Part 16 (1/2)

Father in Heaven who lovest all, Oh help Thy children when they call; That they may build from age to age, An undefiled heritage.

Teach us to bear the yoke in youth, With steadfastness and careful truth; That, in our time, Thy Grace may give The Truth whereby the Nations live.

Teach us to rule ourselves alway, Controlled and cleanly night and day; That we may bring, if need arise.

No maimed or worthless sacrifice.

Teach us to look in all our ends, On Thee for judge, and not our friends; That we, with Thee, may walk uncowed By fear or favour of the crowd.

Teach us the Strength that cannot seek, By deed or thought, to hurt the weak; That, under Thee, we may possess Man's strength to comfort man's distress.

Teach us Delight in simple things, And Mirth that has no bitter springs; Forgiveness free of evil done, And Love to all men 'neath the sun!

Land of our Birth, our faith, our pride, For whose dear sake our fathers died; O Motherland, we pledge to thee, Head, heart, and hand through the years to be!

PARADE-SONG OF THE CAMP-ANIMALS

ELEPHANTS OF THE GUN-TEAMS

We lent to Alexander the strength of Hercules, The wisdom of our foreheads, the cunning of our knees.

We bowed our necks to service; they ne'er were loosed again,-- Make way there, way for the ten-foot teams Of the Forty-Pounder train!

GUN-BULLOCKS

Those heroes in their harnesses avoid a cannon-ball, And what they know of powder upsets them one and all; Then _we_ come into action and tug the guns again,-- Make way there, way for the twenty yoke Of the Forty-Pounder train!

CAVALRY HORSES

By the brand on my withers, the finest of tunes Is played by the Lancers, Hussars, and Dragoons, And it's sweeter than 'Stables' or 'Water' to me.

The Cavalry Canter of 'Bonnie Dundee'!

Then feed us and break us and handle and groom, And give us good riders and plenty of room, And launch us in column of squadron and see The Way of the War-horse to 'Bonnie Dundee'!

SCREW-GUN MULES

As me and my companions were scrambling up a hill, The path was lost in rolling stones, but we went forward still; For we can wriggle and climb, my lads, and turn up everywhere, And it's our delight on a mountain height, with a leg or two to spare!

Good luck to every sergeant, then, that lets us pick our road!

Bad luck to all the driver-men that cannot pack a load!

For we can wriggle and climb, my lads, and turn up everywhere, And it's our delight on a mountain height, with a leg or two to spare!

COMMISSARIAT CAMELS

We haven't a camelty tune of our own To help us trollop along, But every neck is a hair-trombone (_Rtt-ta-ta-ta_! is a hair-trombone!) And this is our marching-song: _Can't! Don't! Shan't! Won't!_ Pa.s.s it along the line!

Somebody's pack has slid from his back, 'Wish it were only mine!