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Rh for a time a terrible answer to prayer, supplying an ideal cause, an object of devotion palpable and legitimate according to the code of his own day. It called all men equally to labor, live, or die to make this world a better place where babes unborn might yet have life and have it more abundantly. Some such spiritual renaissance certain of our soldier-poets have sung, especially in the early days of the World War. To men like Rupert Brooke the bugles of war

No static heaven, his whose body lies in "some corner of a foreign field," his heart,

Will some one write us, then, new hymns suited to the social order and the reverent dignity of our times? We who can no longer sing

have sung exultantly the more fitting words of our newest and greatest national song: