An Address Spoken by a Young Saint
By Edward S. Shaw
Dear friends, behold this tiny fruit:
It seems a wondrous thing,
That, wrapt up in an acorn’s shell,
Should live a forest king.
But plant it in a genial soil,
And as the year rolls round,
Then may you see a hardy plant
Appear above the ground.
Observe its growth: it rises high;
Its limbs stretch far and wide;
The acorn has become a tree;
The tree, the woodland’s pride.
And though a boy, I am a Saint,
And hope to be a man,
To grow in grace and understand
The gospel’s mighty plan, —
To build up temples to the Lord, —
To spread his truths abroad;
And on Mountain Zion, when redeemed,
To stand — a son of God.