A DAILY MESSAGE

Hokitika Guardian, 11 May 1929, Page 1

A DAILY MESSAGE

YOUR FLAG 'l iratrc may not seem to lie much cm nexion between a jam tin containing hunch of withering, wecily (lowers rosl ing at the base of a soldiers’ memoriii in Ultimo yesterday and a thousan flags waving gaily over Sydney to-da, —but there is» That jam tin is just as eloquent ; symbol of the undying flame of patriot ism as the Union Jack that Imng lik< a sign in the sky. The hand—probably a mother’s—that placed that jam tin on the mem orial may be veined with age and knot tod with labour, but her heart is strong and unshakable in perennial faith. And because of what is in her heart her humble jam tin becomes the symbol of a casket enshrining the imperishable jewels of manhood, Love, Faith, Honour, Sacrifice, Heroism, Patriotism. And her' weedy flowers become a symbol of the stateliest rose in England's diadem—fairest flower ever plucked from the breast off Glory. A thousand Union Jacks keep watch over Sydney to-day—they are a thousand symbols of a million epic stories. Is there one who walks by them with careless tread, and sees in them nothing but ( flags? Nothing but flags—but simply flags, Tattered and torn and hanging in rags; Some, walk by them with careless tread. Nor think of the hosts of warrior dead [ That have marched beneath them in days gone by— With a burning cheek and a kindling eye, And have bathed their folds with their life’s young tide— And, dying, blessed them, and blessing, died. The Union Jack is the most sacred symbol in our national life, embodying as it does the ideal of freedom—of government resting upon the people’s will. It is the standard of the British Umpire, the forerunner amongst the nations of that splendid democracy of the future, which shall be brotherly, cooperative, and free. Any flag is more than a rag—hut your flag is a symbol of all that is imperishable in human progress: A moth-eaten rag—on a worm-eaten pole—it does not look likely to stir a man’s soul; ’Tis the deeds that were done ’neath the moth-eaten rag— When the pole was a staff and the rag was a flag. —M. PRESTON STANLEY