The statement “all that the Lord has spoken we will do” seems kind of obvious in a sense. If God is saying to do it, how can we gainsay? But, of course, we don’t actually do that — we all fail to do the things we should do, the things that God has asked, and commanded, us to do. So what are we saying when we repeat this statement?

In one sense, it’s a kind of commitment or intention. We want to be able to do what the Lord asks of us, and we will try to do so, even covenant to do so, as an indication of what we want to do. We know (and He knows) that we won’t make it. But, given the atonement, our intention and sincere efforts are enough. He will make up the difference.

This idea appears later in the lesson, in the section about covenants, which indicate our willingness to obey God’s law. In this sense, the covenant is about our sincere intentions—and recognizes that without the atonement the only option is failure.

 

The Lord’s covenant people are a treasure to Him.

Traditional belief in God often says that humanity is nothing in comparison to His power and glory. But such a bleak understanding of life must lead to the question of why human beings were created at all? Our, LDS, thought raises humans to a level much closer to God, seeing Him as our Father and humanity as His principal concern. So naturally we are “a treasure to Him.”

In the following song, Emily Hill (later Woodmansee) is rapturous about being in Zion, where the people “Believe God is our friend” and know that “His people he’ll defend,” because they are a treasure to Him.

 

Rejoice ye gushing fountains!

Ye streams of pearly hue,

Ye tow’ring hills and mountains,

Ye lovely valleys too—

All nature, give fair greeting,

Rich melodies awake

And celebrate our meeting,

Our mutual joy partake!

Ye Saints! dispel all sadness

And high your voices raise

In songs of thrilling gladness,

In symphonies of praise;

Extol the king of glory

In strains of living fire,

Oh God we would adore thee,

Do thou our souls inspire.

One spot upon this planet

Is dedicate to thee,

And those who dwell upon it,

Thine, only thine will be

Tho’ this resolve hath ‘reft us

Of wealth and kindred too

Thy Spirit hath not left us

It loves the good and true.

Nor homes we’ve left behind us,

Nor friends in childhood dear,

Nor ties of blood could bind us—

Our sympathies are here;

Yes, here we’ve sisters, brothers,

Here we have husbands, wives,

Here we have fathers, mothers,

And keys of endless lives.

Here we have mighty princes

Of Israel’s royal line,

Whose judgment e’er evinces

Authority divine;

Here’s Brigham Young—the Lion

Who keeps the wolves at bay;

Through him God favors Zion

In this the latter day.

Oh ye who seek our ruin

Believe God is our friend—

All things belong unto him—

His people he’ll defend;

In peace we will assemble

To learn the ways of God,

While thrones and empires tremble

At His Almighty word.

Arise from error’s slumbers,

All ye whose aims are pure,

And swell our gathering numbers,

Make your salvation sure;

Haste! chant old Bab’lon’s requiem

And unto Zion flee,

For in the vales of Ephraim

Deliverance shall be.

Rejoice, oh favored nation!

Whom God hath gathered out;

Praise him for your salvation

With universal shout;

With songs of adoration,

With sweetest minstrelsy,

For Zion’s restoration.

For truth which makes us free.

1857

 

Sacred experiences require preparation.

Like the title of the whole lesson, this section’s title seems obvious to us today—something that we have been taught for decades in Church. Of course, we need to prepare so that we are ready when sacred experiences come, expected or not.

Perhaps the idea is so obvious that our poets haven’t explored it much—I had to work hard to find poetry that treated personal preparation for the sacred. This poem gets there, but not as clearly as I would like. Here, Quayle reacts to attending the groundbreaking for the London Temple, a place then made holy by the dedication, and hearing the Prophet (in this case David O. McKay) urge the members there to “Prepare — do not delay.”

 

Today I walked on Holy ground

Far from the restless throng,

Where nature in her glory raised

A glad, triumphal song,

A paean of joy and thankfulness

Which made my heart rejoice

And every bird took up the strain

“We heard a Prophet’s voice.”

Today I walked on Holy ground

Where stood our Prophet dear,

My spirit soared to heights unseen,

I felt God’s presence near;

Within this sacred Holy place

Methought I heard Him say

“My blessings on my people here –

Prepare – do not delay.”

Today I walked on Holy ground

Where soon God’s House will stand,

The symbol of our dearest hopes

In this our own dear land,

And humbly as I bowed my head

In reverence and praise –

I solemnly did promise God

To serve Him all my days.

1954

 

Obedience to God’s commandments brings blessings.

Personally, I prefer to think of this idea as ‘obedience brings the blessings you truly need,’ instead of a particular blessing. I think I’m often blind (perhaps willingly so) to what I actually need, so I’m not sure I always recognize the blessing that I get for my obedience as a blessing — at least not immediately.

I think the author of this poem, E. T. Woolley, agrees, since he reads the book of James as saying “you shall receive according to need.”

 

If you are honest and longing to see

The kingdom of God, and in it would be,

“Know of the doctrine”—the blessings obtain,—

Follow thou the teachings which the Bible makes plain.

CHORUS.

Sing ye His praises, Sing! Sing! Sing!

Sing of the mercy of Jesus our King,

Sing of His Gospel, restored to the earth,

Praise Him with the songs of everlasting mirth.

Ask ye for wisdom, as James has decreed,

And you shall receive according to need;

Then search the Scriptures, desiring the right,

Jesus then will lead you to the Gospel of light.

Plain it must be that John, Peter and Paul,

Taught the same way as the Savior of all;

That way is perfect-improved cannot be—

Christ Himself has shown us, and said, ” Come follow me.”

The plan is simple, believe on the Lord;

Repent of your sins, saith the holy word;

Immersed in the water-born of the flood—

Gaining then the spirit which will lead us to God.

Power to act in the name of the Son

Was given to man when His kingdom begun;

Duly commissioned His servants will be,

Teaching through obedience that “Salvation is free.”

1886

 

Making covenants shows my willingness to obey God’s law.

I think there’s a kind of paradox here. Covenants are supposed to be very serious commitments to keep commitments, but, again, we know that we won’t do so. And I think this commitment worries many people, who worry that they won’t be able to keep their commitments. I don’t think this is significantly different from the relationship of the atonement with the commandments—somehow we take the atonement as an aid to keeping the commandments, making up for when we fail, but also not encouraging us to ignore what we have been commanded to do.

Some of this difficulty is covered in the following poem by Mary A. Briggs Farnsworth, who wonders at the sacrifices required to obey the commandments and meet our covenants. She asks “is it now thy holy will / That I should bear another cross, / That daily grows more weighty still, / To cleanse life’s gold from dross?”

 

Old Earth is growing strangely still,

Its sweetest sounds are lost to me;

With tears of grief my sad eyes fill,

Dear Lord, why must it be?

Why must I yield the precious gift—

That priceless boon bestowed by thee?

With lashes wet this prayer I lift,

Dear Lord, why must it be?

 

While in my first primeval youth

With thee, in realms above the sky,

Did I stand valiant for the truth

Without a murmuring sigh?

Did I, life’s ills before my eyes,

Pertaining to this lower sphere,

A covenant make to sacrifice

What mortals hold most dear?

 

And is it now thy holy will

That I should bear another cross,

That daily grows more weighty still,

To cleanse life’s gold from dross?

Then help, oh help me by thy power

To bear with grace thy chastening rod;

To draw more near thee every hour,

My Father, and my God.

 

Until prepared for higher life

Beyond this veil of grief and tears,

Released from sorrow, pain and strife,

To dwell with thee a thousand years,

With former knowledge eye to eye—

As we are seen so we shall see;

No more with quivering lip to sigh,

Dear Lord, why must it be?

1899

 

Sin is turning away from God; repentance is turning toward Him and away from evil.

Understanding sin is difficult, because it is so often connected with shame and despair. I often hear it re-defined as “missing the mark” or “turning away” as a way of relieving the shame and seeming permanence of recognizing that we have done wrong. I think its more often helpful to move our focus from the sin to the subsequent repentance and change.

Turning back to the British LDS poet Emily Hill Woodmansee, her treatment of the story of the prodigal son in the following poem focuses on the repentance more than the sin.

 

Husks, only husks! Oh, for life-giving bread;

Can souls be sufficed if with husks they are fed ?

Than the brute, less support, may humanity need—

But the quality, surely, should differ indeed.

Must I fare as the swine, or from hunger expire?

Alas! ’tis a choice of extremity dire.

For the halls of my father I languish and pine,

The lot of his servants is better than mine;

They have plenty to eat, yea enough and to spare;

While I perish of hunger, of toil and of care.

But I will arise, to my father I’ll go;

I will fall at his feet, I will tell him my woe;

I will say I’m not worthy so noble a sire,

Make me one of thy servants, who labor for hire.

Ah! woe, to the son, should the father not care—

If in anger he turns, from the prodigal’s prayer.

But his father beholds him, towards him has flown—

His arms for protection around him has thrown;

“My father, no more am I worthy to be

Thy son, as a servant I’ll labor for thee.”

But the father has turned to his servants and said—

“In the very best robes, let my son be arrayed;

Put a ring on his hand, and put shoes on his feet;

The fatted calf kill, that my loved one may eat,

And let us be merry, for this, my lost son,

Is restored to my arms, yea, from death, he is won;

‘Tis meet that our welcome, and joy, be profound—

When the dead is restored and the lost one is found.

How many are lost in the darkness of night—

Because there are none, who will read them aright.

Grief, from Indifference, hideth her need;

Hearts torn with anguish, in silence oft bleed.

Too careless, the stranger, to fathom their woe;

And those who should help them, but strike them a blow.

The virtuous, even, are slow to discern

That well timed compassion, and counsel, may turn,

“To righteousness many,” that pity divine,

Will e’en make the giver in glory to shine.

By Propriety’s mill stones, the erring are crushed;

Too often by many who claim to be just;

Who care not the penitent’s sorrow to see;

Who heed not the publican’s pitiful plea.

To the orthodox only, the bigot, unbends;

Distinction must favor the haughty one’s friends;

The hypocrite’s policy, keeps him afar—

From sinners confessed, lest his name he should mar;

And only the Lord hears the cry of despair;

Only the Lord, heeds the prodigal’s prayer.

So the prodigal’s brother, in anger drew near,

And questioned the servants, almost with a sneer;

“Wherefore this feasting, this music and mirth;

Measured with mine, is this renegade’s worth?”

“Son! said the father, why should’st thou repine?

My substance, my all, is assuredly thine.

With me thou art ever, and what would’st thou more?

But my lost and my dead, has returned to my door;

Tis meet that the halls of his father resound—

With feasting and mirth, when the lost one is found.

Which of us ne’er has gone out of the way;

Which of us ne’er had occasion to say—

“My father, I’ve sinned, I am worthy no more.

Thy child to be called, turn me not from thy door?

As a servant, I fain would my faithfulness prove.

Wilt thou only vouchsafe me this proof of thy love?

That yet I may labor, that yet I may be—

Somewhere, or something, belonging to thee ?”

Love’s intuition doth make us to feel,

That love is convincing, and potent to heal.

Where’er love aboundeth, the will it is given—

To excuse and forgive, “even seventy times seven.”

Hear how Jehovah doth sinners invite—

“Though as scarlet your sins, they as wool shall be white;

Come; saith the Lord, let us reason together.

And I will forget your transgressions forever.”

Let us meet the repentant with welcome and cheer—

To encouarge their hopes and to banish their fear.

If we make not a feast let us give them a crust;

Nor drive them again unto hunger and husks.

Though justice is stern, yet our mercy ’twill wait;

If the famished and starving are close at our gate.

When the soul like the body is hungered and cold,

Shall we stop to reprove, and due comfort withhold?

“Lest we kill such with coldness, oh! let us beware,

There are many who echo the prodigal’s prayer.

1880

 

The Sabbath is a sign.

To be honest, the statement that the sabbath is a sign has intrigued me a bit. I think the sign of the Sabbath is meant to teach us about our values—what should be important in our lives. This means that the actual events of a Sabbath aren’t just important for themselves, but also for what they say to us. And, when I think about it, I believe that much of what we do on the Sabbath has multiple meanings—the need for community, the need to worship God, the need to rest from the week’s labors, etc., etc.

Here the highly prolific early LDS poet Joel Hills Johnson covers many of the activities we do on the Sabbath

 

‘Tis good, O Lord, to meet

This day, to pray and sing

With Saints, and worship at thy feet;

And grateful off’rings bring.

 

‘Tis sweet, at dawn of day,

Thy love and grace to tell;

‘Tis well, at eve, to sing and pray,

And on this theme to dwell.

 

‘Tis sweet , thus to be blest;

To join, with heart and voice,

With Saints on this blest day of rest,

And worship and rejoice.

 

‘Tis sweet, in songs of joy

Each Sabbath thus to spend;

Oh! may it be our blest employ,

Till time with us shall end!

1882

 

What was the difference between the two sets of stone tables Moses made?

I’m omitting a poem for this section. The section seems more about answering a factual question about what is said in the Bible. In addition, I was only able to find one poem that referenced Moses’ destruction of the first set of stone tables, and that was in a poem that covered many different biblical events on a topic that didn’t seem to match this lesson very well.