It is forever so—when there is need
Of some clear, clarion voice to forward lead
God raiseth up a man from his own seed;
Not from the soft, luxurious lap of earth,
But from a nobler soil, so that from birth
The frame is moulded with a chosen food
That has one only end—to make it good,
Full generous, far-sighted, firm and keen,
With strength to rise above the gross and mean—
The sordid selfishness that like a curse
Drives from the heart the virtues it would nurse—
That love of country, freedom's holy cause,
Justice, mercy, that eye for equal laws,
Faith in the future and our fellow-men,
Faith in the sword when shielded by the pen—
And so it was with us—when there was need
Of one commanding voice to forward lead,
God rais'd up here a man from His own seed;
And so came forth the gentle Washington,
Fair child of Fate, the nation's noblest son,
Whom Virtue fostered and whom Virtue won.

Some few there be whose feet knew rougher ground,
But few indeed a loftier summit found—
Nurtured in tender soil, he held a path
Where others faltered, heeding not the wrath
Of any king or potentate or power—
His was the hero-heart—he saw the hour,—
He knew the mighty odds, yet would not cower.
And when the tyrant's heel touch'd on our shore
And thrust itself unbidden to our door,—
But Washington alone with eagle-eye
Withstood the foe and taught him how to die;
Repulsed, disheartened, driven to despair,
He lifted up his voice in humble prayer,
For in that awful night at Valley Forge
He drank the bitter cup—he knew Fate's scourge,
He felt her lash,—this tender-hearted George.

Father of Liberty—thou Child of Light,
Columbia's first-born, who in thy might
Restored to Freedom her enfeebled sight—
If spirits of the nobler dead can hear,
This day—thy natal day—press close thine ear
And learn what we thy nation need to fear,
And if the immortal dead can truly speak,
Show us, O Child of Light, where we are weak,—
Grant us thy counsel (for thou art with God)
And bear us wisdom where thy footsteps trod,
And if thou seest aught of envious strife
From virtue sapping all her sweeter life,
Teach us, O Child of Light, a purer love,
For thou hast learn'd of God—thou art above
Thy weak and erring mortals here below
Who see the light, yet forward fear to go—
Guide us, if spirits of the dead may guide,
So that in peace we ever may abide,
So that from land to sea, from shore to shore,
We shall be brothers now and evermore.

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