| 160 Poetry.
On the Death of Lorenzo D. Barnes.
By Thomas Ward.
And art thou dead my brother; my brother! And shortly, when the judgments of the Lord.
Yes, by the strongest ties that bind the heart, Shall burst upon the people who reject
Thou wert my brother; even by the bond The gospel of his Son, and turn away
Of God's most holy covenant; and, Oh! Contemptuous from the terms of peace. And thou
I loved thee well, for who that knew thy truth, Hast fallen in a land of strangers, where
Thy virtue, and integrity, but must Thy kindred dwell not; and their hearts will grieve
Have owned thy power, and lov'd thee. But 'tis well. To hear thy fate, but not as without hope;
Thou has nobly fallen. In duty's path They will mourn not for thee as the world mourns,
Thou wert, and zealous for the cause of truth; But look to meet thee in the glorious hour,
Nor fruitless was thy mission, but again When he shall come a kingdom to receive,
In fairer scenes thou shalt behold its fruits Whose right it is to reign! Then, my brother,
Arrayed in glory, and to thee a crown Thou shalt hail thy friends in triumph; no more
Of great rejoicing in the day of God. To be subject of death's fatal dart,
Thou sleepest well. Thou standest chronicl'd But clothed in power, and by thy priesthood called
(In these last days of mercy unto man,) To reign with Christ a king and priest. The day,
The first that in a distant land has left The great triumphant day shall come, when he,
His ashes to repose, of those who went, Before whose potent arm thou now hast fallen,
At God's command, to bear the glorious news Shall be no more; for Christ must reign until
Of his unchanging character, and tell The last of enemies shall be destroyed:
A people lost in error, of the work Then amid the pageantry and pomp
The Lord has wrought, and of the high behests Of myriad hosts in light supernal, and all
To proclaim a faithful testimony, The thousand joys that minister to bliss,
And warn the nations that ihe [the] hour will come, Still one shall be to meet Lorenzo there.
LINES ON THE DEATH OF BROTHER JOHN KENDALL, OF LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND, WHO WAS KILLED BY FALLING
FROM SCAFFOLD.
By Thomas Ward.
In his grave they have laid him, he slumbers in peace, O! then let us be glad in the light that has come,
While his spirit in Paradise sweetly shall rest, E'en the gospel's bright fulness [fullness], its priesthood of power;
Till the hour when the angel shall sound his release, While we look for a city-a glorious home,
In the first resurrection with Christ to be blest. And to meet all the sanctified dead in that hour.
O! then weep not, dear sister, more blessed is he, Then, O, Father above, let thy blessing descend,
Thy partner in life, though he lie with the dead; Let thy spirit its sweet consolation impart
And the band of affection that bound him to thee, To the widow, the mother, the sister and friend,
Is not severed because that his spirit hath fled, Let the joys of salvation enliven her heart.
Yet a short time shall pass, when, lo! gathered in one, Let her vision be clear of that glorious day,
All the saints of the Lord both in heav'n and earth, When thy Son shall descend with his angels of might,
With thee and thy young ones, and partner that's gone. When sorrow and pain, and all tears pass away,
May rejoice in the hour of a glorious birth. And truth stands revealed in heaven's own light.
The Times and Seasons,
Is Edited by John Taylor, printed and published about the first and fifteenth of every month, on the corner of Water and Bain Streets, Nauvoo, Hancock County, Illinois, by John Taylor and Wilford Woodruff,
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