Hold High The Brow Serene,

It Is A Useless Life That Is Not Consecrated To A Great Ideal. It Is Like A Stone Wasted On The Field Without Becoming A Part Of Any Edifice.

Hold High The Brow Serene, O Youth, Where Now You Stand; Let The Bright Sheen Of Your Grace Be Seen, Fair Hope Of My Fatherland!

No One Blames A Pilot Who Takes Refuge In Port When The Storm Begins To Blow. It Is Not Cowardice To Duck Under A Bullet; What Is Wrong Is To Defy It Only To Fall And Never Rise Again.

For Myself I Think That One Wrong Does Not Right The Other, And Forgiveness Cannot Be Won With Useless Tears Or Alms To The Church.

While A People Preserves Its Language; It Preserves The Marks Of Liberty.