Up from the mists of marsh and fen,
Up from the gloom of the glen,
The mountains rise to kiss the skies,
They spurn the plain that lowly lies—
Up from the forest’s fitful shade,
Up to the heights that God hath made.
Up from the stains of sordid strife,
Up to a loftier life
My spirit cries, “Aspire! aspire!”
Climb we the heights from high to higher