We’re marchin’ to the music that is ringin’ far and nigh; You can hear the hallelujahs as the regiments go by; We’ll live for this old country, or for freedom’s cause we’ll die-- We’re marchin’ with the country in the mornin’! DO YOUR ALL EDGAR A. GUEST From Mr. Guest’s book of war time rhymes, “Over Here.” Published and copyright, 1918, by The Reilly & Britton Company, Publishers, Chicago. Special permission to reproduce in this book. “Do your bit!” How cheap and trite Seems that phrase in such a fight! “Do your bit!” That cry recall, Change it now to “Do your all!” Do your all, and then do more; Do what you’re best fitted for; Do your utmost, do and give. You have but one life to live. Do your finest, do your best, Don’t let up and stop to rest, Don’t sit back and idly say, “I did something yesterday.” Come on! Here’s another hour. Give it all you have of power. Here’s another day that needs Everybody’s share of deeds. “Do your bit!” of course, but then Do it time and time again; Giving, doing, all should be Up to full capacity. Now’s no time to pick and choose. We’ve a war we must not lose. Be your duty great or small, Do it well and do it all. Do by careful, patient living, Do by cheerful, open giving; Do by serving day by day At whatever post you may; Do by sacrificing pleasure, Do by scorning hours of leisure. Now to God and country give Every minute that you live. FLAG OF THE FREE FRANCIS T. SMITH IN POPULAR EDUCATOR Float thou majestically, Proudly, triumphantly, Ever protectingly, Flag of the free. No foe our faith shall blight In thy unconquered might, Emblem of truth and right, We bow to thee. As in grim days of yore-- Now on a hostile shore, Fulfill thy pledge once more, Red, white and blue. Long as thy stately bars And heaven’s reflected stars Dishonor never mars, We will be true. Prove to the waiting world, When free men are assailed, Our standard is unfurled For justice still. Strengthen us lest we fall, Inspiring one and all, Urging thy righteous call, Under God’s will. THE SERVICE FLAG WILLIAM HERSCHELL IN THE INDIANAPOLIS NEWS Permission to reproduce in this book Dear little flag in the window there, Hung with a tear and a woman’s prayer; Child of Old Glory, born with a star-- Oh, what a wonderful flag you are! Blue is your star in its field of white, Dipped in the red that was born of fight; Born of the blood that our forbears shed To raise your mother, the Flag, o’erhead. And now you’ve come, in this frenzied day, To speak from a window--to speak and say “I am the voice of a soldier-son Gone to be gone till the victory’s won.