So in the heart,When, fading slowly down the past,Fond memories depart,And each that leaves it seems the last;Long after all the rest are flown,Returns a solitary tone,—The after-echo of departed years,—And touches all the soul to tears.

A tear that trembles for a little whileUpon the trembling eyelid, till the worldWavers within its circle like a dream,Holds more of meaning in its narrow orbThan all the distant landscape that it blurs.

And so, by night, while we were all at rest,I think the coming sped the parting guest.

What we do belongs to what we are; and what we are is what becomes of us.

The legend of Felix is ended, the toiling of Felix is done;The Master has paid him his wages, the goal of his journey is won;He rests, but he never is idle; a thousand years pass like a day,In the glad surprise of Paradise where work is sweeter than play.

This is the gospel of labour, ring it, ye bells of the kirk!The Lord of Love came down from above, to live with the men who work.This is the rose that He planted, here in the thorn-curst soil:Heaven is blest with perfect rest, but the blessing of Earth is toil.

For men have dulled their eyes with sin,And dimmed the light of heaven with doubt,And built their temple-walls to shut thee in,And framed their iron creeds to shut thee out.

This is the soldier brave enough to tellThe glory-dazzled world that "war is hell":Lover of peace, he looks beyond the strife,And rides through hell to save his country's life.

Count not the cost of honour to the dead!The tribute that a mighty nation paysTo those who loved her well in former daysMeans more than gratitude for glories fled;For every noble man that she hath bred,Lives in the bronze and marble that we raise,Immortalised by art's immortal praise,To lead our sons as he our fathers led.

O brave flag, O bright flag, O flag to lead the free!The glory of thy silver stars,Engrailed in blue above the barsOf red for courage, white for truth,Has brought the world a second youthAnd drawn a hundred million hearts to follow after thee.