And there’s another country, I’ve heard of long ago—
                                        
                                        Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;
                                        
                                        We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;
                                        
                                        Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering;
                                        
                                        And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,
                                        
                                        And her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace.