O Fall, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?
How long shall thy cool breezes be stayed, and thine leaves, yea thy colorful leaves, which adorn these heaven-reaching trees, be kept from our view, and these burning hours be penetrated with our cries?
Yea, O Fall, how long shalt thou suffer the temperatures of heated oppressions to bear down upon thy servants, before thine shortened days shall yield to gentle hours, and thy rains be moved with compassionate swells upon them?
O Noble Fall, bearer of harvests, frosts, and feasts, and of all things blessed that in them are, and who tamests and subjectest the devil heat, and the dogged and benighted dominion of Summer—stretch forth thy time; let thine flora bloom; let thy pavilion be taken up; let thy hiding place no longer be covered; let thine leaves be inclined again toward the earth; let thine stiffneckedness be softened, and thy days move with swiftness toward us.
Let thine anger be kindled against our Summer enemies; and, in the cool fury of thine generation, with thy sword avenge us of this fervid season.
Remember thy sweating saints, O Fall; and thy servants will rejoice in thee forever.
Inspired by D&C 121:1-6
(Image credit: CR Artist)
Scripture of the Day: 2 Timothy 3:1-5