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his will with the things of the universe, and enables man to move on to eternal salvation, to advance, and become a God; every law is of necessity a result of the operation of this Spirit. Here again, the "Mormon" prophet anticipated the world of science; and his conceptions are simpler and more direct than those invented by the truth-seekers, who depended upon themselves and their own powers.

Marvelous is this view of the founder of "Mormonism." Where did he learn in his short life, amidst sufferings and persecution such as few men have known, the greatest mysteries of the universe!




Out in the wild and rocky west

White-tipped with many a season's snows,
In rare and rural beauty dressed,
A stream of revelation flows.

Along its shady, winding banks,

The grass, the flowers, the woodlands grow,
And birds are sweet in tuneful thanks

For floods that never cease to flow.
The sunny earth's flower-garden where,
Beneath a cloudless sky and calm,
In honest praise the nations share

In many a sweet and holy psalm.
Full oft along its sacred brink,

Man, weary of his round of strife,
Seeks refuge, soul athirst, to drink
The waters of eternal life.

There when the sun of life declines
Towards its setting in the west,
The quiet star of hope still shines
To light the pilgrim to his rest.

To human kind a mystery!

A miracle upon the land!
A world of light and liberty!
A Nile in a Sahara's sand!



When President Roosevelt was on his western trip last summer the various cities he visited endeavored each to out-do the other in the nature of the welcome extended the distinguished guest. The women of Salt Lake City seemed to extend the most unique welcome; in that city they greeted the chief with thousands of babes in their arms. The pink-faced infants cooed a welcome at Mr. Roosevelt that filled his big heart with joy, and doubtless if he were to have been called upon to decide as to the city to which belonged the honor for the most appreciated entertainment, he would have decided in favor of Salt Lake.

Mr. Roosevelt's expressed regret, in an address delivered some time previous, that the old-fashioned, prolific American mother was becoming a thing of the past, is said to have suggested to the Salt Lake women this unusual welcome to the President.


Beneath our forty stars is she

purest woman, sweetest, best,
Who loves her spouse most ardently
And rocks the cradle oftenest;
Whose home is filled, whose heart is fed
With halo of a baby's head.


How pitiful that we must pay
And pension man for killing man,
While woman brings forth as she may,
Unpaid, unpensioned, as she can;
Gives life while man takes life away.

Gives life, gives love because she must.
How sad that we must pension, pay
Our tallest, bravest and our best
For killing brave men, east or west,
Until our race is in the dust,

As Greece is in the dust to-day;
A tomb of glory gone away.



say the mothers of strong men, Strong men and merry men and tall, Must build, must man the Spartan wall And keep it stoutly manned as when Greece won the world, nor wrecked at all. I say that she must man the wall. The wall of breasts, unshielded, bare, The wall to do, the wall to dare, The wall of men, or we must fall. I say that she, strong-limbed and fair, Deserves the pay, the pension, care.


Of all brave, heartfelt welcomes found Where flowers strew the fragrant ground, And rainbow banners fret the air

By city, hamlet, anywhere,

In Midland, Southland, Northland, West, I reckon Utah's first and best.


Not guns to greet the nation's chief,
Not trumpets blaring to the sun,

Not scars of glory and of grief,

Not thrice told tales of battles fought,

Not seas of flowers at his feet,

Not bold to glitter and to greet,

But Utah brought her babes, and brought

Not one babe fretted or afraid,

Not one that cried or wailed, not one.
Oh, what to this the booming gun?
Oh, what to this the loud parade?
Proud troop to troop poured manifold
In battle banners rampt with gold?

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Stands nearer Jesus, God, because
He loves His babes, obeys His laws-
Because his hands, his feet are clean;
Because he loves his hearth, his home,
And patient heaps the honeycomb.


Behold yon million desert miles
With scarce a plow, with scant a tree,
Save where this desert garden smiles
And robust babes leap merrily!
Behold our boundless seas, as chare
Of sails as yonder peaks are bare!


Then give us babes, babes of your own,
My meddling congressmen and men
Of cloth, with great brains in the chin;
Glad babes like these to prow the seas,
Strong babes like these to plow or spin,
And let this Bedouin alone.

Yea, give us babes at home, where now
Ye hide and house on every street
Such things as 'twere a shame to meet--
Glad babes to build and guide the prow,
Possess the isles, protect and bear
The star-built banner here or there!
Till then, hands off, my Pharisee,
And tend your own affairs, as they,
Of Utah tend their own to-day,
Lest from the mouths of babes ye be
Condemned and damned eternally!

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