June 1987

“Moroni,” Ensign, June 1987, 27


The stone now rests in place,

its edges carefully concealed in turf

as if unturned since Ramah times

when first this hill heard battle cries,

first felt the heavy marching feet

of armed and angry men

who fought like giants

one week’s war—

till only one survived,

his headless foe beneath his fainting feet.

Why must men hurtle here in hate,

eager to find a foretold fate

on Cumorah?

The records in place,

hidden in the cave below

and in them all our work—

our lives.

From towered Babel,

walled Jerusalem,

we came

led by that same hand

through desert sand

and over seas

until fulfilling forecast destinies

we found Cumorah.

“Moroni Burying the Gold Plates,” by Clark Kelley Price