A Symphony of Song

Every Pioneer Day, I yearn for that magical, inspired feeling that comes when I turn my heart to those who went before me--those who sacrificed so that I can today enjoy the blessings of the gospel, liberty, and prosperity. It is a feeling of sincere gratitude and appreciation. It is a feeling that drives me to be a little more like those great men and women whose faith was so strong. So, in my annual quest for this renewal of faith and gratitude, I crack open my video and music collection. This traditional collection includes, to name a few: The Mountain of the Lord--a powerful video portraying the 40 year effort to build the Salt Lake Temple, Legacy--a movie that recounts the horrific persecutions and trials of those early saints who followed Joseph Smith, and later Brigham Young, from home to home across uncharted frontier to eventually find a home in the Rocky's, and Come, Come Ye Saints--the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's album that was was released for the sesquecentennial (or 150th anniversary) of the Latter Day Saint's settling of the Salt Lake valley.

In the past couple years, though, I've found that I can most easily find that special feeling, the pioneer spirit, by listening to Saints and Pioneers, a musical production by Rob Gardner that powerfully tells the story of the pioneers through words and music in an hour. Each year, perhaps each time I listen, a different song touches my heart and becomes my new "favorite". This year, my favorite is a piece called "We Must Sing". The words of this song, so powerfully penned, are:

Who knows the burden placed on your heart?
Whence comes the longing? When shall it part?
No matter the sorrow, He'll not forsake,
God made our hearts and in His absence they ache.

Who knows what trials may come our way?
How shall we meet them? What will He say
When we kneel before Him? Will He approve?
God gave us trials that we might choose.

Who'll tell what blessings flow from above?
How might we measure His boundless love?
I'll sing of His goodness, Glory I'll bring.
God made our voices, but we make them sing.

God gave us voices, so we must sing.

God made our hearts... he allows us to feel pain. He allows us to feel sorrow. He allows us to suffer. He also allows us to feel joy and peace, serenity and commitment. Without this precious gift, we would not be human. I thank God for the ability to feel joy, despite the capacity to feel pain.

God also allows us to pass through hardships. God gave us trials that we might choose. With each challenge, we choose to draw nearer to Him or to withdraw to our own devices. And in the daily struggle through affliction and the daily enjoyment of goodness, happiness, and love, we are invited to simply be. We are who we are because of our collective experiences. These allow us to learn and grow and to become a little more like our Savior through each experience, be it a good one or a difficult one. And in each of these experiences, we are simply invited to raise our voices, such wonderful gifts from a loving Heavenly Father, in song. God gave us voices, so we must sing!

Every day, every hour, we are composing music in our hearts--songs of gratitude, joy, pain, or anger. I must admit that some days, the music coming from my heart would be best belong at a heavy metal concert where, rather than through the lyrics, the message of my song is found through loud, unmelodic shouts of intense emotion, be it frustration, anger, or despair. There are some days, however, when a sweet melody of love and happiness can be heard in my thoughts, words, and deeds--the same unique and beautiful melodies I hear from so many others around me. What a masterful symphony of song when voices raise in harmony praising God and finding joy and hope in every experience!

This Pioneer Day, I wish to share a few songs that have truly touched my heart--songs from faithful men and women that I wish so desperately to learn and to echo in my own experiences.

I begin by sharing a song of commitment. This song has been sung by many, but I am especially touched by the simple melody aired by Brigham Young, a man who, in my opinion, was the ultimate pioneer, a man who endured much and inspired many. Brigham sang:

"I will tell you what to do in order to gain your exaltation, the which you cannot obtain except you take this course. If your affections are placed upon anything so as to hinder you in the least from dedicating them to the Lord, make a dedication of that thing in the first place, that the dedication of the whole may be complete… If my heart is not fully given up to this work, I will give my time, my talents, my hands, and my possessions to it, until my heart consents to be subject. I will make my hands labour in the cause of God, until my heart bows in submission to it… The Lord must be first and foremost in our affections; the building up of his cause and kingdom demands our first consideration."

Brigham truly was a man who practiced what he preached. After gaining a testimony of the restored gospel, he left his livelihood and the comforts of his home to join the saints in Ohio. Sang he:

"When we arrived in Kirtland [in September 1833], if any man that ever did gather with the Saints was any poorer than I was—it was because he had nothing. … I had two children to take care of—that was all. I was a widower. ‘Brother Brigham, had you any shoes?’ No; not a shoe to my foot, except a pair of borrowed boots. I had no winter clothing, except a homemade coat that I had had three or four years. ‘Any pantaloons?’ No. ‘What did you do? Did you go without?’ No; I borrowed a pair to wear till I could get another pair. I had travelled and preached and given away every dollar of my property… I had traveled and preached until I had nothing left to gather with; but Joseph said: ‘come up;’ and I went up the best I could."

When the Lord calls, "Come up," will we have the commitment to join our song with Brigham's and go up the best we can?

Next, I am reminded of another song, a song of duty, which is closely related to commitment. Many of the early saints were not much better off than Brigham was when he joined the saints in Kirtland. Poverty and disease were rampant among the saints and they relied heavily on divine aid. When the call to serve came from a Prophet of God, it was not reserved for those who had health and prosperity. It was not directed at the learned or the eloquent of word. The call came to all, often in times of hardship. Many elders were sent abroad on missions when their wives might reasonably have pleaded for them to remain due to trials at home. Story after story tells of a man, his wife, and his children joining their voices with others to sing of duty and service. What beautiful words they sang!

"My four children had to be schooled and clothed, and no money would be left with me," sang Louisa Barnes Pratt, wife of Addison Pratt who was called on a mission to the Sandwich Islands. "My heart felt weak at the first, but I determined to trust in the Lord, and stand bravely before the ills of life, and rejoice that my husband was counted worthy to preach the gospel." Not long after Addison’s departure, his young daughter contracted smallpox. The disease was so contagious that there was real danger to any priesthood brother who might come to the Pratts, so Louisa prayed with faith and "rebuked the fever." Eleven little pimples came out on her daughter’s body, but the disease never developed. In a few days the fever was gone. Louisa later sang a sweet melody of testimony, "I showed the child to one acquainted with that disease; he said it was an attack; that I had conquered it by faith."

Many members of the Twelve were struck with the ague as they prepared to depart for England. Wilford Woodruff, who was very ill, left his wife, Phoebe, almost without food and the necessities of life. George A. Smith, the youngest Apostle, was so sick that he had to be carried to the wagon, and a man who saw him asked the driver if they had been robbing the graveyard. Brigham Young was so ill that he was unable to walk even a short distance without assistance, and his companion, Heber C. Kimball, was no better. Their wives and families, too, lay suffering. When the Apostles reached the crest of a hill a short distance from their homes, both lying in a wagon, they felt as though they could not endure leaving their families in so pitiful a condition. At Heber’s suggestion, they struggled to their feet, waved their hats over their heads, and shouted three times, "Hurrah, Hurrah, for Israel." Their wives, Mary Ann and Vilate, gained strength enough to stand and, leaning against the door frame, they sang out, "Good-bye, God bless you." The two men returned to their wagon beds with a spirit of joy and satisfaction at seeing their wives standing instead of lying sick in bed.

Have you ever heard such beautiful music? Listen on. It gets better... Francis Scott Key sang of his feelings of gratitude as he saw his nation's banner still flying proudly in the calm aftermath of a storm of war and violence. I can hear a similar tune of one who truly appreciates the rising sun following a difficult night in the words of Bishop Edward Partridge who was publically stripped and covered with tar and feathers. He sang,

"I bore my abuse with so much resignation and meekness, that it appeared to astound the multitude, who permitted me to retire in silence, many looking very solemn, their sympathies having been touched as I thought; and as to myself, I was so filled with the Spirit and love of God, that I had no hatred towards my persecutors or anyone else."

As the persecutions raged in Missouri, many sang of hope. Others sang of faith and healing. During a conflict near the Big Blue River, Philo Dibble was shot three times in the stomach. Brother Dibble sang:

"Brother Newel Knight came to see me, and sat down on the side of my bed… I felt the Spirit resting upon me at the crown of my head before his hand touched me, and I knew immediately that I was going to be healed… I immediately arose and discharged three quarts of blood or more, with some pieces of clothes that had been driven into my body by the bullets. I then dressed myself and went out doors… From that time not a drop of blood came from me and I never afterwards felt the slightest pain or inconvenience from my wounds, except that I was somewhat weak from the loss of blood."

Where Brother Dibble's song continued in this life, there were others who continued their songs in the next life. Such was the sweet melody of David Patten, the first martyr in the church, who died from injuries he sustained in a battle at Crooked River, where Latter-Day Saints attempted to rescue three kidnapped brethren.

Of Elder Patten, Heber C Kimball sang: "The principles of the Gospel which were so precious to him before, afforded him that support and consolation at the time of his departure, which deprived death of its sting and horror."

On his deathbed, David Patten's song turned first to those of his brethren who had fallen from their steadfastness into apostasy. "O that they were in my situation! For I feel that I have kept the faith." Next he pled with his wife, singing, "Whatever you do else, Oh do not deny the faith." Just before he died, he sang to his God, "Father, I ask Thee in the name of Jesus Christ, that Thou wouldst release my spirit, and receive it unto Thyself." And then to those around him he intoned, "Brethren, you have held me by your faith, but do give me up, and let me go, I beseech you." Brother Kimball sang, "We accordingly committed him to God, and he soon breathed his last, and slept in Jesus without a groan."

The persecutions continued, and the saints were compelled to seek out another home. In faith, thousands outfitted wagons and handcarts and braved the wilds of the frontier I cannot pretend to comprehend what it was that inspired William Hyde, a husband and father, to sing the following when asked to leave his homeless family along the trail to join the Mormon Battalion in service of a nation that had turned its back on his family, his rights, and his people. Sang William,

"The thoughts of leaving my family at this critical time are indescribable. They were far from the land of their nativity, situated upon a lonely prairie with no dwelling but a wagon, the scorching sun beating upon them, with the prospect of the cold winds of December finding them in the same bleak, dreary place.

"My family consisted of a wife and two small children, who were left in company with an aged father and mother and a brother. The most of the Battalion left families. … When we were to meet with them again, God only knew. Nevertheless, we did not feel to murmur."

After his discharge, William and many of the other battalion members remained in California to work for a season. Several were present at John Sutter's sawmill when gold was first discovered in 1848, leading to the California Gold Rush. Despite the prosperous possibilities, the Latter-day Saint fathers and husbands did not stay in California to seek their fortune, but rather followed the call of a prophet to gather in Utah. James S. Brown sang of his experience:

"I have never seen that rich spot of earth since; nor do I regret it, for there always has been a higher object before me than gold… Some may think we were blind to our own interests; but after more than forty years we look back without regrets, although we did see fortunes in the land, and had many inducements to stay. Still duty called, our honor was at stake, we had covenanted with each other, there was a principle involved; for with us it was God and His kingdom first. We had friends and relatives in the wilderness, yea, in an untried, desert land, and who knew their condition? We did not. So it was duty before pleasure, before wealth, and with this prompting we rolled out."

I can think of many songs about flowers, songs about lillies, lilacs, pansies, and even mistletoe. I especially love songs about roses. A rose is truly beautiful, but a rose can also offer a painful prick if not handled carefully. Often, many can only see the thorns along their way, but a small few can sense the roses amidst the thorns.

Joseph Moenor sang about his experiences on the trek west. He recalled having "a hard time" in getting to the Salt Lake Valley. But, through his journals, we hear his song was of wonders he had never before seen—great herds of buffalo and big cedar trees on the hills, vast expanses of sunflowers in bloom. Mary Richards, whose husband, Samuel, was on a mission in Scotland cheerfully sang of the comings and goings of the Saints at Winter Quarters, which was rightfully summarized by Brigham Young as the "Valley Forge of Mormondom", including such activities as theological discussions, dances, Church meetings, parties, and frontier revivals.

Amidst the thorns, there are always roses to sing about.

Next I share two songs that have no words but are so sweet and melodic that the absence of lyrics can hardly be noticed.

The first song was sung by Nellie Pucell, a handcart pioneer who, at the young age of 10, lost both of her parents on the journey west. At one point, in the bitter cold, with insufficient rations and no strength, Nellie and her sister Maggie collapsed with no hope of being able to continue any further. The leader of the company came to their aid, placed Nellie in the wagon and told Maggie to walk along beside it, holding on to steady herself. The forced movement saved Maggie from frostbite. When they finally arrived in Salt Lake City and Nellie's shoes were removed, the skin came off along with the stockings and the girl's feet were amputated. Nellie walked on her knees for the rest of her life. But Nellie's song continued through a normal life as she married and raised six children, keeping house and serving faithfully, never allowing her disability to be a hinderance.

I'm not sure what the title of Nellie's song should be. There are many titles that could and should be applied, but I think the music speaks for itself and could best be left Untitled. This next song without words is one of hope in a time of deepest mourning.

The Crandall family trekked west in the Summer of 1850. On the 23rd of June, the Crandall family numbered fifteen. By the week’s end seven had died of cholera. In the next few days five more family members died. Then on 30 June Sister Crandall died in childbirth along with her newborn baby. Of the fifteen that set out, only two survived the journey.

So why is this song about hope? What became of the two surviving family members? What kind of testimony did they gain as they chose to continue west, following a Prophet of God? What kind of legacy did they leave for their future posterity? There is always hope when we continue to sing when the melodies seem darkest.

Many years after the trials of the handcart pioneers, in a setting of sharp criticism toward the poor planning and leadership that led to the deaths of many, one survivor, whose experience may very well have been like that of the Crandalls or Nellie Pucell, stood and sang a solo that still reverberates in my heart.

"I was in that company and my wife was in it. … We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? … [We] came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our
extremities.

"I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it… I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.

"Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company."

This man's was a song of pure testimony. Where one might have stopped singing altogether, this brother chose to sing even louder. And, from his personal testimony, we learn that he never stopped singing. God gave this man his voice, but he made that voice sing.

There are so many voices that joined in melodious song of testimony, hope, endurance, sacrifice, faith, healing, and charity. One voice composed a simple, yet sweet tune of peace and comfort that has been echoed by millions whether during the brightest day or the darkest night.

This man was called to be in one of the first groups to leave Nauvoo. He left his wife, who was only one month away from delivering their first child, behind with her parents. As he wended his way through the mud and cold, his thoughts and worries were constantly on his beloved and his expected child. After two long months of waiting for news, he received word that he was the proud father of a "fine fat boy". Wasting no time, he sat down and wrote out his song of joy that has since become an anthem of inspiration and gratitude to pioneers of the plains and pioneers across the world. In his simple exclaimation "All is well! All is well!", countless Saints have found the joy and peace that are the rewards of sacrifice and obedience to a watchful Father in Heaven.

And so, if you feel that you are unable to compose your own masterpiece, be assured that you are indeed writing your own symphony of song. And as you carefully seek out your own words of testimony to put to music, you can simply join me and many others as we sing:

"No toil nor labor fear...
Grace shall be as your day...
Tis better far for us to strive...
Joy, your heart will swell...
Gird up your loins, fresh courage take...
We'll make the air with music ring, shout praises to our God and King...
Our God will never us forsake...
Happy day! All is well!"