In love, in grief, in pride, we yield our sons.
In Thy strong hands, Father, we lay our sons,
No longer ours, but Thine!
God, through the night, the dark, tempestuous,
See, with clear eyes we wait the day to be.
We do not ask that they come back to us.
We know that, soon or late, victorious,
Even though they die, they will come back to us,
Because they died for Thee!
A MONUMENT FOR THE SOLDIERS
A monument for the Soldiers!
And what will ye build it of?
Can ye build it of marble, or brass, or bronze,
Outlasting the Soldiers' love?
Can ye glorify it with legends
As grand as their blood hath writ
From the inmost shrine of this land of thine
To the outermost verge of it?
And the answer came: We would build it
Out of our hopes made sure,
And out of our purest prayers and tears,
