My Country's like a Patch Work Quilt
God spread from State to state.
Brought forth by His own Providence.
'T'was God who made it great...
But strangers crept in unaware...
to skilfully detach..
While good men slept they sowed tares
through each andevery patch.
As this unfinished Patch Work Quilt,
So is my Native Land...
Moved only by her Maker...
and mended by His hand.