Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MORMON TRIAL; ELDER SAUL'S STORY, by DANIEL MACINTYRE HENDERSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE MORMON TRIAL; ELDER SAUL'S STORY, by                    
First Line: On cummorah hill
Last Line: By jordan river!
Subject(s): Mormons


I

On Cummorah Hill
The angel of the Lord
Flashed at Joseph Smith
His flaming sword.

Nigh Cummorah Hill
Joseph found
The Lost Tribe's golden plates
Hidden in the ground.
He found the golden plates
With their Revelation pages,
And the angel bade him read
The mysteries of the ages.

II

Baptist was I --
My father, Gospel George,
Tramped without shoes
The snows of Valley Forge.
He prayed -- and he swore,
But I gave up kin and kith,
As the Angel Nephi bade,
To follow Prophet Smith!

When the Gentiles rose
The saints to destroy;
When our Prophet's blood stained
The earth of Illinois,
Then Angel Nephi said,
"Anoint Brigham Young."
And we said, "Yea,"
For he had a prophet's tongue;
He had the will of Moses
And the heart of a lion.
And the Lord said to him,
"Lead the Saints west to Zion!"

We came to deep rivers --
They wouldn't roll back!
We met the Philistines --
God let them attack!
We suffered famine,
But no manna came;
Yet over the plains
Moved our pillar of flame:
'Twas Prophet Joseph Smith --
His flesh they might slay,
But his spirit blazed
Our wilderness way.

III

By the North Platte River
We prayed and cried,
For with plague and hunger
Weak folk died.
Among the cactus,
Amid the wild sage,
The mounds of our dead
Marked our pilgrimage.

A new plague rose
In our desert tramp --
Rattlesnakes swarmed
Where we made our camp.
They stung the horses,
They poisoned cattle,
Where we laid our heads
Came the viper's rattle!
"Fight them with flame,"
Said Brigham Young,
And we were delivered
From the adder's tongue!

IV

Like a thief in the night --
Not a grass-blade stirred --
The wolfish Sioux
Entered our herd.
We woke to the bellow
And rush of cattle.
We mounted, we went
As Gideon to battle.

In a thundering race
That endured till morn
We tamed the cyclone
Of hoof and horn!
We turned the herd

With rifle flame,
And once as I fired
The vision came:
The Prophet rode
To help us smite
The skull of the thieving
Midianite!

We were sorely spent,
We were wounded or gored,
But the red morning rang
With our praise to the Lord!

V

When we climbed from the prairie
Children ran
And plucked gay flowers
For the grim caravan.
Under blue mountains
Capped with snows
They plucked monk's-hood
And the evening primrose.
All the hunger
And fright and pain
Of our pilgrimage
On the endless plain,
The young forgot
In the green hill-lands
As they clutched shy ferns
In their little moist hands.

We had come to Canaan --
Yet it didn't seem
The Paradise
Of the wanderers' dream!
Our eyes were blind
To the hills of grace,
But our Captain said:
"This is the place.
Here ends our warfare;
Here end our woes.
We will make the desert
Blossom as the rose!"

And then we saw
The lilies quiver
In the golden sun
By Jordan River!





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