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emoaned; There are victories though silent, Where grim monarchs are dethroned; There are scenes of strife and foray Where gigantic forces strive For the mastery and triumph Of the ends for which they live. There are forces more puissant Than ten million armed men, There are banners that are emblems Of the mighty tongue and pen, That reflect upon their blazon Honest purpose grand and true, Such as never graced the victors Of Sedan and Waterloo. There are weapons in these contests Keener than the Damask blade, There are metals of such temper As no crucible e'er made; For the dross must be extracted In the furnace of the soul Till no refuse or pollution Shall defile the perfect whole. Though this army counts its millions, Each must face alone the foe, Each must bring a special weapon, Each must strike himself the blow That shall free him from the shackles Of that despot and his train, Who with ignorance and vices Would destroy the heart and brain. Our true sword is Education And grim Ignorance our foe; We are battling with our passions, And our spirits are aglow With a full determination To accept the proven truth That the days of precious seed-time, Are the sunny days of youth. Day by day the contest rages And each task that's daily done, Brings a soothing satisfaction That another victory's won. Thus the strength we gain in action Aids in each succeeding strife, To make the struggles lighter In the battles of our life. There are avenues and byways Which lead into the heart, Whose intricate environments Require the highest art To tell what inspiration Shall touch a dormant mind, And fire it with a living zeal For a station more refined. It is only voice of music That speaks universal tongue; It matters not in what accent A sweet melody is sung, It will find responsive feelings Which will aptly understand Though it be of unknown measure And sung in a foreign land. We come with our martial music, With our noisy fife and drum To inspire the weak and weary, To open the mouths of the dumb, To train our every emotion
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