IT CAME UPON THE MIDNIGHT CLEAR-Continued
Look up! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing,
Oh rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing.

For lo, the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever circling year
Comes round the age of gold;
When peace shall over all the earth,
Its final splendors fling,

And the whole world send back the song,
Which now the angels sing.

Victor Record 35412

IN THE LAND OF LOVE WITH THE SONG BIRDS

Rega

Nightingale sings with joy,

In the sunny land of love,
Where all's in rhyme.

There I met sweet Jeanette

On a rocky mountain trail in summertime.

Birds above, sang of love,

And I told life's sweetest tale in three small words: And each breeze, stealing thru' the trees,

Seemed to bless our lives among the birds.

Chorus:

In the land of love with the song birds,

Where they sing their pretty tales of love, You could hear the birds sweetly calling, From the mountain roses to the dove.

It was near the end of September,

That she gave her heart to me in loving words California, how I long to be,

In the land of love with the song birds.

Whipporwills sing their lay,

To the gleaming stars above,

When all day is thru.

And their song all night long,

Is a message sweet of love my heart tells you.

Morning breaks, lark awakes,

And it bids the drowsy rose to lift her head,

While the wren in shady glen,

Tells the blinking owl the night has filed.

Used by permission, words and music copyright 1915 by FRANK K. ROOT & CO., CHICAGO, ILL.

Edison Blue Amberol Record 2763

I'M GOING TO RAISE MY BOY TO BE A SOLDIER A father and a mother fondly watching

The playful antics of their only son,

A manly lad of seven, proudly marching

Around the hall with soldier suit and gun.

"I hate to think some day the call of battle

Will take our darling boy," the father sighed;

The mother drew him near, her eyes grew dim with tears, Yet bravely to his father she replied:—

Chorus:

I'm going to raise my boy to be a soldier,

To serve his country when and where he can;

I'll teach him to be true to the old red, white and blue,

I want him to be every inch a man.

If war should come my heart would break with sorrow,
And yet I'd proudly bid him march away;

I'm going to raise my boy to be a soldier,
And a credit to the U. S. A.

With measured step and brown eyes brightly flashing
The youthful hero once more faced the foe;
In silent pride the parents watched their loved one,
Within their tear-dimmed eyes then love aglow.
"God grant that war may never take him from us,"
The father spoke again, and bowed his head.

"My heart repeats that prayer," the mother whispered there, But with a steady voice again she said:

Pathe Record 10072

Used by permission. Words and music copyright 1916 by Frank K. Root & Co., Chicago, Ill.

I'M GOIN' BACK TO LOUISIANA

I long to be a roamin' down in Louisiana

With my lovin' gal, only pal.

Floatin' on the river while the moon is shinin'

With my lovin' gal, only pal.

The whippoorwills am callin' from the distant shore,

I hear the banjos ring, darkies sing,

In Louisiana, dear Louisiana,

There is where my heart will ever cling.

Chorus:

I'm goin' back to Louisiana, where the bright moon shines; I'm goin' back to Louisiana and to that old gal of mine. When I get back we ain't agoin' to tarry,

We're agoin' to find a preacher man and marry, In the beautiful garden of Louisiana, where a bright moon shines.

I'M GOIN' BACK TO LOUISIANA-Continued

I don't know why I ever roamed

From Louisiana and my Dixie home, Dixie home;

There among the cotton fields

I lived the sweetest days I've ever known, ever known. Tonight I'm goin' to sail along

The Mississippi river on my way, on my way,

And I know tomorrow I'll be free from sorrow,

See my lovin' gal at break of day.

Victor Record 17683

Used by permission. Words and music copyright 1913 by Frank K. Root & Co., Chicago, Ill.

I'M LONGING FOR MY HOME SWEET HOME

Hauser

The busy day is over and I'm sitting all alone,

And dreaming of the bygone days and my dear country

home,

The rippling brook, the shady lane, where birds sing all the

day,

The meadow green and fields of new-mown hay.

I can see the old stone pathway leading to the cottage door, My heart can't bear this longing, I am going back once more. The fleeting years have passed away, it seems like but a day Since I left home and mother old and gray.

Chorus:

I'm longing for my Home Sweet Home and mother old and gray,

The scenes of happy childhood, where I used to romp and

play;

With patience for my safe return I know she'll wait and

pray,

I'm longing for my Home Sweet Home and mother old and

gray.

In memory I can picture all the scenes of long ago,

The old armchair, the cozy hearth, the firelight's ruddy glow;
There mother used to linger after daily toil and care,
To rest and then to read her evening prayer.

Now she's growing old and feeble, eyes are dim and footsteps

slow,

Her kind and loving nature still remains unchanged, I know, She's waiting with a welcome and a kiss from day to day; I'm longing for my Home Sweet Home and mother old and

gray.

Used by permission Volkwein Bros., 516 Smithfield St.,

Pittsburgh, Pa., Owners

Edison Diamond Disc Record 80196

I'M LONGING FOR OLD VIRGINIA AND YOU
Lyons

'Mid the green fields of Virginia, dear, I met you,
Where the clover red and white around us grew;
When I held you in my arms and gently pressed you,
The robins sang the sweetest song they knew.
Tho' tonight I'm far away from you and old Virginia,
I love you as I did that day in June,

And my heart's filled with yearning for you only,

For the mountains where the sweetest flowers bloom.

Chorus:

I'm longing for old Virginia,
For old Virginia and you,

And I'm hoping the "Soul within ya”

Is longing for me, too.

To Virginia, just like the ivy,

My heart clings ever true,

And I reckon in the spring
I'll bring a little ring

To Virginia and you.

I've been lonesome for you, dear, where I've wandered,
Mighty lonesome for the joys we used to know;
Thro' the whole long day and always in my dreaming,
It seems somehow I've missed you, missed you so.
Down the path of love I yearn to roam once more, dear,
Just as I did in days of old with you,

And when the spring time comes again to old Virginia,
Then we'll build a little cottage just for two.
Used by permission. Words and music copyright 1915 by
Frank K. Root & Co., Chicago, Ill.

IMMORTALITY "Prince of Peace" W. J. Bryan

Pathe Record 10031

Christ gave us proof for Immortality and yet it would hardly seem necessary that one should rise from the dead to convince us that the grave is not the end. To every created being, God has given a tongue that proclaims a resurrection.

If the Father designs to touch with divine power a cold and pulseless heart of the buried acorn and to make it burst forth from its prison walls, will He leave neglected in the earth the soul of man made in the image of His Creator? If He stoops to give the rosebud, whose withered blossoms float upon the autumn breeze, the sweet assurance of an

IMMORTALITY—Continued

other Springtime, will He refuse the words of hope to the sons of men when the frosts of winter come? If matter, mute and inanimate, though changed by the forces of nature into a miltitude of forms, can never die, will the spirit of man suffer annihilation when it has paid a brief visit like a royal guest to this tenement of clay? No, I am as sure that there is another life as I am that I live today.

In Cairo I secured a few grains of wheat that had slumbered for more than three thousand years in an Egyptian tomb. As I looked at them this thought came into my mind; if one of those grains had been planted on the banks of the Nile, the year after it grew, and all its lineal descendants planted and replanted from that time until now, its progeny would today be sufficiently numerous to feed the teeming millions of the world. There is in the grain of wheat an invisible something which has power to discard the body that we see, and from earth and air fashion a new body so much like the old one that we cannot tell the one from the other. If this invisible germ of life in the grain of wheat can thus pass unimpaired through three thousand resurrections, I shall not doubt that my soul has power to clothe itself with a body suited to its new existence when this earthly frame has crumbled into dust.

Victor Record 16168

I'M WEARIN' AWA'
Nairn

I'm wearin' awa', Jean,

Like snaw in thaw; Jean,

I'm wearin' awa

To the Land o' the Leal.

There's neither cauld nor care, Jean,
The day's aye fair,

To the Land o' the Leal.

Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,
My soul langs to be free, Jean,
And angels wait on me, Jean,
To the Land o' the Leal.
Then heed not my pain, Jean,
This world's care is vain, Jean,
We'll meet and be fain,

To the Land o' the Leal.

Victor Record 17203