The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

There was another meeting of a more unusual nature that was held from time to time. In the first months of the Church’s organization, many people began to ask Joseph to petition the Lord for their own personal revelations. He did so, but as the Church grew in numbers this became more and more difficult for him to keep up with. In December of 1833, while giving blessings to his own family, Joseph was inspired to call his father as the Patriarch to the Church. In Old Testament times, the patriarchs—Adam, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph—gave blessings to their children and others. These blessings gave the person counsel from the Lord, promised blessings if the individual was faithful, and warned about weaknesses or problems that the person should avoid.

  Soon Father Smith was traveling to the various branches of the Church, where he would hold special “blessing meetings.” He would gather a group of Saints together and, one by one, give each a patriarchal blessing.

  On the night of February second, 1836, while a winter storm raged outside, Nathan and Lydia Steed, along with Jessica and Rebecca, sat in a blessing meeting inside the home of Joseph Smith, Sr. For over an hour Joseph’s father, white haired and dignified, now in his sixty-fifth year, had stood in his place behind the chair placed in the center of the room. One by one, each person went to that chair. He would lay his hands on the person’s head and in quiet reverence, speaking slowly so his wife or son could transcribe the words, pronounce the blessing upon the individual. He had now gone almost all the way around the circle. Lydia was next.

  “You go first,” she whispered to Nathan, as Father Smith finished and the other person stood and shook his hand. For some reason, she was suddenly nervous.

  Nathan smiled and shook his head.

  “Sister Steed,” Father Smith said, beckoning to her.

  Nathan squeezed her hand, then gave her a gentle push. “Go on.”

  She went to the chair and took her place, then turned and looked up into the kindly face. “Lydia McBride Steed,” she said. He always asked for the person’s full name. He nodded. As she turned back to the front and bowed her head, she felt the gentle hands with their long slender fingers come upon her head.

  “Sister Lydia McBride Steed, in the name of our Lord and Savior, even Jesus Christ, and as a patriarch called of God and ordained to that office by one of the Lord’s anointed, I lay my hands upon your head and give unto you a blessing.”

  He paused for a moment, to listen to that still, quiet, inward voice that was prompting him. His voice deepened. “Sister Steed, you have been called of God to enter his church and kingdom in this the last of the dispensations, the dispensation of the fulness of times, even that dispensation that shall bring about a restoration of all things in preparation for the coming of him who is Lord of lords and King of kings.

  “Sister Steed, the Lord is pleased with your willingness to enter the waters of baptism and take his name upon you, and he will bless you throughout your life with a multitude of blessings as long as you continue faithful to his word.”

  A multitude of blessings? They have already come. Her heart sang with joy as a list quickly ran through her mind: Nathan and their love. Three beautiful children. Good health. A comfortable home. The Steed family. Membership in the Church.

  “Sister Steed, you are a member of the house of Israel, coming through the loins of Ephraim, who was the son of Joseph, who was the son of Jacob. This is a noble lineage, and you have been born into it because of your faithfulness.

  “The Lord would have you know that your calling in this mortal life is to be a righteous mother in Zion. You have already chosen a good and faithful man as your husband. Stand by his side in his endeavors, and you shall be the queen in your home. You have already been blessed with children, and you shall yet be blessed with sons and daughters. These spirits that have now and will yet be entrusted into your care come from the presence of God, where they lived with him. Take them into your home with love and care. Train them in the way they should go, teaching them the principles of the gospel and the importance of serving Jesus Christ. This is a sacred and holy trust that you are given. If you fill it well, you shall come forth in the morning of the first resurrection with all the holy angels and there behold the face of God.”

  A thrill shot through Lydia as the image of his words filled her mind. Sons and daughters! The first resurrection! Her mind was reeling with the wonder of it.

  Again there was a pause, only longer this time. When he continued—more slowly now, speaking clearly and distinctly— his voice rose in power. She felt the pressure of his hands bearing down more firmly on her, as though to impress his words into her mind.

  “You are to devote your time and your talents and your energies to being a righteous mother in Zion. If you are faithful in this calling, you shall be as a river of pure water which rushes down from the mountain, bringing life to all that is nearby.”

  Lydia started slightly and her eyes almost flew open. A river? Mountains? The images of her dream flashed into her mind. She had not had the dream for over a year now and had almost put it from her mind. Because of the terrible dread she always felt during the dream and afterwards, she had never told anyone of it, not even Nathan.

  Her sudden movement beneath his hands caused Father Smith to stop, but when she steadied he went on. “Your children shall be blessed by your influence. They shall be as trees planted in a goodly land, by a pure stream, and they shall be most comely and exceedingly fruitful. In your old age, your children and their children and their children shall rise up and, with a joyful noise, shout praises unto your name.”

  Lydia felt a hot, scalding sensation on her cheeks and realized she was crying. It was her dream. The mountain, the river, the majestic trees. But he had not spoken of the desert, of the terrible desolation, the rushing horror that always swept over her. But she didn’t feel horror now. Or dread. She was infused with joy, with a tremendous, surging sense of relief.

  Startled, she realized Father Smith had finished and removed his hands. Trembling slightly, she stood and turned around to face him, brushing quickly at her cheeks. In one step she was to him and embraced him. “Thank you, Father Smith. Thank you.”

  Far to the west of Kirtland, Joshua Steed stood alone on the streets of Independence. Night had fallen, and most of Jackson County’s citizens were in their homes, or else gathered in the saloons for a last beer before going home. The latter had been Joshua’s plan as well. He found nothing at the house now to hold him. The emptiness was depressing. And so, when he had finished his work at the freight office, he had started for Clinton Roundy’s saloon on the main street of Independence. A beer or two, maybe a friendly game of low-stakes poker—it would help pass the time.

  With a frown, he reached in his coat pocket and took out the envelope again. Now he wished he hadn’t passed the dry goods store. The proprietor had seen him going by. “Mr. Steed!” he had called. “A letter came for you today.”

  He opened it again slowly, smoothing the brown paper against his chest. Nathan’s neat handwriting filled both sides. There was a postscript in his mother’s hand. In the moonlight, Joshua could not read any of it. But he didn’t have to. He had stood there, outside the mercantile shop, and read it over and over, until the words seared his emotions like a blacksmith’s fire.

  Suddenly, with one savage twist of his hands, he tore the letter in two. “I don’t want your forgiveness, little brother,” he hissed. He ripped the paper again. “I don’t need it.” With deep satisfaction he shredded the paper into tiny pieces and flung them away.

  As they fluttered to the ground, his mouth tightened into a hard line. “And get it out of your head that you’re coming back to Missouri.” His chest lifted and fell. Now the bitterness made his voice go soft and cold. “That would not be a wise move on your part, little brother. Not a wise move at all.”

  With that, he turned and strode back down the street toward Roundy’s saloon and the company that awaited him there.

  Chapter Thirty

  Usually on
a Sunday morning in Kirtland, the streets were mostly quiet and deserted until about seven-thirty or eight o’clock. But such was not the case on this morning of March twenty-seventh, 1836. Saints had been streaming into Kirtland from miles around for the past two days. They came from Painesville and Chardon, Mantua, Hiram and Thompson, New Portage, Orange, Warrensville, Amherst and Ravenna. They slept with friends and relatives, put bedrolls in the backs of wagons, pitched tents, or in some cases just rolled out their bedding on the ground in whatever vacant lots were available. By dawn they began to stir and prepare for a Sabbath that would be different from any one thus far in their history.

  Benjamin Steed stepped out of the doorway of his house at ten minutes before seven. He stopped and stared in amazement. The street was teeming with people, all moving northward toward the temple block and the massive building that dominated the bluffs of upper Kirtland. The sun was not quite up yet, and in the softness of the morning light, the white walls gleamed almost translucent and the great eastern tower seemed even higher than it was.

  “My goodness,” Mary Ann blurted as she came out of the door, “would you look at that! And it’s not even seven o’clock yet.”

  Benjamin nodded. “I knew people would start coming early.” The services were not scheduled to start until nine, but Joseph had suggested they get there well before that if they wanted seats.

  Rebecca stepped outside and joined them. “Are they ready?” Benjamin asked her.

  Rebecca nodded. “They’re just giving Matthew some lastminute instructions about the children. Rachel wants to go, and Jessica’s trying to explain things to her.”

  Mary Ann smiled. “They’ll be fine.” Joshua, Emily, and Rachel adored their Uncle Matthew, and given the fact that he was almost sixteen, Mary Ann did not worry for a moment about his competency. Lydia’s baby was just six months old and still had to stay with his mother, so Matthew would only have the three older children to look after. Melissa and Carl were only two blocks down if there should be problems.

  “Becca,” Benjamin said, “tell them we’ll go on ahead and get in line. We’ll save them a place.”

  Joseph Smith and the other members of the First Presidency came outside about eight o’clock to let the people in and to begin seating them. By then the crowd was approaching a thousand in number. Clearly, if they kept coming at this rate, not everyone was going to get a seat this day.

  As the Steeds neared the front door, taking their turn in line, Joseph came out again and spied them. “Well,” he said, “and here are the Steeds. Good morning, good morning.”

  “Good morning, Brother Joseph.”

  “Come with me. I have a place for you near the front.”

  Benjamin looked up in surprise. “Are you sure, Joseph?” he said quickly. “We don’t want any special favors.”

  “No special favors,” Joseph said just as quickly. “But there is a place reserved for the building committee, and the Lord knows, Benjamin, you surely did your part on the building committee.”

  As they went inside, Joseph stopped for a moment in the large entryway as he saw the Steed women look up, their eyes widening. Benjamin and Nathan had both been in the temple within the last few days for meetings held on the upper floor, but the women had not. They had been inside previously to help hang the large canvas veils that hung from hidden rollers in the ceiling, but that had been before the last of the finishing work and painting had been completed.

  “Oh, Joseph,” Lydia exclaimed, “this is beautiful!”

  He nodded in satisfaction. “Come inside and see what you think.”

  As they entered the large hall that filled the entire main floor, they stopped again, their eyes wide. “Oh!” Jessica breathed.

  “It’s marvelous!” Mary Ann echoed.

  The hall was wonderfully bright. Large, Gothic-arched windows let plenty of light into the room, which was huge—sixtyfive feet long by fifty-five feet wide, with high ceilings. It would have seemed cavernous except that along the full length of the north and south walls the ceilings had been lowered, leaving only the center section vaulted. A series of gracefully fluted columns supported these lowered ceilings, breaking up the expanse of the room without taking away anything from its spaciousness. Lydia’s eyes lifted to examine the delicately carved motif of interlocking circles that capped each pillar.

  The room was filled with sectioned-off pews, a little lower than waist high. In each of these compartments there were backless benches, this so the congregation could face either way, depending on which end of the room was used by the person conducting. And it was to those two ends of the room that the eye was drawn and held. Here, filling the entire center sections of the east and west walls, were the pulpits of the priesthood—the west being for the Melchizedek, the east for the Aaronic. They rose in four graceful tiers from the level of the floor, so that the highest pulpit was eight or ten feet above the congregation. The lowest tier was a large table with drop-down leaves designed for use in the administration of the sacrament. Above that, each tier held three places for the presidencies of the various priesthood quorums. These tiers were flanked by other benches on both sides so that additional members of the quorum leaderships could be seated.

  The workmanship was exquisite, and here the master craftsmanship of Brigham Young and those he had supervised was instantly evident. In the four corners of the hall, placed so as to face the pulpits, were additional tiers of choir seats, more simply finished but still blending in perfectly with the overall feeling of the room. Everything was painted white and gleamed in the morning light. The effect was to make the whole room airy and bright, which immediately lifted the spirits and gladdened the heart.

  Rebecca said it all for them when she simply turned and said, “Oh, Joseph!”

  Joseph was much pleased by their reaction. “It is a fitting house for the Lord, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed,” Nathan said fervently. They were all touched with a sense of reverential awe.

  Joseph led them to the pew that was four rows back from the western pulpits. “Sit here,” he suggested. “Lydia, you can take the outside; then if the baby needs nursing you can get out more easily.”

  “Are you sure this is where we belong?” Mary Ann asked.

  Joseph laughed and nodded. “Remember that day when I was trying to convince Benjamin to help us build the temple?”

  She nodded, but Ben shook his head, somewhat embarrassed. “I remember,” he said. “I was being a little pigheaded as I recall.”

  “A little?” Mary Ann said, poking at him with her elbow, but unable to keep the pride from her voice.

  “Well,” continued Joseph, “that day, after you agreed to help, I vowed that I would see that you got a good seat for the dedication. Now I look back on what you’ve done, Benjamin—” Suddenly his voice caught, and he reached out and grasped Benjamin’s hand. “Thank you, my good friend. Your contribution has been enormous.”

  Benjamin’s voice was suddenly husky too. “It has been the greatest joy in my life, outside of my family, Joseph. Thank you for not giving up on an old fool.”

  “The Lord didn’t give up on me,” Joseph laughed. “I guess that’s where I learned my patience.”

  Mary Ann reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, Joseph. It is a great day.”

  “It is a great day, friends. A day of Pentecost. The Lord is pleased with our sacrifice and shall pour out his Spirit upon us in great abundance here today.”

  At precisely nine A.M., President Sidney Rigdon stood, and instantly the soft murmur of people whispering quieted. Every seat on the main floor was filled. The great doors had been pulled shut. Even with nearly a thousand people seated, the ushers had turned people away. Some had been sent to an overflow meeting at the schoolhouse to the west of the temple. Others were promised there would be a repeat session on Thursday next. Nathan looked at his father and mouthed a word of thanks. Waiting until Thursday would have been heartbreaking. It was worth the two-hour wait
in order to be here.

  “I would like to begin these services,” President Rigdon was saying, “by turning to the book of Psalms. I shall first read from Psalm ninety-six.”

  He opened a Bible, turned the pages until he found his place, then began to read. “ ‘O sing unto the Lord a new song: sing unto the Lord, all the earth.’ ”

  A thrill shot through Nathan. Yes! he thought. He felt like singing. He felt like shouting out praises to his God. He looked down. Lydia had gone out and nursed little Nathan Joseph just before the meeting had begun. Now he slept peacefully in his father’s arms. He saw Lydia smiling at him and reached out and took her hand.

  “ ‘Sing unto the Lord,’” President Rigdon continued, “ ‘bless his name; shew forth his salvation from day to day.’”

  Nathan smiled back at his wife and clasped her hand more tightly.

  Next President Rigdon turned to Psalm twenty-four. Nathan’s head came up. This was one of his personal favorites. But as Sidney boomed out the question asked therein, it startled Nathan. He had heard it, read it a hundred times or more. He had never applied it to himself in quite the way he did on this day.

  “ ‘Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord?’ “ Sidney cried, “ ‘or who shall stand in his holy place?’ “ He paused to let his eyes meet the hundreds of eyes that watched him steadily. “ ‘He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.’ ”

  Nathan winced, his mind flashing back to that night almost two years ago now, in the room above a saloon in Jackson County. He had lost his temper and deliberately goaded Joshua into a rage. Did that leave him with clean hands? And what did it mean to swear deceitfully? He had sworn to cross the river so that he could make peace with Joshua. Instead,...He looked away, his face burning with shame.

  Nathan’s head came up as he realized that Sidney was through reading.

  “We’ll now hear from our choir,” he was saying, “under the direction of Brother M. C. Davis. They will sing from our new hymnal prepared by Sister Emma Smith, hymn number nineteen, ‘Ere Long the Veil Will Rend in Twain,’ a hymn written by our beloved brother, Parley P. Pratt.”