Mommy, Why?

Mommy, why are we leaving home
Where are we going, why must we roam?
Come, come along, my dear precious one
We are going to live in Zion
There we'll build the city of our God
Come follow me, hold my hand and come...

How much longer on the ship? I'm sick
We've traveled so long on this Atlantic
Yes, the quarters are small, the voyage long
But, we're together. Let's sing a glad song
With faith in the Lord we'll be made strong
We'll soon be in Zion, where we belong...

I feel so very sick, I feel so weak
Do you see land? Please, Mommy, go and peek
Yes, you stay with Mary and hold her hand
She has been too weak to even stand
Her lips are pale and I greatly fear
She's soon to pass through this vale of tears...

Why must we bury her out to sea?
Can we sing a song for dear Mary?
The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away
Yes, little child, let's sing and let's pray
If we do according to God's will
He promises us we've His peace, be still...

Why must we walk so long and so far
Can I sit up there, high inside the cart?
We need to keep moving, just to stay warm
Come, and I will hold you under my arm
Here we must step and here we must press on
Until we reach the city of Zion...

Is this our new home, this little dugout?
Is this what Zion is really about?
This quilt can be our door for this winter
For now all we need is quick shelter
We've sacrificed much and we have conquered
May our trials always be remembered...

(One-sixth, died on the journey- there to slumber.)
They did it for you and for me- now- look at our numbers!


Thomas S. Monson, "Come Follow Me,"
Ensign, Jul 1988, 2