Beneath our Western skies fulfill
The Orient’s mission of good will,
And, freighted with Love’s Golden Fleece,
Send back the Argonauts of Peace.
For Art and Labor, met in truce,
For Beauty made the bride of Use,
We thank Thee; while, withal, we crave
The austere virtues, strong to save,—
The Honor, proof to place or gold,
The Manhood, never bought nor sold.