Poetry of the Web Empire
The Book of Mormon
the TV Guide
On the table side by side
the Book of Mormon and the TV Guide.
One is well worn and cherished with pride;
Not the Book of Mormon, but the TV Guide.
One is used daily to help folks decide;
Nope, not the Book of Mormon, but the TV Guide.
As pages are turned, what shall they see?
Oh, what does it matter; turn on the TV.
So they open the book from which they confide;
No, not the Book of Mormon, but the TV Guide.
The Word of God is seldom read;
Maybe a verse here or there before they fall into bed,
exhausted and sleepy and tired as can be-
Not from reading the Book of Mormon, but from the TV.
So back to the table, side by side,
The Book of Mormon and the TV Guide.

The Plan of Salvation is full and free;
But is found in The Book of Mormon, not the TV.

-Elder Jacob de Jager
I Am A Child Of Royal Birth
I am a child of royal birth
My spirit was born in the courts on high;
A child beloved, a princess am I.
I was nurtured there; I lived by His side,
In a home where patience and love abide.
My mother was there in that glorious place,
Blessing her children with queenly grace.
I grew to the stature that spirits grow,
I gained the knowledge I needed to know.
I was taught the truth and I know the plan,
That God and the Christ laid out for man.
I was there when the stars of morning sang;
I was there to rejoice, to praise and applaud
The shouts of joy from the Songs of God.
I waited my turn and I came to earth
Through the wonderful channel of human birth,
Then the curtains were closed and the past was gone,
On the future too, the curtains were drawn.
I live on the earth, and God willed it so,
With freedom to choose the way I should go.
I must search for the truth, I must serve and obey,
I must walk by my faith many miles of the way.
Someday I'll go back; I will answer the call,
I'll return with my records to the Father of All.
The books will be opened and so will my heart,
There will be rejoicing if I've done my part.
My Father, the King, with His infinite love
Will welcome me back to the mansions above.
The curtains will part and eternity
In its light and glory will open to me.

- Anna Johnson
Marks Of A Man

As I jumped on board my flight from Miami to Salt Lake City, I paused for a moment to catch my breath. Seated near the front of the plane was an excited young man, probably 19, sitting with his parents. His hair was short and his clothes new and sharp. His suit was fitted perfectly and his black shoes still retained that store bought shine. His body was in good shape, his face clear, and his hands clean. In his eyes I could see a nervous look, and his movements were that of an actor on opening night.

He was obviously flying to Utah to become a missionary for the Mormon Church. I smiled as I walked by and took pride in belonging to this same Church where these young men and women voluntarily serve the Savior for two years. With this special feeling, I continued to the back where my seat was located.

As I sat in my seat, I looked to the right and to my surprise, saw another missionary sleeping in the window seat. His hair was also short, but that was the only similarity between the two. his one was obviously returning home, and I could tell at a glance what type of missionary he had been.

The fact that he was already asleep told me a lot. His entire body seemed to let out a big sigh. It looked as if this was the first time in two years he had even slept, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was.

As I looked at his face, I could see the heavy bags under his eyes, the chapped lips, and the scarred and sunburned face caused by the fierce Florida sun.

His suit was tattered and worn. A few of the seams were coming apart, and I noticed that there were a couple of tears that had been hand-sewn with a very sloppy stitch.

I saw the nametag, crooked, scratched and bearing the name of the Church he represented, the engraving of which was almost all worn away.

I saw the knee of his pants, worn and white, the result of many hours of humble prayer.

A tear came to my eye as I saw the things that really told me what kind of missionary he had been. I saw the marks that made this boy, a man.

His feet - the two that had carried him from house to house, now lay there swollen and tired. They were covered by a pair of worn-out shoes. Many of the large scrapes and gouges had been filled in by the countless number of polishings.

His books - laying across his lap were his scriptures, the word of God. Once new, these books which testify of Jesus Christ and His mission, were now torn, bent, and ragged from use.

His hands - those big, strong hands, which had been used to bless and teach, were now scarred and cut from knocking at doors.

Those were indeed the marks of that man. And as I looked at him, I saw the marks of another man, the Savior, as he was hanging on the cross for the sins of the world.

His feet - those that had once carried him throughout the land during his ministry, were now nailed to the cross.

His side - now pierced with a spear. Sealing his gospel, his testimony with his life.

His hands - the hand that had been used to ordain his servants and bless the sick were also scarred with the nails that were pounded to hang him on the cross.

Those were the marks of that great man.

As my mind returned to the missionary, my whole body seemed to swell with pride and joy, because I knew, by looking at him, that he had served his Master well.

My joy was so great, I felt like running to the front of the plane, grabbing that new, young missionary, and bringing him back to see what he can become, what he can do.

But would he see the things that I saw, could anyone see the things I saw? Or would he just see the outward appearance of that mighty elder, tired and worn out, almost dead.

As we landed, I reached over and tapped him to wake him up. As he awoke, it seemed like new life was entering his body. His whole frame just seemed to fill as he stood up, tall and proud. As he turned his face towards mine, I saw a light about his face that I had never seen before. I looked into his eyes. Those eyes, I will never forget those eyes. They were the eyes of a prophet, a leader, a follower, and a servant. They were the eyes of the Savior. No words were spoken. No words were needed.

As we unloaded, I stepped aside to let him go first. I watched as he walked, slow but steady, tired but strong. I followed him and found myself walking the way that he did. When I came through the doors, I saw this young man in the arms of his parents, and I couldn't hold it any longer. With tears streaming down my face, I watched these loving parents greet their son who had been away for a short time. And I wondered if our parents in Heaven would greet us the same way. Will they wrap their arms around us and welcome us home from our journey on earth? I believe they will. I just hope that I can be worthy enough to receive such praise, as I'm sure this missionary will.

I said a silent prayer, thanking the Lord for missionaries like this young man. I don't think I will ever forget the joy and happness he brought me that day.

- Author Unknown

My Wall

My Wall;

Is the strongest ever erected;
Could withstand the armies of the earth;
Is thick and tall, firm and solid
guarded by every possible means.

And yet, your gaze melts my wall
in a way... unanticipated;
You conquer me with

- Jaco of Naylorius


The push of a button is all it takes.
My world begins to twirl.
The soft breaze caresses my aging face
and chops the words I speak.
Childhood memories abound, my smile shows
for a while just relax
the trials of life, forgotten for now.

- Jaco of Naylorius


My World
a BATTLEGROUND of thoughts
thrown up in a flury of being
just about draws my surrender
when out of the whirlpool
a thought is focussed on
and I drw myself out of
my world
in a world of vibrant being
how can these thoughts loose me
I seek to discover the whole
of which I find myself part
the immensity of life
sometimes looses me like my thoughts
Yet while the BATTLES rage on earth
I find peace and comfort in
my World.

- Jaco of Naylorius

A Sincere Wish

Oh my Savior
my closest friend
I come to the today
thy touch, my heart it craves
Mine eyes from the can't stray
Thine great works shake all my doubts
and thy love I'd not betray
my heart is thine
please take it now
Into thy hands,
I grant my soul
That I with the may be.

- Jaco of Naylorius

The Purest Love

Oh thank thee God
for thy great love
and thy great sacrifice
to send your Son
midst grief and pain
to save this wicked race

My thanks to thee
Oh Heavenly One
for thy beloved son

And for the plan
that thou hast made
to bring us home again.

I love thee Lord
Fail you I will not
I'll serve thee with my
might and strength
to thy flock I will belong

How great my love,
I can not write
My heart does not quite know
To they my soul I pray, dear Lord
And never may I stray

-Jaco of Naylorius

No Greater Love

My heart cries out for love
which comes so freely from above
I love thee Lord, I will not stray
You've been with me through thick and thin
I don't deserve the joy you've given
A simple smile, great, gentle words
Our hands meet, thine love I feel
My body quakes and I must kneel
Yet with my hand you pull me up
and grant to me thy saving cup
Oh my Brother how great thou art
Follow thee I shall with all my heart.

-Jaco of Naylorius

A Hand For All

Not so very long ago
I knew my Heavenly Father
Not so very long ago
I saw my Saving Brother
Not so very long ago
They sent me on my way
And not so very long ago
I began to go astray

I did not even realize
how so small could grow so large
And not so very long ago
I fell into the tar
irst it squished between my toes
Yet I continued on
and right before I called for help
I lost sight of my heart

Where e'r I went
twas no avail
that grime had grown to thick
Oh silly me what made me think
this lamb could go so far

Oh save me Lord!
I cried out loud
I have strayed to far
I did not hearken to thy bell
And now I see no more

I sank then even deeper
and that sticky tar co'erd me
Yes all up and around my neck
the tar surrounded me

Yet suddenly my heart was warmed
I felt the Master's call
and with his strength he took my place
He freed my tar-bound feet
then placed me on the path

And from this path which I was on
I saw my Savior sink
My heart went still
I called to him
and this was his reply

Remember that for thee I died
so go and stray no more
Oh little lamb
I love the so
Please, stray from me no more

- Jaco of Naylorius