Said old George Jones: 'All in a hundred years.
'Tis little time enough, and well may make
This youthful country proud among its peers
Of progress wooed and won for progress sake.
A splendid city shining by the sea
And all that count of wealth and worth she owns
Speaks well enough for our first century,'
Said old George Jones.
''Tis with a country much as 'tis with men:
The fevered morn o' life goes all for gain -
For all the things gain signifies; an' then,
We pause to con life's lesson o'er again
And find, if be that wisdom comes with years,
That gettin', gainin', holdin', scarce atones
Nor pays for all man's toil an' sweat and tears,'
Said old George Jones.
'Not with the golden profit won thro' trade,
Not with the tawdry treasure that we wrest
From this scarred earth, nor things men's hands have made
Comes any answer to man's age-long quest.
Not at the gates of such material goals
Nor pedigreed cities builded high with stones
Lies ought to serve or satisfy men's souls,'
Said old George Jones.
Said old George Jones, 'This is an old man's pray'r:
That gainin' shall not ever wholly serve
This land o' mine when I drift otherwhere
To seek what share o' peace I may deserve;
But that the treasure of the one true worth
Shall gleam at last above my whitening bones
For wiser mortals of a wiser earth,'
Said old George Jones.