[Sung at the Opening of the Queensland National Society's Exhibition, br 1876.] br While nations joining gifts br Their fanes of Art adorn, br Hear, Lord, the lowly voice that lifts br The song of the youngest-born. br The gifts of the youngest-born, br We spread them forth to Thee,— br What toil hath wrought, what skill hath taught, br What Freedom hath brought the free. br br No storied name we vaunt, br Nor martial trophies raise; br No battle-riven banners flaunt br The triumphs of other days. br But triumphs of peaceful days br Adorn our jubilee: br Here toil and skill Thine ends fulfil, br With hands that from blood are free. br br We pile the arms of Peace, br Her trophies manifold, br Her ploughshare swords, her shields of fleece, br Her armour of bloodless gold. br Our treasures of fleece and gold br We consecrate to Thee, br With choicest yield of fruitful field, br And spoil from the forest-tree. br br We bless Thee for our land, br Broad streams and gladdening rills, br For flocks that roam on ev'ry hand, br For herds on a thousand hills. br From all its thousand hills br Our land doth call to Thee, br Still do Thou bless with happiness br This youngest of the free.