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 God would quickly bring him back his little boy again.

The Glory of Age

"What is the glory of age?" I said,
"A hoard 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 God 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.

Of other men the Flag has told;
It flies for others' deeds;
Its pride is born of heroes bold
Who served its by-gone needs.
But now our blood shall mingle there
With