God’s Plenty
April 25, 2018The harvest poured til you could bear No more, till you Could neither know nor care.
The harvest poured til you could bear No more, till you Could neither know nor care.
I am no monk, no flesh-thresher I, To winnow out, by dank silence, By hooded hunger and the raw, unflagging flail, That Adam’s chaff, desire, Till the husk of me lie powder on the stone.
There is little sound, only the gulls’ Sailing song, way off, and the gush On the grass more muted now and slow.
In his writings on the sociology of religion, Max Weber contrasts two types of religious leaders: emissary and exemplary prophets. The founders of the great religions of mankind fall into one of these two […]
This recent publication is the best one volume history of Utah available, but it is not as good as it could or should be. The ideal volume would present a clear narrative, be integrated […]
Let the stone whisper to the flower, The flower to the sun, And the sun to the stars of heaven, That Jehovah is come for his bride;
The church of my childhood was redbrick, too. Smug and warm inside, I’d watch the snow battling the windows
[…] and a stint in a Kibbutz, where she manages to record the rhythm of a young woman’s search for identity. Though I would love to read the parts she and Elouise excised, I am […]
With the exception of a handful of standouts, such as Donna Hill’s work on Joseph Smith, biographies by Mormons of Mormons have been scarcely worth the title. Often reminiscent of mimeographed Christmas letters, these […]
[…] locked into fearsome competition for access to the Corinne trade. As was to be expected, the Deseret News and the Ogden Junction regularly derided these delusions of the Gentiles, but Corinnethians were confident that a […]