A fire was kindled on the plain
Of Lexington that gloweth yet;
Each blood drop from a patriot's heart
A lasting horror did beget,
Of tyrant's chain and despot's rule,
With which our sorrowing world is full.

Here on your altars glows the flame
Sacred to Truth and Charity;
Each Craft before the Sacred Name
Bows low in mute sincerity;
And peace has, like a spirit, shone
Within the walls of Lexington .

So mote it be till time shall end!
May circling ages bless the Band
That build the Mystic Temple here,
And round the Mystic Altar stand!
Eternity shall gild the flame
Of Lexington's thrice-honored name!