Blessed with gifts of old age and glad youth,
Guided still by the deeds of those gone long before,
Moving on with the great, living truth.
Works of honor, all frosted with winters of time,
Shade the fruits that in springtime will bloom;
'T is the toil of the past which still strengthens our growth,
And makes light out of darkness to loom.
As the drops from the rain - clouds descend to the earth,
Pouring vigor and life all around,
Giving growth to the plants and upswelling the streams,
And imparting fresh green to the ground,
So, great Source of our Knowledge, instil thy pure drops
In the ground of our learning's poor store,
That, refreshed, we may join the great stream of the world,
As glad offshoots of Seventy - Four!
Alma Mater, receive a deep heart - felt farewell
From thy scions, as onward they glide,
Floating gently to meet the swift ocean of life,
Looking on at the quick - coming tide.
Deep oppressed by the feelings that now we must part,
As the stream grows as broad as can be,
We but gaze at our sun sinking slow in the west,
Sure to rise clear from out our great sea.