the world began.  It is whether this people shall have virtue to endure to the end,—­to endure, not starving, not cold, but the pangs of hope deferred, of disappointment and uncertainty, of commerce deranged and outward prosperity cheeked.  Will our vigilance to detect treachery and our perseverance to punish it hold out?  If we stand firm, we shall be saved, though so as by fire.  If we do not, we shall fall, and shall richly deserve to fall; and may God sweep us off from the face of the earth, and plant in our stead a nation with the hearts of men, and not of chickens!

O women, stand here in the breach,—­for here you may stand powerful, invincible, I had almost said omnipotent.  Rise now to the heights of a sublime courage,—­for the hour has need of you.  When the first ball smote the rocky sides of Sumter, the rebound thrilled from shore to shore, and waked the slumbering hero in every human soul.  Then every eye flamed, every lip was touched with a live coal from the sacred altar, every form dilated to the stature of the Golden Age.  Then we felt in our veins the pulse of immortal youth.  Then all the chivalry of the ancient days, all the heroism, all the self-sacrifice that shaped itself into noble living, came back to us, poured over us, swept away the dross of selfishness and deception and petty scheming, and Patriotism rose from the swelling wave stately as a goddess.  Patriotism, that had been to us but a dingy and meaningless antiquity, took on a new form, a new mien, a countenance divinely fair and forever young, and received once more the homage of our hearts.  Was that a childish outburst of excitement, or the glow of an aroused principle?  Was it a puerile anger, or a manly indignation?  Did we spring up startled pigmies, or girded giants?  If the former, let us veil our faces, and march swiftly (and silently) to merciful forgetfulness.  If the latter, shall we not lay aside every weight, and this besetting sin of despondency, and run with patience the race set before us?

A true philosophy and a true religion make the way possible to us.  The Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever He will; and He never yet willed that a nation strong in means and battling for the right should be given over to a nation weak and battling for the wrong.  Nations have their future—­reward and penalty—­in this world; and it is as certain as God lives that Providence and the heaviest battalions will prevail.  We have had reverses, but no misfortune hath happened unto us but such as is common unto nations.  Country has been sacrificed to partisanship.  Early love has fallen away, and lukewarmness has taken its place.  Unlimited enthusiasm has given place to limited stolidity.  Disloyalty, overawed at first into quietude, has lifted its head among us, and waxes wroth and ravening.  There are dissensions at home worse than the guns of our foes.  Some that did run well have faltered; some signal-lights