| 48 Switzerland county, Indiana, on Saturday Oct. 15th 1842, according to previous appointment. The meeting was called to order by elder Samuel Hewitt, when elder John Bair was called to the chair, and elder Samuel Hewitt appointed to act as clerk.
Being duly organized the conference was opened by singing, and prayer by J. M. Grant. The business brought before the conference was then disposed of to the entire satisfaction of all present, and the officers of the branch were chosen without a dissenting vote. The greatest union and harmony prevailed, and all things were done decently and in order, as becometh saints.
After several addresses by elders Grant and Bair, the clerk represented the condition of the branch as follows: thirty five members, exclusive of officers; six have removed to the west since our conference in May last, and twenty have been added; a number more are believing, but are still halting between two opinions, whether it is best to serve God or Baal. There is grounds to hope that some of them will make a wise choice and choose that good part which shall not be taken from them.
The following resolutions were unanimously adopted:
Resolved, That elders J. M. and J. Grant receive a vote of thanks of this conference for their labors among us for the last two weeks.
Resolved, That elder John Bair receive a letter of commendation for his labors in this branch during the past summer.
Resolved, That an abridged copy of the minutes of this conference be forwarded to the editor of the Times and Seasons for publication.
Resolved, That this conference adjourn to meet at the same place, on the third Saturday of April next.
For the Times and Seasons.
APOSTROPHE TO DEATH.
BY MISS E. R. SNOW.
What art thou, Death?-I've seen thy visage and Of revelation shone upon thy path
Have heard thy sound-deep, low, murm'ring sound Thou seem'st no more a hideous monster, arm'd
That rises on thy tread! With jav'lins, arrows, shafts, and iron barbs,
Thy land is called To fix in everlasting hopelessness
A land of shadows; and thy path, a path The noblest prospect and the purest hope.
Of blind contingence gloominess and fear- Beyond thy presence and beyond thy reach-
Thy form, comprising all that's terrible; Beyond the precincts of thy dread domain-
For all the terrors that have cross'd the earth, Beyond the mansions where in silence lie
Or crept into its lowest depths, have been The scattered relics of thy ghastly power-.
Associated with the thoughts of Death! High on eternity's projecting coast;
The tales of old bear record of thy deeds, A glorious beacon rears its lofty disk,
For thou hast been in every rank and grade- And the bright beams of immortality
In every circumstance-in every place By revelation's bold reflection giv'n,
A visitor. Unceremoniously Have fall'n upon thee and roll'd back the shades
Thou'st strode into the mansions of the great, Which superstition, ignorance and doubt
And rous'd a strain of agonizing grief Had heap'd like ocean's mountain-waves upon
Above the rich, embroidered carpetings Thy lone, unsocial, hourly-trodden path.
That decorate the splendid citadels Hope, the bright luminary of the heart,
Where pomp and fashion reign: where bolts and bars Is coursing around thee, and her orbit's breadth
To each intruding form; all but thyself, Extends beyond the utmost of thy shades
Preclude admittance: thou hast added oft And points her radius to celestial spheres
To the abode of wretched poverty The mask that hung in troubled folds around
A larger, deeper draught of wretchedness! Thy pulseless bosom, has been torn aside-
The rich and poor, the little and the great Seen as thou art, by inspiration's light,
Have shar'd thy bitterness-have seen thy hand! Thou hast not look the righteous need to fear,
But thou art chang'd-the terror of thy looks- With all thy ghastliness-amid the grief
The darkness that encompass'd thee, is gone; Thy presence brings. I hear a thrilling tone
There is no frightfulness about thee now Of music, sweet as seraph notes that ride
Intelligence, the everlasting lamp Upon the balmy breath of summer eve.
Of truth, of truth eternal, lighted from Art thou a tyrant, holding the black reins
The world on high, has pour'd its brilliant flame Of destiny that binds the future course
Abroad, to scatter darkness and to chase Of man's existence? No; thou art, O Death!
The horrors that attended thy approach! A haggard porter, charg'd to wait before
And thou art chang'd-for since the glorious light The Grave, life's portal to the worlds on high.
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 & WILFORD WOODRUFF.
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, POST PAID, or they will not receive attention.
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