Two Pictures. A Poem

HONOR AND DIGNITY OF PRIESTHOOD 411 individuals. The name of the Church to which we belong is of unusual significance — "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints." It is a proclamation of the unique position claimed by the organization among the multitudinous sects and churches of the day. While this distinguishing name has been given by revelation (Doc. and Cov. 115:3, 4), it is to be employed with due respect to the sacred name of our Savior embodied in the general title. Usually it is preferable to speak of "The Church" rather than to use the full title ; though, of course, in any connection in which ambiguity or uncertainty may appear, the full name of The Church may be properly used. The members are known as Latter-day Saints, and this name is of sacred import. The term "Saint," strictly applied, means "one who is holy ;" that is to say, one who is set apart or has separated himself from those who profess not as he does, in sacred belief and practice. It is more appropriate to speak of those who belong as the "Members of the Church," rather than as the "Saints," except as particular and special occasion may indicate otherwise. Every member of The Church and more especially every bearer of the Priesthood, should strive earnestly and prayerfully to be worthy of the sacred and distinguishing title belonging to his position ; the title itself should be held in reverence, and the profession it signifies should be regarded as sacred. Two Pictures (Thoughts at the dedication of the Temple site in Canada) The day was ended. Out of the mystic East Climbed the moon, pale and large and silent; The sparkling pearls of heaven danced and sported gay, And the broad Canadian plain looked up and smiled. Yes, smiled: for hard by the rolling flood That cleaves its way to the icy wastes of Hudson, Lay the tents of Israel, and the songs of Zion Rose in triumphant melody to the courts of God. The mountains, too, rejoiced. Their rugged forms, Piercing the unfathomed vaults, above, below, Choraled in lofty cadence with the echoing plain. The coyote, lean and wretched, peers in puzzled wonder; Then, freezing the very night blood with his hankering wail. Circles the camp, provoked yet baffled. The Blood comes next, his strong and subtle form Swaying to the easy gallop of his faithful steed. He gazes long, but words move not his lips. He turns, And the keen air of even cools his cheek As he seeks again his fire.

412 IMPROVEMENT ERA The night advances. The moon Glides in streaming majesty through the sky; A gentle zephyr steals o'er the earth; Fairy cloudlets rise from the north; The river's voice falls to a lulling chord; And the weary pilgrims sink into their rest. The caravan of years moves on, and Time Leaves its impress on those wakening plains. The mountains still are there, serene and noble; The transformed acres teem with blessed promise Of abundant harvest. The river, winding through verdant fields, Cools the salty mouths of countless, foam-flaked bands That rush with eager eye and pointed ear To the precious stream. There, where the bison trailed in lordly file Across the pensive prairie, glistening bands of steel Bind the quiet homestead to the great, pulsating world beyond. The old, gray mill, crumbling with decay, stands In melancholy grandeur — a venerable token Of the distant years. And lo! In the valley, stretching north and south From Lee's Creek, racing in youthful fury, lies the town — A thing of beauty in the slanting rays of the sun. The streets are silent, but on yon hill, which looms Above the rest, stands a mighty throng, The assembled hosts of Israel, called forth To sanctify this choice expanse of Joseph's heritage. In their midst stands the Prophet of the Lord, True to his sacred trust; venerable with age, Yet throbbing with that greater life which crowns A pure and useful past. He speaks, and the bared heads are bowed. The words fall like pearls on the summer air, Moving to tears a multitude of souls. It thrills their hearts, for on that sacred spot, Soon shall shine the Holy Temple— glorious thought! The prayer at length is ended, and joyous strains Swell forth in power renewed and voice sublime. The soul of nature breathes a deep response. Approvingly the Sovereign of a boundl ss realm Surveys the scene, as, wreathed in dazzling robes He draws to his stately breast the crimson sun. And the Saints depart. MAGRATH, CANADA FRANK STEELE