June 5th, 1842, Sunday Morning
A camp meeting was held at Bridge of Weir of the branches in the west. E.G., D. Weat, & E. McAulay were present on the occasion & prayer meeting opened by E. McAulay. He then gave an account of the rise & organisation & progress of the work of God.
E.G. Hamilton next addressed us & in connection with the rise of the work the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, showing from the scripture that the prophets spake of such a book coming forth for the purpose of gathering the children of Israel.
E.D. Wilken was next called upon to speak on the plan of salvation. He said that men can come to a knowledge of these things for themselves by obeying this plan according to the directions of Christ.
E.T. Jaap was called upon to speak on the gifts & blessings which follow them that go forth & obey this plan & how that the Saints rejoiced in those blessings in ancient times. The meeting then broke up till 3 o’clock that the Saints might have a refreshment.
“Laying” Down on the Job
The football soared through the air and fell in the barnyard right at the rooster’s feet. A look of wonder came into his eyes as he surveyed it from all sides. Then he gravely pushed the ball into the henhouse and faced his harem. “I’m not complaining, Ladies,” he said, with an all-inclusive bow, “but I just want you to see for yourselves the work that is being done in the other yard.”
From the Relief Society Magazine, March 1956 –
The Ice-Cream Pie
By Florence B. Dunford
I am afraid I have always been the timid sort. “Do people like me?” seems always to be my question. And, “How much can I do for them?” And, “Do people really like you to do things for them?” Things like that. Matters of friendliness.
A couple of years before, we had moved to this new neighborhood. At first everyone made an obvious effort to be friendly, to get acquainted. But then the Jennings on the east of us seemed to find out that Tim and I didn’t really travel in their class after all. The neighbors directly across the street from us were a trifle old for me, I felt. Besides, she was a club woman and gone all day. And Dr. Walton was older even than his wife. By evening all he wanted was to settle down with TV.
Four LDS chaplains (Americans) in Italy toward the end of World War II – including Eldin Ricks, the chaplain who dedicated the Chapel Built by Cigarettes – issued an occasional mimeographed newsletter for the LDS servicemen in Italy as the war approached its end. Here’s the issue for 1 February 1945:
1 February 1945
Dear Brethren and Sisters:
At the time of this writing the war news looks better than it has at any time since 1939. The possibility of one day awakening to hear that war has ceased appears less remote than it did a month ago – though previous disappointments suggest that we be not too optimistic now. Whether the cessation of hostilities be soon or not it is well, when that long awaited day does arrive, that we keep in mind the counsel of the prophet and president, Heber J. Grant, and his councillors, J. Reuben Clark and David O. McKay, that the celebration at the end of the war be “of a character that would not grieve or wound the feelings of those whose mother country is one of the enemy states.” such a celebration is “essential” they have pointed out, because “the church is world-wide, with many thousands of our members citizens of the enemy country – members who deeply love their own homeland, and who individually are no more responsible for this terrible holocaust than we have been.”
By Eva Willes Wangsgaard
Above the plains that knew the hungry howl
Of preying wolves, the Redman’s warring scream,
And honk or swishing wings of migrant fowl
Ascended notes that wove a stranger theme,
For when the refugees from sad events
Disposed of jewelry and tableware,
Musicians did not barter instruments –
They would as soon have thoughts of selling prayer.
they knew that music has the power to lift
Discouraged hearts, bowed heads, the dragging limb;
And, nightly, with the campfire smoke, would drift
Quadrille and schottische, anthem, or grateful hymn.
Though hands and lips are stilled, a city grew
For every tune beyond their lost Nauvoo.
To the relief of the people of St. George, July 24, 1873 dawned slightly cooler than the day before. Work had been progressing on the Temple — as much as possible during a heat wave — but stopped for Pioneer Day. To celebrate the occasion, Charles Lowell Walker had composed an anthem, a poem about the Relief Society, and some toasts.
Like his song “Marching to Dixie,” Charles set the anthem to music about General Sherman, in this case the hymn “Hold the Fort,” performed below by a choir from Ottowa, Illinois, to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the first Lincoln-Douglas debate. (more…)
Somebody (okay, me) has been reading a lot of Widtsoe lately, and several times a day I’ve posted very short clips as Facebook updates. The response has been positive enough that I’ve created a John A. Widtsoe page on Facebook. You’re invited to “like” that page if you’d like a once or twice daily soundbite from one of Mormondom’s wisest, funniest, most courteous historical figures.
UPDATE: Keepa’ninnies who don’t use Facebook can follow the clips and photos on a behind-the-scenes page here at Keepa. See “Widtsoe on Facebook” in Keepa’s blogroll (see our sidebar) for a convenient link.
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From the Relief Society Magazine, May 1949 –
You Might Have Waited
By Fay Tarlock
Seeing Miss Tyndale again was just as Nan Kenny had hoped it would be. Miss Tyndale was coming down the flagstone path from her garden, carrying a tin milk pan heaped with gooseberries, her straw hat tilted back from her perspiring forehead.
“Well,” beamed Miss Tyndale, her smile deepening the wrinkles in her pleasant face, “this is the best surprise I’ve had all summer, and look how you’ve caught me!” She hurriedly set the pan of gooseberries on the path and began smoothing her blue and white gingham apron in a deprecatory manner.
“Don’t take your apron off, please,” Nan called as she came through the white picket gate, pushing her small daughter before her. “I’m going to help you pick the gooseberries.” Nan laughed an amused laugh. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a gooseberry, I’ll enjoy doing it.” Gooseberries, she thought, had become fashionable. Indeed Miss Tyndale and her picket gate would make good copy for any garden magazine.