(3rd Nephi 17:9)
By Benjamin Smith
A file formed to see the Christ,
Of maimed, of sick, of blind;
All hoping for a touch, a prayer,
A blessing to be made whole.
I wordlessly joined this ragged line
With head and eyes bent down
Hoping none would scrutinize, for,
No outward marks I bore.
“What do you, lad,” – a cripple spoke –
“Go home, rejoice; you’re whole!
“There’re many who need Him more than you;
“Why not let them go?”
Head still bowed I shuffled on,
But darkness ‘round my heart.
A voice so smooth near choked my mind,
Words seeming to be mine own.
“Why are you here?” – I felt it croak –
“There’s nothing He or you can do.
“It’s not worth going; you’ve failed for now.
“Later, try again.”
A consenting, defeated nod released,
I surrendered a bitter tear;
My feet turned back the way they’d come
When someone touched my arm –
FFF“My son,” – He spoke.
All tears came loose, a strong embrace;
I feared to let Him go; whispered –
“I know thy heart. I’ve walked thy path.
“So, go thy way; thy heart and mind be whole.”
“Believe in miracles. I have seen so many of them come when every other indication would say that hope was lost. Hope is never lost.”
(Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, “Like a Broken Vessel”, October 2013)