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The Call
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.
Thanksgiving
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!
We thank Thee for our mothers fair
Who through the sorrows they must bear
Still smile, and give their hearts to woe,
Yet bravely heed the day’s command–
That mothers, yet to be, may know
A free and glorious motherland.
Oh, God, we thank Thee for the skies
Where our flag now in glory flies!
We thank Thee that no love of gain
Is leading us, but that we fight
To keep our banner free from stain
And that we die for what is right.
Oh, God, we thank Thee that we may
Lift up our eyes to Thee to-day;
We thank Thee we can face this test
With honor and a spotless name,
And that we serve a world distressed
Unselfishly and free from shame.
A Patriotic Wish
I’d like to be the sort of man the flag could boast about;
I’d like to be the sort of man it cannot live without;
I’d like to be the type of man
That really is American:
The head-erect and shoulders-square,
Clean-minded fellow, just and fair,
That all men picture when they see
The glorious banner of the free.
I’d like to be the sort of man the flag now typifies,
The kind of man we really want the flag to symbolize;
The loyal brother to a trust,
The big, unselfish soul and just,
The friend of every man oppressed,
The strong support of all that’s best–
The sturdy chap the banner’s meant,
Where’er it flies, to represent.
I’d like to be the sort of man the flag’s supposed to mean,
The man that all in fancy see, wherever it is seen;
The chap that’s ready for a fight
Whenever there’s a wrong to right,
The friend in every time of need,
The doer of the daring deed,
The clean and generous handed man
That is a real American.