They All Came through in Glory

By Vaughn J. Featherstone

In July’s hot sun

The trek began.

The handcart companies toiled,

With oxen to goad,

And heavy load,

Their faces strong and soiled.

But the trials grew,

The windstorms blew,

Soon came the dreadful foe.

Ice and cold,

Testing young and old,

In whiteness fell the snow.

Frostbite came

And made some lame;

Others never walked again.

Laid to sleep,

In snow knee-deep,

The roughest, toughest of men.

Food grew scarce,

Life more sparse,

A moment seemed a life.

Yet they lost not faith

While fearing death

Of daughter, son, or wife.

Then from far away

Came help that day,

With men, wagons, and supplies.

And great tears shed,

Over loaves of bread,

While brave rescuers wiped their eyes.

And now as the years

Have dried the tears

Of the pioneer stories we tell,

Let us not forget

The trials they met

Were the bitterest tests of hell.

For their faith proved true,

For me and you,

And they all came through in glory.

The heart doth melt

By the tests they felt,

In the brave pioneer handcart story.

Photo by Welden C. Andersen