England, father and mother in one,
Heed the voice of your son.
Proffer him place in your councils of state:
Let him sit near, and attend you.
Ponder his words in the hour of debate,
Strong is his arm to defend you.
Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone,
Give him his own.
THE CALL
In the banquet hall of Progress
God has bidden to a feast
All the women in the East.
Some have said 'We are not ready, -
We must wait another day.'
Some, with voices clear and steady,
'Lord, we hear, and we obey.'
Others, timid and uncertain,
Step forth trembling in the light,
Many hide behind the curtain
With their faces hid from sight.
In the banquet hall of Progress
All must gather soon or late,
And the patient Host will wait.
If to-day, or if to-morrow,
If in gladness, or in woe,
If with pleasure, or with sorrow,
All must answer, all must go.
They must go with unveiled faces,
Clothed in virtue and in pride.
For the Host has set their places,
And He will not he denied.
CORONATION POEM AND PRAYER
The world has crowned a thousand kings:
But destiny has kept
Her weightiest hour of kingly power
To offer England's son.
The rising bell of Progress rings;
And Truths which long have slept,
Like prophets strange, predicting change,
Before Time's chariot run.
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