They sailed across the ocean neigh six score years ago.
And set their faces westward to a land they did not know.
The call to join the gath’ring saints in search of peace and rest,
Kindled great desires to build a Zion in the west.
O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.
The gospel news had spread abroad across Atlantic sea.
And grew within the hearts of a Danish family.
Like many others, they set sail and left their country home,
To join the saints en-route to a desert land unknown.
Ever westward, slowly bending to that Zion in the west.
Onward ever onward, there was little time to rest.
The dust was thick, the nights were cold. Death was ever near.
A shallow grave along the trail was a constant haunting fear.
O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.
James Eli Powell and Mary and two children drove a team,
That pulled a covered wagon to reach a distant dream.
But as the fate of many, Mary soon grew ill and died.
No marker shows her lonely grave, where the last goodbye was cried.
Yet through it all, they often sang; the words a story tell.
Around the fire, sweet music swelled and told that ‘all is well’.
The westward trek’s remembered for the courage that it shows.
They made the desert grasses bloom and blossom as a rose.
O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.
They planted seeds that grew into an empire through the years,
Though few knew more than crude log homes, sacrifice and tears.
The days have passed ere pioneers were seen throughout the land.
Yet their story leaves us something good to understand.
Though years roll on, and faces change, those very names we bear.
We still posses that self-same flame they carried here with care.
We can boldly raise it’s light; bright through all the years.
A tribute to those mighty ones, the Mormon Pioneers.
