“On a stern and rock-bound coast,
The breaking waves dashed high
And the woods, against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches toss’d;
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o’er,
When a band of exiles moor’d their bark
On the wild New England shore…
Aye, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod!
They have left unstain’d what there they found
Freedom to worship God.”
-Excerpt courtesy of Newspapers.com, Deseret News, November 25, 1964
