I recently found a poem that I think is a
particularly beautiful one. It was written by John Taylor (later the
third President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) for
and to a New York City woman named Abby Jane Hart. The poem ("Lines, Written in the Album of Miss Abby Jane Hart, of New York City") is dated 5
September 1846, and it was printed in The Latter-day Saints' Millennial Star
8/11 (19 December 1846): 178-179. The poem is as follows, and I think
it illustrates some interesting tendencies in Latter-day Saint thought:
Abby:
Knowest thou whence thou camest? Thine
Origin?
Who thou art? What? and whither
Thou
art bound? A crysolis of yesterday:
To-day
a gaudy fluttering butterfly –
A
moth; to-morrow crushed, and then an end
Of
thee. Is this so? And must thou perish
Thus,
and die ingloriously without a
Hope?
Ah,
no; thou'rt no such thing. Thou in the
Bosom
of thy Father bask'd, and liv'd, and
Mov'd
thousands of years ago. Yes, e'er this
Mundane
sphere from chaos sprung, or sun, or
Moon,
or stars, or world was fram'd: before the
Sons
of God for joy did shout, or e'er the
Morning
stars together sung – thou liv'dst.
Thou
liv'dst to live again. Ah, no! thou liv'd
But
to continue life
eternal – to
Live,
and move, and act eternally. Yes;
Long
as a spirit, God, or world exists;
From
everlasting, eternal, without end.
And
whilst thou dwelt in thy paternal home,
And
with thy brethren shar'd extatic bliss,
All
that a spirit could not cloth'd in flesh,
Thou
through the vista of unnumbered years
Saw'st
through the glimmering veil that thou would'st
Dwell
in flesh – just as the Gods.
Tread
in the
Footsteps
of thine elder brother, Jesus –
The
“Prince of Peace,” for whom a body was
Prepared.
Thou
heard; thou look'd; thou long'd; thou pray'd;
Thou
hop'd for this. At length it came; and thou
Appear'd
on this terraqueous ball,
Body
and spirit; a living soul, forth
From
the hands of Eloheim – eternal
As
himself – part of thy God. A small spark
Of
Deity struck from the fire of his
Eternal
blaze.
Thou
came! thou came to live! Of life thou art
A
living monument; to it thou still
Dost
cling eternal life. To thee all else
Are
straw, and chaff, and bubbles light as air;
And
will be all, until thou gain once more
Thy
Father's breast; rais'd, quicken'd, immortal;
Body,
spirit, all: a God among the
Gods
forever blest.
Abby:
and hast thou dared to launch thy
Fragile
barque on truth's tempestuous sea;
To
meet the pelting storm, and proudly brave
The
dangers of the raging main; and through
The
rocks, and shoals, and yawning gulphs, pursue
The
nearest
way to life, in hopes that thou
Would'st
speedy gain a seat among the Gods?
Seest
thou the multitudes who sail in
Gilded
barques, and gently float along the
Silvery
stream? Downward they go with sweet
Luxurious
ease, and scarce a zephyr moves
The
tranquil bosom of the placid stream.
Unconscious
of the greatness of the prize
They
might obtain, they glide along in peace;
And
as they never soar aloft, nor mount
On
eagle's wings, nor draw aside the veil
Of
other worlds, they know none else than this –
No
other joys. They dream away their life,
And
die forgot. Just as the butterfly
They
gaily flutter on: to-day they live –
To-morrow
are no more.
And
though, like thee,
In
them is the eternal spark; thousands
Of
weary years must roll along e'er they
Regain
the prize they might with thee have shar'd.
Regain
it? Never! No! They may come where
Thou
wert, but never can they with thee share
Extatic
bliss.
For
whilst in heaven's progressive
Science
skill'd, thou soard'st from world to world, clad
In
the robes of bright seraphic light; and
With
thy God, eternal – onward goest, a
Priestess
and a queen – reigning and ruling in
The
realms of light. Unlike the imbeciles
Who
dared not brook the scorn of men, and knew not
How
to prize eternal life.
Abby:
the cup's within thy reach; drink thou
The
vital balm and live.
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