“To Kevin: Newly a Missionary,” Ensign, Jan. 1976, 13
You stand before the gates of paradox
In quest for life. You dream deep autumn dreams
Of white: Behold the field! If tares or rocks
Be there they hide beneath the fruited gleams
Of lives you seek. And yet to save your life
You cannot know the life you seek—or yield—
Can only know it lies beyond your reach,
Beyond your self, but somewhere in the field.
I stand behind your dreams and know the tares
And rocks but also know the Rock. And know
How few the lives you’ll find in losing yours,
How much of you must go into the flow
Of self that harvests precious heads of grain
Including yours: Kneel, pray, and enter in.