The pure, the bright, the beautiful
That stirred our hearts in youth;
The longings after something lost;
The impulse to a wordless pray’r

The dreams of love and truth;
Revivings of our better hopes;
The spirits yearning to cry;
These things can never die

The pure, the bright, the beautiful
These things can never die
The pure, the bright, the beautiful
Thеse things can never diе

The timid hand stretch forth to aid
A brother in his need
The kindly word in grief's dark hour
That proves a friend indeed

The plea for mercy, softly breathed
When justice threatens high
The sorrow of a contrite heart
These things can never die

The pure, the bright, the beautiful
These things can never die
The pure, the bright, the beautiful
These things can never die
The cruel and bitter word
That bounded as it fell;
The chilling want of sympathy
We feel, but never tell

The hard repulse that chills the heart
Whose hopes were bounding high
In an unfading record kept
These things can never die