The pure, the bright, the beautiful
That stirred our hearts in youth,
The impulses to wordless prayer,
The streams of love and truth,
The longing after something lost,
The spirit’s yearning cry,
The striving after better hopes
These things can never die.
The timid hand stretched forth to aid
A brother in his need;
A kindly word in griefs dark hour
That proves a friend indeed;
for mercy softly breathed.
When justice threatens high,
The sorrow of a contrite heart
These things shall never die.
Let nothing pass, for every hand
Must find some work to do,
Lose not a chance to waken love
Be firm and just and true.
So shall a light that cannot fade
Beam on thee from on high,
And angel voices say to thee
“These things shall never die.”