born—that boy who is now a great man with a home and babies of his own. How sweet and holy and God-like is mother's love!
In the great and devastating war no one can ever estimate the suffering of the mothers of all lands. With complete self-forgetfulness they have said farewell to their boys. The women of Sparta were not braver than the women of the warring countries of to-day. And now our American mothers must lay their sons on the altar of their country, and they will do so with a heroism unsurpassed by the mothers of any country or any generation. Others will suffer, but the suffering of our mothers will be as sweet and holy and God-like as their love.
If it pleases God, many of our noble young men will come unscathed through the dragon-guarded gates of war. Flushed with victory, decorated with badges of honor, grown strong with burden-bearing, these boys will come home amid the plaudits and tears of welcome hosts. Mother, may your boy be among those who will thus come home! But if not, you will remember that it will be his glory to die for his beloved country. You will rejoice that he went forward with undaunted mien and unflinching eye, and that, like Nathan Hale, he was sorry that he had but one life to lose for his country!
