Lucy Thomas

Last night as I was preparing to help my dad with a presentation for Fathom the Good, we met a beautiful young lady named Lucy who reminded my dad of a singer named Lucy Thomas. I had heard of Lucy Mack Smith and Lucy from C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, but because I had never heard of Lucy Thomas, I decided to look her up later on YouTube... Holy Smokes! What a beauty, and what a voice.

The Gospel of Intelligence and Culture

Orson F. Whitney

"Wake up! ye sons and daughters of God! Trim your lamps and go forth to meet your distiny [sic]. A world awaits you: rich and poor, high and low, learned and unlearned. All must be preached to; all must be sought after; all must be left without excuse. And whither we cannot go, we must send; where we cannot speak we must write; and in order to win men with our writings we must know how and what to write. If the learned will only listen to the learned, God will send them learned men, to meet them on their own ground, and show them that "Mormonism," the Gospel of Christ, is not only the gospel of truth, but the gospel of intelligence and culture. The Lord is not above doing this. He is merciful to all men, not willing that any should perish. or have it to say they were unfairly dealt with. For over fifty years the gospel has been preached to the poor and lowly. It will yet go to the high and mighty, even to kings and nobles, and penetrate and climb to places hitherto deemed inaccessible. Our literature will help to take it there; for this, like all else with which we have to do, must be made subservient to the building up of Zion."


- Orson F. Whitney, "Home Literature" (Mormon Literature Website)

The "Socrates" Song

My dad's brother Denny is a very talented musician.

His latest song, "Socrates", is a good one.

The Kry

The Kry

For many years I have searched for the name of a band whose songs my friend introduced to me without telling me the name of the band. The songs were in French, and they have remained in my memory to this day without knowing exactly who sang them... until today.

I used to listen to these songs on a mix CD that my friend made for me, but the name of the band was not on the CD. I just enjoyed these songs in French, and they were engraved in my memory. 

Today, I was excited to discover that the name of the band is The Kry, and they have a YouTube channel (see also here),  and a website. I am enjoying many of their songs that I haven't heard before, but this is one song that was engraved in my memory because of that gift from a friend:

• "Prends ma main" ("Take my hand")

They also have a song called "Jesus is Coming Soon". 

Amen.

The Velveteen Rabbit

Do you remember the children's book The Velveteen Rabbit?

I had forgotten all about it until I read this fascinating article.

My aunt Dianne sent the article to my mom, and my mom sent it to me.

As I read the article, it sparked memories of the following quotations:

• "If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world." - C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

• "That unnameable something, desire for which pierces us like a rapier at the smell of bonfire, the sound of wild ducks flying overhead, the title of The Well at the World’s End, the opening lines of Kubla Khan, the morning cobwebs in late summer, or the noise of falling waves." - C.S. Lewis, Pilgrim's Regress"

• It has always seemed to me, ever since early childhood, amid all the commonplaces of life, I was very near to a kingdom of ideal beauty. Between it and me hung only a thin veil. I could never draw it quite aside, but sometimes a wind fluttered it and I caught a glimpse of the enchanting realms beyond-only a glimpse-but those glimpses have always made life worthwhile." - L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

• «Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.» "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." - Le Petit Prince, Antoine de St.-Exupéry

• "All that can be said is that everything in our life happens as though we entered upon it with a load of obligations contracted in a previous existence. There is no reason arising from the conditions of our life on this earth for us to consider ourselves obliged to do good, to be tactful, even to be polite. … All these obligations whose sanction is not of this present life, seem to belong to a different world, founded on kindness, scruples, sacrifices, a world entirely different from this one, a world whence we emerge to be born on this earth, before returning thither, perhaps to live under the empire of those unknown laws we have obeyed because we bore their teaching within us without knowing who had taught us.” (Marcel Proust, La Prisonniere, as quoted in Homo Viator by Gabriel Marcel.)"

• "We recognize what is lovely because we have seen it somewhere else, and as we walk through the world, we are constantly on the watch for it with a kind of nostalgia, so that when we see an object or a person that pleases us, it is like recognizing an old friend; it hits us in the solar plexus, and we need no measuring or lecturing to tell us that it is indeed quite perfect. It is something we have long been looking for, something we have seen in another world, memories of how things should be." - “Goods of First and Second Intent,” Collected Works of Hugh Nibley 9:528"

• "Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, 'Do it again'; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, 'Do it again' to the sun; and every evening, 'Do it again' to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we." - G.K. Chesteron, Orthodoxy"

We Bore Their Teaching Within Us

Marcel Proust

“All that can be said is that everything in our life happens as though we entered upon it with a load of obligations contracted in a previous existence. There is no reason arising from the conditions of our life on this earth for us to consider ourselves obliged to do good, to be tactful, even to be polite. … All these obligations whose sanction is not of this present life, seem to belong to a different world, founded on kindness, scruples, sacrifices, a world entirely different from this one, a world whence we emerge to be born on this earth, before returning thither, perhaps to live under the empire of those unknown laws we have obeyed because we bore their teaching within us without knowing who had taught us.” (Marcel Proust, La Prisonniere, as quoted in Homo Viator by Gabriel Marcel.)

The Boat

The Boat

I owned a little boat a while ago.

And sailed the morning sea without a fear.

And whither any breeze might fairly blow

I steered my little craft afar and near.

Mine was the boat

and mine the air.

And mine the sea.

Nor mine a care.

My boat became my place of mighty toil.

I sailed at evening to the fishing ground.

At morn my boat was freighted with the spoil

Which my all-conquering work had found.

Mine was the boat.

And mine the net

And mine the skill

And power to get.

One day there came along that silent shore.

While I my net was casting the sea.

A man who spoke as never man before.

I followed Him; new life began in me.

Mine was the boat

But His the voice.

And His the call.

Yet mine the choice.

Ah! 'twas a fearful night. out on the lake.

And all my skill availed not, at the helm.

Till Him asleep I waked, crying, "Take

Thou the helm - lest water overwhelm!"

And His the boat.

And His the sea.

And His the peace.

O'er all and me.

Once from the boat He taught the curious throng

Then bade me cast my net into the sea,

I murmured but obeyed, nor was it long

Before the catch amazed and humbled me.

His was the boat.

And His the skill

And His the catch.

And His my will.

- George MacDonald

Whom Have You Tried to Bless Today?

Living What We Pray For

I knelt to pray when day was done

And prayed, “O Lord, bless everyone;

Lift from each saddened heart the pain,

And let the sick be well again.”

And then I woke another day

And carelessly went on my way;

The whole day long, I did not try

To wipe a tear from any eye.

I did not try to share the load

Of any brother on the road;

I did not even go to see

The sick man, just next door to me.

Yet, once again, when day was done,

I prayed, “O Lord, bless everyone.”

But as I prayed, into my ear

There came a voice that whispered clear:

“Pause now, my son, before you pray;

Whom have you tried to bless today?

God’s sweetest blessings always go

By hands that serve Him here below.”

And then I hid my face and cried,

“Forgive me, God, I have not tried.

Let me but live another day,

And I will live the way I pray.”

- Whitney Montgomery

First-Class Fighting Trim

C.S. Lewis

"Prudence means practical common sense, taking the trouble to think out what you

are doing and what is likely to come of it. Nowadays most people hardly think of

Prudence as one of the ‘virtues’. In fact, because Christ said we could only get into

His world by being like children, many Christians have the idea that, provided you

are ‘good’, it does not matter being a fool. But that is a misunderstanding. In the

first place, most children show plenty of ‘prudence’ about doing the things they are

really interested in, and think them out quite sensibly. In the second place, as St.

Paul points out, Christ never meant that we were to remain children in intelligence:

on the contrary. He told us to be not only ‘as harmless as doves’, but also ‘as wise

as serpents’. He wants a child’s heart, but a grown-up’s head. He wants us to be

simple, single-minded, affectionate, and teachable, as good children are; but He also

wants every bit of intelligence we have to be alert at its job, and in first-class fighting

trim. The fact that you are giving money to a charity does not mean that you need

not try to find out whether that charity is a fraud or not. The fact that what you are

thinking about is God Himself (for example, when you are praying) does not mean

that you can be content with the same babyish ideas which you had when you were

a five-year-old. It is, of course, quite true that God will not love you any the less, or

have less use for you, if you happen to have been born with a very second-rate brain.

He has room for people with very little sense, but He wants every one to use what

sense they have."

Deep and Unmet Needs

Spencer W. Kimball

"Jesus saw sin as wrong but also was able to see sin as springing from deep and unmet needs on the part of the sinner. This permitted him to condemn the sin without condemning the individual. We can show forth our love for others even when we are called upon to correct them. We need to be able to look deeply enough into the lives of others to see the basic causes for their failures and shortcomings."

- Spencer W. Kimball

Ships, Like Men, Respond to Challenge

James A. Michener

"A ship, like a human being, moves best when it is slightly athwart the wind, when it has to keep its sails tight and attend its course. Ships, like men, do poorly when the wind is directly behind, pushing them sloppily on their way so that no care is required in steering or in the management of sails; the wind seems favorable, for it blows in the direction one is heading, but actually it is destructive because it induces a relaxation in tension and skill. What is needed is a wind slightly opposed to the ship, for then tension can be maintained, and juices can flow and ideas can germinate, for ships, like men, respond to challenge”

- James A. Michener

Turn Their Lives Over to God

President Ezra Taft Benson

"Men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace. Whoever will lose his life in the service of God will find eternal life." 

- President Ezra Taft Benson

Quiet Down, Cobwebs

Song for a Fifth Child

Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep.
- by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

He Is Building a Palace

C.S. Lewis

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself." 

- C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

The Distance Narrows

Spencer W. Kimball

“I find that when I get casual in my relationships with divinity and when it seems that no divine ear is listening and no divine voice is speaking, that I am far, far away. If I immerse myself in the scriptures the distance narrows and the spirituality returns. I find myself loving more intensely those whom I must love with all my heart and mind and strength, and loving them more, I find it easier to abide their counsel.”

Abraham Lincoln's Favorite Poem

Mortality

By William Knox

Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud

A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave

He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,

Be scattered around, and together be laid;

And the young and the old, and the low and the high,

Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie.

The infant a mother attended and loved;

The mother that infant's affection who proved;

The husband, that mother and infant who blest,--

Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.

The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,

Shone beauty and pleasure, -- her triumphs are by;

And the memory of those who loved her and praised,

Are alike from the minds of the living erased.

The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne,

The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn,

The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave,

Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.

The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap,

The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep,

The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,

Have faded away like the grass that we tread.

The saint, who enjoyed the communion of Heaven,

The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven,

The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,

Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.

So the multitude goes -- like the flower or the weed

That withers away to let others succeed;

So the multitude comes -- even those we behold,

To repeat every tale that has often been told.

For we are the same our fathers have been;

We see the same sights our fathers have seen;

We drink the same stream, we view the same sun,

And run the same course our fathers have run.

The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think;

From the death we are shrinking, our fathers would shrink;

To the life we are clinging, they also would cling; --

But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.

They loved -- but the story we cannot unfold;

They scorned -- but the heart of the haughty is cold;

They grieved -- but no wail from their slumber will come;

They joyed -- but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.

They died -- ay, they died; -- we things that are now,

That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,

And make in their dwellings a transient abode;

Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.

Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,

Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;

And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,

Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.

'Tis the wink of an eye -- 'tis the draught of a breath--

From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,

From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud:--

Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

Related Link

Poetry Written by Abraham Lincoln

How to Live in Eternity

Brigham Young

"What is the nature and beauty of Joseph's mission? You know that I am one of his Apostles. When I first heard him preach, he brought heaven and earth together; and all the priests of the day could not tell me anything correct about heaven, hell, God, angels, or devils: they were as blind as Egyptian darkness. When I saw Joseph Smith, he took heaven, figuratively speaking, and brought it down to earth; and he took the earth, brought it up, and opened up, in plainness and simplicity, the things of God; and that is the beauty of his mission. I had a testimony, long before that, that he was a Prophet of the Lord, and that was consoling. Did not Joseph do the same to your understandings? Would he not take the Scriptures and make them so plain and simple that everybody could understand? Every person says, "Yes, it is admirable; it unites the heavens and the earth together;" and as for time, it is nothing, only to learn us how to live in eternity."

- Brigham Young, Journal of Discourses

An Interview with the Savior Himself

President David O. McKay

In 1965, President David O. McKay made the following statement to a group of Church employees: 

Let me assure you, Brethren, that some day you will have a personal priesthood interview with the Savior himself. If you are interested, I will tell you the order in which he will ask you to account for your earthly responsibilities.

First, he will request an accountability report about your relationship with your wife. Have you actively been engaged in making her happy and ensuring that her needs have been met as an individual?

Second, he will want an accountability report about each of your children individually. He will not attempt to have this for simply a family stewardship but will request information about your relationship to each and every child.

Third, he will want to know what you personally have done with the talents you were given in the preexistence.

Fourth, he will want a summary of your activity in your Church assignments. He will not be necessarily interested in what assignments you have had, for in his eyes the home teacher and a mission president are probably equals, but he will request a summary of how you have been of service to your fellow man in your Church assignments.

Fifth, he will have no interest in how you earned your living but if you were honest in all your dealings.

Sixth, he will ask for an accountability on what you have done to contribute in a positive manner to your community, state, country, and the world.

(Reported by Cloyd Hofheins in a talk to the Seventies Quorum of Provo Utah Oak Hills Stake, May 16, 1982)

Far Too Easily Pleased

C.S. Lewis

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

- C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, and Other Addresses

We Find Them But Once in a While

WORTH WHILE

It is easy enough to be pleasant,

When life flows by like a song,

But the man worth while is one who will smile,

When everything goes dead wrong.

For the test of the heart is trouble,

And it always comes with the years,

And the smile that is worth the praises of earth,

Is the smile that shines through tears.

It is easy enough to be prudent,

When nothing tempts you to stray,

When without or within no voice of sin

Is luring your soul away;

But it's only a negative virtue

Until it is tried by fire,

And the life that is worth the honor on earth,

Is the one that resists desire.

By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,

Who had no strength for the strife,

The world's highway is cumbered to-day,

They make up the sum of life.

But the virtue that conquers passion,

And the sorrow that hides in a smile,

It is these that are worth the homage on earth

For we find them but once in a while.

Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906.

Get Up and Win that Race

"The Race"

“Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten,” they shout and plead

there’s just too much against you now, this time you can’t succeed.

And as I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,

my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene,

for just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.

A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,

excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race

or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.

Their fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son,

and each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went, young hearts and hopes of fire,

to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.

One boy in particular, his dad was in the crowd,

was running near the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”

But as he speeded down the field across a shallow dip,

the little boy who thought to win, lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself, his hands, flew out to brace,

and mid the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.

So, down he fell and with him hope, he couldn’t win it now.

Embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,

which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”

He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,

and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,

his mind went faster than his legs, he slipped and fell again.

He wished that he had quit before with one disgrace.

“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”

But, in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face,

that steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”

So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last,

if I’m going to gain those yards, he thought, I’ve got to run real fast.

Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight or ten,

but trying so hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye,

there’s no sense running anymore—three strikes I’m out—why try'

The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away,

so far behind, so error prone, closer all the way.

“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought, “I’ll live with my disgrace.”

But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low. “Get up and take your place.

You were not meant for failure here, get up and win that race.”

With borrowed will, “Get up,” it said, “you haven’t lost at all,

for winning is not more than this; to rise each time you fall.”

So, up he rose to run once more, and with a new commit,

he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,

still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win.

Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.

Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner as he crossed, first place;

head high and proud and happy—no falling, no disgrace.

but, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, last place,

the crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,

you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”

To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face,

the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.

For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.

And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.

“Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten,” they still shout in my face,

but another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race.”

Show Him the Better Way

"The Upward Reach"

He stood at the crossroads all alone,

The sunlight in his face.

He had no thought for the world unknown—

He was set for a manly race.

But the roads stretched east, and the roads stretched west,

And the lad knew not which road was best;

So he chose the road that led him down,

And he lost the race and victor’s crown.

He was caught at last in an angry snare

Because no one stood at the crossroads there

To show him the better road.

Another day, at the self-same place,

A boy with high hopes stood.

He, too, was set for a manly race;

He, too, was seeking the things that were good;

But one was there who the roads did know,

And that one showed him which way to go.

So he turned from the road that would lead him down,

And he won the race and the victor’s crown.

He walks today the highway fair

Because one stood at the crossroads there

To show him the better way.

- by Sadie Tiller Crawley

The Oyster

The Oyster

There once was an oyster whose story I'll tell --
Who found that some sand had slipped under his shell.
Just one little grain --but it gave him much pain --
For oysters have feelings --although they're quite plain.

Now did he berate the working of fate --
Which had led him to such a deplorable state?
No! He said to himself, as he lay on the shelf,
"If I can't remove it --I'll try to improve it."

So, the years rolled by as years always do,
And he came to ultimate destiny --stew!
But the small grain of sand which had bothered him so --
Was a beautiful pearl all richly aglow.

Now this tale has a moral for isn't it grand --
What an oyster can do with a morsel of sand?
What couldn't we do -- if we'd only begin
To enrich all those things that get under our skin.

- Anon.

Audrey Assad

Audrey Assad

Audrey Assad sings beautifully. Here are a few of my favorites:

• "Help My Unbelief"
• "Be Thou My Vision"
• "It is Well with My Soul"
• "Oh the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus"
• "How Can I Keep from Singing"
• "Even Unto Death"

Absolutely beautiful. Thank you.

Flowing Forth in Its Own Native Simplicity

The Prophet Joseph Smith

“His [Joseph Smith's] language [abounded] in original eloquence peculiar to himself—not polished—not studied—not smoothed and softened by education and refined by art; but flowing forth in its own native simplicity, and profusely abounding in variety of subject and manner. He interested and edified, while, at the same time, he amused and entertained his audience; and none listened to him that were ever weary with his discourse. I have even known him to retain a congregation of willing and anxious listeners for many hours together, in the midst of cold or sunshine, rain or wind, while they were laughing at one moment and weeping the next. Even his most bitter enemies were generally overcome, if he could once get their ears”

- Autobiography of Parley Parker Pratt, ed. Parley P. Pratt Jr. (1961), 46).

You Can Sing This Song When I'm Gone

James Taylor: Mudslide Slim and the Blue Horizon

Like many of his songs, James Taylor's "You Can Close Your Eyes" is timeless.

It was beautiful then, and it will always be beautiful.

"You Can Close Your Eyes"

James Taylor

Well the sun is surely sinking down

But the moon is slowly rising

And this old world must still be spinning 'round

And I still love you

So close your eyes

You can close your eyes, it's all right

I don't know no love songs

And I can't sing the blues anymore

But I can sing this song

And you can sing this song

When I'm gone

Well it won't be long before another day

We're gonna have a good time

And no one's gonna take that time away

You can stay as long as you like

So close your eyes

You can close your eyes, it's all right

I don't know no love songs

And I can't sing the blues anymore

But I can sing this song

And you can sing this song

When I'm gone

So close your eyes

You can close your eyes, it's all right

I don't know no love songs

And I can't sing the blues anymore

But I can sing this song

And you can sing this song

When I'm gone

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

Tell Me Where is Fancy Bred?

The Trial Scene, 'The Merchant of Venice', Act IV, Scene 1. Oil on canvas. Robert Smirke © RSC Theatre Collection

A Few Favorite Passages from Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice

BASSANIO

In Belmont is a lady richly left;
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes
I did receive fair speechless messages:
Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia:
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand,
And many Jasons come in quest of her.
O my Antonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind presages me such thrift,
That I should questionless be fortunate!

---

PORTIA

There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there,
Then I am yours.
He unlocks the golden casket

MOROCCO

O hell! what have we here?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing.

Reads

All that glitters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscroll'd:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heartTo take a tedious leave: thus losers part. 

---

ARRAGON

What is here?

Reads 

The fire seven times tried this:
Seven times tried that judgment is,
That did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow's bliss:
There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So be gone: you are sped.
Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here
With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.
Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.

---

Music, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself

SONG.

Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.
It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring fancy's knellI'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell. 

---

BASSANIO

What find I here? 

Opening the leaden casket 

Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips,
Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider and hath woven
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs; but her eyes,--
How could he see to do them? having made one,
Methinks it should have power to steal both his
And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune. 

Reads 

You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair and choose as true!
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content and seek no new,
If you be well pleased with this
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave;
I come by note, to give and to receive.
Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
Hearing applause and universal shout,
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether these pearls of praise be his or no;
So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so;
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.

---

PORTIA

The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.

---

LORENZO

The moon shines bright: in such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
And they did make no noise, in such a night
Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.

JESSICA

In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself
And ran dismay'd away.

LORENZO

In such a night
Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.

JESSICA

In such a night
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old AEson.

LORENZO

In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.

JESSICA

In such a night
Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith
And ne'er a true one.

LORENZO

In such a night
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

JESSICA

I would out-night you, did no body come;
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.

---

PORTIA

That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.