red, but still
Play the game!

For the Great Umpire above
Sees what we see nothing of,
By His wisdom and His love--
Play the game!
Keep your faith in Him although
His grim verdicts hurt you so,
At His Will we come and go--
Play the game!

WHEN THE
YOUNG ARE GROWN

Once the house was lovely, but it's lonely here to-day,
For time has come an' stained its walls an' called the young away;
An' all that's left for mother an' for me till life is through
Is to sit an' tell each other what the children used to do.

We couldn't keep 'em always an' we knew it from the start;
We knew when they were babies that some day we'd have to part.
But the years go by so swiftly, an' the littlest one has flown,
An' there's only me an' mother now left here to live alone.

Oh, there's just one consolation, as we're sittin' here at night,
They've grown to men an' women, an' we brought 'em up all right;
We've watched 'em as we've loved 'em an' they're splendid, every one,
An' we feel the Lord won't blame us for the way our work was done.

[Illustration: _"When The Young Are Grown"_

_From a painting by_ ROBERT E. JOHNSTON.]

They're clean, an' kind an' honest, an' the world respects 'em, too;
That's the dream of parents always, an' our dreams have all come true.
So although the house is lonely an' sometimes our eyes grow wet,
We are proud of them an' happy an' we've nothing to regret.

THE BOY'S IDEAL

I must be fit for a child to play with,
Fit for a youngster to walk away with;
Fit for his trust and fit to be
Ready to take him upon my knee;
Whether I win or I lose my fight,
I must be fit for my boy at night.

I must be fit for a child to come to,
Speech there is that I must be dumb to;
I must be fit for his eyes to see,
He must find nothing of shame in me;
Whatever I make of myself, I must
Square to my boy's unfaltering trust.

I must be fit for a child to follow,
Scorning the places where loose men wallow;
Knowing how much he shall learn from me,
I must be fair as I'd have him be;
I must come home to him, day by day,
Clean as the morning I went away.

I must be fit for a child's glad greeting,
His are eyes that there is no cheating;
He must behold me in every test,
Not at my worst, but my very best;
He must be proud when my life is done
To have men know that he is my son.

JUST HALF OF THAT, PLEASE

Grandmother says when I pass her the cake:
"Just half of that,