The Valley Fremont
by E.P. Pectol
Come with me and see a picture
Of a valley I will show,
Drawn by Nature. Grand Old Artist,
Many hundred years ago.
Here he paints the river Fremont
Sluggish, sullen, flowing down
Heedless of the cry for water
Of the dry and parching ground
Here he shows trials of the savage,
And of outlaws–evil men,
Who from justice sought the shelter
Of this most forbidding glen
Here they lived the lives of demons,
Here they died unknown to God:
Perhaps their bodies lie unburied
On the ground that we now trod.
Now he pictures men of valor
Searching out the place to dwell;
They see this valley and this river
And to one another tell!
“Here we’ll pitch our tents, O brother,
Here’s a home they seem to think’
And from this cruel selfish river
We will give the land a drink.”
Hark! The land breathes back and answer:
“If thou will nourish me with care,
I will give thee of my treasures,
From God’s blessings thou shalt share.”
Behold the change within this valley!
Harvests ripening in the glen:
Now instead of curses, echo
Peace on earth good will to men.
Here the picture now is finished;
Has it been a pleasant one?
Canst thou see there’s hidden beauty
E’en in work yet to be done?
Long live God’s people in this valley,
Long to them His blessing flow;
Love within our hearts to cherish
For God and man as on we go.
–E.P. Pectol, 1891, 15 yrs.