Saving Each Precious Lost Fruit

A farmer drove his open bed truck
Filled to capacity with sugar beets
But, he lost some each time it was struck
With such potholes that also unseats

He stopped often to rest his back
Stiffening from all of his labor
And took with him a large gunny sack
To pick up all the beets that did neighbor

For each fruit was of such great value
That he wanted not one to be wasted
And we have a similar work to do
For each whom of the gospel once tasted

We should lift up those on the roadside
Who've been caught in the current so deep
And, too, turbulent times tear like a tide
While swirling whirlpools of sin do not sleep

But, all of this just needs not be!
For we have the doctrines of truth
We have the programs and the power to be
Saving each precious lost fruit

Of those who are now the wandering lost sheep
It is time to take a hand and reach a heart
For each is in need of our rescue, love, and watchkeep
There to restore what was engraved at the start

President Thomas S. Monson
Sugar Beets and the Worth of a Soul
Ensign, Jul 2009, 4–7