University of Virginia Library

IV. Within the Synagogue. Sermonizeth the Prophet.

THE PROPHET.
Sisters and brothers who love the right,
Saints whose hearts are divinely beating,
Children rejoicing in the light,
I reckon this is a pleasant meeting.
Where's the face with a look of grief?—
Jehovah's with us and leads the battle;
We've had a harvest beyond belief,
And the signs of fever have left the cattle;
All still blesses the holy life
Here in the land of milk and honey.

FEMININE WHISPERS.
Brother Shuttleworth's seventeenth wife, . .
Her with the heer brushed up so funny!

THE PROPHET.
Out of Egypt hither we flew,
Through the desert and rocky places;
The people murmur'd, and all look'd blue,
The bones of the martyr'd filled our traces.
Mountain and valley we crawl'd along,
And every morning our hearts beat quicker.
Our flesh was weak, but our souls were strong,
And we'd managed to carry some kegs of liquor.
At last we halted on yonder height,
Just as the sun in the west was blinking.

FEMININE WHISPERS.
Isn't Jedge Hawkins's last a fright? . . .
I'm suttin that Brother Abe's been drinking!

THE PROPHET.
That night, my lambs, in a wondrous dream,
I saw the gushing of many fountains;
Soon as the morning began to beam,
Down we went from yonder mountains,
Found the water just where I thought,
Fresh and good, though a trifle gritty,
Pitch'd our tents in the plain, and wrought
The site and plan of the Holy City.
‘Pioneers of the blest,’ I cried,
‘Dig, and the Lord will bless each spadeful.

FEMININE WHISPERS.
Brigham's sealed to another Bride . . .
How worn he's gittin'! he's aging dreadful.

THE PROPHET.
This is a tale so often told,
The theme of every eventful meeting;
Yes! you may smile and think it old;
But yet it's a tale that will bear repeating.
That's how the City of Light began,
That's how we founded the saintly nation,
All by the spade and the arm of man,
And the aid of a special dispensation.
‘Work’ was the word when we begun,
‘Work’ is the word now we have plenty.

FEMININE WHISPERS.
Heard about Sister Euphemia's son? . . .
Sealing already, though only twenty!

THE PROPHET.
I say just now what I used to say,
Though it moves the heathens to mock and laughter,
From work to prayer is the proper way—
Labour first, and Religion after.
Let a big man, strong in body and limb,
Come here inquiring about his Maker,
This is the question I put to him,
‘Can you grow a cabbage, or reap an acre?’
What's the soul but a flower sublime,
Grown in the earth and upspringing surely?

FEMININE WHISPERS.
O yes! she's hed a most dreadful time!
Twins, both thriving, though she's so poorly.

THE PROPHET.
Beauty, my friends, is the crown of life,
To the young and foolish seldom granted;
After a youth of honest strife
Comes the reward for which you've panted.
O blessed sight beyond compare,
When life with its halo of light is rounded,
To see a Saint with reverend hair
Sitting like Solomon love-surrounded!
One at his feet and one on his knee,
Others around him, blue-eyed and dreamy!

FEMININE WHISPERS.
All very well, but as for me,
My man had better!—I'd pison him, Pheemy!

THE PROPHET.
There in the gate of Paradise
The Saint is sitting serene and hoary,
Tendrils of arms, and blossoms of eyes,
Festoon him round in his place of glory;
Little cherubs float thick as bees
Round about him, and murmur ‘father!’
The sun shines bright and he sits at ease,
Fruit all round for his hand to gather.
Blessed is he and for ever gay,
Floating to Heaven and adding to it!

FEMININE WHISPERS.
Thought I should have gone mad that day
He brought a second; I made him rue it!

THE PROPHET.
Sisters and Brothers by love made wise,
Remember, when Satan attempts to quell you,
If this here Earth isn't Paradise
You'll never see it, and so I tell you.
Dig and drain, and harrow and sow,
God will bless you beyond all measure;
Labour, and meet with reward below,
For what is the end of all labour? Pleasure!
Labour's the vine, and pleasure's the grape,
The one delighting, the other bearing.

FEMININE WHISPERS.
Higginson's third is losing her shape.
She hes too many—it's dreadful wearing.

THE PROPHET.
But I hear some awakening spirit cry,
‘Labour is labour, and all men know it;
But what is pleasure?’ and I reply,
Grace abounding and Wives to show it!
Holy is he beyond compare
Who tills his acres and takes his blessing,
Who sees around him everywhere
Sisters soothing and babes caressing.
And his delight is Heaven's as well,
For swells he not the ranks of the chosen?

FEMININE WHISPERS.
Martha is growing a handsome gel. . . .
Three at a birth?—that makes the dozen.

THE PROPHET.
Learning's a shadow, and books a jest,
One Book's a Light, but the rest are human.
The kind of study that I think best
Is the use of a spade and the love of a woman.
Here and yonder, in heaven and earth,
By big Salt Lake and by Eden river,
The finest sight is a man of worth,
Never tired of increasing his quiver.
He sits in the light of perfect grace
With a dozen cradles going together!

FEMININE WHISPERS.
The babby's growing black in the face!
Carry him out—it's the heat of the weather!

THE PROPHET.
A faithful vine at the door of the Lord,
A shining flower in the garden of spirits,
A lute whose strings are of sweet accord,
Such is the person of saintly merits.
Sisters and brothers, behold and strive
Up to the level of his perfection;
Sow, and harrow, and dig, and thrive,
Increase according to God's direction.
This is the Happy Land, no doubt,
Where each may flourish in his vocation. . . .
Brother Bantam will now give out
The hymn of love and of jubilation.