Thursday, August 30, 2007

To Mrs. _____

TO MRS. ______
By Eliza R Snow

Pleasure sat gently smiling when
I read th’ effusion of your pen.
Thought wakens thought: a thought express’d
Called your thoughts forth, with which I’m blest,

One gem of mind, I value more
Than glittering piles from mammon’s store.
We find a radius in the soul,
Illumined by th’ eternal pole,

And thro’ the heart’s deep sympathy,
We taste of immortality.
The blessed prescience God has given
Of immortality and heaven,

Sweetens and creams life’s flowing cup,
And swallows all the bitter up.
All pain and grief to pleasure tend-
Each human suff’ring has an end:

Each yoke will burst-each bondage break-
Each wounded heart will cease to ache:
All clouds will scatter-storms will cease-
All warfare terminate in peace-

All swellings of the waves, be o’er-
There is no sea without a shore.
That restless thing, anxiety,
The finely masked disloyalty,

Is but the lack of confidence
In God, our strength and our defence.
Compared with past life-life before,
What is the present? ‘Tis no more

Than a mere point- a little dot,
(God grant it may not prove a blot.)
A life of toil, of care and pain,
Where weakness, pride and ign’rance reign.

But ‘tis as God ordained to be,
And He well knows what’s good for me;
And all I have to fear, or do,
Is to obediently pursue

His Priesthood leadings, and obey
His providences day by day:
And thus, whatever Father gives,
His daughter thankfully receives.

And when I’m all in all resigned-
In very heart as well as mind,
I’m filled with light-I’ve eyes to see
His kind parental love for me:

To His requirements, constant yes,
Produces constant happiness;
And this, the germ of perfect peace,
If cherished, daily will increase.

To me, it matters little now,
To where I rise-to what I bow;
Or toil or ease, I little care
If Father’s smiles I freely share;

And when th’ interior all is right,
I have no outward foes to fight.
I war for Zion-not for me:
I’ve signed a gen’ral amnesty

To all injustice, strife and hate,
Which, to my single self, relate:
Th’ intenti’al evil-doer will,
Sooner or later, foot the bill.

Then need we trouble? Surely, no;
Nor stoop to fight an outward foe.
I glimpse at data far behind
What now is tangible to mind.

Ah! There’s a something comes to me,
Like figures wrought in filligree;
A something old-both old and new,
And yet, inviolably true.

Thought bursts the bound of this low earth-
On past-life’s ocean launches forth,
And traces our existence, ere
The Gods had formed this nether sphere.

But now I’m but a child of dust;
Thanks, thanks to Him, in whom I trust,
I’m not without his wise direction,
His smiles, his guidance and protection.

Adam, our father-Eve, our mother,
And Jesus Christ, our elder brother,
Are to my understanding shown:
My heart responds, they are my own.

Perfection lifts them far from me,
But what they are, we yet may be,
If we, tho’ slowly, follow on,
We’ll reach the point to which they’ve gone.

Then, Sister, what-O, what this life-
Our Edens and our Goshens, rife
With all the fatness, and the most
Of excellence that mortals boast,

Contrasted with eternal blessings,
When Earth renew’d, and worth possessing,
Is in celestial beauty drest,
And crowned with everlasting rest?

There heart with heart and mind with mind,
In bonds eternal are entwin’d.
I know how bitter portions taste,
They’re med’cines given, but not to waste.

Sweet sweeter seems when bitter’s past;
Thus health will be secured at last.
Fear not, my Sister: God is just,
He’ll succor those who firmly trust

His justice and His mercy too,
His grace sufficient is, for you.
How blest to be on Zion’s ship!
All safe at helm, she’ll make the trip

With all aboard- a mighty host,
She’ll clear the swells and reach the coast.
Unwisely and untimely sought,
With evil, blessings may be fraught;

But in God’s chosen time to give,
All things, are blessings, we receive.
Training the mind to circumstances
Our pow’r of happiness enhances.

‘Tis not when seas and waves are still,
That mariners improve their skill,
"We suffer to progress:" ‘Tis so,
‘Neath mighty pressures, spirits grow.

But O, that glorious day of rest,
With sweet associations blest!
With gratitude my feelings swell
That I’m of favored Israel.

My heart is full-too full to write-
Dear Madam, Sister, Friend, good night.

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