What This Country Needs Is A Man

Feel It In Thy Heart And Then Say Whether It Is Of God!

Oh, Give Us The Man Who Sings At His Work.

The Stifled Hum Of Midnight, When Traffic Has Lain Down To Rest, And The Chariot Wheels Of Vanity, Still Rolling Here And There Through Distant Streets, Are Bearing Her To Halls Roofed In And Lighted To The Due Pitch For Her; And Only Vice And Misery, To Prowl Or To Moan Like Night Birds, Are Abroad.

Hero-worship Exists, Has Existed, And Will Forever Exist, Universally, Among Mankind.

The Actual Well Seen Is Ideal.