Refuge from the Storm

Since recent events (general conference, coronavirus, earthquakes, erupting volcanos, storms, etc.) have reminded some people that we are living in the prophesied last days, and since there is no shortage of speculation or limits to the human imagination, I recommend Craig James Ostler's book Living in the Last Days: Refuge from the Storm as a good resource for anyone who is interested in better understanding the events that will precede the second coming of the Savior Jesus Christ. This book is light on conjecture, and heavy on doctrine, scripture, and the teachings of ancient and modern prophets. There is still much that we don't know, but it would be wise to acquaint ourselves thoroughly with what has already been revealed, because the coming of the Lord is near, even at the doors (Matt. 24:33): 

"And again, be patient in tribulation until I come; and, behold, I come quickly, and my reward is with me, and they who have sought me early shall find rest to their souls. Even so. Amen." (D&C 54:10)

Come, Let Us Read

Books are keys to wisdom’s treasure;

Books are gates to lands of pleasure;

Books are paths that upward lead;

Books are friends. Come, let us read.

― Emilie Poulsson

If Your Lips Would Keep from Slips

If you your lips would keep from slips,

Five things observe with care:

Of whom you speak, to whom you speak,

And how and when and where.

If you your ears would save from jeers,

These things keep meekly hid:

Myself and I, and mine and my,

And how I do and did. 

- Anonymous

Within my Bosom Glows Unearthly Fire

John Milton

Milton’s Prayer of Patience

By: Elizabeth (Lloyd) Howell

I am old and blind!
Men point at me as smitten by God’s frown;
Afflicted and deserted of my kind,
Yet am I not cast down.

I am weak, yet strong;
I murmur not that I no longer see;
Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong,
Father Supreme! to Thee.

All-merciful One!
When men are furthest, then art Thou most near,
When friends pass by, my weaknesses to shun,
Thy chariot I hear.

Thy glorious face
Is leaning toward me, and its holy light
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling-place,—
And there is no more night.

On my bended knee
I recognize Thy purpose clearly shown;
My vision Thou hast dimmed, that I may see
Thyself—Thyself alone.

I have naught to fear:
This darkness is the shadow of Thy wing;
Beneath it I am almost sacred—here
Can come no evil thing.

Oh, I seem to stand
Trembling, where foot of mortal ne’er hath been,
Wrapped in that radiance from the sinless land,
Which eye hath never seen!

Visions come and go:
Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng;
From angel lips I seem to hear the flow
Of soft and holy song.

It is nothing now,
When heaven is opening on my sightless eyes,
When airs from Paradise refresh my brow,
That earth in darkness lies.

In a purer clime
My being fills with rapture,—waves of thought
Roll in upon my spirit,—strains sublime
Break over me unsought.

Give me now my lyre!
I feel the stirrings of a gift divine:
Within my bosom glows unearthly fire
Lit by no skill of mine.

- Elizabeth (Lloyd) Howell