NEVER ENDING MISSION
The parents waited by the grave when all others had gone,
Their wonderful son dead so young he was only twenty one,
Just home from his mission only a few short weeks ago,
Hopes and dreams shattered, faith and courage running low.

In unison they knelt there beside the earthly remains of a son
Who was always good and what about the scholarship he’d won?
The pretty girl who waited, how quickly will her heart mend?
There was so much for him to live for, now it was at an end.

That night they dreamt the very same vivid sweet dream,
Their son robbed in white, more handsome than he’d ever been.
Teaching the true gospel to those who are what we call dead,
A lustrous light shone bright around that young and noble head.

He turned as if he saw them, and smiled, his eyes full of love,
He told them not to grieve for there was work for him up above,
He knew he was a good missionary so the Lord wanted him there
To tell thousands about the gospel, truth with them now to share.

They awoke and knew that they’d been doubly blessed that night,
There hearts could heal and they saw their son in heaven’s light
Preaching the gospel to those gone before, maybe relatives too,
Every time they attended they temple, they saw his work through.

M Ann Margetson March 15, 2002