Part 11 (2/2)

”Do your bit!” of course, but then Do it time and time again; Giving, doing, all should be Up to full capacity.

Now's no time to pick and choose, We've a war we must not lose.

Be your duty great or small, Do it well and do it all.

Do by careful, patient living, Do by cheerful, open giving; Do by serving day by day At whatever post you may; Do by sacrificing pleasure, Do by scorning hours of leisure.

Now to G.o.d and country give Every minute that you live.

The Future

”The worst is yet to come:”

So wail the doubters glum, But here's the better view: ”My best I've yet to do.”

The worst some always fear; To-morrow holds no cheer, Yet farther on life's lane Are joys you shall attain.

Go forward bravely, then, And play your part as men, For this is ever true: ”Our best we've yet to do.”

A Father's Prayer

I sometimes wonder when I read the sorrow in his face If I shall wear that look of care when time has marched apace?

My little boy is five years old and his is twenty-one; My little boy is home with me; his boy to war has gone.

And I can laugh and dance with life, and I can gayly jest, But heavy is the heart to-day that beats within his breast.

Time was, his boy was five years old; time was he smiled as I; I wonder what awaits for me when youth has journeyed by?

Last night I sat at home and watched my little boy at play, And all the time I thought of him whose boy has gone away.

And in the joy that I possessed I prayed in silence then That G.o.d would quickly bring him back his little boy again.

The Glory of Age

”What is the glory of age?” I said, ”A h.o.a.rd of gold and a few dear friends?

When you've reached the day that you look ahead And see the place where your journey ends, When Time has robbed you of youthful might-- What is the secret of your delight?”

And an old man smiled as he answered me: ”The glory of age isn't gold or friends, When we've reached the valley of Soon-To-Be And note the place where our journey ends; The glory of age, be it understood, Is a boy out there who is making good.

”The greatest joy that can come to man When his sight is dim and his hair is gray; The greatest glory that G.o.d can plan To cheer the lives of the old to-day, When they share no more in the battle yell, Is a boy out there who is doing well.”

Beautifying the Flag

To us the Flag has little meant.

Each glorious stripe of red Was woven there to represent The blood of heroes dead.

On some dim, distant battle line By other men were gained The glories that have made it fine, And idle we've remained.

But now the Flag shall finer grow And ages yet to be Shall find the courage that we show To-day for liberty.

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