"For the Frontier
Guardian.
Song to the Press.
-----------------
BY ROBERT CAMPBELL.
-----------------
Dedicated to Elder Orson
Hyde, Editor of the Frontier Guardian.
O come! descend, my muse!
from Heaven descend!
O come! ye kindred spirits!
your harps new strung, now bring!
Come, join ye angelic pow'rs
with me, and lend
Your hallow'd influence to a
mortal's pen;
Echo the strains from heaven
to earth again,
The praises of the press in
one grand chorus, sing.
If words are language, the
gift of God to man;
If truth and light from
heav'n e'er sprang;
If the Almighty his
creation's work begun,
Sun, moon, and stars, this
universe display'd;
And man, and every living
thing had made;
The praises of the Press, in
one grand chorus, sing.
Let nature with her still
small voice proclaim,
Her myriad atoms of combined
matter bring;
Her attributes, laws and
properties in one acclaim,
Through an endless, an
eternal round, she never stays
Her motions, signs and
change, in various ways:
The praises of the press, in
one grand chorus, sing.
Arts, Science, history,
truth's unbroken chain;
And all that ever was, is,
and yet to be; still rising
A living light, eternally
ascribe to him again;
As source of life, and
parent of their birth;
Let all the great in heav'n,
the good on earth,
The praises of the press, in
one grand chorus, sing.
Let too, proud
kingdoms—mighty in their strength uprise,
Whose prowess stretch and
spread out their broad wings;
Let ships wave o'er the
ocean's tide, with wealth's own prize,
Of nations' commerce; what
recorded deeds transpire;
Let wind, fire, steam; let
telegraphic fire,
The praises of the press, in
one grand chorus, sing.
Ye statesman too; holding
with veneration dear,
The rights, the liberties of
every living thing;
And loud proclaim without
reward or fear,
The righteous mandates of
your senatorial tongues,
Whose fame the plaudits of
ten thousand hearts belong;
The praises of the press, in
one grant chorus, sing.
Let those, who form[from]
the sacred altar, come;
The messengers of God to
man, who bring
Salvation - op'ning the
veil, and pointing to his home;
The Gospel preach, the world
to save, the truth defend;
The broken heart to
bind,—the sinner's friend;
The praises of the press, in
one grand chorus, sing.
Let those who've trod on
earth, whose hallow'd name,
On holy record stands, as
prophet, priest and king;
Ancient of days, down to the
apostle's time; who proclaim
God's purposes and designs,
his intelligence impart,
And write his laws on the
tablet of each heart;
The praises of the press, in
one grand chorus sing.
Bring Music, too! in harmony
let's join;
Bring ye the loud trumpets,
the instruments of string,
And join symphonious in the
song divine,
And swell triumphantly,
melodiously the lays
Of every heart, of every
tongue, continued praise;
The praises of the press, in
one grand chorus, sing. (Robert L. Campbell, “Song to the Press,” The
Frontier Guardian 2, no. 2 [February 20, 1850]: 1, emphasis in bold)
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