How much good I have done, I leave to the Lord. My life has been humble, but active. Starting in for myself without a second coat to my back, I have supported a large family and given much of my time to preaching the Gospel and doing pioneer work.
To my wives and children, for their loyalty to me, I owe much,—more indeed than I may ever repay. In this brief writing, I have endeavored to show that they suffered much, and yet always did a noble, sacrificing part. No man ever had a better family. My father, in his declining years, helped me liberally, and I love his memory. Upon my return from England, I received a hearty welcome from my parents, my family, and my brothers, sisters, and friends.
My wife Albina, and son Silas, met me at Salt Lake City with a team. On our arrival at Orderville, the band came out and gave us a serenade and welcome. I associated with the Orderville organization seven years; laboring to the best of my ability for the good of all, and there was joy in that labor.
After the death of President Brigham Young, the Order was left to stand upon its own merits. At least President Taylor seemed to take but little interest in our affairs. The Orderville people were emerging from the deep poverty they at first had to contend with, and prosperity was coming to them. But with plenty came a spirit of speculation, and speculation brought disunion. I therefore withdrew from them, careful not to do them any wrong.
I moved next to Loa, where my home should be today, 1888; but because I will not put away wives that I married twenty years ago, when there was no law making it a crime, I am compelled to seek the "underground," or else be humiliated by imprisonment, which I will not submit to, if I can possibly avoid it.
One day, while sitting under a tree, writing this journal and watching my sheep, I found in an old newspaper that my dinner was wrapped in, the following verse, with the heading:
"THE MASTER'S QUESTION."
"Have ye looked for sheep in the desert,
For those that have missed their way?
Have ye been in the wild, waste places
Where the lost and wandering stray?
Have ye trodden the lonely highway—
The foul and darksome street?
It may be ye'd see in the gloaming,
The prints of my wounded feet."
To this I made answer in the following verses, which may not unfitly conclude the account of my missionary labors:
Yes, I have sought in the desert
For the sheep that have wandered afar.
I have followed the trail o'er the mountain
By the light of the polar star.
I have climbed the steep wild pali,
Thousands of miles away;
I have sought in rain and sunshine,
For the sheep that have gone astray.With footsteps faint and weary,
I have threaded the darksome street,
I have entered the lowly dwelling,
Asking for a crust to eat.
I have walked from eve till morning,
Facing a pelting storm,
Earnestly seeking to gather the sheep
Into the Master's barn.I have folded home to my bosom,
The tender, trembling lamb.
I have carried on my shoulder,
The weak and helpless dam.
I have cried with a voice of kindness
To the wayward, heedless throng;
I have checked the dogs that in blindness
Were worrying the wild and strong.I have left my home and loved ones—
The mother who gave me birth—
And wandered, weak and lonely,
Half way round the earth.
From Hawaii's shore to London,
My voice by night and day,
Has called, as a shepherd's warning
To the sheep that had gone astray.I have used my strength and substance,
I have given the little I had,
Ever willing to lend a hand
To the sinning, and the sad.
And though my strength is failing,
And I often stumble and fall,
Yet would I hunt the desert again,
At the blessed Savior's call.
For I have seen the prints of His feet,
When the spirit rested on me;
And when the sheep are gathered, I trust,
In the Master's fold to be.