| 783 POETRY.
For the Times and Seasons.
A VOICE FROM THE PROPHET.
"COME TO ME.'
BY W. W. PHELPS, ESQ.
-TUNE-"Indian Hunter."-
Come to me, will ye come to the saints that have died- Come to me, here are Adam and Eve at the head
To the next better world, where the righteous reside; Of a multitude, quicken'd and rais'd from the dead:
Where the angels and spirits in harmony be Here's the knowledge that was, or that is, or will be-
In the joys of a vast Paradise? Come to me. In the gen'ral assembly of worlds: Come to me
Come to me where the truth and the virtues prevails; Come to me, here's the myst'ry that man hath not seen;
Where the union is one, and the years never fail; Here's our Father in heaven, and Mother, the Queen,
Where a heart can't conceive, nor a nat'ral eye see, Here are worlds that have been, and the worlds yet to be;
What the lord has prepar'd for the just: Come to me. Her Here's eternity,-endless;l amen: Come to me.
Come to me where there is no destruction or war; Come to me all ye faithful and blest of Nauvoo:
Neither tyrants, or mobbers, or nations ajar; Come ye Twelve, and ye High Priests, and Seventies, too;
Where the system is perfect, and happiness free, Come ye Elders, and all of the great company;-
And the life is eternal with God: Come to me. When you've finish'd your work on the earth: Come to me.
Come to me, will ye come to the mansions above, Come to me; here's the future, the present and past:
Where the bliss and the knowledge, the light, and the love, Here is Alpha, Omega, the first and the last;
And the Glory of God, do eternally be? Here's the fountain, the "river of life," and the Tree:
Death, the wages of sin, is not here: Come to me. Here's your Prophet & SEER JOSEPH SMITH: Come to me.
THE MAID OF JUDAH.
Again shall the children of Judah sing, O where are the sons of thine ancient race,
The lay of a happier time, Who the bow and the javelin did bear;
And strike the harp with the golden string, Fallen is that city, whose wreck I now trace,
'Neath the sun of an eastern clime; Though it once was so lovely and fair.
This was the lady of a Jewish maid, The green grass grows o'er that fertile spot,
Though not in her own father's bower; Where once grew the loveliest of flowers;
So sweetly she sung, as in sadness she stray'd, Land of my kindred thou'lt ne'er forgot,
O'er the ruins of Babylons towers. Whilst the ruins remain of thy towers,
Again shall the children &c. Again shall the children &c.
The Times and Seasons, is 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, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
TERMS.-Two DOLLARS per annum, payable in all cases in advance. Any person procuring five new subscribers, and forwarding us Ten Dollars current money, shall receive one volume gratis. All letters must be addressed to John Taylor, editor, POSTPAID, or they will not receive attention.
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