789 and 791

Embedded in the soil, far from light,

the seed still worked—alone. Alone. Alone.

But hid behind a lightless door, the night

of man was hid behind a rough hewn stone.

Within a lush place, far from any eye,

a man prayed all alone. Alone. Alone.

But in that darkened prayer, the man could spy

all things, and still all things chose to atone.

And then the seed shot upward—bathed in Sun,

one sprout began—alone. Alone. Alone.

But tho the sprig be singular, just one,

an endless harvest of its fruit would hone.

And once raised up upon a mocking throne,

the Vine wrought fruit, and did it all alone.

~~~

To CSL and 1 Nephi 8:

Good people laughed. Even the ones who said

that none should mock, even a little, at

the failures of men. Still, they laughed instead

at what they saw, and no-one stopped, at that.

You’d think they’d realize their reaction,

and stay their weakness. But, I tell you, no—

no man could tell that he was the faction

that prayed against the poor publican so.

And he who was so scorned saw once again

the world that never wanted to embrace

him sinning, so he went it once more, then,

trusting the love of men less than sin’s grace.

And sin’s grace held him. For, within its core,

the only One who never laughed, it bore.