The portals of Heaven stand open these days -
So steady - so terribly steady -
The march of young feet - in the mud-laden boots -
And the beat of brave hearts.
Lord, make ready
Your worthless mansions on Liberty Hill,
"With good hunting and fishing, (for zest).
And please give Harry V. Painter, dear Lord,
One of your biggest and best.
"He that loseth his life... shall find it again" -
In that Land where the blessed are,
Since he hurried away, with no thought for himself,
We are shipping his Silver Star. - Florence B. Taylor
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