He shall be great who serves his country well.

He shall be loved who ever guards her fame.

His worth the starry banner long shall tell, Who loves his land too much to stoop to shame.

Who shares the splendor of these sunny skies Has freedom as his birthright, and may know Rich fellowship with comrades brave and wise; Into the realms of manhood he may go.

Who writes, "United States" beside his name Offers a pledge that he himself is true; Gives guarantee that selfishness or shame Shall never mar the work he finds to do.

He is received world-wide as one who lives Above the sordid dreams of petty gain, And is reputed as a man who gives His best to others in their hours of pain.

This is the heritage of Freedom's soil: High purposes and lofty goals to claim.

And he shall be rewarded for his toil Who loves his land too much to stoop to shame.

When My Ship Comes In

You shall have satin and silk to wear, When my ship comes in; And jewels to shine in your raven hair, When my ship comes in.

Oh, the path is dreary to-day and long, And little I've brought to your life of song, But the dream still lives and the faith is strong, When my ship comes in.

Gold and silver are pledged to you, When my ship comes in; I pay with this promise for all you do, When my ship comes in.

Oh, fairest partner man ever had, It's little I've brought you to make you glad Save the whispered suggestion in moments sad, When my ship comes in.

Though crowded with treasures should be her hold, When my ship comes in, I never can pay for the charms of old, When my ship comes in.

The strength I have taken from you has fled, The time for the joys that you craved has sped, I must pay for your gold with the dullest lead, When my ship comes in.

Too late, too late will the treasures be, When my ship comes in.

For Age shall stand with us on the quay, When my ship comes in.

For the love you've given and the faith you've shown, But a glimpse of the joys that you might have known Will it then be yours on that day to own, When my ship comes in.

The Children

The children bring us laughter, and the children bring us tears; They string our joys, like jewels bright, upon the thread of years; They bring the bitterest cares we know, their mothers' sharpest pain, Then smile our world to loveliness, like sunshine after rain.

The children make us what we are; the childless king is spurned; The children send us to the hills where glories may be earned; For them we pledge our lives to strife, for them do mothers fade, And count in new-born loveliness their sacrifice repaid.

The children bring us back to G.o.d; in eyes that dance and shine Men read from day to day the proof of love and power divine; For them are fathers brave and good and mothers fair and true, For them is every cherished dream and every deed we do.

For children are the furnace fires of life kept blazing high; For children on the battle fields are soldiers pleased to die; In every place where humans toil, in every dream and plan, The laughter of the children shapes the destiny of man.

The Comedian

Whatever the task and whatever the risk, wherever the flag's in air, The funny man with his sunny ways is sure to be laughing there.

There are men who fret, there are men who dream, men making the best of it, But whether it's hunger or death they face, Or burning thirst in a desert place, There is always one, by the good Lord's grace, Who is making a jest of it.

He travels wherever his brothers go and he leaves his home behind him, The need for smiles he seems to know; in the ranks of death you'll find him.

When some are weary and sick and faint, and all with the dust are choking, He dances there with a spirit gay, And tints with gold what is drab and gray, And into the gloom of the night and day He scatters his mirthful joking.

He wins to courage the soul-tried men; he lightens their hours of sorrow; He turns their thoughts from the grief that is to the joy that may come to-morrow.

He mocks at death and he jests at toil, as one that is never weary; He j.a.pes at danger and discipline, Or the muddy trench that he's standing in; There's nothing can banish his merry grin, Or dampen his spirits cheery.

The honors of war to its heroes go; for them are the pomp and glory, But seldom it is that the types relate a victory's inside story.

And few shall know when the strife is done and the history's made hereafter, How much depended on him who stirred The souls of men with a cheerful word, And kept them brave by a jest absurd, And brightened their days with laughter.

Faith

It is faith that bridges the land of breath To the realms of the souls departed, That comforts the living in days of death, And strengthens the heavy-hearted.

It is faith in his dreams that keeps a man Face front to the odds about him, And he shall conquer who thinks he can, In spite of the throngs who doubt him.

Each must stand in the court of life And pa.s.s through the hours of trial; He shall tested be by the rules of strife, And tried for his self-denial.

Time shall bruise his soul with the loss of friends, And frighten him with disaster, But he shall find when the anguish ends That of all things faith is master.

So keep your faith in the G.o.d above, And faith in the righteous truth, It shall bring you back to the absent love, And the joys of a vanished youth.

You shall smile once more when your tears are dried, Meet trouble and swiftly rout it, For faith is the strength of the soul inside, And lost is the man without it.

The Burden Bearer

Oh, my shoulders grow aweary of the burdens I am bearin', An' I grumble when I'm footsore at the rough road I am farin', But I strap my knapsack tighter till I feel the leather bind me, An' I'm glad to bear the burdens for the ones who come behind me.

It's for them that I am ploddin', for the children comin' after; I would strew their path with roses and would fill their days with laughter.

Oh, there's selfishness within me, there are times it gets to talkin', Times I hear it whisper to me, "It's a dusty road you're walkin'; Why not rest your feet a little; why not pause an' take your leisure?

Don't you hunger in your strivin' for the merry whirl of pleasure?"

Then I turn an' see them smilin' an' I grip my burdens tighter, For the joy that I am seekin' is to see their eyes grow brighter.

Oh, I've sipped the cup of sorrow an' I've felt the gad of trouble, An' I know the hurt of trudgin' through a field o'errun with stubble; But a rougher road to travel had my father good before me, An' I'm owin' all my gladness to the tasks he shouldered for me.

Oh, I didn't understand it, when a lad I played about him, But he labored for my safety in the days I'd be without him.

Oh, my kindly father never gave himself a year of leisure-- Never lived one selfish moment, never turned aside for pleasure-- Though he must have grown aweary of the burdens he was bearin'; He was tryin' hard to better every road I'd soon be farin'.

Now I turn an' see them smilin' an' I hear their merry laughter, An' I'm glad to bear the burdens for the ones that follow after.