The years of trial on Hawaii's land Were more than wiser heads would stand. Poi, paakia, poverty and shame Were all endured for the blessed Savior's name. The crime and faith, and ulcerated sores Opened to view, bleeding at every pore, Tried the metal, proved one's pride. Then was the day of choosing sides. Then was the hour to begin, and he Pulled off his coat and waded in. We need not urge him to improve, He seeks, as Joseph did, light from above, And God has given strength to Hyrum's son, Speeding him on the race so well begun; For unto him a charge is truly given To lead erring men from sin to heaven; To realms of glory, where truth divine Enlightens life with joy sublime. But I will leave to pens abler than mine To paint the beauties of that heavenly clime. I choose to feast on more substantial food. One to be great, must first be truly good. The precious clouds that bless our vales with rain Descend from lofty peaks and kiss the plains, So God, Himself, in plainness said to man, "Blessed are the meek," "I am the great I Am," And while His voice echoed from Sinai's peak, He talked with Moses, the meekest of the meek. Then look to Christ, and note the keywords given To lead men back to God and Heaven. Brother nobly and well thou hast begun, Now hold the fort until the victory's won, And when the smoke and din of war is past Your works and name on history's page shall last. And I feel in all my being that Joseph F. Smith held the fort and won the victory, giving him a seat with his Prophet Uncle and his martyred father in the mansions of our Heavenly Father. TWENTY-FOURTH OF JULY TOAST--"UTAH." O Utah, thou Switzerland of America, The home of many a Tell, For freedom's fires are burning bright, In all thy mountain dells. Thou art the cradle, and the home Of freedom's struggling child; For here beneath thy mountain domes, Within thy canyons wild, A band of fleeing exiles Found first a "resting place" From persecution's bitter blast, That smote them in the face. And Utah's pioneers who fled From Missouri's wrath and flames-- Whose unshod feet so often bled, While creeping o'er the plains-- Are grateful for the noble men Who stand as "beacon lights," Who "sink or swim, in life or death;" Stand up for equal rights. We love our country--north and south, Her plains, and mountain sod, We stand for "Freedom of the soul," "Our country and our God." KILAUEA ON THE WAR PATH. In 1856 and '57, I was laboring as a missionary on the island of Hawaii, and during that time the volcano of Kilauea gave us an exhibition on a stupendous scale. In company with Elder Henry P. Richards, I went through the forest several miles and met the stream of lava that was running down the mountain, threatening to destroy the town of Hilo. Here is an extract from my journal: