The Temple Site
By John A. Lant
A thousand hills o’er Eden’s garden roll,
The Blue flows to Missouri’s golden goal.
No torrent speeds from limpid source,
No rocks retard its dimpled course.
Wooded crest and vale we scan
Awaiting spur from hand of man.
Roadways thread the land about,
Startling steam blast heard throughout.
Electric cars in transit glide
Rounding curve ’long steep hillside.
Surpassing days when saints steadfast,
Gleaned gospel light such things would come to pass.
Here and there a stately homestead reared,
Villas fair dot sites on spaces cleared,
Cottages there on shapely mound,
Garden spots in plenty here abound,
Portending comfort, peace on earth,
May here, anew, have wondrous birth.
. . . . . . . . . .
The Temple site lies mute beneath the sky;
A rising plane, long waiting, wonders why?
The neighboring kine seek pasture and repose,
Why not of such a valued spot dispose?
Wait! – on Independence hillside, grand,
Zion’s Temple of the world will stand!
On visiting the spot, Nov. 24, 1905.