Chorus.

Air—"Bend low to the wise-men." from "Utopia." — (Sullivan).

Oh, bend low to this altar,
Where we falter,
Groping blindly in the shadow of mystery;
For as dim as the moontide
Is the noontide
As we bow in the dawn of Life's history.
So bend low to Osiris,
Bow to Isis,
Others too in our impartiality.
We are speechless in wonder
At the thunder
Which heralds each hidden divinity.

(Bis.)—
So bow down in the noonshine
And the moonshine,
Groping blindly in the shadow of mystery.

Now rise up from your slumber.
Let us number
All the students of this great University
At the shrine on the top floor,
By the hop floor,
There to worship in greatest diversity.
'Tis. the pride of the College,
All acknowledge,
And the priestess beams smiling civility;
She would never spoil sport or
Pour cold water
When you worship with fitting humility.

(Bis.)—
So make way for the priestess,
Nor go feastless,
All ye students of this great University.