Udgorn Seion, 1851:369-72
GROANS OF THE REVERENDS.
TUNE—“Sectarianism in Danger.”
WALES, Wales, awake soon,
Lift thy voice, and do not
slumber;
Come in strength and
endless energy,
To
vanquish all the Mormons.
Oh, how sad is
our heart;
The Saints of
this age,
And their influence
must be overcome.
See, the camp of Methodism,
Trembles because of these
men;
Ouch, the kingdom of old
sectarianism,
Is being
shattered by Mormonism.
Oh, how sad is
our heart, &c.
See, the Great Cause is
withering,
Oh, how ill it is in Llangeithio;
[p. 370]
With the same fate
remember, remember,
Will
befall the great Session in Bala.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
We can do nothing but groan,
Beneath a polluted and guilty conscience;
What shall we do? our
trade
Is coming to an end, before
Mormonism.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
Ouch, ouch, ouch, losing the profit,
Is almost as wretched as dying;
We can no longer deceive men,
Let us burn, let us burn the Book of Mormon.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
The translation of the Book of Mormon,
Is bringing pain to the strings of our heart:
Before the heat of its pure doctrine,
Sectarianism is melting into extinction.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
The penetrating doctrine of the Saints,
Is working through our flesh and our nerves;
Here is some very strange knowledge,
That is killing us by the inch.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
Let us turn to God for strength to shout,
May that old angel MORONI be killed;
Oh, woe is us that he was not strangled,
Before taking Joseph to Cumorah.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
If men only knew,
Of our great affliction and
our tribulation.
They would arise now in doves,
To lay waste all of the
Saints.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
We would give the world or two, if we could,
Throw them all to perdition;
But old hell will refuse them,—
Before long they will reign:
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
Ugly disagreements are what divide
The road for all the denominations to follow;
The churches are in tumult because of them,
Like the sea in the roar of a whirlwind.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
What will become of the restless world,
That bodes sadness daily?
[p. 371]
What will become of the frigid sects,
But some weary, awful end.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
Despite our loud cries and our babble,
Let the world see, how miserable is our condition!
The proud and puffed-up Sectarians,
Are now like a slumping ruin.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
Despite inventing a thousand tales,
All of which are filled with calumny
About the Saints, there is no hope,
That we shall triumph over
them.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
’Tis vain to pay the
old balladeers,
To scribble senseless rubbish;
’Tis vain to write
deceitful letters,
To deride any of the Saints.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
Vain is our lying facetiousness,
About all the women of California;
Vain is the foolishness of the “Times”
Turning into “Rhys of the blatant lie.”
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
’Tis vain to promote
massacres,
’Tis vain to speak
against miracles;
Vain are the treachery, and ugly plots;
Onward the Saints continue.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
’Tis better to change
our speech,
’Tis better to leave
the Saints alone;
Is it not, if they go further,
It will finish, and put an end to our trade.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
Our preaching is nothing, our prayers are
nothing,
Our religious fervor is nothing, and our
shouting is nothing,
Our gift is nothing, and our cause is nothing,
The strength of our religion is nothing of
nothing.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
Our wisdom and our teaching,
Are found to be nothing before Mormonism;
The is the speech of our conscience,—
We are sinking in a sea of misery.
Oh, how sad is our heart, &c.
Hush, wretches, come, come,
With faith and repentance;
[p. 372]
Turn in haste to the God of the Saints,
And obtain deliverance of your sins.
Come, oh, come without denying,
It is late, come swiftly,
And obtain
deliverance of your groanings,
Come, Oh, come
without denying.
Gwawr Chapel,
Aberaman. DEWI
ELFED.
