 | Petition to the Deil |  |
50
THE OLD OFFICER TO HIS SON.
A Word at Parting.
August 23, 1915.
Hold on! faint never! let no doubt or fear
Of hope forlorn or danger near
Or thine own littleness unnerve thee now!
Maintain the value of thy vow:
What more has thy commander sworn than thou?
Of hope forlorn or danger near
Or thine own littleness unnerve thee now!
Maintain the value of thy vow:
What more has thy commander sworn than thou?
Thou marchest in the noblest cause that can
Inspire thy soul: thou art a man—
A living link, a portion of the chain
Of the world's hope, no drop of rain,
But part of many in the almighty main!
Inspire thy soul: thou art a man—
A living link, a portion of the chain
Of the world's hope, no drop of rain,
But part of many in the almighty main!
Thy singleness grown many, merged like these,
Swing forward with the force of seas!
Oh, in a nobler service yet, thou art
A drop of Britain's blood, a part
Of the great stream of life that warms her heart!
Swing forward with the force of seas!
Oh, in a nobler service yet, thou art
A drop of Britain's blood, a part
Of the great stream of life that warms her heart!
51
Rush to her arm! an arm now poised to smite
The snake, disclosed at last to sight,
That schemed through Christendom its slimy course,
And coils and stings without remorse:
Nerve now that arm to smite—thy Faith is Force!
The snake, disclosed at last to sight,
That schemed through Christendom its slimy course,
And coils and stings without remorse:
Nerve now that arm to smite—thy Faith is Force!
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