Not ours nobility of this world's giving
Granted by monarchs of some earthly throne;
Not this life only which is worth the living,
Nor honor here worth striving for alone.
Princes are we, and of a line right royal;
Heirs are we of a glorious realm above;
Yet bound to service humble, true, and loyal,
For thus constraineth us our Monarch's love.
And looking to the joy that lies before us,
The crown held out to our once fallen race;
Led by the light that ever shineth o'er us,
Man is restored to nature's noblest place.
_Noblesse oblige_--(our very watchword be it!)
To raise the fallen from this low estate,
To boldly combat wrong whene'er we see it,
To render good for evil, love for hate.
_Noblesse oblige_--to deeds of valiant daring
In alien lands which other lords obey,
And into farthest climes our standard bearing,
To lead them captive 'neath our Master's sway.
_Noblesse oblige_--that, grudging not our treasure,
Nor seeking any portion to withhold,
We freely give it, without stint or measure,
Whate'er it be--our talents, time, or gold.
_Noblesse oblige_--that, looking upward ever,
We serve our King with courage, faith, and love,
Till, through that grace which can from death deliver,
We claim our noble heritage above!