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Show ANOTHER OF THE TRIBUNE'S PRIZE POEMS. 1 Our father's Ood, whoso eulldlnB hand l.oil on the sturdv pioneer. O'er traoklMs plain and mountnln lmd, To tlic filr vsles so love" so dfr Unlit Thou our iwth'vny by Thy will, AVo prv The still, We pray Thoo mill! That Vt.h'n nim stand pioudly l.rljht. May h with ji'urlv tons ho blost, V1iokp -sTlllInjc Jiesrts nnd nrmB of nlsht Will ltnll.l an omplro In tho west. Whor-1 love or rlsht each hoart will ' till. We pnv The htlll. wo pray Thoo still! Our mount iIim lllle 1 with wealth untold un-told The (locks und lwds of hill nnd plnln, liny thpy no brlnt oppression's cold, I Ni.r men but toil for others pnln; May ie llvu n-.iror to Thy will, .' i I t I 1 'I Wo prnv The- still, Wo prn Tlici still! To this crert nation amy our loic UnchnnRed bo ns our mountains Our llen as pure nnd spotless proic As Is the emblem of our State; With patriot Are, our bosoms fill. Wo pray Thco mill, Wo praj The still! ! l,od of the nations, still us lend, Till all discord nnd strlfo Is donn: Till Utah's sons In thought nnd deed, Kor Utah's Klory march ns one; HiiimonUiiis mako our hearts alwny, Tor this c prny, for this wo pray! |