In church this past Sunday, we sang a hymn entitled “Come, Come Ye Saints,” by William Clayton.
It is a beautiful song of hope that the Mormon pioneers sang as they made the long, treacherous journey across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley:
This song is very close to my heart. It reminds me of my Granddad. He was our church’s organist for many years, and he had a God-given gift for music. The way he played this song, I will never forget.
The fourth verse is the one he would play differently. When he played the first four lines, he would always play very softly, reverently, and with a much slower tempo. Then, as he transitioned into the fifth line to the end of the song, he swelled the music loudly and joyfully.
I can’t sing this song without crying my eyes out. I always feel the Holy Spirit, and this time, I also felt the presence of my Granddad with me.
I felt him send me a message that all is well with him too. He died on April 11, 2006, of Alzheimer’s. He had also struggled with his eyesight and hearing for many years. He was one of the most wonderful men I have ever known.
Granddad is happy, and I know he is doing a great work on the other side. All is well with him, and I know that all will be well with all of us who dedicate our lives, as he, the pioneers, and many others have, to the Lord.