God of our land, our father's God, receive

The hymn we raise to Thine all-holy name.

Thy crown the ministering ages weave

Of suns celestial, galaxies of flame.

To Thee one day is as a thousand years,

A thousand years to Thee are but a day,

A flower of endless time, bedewed with tears,

Which glorifies its God, and fades away—

Our thousand years,

A flower of endless time, bedewed with tears,

Which glorifies its God and fades away.

God of our Iceland, now with burning heart

We offer Thee this sacrifice of praise;

From age to age Thou, Lord, our Father art;

Our holy anthem unto Thee we raise:

To Thee, as now are told our thousand years,

We sing, for other refuge have we none:

To Thee our voices lift, midst falling tears,

Great Shaper of our lot, whilst ages run.

Our thousand years!

Midst gloom of morning twilight, lo! our tears,

Lit with the glory of the rising sun.

God of our land, our father's God, behold!

We are but fading flower and withering grass;

If Thou be not our light and life, to mould,

After spring's transient gleam, we fade and pass.

Be, Lord, each morn a spring of endless life;

Our Captain midst the battle of the day;

At eve our heavenly resting place from strife,

The Leader of Thy people's pilgrim way.

Our thousand years!

Increase the nation! Wipe away all tears!

We join the Host of God towards the day!