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. 

Chorus: 
The pure, the bright, the beautiful, 
These things can never die. 
The pure, the bright, the beautiful, 
These things can never die. 

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. 

Chorus: 
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.