Above the glow of molten steel,
The roar of furnace, forge, and shed,
Protectress of the City's weal,
Now, Learning rears her loftier head;

That Progress may at length descry
It lacks the clue to guide aright,
And, conscious of its blindness, cry
Unto the Muse, ''More light! More light!''

That Wealth may fitly yield the throne
To Letters, Science, artist-skill,
And Matter, willing subject, own
Mind must be lord and master still.