Like it or not, our lives are built of structures. We organize our days according to everything from natural events, like the rising and setting of the sun and our own biological rhythms, to the hours of the clock that our society has assigned to the day, to the needs we have to coordinate with family, work, friends and society. It is not possible to separate the “day” from these structures. Even when they cause us trouble, these structures make up the recurring experience of our lives.

When it comes to church (or really to any organization) our experience is similarly organized in structures, chief among these is the priesthood. We have priesthood quorums, local and general church leadership, auxiliary organizations, and MANY informal structures. These are all part of our experience in the church, and, once again, it is not possible to separate “church” from these structures, even if they cause us trouble or even harm us.[1]

This Come Follow Me lesson looks at the structure established in D&C 107, and suggests how important having structures is to accomplishing Heaven’s purposes. And in promulgating this structure we learn how it is supposed to help us as we too seek to accomplish the Lord’s purposes.

 

The Lord supports me when He calls me to serve.

One of the more positive aspects of the structures in the church is that each of us is meant to serve, and that service changes from time to time. Since this is a central part of Church experience, it is also often the source of our complaints and struggles. Each of us will feel overwhelmed at some points in our church lives, or like cogs in a machine at others. Callings can be boring or beyond us. And then we have to work with others, in most cases.

Poetry has long been used for encouragement, especially in the 19th century, when “inspirational” poems often appeared in newspapers, which generally included poetry on the first page. Following the style, many LDS poets wrote poems meant to encourage members in their lives and duties. The following 1855 poem is like that, encouraging members to fulfill “All duties which upon you may be laid.” Its author, Charles W. Penrose, was added to the Quorum of the Twelve in 1904.

 

Faint Not!

by Charles W. Penrose

Faint not! faint not! ye Saints of latter days,

Though tribulations may upon you fall;

Trust in the Lord, your prayers unto Him raise,

He will support those who upon Him call.

Faint not! faint not.

Faint not! faint not! should death himself draw nigh,

Our God unto the uttermost can save;

Let us, then, on His promises rely,

Whose power extends beyond death and the grave.

Faint not! faint not.

Faint not! faint not! nor think that God will change;

His promises will stand for ever sure;

And though, at times, appearances be strange,

Blessed are they who to the end endure.

Faint not! faint not.

Faint not! faint not! but prove that you are Saints,

Faithful unto the covenants you’ve made;

Fulfilling, without murmurs or complaints,

All duties which upon you may be laid.

Faint not! faint not.

1855

 

The priesthood is “after the Order of the Son of God.”

The priesthood is, of course, a key structure in the Church. It gives its members the responsibility of acting for God, perhaps encouraging them to act to bless the lives of others where they might not otherwise.

I like this poem by Henry W. Naisbitt because it not only suggests the importance of this part of the structure of the Church, but also points out the interlocking nature of the structures we need. Not only are members of the priesthood acting in concert, but they are also singing music, which is made up of interlocking structures of words and music, each of which are made up of their own interlocking structures (rhyme and meter in the words, and tune and meter for the music), which is made up of still more structures. Naisbitt demonstrates the power of these structures:

The hymn has ceased, but yet its spell

Seems fastened on each spirit there;

Deep silence reigns, but mark it well,

In glistening eye, and falling tear.

And best of all, in the end he acknowledges that his own efforts at weaving together the interlocking structures of words and rhyme and meter are not up to the standard of Zion’s Poetess, Eliza R. Snow.

 

The Power of Song

by H. W. Naisbitt

The sun had sunk in the distant west,

And tinged the floating clouds with gold;

Which threw an air of coming rest,

O’er canyon deep, and mountain bold.

 

Suspended there the twilight seemed,

Upon that crowded, tented spot;

On all around its lustre beamed,

As if to question, but could not.

 

Upon the heights which frowned on high—

On every jutting point arrayed;

Were batteries, breastworks, much that I

Deemed for a sure destruction made.

 

And all upon the tented ground,

Were bristling arms of deadly power;

Which glistened as the camp-fires round,

Danced up that solemn sunset hour.

 

Men’s forms were flitting far and near—

The groups could here and there be seen;

What brings those countless warriors here?

Did conquest, power, or glory’s dream?

 

Have they been drawn from happy homes

By force or fraud of kingly reign?

By laws enrolled in ponderous tomes?

I ask the question yet in vain.

 

But hark! Upon the listening ear,

Borne on the gentle evening breeze;

Come strains that savor not of fear,

Of bloodshed, or inglorious ease.

 

Stirring the fountains of the heart,

By its harmonious solemn swell;

Ah-well, the listener now may start

And captive be to that sweet spell!

 

For that is one of Zion’s songs—

One of the brightest, richest, best;

Which to her worship now belongs

Within the chambers of the west.

 

Be still my heart—my pulse, be still,

And drink of that seraphic strain;

Which now increased would bind my will,

And memory with its golden chain.

 

Come bless the bard by God inspired,

To tell of scenes so long ago;

Or by prophetic impulse fired,

Of home, when done with Time, below.

* * * *

The interest deepens of that hour,

As darkness veils the roseate sky,

And twinkling stars mark Father’s power—

Those gems which deck the dome on high.

 

Ah, still that music ’round me floats,

Now echoed as by mountains bound,

Distilling from its richest notes,

The peace of God, as snowflake ’round.

 

Above that congregated host,

The angels bent a listening ear;

For to my contemplation, most

‘Twas as the gate of heaven near.

* * * *

The hymn has ceased, but yet its spell

Seems fastened on each spirit there;

Deep silence reigns, but mark it well,

In glistening eye, and falling tear.

 

More precious these than sculptured urn,

Or monument of marble rare;

Than obelisk at every turn,

Such as the world’s great heroes share.

 

Enshrined within the heart of hearts,

Of thousands of earth’s noblest, best;

The deepest homage freely starts,

Throughout the vallies of the west.

 

Ah, millions more now scattered wide,

Through every land shall come and bow

In Zion’s courts to swell the tide

Of song, as sing those warriors now.

 

The mystery then, is solved, and more—

The question answered—I’m content—

These legions and the arms they bore,

Are not for blood or plunder meant.

 

They are not in the canyon’s shade

The “reign of terror” to extend,

Nor are they by proud monarchs made

Through peaceful nations war to send.

 

But in the noblest cause they stand,

Defence of home and blood—bought right;

Greater than any Spartan band

Enrolled on history’s pages bright.

 

These are the warriors God hath raised,

No man-invented sign they bear;

No national feeling now is raised,

Obedience is the watch-word there.

 

‘Tis by its power a kingdom grows

To revolutionize the world;

Its standard, Truth, will not its foes

To utter nothingness be hurled?

 

God’s Prophet leads—a chosen man—

Ordained a king and priest to reign;

So Israel leads the daring van,

Man’s great redemption to obtain.

* * * *

The song that stirred the listening ear,

That angels brought in hosts around;

That fired the heart of each one near,

And sank in reveries’ depths profound.

 

Was “Oh, my Father,” which when felt,

Chains not alone the common man,

But bids the sturdiest heart to melt,

This, through the “hosts of Israel” ran.

 

Invincible the legions are

Who sing such strains with one accord

They quail not at the din of war,

But fighting, pray, and serve the Lord

 

They hail the time to come when one

Shall chase his thousand, bid them flee,

And two shall make “ten thousand” run—

The power of God so strong shall be.

 

By Priesthood men shall rule and reign,

Its influence wield from sea to sea;

Earth’s myriads shall their rights regain

From tyrants and oppressors free.

* * * *

Oh, had I that poetic fire

Which stirs the pulse and binds the heart;

Which as one man can hosts inspire,

In worship or in war to start.

 

I’d barter crowns, or emperors sway,

Care not for glory, trump of fame,

Content to live my common day,

And with the humblest have my name.

 

Yet I would weave a wreath of song,

Would twine a chaplet of the bay,

And bring “Forget-me-not” along,

To crown the poet day by day.

 

For I have felt her spirit-spell,

To it my heart doth freely bow,

And duty, pleasure, bids me tell

Thine honored name—Eliza Snow.

1884

 

The Lord’s servants are “upheld by the confidence, faith, and prayer of the Church.”

What holds these structures together? We somehow assume that the structure itself does all the work—that it is somehow separate from us and from our efforts. And while, like a house, structures can often stand unaided, they still require glue or mortar or nails to hold them together. Social structures are no different. They require the faith and confidence of the participants to hold together. A prophet without honor is soon no prophet at all, and a church that no one attends is quickly unable to serve anyone. Our “confidence, faith, and prayer” make the difference.

Poet Gustavus Hills envisoned Zion as he watched the Church recover from the devastation of Missouri, seeing Zion rising and prosperous. And he sees that those in Zion will demonstrate this “confidence, faith, and prayer.” “No more in thy borders, the voice of contention, / Of discord, or wailing, or sorrow, they raise.” When he wrote this, Hills was himself not yet a member of the Church; he joined a year later and was soon a professor of music at the University of Nauvoo. He suffered through the decline of the city (unforeseen in this poem), and died in 1846, before he could immigrate to Utah.

 

Prosperity of Zion

by G. Hills

Arise thou, and shine! for thy light is appearing,

And glory and beauty thy temples adorn;

Lo! darkness and gloom on the nations are brooding,

While brightly to thee breaks the radiant morn.

The beams of thy glory the saints are reflecting,

And scattering wide the refulgence so bright;

While princes and sages the dawn are expecting,

When Gentiles and Jews shall rejoice in the light.

Lo! now in glad troops see them hast’ning to Zion,

The sons and the daughters of faith, love and joy;

Their trumpets are sounding, their banners are flying;

In songs of redemption their tongues they employ.

The camels of Midian, in multitudes, bending

With frankincense, myrrh, and with offerings of gold;

The flocks too of Kedar, with shepherds attending,

Shall lay on thy altars their treasures untold.

Behold, what are these, like a cloud on the ocean?

Like doves to their windows, that fly thro’ the air?

Ah! these are the ships from the Isles; for devotion

They bring with their treasures, thy sons from afar.

The sons of the strangers shall rear thy munitions,

And Kings shall thy walls and thy temples adorn;

Thy gates shall be crowded with hastening millions,

That bear to thy treasuries oil, wine and corn.

The glory of Lebanon, dressed in full verdure,

The fir-tree, the pine-tree, the box-tree, shall rear

Their evergreen beauty; and, odor and splendor,

The place of thy dwelling abundantly cheer.

The sons of thy captors shall come to thee bending,

And all that despised thee shall bow to thee low;

Acknowledge thy excellence, greatly commending

The Zion, the dwelling of Jesus below.

The love and the presence of Jesus, thy Savior.

Redeemer, and King, who is mighty to save,

Thou fully shalt know, and experience his favor,

Rejoice in his smiles, now set free from the grave.

Thy wood and thy stone, changed to brass shall abound,

Thy iron to silver, thy brass to gold;

Thy rulers and judges shall spread peace around.

Thy officers true, shall the righteous uphold.

No more in thy borders, the voice of contention,

Of discord, or wailing, or sorrow, they raise;

But high from thy walls sounds the trump of salvation,

And songs, in thy gates, of devotion and praise.

The days of thy mourning forever are ended,

The sun and the moon shall no more be thy light;

But beauty and glory are over thee blended,

Shed forth by Jehovah in majesty bright.

Thus Zion! the saints, after holiness parting,

Inherit for ever and ever thy lands;

A branch of renown, of Jehovah’s own planting,

Messiah’s own people the work of his hands.

1840

 

Prophets and Apostles testify of Jesus Christ.

If the structure is held together by “confidence, faith, and prayer,” these are fed by what the leadership of the structure does for them. This makes testifying of Jesus Christ a key element of maintaining the structure of the Church.

Most members today are unaware of how popular Orson Pratt was. The younger brother of Parley P. Pratt (who is better known today), Orson was the president of the British Mission during the late 1840s and early 1850s and wrote a series of missionary tracts that were widely used. Since most of those who joined the church as a result of his tracts eventually immigrated to Utah, he was an important to many members. The following poem was dedicated to Pratt by Henry W. Naisbitt (also author of a poem above), one of the English converts.

 

A Consecrated Life

by Henry W. Naisbitt

ADDRESSED TO APOSTLE ORSON PRATT, ON ATTAINING HIS SEVENTIETH YEAR

There are thoughts the heart doth cherish, thoughts that never, never perish,

They are those that backward reach to a life enjoyed before;

Ere we came to taste of sorrow, or to hope the coming morrow

Would be beautiful and better, as its morning we implore.

 

Yes, our infant life in glory, had its thrilling, stirring story,

Could we read it as ’tis written in the records kept on high;

Days of joy as yet unutlered, though its alphabet is muttered,

In the primaries of earth-life, when unclouded is the sky!

 

Know we ought of Father, Mother; think we e’er of Sister, Brother?

Yet we had these in our first home, as we have them here to-day,

There we had our friends to greet us, they too had their times to meet us,

In the social circles moving, in the good times far away!

 

There were those amid the splendor of that home who failed to render

‘That devotion to the rule of right which knowledge would imply;

There were those whose rapt existence best curtailed the mighty distance,

Between spirits undeveloped, and “the Majesty on High.”

 

These were true and faithful ever, yet their agency was never

Crowded to a wished perfection in the realms of life above;

They were valiant once 1n contest, true when haughty rebels pressed

Their tempting claims on that vast host of spirits, aiding thus to provel

 

‘Twas because these stood the trial there will ne’er be found denial

Of their valor, or their title to the blessings held in store;

“They shall rule in my dominions, on ever soaring pinions,

Higher, wider shall their range be, through the future, evermore”

 

“They shall bear in dispensations, unto earth and all its nations.

Words of peace and life eternal to my children in the flesh;”

“There reveal those truths which ever, bind as one that naught can sever,

Those who in each probation shall due obedience learn afresh!”

 

This the oath, the promise spoken; and the word of God unbroken,

Will endure although the heavens as a scroll may pass away;

In the archives grand, eternal, in the libraries supernal,

In “the books” ’tis surely written, amid the blaze of heaven’s dayl

 

Oh! in looking down the ages, what a line of Prophets, Sages,

Since our Father Adam stood at first, in Paradise—a Man;

Illustrious, God-appointed, by His spirit moved, anointed,

To expound, enforce, and work upon true redemption’s sacred plan!

 

There were Seth and Enoch, Moses, Abraham, David; who supposes

That the names of all are blazoned in the records we have now?

That grand Isaiah and fellow Seers, whom sacred history reveres,

Were all who in the ages labored, or prophetic seed did sow!

 

Names but lost to view (just hidden), names the future will unbidden

Unveil from records hoarded, mighty deeds, their words of fire;

The world shall know their graphic story, their life, their death and glory,

And all their faith, example, triumph, shall God’s Israel yet inspire!

• • • • • •

What a wondrous revelation, the meridian dispensation,

Did to many a skeptic’s faithless heart in Palestine display,

When the Savior taught with power, and with miracle did dower,

The truth, in simple earnest lesson, as He taught men by the way.

 

By learned Scribe and Pharisee, He was jostled, forced to flee,

Persecution was upon Him, and it fell upon His friends,

Priests left no likely stone unturned, no coward lie by them was spurned

‘Till Calvary’s cross filled up their damned and deep designing ends!

 

The humble, mighty men He left, endured and were of all bereft,

Apostles were the shining mark, objects of intense hate,

They passed from dungeon, and through fire, to the glory which is higher

Life exultant, through heaven’s widely open gold and pearly gale!

 

So in this greatest latter time, in this most highly favored clime,

In this anciently appointed home of liberty—the best;

The precious truths of old renewed, sees wicked men with hands imbrued

In blood which, unatoned, in Carthage stains the mighty, mighty West!

 

There the Prophet God most surely sent, the leader, He in mercy lent,

Was sore smitten as the Prophets were, in ages long ago!

His warning words will stand for e’er, and his true calling shall declare,

From all the tropic’s heat and verdure, past the line of polar snow!

 

Nor will His work attract decay, ’twill greater grow from day to day,

It shall sweep around the earth, and “from the rivers to the sea,”

Its success is God decreed, from every martyr’s blood the seed

Shall fertilize uncounted hearts of men who are, and yet shall be!

 

Those brave ones whom His work inspired, those men whose inmost hearts were Bred

With love, the spirit of the Gospel, permeated by its light,

Who bravely patient stood the test, and clung the more with honest zest,

To full conversion of the heart and life, by knowledge of the right;

 

By all the world may be despised, by their disciples much are prized,

For their labor mid ‘the nations in the ever, ever past;

For the welcome truths they brought, that came as gold which long was sought.

Then queried simply as a dream, too good, and far too bright to last!

 

‘Twas far away on Europe’s shore, where dashing breakers ever roar,

Round that island, set an emerald amid the surging sea,

Was heard a strangely moving voice, which made the very heart rejoice.

As if ’twere memory’s repetition of words once heard before!

 

A faithful man, devoted, true, pressed home the message, old yet new.

Declaring, unappalled by fear, all the counsel of his God.

And whether men approved or no, the Gospel trump did loudly blow.

Sure ’twas no uncertain sound from him was heard on England’s sod.

 

The flying years have sped since then, yet well the heart remembers when

And where the message sweetly came, and it first on earth was heard,

O! memory gladly garners now, both feeling then, and solemn vow,

The good thoughts that enraptured, and the startled bosom stirred!

 

Increasing age creeps on apace, and the champion of the race,

The mighty man, as a Priest ordained, a missionary then,

Adown life’s rugged sunset slopes, still bears his early prist1ne hopes,

Unshrinking yet doth testify, with voice inspired, and ready pen!

 

Our deep and earnest thoughts we give, that he our teacher long may live.

Though all of threescore years and ten so swift have passed away;

O! if ’tis now Thy blessed will, Thine aged servant give us still,

To point ‘mid superstition’s darkness oft the path to endless day!

 

“Whene’er this mortal life shall fail, may pure devotion’s incense trail.

And all about his pathway gather for the good that he has done;”

“Until in realms immortal, he shall enjoy the well earned total

Of the blessings promised to him, ‘neath thine heaven’s unclouded sun I”

 

“Yet, if thou hast willed removal, we would how in sad approval,

For our vision hath its limits, so we know not what is best;

Thou dwellest in the undimned light, hence all thy ways are just and right;

We walk by faith and not by sight ‘mid earth’s implied unrest!”

 

“Let Israel’s hearty voice be heard, fervent prayers in ringing word,

Incline thine august ear to attend their cries, in numbers vast;”

“Bless thou each tried and faithful one, forget, we pray our Father, none,

And hid each future rolling year in good outstrip the treasured past !”

 

Reordained for Priesthood’s order, and enrolled by the recorder;

Set among His favored chosen ones, ’cause of worthiness above,

In the past as nobles counted, they had trials well surmounted,

‘Twas the impulse of their spirit, and their duty was of love!

 

Thus they came to earth selected, not because themselves elected,

That as messengers of Jesus they in latter times should tell,

The full purpose of the Father, and that His designs were rather

That his children should obedient be and ever with Him dwell!

 

They have bravely filled their mission, and a few have had permission

To return to Father’s presence in His mansions of the sky,

And a few are yet remaining, without murmur, uncomplaining,

Waiting for the welcome summons which is coming “by and bye!”

 

Then what shouts of welcome greeting will be heard at that glad meeting,

As they clasp their old companions ‘mid the temples built of old,

Where the spires of glory glisten, as the Saints forget to listen,

For they join the anthems pealing through the arches made of gold!

 

“‘Mid the Prophets, Seers and Martyrs may we drink the living waters

Flowing from the throne eternal as a limpid living stream;

O! a corner e’er so humble, when old earth begins to crumble

Would repay for any sacrifice, and this “life’s fitful dream!”

 

There all the faithful shall have peace, there enjoy that full increase,

Which springs from both probations filled, with honor well approved;

The angels shall in bliss look on, for exaltation fairly won,

And sweep their harps in joyous strains of music which hath ever moved !

 

As Kings and Priests to God at last, and blessed with an experience vast,

They’ll climb that lofty station, which is rule and power divine;

And not as sons of God, alone—they in their own right have a throne.

As Gods in light and majesty eternally to shine!

 

 

The Lord accomplishes His work through councils.

In recent years the Church has emphasized councils in the structure of how the Church is run. Another interlocking structure, councils provide additional connections encouraging consensus.

The following poem sees some councils, including the high council — by which perhaps she means the Council of the Twelve (a common name at the time for the Quorum of the Twelve). While quorums are councils, they are certainly not the only councils in the church. Poet Emily Hill was another of the English saints, and wrote this poem while she was still in England and perhaps not familiar with some church terminology. She later immigrated to Utah and there married first fellow English poet William G. Mills, and after he left her, Joseph Woodmansee. She is the author of the hymn “As Sisters in Zion” and is one of our best-known poets.

 

My Home is in Zion

by Emily Hill

My home is in Zion––away in the West!

Appointed by God as a refuge and rest,

As a “sure covert place” for His people to flee,

Secure from the plagues, which the nations will see.

My home is in Zion, where plenty and peace,

With the faith of the Saints, will most surely increase;

Where the cattle, the olive, the fig-tree, and vine,

Will yield for our comfort milk, honey, and wine.

My home is in Zion, where all can be free,

Where the Saints of Jehovah united can be,

Where liberty, equity, justice, and right,

O’ershadow the people by morning and night.

My home is in Zion, where deep we can dive

In the well springs of knowledge, till all shall arrive,

Through the Priesthood, whence light and intelligence flow,

To the highest attainable standard below.

My home is in Zion, where union is sees,

Where the Saints unmolested together convene,

To learn of the future, the present, and past,

And on the pure love of Jehovah repast!

My home is in Zion, where, safe ‘neath His smile,

We’ll care not for those who our conduct revile,

Who look on God’s people, with aspect demure,

But break His commandments so holy and pure.

My home is in Zion, with those in the West

Who are ready and willing to stand any test,

Whenever brought forward their merit to try,

And who ready conform, with no wherefore or why.

My home is in Zion, where Brigham, our guide,

And his Counsellors, Heber and Willard, reside;

Where the High Council meet to dispense, for our weal,

The laws which Jehovah sees fit to reveal.

My home is in Zion! And no pen can paint

The bliss there awaiting each true-hearted Saint!

The blessings for all who those laws will receive,

No tongue can describe, and no heart can conceive.

My home is in Zion, where fulness of joy

The just shall experience, with naught of alloy!

For peace, love, and virtue, in Zion are found,

Creating a heaven of happiness round.

My home is in Zion, oh I let me depart,

To gather to Zion––desire of my heart!

Oh, gladly I’d rise up, and earnestly seek

My home in the West, with the pure and the meek.

My home is in Zion––there, there let me haste,

While scourges and judgments proud Bab’lon shall waste!

“To dwell with the Saints, ‘mid the mountains secure,”

In the home of the faithful, the noble, and pure.

1853

 

 

[1] The BYU organization behavior professor Bonner Ritchie taught that ALL organizations harm people—because the purpose of an organization is a joint purpose, in the process of working towards its purpose all organizations ignore and frustrate individual needs, too often in harmful ways. See Ritchie’s article “The Institutional Church and the Individual”, in Sunstone, May 1981, https://sunstone.org/wp-content/uploads/sbi/articles/115-6-98-112.pdf