THE CHILDREN'S SONG Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee Our love and toil in the years to be; When we are grown and take our place, As men and women with our race. Father in Heaven who lovest all. Oh help Thy children when they call; Teach us to bear the yoke in youth, Teach us to rule ourselves alway, Teach us to look in all our ends, On Thee for judge, and not our friends; That we, with Thee, may walk uncowed Teach us the Strength that cannot seek, Teach us Delight in simple things, And Love to all men 'neath the sun! Land of our Birth, our faith, our pride, Head, heart, and hand through the years to be! IF If you can keep your head when all about you If you can think your aim, and not make thoughts If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And which is more you'll be a Man, my son! THE PRODIGAL SON (Western Version) Here come I to my own again, I never was very refined, you see, (And it weighs on my brother's mind, you see) But there's no reproach among swine, d'you see, For being a bit of a swine. So I'm off with wallet and staff to eat The bread that is three parts chaff to wheat, But glory be! - there's a laugh to it, My father glooms and advises me, |