Lost to the cause is every soldier's best.
The men at home, the toiler in the shop,
The keen-eyed watcher of the spinning drill
Hear no command to vault the trench's top;
They know not what it is to die or kill,
And yet they must be brave and constant, too.
Upon them lies their precious country's fate;
They also serve the Flag as soldiers do,
'Tis theirs to make a nation's army great.
You hold your country's honor in your care.
Her glory you shall help to make or mar;
For they, who now her uniforms must wear
Can be no braver soldiers than you are.
From day to day, in big and little deeds,
At bench or lathe or desk or stretch of soil,
You are the man your country sorely needs!
Will you not give to her your finest toil?
No war is won by cannon fire alone.
The men at home must also share the fight.
By what they are, a nation's strength is shown,
The army but reflects their love of right.
Will you not help to hold our battle line,
Will you not give the fullest of your powers
In sacrifice and service that is fine
That victory shall speedily be ours?
We have wandered afar in our hunting for pleasure,
We have scorned the soul's duty to gather up treasure;
We have lived for our laughter and toiled for our winning
And paid little heed to the soul's simple sinning.
But light were the burdens that freighted us then,
God and country, to-day let us prove we are men!
We have idled and dreamed in life's merriest places,
The years have writ little of care in our faces;
We have brought up our children, expectant of gladness,
And little we've taught them of life and its sadness.
For distant and dim seemed the forces of wrong,
God and country, to-day let us prove we are strong!
We have had our glad years, now the sad years are coming,
We have danced to gay tunes, now we march to war's drumming.
We have laughed and have loved as we pleasantly toiled,
And now we must show that our souls are unspoiled.
We must work that our Flag shall in honor still wave,
God and country, to-day let us prove we are brave!
Forgotten petty difference now,
The larger purpose glows,
The storm is here, a common fear
Its deadly lightning shows.
The Ship of State must bear us all
And danger makes us kin,
As one, we all shall rise or fall,
So shall we strive to win.
Our banner's flying at the mast,
Our course lies straight ahead;
The ocean's trough is deep and rough,
The waves are stained with red.
The bond of danger tighter grows,
We serve a common plan;
Send o'er the sea the word that we
Are all American.
One hundred million sturdy souls
Once more united stand,
As one, you will find them all behind
The banner of our land.
And side by side they work to-day
In silken garb or rag,
And once again our troops of men
Are brothers of the flag.
And from the storm that hovers low,
And from the angry sea
Where dangers lurk and hate's at work.
Shall come new victory.
The flag shall know not race nor creed,
Nor different bands of men;
A people strong round it shall throng
To ne'er divide again.
Listen to the laughter of the brook that's racin' by!
Listen to the chatter of the black-birds on the fence!
Stand an' see the beauties of the blue that's in the sky—
Then ask of God why mortals haven't any better sense
Than to quarrel an' to battle
Where the guns an' cannon rattle
An' to slaughter one another an' to fill the world with hate.
God brings the buds to blossom
Where the gentle breezes toss 'em
An' the soul is blind to beauty that takes anger for its mate.
Listen to the singin' of the robins in the trees!
See the sunbeams flashin' where they're mirrored by the stream!
Hear the drowsy buzzin' of the honey-seekin' bees,
Then draw a little closer to your God the while you dream.
When the world is dressed to cheer you
Don't you feel Him standin' near you?
When your soul drinks in the beauty of the wonders in His plan,
An' you've put away your passions,
Don't you think the works He fashions
In their beauty an' their bigness mock the littleness of man?
Oh, I never walk an orchard nor a field with daisies strewn,
An' I never stand bare-headed gazin' everywhere about
At the living joys around me, be it morning, night or noon,
But I ask God to forgive me that I ever held a doubt.
Surely men must walk in blindness,
With the whole world tuned to kindness,
An' all dumb an' feathered creatures fairly bubblin' o'er with glee
To devote themselves to madness
That can only end in sadness
An' to think that they are being what God put them here to be.
He was just a small church parson when the war broke out, and he
Looked and dressed and acted like all parsons that we see.
He wore the cleric's broadcloth and he hooked his vest behind,
But he had a man's religion and he had a strong man's mind,
And he heard the call to duty, and he quit his church and went,
And he bravely tramped right with 'em everywhere the boys were sent.
He put aside his broadcloth and he put the khaki on;
Said he'd come to be a soldier and was going to live like one.
Then he refereed the prize fights that the boys pulled off at night,
And if no one else was handy he'd put on the gloves and fight.
He wasn't there a fortnight ere he saw the soldiers' needs,
And he said: "I'm done with preaching; this is now the time for deeds."
He learned the sound of shrapnel, he could tell the size of shell
From the shriek it make above him, and he knew just where it fell.
In the front line trench he labored, and he knew the feel of mud,
And he didn't run from danger and he wasn't scared of blood.
He wrote letters for the wounded, and he cheered them with his jokes,
And he never made a visit without passing round the smokes.
Then one day a bullet got him, as he knelt beside a lad
Who was "going west" right speedy, and they both seemed mighty glad,
'Cause he held the boy's hand tighter, and he smiled and whispered low,
"Now you needn't fear the journey; over there with you I'll go."
And they both passed out together, arm in arm I think they went.
He had kept his vow to follow everywhere the boys were sent.
I may never be a hero, I am past the limit now,
There are pencil marks of silver Time has left upon my brow;
I shall win no service medals, I shall hear no cannons' roar,
I shall never fight a battle higher up than eagles soar,
But I hope my children's children may recall my name with pride
As a man who never whimpered when his soul was being tried.
For the fighting and the dying for the everlasting truth
Are the labors designated for the strongest of our youth,
And the man that's nearing forty isn't asked to march away,
For there is no place in battle for the head that's turning gray.
His test is one of patience till the bitter work is done,
He must back his country's leaders till the victory is won.
When this bitter time is ended I don't want to have it said
That I faltered in my courage and I never looked ahead,
I don't want it told I added to the burdens and the woe,
By preaching dismal doctrines that were cheering to the foe;
I want my children's children to respect me and to find
That my soul was out there fighting, though my body stayed behind.
When this cruel test is over and the boys come back from France
I'd not have them say I hindered for a moment their advance;
That they found their duty harder than 'twas needful it should be
Because of the complaining of a lot of men like me.
Though I'll win no hero's medals and deserve no wild applause,
I want to be of service, not a hindrance to the cause.
Some will heed the call to arms,
But all must heed the call to grit;
The dreamers on the distant farms
Must rally now to do their bit.
The whirring lathes in factories great
Will sing the martial songs of strife;
Upon the emery wheel of fate
We're grinding now the nation's life.
The call is not alone to guns,
This is not but a battle test;
The world has summoned free men's sons
In every field to do their best.
The call has come to every man
To reach the summit of his powers;
To stand to service where he can;
A mighty duty now is ours.
We must be stalwarts in the field
Where peace has always kept her throne,
No door against the need is sealed,
No man to-day can live alone.
The young apprentice at the bench,
The wise inventor, old and gray,
Serve with the soldier in the trench,
All warriors for the better day.
Oh, man of science, unto you
The call for service now has come!
Mechanic, banker, lawyer, too,
Have you not heard the stirring drum?
Oh, humble digger in the ditch,
Bend to your spade and do your best,
And prove America is rich
In manhood fine for every test.
Each man beneath the starry flag
Must live his noblest through the strife
If tyranny is not to drag
Into the mire the best of life.
Though some will wear our uniform,
We face to-day a common fate
And all must bravely breast the storm
And heed the call for courage great.
For strength to face the battle's might,
For men that dare to die for right,
For hearts above the lure of gold
And fortune's soft and pleasant way,
For courage of our days of old,
Great God of All, we kneel and pray.
We thank Thee for our splendid youth.
Who fight for liberty and truth,
Within whose breasts there glows anew
The glory of the altar fires
Which our heroic fathers knew—
God make them worthy of their sires!