The LDS focus on the family is one of our best-known doctrines—an idea largely based on our belief that we are children of heavenly parents. As a result of these beliefs, we consistently worry about how well we are doing as parents, and about the strength of our family relationships. I often wonder if we wouldn’t do better to stop worrying and simply try our best to love each other. How to do that requires a constant effort.

Regardless, our attention to issues of family life and how to strengthen families is pretty universal, although our approach is admittedly controversial to many. But if we focus on the basic principles—our relationship to Heavenly Parents, love, faith, putting effort as well as love into how we raise children, etc.—I think we can find important ideas in LDS doctrines that can be applied to our families, regardless of how they are structured and constructed. After all, Love is Love is Love…

 

“The family is central to the Creator’s plan.”

I must admit that I’m not sure how the centrality of the family to the plan could not be so. Perhaps the individual is more important, but individuals still must be raised by someone, and the relationships that the person being raised has with those who raise him are central to the individual’s formation. If we are supposed to become God-like, then aren’t family relationships; i.e., the relationships with those who raise us, or those who we raise, crucial to our development?

The life changes of family members and friends are frequent subjects of early LDS poetry, and thought. A good example is the following poem by Thomas Ward, an early British convert and mission president. In the effort to help friends and family think about John Kendal’s untimely death, Ward expounds LDS thought about the family and our relationships in the hereafter.

 

Lines on the Death of Brother John Kendal

by Thomas Ward

On the Death of Brother John Kendal, of Liverpool, who was killed by falling from a scaffold.

In his grave they have laid him, he slumbers in peace,

While his spirit in Paradise sweetly shall rest,

Till the hour when the angel shall sound his release,

In the first resurrection with Christ to be blest.

O! then weep not, dear sister, more blessed is he,

Thy partner in life, though he lie with the dead;

And the band of affection that bound him to thee,

Is not severed because that his spirit hath fled.

Yet a short time shall pass, when, lo! gathered in one,

All the saints of the Lord both in heav’n and earth,

With thee and thy young ones, and partner that’s gone,

May rejoice in the hour of a glorious birth.

O! then let us be glad in the light that has come,

E’en the gospel’s bright fulness, its priesthood of power;

While we look for a city—a glorious home,

And to meet all the sanctified dead in that hour.

Then, O, Father above, let thy blessing descend.

Let thy spirit its sweet consolation impart

To the widow, the mother, the sister and friend,

Let the joys of salvation enliven her heart,

Let her vision be clear of that glorious day,

When thy Son shall descend with his angels of might,

When sorrow and pain, and all tears pass away,

And truth stands revealed in heaven’s own light.

1842

 

“Each [person] is a beloved son or daughter of heavenly parents.”

Our LDS thought about heavenly parents often recalls Eliza R. Snow’s poem ‘Invocation’, known to us today as “O, My Father.” That poem portrays our relationship with God as a very personal relationship, like that of a loved child with a beloved parent. Our reactions to the hymn help us recognize and feel that relationship even today.

Other poets have drawn on this feeling, including (most likely) William Chase Harrison, who changed the focus of the poem from Heavenly Father to Heavenly Mother, drawing significantly from Snow’s words and thoughts and following the same poetic form, so that his poem can also be set to the same music. Harrison’s poem was frequently reprinted over the next four decades, almost always attributed to someone else (as Ardis Parshall detailed 15 years ago).

 

Companion Poem to Eliza R. Snow’s ‘Invocation.’

By William Chase Harrison

O My Mother, thou that dwellest,

In thy mansions up on high,

Oft methinks I still remember

When you bade your child good bye.

How you clasped me to your bosom,

Bade me a true son to be,

Ere I left my Father’s mansion,

To dwell in mortality.

How you gave me words of counsel,

To guide aright my straying feet;

How you taught by true example

All of Father’s laws to keep.

While I strive in this probation,

How to learn the gospel truth,

May I merit your approval

As I did in early youth.

‘Tis recorded in your journal

How you stood by Father’s side,

When by powers that are eternal

Thou wast sealed his goddess bride;

How by love and truth and virtue

E’en in time thou did’st become

Through your high, exalted station

Mother of the souls of men.

When of evil I’ve repented,

And my work on earth is done,

Kindest Father, loving mother,

Pray forgive your erring son.

When my pilgrimage is ended,

And the victor’s wreath I’ve won,

Dearest Mother, to your bosom,

Will you welcome home your son?

1892

 

“Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

One difficulty sometimes seen in our teachings about the plan of salvation and becoming like our Heavenly Parents is a question about what the purpose of life is. Is our purpose to become like our Heavenly Parents, or is it to be happy? Are these actually the same thing? Or are they even in conflict?

While I don’t think any LDS poetry actually addresses these questions, there does seem to be an assumption that they are the same thing. An example is the following poem by the Bard of Springville, William Clegg. An English convert who immigrated to Utah in 1863, Clegg is best known as the author of the lyrics of hymn #53, “Let Earth’s Inhabitants Rejoice.” His volume of poetry, A Galaxy of Gems, was published in 1900.

 

The Search for Happiness

by William Clegg

Ye countless hosts who throng life’s busy stage,

From early years to careworn hoary age,

In eager search for some Elysium bright,

Whose joys prospective charm your mental sight,

Some antidote for pain and sorrow’s throes,

Some healing balm, some cure for human woes,

Some beacon light to guard from evil’s way,

Some star to lead to an eternal day.

From regal thrones where tinsell’d honours hang

To haunts where reigns chill penury’s sharp pang,

Where unassuming myriads toil and pine,

And worth lies slaughter’d at ambition’s shrine;

Through every grade and clime, in every age,

One object still your fervent thoughts engage.

True Happiness, by each and all confess’d,

Your hope-your aim to be supremely blessed;

Your strong desire to know the joys above,

Where all is peace and harmony and love.

Yet, Ah! How devious the paths ye tread,

Each by some ruling spirit onward led,

“Mid doubts and sorrows falt’ring, on ye go,

For ever strange to joys ye fain would know.

List, erring mortals, hear instruction’s voice,

And make the wisdom from above your choice.

Seek not the day where reigns Egyptian night,

Nor yet in perfect weakness seek for might:

Seek not for order where confusion reigns,

Nor confidence where but distrust obtains :

Seek not for life, and harmony, and peace,

Where woe and death’s dread elements increase;

Hear the Great Teacher and his sayings keep,

That which ye sow, that shall ye also reap!

Stand in your ways and seek the good old paths,

Where virtue’s heroes won unfading wreaths;

Give ear: For joyous news to human-kind

Is spread abroad, and all who seek may find;

A Prophet’s voice is heard through every land,

And all the way of life may understand;

The sombre shades of Error’s deepest night,

Are fleeting fast before celestial light:

O hear ye all the Gospel’s joyful sound,

In it a cure for all your ills are found!

Seek then above for truth and wisdom pure,

Yea, ask of God, and light from Heav’n secure.

The Priesthood’s power to Earth is come again,

To lead, instruct, and make salvation plain,

To teach, to comfort, and dismiss your fears,

To cheer and bless you in this vale of tears;

To show how unity and Truth shall spread,

Till Earth’s redeem’d, and every sorrow ded:

Till all is pure and holy once again,

And angels mingle with the sons of men:

Till all shall know and do our Father’s will,

And endless joys shall every bosom fill;

Then the Redeemed shall shout with one accord,

Glory and Praise to our Almighty Lord!

And like the voice of many waters sing,

Honour and might to Heaven’s Eternal King!

1857

 

“We call upon responsible citizens … to maintain and strengthen the family.”

I wish I knew what it meant exactly to be a “responsible citizen.” I have ideas, but they are tempered by the fact that any attempt to restrict “citizens” to a subset can be co-opted to limit the voice of those who don’t share a particular point-of-view. Nevertheless, all citizens should be concerned with maintaining and strengthening the family, regardless of how the family is defined.

Early British convert and author of the first volume of LDS poetry published outside of the United States, John Jaques, suggests a kind of definition for who deserves our help and support (admittedly more than just the nuclear family), based on the definition of pure religion found in the book of James. He suggests that we should be helping the fatherless, the orphan, the poor, and the homeless—those who need help. If we follow our doctrine, these are our family, other children of our Heavenly Parents. Maybe that should be what we mean when we are trying “to maintain and strengthening the family.”

 

Pure Religion

by John Jaques

Hail! lovely “Pure Religion,”

Fair Child of Heaven, immortal boon to Earth,

Choice gift of gracious Providence! Thy law’s

The law of meekness: ‘t is the law of God!-—

It speaks with universal eloquence

To Hindoo, Christian, Infidel, or Saint.

And the world’s clashing cannot still its tones,

So fraught with kindly and considerate grace.

They penetrate the deep recesses of

The heart, and move the iron-bound inner man.

Let the still small voice of “Pure Religion”

Pierce the savage breast all ruffled to its

Wildest mood;-—the storm of passion’s hushed,—-the

Rude spirit bows in low humility

To the magic charm of Godlike meekness.

Go tell the lordly rulers of the earth,—

The long-faced saint, and college-bred divine,—

That “Pure Religion’s” bright celestial crown

Is won by deeds of lore and sympathy;—

By searching out the lonely widow’s cot,

And ministering the bread of consolation

To her cadaverous, haggard, worn-out frame.

Declare that “Pure Religion,” undefiled

Before the Eternal God our Father, is to

Visit the fatherless in affliction,

And cheer the orphan with paternal care;—

To mingle ‘mongst the poor and destitute;—

To clothe the naked, feed the hungry soul,

And take the homeless friendless stranger in;—

To soothe their sorrows and relieve their wants.

Do this in faith unostentatiously,

And Jesus, at the day of great account,

Before assembled worlds will approbate,

With smiling countenance, such acts of true

Benevolence, as to Himself performed.

1851