The Utah Pioneers

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The Utah Pioneers Sweep thou the harp, O Muse of Deseret, Strike loud and clear, nor ever once forget To hail with music and repeated cheers That noble band, the Utah Pioneers. Perceive them fleeing from their loved Nauvoo, Turn, on the hills, their ruined homes to view; Face, with fast purpose, the wild wilderness, Their old and sick with tender care caress. But dwell not on their pains and wrongs too free; These came to give them strength and liberty They stretched their cities o'er the dreary plain, — Toiled, built, for work relieves the troubled brain. Nor yet forgot the simpler, rural sports: Song, dance, the looks that twine the youthful hearts; Here love and virtue found congenial room, The flowers of home, that made their deserts bloom. The good All Father, as they knelt to pray, Was ever worshiped on their pilgrim way. Death scored his triumphs 'mongst the young and old With graves unmarked upon the desert mould. Hail to these dead, among that noble band, Sing sweet their requiem in the promised land. And tune the harp to that selected band, With Brigham, leader, mouth, and guiding hand; A statesman stern, yet husband, father mild, Commander great, yet playful as a child. A oerfect reader of the human mind, Who gave to each as each deserved in kind; Exposed deep truths that built the sovereign state, Then taught men how to plant and irrigate. Told how to live, adjusted faults that rise, Then turned to wrest rare wisdom from the skies. Such was the leader of the pioneers, Whose name grows greater with advancing years. His men — selected for their special worth, To conquer trouble and subdue the earth, To found a home in the untrodden West, To gain their freedom, and their loved ones rest, Their mission finished,— did their work and well, How truly perfect, let our comfort tell.

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THE UTAH PIONEERS 785

Like some life-giving stream, by unseen hand, They passed the plains to touch the desert sand; To quench the drought of centuries; the gloom Of thirsty wastes, to give to life and bloom. The God of peace their plodding footsteps 'tend, As westward still their conquering course they bend; Behind lie plains, streams, rocks, bluffs, daily care, Before, the hope that every soul would share: The hope of rest, and dream of home, —the oil That soothes the sores of overburdened toil. Deep in the defiles of the rugged hills, They swing the ax, and drink from cooling rills. Sounds of new life which snow-capped peaks retell Burst on the stillness of the sleeping dell. "The van of civilization's westward sweep" Has waked the desert from its troubled sleep. The pent-up feelings of the Pioneers Find sight in vision, and a voice in cheers; From peak to peak their echoed voices ring, Till stream and lake their happy chorus sing. They see the dawning of an era new, Whose rising light shines on their startled view: The wild man, wolf, the coyote and the snake, Yield us the room our lasting homes to make. See hamlets, towns and greater cities rise, With schools and temples towering to the skies. These chambered vales abound with busy marts; Here music lives with all her kindred arts. Vales, lakes, and hills, their hidden treasures give; See legions thrive, where men said none could live. The vision closed, but many prospects seen Are realized through years that intervene. We view the labors of these many years With their results, their turmoils, strifes and tears, But over all, our heroes' virtues please Like sunset glories on our inland seas: True courage, honest work, and faith in God; Add then to these, the path of duty trod: Works which the children of the new-born state May cherish in their lives, and emulate. So shall our course still on and upward be, As rolling years repeat our Jubilee. Edward H. Anderson