--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Young, B. S. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 20 number: 8 published: 1917-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'B. S. Young, "Mr. President," *Improvement Era* 20, no. 8 (June 1917): 734.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2008unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2008unse start_page: 734 end_page: 734 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1917-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2008unse publication_year: 1917 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1917, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Mr. President President I ain't never seen ner heard ye, Mister Wilson, President, But I've read ye, an' I'm follerin', fer I like yer sentiment. An' I don't mean jes' one, but all, an' I back all ye've said, Fer ye write as good American as ever I have read. Yer language runs so deep an' clear, an' rings golden like an' true. It ain't a speakin' politics, it's jest a speakin' you. It breathes kindliness fer human kind, it's strong an' brave an' free; It^s humble, sweet an' noble, an' speaks pure Christianity. It's the language of the Bible, in its lofty statesmanship ; It's the language of heart-service, not the service of the lip. An' fer statin' what the Nation feels, ye ain't excelled by none; Why, ye rank with noble Lincoln, or inspired Washington. An| out here in these Western vales there's thousands lifts their eyes An sends wingin' through the silence a message to the skies, That God will keep the pilot safe, to guide our heav'n-built bark, lhat like he's steered it in the light, so help him in the dark. An when sweet morn, an' light an' peace, suffuse the earth again, Keep yet our pilot safe to serve, we pray Thee, Lord, Amen. Brigham S. Young.