Never too late the call to answer
never too late the service to render
in patriotism our strength triumph
in piety our loyalty resound
oh, service to father land?
The ravaging feat of the wicked we
solemnly bewail at this time of
national recession. In some
climes of idleness, victory song
of abracadabra quiver
the land but to us, the minority,
not in tribe but in loyalty and
patriotism, it is like the victory of the
fleeting star whose triumph does
not last. The new temple lacks the
sacred touch of the ancient and yet
its transient glow gladdens the youth whose
mien cannot but pamper modernity.
Wait not for too long, father land!
your children, your true children
will come from the far conner
of the earth and beautify you
not too long from now
in true service we shall arise and
sing the sacred royal anthem
cast with the sacred blood
of our forefathers. We shall serve thee
with our bloods and sweats, our tears
shall make thee happy. The season
of the lepers draws so soon to
its end and in preparedness
we wait to give our best to
the greatness of thee, Oh fatherland!