Roughing It in the Bush

Canada, the blest-the free With prophetic glance, I see Visions of thy future glory, Giving to the world's great story A page, with mighty meaning fraught, That asks a wider range of thought. Borne onward on the wings of Time, I trace thy future course sublime; And feel my anxious lot grow bright, While musing on the glorious sight;- My heart rejoicing bounds with glee To hail thy noble destiny