Parley P. Pratt

Family Letters:—"My Fiftieth Year:"—Response by John Taylor.

NEW YORK, January 3d, 1857.

MY DEAR SON PARLEY: I am well; how are you? Please write and let me know. I long to see and hear from you.

I am getting along very comfortably. You will see by the enclosed how "Mormonism" keeps printers and editors busy. Give my best love to all the family, and especially to the children. Remember me to Olivia and Moroni. Do the best you can for me and my family, and try to get a good education; and try by prayer and doing right to cultivate an acquaintance with the Spirit of the Lord.

Read the enclosed letter to the family, and then have it carefully laid away as a part of my history.

Now, my son, farewell.
God bless you. Amen.
Your affectionate father,
P.P. PRATT.

NEW YORK, January 3d, 1857.
MY DEAR FAMILY:

A happy New Year to each of you. I am well. I spent Christmas in Philadelphia in a public party of the Saints—say 300 persons—assembled in a large hall neatly furnished and lighted. There were prayers, hymns, songs, recitations, comic, tragic, sublime and ridiculous. There was some music and dancing, merry making, eating and drinking till midnight. I did not dance, but I preached and bore testimony.

On the following Sunday I preached twice in the same hall, some 500 persons being present.

On Wednesday, December 31st, I arrived in this city and put up with President John Taylor. This closed the year 1856.

January 1st, 1857.—I attended a public party of the Saints here from 5 P.M. till midnight. It was like the one in Philadelphia—only there was no dancing. About 400 persons were present. During this party the news arrived of the landing of 220 Saints at Castle Garden direct from Europe, all in good health and spirits. These we visited next day in company with Presidents Taylor, G. A. Smith, and E. Snow, who are here now, and we shall hold a council. The Saints here are mostly emigrants from Europe and very poor. I am now well clothed, and God has opened my way to obtain sufficient funds for travelling expenses.

A letter from my Brother Nelson announces that all is well there, and they are overjoyed to hear that I am to visit them. He is trying to sell and go to the valley.

Brother Orson writes to me that all is well with him.

I have gone as far East as I intend to go. I hope soon to commence to return westward, visiting my brother Nelson as I go. The darkness which broods over this country can be felt—it is no place for me. I feel like going to the frontiers and fitting out as soon as grass grows.

The whole country is being overwhelmed with the most abominable lying, mockery, and hatred of the Saints, and with all manner of corruption. The legions of spirits are let loose and are working wonders. All things are ripening for a universal overthrow of all human power in this land.

I am almost an intruder wherever I go. I am a stranger and the world knows me not. There are a few of the Saints and others who will hear us, and not exactly demand a vote of thanks, although some of them would think it a great condescension for which we ought to thank them.

O, God, let me retire from such a generation into dens, caves, deserts, mountains—anywhere. But I will say no more about them. I feel for my family and pray for them continually. I hope they with me may have grace to endure to the end, and be saved in the kingdom of God.

My history is mostly completed. It will probably not be published in my day. Should anything happen to me, and the record be preserved, I wish it carefully compiled, copied, and taken care of.

My feelings, and the affections of my heart, I will not attempt to describe, but will express them in person when I return. Should I never return, be assured they are as warm and as tender as ever, and I think a little more so.

I hope you will not be cast down or borrow any trouble about me because I admit an if, as to my safe return. I have no doubt but that I shall return in safety and live to a good old age. But still I must acknowledge that I do anticipate with a great deal of pleasure the change of worlds. And, every day that I work on my history, I naturally think that the word finis will soon be added to the end. * * * *

Write when you can via California and Panama. Now God bless and preserve you all, even to little Mathoni. Amen.

Yours ever,
P. P. PRATT.

To my wife HANNAHETTE and others.

I am fifty years old! I have lived to see
Seven times seven and a Jubilee.
That period famed in the days of yore
As a grand release for the humble poor;
When the pledg'd estate was again restor'd,
And the bondman free'd from his tyrant lord.
When man his fellow was bound to forgive,
And begin anew to think and to live.
The nations have hail'd the year of my birth
As a Jubilee to the groaning earth.*
The triumphs of steam over land and sea
Have stamp'd the age of my Jubilee.
I have mark'd its progress at ev'ry stride,
From the day it was launch'd on the Hudson's tide
Till it conquer'd the ocean—grasp'd the land,
And join'd the world in a common band.
I have liv'd to behold the lightnings yield
To the mandate of man, and take the field,
As a servant-runner to bear the news
In an instant, where its lord might choose.

[Footnote] *The first steamboat was launched in 1807, on the Hudson river, by Robert Fulton.

And, scarce less strange, I have liv'd to behold
A Mormon Sage, with his wand of gold,
Overturn the world, and toss it up
As a teller of Fortunes would his cup.*
All these are facts; but of little worth,
Compared with a Prophet restored to earth.
I have seen his day and have heard his voice
Which enraged a world, while the meek rejoice.
I have read the fate of all earthly things:
The end of thrones, and the end of kings.
I have learned that truth alone shall stand,
And the Kingdom of God fill every land.
I have seen that Kingdom rolling along,
And taking its seat 'mid the mountains strong;
While the nations wondered, but could not tell
To what these wondrous things would swell.
I have wandered far, over land and sea,
To proclaim to the world its destiny—
To cry to the nations, repent and live,
And be ready the bridegroom to receive.

[Footnote] *An American soldier, of the Mormon Battalion, discovered the gold mines in California in 1847.

I have wandered far—I have wandered wide,
From Maine to the wild Missouri's tide;
And over the Atlantic's sea-girt isles
Full many a weary thousand miles.
I have trampled the desert's burning sands
And the snow-clad mountains of unknown lands.
'Mid the crystal waters of Deseret
I have pulled the oar and cast the net.
I have climbed the steeps 'mid the golden ore,
And roamed o'er the lone Pacific shore.
I have ploughed its bosom many a day
To visit the nations far away.
I have stood on Chili's distant shore,
Where the Polar Star is seen no more.
I have gazed on the Andes' heights of snow,
And roamed 'mid the flowery plains below.
I have toiled with the great in freedom's cause,
And assisted to give to a State its laws.
I have lain in a dungeon, bound in chains,
And been honored in Courts where Justice reigns.
In a thousand joys, and a thousand fears
I have struggled on through my fifty years.
And now, by the law of God, I am free;
I will seek to enjoy my Jubilee.
I will hie me home, to my mountain dell,
And will say to the "Christian" world—farewell!
I have served ye long—; 'twas a thankless task;
To retire in peace is all I ask.

Another fifty years will fully prove
Our message true, and all our motives love.
Then shall an humble world in reverence bow,
And hail the Prophets so rejected now.
Kings shall revere, and nations incense bring
To Zion's temple and to Zion's King.
I shall be there and celebrate the day
'Till twice ten fifties shall have passed away.

Thou art "fifty years old"—I am glad to see
That thou now canst hope for a Jubilee.
Go rest thee, my friend, for weary and long
Thou hast faithfully striven with a wayward throng;
With a world environed with error's chain
Thou hast wrestled and struggled, but not in vain.
On thy native shore and on foreign land
Thou hast battled for truth with a master hand,
And their cities, and towns, and hamlets have rung
With the sound of truth, with the voice of song,
And thousands in Zion do now rejoice,
Who've read thy works or heard thy voice,
And millions have seen thy bosom swell
With celestial truths thou lov'st so well.

Let drivelling sycophants bow the knee
To that chameleon shrine, popularity,
And with honey'd lips, bound with mammon's spell
And with wheedling, whining, canting tongue,
Daub o'er the deeds of a hellish throng.
'Twas thine the mask from their loathsome face
To rend, and exhibit their foul disgrace.

Thou hast grappled with sages in error rife,
Thou hast taught to the erring the way of life;
With flaming words and a burning pen
Thou hast bearded gaunt priestcraft in his den,
And said Baal's grizzly priests, avaunt!
I dare you in your dark, ghastly haunt.
And the canting, craving minions fled
At the truths thou penned and the words thou said.
With Elijah's faith and Elijah's rod,
Thou despised their power and defied their god,
And made the canting hirelings cower
Beneath the truth's keen withering power.
Thou show'd them their systems were doom'd to fall
That "Upharsin" was written on Babel's wall.
Thou hast spent 'midst their hordes a busy life;
Thou art leaving the den of their Babel strife.
Let others know now 'mid the nations roam,
And hie thee away to thy mountain home.

If, sleeping at night, the weary may
Forget the cares and toils of day;
And if by God to man is given
A day of rest in every seven;
If the pledged possession could be restored,
On the grand release by Jehovah's word;
If the debtor's bonds could then be broke,
And the slave be freed from a master's yoke,
And the very land a partaker be
Of the general jubilant Jubilee;
If all bonds were broken on that day,
And chains and manacles thrown away;
If throughout the land, by every tongue,
All joined in the joyous Jubilee song;
If debtors and slaves and earth were free,
Thou oughtest to have a Jubilee.

If a wish from a sincere friendly heart
Can to thee any comfort or joy impart;
If a fervent prayer to the God of grace
Could smooth thy path in thy onward race,
That prayer would be, may grace be given
To wend thy onward course to Heaven.
May'st thou abound in corn and wine,
And the blessings of plenty now be thine;
May thy family all be free from care,
And a husband's and father's plenty share;
May thy sun go down with glory rife,
And dying may'st thou burst into life;
And, when sleeping among the silent dead,
Have the blessings of millions on thy head;
And living with God, may'st thou be free,
And partake of an endless Jubilee.