We’ll sit in a magic circle,
    And we’ll sing the days of yore;
Words of praise to the Sisters living,
    Of peace for the dead gone before.

    Then sing ho, for the feast and be merry.
To the custom old be true;
Sing ho, for the Servants of Mary.
    Hurrah! for the order in blue.

We’ll sing of congratulation,
    Of long life, then peace, and rest,
To our Jubilarians closing
    Their twenty-five years professed.

We’ll sing of the log convent,
    Our home on the Michigan shore,
Till remembrance brings back the faces
    That will smile in our own never more.

We’ll sing of our Mount Saint Mary,
    Where the bonnie breezes blow,
Our own, and our own forever,
    As long as the rivers flow.

We’ll sing of our stately college,
    With its classic doors thrown wide,
And the rank and file of students,
    A great city’s hope and pride.

We’ll sing of our halls of learning,
    Renowned throughout the state;
All receiving recognition
    From the good, the wise, the great.

We’ll sing of our endeavor
    To spread the great kingdom of God,
By leading a child to the Master,
    Along the way which He trod.