The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  “As the Saints were passing away from the meeting, Brother [Theodore] Turley said to Elders Page and Woodruff, ‘Stop a bit, while I bid Isaac Russell good bye;’ and knocking at the door, called Brother Russell. His wife answered, ‘Come in, it is Brother Turley.’ Russell replied, ‘It is not; he left here two weeks ago;’ and appeared quite alarmed; but on finding it was Brother Turley, asked him to sit down; but the latter replied, ‘I cannot, I shall lose my company.’ ‘Who is your company?’ enquired Russell. ‘The Twelve.’ ‘The Twelve!’ ‘Yes, don’t you know that this is the twenty-sixth, and the day the Twelve were to take leave of their friends on the foundation of the Lord’s House, to go to the islands of the sea? The revelation is now fulfilled, and I am going with them.’ Russell was speechless, and Turley bid him farewell.” (HC 3:339–40.)

  Chapter Six

  The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was organized on April sixth, 1830. Part of the instructions given to the Church on that day was that the Saints were to meet in conference on a regular basis. In these “general” conferences, where as many of the members were to be in attendance as possible, the business of the Church was to be conducted.

  The last conference of the Church had been held in early October 1838. At that time, the situation in northern Missouri was extremely tense. Joseph Smith, away from Far West on important Church business, was not at the conference, and neither were several other leaders. By mid-October, things were in a crisis; and then, in early November, Joseph Smith and the other members of the First Presidency were arrested and incarcerated. Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball held priesthood councils, but not regular conferences.

  It was not surprising, therefore, that one of the first things Joseph did after his return was to call for a general conference of the Church, the first to be held under the First Presidency’s direction since July of the year before. The dates were set for the fourth, fifth, and sixth of May. Perhaps never before had the Saints gathered in conference with greater joy. They were out of Missouri and sheltered by the kindness of the residents of western Illinois. Food, though not abundant, was at least adequate. Their leaders, save a few, had been freed and returned to them. And with all of that, spring had arrived in full blossom. The weather was warm, the air clear, and new life was in evidence everywhere. It was indeed a time for rejoicing.

  Joseph Smith stood at the north end of the large field known as the Presbyterian campground, which was a short distance outside of the town of Quincy, Illinois. The field was already half full as Benjamin Steed and his family arrived, and still the Saints streamed in behind them. They came mostly on foot, but a few from the more outlying areas rode in carriages, wagons, buggies, or carts. Joseph saw the Steeds immediately and waved, though he was thronged with well-wishers and greeters. Benjamin waved back; then, turning to Mary Ann, he pointed to an open spot not far from where Joseph was standing. “Let’s go up there,” he said wryly. “I know your hearing isn’t as good as it used to be.”

  Mary Ann looked startled for a minute; then as her family laughed, she chuckled too. Benjamin’s ears were just beginning to lose their sharpness, and it galled him terribly. To have him admit to it, even if it was in such an offhand way, was significant progress. “All right,” she teased him back. “If you’re sure that’s close enough for me.”

  There were eleven of them in all as they spread their blankets and settled in. Derek, Peter, and Matthew had returned with the Twelve and the last of the Saints from Missouri the day before, which brought the number of adults to eight. Only Nathan was not there. Jessica and Lydia had secured two girls from a neighbor to look after the smaller children, so there were only three there from the second generation—Jessica’s Rachel and Lydia’s Emily and young Joshua.

  Mary Ann looked around. The Saints who had arrived sat on the grass, they sat on stools, they sat on nearby doorsteps and porches. Some who lived closest had brought chairs. Many more stood, leaning against the side of a wagon, or just holding the reins of their teams, shifting their weight back and forth. But whatever their position or their comfort, the Saints had come to sit at the feet of their prophet, and they were ready to be taught. Here and there a baby fussed a little, but even smaller children seemed content to play quietly around their parents’ feet.

  A small table with three chairs was set just behind Joseph. This would be the pulpit. At 11:14, Joseph turned to Hyrum and to Sidney Rigdon and waved them to their chairs.

  “Good,” Derek said to Rebecca, “he’s going to start on time.” Derek admired promptness, but some Church members lacked the same attitude. And it irritated him when some of the leaders would then delay the beginning of the meeting to wait for the latecomers. He had once dourly observed to Peter that some of the greatest time wasters in the world were Mormons who came to a meeting on time.

  As the three members of the First Presidency took their seats and the crowd noise dropped off sharply, Benjamin was stirred deeply. The last time he had seen all three of these men together was lying on the floor, chained together, in a Richmond, Missouri, jail.

  At precisely 11:15, Joseph nudged Sidney and he stood and called the meeting to order. The quiet swept across the multitude as though someone were spreading out a blanket over the sound. Sidney raised his hands. “Brethren and sisters,” he cried, “how good it is to be assembled again with you in conference! I would propose that the first order of business be to appoint Joseph Smith, Junior, as the chairman of this conference. All in favor.”

  Thousands of hands lifted.

  “Any in opposition to that proposal?” He paused and looked around. Not a single hand went up. “Thank you. We shall sing a hymn and begin the meeting with prayer. Then our beloved Brother Joseph shall address us.”

  When Joseph arose after the hymn and the prayer, he rose slowly. It had not been quite two weeks since his return to the Saints, but already Benjamin could see the color and strength returning to him. He was still down at least ten or fifteen pounds from his normal weight, but the deep weariness and the gauntness were almost gone.

  Joseph looked out over the assembly as the quiet became even deeper. Then he smiled, a deep, broad smile of complete satisfaction. “Brothers and sisters,” he said loudly, so that his voice would carry. “I cannot tell you what feelings fill my heart at this moment as I look out upon your faces on this beautiful spring morning. I have much to say to you. I have longed for the opportunity to say it for many months now. At last, through the providence of the Lord, I am able to take fellowship with you. We—and I include all of us who were in prison these last months—thank you for your prayers in our behalf. Let us not forget to continue to pray for Brother Parley Pratt and his companions who are yet locked up in that miserable dungeon in Richmond. May the Lord soften the hearts of their enemies as he did the hearts of ours.”

  There was that quick boyish grin that was so much a part of him. “Even Governor Boggs couldn’t withstand the power of that many prayers, and we are free at last.”

  For a moment, Benjamin thought the congregation was going to burst into applause. One certainly felt like it, hearing Joseph again. Behind Joseph, Hyrum and Sidney were smiling at the warm spirit that permeated the crowd. Mary Ann leaned against Benjamin’s arm. “Isn’t it wonderful to have him back?” she murmured.

  Lydia, Jessica, and Rebecca all nodded along with Benjamin. It was wonderful!

  “I have much in my heart that I would like to say, but first an item of business.” He stopped and looked around, letting his gaze sweep across the buildings of the city which were visible from here. “We are filled with gratitude to the good people of Quincy and surrounding towns here in Illinois. They have opened their arms to our people. In dramatic contrast to the actions of the Missourians, they have accepted us with kindness and charity. We shall everlastingly be in their debt, and I hereby say that the angels of heaven have recorded their deeds for all the eternities to read.”

  Heads all over the congregation were bobbing up and
down. Because of the goodness of the people of Quincy, disaster had been averted. Lives had been spared. The Saints had respite.

  “But Quincy cannot be our home,” Joseph was saying now. “Our numbers are too great, our needs too numerous. We must have a place we can call our own. We must have a place where the Saints can gather.” His eyes took on a certain fierceness now. “God is not through with this people yet. He has a great work for us yet to perform. Many of you still live in the most wretched of conditions. You have no homes. You have no possessions. You live out in the sun and sleep under the stars. And that is not God’s will for us.”

  “In the nearly ten years since this church was organized,” Joseph cried, “we have seen it swell in numbers. There are now thousands of the Latter-day Saints. But this is only a beginning of our destiny. As Daniel foresaw almost twenty-five centuries ago, this church is the stone which is cut out of the mountain without hands, and”—he punched each word now with great emphasis—“it will roll forth until it fills the whole earth! Write it down, brothers and sisters! This work is just beginning, and we must carry it forward. We must continue to send our missionaries throughout the world, even in our poverty and want, to proclaim the gospel to all that will hear. And we must have a place where we can build a temple—”

  He stopped, and let the ripples of shock spread across the group. “That’s right,” he smiled. “God has great things to give us, and only in his house can those things come. It will take great sacrifice and great effort on our part, just as it did in Kirtland, but we shall have a house of the Lord! And we must gather together so we can build that house. We must bring scattered Israel from the four corners of the earth so that we can the better accomplish the work and will of God.”

  Benjamin was watching Sidney Rigdon closely now. His head was down and he was staring at the ground. Good! Sidney had come home from his imprisonment several weeks earlier. Immediately he began preaching against gathering. It was collecting into large groups that brought down the wrath of the non-Mormons upon them, he said. They must scatter to be safe. It had irritated Benjamin considerably because he was almost certain Sidney did not speak for Joseph on this matter. Nor for the Lord.

  “As you know,” Joseph went on, “three days after Hyrum and I returned to you, some of the brethren and I went north looking for a place of our own. And we have found one.”

  Now there was an open buzz of excitement and Joseph had to stop. He waited for it to quiet again, then went on. “We have found a little settlement forty or fifty miles to the north of here called Commerce. Isaac Galland, whom many of you know, has been most valuable in helping us locate land for sale at Commerce and across the river in Iowa Territory. We think the site in the Commerce area, with the blessing of heaven to the Saints, has much promise. It nestles in an elbow of the Mississippi, where the river makes a wide, sweeping bend to the west. This means that our site is bounded by the river on three sides. It is a most beautiful setting.”

  Matthew was nodding. The day before, he had seen Brother Hyrum at the blacksmith’s shop, and Hyrum told him about the sites that Joseph and the others had visited. But Matthew was also a little surprised at the announcement, for Hyrum said there was only one stone house and a few log cabins at Commerce and that much of the site was impassable swampland.

  “Brothers and sisters,” Joseph said, raising his voice even higher, “I tell you here and now that it is the will of the Lord that we gather to our new home. We are to build a city there. We are to show the world that we have not been beaten down, that we still hold up the banner of liberty to all comers, and that we still worship our God in accordance with his command.”

  Emma Smith sat on the front row with her two oldest children. Joseph looked down at her and smiled. “Sister Emma and I will be moving to Commerce immediately after the close of this conference. We hope all others will follow our example as soon as they are able.”

  He stopped for a moment, and his countenance gradually became more somber, though it was not in any way sad. “And now, my dear friends, I feel to address you on some other matters, matters pertaining to our recent imprisonment and other events that have befallen our people.” There was a quick, rueful expression. “I have had much time to rehearse what I would like to say to you this morning. The bedbugs and the cockroaches and the mice who inhabit Liberty Jail are perhaps the most preached to creatures on earth right now.”

  He let the laughter roll, his eyes moving slowly across the faces of the people he loved and who loved him. He turned to Hyrum. “There is no finer people on earth,” he said in a voice loud enough for those nearest him to hear. “No finer.” Hyrum nodded vigorously in agreement.

  As it quieted again, Joseph turned back. “The reports of your sufferings were almost more than we could bear. Oh, how we longed to stand with you in those trying circumstances! But it was not the Lord’s will that it should be so. We were in the hands of a hardened people in whom there was to be found very little justice or mercy.”

  Now there was a quick flash of anger in his eyes. “All the threats, murders, and robberies which the officers of the state of Missouri have been guilty of are entirely overlooked by the executive of the state, who, to hide his own iniquity, must of course shield and protect those whom he employed to carry into effect his murderous purposes. But notwithstanding their determination to destroy me and those imprisoned with me, and although at three different times we were sentenced to be shot and had the time and place appointed for that purpose, yet through the mercy of God, in answer to the prayers of the Saints, we have been preserved and delivered out of their hands. Once again we enjoy the society of our friends and brethren, whom we love, and to whom we feel united in bonds that are stronger than death. And the Saints now reside in a state where I believe the laws are respected, and whose citizens are humane and charitable.

  “During the time I was in the hands of my enemies, I felt great anxiety respecting my family and friends, who were so inhumanly treated and abused, and who had to mourn the loss of their husbands and children who had been slain—”

  His voice cut off abruptly and he let his eyes sweep across the congregation, singling out specific individuals. Here was Jessica Griffith, sitting with the Steeds, now a widow because of the events at Haun’s Mill. A few feet away was Amanda Smith—a husband and one son dead, another boy with a hip blown away by a mobber’s rifle. Further on was Sister Patten, wife of David W. Patten, the President of the Quorum of the Twelve who had been shot at Crooked River and died a short time later. There was John Page, another Apostle. He had buried a wife and two children in Far West, martyrs of a different kind as they succumbed to bitter cold and starvation conditions. There wasn’t a soul in the whole congregation who didn’t know firsthand the things about which Joseph was speaking.

  Joseph went on more slowly now, his voice heavy with emotion. “I have felt great anxiety for those who, after having been robbed of nearly all that they possessed, were driven from their homes, and forced to wander as strangers in a strange country. Yet, despite these anxieties, with regard to the situation that my fellow prisoners and I were in I felt calm, resigned to the will of our Heavenly Father. He has saved us frequently from the gates of death and given us deliverance. And notwithstanding that every avenue of escape seemed to be entirely closed, and death stared us in the face, and that our destruction was determined upon—as far as man was concerned—yet, from our first entrance into the enemy’s camp, I felt an assurance that I, with my brethren and our families, should be delivered.

  “Yes, that still small voice, which has so often whispered consolation to our souls, in the depths of sorrow and distress, bade us be of good cheer, and promised deliverance. As you can imagine, this gave us great comfort. And although the heathen raged, and the people imagined vain things, yet the Lord of Hosts, the God of Jacob, was our refuge; and when we cried unto him in the day of trouble, he delivered us. For this, I call upon my soul, and all that is within me, to bless and praise his h
oly name.”

  “Amen!” someone cried.

  “Amen!” responded Joseph heartily.

  “Amen!” the congregation roared as one voice.

  Rebecca shifted her weight, feeling the hardness of the ground beneath her. “Can I lay my head on your lap?” she asked Derek in a tiny whisper.

  “Of course.” He helped her stretch out, getting her awkward bigness comfortable again. When she was settled she looked up into his eyes and smiled at him. How glad she was to have him back again. Now the baby could come anytime. She was no longer concerned.

  “The conduct of the Saints,” Joseph continued, “under their accumulated wrongs and sufferings, has been most praiseworthy. Your courage in defending your brethren from the ravages of the mobs; your attachment to the cause of truth under circumstances that were the most trying and distressing which humanity can possibly endure; your love for each other; your readiness to afford assistance to me and my brethren who were confined in a dungeon; your sacrifices in leaving Missouri, and assisting the poor widows and orphans, and securing them houses in a more hospitable land—all of these conspire to raise you in the estimation of all good and virtuous men. And all of these have secured for you the favor and approbation of Jehovah, and a name as imperishable as eternity. Your virtuous deeds and heroic actions while in defense of truth and your brethren will be fresh and blooming when the names of your oppressors shall be either entirely forgotten or only remembered for their barbarity and cruelty.”

  Lydia looked down at her children. Emily was playing with the grass at the edge of the quilt, her attention waning, but young Joshua was sitting with his legs crossed, leaning forward, watching Joseph with complete concentration. She reached out and touched his hair. He glanced at her, smiled, then immediately turned back to follow Joseph’s words. Lydia watched him proudly. He was so like Nathan, this son of hers. Serious, reflective, and so committed to doing whatever the Lord asked of him. She felt a wave of gratitude and wished Nathan were here so she could tell him that.