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“‘We’re not pulling back’ from helping refugees, LDS leader says as First Presidency increases budget”

“‘We’re not pulling back’ from helping refugees, LDS leader says as First Presidency increases budget” March 22, 2017

 

Relief Society general headquarters
The general headquarters of the Relief Society in Salt Lake City

(Wikimedia Commons public domain photo)

 

I’m very pleased at this:

 

http://www.deseretnews.com/article/865676059/Were-not-pulling-back-from-helping-refugees-LDS-leader-says-as-First-Presidency-increases-budget.html

 

In this context, it’s difficult not to think of the lyrics by James Montgomery (d. 1854) to the hymn that John Taylor sang in Carthage Jail not long before the mob assault on the jail that resulting in Elder Taylor’s grievous wounding and in the martyrdom of the Patriarch Hyrum Smith and the Prophet Joseph Smith.

 

The Mormon Tabernacle Choir performs it here.  But that apparently isn’t the tune that Elder Taylor sang.  Originally, when the song was written in 1826, the words were sung to a somewhat different melody.  Here is a rough version of that original tune:

 

 

Or, if you prefer, here’s that original melody on acoustic guitar:

 

 

  1. 1. A poor, wayfaring Man of grief
    Hath often crossed me on my way,
    Who sued so humbly for relief
    That I could never answer nay.
    I had not pow’r to ask his name,
    Whereto he went, or whence he came;
    Yet there was something in his eye
    That won my love; I knew not why.
  2. 2. Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
    He entered; not a word he spake,
    Just perishing for want of bread.
    I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
    And ate, but gave me part again.
    Mine was an angel’s portion then,
    For while I fed with eager haste,
    The crust was manna to my taste.
  3. 3. I spied him where a fountain burst
    Clear from the rock; his strength was gone.
    The heedless water mocked his thirst;
    He heard it, saw it hurrying on.
    I ran and raised the suff’rer up;
    Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
    Dipped and returned it running o’er;
    I drank and never thirsted more.
  4. 4. ‘Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
    A winter hurricane aloof.
    I heard his voice abroad and flew
    To bid him welcome to my roof.
    I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest
    And laid him on my couch to rest,
    Then made the earth my bed and seemed
    In Eden’s garden while I dreamed.
  5. 5. Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
    I found him by the highway side.
    I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
    Revived his spirit, and supplied
    Wine, oil, refreshment–he was healed.
    I had myself a wound concealed,
    But from that hour forgot the smart,
    And peace bound up my broken heart.
  6. 6. In pris’n I saw him next, condemned
    To meet a traitor’s doom at morn.
    The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
    And honored him ‘mid shame and scorn.
    My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
    He asked if I for him would die.
    The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,
    But my free spirit cried, “I will!”
  7. 7. Then in a moment to my view
    The stranger started from disguise.
    The tokens in his hands I knew;
    The Savior stood before mine eyes.
    He spake, and my poor name he named,
    “Of me thou hast not been ashamed.
    These deeds shall thy memorial be;
    Fear not, thou didst them unto me.”

 

 

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