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Multiculturalism and unbridled Third World immigration have killed it.
What kind of self-proclaimed expert would value this at $100,000? These are not that uncommon and typically sell for about $3,000! Maybe someone will take him up on his bet that it will be worth 1 million dollars some day.
http://www.rrauction.com/past_auction_item.cfm?ID=3128020
Wow, what a great find! Just in case anyone cares.
1
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From every mountainside
Let freedom ring!
2
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills,
Like that above.
3
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.
4
Our father's God to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing.
Long may our land be bright,
With freedom's holy light,
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God our King.
Also, Smith attended Harvard from 1825 to 1829, and was a classmate of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.. He did translations from various foreign languages into English and wrote magazine and newspaper articles to raise funds for his tuition. He received many honors on his graduation in 1829, and at first went into journalism before deciding to become a minister, which led to his beginning his studies at Andover.
Smith added other lines to celebrate Washington's Centennial.
Our joyful hearts today,
Their grateful tribute pay,
Happy and free,
After our toils and fears,
After our blood and tears,
Strong with our hundred years,
O God, to Thee.
Additional Verses by Henry Van Dyke (see CPDL version link below)
We love thine inland seas,
Thy groves and giant trees,
Thy rolling plains;
Thy rivers' mighty sweep,
Thy mystic canyons deep,
Thy mountains wild and steep,--
All thy domains.
Thy silver Eastern strands,
Thy Golden Gate that stands
Fronting the West;
Thy flowery Southland fair,
Thy North's sweet, crystal air:
O Land beyond compare,
We love thee best!
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