hope on:
Never give up! for the wisest is boldest,
Knowing that Providence mingles the cup,
And of all maxims the best as the oldest
Is the true watchword of Never give up!

"Never give up! though the grapeshot may rattle
Or the full thunderbolt over you burst,
Stand like a rock,--and the storm or the battle
Little shall harm you, though doing their worst:
Never give up!--if Adversity presses,
Providence wisely has mingled the cup,
And the best counsel in all your distresses
Is the stout watchword of Never give up!"

I can quite feel what a moral tonic and spiritual stimulant these
sentiments would be to many among the thousand patients under Dr.
Kirkland's care.

I recollect also now, that once when I read at Weston-super-Mare, with
Lord Cavan in the chair, a military man among the audience, on hearing
me recite "Never give up," came forward and shook hands, showing me out
of his pocket-book a soiled newspaper cutting of the poem without my
name, saying that it had cheered him all through the Crimea, and that he
had always wished to find out the author. Of course we coalesced right
heartily. Some other such anecdotes might be added, but this is enough.

* * * * *

Year by year, for more than a dozen, I have given a harvest hymn to the
jubilant agriculturists: they have usually attained the honour of a
musical setting, and been sung all over the land in many churches.
Perhaps the best of them is one for which Bishop Samuel Wilberforce
wrote to "thank me cordially for a real Christian hymn with the true
ring in it." There are, or were, many musical settings thereof, the best
being one of a German composer.

"O Nation, Christian Nation
Lift high the hymn of praise!
The God of our salvation
Is love in all His ways;
He blesseth us, and feedeth
Every creature of His hand,
To succour him that needeth
And to gladden all the land.

"Rejoice, ye happy people,
And peal the changing chime
From every belfried steeple
In symphony sublime:
Let cottage and let palace
Be thankful and rejoice,
And woods and hills and valleys
Re-echo the glad voice!

"From glen, and plain, and city
Let gracious incense rise;
The Lord of life and pity
Hath heard His creatures' cries:
And where in fierce oppression
Stalk'd fever, fear,