Who knew? Jordan belted out "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" and blew us all away!
After a talk which was eloquent (as usual), and filled with poetry (thanks, Ms. Richards!), it was a huge shock to ALL of us to hear Jordan sing the way he did. I always enjoyed his strumming his ukulele and singing old Beatles, John Denver, James Taylor and folk songs with me, but today...WOW.
That shock was closely followed by the attendance of the Denver Stamps family. What a special treat. I just about squealed when I saw Reilly! The Spanish Fork Smileys--even "the newleyweds"--surprised us. It was so great having so much family there with us. Pat, Kent, Sheri, Auntie "B," cousin Amanda, Uncle Ben, Uncle Robert...so awesome!
The Summit Academy High School was well represented as well. We were so pleased to see Mrs. Mangelson, Mrs. Richards, Ms. Park, and both Turnbows! The entire front row was filled with friends from school, even more were hiding in the rear overflow... The cute kids asked me if they could kidnap Jordan and have an impromptu farewell party. After pictures with family and best wishes from many ward members, he slipped off into the "friends" zone.
We are so blessed.
During Jordan's talk, he spoke to folks who are new to The Church and those who have been members of the Church their entire lives. He reached out to all in attendance--even his friends who are not of our faith. Many tears were shed when he testified of the Plan of Salvation. We all thought of loved ones who have gone before us, but whom we plan to see again.
I was enchanted when Jordan gave recognition to our Mother in Heaven. Thanks, love!
These are the texts that Jordan read or sang. Enjoy.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
We are Seven
By William Wordsworth
———A simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
—Her beauty made me glad.
“Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?”
“How many? Seven in all,” she said,
And wondering looked at me.
“And where are they? I pray you tell.”
She answered, “Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
“Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother.”
“You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be.”
Then did the little Maid reply,
“Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree.”
“You run about, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five.”
“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”
The little Maid replied,
“Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.
“My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
“And often after sun-set, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
“The first that dies was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
“So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
“And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side.”
“How many are you, then,” said I,
“If they two are in heaven?”
Quick was the little Maid’s reply,
“O Master! we are seven.”
“But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!”
’Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, “Nay, we are seven!”
Come thou fount of every blessing
by Robert RobinsonCome thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
And teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
I'll praise the Mount I'm fixed upon it
Mount of Thy redeeming love
Here I raise my Ebenezer
Hither by Thy help I come
Oh, and I hope by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
Oh Jesus, sought me when a stranger
Wandering from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood
Ode to grace, how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be
And let Thy goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above.
The Fly
by William Blake
Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
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