Who worked in darkness - onward fought their ways To bring about these large majestic days -Who left their sons the hearts and high desires Which built this city of the hundred spires!
A stately Morning rises on the wing, The hills take colour, and the valleys sing.
A strong September flames beyond the lea -A silver vision on a silver sea.
A new Age, ``cast in a diviner mould'', Comes crowned with lustre, zoned and shod with gold!
What dream is this on lawny spaces set?
What miracle of dome and minaret?
What great mute majesty is this that takes The first of morning ere the song-bird wakes?
Lo, this was built to honour gathering lands By Celtic, Saxon, Australasian hands!
These are the halls where all the flags unfurled Break into speech that welcomes all the world.
And lo, our friends are here from every zone -From isles we dream of and from tracts unknown!
Here are the fathers from the stately space Where Ireland is and England's sacred face!
Here are the Norsemen from their strong sea-wall, The grave, grand Teuton and the brilliant Gaul!
From green, sweet groves the dark-eyed Lusians sail, And proud Iberia leaves the grape-flushed vale.
Here are the lords whose starry banner shines From fierce Magellan to the Arctic pines.
Here come the strangers from the gates of day -From hills of sunrise and from white Cathay.
The spicy islands send their swarthy sons, The lofty North its mailed and mighty ones.
Venetian keels are floating on our sea;
Our eyes are glad with radiant Italy!
Yea, North and South, and glowing West and East, Are gathering here to grace our splendid feast!
The chiefs from peaks august with Asian snow, The elders born where regal roses grow, Come hither, with the flower of that fair land That blooms beyond the fiery tracts of sand Where Syrian suns their angry lustres fling Across blind channels of the bygone spring.
And on this great, auspicious day, the flowers Of labour glorify majestic hours.
The singing angel from the starry sphere Of dazzling Science shows his wonders here;And Art, the dream-clad spirit, starts, and brings From Fairyland her strange, sweet, glittering things.
Here are the works man did, what time his face Was touched by God in some exalted place;Here glows the splendour - here the marvel wrought When Heaven flashed upon the maker's thought!
Yea, here are all the miracles sublime -
The lights of Genius and the stars of Time!
And, being lifted by this noble noon, Australia broadens like a tropic moon.
Her white, pure lustre beams across the zones;The nations greet her from their awful thrones.
From hence the morning beauty of her name Will shine afar, like an exceeding flame.
Her place will be with mighty lords, whose sway Controls the thunder and the marching day.
Her crown will shine beside the crowns of kings Who shape the seasons, rule the course of things, The fame of her across the years to be Will spread like light on a surpassing sea;And graced with glory, girt with power august, Her life will last till all things turn to dust.
To Thee the face of song is lifted now, O Lord! to whom the awful mountains bow;Whose hands, unseen, the tenfold storms control;Whose thunders shake the spheres from pole to pole;Who from Thy highest heaven lookest down, The sea Thy footstool, and the sun Thy crown;Around whose throne the deathless planets sing Hosannas to their high, eternal King.
To Thee the soul of prayer this morning turns, With faith that glitters, and with hope that burns!
And, in the moments of majestic calm That fill the heart in pauses of the psalm, She asks Thy blessing for this fair young land That flowers within the hollow of Thine hand!
She seeks of Thee that boon, that gift sublime, The Christian radiance, for this hope of Time!
And Thou wilt listen! and Thy face will bend To smile upon us - Master, Father, Friend!
The Christ to whom pure pleading heart hath crept Was human once, and in the darkness wept;The gracious love that helped us long ago Will on us like a summer sunrise flow, And be a light to guide the nation's feet On holy paths - on sacred ways and sweet.
