In the house of prayer we enter, through its aisles our course we wend,
And before the sacred altar on our knees we humbly bend;
Craving, for a young immortal, God's beneficence and grace,
That, through Christ's unfailing succor, she may win the victor race.
Water from baptismal fountain rests on a "young soldier," sworn
By the cross' holy signet to defend the "Virgin-born."
May she never faint or falter in the raging war of sin,
And, encased in Faith's tried armor, a triumphant conquest win!
To the Triune One our darling trustingly we now commend,
And for full and free salvation, from our hearts pure thanks ascend.