"Yes, sir," answered that flute-voiced musician.
"Brother Dunbar, sing 'Zion.'"
And in the electrical silence which ensued, rang out the clarion tones of the "Mormon" battle-hymn, if such it could be called, since it embodies a spiritual triumph rather than a temporal subjugation. Brother Dunbar sang:
O! ye mountains high, where the clear blue sky
Arches over the vales of the free,
Where the clear breezes blow
And the pure streamlets flow,
How I've longed to thy bosom to flee.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free:
My own mountain home, now to thee I have come,
All my fond hopes are centered in thee.Though the great and the wise all thy beauties despise,
To the humble and pure thou art dear;
Though the haughty may smile,
And the wicked revile,
Yet we love thy glad tidings to hear.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free:
Though thou wert forced to fly to thy chambers on high,
Yet we'll share joy and sorrow with thee.In thy mountain retreat, God will strengthen thy feet;
On the necks of thy foes thou shalt tread;
And their silver and gold,
As the Prophets have told,
Shall be brought to adorn thy fair head.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free;
Soon thy towers will shine with a splendor divine,
And eternal thy glory shall be.Here our voices we'll raise, and we'll sing to thy praise,
Sacred home of the Prophets of God;
Thy deliverance is nigh,
Thy oppressors shall die,
And the Gentiles shall bow 'neath thy rod.
O Zion! dear Zion! home of the free:
In thy temples we'll bend, all thy rights we'll defend,
And our home shall be ever with thee.
It was impossible to calm the tumult any more for that day. Peace or war, the situation was very much in the hands of Brigham Young for the time.
As the three Eastern officials made their way slowly out of the door, with mingled chagrin and anger, Governor Cumming asked his companions:
"What would you do with such a people?"
"Damn them, I would fight them, if I had my way," answered Major McCulloch, unconvinced that the rumor was in any degree true.
"Fight them, would you?" answered the Governor sadly. "You might fight them, but you would not whip them. They would never know when they were whipped. Did you notice the fire and flash in those men's eyes today? No, sir; they would never know when they were whipped."
"I fear," said Governor Powell, reflectively, as they retraced their way sadly through the silent echoing streets to one of the few inhabited houses in the city, the hotel on Main Street, "I fear that the messenger was right. I had occasion to doubt the rashness of General Johnston's temper before we left the camp. Yet, I hope, I hope it is not true. I am loath to see the blood of good men shed for naught. But what a strangely dramatic people! They sing their defiance instead of announcing it."