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Rh I sigh for thy bountiful harvest again,

Thy fruit and thy calm gentle rain;

And thy pure, balmy air, which wafts freedom's blest song;

Oh! Oregon, my home.

—Henry S. DeMoss.

Let us then reason: If the unfolded book of nature has its inspiring lesson for a poet's invocation, how much more should the mighty volumes written by the hand of Providence invite us to profound contemplation? Our Passover stands forth as the grandest milestone, as the epoch that marks the starting point in the evolution of liberty. With the Passover, Egypt began the early spring of humanity, still wrapped in the deadly frost of slavery. Israel's departure from Egypt was the starting point on the journey to Sinai, over whose ideal peak that sun should rise, whose fire and light was strong enough to melt every iron shackle and stamp every man with the image of his Creator.

Whether celebrated on the shores of the Nile, or on the hallowed banks of the Jordan, by a Joshua or Josiah, in the days of exile on the Euphrates, or in the golden era of the Maccabeans under conquering Rome, or its dissolution, whether crouched in dark ghettos or hunted by intolerant mobs—the