Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

It is for us the living rather to be dedicated to the unfinished work which thus who fought here have thus so far nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us-that from these honored dead, we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion-that we here should highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain-that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom- and that government of the people, by the people and for the people shall not perish from the earth.

Way out in the land of the setting sun, Where the wind blows wild and free, There’s a lovely spot, just the only one That means home sweet home to me. If you follow the old Kit Carson trail, Until desert meets the hills, Oh you certainly will agree with me, It’s the place of a thousand thrills. Home means Nevada Home means the hills, Home means the sage and the pine. Out by the Truckee, silvery rills, Out where the sun always shines, Here is the land which I love the best, Fairer than all I can see. Deep in the heart of the golden west Home means Nevada to me. Whenever the sun at the close of day, Colors all the western sky, Oh my heart returns to the desert grey And the mountains tow’ring high. Where the moon beams play in shadowed glen, With the spotted fawn and doe, All the live long night until morning light, Is the loveliest place I know. Home means Nevada Home means the hills, Home means the sage and the pines. Out by the Truckee’s silvery rills, Out where the sun always shines, There is the land that I love the best, Fairer than all I can see. Right in the heart of the golden west Home means Nevada to me.