It’s hard to argue with the phrase “all things must be done in order.” For most rational people, doing things in order is important. But, what exactly do we mean by ‘order’? Whose order? Does the order need to be torn up sometimes?

Order suggests the arrangements and procedures that support society and our institutions. In a church, where these structures are believed to have been established by God, doing things in order is in a sense following the commandments. And in a church that purports to be a restoration of the church established by Christ, we assume that the restored elements are sacrosanct.

However, that doesn’t mean that some of the structures can’t change. In fact, structures change in many different ways, and for many different reasons. God can and has changed the order of things to meet the needs of His children—as he has with the Sacrament, with the Priesthood, with our leadership and with our perception of the Lamanites—all elements mentioned in this lesson. And the need for such changes is core to our beliefs; its why the Church needs continuing revelation—to make the changes God wants in His church.

The poems below all express a view of the order in God’s church, and many of them show elements that have changed since they were written. Despite those changes, we still have order in the church, just a slightly different order than we had before. Vive la changement pour Dieu!

 

I take the sacrament in remembrance of Jesus Christ.

The form of the sacrament is one of the changes specified in this lesson, in section 27. Joseph Smith’s revelation tells us to use water instead of wine for the sacrament, something that has no support in the Bible, but has provided us benefits today. The change seems to balance symbolic needs (since water doesn’t look like blood, but wine does), with our current understanding of the dangers of alcohol and need to be distinct from others. Of course, your understanding of the reasons may differ.

The author of this poem, Theodore Curtis, was one of the most prolific LDS poets of the turn of the century. Curtis’s work peppered LDS periodicals and four of his hymns are in the current hymnal.

 

The Sacrament

by Theo. E. Curtis

With Adam and the first great sin,

Eternal Death was ushered in;

And fell its stern and fatal ban

O’er all the race of fallen man.

There was no power in man to save

The groping nations from the grave,

Till a redeeming arm of love

Was given from the courts above.

He came, the mighty Prince of Peace,

To cope with Death for our release;

He died, and in the grave alone,

He conquered Death upon his throne.

So, when we meet to take afresh

The emblems of his broken flesh,

Remember, by his sacrifice,

Of all that live Death only dies.

1910

 

The Lord gives His servants priesthood keys to direct His work.

We now see priesthood keys as “the power given to man by God to direct, control, and govern God’s priesthood on earth.” [Guide to the Scriptures] But in this poem the keys are something different—a means for discovering truth. I don’t think we disagree today, since revelation is still a key element of priesthood, but I don’t think we emphasize it the same way as Naisbitt does here. He closely aligns the discovery of knowledge to both science and the priesthood, on the occasion of the Great Comet of 1882.

The comet reached its brightest in mid September, when it was near the sun and could easily be seen by the naked eye. According to Wikipedia, it is still thought by many to have been the brightest comet ever known. Since its period is at least 670 years long (and since it’s apparently split up into 5 parts during the 1882 pass by the sun), no one now living will see it.

Another of the turn of the 20th century LDS poets, Naisbitt was very active and progressive. Like Curtis, his poetry appeared often in LDS periodicals. He also collected poetry by early women poets in Utah, but unfortunately never published his collection.

 

To The Comet

by Henry W. Naisbitt

Thou glorious visitant

From silent untold depths of wondrous space,

We hail thy presence now within the reach

Of mortal ken; and busy fancy touched

With airy flight, seeks to know thy purport,

Now thy brilliant streamer spans the crowning

Arch of ebon night!

The Book of Life in early page hath writ,

How men invoked the Gods at thy approach,

Or such as thou! How ’round the altar fires

Of temples sacrificial rite they sought

To evade, or find escape from presaged doom!

Did they not madly dream that in your train,

Was shadowed all calamity and death?

And was not this by priestly artifice sustained

To rivet chains by superstition forged?

No phantoms such as these our couch disturbs

In latter time, yet feel we not the kindling

Of those fires lit by the Highest in each

Human breast, to comprehend the sun;

To know and understand, with mental grasp

The Universe to hold, to wrest from Truth’s

Great storehouse, treasure gold can never buy?

It may be that thou art a world

On which the foot of man hath trod, with hopes

And fears, with joy and grief as we now feel!

It may be that the smouldering fires within

Thy frame have burst to purge from sin, or sweep

A doomed race to endless night!

It may be that the framing hand of dread

Almighty power prepared thy face and sphere

For scenes of trial, exaltation too,

To run for immortality thy race!

Or yet again, thy mission may now be

To purify the universal fields

Of space; or messenger from systems wide

Apart, as the eternal poles!

No more we question, but content we rest

In thy majestic sweep to see the finger

Of the Architect who guides not only

Suns, and systems vast as ocean’s sands,

But sends His ministers of flame who may

The “Times and Seasons” indicate, and point

The periods of celestial reckoning

To best intelligence of lower orbs;

Yet this, the same creative hand and skill

Which stoops to paint the flowers in every

Sunlit vale of earth, and on each mountain’s

Crown and slope doth scatter beauty with most

Lavish hand, on this our present (and may be) our grand Eternal Home.

We bow the knee and grateful feel

For keys conferred, with power (in season)

To unlock, each mystery to explore,

The tangled skein of circumstance to scan,

And then unravel too, with every

Problem that hath stirred the depths of noble

Minds for ages in the dark and misty past;

The Priesthood we sustain

Here is light and truth, here hope and confidence

Is ours, though clogged with flesh and subject to

The fall, its power will still extend by Truth.

Its sceptre yet shall be o’er earth and things,

As in the heavens, dominion, rule and sway,

To save, to bless, and man by man exalt

In time, and though the ages, as the Gods

Now stand, for evermore!

1883

 

The armor of God helps me stand against evil.

As a biblical metaphor the armor of God can refer to many different things, including anything that might help us weather the attacks of evil. Spiritual Gifts and the Power of the Priesthood are clearly part of how we can protect ourselves from evil.

This poet, Gerald W. Dale, was an English convert who immigrated to the US in 1916. This poem was published in the Improvement Era in 1941. Dale eventually moved to California, where he passed away in 1997.

 

Awake! Ye Royal Sons

by Gerald W. Dale

A wake! ye royal sons of God,

Clothed with the Priesthood’s power.

Arise and grasp the iron rod

In this millennial hour.

Shake off the guilty fears of life;

Like men shun not the fight;

Be heroes in the battle’s strife;

Be led by Heaven’s light.

Thy Priesthood shall thy mantle be,

A shield against the foe;

God’s spirit shall o’ershadow thee

Wherever thou shalt go.

Pray oft in secret to thy God

To keep thee clean and pure;

In the Priesthood’s armor shod,

Thy path to God is sure.

Let virtue garnish then thy thought

Thy confidence to strengthen.

And when life’s battles you have fought,

The Lord thy days will lengthen.

Seek not the treasures of the earth—

In Heaven thy treasures lie;

Seek jewels of eternal worth;

Work while ’tis yet today.

Be kind; be right; be loyal, true;

Be Christlike in life’s span.

Make covenant with God anew—

Be Godlike. Be a man!

1941

 

Jesus Christ directs His Church through His living prophet.

The story of Hiram Page purportedly receiving revelation for the Church, as described in section 28, is an example of how the understanding of the role of the Prophet had to change to match what the Lord wanted. I suspect our understanding of what a Prophet is has developed significantly since then.

This poem, by the wonderful poet Mabel Jones Gabbott, is one of my favorites. While President Heber J. Grant, as she describes, is already frail, he still lived another four years. But Gabbott contrasts his fragility with the power of his testimony, giving a very modern view of what a Prophet is.

Gabbott was the author of the frequently-sung hymn“In Humility, Our Savior”, and worked as an editor at both the Relief Society Magazine and the Improvement Era.  She passed away in 2004.

 

The Prophet Speaks

by Mabel Jones Gabbott

So tall he stood there, noble, fine and proud,

Sustained by power greater than his own.

He said, “I shall not talk so very loud,”

But in his eyes a glorious message shone.

He read the excerpts that he had prepared

And then forgetting self and doctors too,

He poured his heart out to the Saints and shared

With us, his testimony stro0ng and true.

His words came freely, ringing rich and clear:

“God lives, have faith in Him, and keep His word.”

It seemed to me the Lord was very near

And prompting him to say the things we heard.

The Prophet spoke today, so kind, so dear,

And my heart prayed, “Bless President Grant, dear Lord.”

1941

 

Why was a mission to the Lamanites significant?

Another area where our understanding of the gospel has changed, and seems to continue changing, is our view of the Lamanites. Perhaps there are some revelations that are more important for us to discover over time than to have revealed to us in a single document. There are several areas where the older views can seem a bit uncomfortable.

This is one of a number of poems that are like that. The poem does see the Lamanites as part of the Book of Mormon story, and recognizes their important role. But it also includes many of the views and tropes of the time; likely because that was the only information the poet had—in 1856 he was still living in England and probably had never even seen a Native American.

Charles W. Penrose, is one of our poet-Apostles. His poetry had already appeared frequently in LDS publications for nearly 50 years when he was called as an Apostle in 1904. By 1911 he was a member of the First Presidency, where he served until his death in 1925.

 

The Lamanites

by Charles W. Penrose

Ye Indian tribes, who roam in savage bands

From north to south, in yonder western lands,

With fiery, flashing eye and stately tread,

With tawny skin and proudly lifted head;

Whose horrid yell affrights the shivering air,

And drives the timid settler to despair,

Why do ye restless wander thus abroad?

Why burns this warlike frenzy in your blood?

Why is your darkened skin of this red hue?

What is your origin, from whence are you?

Eternal Spirit! that unfolds the past,

And shows the future, yea from first to last,

Inspire my soul while I shall briefly trace

The past and future of this roving race!

Six hundred years before our Saviour’s birth,

Dwelt Lehi in that favoured spot of earth-

Jerusalem. He was a man of truth

Who practised righteousness from early youth;

Of Israel’s blood, of Joseph’s royal line,

His virtuous soul, cast in a mould divine.

When in that City sin had reached its height,

By the command of God he took his flight

With wife and children, to the desert sands,

Where others joined him, from his native lands.

Directed by a heaven-invented guide,

They journeyed onward to the ocean tide;

A ship they built, and, guided still by God,

Embark’d and travell’d o’er the boist’rous flood,

Though tempests rag’d and storms their fury spent,

They reach’d, at length, the Western Continent.

Here the tall mountains pierc’d the sunny sky,

The grassy vales enchanted ev’ry eye,

The broad expansive lakes serenely lay,

And mighty rivers foaming, dash’d away.

The balmy air sang through the lovely trees,

Gay feathered nations sported in the breeze,

Rich tinted flowers spread their fragrance round,

And useful ores enrich’d the verdant ground.

Here settled Lehi with his little band,

Blest and supported by Jehovah’s hand,

‘Till cursed feuds made them no longer one,

For Laman, faithful Lehi’s eldest son,

Hated his brother Nephi, whom the Lord

Had called to minister His sacred word.

Like Lucifer, he sow’d the seeds of strife,

Deep root they took, and budded into life;

Good Nephi did, with heavenly zeal, engage

To calm the fury of his brother’s rage;

But all his God-like efforts were in vain,

The thriving colony was rent in twain.

The righteous follow’d Nephi as their head,

By Laman, the rebellious clan was led.

The Nephites kept the statutes of the Lord,

They taught their children to revere His word,

They wond’rously increased and multiplied,

Their wants were by their industry supplied;

Their offspring were endowed with virtues rare,

Their sons were brave, their daughters pure and fair;

Cities and towns they built on ev’ry hand,

And spread themselves abroad throughout the land.

Meanwhile the Lamanites wax’d fierce and strong,

They taught their children to avenge the wrong

They thought that Nephi, aided by his friends,

Had done the Lamanites, for selfish ends.

They liv’d by hunting, robbery, and strife,

They scorn’d the doctrines of eternal life;

God curs’d their children with a dark, red skin,

Dark was their fate, for darkness reign’d within.

Succeeding generations roll’d away,

And still the Lamanites in darkness lay,

And when the Nephites mingled with their seed,

God cursed their offspring as He had decreed.

But who can paint the scenes that were pourtray’d

In lines of blood, when sinning Nephites stray’d!

When the fierce archer bent the clanging bow,

And angry warriors laid their thousands low;

When grinning Death his horrid scythe whirl’d round,

And blood of kindred soak’d the thirsty ground;

When Mis’ry, brooding like a bird of prey,

Saw Joy and Pleasure swiftly flee away.

Prophets and holy men proclaim’d aloud

The awful judgments coming on the proud,

In plainness pointed out salvation’s road,

Foretold the coming of the Son of God.

In persecution firm to truth they stood,

And “seal’d their testimony with their blood.”

Their words of life were by the faithful kept,

And liv’d, while in the grave the speakers slept.

Their erring nation’s history they told,

In ancient characters, on plates of gold.

These holy records, things of priceless worth,

By heav’n’s command, were hidden in the earth:

Till JOSEPH SMITH, in these eventful days,

Enlighten’d by the Holy Spirit’s rays,

And guided by an angel, rob’d in white,

Brought forth the slumb’ring treasures to the light.

The Tribes of Israel shall be blest by them,

By him translated, now a child may read

The ancient history of the mighty dead,

Their wars and tumults, travels, griefs, and fears,

Through the long period of a thousand years.

The words of Prophets, and the gifts of God

Bestow’d on those who virtue’s pathway trod.

How the Redeemer, when He’d conquer’d Death

And the dark monarch of the world beneath,

Came to the Nephites, show’d his hauds and feet

Where nails had pierced them, and in accents sweet

Taught them the Gospel-how he died and rose–

Healed their sick, and Twelve Apostles chose,

Left them rejoicing in his boundless grace,

An humble, penitent, obedient race.

How after generations proud became,

Forsook the truth for worldly wealth, and fame,

Rejected, wilfully, the Lord’s commands,

Once more divided into hostile bands;

Nephites and Lamanites with fury fought,

Till the fair Nephites dwindled into naught,

And the dark Lamanites, accursed, base,

Are now a wild and savage Indian race.

Yet they’re descended from the chosen seed,

And, to their fathers, God, in very deed,

Declar’d He’d gather them, in latter times,

Restore and purify them from their crimes.

Though now they wander restless and forlorn,

The Christian’s pity and the Gentile’s scorn,

The day is near when their dark minds shall see,

The Gospel light in all its brilliancy.

For Zion’s cause like lions they shall fight,

The Saints defend, their proud oppressors smite;

A “white, delightsome people” they shall be,

A fruitful branch of Israel’s olive tree.

The promises old father Jacob spake,

Shall be fulfill’d for holy Joseph’s sake;

The “mighty God of Jacob,” shall increase

Their strength and glory, numbers, wealth, and peace.

From heav’n above, and earth beneath, shall flow

The richest blessings they can have below;

The holy, royal Priesthood they shall wield,

Eternal pow’rs upon them shall be seal’d;

They’ll help to build the New Jerusalem.

And when proud Gentile nations cease to be,

And earth’s redeemed, and cloth’d in purity;

When harmless lions with the lambkins play,

And man shall cease his fellow man to slay;

When noxious weeds and deadly plants shall die,

And fragrant flowers shall captivate the eye;

When nature’s voice in peaceful tones shall speak,

Nor earthquakes yawn, nor jarring thunders break;

When the dead Saints to glorious life shall rise,

And loud hosannas charm the list’ning skies,

Then shall the now degraded Indian race,

Dwell with the great Redeemer, face to face,

With the redeemed shall swell the grateful song,

And ever reign with the immortal throng!

1856