my poem did not stay true to the story
But the feeling in my heart for Mrs. Patton is there...
Many years ago a young man died.
He, the only son of a poor widow.
Now, all alone, how she grieved and cried.
A soldier's star of gold upon her window.
Oh, how she dreamed and longed to see him.
And, sought for comfort, would he live again?
What could be said to give her new hope;
Deep in despair, with no way to cope?
Perhaps the best way to start is prayer.
She humbly knelt and pled in his behalf.
To be reassured that God does care.
Does He have love for her son? He hath!
Fear of the unknown and death did concede.
For the Father knows of our greatest need-
To rise again. So, He sent His son.
Born in the flesh, He payed sin's ransom.
Then she felt of God's great sacrifice
How He gave up His prized and beloved Son.
For her son, she thanked God for this price.
Now, her journey of faith had begun.
Many years have passed... for her, at last.
She smiled for all her blessings vast.
Alone, as she took her very last breath.
Her son to see... she tasted of death.
- President Monson
(Dedicated to Mrs. Patton)
21–24, Nov 2007, Thomas S. Monson,
“Mrs. Patton—the Story Continues,” Liahona
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