On a prairie swell under heaven's dome|
On a homestead claim, they would build their home.
They plowed fireguards, and they planted trees;
In the middle of the claim, working on their knees,
They built with stone
From their own broad fields,
And they gathered in
What the country yields.
They laid up rock
In a world of sand
In the innocent hope
That the work would stand–
On the sunny face of a spring-lined hill
They built their barn, and it's standing still.
Foundation stone and above a loft,
And their animals low for the hay so soft.
Six days they worked, and the seventh, rest,
For a house of God they would have the best.
Their gold they gave, their plans they chose,
What they built it of, everybody knows!
They built these things, can we do less?
They laid up rock–must we confess
These builders came from better clay,
Or will we build with stone like they?