See It Through

There are many to cheer when the battle begins
There are many to shout for the right;
There are many to rail at the world and its sins
But few have the grit for the fight. 
There are thousands to start with a rush for the fray
When the fighting seems easy to do,
But when danger is present and rough is the way,
The few have to see the job through.

    It is easy to quit with a battle unwon,
      It is hard to press on to success;
    It is easy to stop with a purpose undone,
      It is hard to encounter distress. 
    And many will march when the roadway is clear
      And the glorious goal is in view,
    But the many, too often, when dangers appear,
      Aren’t willing to see the fight through.

    They weaken in spirit when trials grow great,
      They flinch at the clashing of steel;
    They talk of the strength of the foe at the gate
      And whine at the hurts that they feel. 
    They begin to regret having ventured for right,
      They sigh that they dared to be true,
    They haven’t the heart they once had for the fight,
      They don’t want to see the job through.

    We have set out to battle for justice and truth,
      We have fearful disasters to meet;
    We shall weep for the best of our manliest youth,
      We shall suffer the pangs of defeat. 
    But let us stand firm for the cause that we plead,
      Let the many be brave with the few;
    The cry of the quitter let none of us heed
      Till we’ve done what we started to do.

Hope

Mine is a song of hope
For the days that lie before;
For the grander things
The morrow brings
When the struggle days are o’er. 
Dark be the clouds to-day,
Bitter the winds that blow,
But falter nor fail,
Through the howling gale—­
Comes peace in the afterglow.

Mine is the song of hope,
A song for the mother here,
Who lulls to rest
The babe at breast,
And hopes for a brighter year. 
Hope is the song she sings,
Hope is the prayer she prays;
As she rocks her boy,
She dreams of the joy
He’ll bring in the future days.

Mine is the song of hope,
A song for the father, too,
Whose right arm swings,
While his anvil sings
A song of the journey through. 
Hope is the star that guides,
Hope is the father’s sun;
Far ahead he sees,
Through the waving trees,
Sweet peace when his work is done.

Mine is the song of hope,
Of hope that sustains us all;
Be we young or old,
Be we weak or bold,
Do we falter or even fall,
Brightly the star of hope
From the distance is shining still;
And with courage new
We rise to do,
For hope is the God of Will.

The Gold Givers

Oh, some shall stand in glory’s light when all the strife is done,
And many a mother there shall say, “For truth I gave my son!”
But I shall stand in silence then and hear the stories brave,
For I must answer at the last that gold is all I gave.