A VISIT TO UTAH
Coming down I 80 from more than six thousand feet
Into the valley where the crossroads of the west meet,
Is something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time,
Imagine how the pioneers felt after such a hard climb.

Bend after bend we twisted around the mountain side,
I wondered for how long the great valley could hide,
Then at last stretching out as far as the eye could see
Was the great Salt Lake valley as busy as could be.

Yet in my minds eye I could see this valley all bare,
No pretty homes or trees and gardens growing there,
The hearts of those pioneers must have broken in two
When they knew the desert they were not driving through.

It must have looked like a cruel and harsh place to stay,
Would they still suffer and die as they did on the way
To this place that was to become their resting place,
I wish I could show them now, see the look on each face.

We walked around temple square, felt of the sacrifice
As they struggled a few winters of freezing cold and ice,
Struggled to build a temple, it’s spiers pointing to the sky,
And build a wonderful city in the rocky mountains high.

When we entered the temple, saw the workmanship so fine,
Whatever had been the sacrifice to worship our God divine
Was worth every heartache, every blistered foot or hand
As we marvelled at the beauty in the building so grand.

Every hand hewn stone is precious, every painting just right,
Every small stained glass window that reflects to us the light,
Every gold leaf brush stroke, every curtain hanging there
Is a form of worship ascending to God like a perfect prayer.

We may never again visit the valleys at the crossroads of the west,
But we know those brave pioneers in sweet peace may truly rest,
For many meeting houses and temples grace this once baron land
And just like the prophet said, roses do blossom in the desert sand.

M Ann Margetson October 20, 2001