Monday, February 8, 2016


(image from Internet)
Reporting down south from Ireland. I love the Emerald Isle. I have seen and been in two of the greatest cities. It so different than Northern Ireland and Scotland. There are so many different cultures all smashed into one. It's great. 

   Elder Campbell and I had a great experience. We were tracting and we had decided that were were going to get let in to these houses. The very first door we walked up with confidence that we would get let in. An Irish Lady answered the door and literally, I do not joke, all Elder Campbell said, "Hello, we are out sharing a message about the Book of Mormon." The Lady looked at us and said, "would you like to come in?" It was amazing. That is one of the many miracles we have had here in Dublin. 

   We are teaching a family whose children are not yet baptized. The young boy were are working with, his name is Roarie. He will be getting baptized next Sunday. It will be so good for the family. We are building our finding loads. It's so fun.

  We had a great conference with Elder Hallstrom. We were taught so deeply about the atonement and the power to forgive yourself. It was incredible. We were also taught that  in 2 kings 6:16 "Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them." Is our dead ancestors, even our decedents, And they are praying for us and helping us with more power than you or I can even comprehend. So when you are feeling down take comfort in this thought.. "they that be with us" will comfort you through the power of Jesus Christs atonement, you just need a little faith.

Elder Penman 

On the move! L to R: Elders Mickelsen, Swenson, Penman, Davis

Image from the Internet

Note from Mom: 
Emerald Isle is the poetic name for Ireland due to its green countryside, first referred to in print by William Drennan in his poem "When Erin first rose"


By William Drennan

From The Cabinet of Irish Literature, Volume 2, edited by Charles A. Read
When Erin first rose from the dark swelling flood,
God bless'd the green island and saw it was good;
The em'rald of Europe, it sparkled and shone,
In the ring of the world the most precious stone.
In her sun, in her soil, in her station thrice blest,
With her back towards Britain, her face to the West,
Erin stands proudly insular, on her steep shore,
And strikes her high harp 'mid the ocean's deep roar.
But when its soft tones seem to mourn and to weep,
The dark chain of silence is thrown o'er the deep;
At the thought of the past the tears gush from her eyes,
And the pulse of her heart makes her white bosom rise.
O! sons of green Erin, lament o'er the time
When religion was war, and our country a crime,
When man in God's image inverted his plan,
And moulded his God in the image of man.
When the int'rest of state wrought the general woe,
The stranger a friend, and the native a foe;
While the mother rejoic'd o'er her children oppressed,
And clasp'd the invader more close to her breast.
When with pale for the body and pale for the soul,
Church and state joined in compact to conquer the whole;
And as Shannon was stained with Milesian blood,
Ey'd each other askance and pronounced it was good.
By the groans that ascend from your forefathers' grave
For their country thus left to the brute and the slave,
Drive the demon of bigotry home to his den,
And where Britain made brutes now let Erin make men.
Let my sons like the leaves of the shamrock unite,
A partition of sects from one footstalk of right,
Give each his full share of the earth and the sky,
Nor fatten the slave where the serpent would die.
Alas! for poor Erin that some are still seen,
Who would dye the grass red from their hatred to green;
Yet, oh! when you're up, and they're down, let them live,
Then yield them that mercy which they would not give.
Arm of Erin, be strong! but be gentle as brave;
And uplifted to strike, be still ready to save;
Let no feeling of vengeance presume to defile
The cause of, or men of, the Emerald Isle.
The cause it is good, and the men they are true,
And the Green shall outlive both the Orange and Blue.
And the triumphs of Erin her daughters shall share
With the full swelling chest, and the fair flowing hair.
Their bosoms heave high for the worthy and brave,
But no coward shall rest in that soft-swelling wave;
Men of Erin! awake, and make haste to be blest!
Rise! arch of the ocean, and queen of the West!

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