Such was the wondrous Book of Mormon.
From that prophet Smith profited, and became a prophet also.
Mahomet, Brahma, Buddha, Confucius—Smith surpassed them all.
Getting behind a screen, he dictated to Oliver Cowdrey
(Smith was not a literatus, and couldn’t have jerk’d it grammatically).
In eighteen-thirty, hurrah! the glorious Book was publish’d.
But carping critics of orthodoxy murmured “fraud!” and “humbug!”
“Where’s your authority? Show us the original!”
Smith disdained to do so; he and his friends had seen it,
But nobody else has seen it, nor will they see it forever.