Dear Pioneers, brave Pioneers! We welcome you with hearty cheers! I search in vain, in every land, To find the equals of that band Of noble men and women true Who left their homes, their lov'd Nauvoo. Facing hunger and wintry blasts To 'scape a foe, whose blood-stained lash Had scarred the back of sire and son, And burned the homes of helpless ones! A lawless mob, whose thirst for blood Flowed like a stream, a filthy flood-- Submerging Nauvoo's well tilled grounds, And spreading sorrow all around, Destroying property and life And ushering in the bitter strife That ended the noble Prophets' lives. And forced the bleeding Saints to flee To Utah's vales, harbor of law and liberty! Marked ye, the path the fathers trod? How close they crept to Israel's God? Like Moses at the burning bush, Took off their shoes midst thorns and brush, And tramped across the cactus plains, That we our freedom might obtain? O Liberty, blessed, priceless gift! For which our fathers bled and died! Casting all thoughts of self aside! Giving their lives, if need must be, That we, their children, might be free. O precious seed, and wisely sown! See how the fruit of it has grown: An Empire State of spotless fame, No traitor's act has our flag stained, But loyal to the heart and core Our sons are mustering by the score, And rushing to the battle's van, To "win or die" to the last man, Our hearts are set, we lift on high Our nation's glorious battle cry, And shout aloud, with trumpet breath, "Give us liberty, or give us death!" A PEACEFUL HOME. From F. M. Young's Journal. Better than gold is a peaceful home-- Where all the fireside chanties come, The shrine of love, and the heaven of life, Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife. However humble the home may be Or tried by sorrow by Heaven's decree, The blessings that never were bought or sold. And center there, are better than gold. --Copied Oct. 18, 1919 Chapter 36. From the Cradle to the Grave. A little boy at his mother's knee, Laughing and babbling in childish glee; A willow horse in his chubby hand; Acting the role of a grown-up man. Shaking his head in an angry mood, As if deep wrongs he had endured. Tossing a lock from his baby brow-- Catching a flash of repentance now, Then cuddling close to his mother's side, As if to heal his wounded pride-- And many a wound, by a mother's kiss Is changed from pain to a cup of bliss.