“Fast Sunday,” Ensign, Apr. 1988, 23
This Sabbath, I am prism-full of light.
A Spirit-fire projects my facets there:
Mary listening, Martha laboring,
Sarah trembling, Elizabeth rejoicing,
Mary sorrowing, Eve remembering.
All these in me, yet burning only I,
As all our lives are mirrored back and forth
And all lights touch and know their flaming source.
Still gray tomorrow comes, with shameless haste,
And, cumbered by world cares, the fires dim,
To be awakened yet again, again,
Until, enduring, clouded prism-souls,
Now filled with light, find Thy reality—
A sea of glass, an everlasting fire—