Gospel Story Finder

Tony loved trucks. He would sit on his front porch step and watch them pass his house. He saw a big yellow _________ carrying somebody’s furniture. Then he saw a green _________ pass by with its mixer turning. Mr. Jones drove by in his orange _________ loaded with firewood. A red _________ raced by, screeching its siren. Soon a letter carrier came down the street and stopped his white _________ in front of Tony’s house. The letter carrier walked up to Tony, holding a big brown box.
“Are you Tony Brown?” asked the letter carrier.
“Yes,” said Tony.
“Then this box is for you.”
Tony took the box into the house and opened it. Inside was a big blue _________ that he could use to haul and dump sand in his sandbox. He also found a card that said:
“Happy Birthday, Tony.Love, Grandma.”

As members of the Church enter the London Temple, immediately ahead of them is a reception desk. To the right of this desk, a painting shows a row of buildings in the distance with a bridge in the foreground. The stone bridge crosses the river Monnow and is the way into the little castle town of Skenfrith near Abergavenny.
The river is quite deep in places, and the right-hand side looking from the Bell Inn has steps leading down to the river.
This is the place where the first recorded convert baptism in South Wales, of James W. Palmer, took place on 13 April 1840. The baptism was performed by Wilford Woodruff, one of the Quorum of the Twelve, then serving as a missionary in the British Isles.
James W. Palmer kept a journal while serving as a missionary after his baptism. It includes the following entry in November 1840: “I preached at Skenfrith.” A later journal entry reads, “We now visited Skenfrith again… On Monday I baptised John Preece and William Williams in the river Monnow”.
Thus the story comes full circle, as the first convert to be baptised into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Skenfrith is subsequently instrumental in the conversion and baptism of further converts, there in the river Monnow.

Ron’s hobby requires that he use his imagination to make ordinary items appear to be something else. For example, the first project Ron built was a model grainery. He needed something to look like miniature corrugated metal siding. He gave it some thought, then used aluminum foil laid on top of some corduroy material and pressed into ridges with a fine-toothed comb. The result had the look of corrugated iron.

He flashes his tongue.
I stare at him.
His hypnotic gaze is watchful,
Hungrily awaiting my first move.
I seize the back of his head.
The smooth black scales are cool to my touch.
He twists and turns, but to no avail;
Until he silently acknowledges, I am the master.

From the beginning, Abram wondered about the stories behind some of his discoveries. He tried looking in the library for information—nothing. He asked other people—no luck. His mom then called a professional archaeologist. Ron Rood, the assistant state archaeologist, came to Abram’s house. He was so impressed with nine-year-old Abram’s questions and notes about the discoveries that he invited Abram to a state dig site where he put Abram in charge of sketching. Abram has continued to work with Rood on other projects. This past summer, while working on a dig, Abram found a 1,000-year-old arrowhead. Now Abram regularly helps in Utah’s state archaeology lab.

Nothing important had ever happened to Little Brave. He had never found a beautiful rock with a yellow streak like Yellow Rock Finder had found. He had never run a race like Fast Runner had run. He had never sat quietly for a very long time watching butterflies as Butterfly Watcher had done.
“No Name! No Name! Little Brave No Name!” the other boys often chanted as they circled around Little Brave. Then Little Brave would drop his head and clench his hands and wait until he had a chance to get away.
One day Little Brave No Name went to his grandfather’s lodge to hide. Grandfather was not there, but hanging on posts were many masks the wise old man had carved from wood. One very fierce face lay on a log near the entrance. It had great big eyes and a long pointed nose.
Little Brave picked up the mask and swung it by the rawhide laces. As it moved back and forth, Little Brave No Name said, “I wish I could, I wish I could—” Suddenly he stopped swinging the mask and cried, “I will!” Then he ran quickly out of Grandfather’s lodge with the mask in his hand.
The boy hid the mask at the edge of the woods and hurried back to his own lodge. There he found a tough piece of smoked deer meat and placed it in the beaded pouch he wore at his waist. Then he returned to the woods.
Little Brave put the mask on his face and tied the rawhide laces firmly behind his head. “Now,” he whispered, “I will go out and find a name! I will scare some creature so much it will not be able to move. Then I will grab it and take it home to the chanting boys.”
The eyes in the mask were so far apart, Little Brave couldn’t see very well out of the eyeholes. He stepped carefully along the forest path, and with one eye he searched the bushes and trees. Little Brave crouched low so that the mask was very close to the bushes.
Suddenly a rabbit jumped in front of him. Little Brave stopped and moved his head slowly from right to left. The rabbit stopped and looked at Little Brave. The rabbit’s nose quivered and its eyes blinked excitedly. Then its ears stood straight up, and with a wild jump the rabbit leaped away.
Little Brave laughed. “Ki, yie! The long-eared one is very frightened. But I will not chase him. I would not want to be named for a rabbit.”
Now the forest seemed very still to Little Brave. “I hear no birds. I see no bees. Perhaps they know a fearful face is walking in the woods and they are hiding.”
A noisy chattering broke out beside the trial, and a fluffy-tailed gray squirrel scolded from a branch of a tree.
“The bright-eyed one is not afraid, because he is safe high up in the tree. Oh, well, I do not want to be called Little Brave Squirrel.”
Soon Little Brave came upon a round bushy fellow slowly moving through the forest.
I will scare Mr. Porcupine! thought Little Brave as he left the trial and moved around through the bushes. Then Little Brave hunched himself together and moved his masked head slowly before the porcupine. “Boo-boo! Googy-boo!” he hissed in a deep scary voice.
The porcupine stopped. It slowly raised its head and looked at the big mask. It hesitated just a moment and then put its head down again and started forward, straight for the mask and Little Brave.
Little Brave did not want to feel the prickly quills of that animal. “A porcupine is an honorable animal,” he whispered, “but I would not want to be called Sticky One, so I will let it go. I will leave the trial and go through the thick woods to find a better animal to scare.”
Traveling through the woods was not as easy as walking on the trial.
It was very still in the woods. A stick cracked under his feet, and Little Brave stumbled. Down he went, and the fierce-looking mask tumbled off his face.
He moved over beside a big log and hung the mask on a dead limb. Little Brave reached into his beaded pouch for the smoked deer meat. I will eat a little and then I will return the mask to Grandfather’s lodge, he decided.
As Little Brave ate, he watched an ant crawl from under the log and stop to twitch its feelers in every direction. The boy broke off a small piece of meat and put it before the ant. He watched as the ant worked to carry the tiny bit away.
Then Little Brave heard a twig snap. He turned just in time to see a golden fox reach its head through the loop made by the laces of the mask and snap up the rest of the meat off the log. As the fox drew its head back through the loop, the mask dislodged from the twig and the loop fell around its neck. As the mask dropped to the fox’s chest, the animal gave a startled yelp, whirled around, and then ran off through the forest.
“Come back!” screamed Little Brave. “That is Grandfather’s mask! Come back!”
Little Brave had taken the mask without permission, and he knew that his grandfather would be very angry if it were not returned. “Come back with that mask!” cried Little Brave as he ran after the fox.
Over logs, through brush, and out into meadows went the golden fox. Finally it ran beside the river, where Yellow Rock Finder, Fast Runner, and Owl Catcher were splashing in a swimming hole.
The boys gasped in surprise when they saw the fox dart from the woods with Little Brave chasing right behind the animal and yelling at the top of his voice!
When the fox and boy disappeared, Fast Runner cried, “Did you see that? Little Brave No Name has put a mask on a swift fox, and now he is chasing the golden one!”
“I can’t believe it!” Yellow Rock Finder exclaimed. “I did not know Little Brave had such courage!”
“Let’s hurry to the village!” suggested Owl Catcher, who was anxious to tell what he had seen.
Before long the fox grew tired. In one last effort to be rid of the mask, it jumped into a thicket and rolled in the brush. The stout rawhide strings held, but the mask moved up over the fox’s head and settled tightly about its eyes and nose.
There Little Brave No Name found the animal lying, defeated by the mask.
“Poor fellow,” said Little Brave. “How you run! But do not fear, for I will help you get the mask off. I know how it feels.”
Then Little Brave knelt down and worked the mask from the fox’s head. As soon as the mask was free, the golden fox darted away.
Little Brave No Name started back to the Indian village with the battered and scratched mask in his hand. “Grandfather will be angry, but he will not be nearly as angry as if I had lost the mask,” he said to himself.
As soon as the villagers saw Little Brave No Name coming, they all went out to meet him. Little Brave looked down at the ground and dug his toes into the soft earth as he waited to hear Grandfather scold him.
But instead of angry words, Little Brave heard Grandfather say, “Little Brave, though you took a mask without permission, I am not going to scold you. The boys have told us you were chasing a golden fox in the forest—a fox wearing a mask. No one will ever question your secret magic, for now you no longer are a brave without a name. You have proved your right to a name that is for you alone. From now on you will be called Fierce Fox Chaser!”
So that’s how the name of Little Brave No Name was changed to Fierce Fox Chaser. And always he was kind to the creatures of the woods, but he was especially kind to golden foxes.

While visiting teachers no longer collect donations, they do retain the responsibility to assess needs—spiritual and temporal—and to work to meet those needs. Eliza R. Snow (1804–87), second Relief Society general president, explained: “A teacher … should surely have so much of the Spirit of the Lord, as she enters a house to know what spirit she meets in there. … Plead before God and the Holy Ghost to get [the Spirit] so that you will be able to meet that spirit that prevails in that house … and you may feel to talk words of peace and comfort, and if you find a sister feeling cold, take her to your heart as you would a child to your bosom and warm [her] up.”5

Elder George A. Smith, an Apostle, received counsel from the Prophet Joseph Smith at a time of great difficulty: “He told me I should never get discouraged, whatever difficulties might surround me. If I was sunk in the lowest pit of Nova Scotia and all the Rocky Mountains piled on top of me, I ought not to be discouraged but hang on, exercise faith, and keep up good courage and I should come out on the top of the heap at last.”

Not long ago President Eyring’s home teacher, Brother Moore, challenged him to get out and meet the people around the campus. President Eyring knew it was a good idea but, due to his concern over new changes and programs that were being explored and researched, he was a little slow to accept the challenge. Not long after receiving the first challenge, President Eyring received a call from Brother Moore. In his voice there was an apparent sense of urgency. “Have you made your visit?” he asked. President Eyring replied that he had not but that he had set aside some time for it in the next week. Brother Moore’s voice lowered and he said, “President, you had better not wait. I’ve been told twice now that you should be out there.” Nothing further needed to be said. President Eyring was out on campus that day. The priorities of the president of Ricks College were literally changed by the spirit and caring of a humble but dutiful home teacher. And the results? The president has had incredible experiences that have brought him closer to the pulse of Ricks College. Now he spends one morning every week just walking and moving about the campus to find out more about his stewardship.

A man came in to see me some time ago. He was in his 40s, I suppose, and he said, “Brother Dunn, I want to tell you a story.” As a child, he grew up in a poor family. He said he was eight before he knew what the taste of fresh milk was because his family was so poor they bought canned milk and mixed it with water to make it go further. He told of how he went down to the welfare agency with his sister one fall, and they issued two girls’ coats to them. All they had left were girls’ coats. As he got into his teenage years, he began to work very hard, and for a boy who didn’t have anything, the greatest desire of his life was a new car. He wanted a 1947 Chevrolet. It was a great obsession with him—he wanted that car. So he worked and sacrificed until he had enough for a down payment, and he got his car.

After sacrament meeting one Sunday, the bishop came up to him and his friend and said, “I’d like to see both of you for a few minutes in my office.” First, his friend went in, and the bishop said, “We’d like you to prepare to go into the mission field.” They talked about it for awhile, and finally the boy said, “Yes, Bishop, I’ll prepare myself to go.” And then this boy went in next, and the bishop asked him also to prepare for a mission. His answer was, “Bishop, I can’t go on a mission; I’m buying a car.” The car was the greatest thing in his life.

He then said, “You know, Brother Dunn, that’s not the end of the story. One thing or another came up, and I never did go. As the years went on, I used to go to elders’ quorum meetings, and I’d sit next to those returned missionaries. I don’t know if they knew any more than I did, but I thought they did. And I felt a little bit uncomfortable sitting with them in those meetings because I didn’t feel that I knew as much about the gospel as they did.” Whether he did or not, at least that’s how he felt. He said, “As time went on, I began to realize the bad decision I had made and how it stays with you. It got so that every time I’d see a 1947 Chevrolet it would give me a black feeling inside because it represented to me a decision I made that took me away from the Lord and, in the long run, hurt me. And to this day, I can’t see such a car without remembering that experience, and I ache inside because of it. The car didn’t last. The benefits of a mission go on forever.”

A Scout council was accustomed to arranging its summer camp schedule so that the Scouts were moving to the camp on one Sabbath and returning home from camp on the next Sabbath. Latter-day Saint youth were being deprived of religious activities for two successive Sundays. A friendly suggestion to the council authorities brought about a change, so that the camp period ran from Friday to Friday. The Sunday in between was planned so that there were religious services offered for the boys who were in the camp.

An early lesson in honesty was taught a boy many years ago by his father. When he was just a young lad, he went to the store owned by his father and two business partners and, wanting a pocketknife, proceeded to take one from the display case. Word got to the boy’s father. The father took the lad back to the case and had him replace the knife. Then he pointed out that he had two other partners in the business, and two-thirds of the pocketknife belonged to them. It was not the boy’s privilege, as his son, to take anything from the company because it was not all his. This father was honest and upright in his dealings; he was a man of integrity. When he made a bargain or a deal, he kept it regardless of what the cost to him might be. His reputation was for fairness with people. To him this attribute was more important than money.

Illustration by Bradley Clark
Because of old plumbing and an unsound foundation, my childhood home flooded whenever a storm produced enough rain. Because storms in Virginia, USA, can last for hours, water invaded frequently.
We lived in that home during most of my growing-up years, so I thought flooding was normal.
After several storms, we improved our flood-fighting tactics and learned to work together. Storms often hit in the middle of the night, and my parents would wake us all up to work at our posts as the water encroached through the basement like slow-moving lava. My brother and father would bucket out the stairwell while my sister and I quickly sopped up water with towels to save the carpet.
We giggled as we jumped and danced on those towels, feeling the squishy wetness between our toes and through our pajama legs. Mom hurriedly wrung out the drenched towels, hurled them into the dryer, and brought new ones fresh for stomping. When we were satisfied the house was safe, we went to the kitchen to dry off and enjoy hot cocoa and cookies for our labors. Then, if it wasn’t yet time for school, we would try to go back to sleep.
Whenever my childhood home would flood, my brother and father would bucket out the stairwell while my sister and I quickly sopped up water with towels.
These floods must have given my parents great anxiety, but I remember them as some of the happiest moments of my childhood, even with the booming thunder and the flashing lightning. In fact, the smell of wet carpet still makes me nostalgic for family time.
My parents could have fought the flooding alone, but I’m so glad they employed all of us in defense of our home. Fighting the water was a joyous event because we were together and we each played a part.
Now that I am grown, I think about those days and wonder how I can create the same joy of working together in my own children. Though grateful that my home does not flood, I know that something unwanted will inevitably encroach upon our family.
No matter what trouble my family may deal with in the future, I hope we stay together and work together in defending our values, our faith, and each other. Then perhaps, even in adversity, we can laugh, smile, and feel happy as we labor side by side.

Living honestly is also important in our lives. Once, when I was in charge of a huge project in Italy, the people I worked with encouraged me to do something dishonest. “Everyone does it,” my coworkers said. “It’s just the way things are done.” Maybe what they were saying was true. But I refused to do something I knew was wrong. We decided together to do the honest, right thing, and our project was successful.

A motorcycle accident left Wilson paralyzed. A year later his wife passed away. As a widower with two little girls, Wilson did not know what to do. He didn’t know if there was a purpose in life. Wilson could have become bitter. Instead, he began searching for truth.
Cody Bell, photographer
After my motorcycle accident and the loss of my wife, I was left with two little girls to raise. I really didn’t know how I was going to raise my daughters in a wheelchair. This accident completely changed my life.
I had many questions. Why do bad things happen? I was going along trying to do the right things, and my wife was taken from me and I was left in a wheelchair. Then doctors had to operate on my daughter’s head to remove a tumor. I began to think that there was no purpose in life.
I realized that I needed to find the truth. I investigated various religions and found The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I felt that it was the truth.
I learned that there is a life after this one, and when we die, it is possible to be with the ones we love. This brought me joy because of the 10 beautiful years that I had had with my wife.
Finding the gospel changed my life in every sense. I began to have peace of mind and peace of conscience. Happiness entered my family as we went to church every Sunday. We came home strengthened. We were baptized and eventually sealed for all eternity in the temple in Argentina.
Now I keep moving forward in the Church. I’ve served as a counselor in the bishopric, and I try to learn from all of my experiences, from all of life’s tests. This gives me strength. As I’ve been sitting in a wheelchair for more than 20 years, I’ve learned that happiness comes from inside. One learns more every day. For that I feel grateful.
I now know that there is a purpose for being on earth. We are here as part of Heavenly Father’s eternal plan. We have a Savior who overcame death and was resurrected. Knowing this gives me strength. Now, I strive to persevere and continue forward. I have a purpose and I know that as I try to live a worthy life, I can have an eternal family.
Despite the challenges Wilson and his daughter Sofia face, the gospel brings them peace, happiness, and strength. Sofia has lived with her father since her surgery. Wilson finds joy serving in the Church.
Cooking as he maneuvers a wheelchair around the kitchen is one of many skills Wilson has developed since an accident left him paraplegic.
Wilson finds hope and strength from the Savior as he studies the scriptures.
Missionaries join the Di Paula family for dinner. Wilson’s love of the gospel is a strength in his family and to the Church.
After a serious accident and the death of his wife, Wilson questioned the purpose of life. He found purpose when found the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Wilson and Sofia find hope in the gospel. Spending more than 20 years in a wheelchair hasn’t stopped Wilson from serving in meaningful ways.
Wilson’s smile gives evidence of the spiritual abundance in his life. “Happiness comes from inside,” Wilson says. “One learns more every day.”
As they eat together, the Di Paula family shares more than food with the missionaries, they also share their love and gratitude for the gospel.

One beautiful night in April 1972, Elders McIntire and Richards knocked on my door. At that time my wife and I were searching for answers to many questions that confused and troubled us.
The powerful testimonies of those two representatives of the Lord deeply touched our souls. A marvelous new feeling filled our hearts. We received our answers.
Our first visit to church helped our testimonies grow because of the Spirit there and the love those people showed us. Their messages and testimonies confirmed that we had found the true Church.
We attended the meetings with respect and reverence, but we postponed baptism because we feared a negative reaction from our families.
During that time, the district of Rio de Janeíro held its quarterly conference. A strong spirit filled the hall. Brother Val Carter, a counselor to the mission president, spoke, declaring his complete dependence on Christ for salvation and exaltation.
A miracle occurred in that moment. The Holy Ghost reconfirmed the truthfulness of the gospel, and our fears vanished. On July 2, 1972, my wife and I and our eldest son, Marcus, entered the fold through the gates of baptism.
Since then, our families and friends have come to respect the Church. My sister Ivette and some of our best friends have accepted baptism.
What made these miracles possible? The testimonies of faithful Saints upon which I was temporarily dependent. They prepared my mind and heart to receive a full confirmation of the Holy Ghost.

When our oldest daughter, Jen, brought her third daughter home from the hospital, I went to her home to help. After getting her oldest daughter off to school, we decided that what Jen needed most was rest. So the best help I could give was to take her daughter Chloe home with me so her mom and new baby sister could have some quiet time.
I buckled Chloe into her car seat, secured my own seat belt, and drove out of their driveway. However, before we reached the end of the street, Chloe had unbuckled her seat belt and was standing up, looking over my shoulder, and talking to me! I pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out, and buckled her back into her seat.
We started again but had gone only a short distance when she was out of her seat again. I repeated the same steps, but this time before I could even get back into the car and fasten my own seat belt, Chloe was already standing up!
I found myself sitting in a car, parked on the side of the road, having a power struggle with a three-year-old. And she was winning!
I used every idea I could think of to convince her that remaining fastened in her car seat was a good idea. She was not convinced! I finally decided to try the if–then approach.
I said, “Chloe, if you will stay buckled in your car seat, then as soon as we get to Grandma’s house, we can play with play dough.”
No response.
“Chloe, if you will stay buckled in your seat, then we can make bread when we get to Grandma’s house.”
No response.
I tried again. “Chloe, if you will stay buckled in your seat, then we can stop at the market for a treat!”
After three attempts, I realized this was a futile exercise. She was determined, and no amount of if–then was enough to convince her to remain fastened in her seat.
We couldn’t spend the day sitting on the edge of the road, but I wanted to be obedient to the law, and it wasn’t safe to drive with Chloe standing up. I offered a silent prayer and heard the Spirit whisper, “Teach her.”
I turned to face her and pulled my seat belt away from my body so she could see it. I said, “Chloe, I am wearing this seat belt because it will protect me. But you aren’t wearing your seat belt, and you won’t be safe. And I will be so sad if you get hurt.”
She looked at me; I could almost see the wheels turning in her little mind as I waited anxiously for her response. Finally, her big blue eyes brightened, and she said, “Grandma, you want me to wear my seat belt because you love me!”
The Spirit filled the car as I expressed my love for this precious little girl. I didn’t want to lose that feeling, but I knew I had an opportunity, so I got out and secured her in her car seat. Then I asked, “Chloe, will you please stay in your car seat?” And she did—all the way to the market for a treat! And she stayed buckled all the way from the market to my home, where we made bread and played with play dough because Chloe did not forget!
As I drove back onto the road that day, a scripture filled my mind: “If ye love me, keep my commandments.” We have rules to teach, guide, and protect children. Why? Because of the great love we have for them. But until Chloe understood that my desire for her to remain securely fastened in her car seat was because of my love for her, she was unwilling to submit to what she considered a restriction. She felt her seat belt limited her freedom.
Third, trust the whisperings of the Spirit. Remember during my experience with Chloe that the Spirit whispered a scripture to me? It is in John 14:15: “If ye love me, keep my commandments.” And these important verses follow:

While driving alone for long distances, I enjoy listening to Handel’s Messiah and other sacred music that uses the scriptures as the text. This music has always brought deep emotions for the Savior to my heart.
Many years ago, a friend presented me with a recording of Franz Joseph Haydn’s oratorio called The Seven Last Words of Christ on the Cross. This oratorio came to my mind again more recently as I was reading and pondering anew the gospel accounts of the Savior’s Crucifixion, attempting to better understand His death. I gained further appreciation for the final earthly moments of our beloved Redeemer while reading Psalms 115–18, which Elder Bruce R. McConkie (1915–85) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles suggested must have been sung by the Savior in His last Passover. Both Haydn and Elder McConkie organize the last mortal utterings of the Son of God in the same chronological order, which I will follow here.1

Vincent Poulaert (11) did not always know that Jesus Christ is the Savior, that He and Heavenly Father love him, and that his prayers would be answered. But he knows it now.
Early each morning the Poulaert family reads the scriptures together. Last year they were reading from the Book of Mormon. One day they read about Jesus Christ calling the little children to Him. Sister Poulaert loves this passage of scripture and asked her children if they each had a testimony of Jesus Christ. Everyone said yes—except Vincent. “I was pleased that Vincent would be so honest,” Sister Poulaert said, “but I was concerned also. I asked him if he knew how to get a testimony, and he said he did.”
Some of Vincent’s family teased him about not having a testimony. That helped him decide to do all that he could to learn if Jesus Christ was the Savior. During the next week he studied scriptures about Jesus Christ and prayed about what he had read. The following Sunday his family noticed that he wasn’t eating. They asked him if anything was wrong.
“No,” he said. “Today I’m fasting and praying for a testimony.” It was hard for Vincent to fast all day, but he did it. That afternoon, with tears in his eyes, he told his mother that he now knew that Jesus Christ was the Savior and his Friend.

The effects of the Atonement in our lives can also produce in us the example those we love will need. I learned again the other night the example we need to be.
I was chatting with my wife at the end of a long day. Three of our children were in the room, listening. I turned and noticed that one of them was watching me—and watching my face intently. And then he asked me, softly, “Why are you unhappy?” I tried to give a reason for my furrowed brow, but I realized later that he could well have been asking this deeper question: “Can I see in you the hope for peace in this life that Jesus promised?”
To turn my thoughts from what darkened my look to what would brighten it, I went to another letter from Mormon to his son. Both Mormon and Moroni were facing days of difficulty that make my challenges pale. Mormon knew his son might be overcome with gloom and foreboding, so he told him the perfect antidote. He told him that he could choose, by what he put in his mind, to become an example of hope. Here is what he wrote:
“My son, be faithful in Christ; and may not the things which I have written grieve thee, to weigh thee down unto death; but may Christ lift thee up, and may his sufferings and death, and the showing his body unto our fathers, and his mercy and long-suffering, and the hope of his glory and of eternal life, rest in your mind forever” (Moro. 9:25).