---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Farnsworth, Mary A.
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 2
number: 11
published: 1899-09
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: 'Farnsworth, Mary A., "Why Must It Be? a Poem," *Improvement Era* 2, no. 11 (September 1899): 860–861.'
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera211unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera211unse
start_page: 860
end_page: 861
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1899-09)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera211unse
  publication_year: 1899
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1899, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# Why Must It Be? a Poem

<!-- page:860 -->

WHY MUST IT BE?
                      BY MARY A. FARNSWORTH.

                  Old Earth is growing strangely still,
                    Its sweetest sounds are lost to me;
                  With tears of grief my sad eyes fill,
                    Dear Lord, why must it be?

<!-- page:861 -->

WHY MUST IT BE?                   861

Why must I yield the precious gift
  That priceless boon bestowed by thee?
With lashes wet this prayer I lift,
  Dear Lord, why must it be?

While in my first primeval youth
  With thee, in realms above the sky.
Did I stand valiant for the truth
  Without a murmuring sigh?
Did I, life's ills before my eyes.
  Pertaining to this lower sphere,
A covenant make to sacrifice
  What mortals hold most dear?

And is it now thy holy will
  That I should bear another cross,
That daily grows more weighty still,
  To cleanse life's gold from dross?
Then help, oh help me by thy power
  To bear with grace thy chastening rod;
To draw more near thee every hour,
  My Father, and my God.

Until prepared for higher life
  Beyond this veil of grief and tears,
Released from sorrow, pain and strife.
  To dwell with thee a thousand years.
With former knowledge eye to eye
  As we are seen so we shall see;
No more with quivering lip to sigh,
  Dear Lord, why must it be?