While other blogs are marking the end of the year by choosing the most significant LDS news stories of 2008 or nominating a Mormon of the Year, Keepa chooses to gaze at its own navel and write its autobiography for 2008. Read on at your own peril.

You have been warned.

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Magnify the Lord to-day,
Cast all doubt and fear away,
Hear glad Angels singing;
Raising high their holy mirth,
O’er the Saviour’s wondrous Birth;
Joy to all men bringing!

On the Shepherd’s vigil lone
Sudden blaze of glory shone,
Sudden light from Heaven:
As, while watching o’er their fold;
Angels’ voices sweetly told,
How a Son was given.

Myriads of the Heavenly throng
Joined in that triumphant song,
High their voices raising:
“Joy to men, goodwill and peace,”
So they sang, and ne’er shall cease,
God in Glory praising.

Then the Shepherds ran with speed,
To the place where Christ indeed,
As a Babe, lay sleeping;
Left their flocks without a fear,
In the meadows lone and drear,
To the Angels’ keeping. (more…)

As promised when the Joseph Smith Papers, Journals, Vol. 1: 1832-1839 was published last month, additional online reference materials and a printed index have been made available.

The official site for the Papers project tells how purchasers of Vol. 1 can order (by email) a copy of the printed index, and announces the availability of a timeline, a chronology, and a pedigree chart, all documented. It also promises additional reference materials in the next few months.

So those of you lucky enough to have your copies in hand, enjoy. The rest of us will envy you, and will know to get our orders in earlier for the next volume.

Have you ever collected sets of things? A new state quarter from every state in the U.S.? An autograph from every member of your graduating class?

In Mormon circles, those collectible sets might be a Book of Mormon in every language in which it has been published, or photographs of you shaking hands with each member of the Quorum of the Twelve in a given year.

Or a set of documents containing the signatures of every First Presidency throughout the span of the Restoration?

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Listen, Lordings, unto me, a tale I will you tell;
Which, as on this night of glee, in David’s town befel.
Joseph came from Nazareth, with Mary that sweet maid:
Weary they were, nigh to death; and for a lodging prayed.

Sing high, sing high, sing low, sing low.
Sing high, sing low, sing to and fro,
Go tell it out with speed,
Cry out and shout all round about,
That Christ is born indeed.

In the inn they found no room; a scanty bed they made:
Soon a Babe from Mary’s womb was in the manger laid.
Forth He came as light through glass:
He came to save us all.
In the stable ox and ass before their Maker fall.

Sing high, sing high, sing low, sing low.
Sing high, sing low, sing to and fro,
Go tell it out with speed,
Cry out and shout all round about,
That Christ is born indeed.

Shepherds lay afield that night, to keep the silly sheep,
Hosts of angels in their sight came down from Heav’n’s high steep.
Tidings! Tidings! unto you: to you a Child is born,
Purer than the drops of dew, and brighter than the morn. (more…)

I’ve written before about Geertruida Lodder Zippro, Relief Society president in the Netherlands during World War II. There are really only a few new details in the following report, written by Franklin J. Murdock, former president of the Netherlands Mission, to the Relief Society General Board, but the report was written at the beginning of the war and seems much fresher and more immediate than the records I worked with earlier, which were written after the war. This account is dated 28 June 1940:

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Ding dong! merrily on high,
In heav’n the bells are ringing:
Ding dong! verily the sky
Is riv’n with angel singing.
Gloria, Hosanna in excelsis!

E’en so here below, below,
Let steeple bells be swungen,
And “Io, io, io!”
By priest and people sungen.
Gloria, Hosanna in excelsis!

Pray you, dutifully prime
Your matin chime, ye ringers;
May you beautifully rime
Your evetime song, ye singers.
Gloria, Hosanna in excelsis!

The Improvement Era, December 1948

In 1909, after months of preparation, Ben E. Rich of the Eastern States Mission (with headquarters at New York) and German E. Ellsworth of the Northern States Mission (with headquarters at Chicago), jointly published a tract to be used as a missionary tool.

The 24-page (8×12) brochure wasn’t especially exciting on its face — this stiff brown cover, tied with string and announcing the hymn “O, My Father,” is what greeted readers. It was also expensive, costing nearly a dollar to produce in contrast to the usual 2- or 3-cent cost of normal missionary tracts, and so could not be widely and indiscriminately distributed. Instead, it was offered for sale and was given to civic and social leaders and others whose good opinion the missionaries especially sought.

So what was so special about it?

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Jesus, our brother, kind and good,
Was humbly born in a stable rude;
And the friendly beasts around Him stood.
Jesus, our brother, kind and good.

“I,” said the Donkey, shaggy and brown,
“I carried His mother up hill and down;
I carried His mother to Bethlehem town.”
“I,” said the Donkey, shaggy and brown.

“I,” said the Cow, all white and red,
“I gave Him my manger for His bed;
I gave Him my hay to pillow His head.”
“I,” said the Cow, all white and red.

“I,” said the Sheep, with the curly horn,
“I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm;
He wore my coat on Christmas morn.”
“I,” said the Sheep, with the curly horn.

“I,” said the Dove, from the rafters high,
“I cooed Him to sleep that He should not cry;
We cooed Him to sleep, my mate and I.”
“I,” said the Dove, from the rafters high.

Thus every beast by some glad spell,
In the stable dark was glad to tell
Of the gift he gave Emmanuel,
The gift he gave Emmanuel.

The Children’s Friend, December 1962

From the church magazines of 1939:

Good English

Teacher: “How would you punctuate this sentence? ‘The wind blew a ten-dollar bill around the corner’.”

Johnnie: “I would make a dash after the bill.”

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When Christ was born in Bethlehem,
Fair peace on earth to bring,
In lowly state of love He came
To be the children’s King.

And round Him, then, a holy band
Of children blest was born,
Fair guardians of His throne to stand
Attendant night and morn.

And unto them this grace was giv’n
A Savior’s Name to own,
And die for Him who out of Heav’n
Had found on earth a throne.

O blessèd babes of Bethlehem,
Who died to save our King,
Ye share the martyrs’ diadem,
And in their anthem sing!

Your lips, on earth that never spake,
Now sound th’eternal word;
And in the courts of love ye make
Your children’s voices heard.

Lord Jesus Christ, eternal Child,
Make Thou our childhood Thine;
That we with Thee the meek and mild
May share the love divine.

– Laurence Housman

Instructor, December 1966

What follows is a reading given over the BBC radio network in 1956, by Daniel W. Beach. I have been away from the Archives for a couple of weeks and haven’t been able to research the hometowns or full names of the two missionaries discussed here, or the dates of their missions – evidently a year or two post-World War II – but when I am able to do that I will amend this post.

[Update: Maurine gets the prize, if I had one. "Joe" is Joseph W. Brooks of Sugar House, who was called to the British Mission in September 1948; "Dan" is Danford C. Bickmore of Paradise, called to the British Mission in January 1949.]

“Mormons?” I said when I heard that my mother had decided to take two American Mormon missionaries into our home. “Aren’t those the chaps who used to have lots of wives and built Salt Lake City? I thought they died out long ago.”

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Joyful Christmas, joyful Christmas,
Sing Noel, sing Noel!
Oh, little Stranger,
Laying in the manger,
Hear Noel, glad Noel!

Happy children, happy children
Sing Noel, sing Noel!
Faces are a-glowing,
All with gladness showing,
Sing Noel, glad Noel!

– Elizabeth Garrett

Juvenile Instructor, December 1912

The Morning Star upon us gleams;
How full of grace and truth His beams,
How passing fair His splendor!
Good Shepherd, David’s proper heir,
My King in heav’n, Thou dost me bear
Upon Thy bosom tender
Hearest, Dearest,
Highest, brighest, Thou delightest
Still to love me,
Thou so high enthroned above me,

Strike deep into this heart of mine
Thy rays of love, Thou Star divine,
And fire its dying embers:
And grant that naught have pow’r to part
Me from Thy body, Lord, who art
The life of all Thy members
I stand, Thy hand
Ever taking, Ne’er forsaking:
Naught shall ail met
Bread of Life, Thou wilt not fail me.

Thou, mighty Father, in Thy Son
Didst love me, ere Thou hadst begun
This ancient world’s foundation.
Thy Son hath made a friend of me,
And when in spirit Him I see
I’ve done with tribulation.
What bliss Is this!
Where He liveth Me He giveth
Life for ever,
Nothing me from Him can sever.

Lift up the voice and strike the string,
Let all glad sounds of music ring
In God’s high praises blended.
Christ will be with me all the way,
Today, tomorrow ev’ry day,
Till trav’ling days be ended.
Sing out, Ring out
Triumph glorious, O victorious,
Chosen nation;
Praise the God of your salvation.

– Philipp Nicolai (1599),
translated by E.J. Palmer (1892)

Relief Society Magazine, December 1966

Nations that long in darkness walked
Have now beheld a glorious light;
On them who dwelt in shades of death
The light hath shinèd heav’nly bright.

For lo! the virgin’s Child is born;
To us the Son of God is giv’n.
Upon His shoulders shall be laid
The government of earth and Heav’n.

His Name is callèd Wonderful,
The Counselor, the mighty God,
Eternal Father, Prince of Peace,
Peace dearly purchased with His blood.

His government shall know no bounds,
But far and wide o’er all extend;
And happy peace, the glorious fruits
Of His just reign, shall know no end.

O’er David’s kingdom, on His throne
To rule, and ’stablish it secure
With judgment clear, and justice right;
His reign forever shall endure.

– John Barnard, 1752

Relief Society Magazine, December 1964

“Madonna and Child,” by Ghirlandaio

While I’m struggling through the holidays, maybe you’d enjoy some of my favorite posts from long enough ago that perhaps you have forgotten them, or have joined the party since they were posted. Check out the Topical Guide in the sideblog to scan for other stories until your boss gives up and closes the office for an early Christmas break.

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Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descendeth,
Our full homage to demand.

King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.

Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.

At His feet the six wingèd seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most High!

– 4th century hymn; translator unknown

Relief Society Magazine, December 1967

“Vierge a la Grappe,” by Mignard

Ziff at ZD has an interesting discussion going about those picky little bits of doctrine that we somehow thought were absolutely central to Mormonism when we were children. Not surprisingly, perhaps, a lot of the suggestions have to do with Christmas, and especially our insistence that “angels don’t have wings, goldurnit!”

This is too long for a comment at ZD so I’m posting it here: Alvin R. Dyer’s 1968 personal notes and abhorence toward the merest suggestion of angels with wings [shudder] in a Mormon building [conniption fit]:

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All this night bright angels sing,
Never was such caroling,
Hark! a voice which loudly cries,
“Mortals, mortals, wake and rise.”
Lo! to gladness turns your sadness:
From the earth is ris’n a Son,
Shines all night tho’ day be done.”

Wake, O earth, wake ev’ry thing,
Wake and hear the joy I bring:
Wake and joy; for all this night,
Heav’n and ev’ry twinkling light,
All amazing, still stand gazing,
Angels, pow’rs and all that be,
Wake, and joy this Son to see.

Hail! O Son, O blessèd Light,
Sent into this world by night;
Let Thy rays and heav’nly pow’rs,
Shine in these dark souls of ours.
For most duly, Thou art truly
God and Man, we do confess:
Hail, O Sun of Righteousness!

– author unknown (published 1916)

Relief Society Magazine, December 1960

“The Virgin and Child,” by Murillo

Fresh-cut evergreens … crushed peppermint candy … a roasting turkey … Lots of aromas signal Christmas. None takes me back to the magical Christmases of my childhood, though, like the sweet and spicy scent of baking gingerbread.

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When Joseph went to Bethlehem
I think he took great care
To place his tools and close his shop
and leave no shavings there.
He urged the donkey forward,
then, with Mary on its back,
And carried bread and goat cheese
in a little linen sack.
I think there at the busy inn
that he was meek and mild
And awed to be the guardian
of Mary’s sacred Child.
Perhaps all through the chilly hours
he smoothed the swaddling bands,
And Jesus felt the quiet strength of
Joseph’s gentle hands.
And close beside the manger bed
he dimmed the lantern’s light,
And held the little Jesus close upon
that holy night.

– Traditional carol

Instructor, June 1969

“Jesus and Joseph,” by Vicente Lopez

The Relief Society didn’t often indulge in a funny page, but I found these jokes tucked into odd corners of the Magazine for 1932:

No Necessity for Language

“Does the baby talk yet?” asked a friend of the family of the little brother.

“Naw,” replied the little brother disgustedly. “He don’t need to talk. All he has ter do is yell, and he gits everything in the house worth having.”

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Here JOSEPH shall come in, leading an ass, on which are seated MARY and the CHILD.

MARY.
Here will we rest us, under these
O’erhanging branches of the trees,
Where robins chant their Litanies
And canticles of joy.

JOSEPH.
My saddle-girths have given way
With trudging through the heat to-day;
To you I think it is but play
To ride and hold the boy.

MARY.
Hark! how the robins shout and sing,
As if to hail their infant King!
I will alight at yonder spring
To wash his little coat.

JOSEPH.
And I will hobble well the ass,
Lest, being loose upon the grass,
He should escape; for, by the mass,
He’s nimble as a goat.

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In the summer of 1948, two prisoners escaped from a work farm near Carey, Ohio. Somewhere they obtained business suits to replace their jail garb, then walked into a bank and robbed it. As soon as local police could be alerted by telephone, roadblocks were thrown up on all the country roads, and lawmen were told to be on the lookout for the two dangerous but well-dressed robbers: one, age 24, was fair-skinned and had light hair; the other, age 26, was darker. They would probably be carrying bags with the cash they had taken from the bank.

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An angel thus til him can sai:
“Rise up, Joseph, and busk and ga,
Maria and thi child al-sua;
For yow be-hoves nu al thre
In land of Egypt for to fle;
Rise up ar it be dai,
And folus forth the wildrin wai.
Herod, that es the child fa,
Fra nu wil sek him for to sla.
Thare sal yee bide still wit the barn,
Til that I eft cum yow to warn.”
Son was Joseph redi bun;
Wit naghtertale he went to tun,
Wit Maria mild.

– from Curso Mundi, circa 1300

Relief Society Magazine, December 1968

“Flight into Egypt,” by Murillo

Sleep, baby, sleep! The Mother sings:
Heaven’s angels kneel and fold their wings.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

With swathes of scented hay Thy bed
By Mary’s hand at eve was spread.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

At midnight came the shepherds, they
Whom seraphs wakened by the way.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

And three kings from the East afar,
Ere dawn came, guided by the star.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

They brought Thee gifts of gold and gems,
Pure orient pearls, rich diadems.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

Thou who liest slumbering there,
Art King of Kings, earth, ocean, air.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds sing:
Through heaven, through earth, hosannas ring.
Sleep, baby, sleep!

– John Addington Symonds

The Children’s Friend, December 1959

(unidentified cover art)

The Mountain West Center for Regional Studies, a unit of the College of Humanities, Arts, and Social Sciences at Utah State University, has just distributed its 2008 Annual Report with announcements that may be of interest to Keepa readers. Some of these were news to me; others were of course announced when awards were made and events occurred.

Folk Songs from the Beehive State

Elaine Thatcher (MWC) and Randy Williams (USU’s Special Collections and Archives) have assembled a collection of 15 songs recorded by folk music specialists Austin and Alta Fife, published on CD in October and entitled Folk Songs from the Beehive State: Early Field Recordings of Utah & Mormon Music. (more…)

Ronald E. Romig, ed., Emma’s Family. Independence, Missouri: John Whitmer Books, 2008. (www.JohnWhitmerBooks.com)

When I was growing up – and heard again from an elderly Latter-day Saint as recently as six weeks ago – the prevailing LDS view of Emma Smith, widow of the Prophet, was that she was, if not quite a bad woman, at least unworthy of praise. She had, according to the popular condemnation, “left the Church, prevented Joseph’s children from growing up in the Church, and helped to start that other church.”

In the past few years books and booklets, fireside presentations, and most recently a movie, have gone to the other extreme, portraying Emma as a sentimental heroine, or a feminist dynamo whose virtues and leadership role in the Church rival that of the Prophet himself.

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Go pretty child, and bear this flower
Unto thy little Saviour;
And tell Him, by that bud now blown,
He is the Rose of Sharon known:
When thou hast said so, stick it there
Upon his bib, or stomacher:
And tell Him, (for good handsell too)
That thou hast bought a whistle new,
Made of a clean straight oaten reed,
To charm His cries, (at time of need:)
Tell Him, for coral, thou hast none;
But if thou hadst, He should have one;
But poor thou art, and known to be
Even as moneyless as He.
Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss
From those mellifluous lips of His;
Then never take a second on
To spoil the first impression.

–Robert Herrick

Juvenile Instructor, December 1913

(unidentified cover art)

The obituary of Jay Evard Welch, founder of the Jay Welch Chorale, the Mormon Youth Symphony and Chorus, and the Salt Lake Repertory Orchestra, and best known for his longtime service with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, appears in today’s Salt Lake City newspapers (HT: Mark B.). He passed away Sunday, and his funeral will be held on Thursday.

I hope to post something more than a link to the obituary soon.

Oh, hush thee, little dear, my soul,
The evening shades are falling;
Hush thee, my dear, dost thou not hear
The voice of the Master calling?

Deep lies the snow upon the earth,
But all the sky is ringing
With joyous song, and all night long
The stars shall dance with singing.

Oh, hush thee, little dear, my soul,
And close thine eyes in dreaming,
And angels fair shall lead thee where
The singing stars are beaming.

A shepherd calls his little lambs,
And he longeth to caress them;
He bids them rest upon his breast,
That his tender love may bless them.

So, hush thee, little dear, my soul,
Whilst evening shades are falling,
And above the song of the heavenly throng
Thou shall hear the Master calling.

– Eugene Field

The Instructor, December 1959

(unidentified cover art)