the rose. 
 And O! may we repay this debt To regions solitary yet Within our spreading land! There, brethren, from our common home, Still westward, like our fathers, roam; Still guided by thy hand. 
 Saviour! we own this debt of love: O shed thy Spirit from above. To move each Christian breast; Till heralds shall thy truth proclaim, And temples rise to fix thy name. Through all our desert, west.