Australia Infelix

HOW long, O Lord, shall this, my country, be  
 A nation of the dead? How long shall they  
Who seek their own and live but for the day,  
My country hinder from her destiny?  
Around me, Lord, I seem again to see  
That ancient valley where the dry bones lay,  
And ’tis in vain that long I wait and pray  
To see them rise to men resolved and free.  
Yet sure, O Lord, upon this land of death  
At last Thy Spirit will descend with power;  
And Thou wilt kindle patriots with Thy breath,  
Who, venturing all to win their country’s good,  
Shall toil and suffer for the sacred hour  
That brings the fullness of her nationhood.