GOING TO FRANCE
I HOLD his hand and look into his eyes—
My son grown to a man;
The gulf of time back to his babyhood
My swift thoughts span.
My son grown to a man;
The gulf of time back to his babyhood
My swift thoughts span.
I reared him to his splendid youth,
Playing my game with Chance,
And now—dear Lord, hold close my faith!
He goes away to France.
Playing my game with Chance,
And now—dear Lord, hold close my faith!
He goes away to France.
I know that France is fair and wide,
A land of wonder dreams,
But just an altar white and cold
Unto my soul it seems—
A land of wonder dreams,
But just an altar white and cold
Unto my soul it seems—
An altar of high sacrifice
For hearts like mine,
And, as God's stars in far-off space,
Its tapers shine.
For hearts like mine,
And, as God's stars in far-off space,
Its tapers shine.
And on that altar there are laid—
Through tears that blind—
A million sacrificial hearts
Of mothers left behind.
Through tears that blind—
A million sacrificial hearts
Of mothers left behind.
And so it is I hold his hand
And lift up prayerful eyes
That God will save my boy from share
In that great sacrifice.
And lift up prayerful eyes
That God will save my boy from share
In that great sacrifice.