We've never seen the Father here, but we have known the Son,
The finest type of manhood since the world was first begun.
And, summing up the works of God, I write with reverent pen,
The greatest is the Son He sent to cheer the lives of men.
Through Him we learned the ways of God and found the Father's love;
The Son it was who won us back to Him who reigns above.
The Lord did not come down himself to prove to men His worth,
He sought our worship through the Child He placed upon the earth.
How can I best express my life? Wherein does greatness lie?
How can I long remembrance win, since I am born to die?
Both fame and gold are selfish things; their charms may quickly flee,
But I'm the father of a boy who came to speak for me.
In him lies all I hope to be; his splendor shall be mine;
I shall have done man's greatest work if only he is fine.
If some day he shall help the world long after I am dead,
In all that men shall say of him my praises shall be said.
It matters not what I may win of fleeting gold or fame,
My hope of joy depends alone on what my boy shall claim.
My story must be told through him, for him I work and plan,
Man's greatest duty is to be the father of a man.
