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O Give Me Back My Prophet Dear



O give me back my Prophet dear,

And Patriarch, O give them back;

The Saints of latter days to cheer,

And lead them in the gospel track.

But ah! they're gone from my embrace,

From earthly scenes their spirits fled;

Those two, the best of Adam's race,

Now lie entombed among the dead.

Ye men of wisdom tell me why,

When guilt nor crime in them were found,

Why now their blood doth loudly cry,

From prison walls, and Carthage ground

Your tongues are mute, but pray attend,

The secret I will now relate,

Why those whom God to earth did lend,

Have met the suffering martyr's fate.

It is because they strove to gain,

Beyond the grave a heaven of bliss;

Because they made the gospel plain,

And led the Saints in righteousness.

It is because God called them forth,

And led them by his own right hand

Christ's coming to proclaim on earth,

And gather Israel to their land.

It is because the priests of Baal

Were desperate their craft to save;

And when they saw it doomed to fail,

They sent the Prophets to the grave.

Like scenes the ancient Prophets saw,

Like these, the ancient Prophets fell;

And till the resurrection dawn,

Prophet and Patriarch—Fare thee well.

Times and Seasons, vol. 6 January 15, 1845—February 15, 1846 pg. 991