This is the horrific phenomenon that ripped my very soul to its core when,on a visit to Mumbai, India to engage in Three Week Fast for the"Relief of the Poor" of the world, a group of the distraught Mothers of twelve (12) little children who hand disappeared week or so earlier were devastated when their bodies were found with their chests and body cavities ripped open and their vital heart, kidney, liver and speens taken, refrigerated and sold for tens of thousands, some for millions to the very wealthy to be transplanted in the bodies of their "Terminally ill children."
It was then that I came face to face with the fact that, with these dastardly acts, the Infamous "Crime Syndicate" of the 1% Cabal" had sunk to lowest level THINKABLE!
Can you blame me for being so determined to bring Satan's Reign to a much deserved END on OUR WATCH?
I want you to lean heavily with me on the words of the poet, Robert Service (1874-1958) who wrote the poem,
~ author's name withheld
Carry On
By Robert Service
A poet born into a Scottish family while they were living in Preston, England.*
"It’s easy to fight when everything’s right,
And you’re mad with the thrill and the glory;
It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It’s a different song when everything’s wrong,
When you’re feeling infernally mortal;
When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:
Carry on! Carry on!
There isn’t much punch in your blow. You’re
glaring and staring and hitting out blind;
You’re muddy and bloody, but never you mind.
Carry on! Carry on!
You haven’t the ghost of a chance.
It’s looking like death, but while you’ve a breath,
Carry on, my son! Carry on!
And so in the strife of the battle of life
It’s easy to fight when you’re winning;
It’s easy to slave, and starve and be brave,
When the dawn of success is beginning.
But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer, there’s the man of God’s choosing;
The man who can fight to Heaven’s own height
Is the man who can fight when he’s losing.
Carry on! Carry on!
Things never were looming so black.
But show that you haven’t a cowardly streak,
And though you’re unlucky you never are weak.
Carry on! Carry on!
Brace up for another attack. It’s looking like hell,
but—you never can tell:
Carry on, old man! Carry on!
There are some who drift out in the deserts of
doubt, And some who in brutishness wallow;
There are others, I know, who in piety go
Because of a Heaven to follow.
But to labor with zest, and to give of your best,
For the sweetness and joy of the giving;
To help folks along with a hand and a song;
Why, there’s the real sunshine of living.
Carry on! Carry on!
Fight the good fight and true; Believe in your
mission, greet life with a cheer; There’s big work
to do, and that’s why you are here.
Carry on! Carry on!
Let the world be the better for you; And at last
when you die, let this be your cry: Carry on, my Soul! Carry on!”
*Robert W. Service has been honored with a school named for him in Anchorage, Alaska, in Dawson City in the Yukon and in Toronto, Ontario. He was also honored on a Canadian postage stamp in 1976.
Online text © 1998-2013 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From Rhymes of a Red Cross Man
Team: "God is not through with us yet."
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