What is it makes a nation truly great?
Her sons, her sons alone; not theirs, but they
Glory and gold are vile as wind and clay
Unless the hands that grasp them, consecrate.
And what is that in man by which a State
Is clad in splendour like the noontide day?
Virtue: Dominion ebbs, and Arts betray;
Virtue alone endures. But what is that
Which Virtue's self doth rest on; that which yields her
Light for her feet, and daily, heavenly bread;
Which from demoniac pride and madness shields her,
And storms that most assail the loftiest head?
The Christian's humble faith; that faith which cheers
The orphan's quivering heart and stays the widow's tears.