I don’t know what they’ll put him at, or what
his post may be;
I cannot guess the task that waits for him across
the sea,
But I have known him through the years, and
when there’s work to do,
I know he’ll meet his duty well, I’ll swear that
he’ll be true.
I sometimes fear that he may die, but never that
he’ll shirk;
If death shall want him death must go and take
him at his work;
This splendid sacrifice he makes is filled with
terrors grim,
And I have many thoughts of fear, but not one
fear of him.
The foe may rob my life of joy, the foe may
take my all,
And desolate my days shall be if he shall have to
fall.
But this I know, whate’er may be the grief that
I must face,
Upon his record there will be no blemish of
disgrace.
His days have all been splendid days, there lies
no broken trust
Along the pathway of his youth to molder in
the dust;
Honor and truth have marked his ways, in him
I can be glad;
He is as fine and true a son as ever a father had.
