Though his earthly part is sleeping, Lowly 'neath the prairie sod; Soon the grave will yield its keeping-- Yield to life the man of God. When the heavens and earth are shaken, When all things shall be restored-- When the trump of God shall waken Those that sleep in Christ the Lord. * * * * LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF GEN. DON CARLOS SMITH _By Miss E. R. Snow_. "Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain." The insatiate archer, Death, once more Has bathed his shaft in human gore; The pale-faced monarch's crimsoned bow. Once more has laid a good man low. If tears of love could ever save A noble victim from the grave; If strong affection e'er had power To rescue in the dying hour; If kindred sympathy could hold A jewel in its sacred fold; If friendship could produce a charm. The heartless tyrant to disarm; If wide-acknowledged worth could be A screen from mortal destiny; If pure integrity of heart Could baffle death's malignant dart; If usefulness and noble zeal, Devotedness to Zion's weal, A conduct graced with purposed aim, A reputation free from blame, Could save a mortal from the tomb, And stamp with an eternal bloom; He never could have bowed to death, Or yielded up his mortal breath. Ours is the sorrow, ours the loss, For, through the triumphs of the Cross, His noble part, by death set free, On wings of immortality, Tracing the steps the Savior trod, Has reached the Paradise of God. There he rejoins the ransomed choir, There, there he hails his noble sire, A patriarch of these latter-days, Whose goodness memory loves to trace With reverence, gratitude, and love; He left us for the courts above. There with the spirits of the just, Where Zion's welfare is discussed, Once more their efforts to combine In Zion's cause.--And shall we mourn For those who have been upwards borne! And shall the Legion's sorrow flow, As if a Chieftain were laid low, Who threw his frail escutcheon by, To join the Legion formed on high? Yes, mourn.--The loss is great to earth, A loss of high exalted worth. * * * * THE ASSASSINATION OF JOSEPH AND HYRUM SMITH, FIRST PRESIDENTS OF THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS, WHO WERE MASSACRED BY A MOB IN CARTHAGE, HANCOCK COUNTY, ILL., ON JUNE 27, 1844. By Miss E. R. Snow. Ye heavens attend! Let all the earth give ear! Let Gods and Seraphs, men and angels hear-- The worlds on high--the universe shall know What awful scenes are acted here below! Had Nature's self a heart, her heart would bleed, For never, since the Son of God was slain, Has blood so noble flowed from human vein, As that which now, on God, for vengeance calls From "Freedom's ground"--from Carthage prison walls!