Union Academy Alma Mater

by Phila Butler Bowman Smith

There's a place we call Old Union - a spot our hearts hold dear,
Though our feet in paths afar from her may roam;
There's a hand outstreched to guide us to ways of truth and right,
There's a loving voice that calls her children home.

Then hail to thee, Old Union though we be far or near,
Our hearts will cry, "Thou art our mother yet!"
Thy loving precepts ever,
Inspire our souls to right;
We may leave thee, but we never shall forget.

Here within the minds fair garden,
We learned to sow the seed,
That shall spring to fruitage 'neath our eager eyes.
Here we laid foundations lowly,
Beleath they watchful eye,
For the temples that immortal shall arise.