There Is Still Time
By Margery S. Stewart
Synopsis: Elizabeth Anderson is disturbed by a strange dream in which she sees herself and her friends walking on crutches. She tells the dream to Brent, her husband, and explains to him that something is lacking in their family – a spiritual oneness. Brent, however, is so interested in making money that he does not wish to understand Elizabeth’s plea. Brent receives a letter from his brother David requesting that Brent take their mother into his home. Elizabeth surprises her husband and children by insisting that Grandmother Anderson is welcome to come and live with them, but after the grandmother arrives, Elizabeth realizes that living with her will not be easy.
Grandma Anderson was not to be awed by the size of the house, nor the swimming pool.
“Seems to me some people could make better use of their money,” she sniffed.
This is the cover of the hymnal published by Joseph Wilford Booth in Aleppo, Syria. Its 89 hymns are in the Turkish language, written in the Armenian alphabet. Some were local Christian hymns; others were Mormon favorites translated by Pres. Booth and other missionaries over the previous quarter century.
Jesse Edmund Simister (1876-1953), of Leeds, England, was baptized in 1897. At the time he wrote this testimony very early in 1917, he was and had been for some time the branch president of Leeds. He may not yet have received word of the death of his 16-year-old son, or it may have been written immediately after having received that sad news.
Brother Simister wrote several pieces during the war which will appear here at Keepa in the next little while. He survived the war to go home to his wife and five living children, all of whom, with their parents, eventually emigrated to the United States where they were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple.
To a Lost Flyer
By Bessie Jarvis Payne
In memory of Captain Lee Jarvis Halling
Killed in action – May 5, 1944
Dedicated to his mother
Rose Jarvis Halling
Wings approaching in the sky,
Slowing as they pass me by,
Dipping now in brief goodbye –
O’er this home.
Wings against the azure deep,
Eager flight into the street,
Straining eyes that must not weep –
Till peace is won.
Wings upon the sun-splashed hills
Casting shadows o’er the rills,
Soaring high, as my heart thrills –
Then you’re gone.
Wings above the ocean’s foam
Winging far from friends and home.
Must you never cease to roam–
Broken wings in downward sweep,
Swiftly be the fate you meet,
Rest now in eternal sleep –
Oh, my son.
Fifth Guild Meeting: February 1944
By Alexander Schreiner,
Tabernacle Organist and
Member, Church Music Committee
The responsibility for the appropriateness of music on the Lord’s day rests with both musicians and the presiding officers. Those directors and organists who officiate regularly at our meetings may consider themselves as responsible for all the music which they themselves present. However, when presiding officers invite individuals and outside choruses to present special members, then those officers are responsible for the suitability of the music which they have invited into the service.
Only sacred music is acceptable on the Sabbath day. While this statement is self-evident, carelessness is ever near to bring some popular, frivolous tune into church services. The excuse sometimes given is that these secular, non-religious tunes are pretty. But God requires that which is truly beautiful. there is a difference between that which is pretty and that which is beautiful; that which tinkles, and that which lifts our hearts to God.
There Is Still Time
By Margery S. Stewart
Synopsis: Elizabeth Anderson is disturbed by a strange dream in which she sees herself and her friends walking on crutches which crumble away. She tells the dream to Brent, her husband, and explains to him that something is lacking in their family life, a spiritual oneness. Brent, however, is so interested in making money, that he has no wish to understand Elizabeth’s plea. Returning from an early morning drive to the beach, Elizabeth sees the Los Angeles Temple under construction, and the building seems to symbolize her aspirations and her longing for a more complete life.
Elizabeth sat down on the unfinished temple steps. She had children who received the highest grades in their classes and were spiritual illiterates. A snatch from an overheard conversation ran through her mind.
“What are you supposed to be, Donna? Daniel in the lion’s den?”
This post was sparked by a Facebook discussion with a friend-of-a-friend yesterday. He is certainly welcome to participate and respond here, by name or by pseudonym, but I do not name him myself because he isn’t a regular participant at Keepa. Also, while the quotations are accurate, I do not reproduce the entire discussion or even represent the substance of the discussion – this post does not debate the substantive issues raised by “Friend,” but only one narrow aspect of how the discussion was framed.
Speaking of Julie Smith’s recent T&S post, Men, Women and Modesty, Friend wrote, “I wasn’t going to say anything about it, but got to thinking again about the gulf between liberals and conservatives, which this strikingly illustrates.” There exist, he writes, “the views in this essay, and the reactions to it” on the one hand, and on the other, “the sensible side of conservative views about modesty.” Indeed, “I’ve often though[t] the gap between liberal and conservative is deeper in our culture, and in the Church, than that between believer and unbeliever, and maybe this illustrates that.”
Ann Prior was born into a prosperous family in East London, but the family was reduced to poverty through a series of misfortunes including the death of her father. When Ann was eleven, she acted against her Scottish mother’s wishes and left school to become a dressmaker so she could help support the family.
She worked as a dressmaker for several years, and then when she was almost seventeen, she married George Jarvis, a sailor who had traveled around the world several times.
Between ocean voyages, George took care of ships in harbor. He and Ann were living on board a ship with their two children when George heard the missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints preaching on an English street-corner. He hurried back to the ship to tell Ann what he’d heard about Joseph Smith and the restoration of the Gospel. Ann heard his explanation and replied, “George, it’s true!” (more…)
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By Celia Keegan
My fragile glasses can be wrapped with care
And gently packed in yesterday’s old news.
Burlap can cover table, desk, and chair
To save smooth surfaces from rough abuse.
My linens may be fragrant, boxed, and neat,
While crated books may cause strong men to grumble,
And the piano sheathed in a ragged sheet
Lest it be marred, should careless carriers stumble.
All these possessions can be moved away
To a street new-numbered and new named.
But something that I dearly loved must stay:
The living picture my bedroom window framed.
And for months, this vagrant thought will tease my mind:
“What was the thing those movers left behind?”
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