The
world grows better year by year
Because
some nurse in her little sphere
Puts
on her apron, grins and sings,
And
keeps on doing the same old things.
Taking the temperatures, giving the pills,
To
remedy mankind’s numberless ills.
Feeding
the baby, answering bells,
Being
polite with a heart that rebels.
Longing
for home and all the while
Wearing
the same old professional smile,
Blessing
the new born baby’s first breath.
Closing
the eyes that are stilled in death.
Taking
the blame for the doctor’s mistakes.
Oh!
dear, what a lot of patience it takes.
Going
off duty at seven o’clock,
Tired,
discouraged, just ready to drop,
But
called back on special at seven-fifteen,
With
woe in her heart that must not be seen,
Morning
and evening, noon and night,
Just
doing it over, hoping it’s right.
When
we lay down our caps and cross the bar,
Lord!
wilt thou give us each one little star
To
wear in our crown with the uniform new
In
that city above where the Head Nurse is You.
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