My Guardian: A Poem

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THE LETTER FROM MARY. 87

I I can get a new one suppose I must leave the glass and frame. in Idaho. As you know, my wife died before the Gospel came to us. Now I am going to do the work for her in the temple. Oh, she was a good woman, mother was; and she will be glad, over yonder in the spirit world. What a blessed thing it is when one can bring gladness, not only to those in this world, but also to those who have gone before! The Gospel reaches a long way, doesn't it?" He worked and talked, and I helped him strap his trunk, and get it to the station.I remained with him until he was off. He went around to his neighbors and bade them all goodbye; and now that he was going, they all appeared to be sorry. I think they had not appreciated him until now. And I — well, when he took my hand through the car \vindow, and held on to it until the car was in motion, I fear my last sight of him was rather dim. So keep a lookout for Brother John. He walks as straight as you or I. His hair is gray, yet heavy. His eyes are blue. His cheeks are red. When he smiles, it is as sweet as a child's. You will know him at sight. God bless Brother John, and all such as he, "for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." Liverpool, England.

MY GUARDIAN. An angel came to my home one night; His face was comely, his raiment white. He spoke, extending to me his hand, And I straightway followed his command. But the path seemed narrow, hard to tread, I longed for the home I left, instead. I looked for my friends and wondered why

They all so scornfully passed me by! I looked to the left, looked to the right; Then followed again the angel light. But at length my poor heart failed me sore, I thought: I'll return to earth once more. But the angel gently clasped my hand 1 turned again toward the promised land. —Grace Ingles Frost Salt Lake City, Utah.