But still we love each altar and each cross
Of these dear fanes; e'en as departing rays
Of sun doth kiss the crags outlined with moss,
We love to linger by their altars' light.
But oh fair Carmel, she of Missions Queen
What guarding spirits hover here unseen!

Sweet Carmel, center of the hero-band,
What holy treasures hold thy sacred vaults?
Junipero and others! Here we stand
In awe of all thou hast been and art still!
Cruel times took glory, splendor, power
From Missions all, but not their priceless dower,

Religion, love and all we hold as dear,
No hand can tarnish and no might destroy,
And from each hallowed altar ruddy, clear,
Still burns the mystic lamp, for God is there!
The cross-crowned towers tell that all is not dead,
E'en though more splendid times have long since sped.

And like a glowing ember in the night
Our Lady's love has burned through every change;
'Tis thus the Missions ever saw the light
Through labors, ripened harvest-joys and wrongs;
Their noon-sun splendors of well won renown
Will shine their glorious heritage to crown.

O Saintly Serra we implore thy prayer,