They live who, when this far-flung agony of war is ended, when the last
hero has fallen and lies in his grave, when the final cannon has sounded
its knell, must be called upon to make the great peace. They live who
will weave a shroud of death for the exhausted world, or plant the tree
of life upon her bosom; and since we, inspired by the splendor of our
cause, are assured that the day-spring will be ours, we already feel and
know that we shall see that tree of life planted. But do we also feel
and know that we must help to plant it, that the labor and toil of each
of us is vital, that none is so weak but that there is a part of that
planting for which he was born, a part consecrated to his individual
effort, a part that will go undone if he does not do it?
Look to yourself, man, woman, child, that with heart and soul and
strength you perform your part in the great world work lying ahead;
remember that not princes and rulers, not regiments of your kinsmen, not
the armed might of nations can do your appointed task for you. Fail of
it, and by so much will the life tree lack in her planting; succeed, and
by so much will she be the more splendid and secure.
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