The young man walked down the city street
In a strange land, with his own so far away.
And his newness clashed with the echo of
Horse carts and cobblestone streets.
And he preached of a better world,
To those who loved their own.
And he prayed,
“Oh Lord, let my good be known”
But no one understood.
The young man trudged down the country lane
And gazed at humble fold.
Their back bent ‘neath the heavy load,
And vaguely sensed the meaning of eternal days.
And he prayed,
“Oh Lord, help me to do my best”
And a few, then understood.
The young man stopped in the pitted road,
No stranger now, still searching those paths to roam.
And somehow a little older he became;
And in his heart he sang, “This place is home”
And he preached the brotherhood of man, and
Peace and love and charity.
And he prayed,
“Oh Lord, that I may be worthy of such as these in some far eternity”
And lo, he understood.
This poem was sent to me by one of my returned missionaries...
I cry every time I read it.
Thanks Elder Andersen
