Dear Old Shrine
Come brothers of Psi Upsilon, who trod its halls of yore,
Unbar the ivied gate of years, and tread these halls once more;
The buried jewels glitter still– the ling’ring voices call,
While we, with spirit gaze and grasp, at ancient altars fall.
O dear old shrine,
Our hearts around thee twine;
We love thee yet,
We’ll ne’er forget
The days of auld lang syne.
Come brothers of this later time, of earlier worth the peers,
Who bear the honors of the past along the hurrying years;
Ye keep our temple walls still bright, ye weave wreaths of bay,
Ye feed the hallowed vestal fires we gather round today.
Come brothers of the then and now, one, whom no time can part,
Linked by a chain whose diamond clasp gleams bright above each heart;
Come sing again the good old songs, the mystic bond still bless,
The diamond of Psi Upsilon shall never sparkle less.