---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Robert W. Sloan
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 7
number: 8
published: 1904-06
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: 'Robert W. Sloan, "All, All Will Pass Away," *Improvement Era* 7, no. 8 (June 1904): 618.'
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0708unse
  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: improvementera0708unse
start_page: 618
end_page: 618
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1904-06)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0708unse
  publication_year: 1904
  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 1904, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# All, All Will Pass Away

<!-- page:618 -->

———— ——— —— —

  ALL, ALL WILL PASS             AWAY.
     {For the Improvement Era.)

Grief is the proud soul's discontent
     Its cry disconsolate

The heart's refusal to assent
     Its protest against fate.

Yet hungry grief and joy's glad call
    Can live but for a day;
For time, which peaceful broods o'er all,
    Says: "These will pass away."

And hopes and fears, and glowing dreams
    And hours that promise joy
And placid moons, skies golden beams,
    And trifles that annoy
All, all,   —the cherished thoughts of years,
     Which fond hearts bid to stay
Endure no more than childhood's tears
     They fade and pass away.

Self will not yield.     Time seems unkind
      To rob us of our own
These children of the heart and mind
      The fairest ever known;
Yet self must yield.      Time's gentle hand
      Turns winter into May,
And holds all passions in command
    And these, too, pass away.

No thing endures that is not right,
      The love that claims its life
Shall pass like shadows in the night,
      And pass through untold strife.
Love, to endure, must yield its will.
    And seek God's will alway
Then peace the troubled soul may fill,
      And shall not pass away.
                                      ~R. W. Sloan.