The Age of a Heart (1925) SO LONG as stars are bright and fair And skies are blue and clear; So long as joy is in the air And Dreamland hovers near; So long as roses blossom gay And song is on the tongue-- Tho brow be lined and hair be gray That long the heart is young. But when the sky grows dull and sere And roses fade and die; When song no longer holds the ear Nor Dreamland hovers nigh; When passing days no wonder bring, No great adventure hold-- In spite of time or anything [Transcriber’s note: Last line is missing from source.] The Children v1925 The dear little children that climb on the knee, The promise and hope of the morrows to be --Their song is unfailing; their spirits are bright; Their hearts are courageous from morning till night, How helpless they are! On our mercy they wait. The hands of their elders must fashion their fate. They are frail little barks to be launched on the sea --These dear little children that climb on the knee. Oh guide them with hands that are tender and true. The voyage is long and the lighthouses few. What struggles await them! What conflicts and fears! What dream castles shattered! What heartaches and tears! Their skies will have clouds, and the clouds will bring rain. Then all will give way to the sunshine again. Bound upon their souls are the ages to be --These dear little children that climb on the knee. Credo (1925) Lord, I believe That thou hast made the earth, the sky, the sea, And all the members of immensity, The rose that blooms beside the traveled way; That thou didst weave The fabric of the dawn and close of day. Lord, I believe That thou hast fashioned me to be thine own, Hast made my human heart to be thy throne, Hast made this voice of mine that it should sing From morn till eve, These hands the precious gift of love to bring. Lord, I believe That yonder, past the valley’s shaded rim, The lifting crest that seems so cold and dim Is but the outlines of another shore That doth receive The loved and lost of earth forevermore. The Fabulous City (1925) There rises in the distance Across the Vale of Dreams A fair and lovely city, Built on get-rich-quick schemes. Its towers are bright and shining. Its streets are paved with gold, Paid for by mine promotions And stock sales bad and bold. Wondrous that shining city Before our vision stands, But when we come to touch it It crumbles ’neath our hands. Ethereal its fabric, Intangible its soil. ’Twas builded with the fortunes We never made in oil. Home v1925 Standing beside a quiet path they found it. A humble little house it was, and low. With patient hands they planted flowers around it, And flung its windows to the sun’s warm glow. They laid an open book upon the table, And hung a simple picture on the wall. They trained a vining rose around the gable. They built a throne and crowned love Lord of all.