FOOTNOTE:
[25] Used by permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co., authorized
publishers of this author's works.
THE RECESSIONAL
RUDYARD KIPLING
God of our fathers, known of old--
Lord of our far-flung battle line--
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine;
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget,--lest we forget.
The tumult and the shouting dies,
The captains and the kings depart--
Still stands thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget,--lest we forget.
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not thee in awe--
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget,--lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard--
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy mercy on thy people, Lord!
THE SACREDNESS OF WORK
THOMAS CARLYLE
All true work is sacred; in all true hand-labor, there is something of
divineness.
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