One hundred and fifty-five years ago, Orson Hyde spoke about Moroni and the destiny of America:
We are met, fellow-citizens, to celebrate one of the most important events that ever embellished the pages of political history–an event of which every American heart is proud to boast, in whatever land or country he perchance may roam–I mean the bold, manly, and daring act of our fathers in the Declaration of the Independence and Sovereignty of these United States,–an act worthy to be engraven in letters of living light upon the tablets of our memory, and to be transmitted to our children, with the sacred charge that they teach it to their children, and to their children’s children, till the “stripes and stars” float over every land, and are mirrored on the crest of every passing billow. They had not only the moral courage to sign the Declaration of our nation’s Independence, but hearts of iron and nerves of steel to defend it by force of arms against the fearful odds arrayed against them–the well-disciplined armies and mercenary allies of the foolish and tyrannical George the III., King of Great Britain.
The progressive spirit of the times, on the one hand, and the chains of cruelty and oppression, on the other, inspired the apostles of American freedom to raise the standard of liberty, and unfurl its banner to the world as a warning to oppressors, and as the star of hope to the oppressed. The very name of American causes a thrill of patriotic devotion to her best interests to quiver in the heart of every citizen of Utah, with a zeal and a pride for the welfare of our country that does honour to the memory of those departed heroes whose ashes are mingled in our soil, and made rich and dear to us by their own blood.
Remember Lexington, and Bunker Hill, and lastly Yorktown, with all the intermediate scenes as narrated in the history of the American Revolution! Remember the immortal Washington, chosen to lead our infant armies through the perils and hardships of an unequal contest, to the climax of victory and the pinnacle of fame! His name, embalmed in the never-dying sympathies of his grateful countrymen, will be heralded in the melody of song “while the earth bears a plant or the ocean rolls a wave.” While Columbia’s sons and daughters regret and mourn his exit hence in accents like the following—
“Cold is the heart where valour reigned,
Mute is the tongue that joy inspired,
Still is the arm that conquest gained,
And dim the eye that glory fired,”
they will comfort themselves and quiet the pangs of their bereaved hearts by chanting like this—
“Too mean for him in world like this;
He’s landed on the happy shore,
Where all the brave partake of bliss,
And heroes meet to part no more.”
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