History of the Prophet Joseph, by His MotherSmith, Lucy
History
History of the Prophet Joseph, by His Mother
Smith, Lucy
Smith, Joseph, Jr., 1805-1844
Shortly after Mr. Harris left, Joseph's wife became the mother of a
son, which, however, remained with her but a short time before it was
snatched from her arms by the hand of death. And the mother seemed, for
some time, more like sinking with her infant into the mansion of the
dead, than remaining with her husband among the living. Her situation
was such for two weeks, that Joseph slept not an hour in undisturbed
quiet. At the expiration of this time she began to recover, but as
Joseph's anxiety about her began to subside, another cause of trouble
forced itself upon his mind. Mr. Harris had been absent nearly three
weeks, and Joseph had received no intelligence whatever from him, which
was altogether aside of the arrangement when they separated. But Joseph
kept his feelings from his wife, fearing that if she became acquainted
with them it might agitate her too much.
In a few days, however, she mentioned the subject herself, and desired
her husband to go and get her mother to stay with her, while he
should repair to Palmyra, for the purpose of learning the cause of
Mr. Harris's absence as well as silence. At first Joseph objected,
but seeing her so cheerful, and so willing to have him leave home, he
finally consented.
He set out in the first stage that passed for Palmyra, and, when he
was left to himself, he began to contemplate the course which Martin
had taken, and the risk which he (Joseph) had run in letting the
manuscript go out of his own hands--for it could not be obtained again,
in case Martin had lost it through transgression, except by the power
of God, which was something Joseph could hardly hope for--and that, by
persisting in his entreaties to the Lord, he had perhaps fallen into
transgression, and thereby lost the manuscript. When, I say, he began
to contemplate these things, they troubled his spirit, and his soul was
moved with fearful apprehensions. And, although he was now nearly worn
out, sleep fled from his eyes, neither had he any desire for food, for
he felt that he had done wrong, and how great his condemnation was he
did not know.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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