America, o, say, can you see
This land was made for you and me?
Your amber waves of grain across your fruited plain
But when your bells of freedom ring
It’s hard to hear the angels sing

America, land that I love
Through the night, with the light from God above
Shed His grace on thee, from sea to shining sea
But when your bells of freedom ring
It’s hard to hear the angels sing

You can hate me for what I do or what I say
You can hate me for where I’m from or how I pray
You can hate me for what I’ve got
You can hate me for what I’m not
But when your bells of freedom ring
It’s hard to hear the angels sing

America, it’s on the line
So, let the Lord’s Holy light forever shine
God shed his grace on thee from sea to shining sea
But when your bells of freedom ring
It’s hard to hear the angels sing

It’s hard to hear the angels sing
It’s hard to hear the angels sing