By the Campfire with the Prophet

The night wind whispers low through the pines,
Shadows stretch long, but the stars still shine.
The fire cracks loud, sparks dance in the air,
And I keep my rifle close, ‘cause the foe’s out there.

Joseph sits calm, eyes fixed on the flame,
Speaks soft of Zion, of the Savior’s name.
Says, “The Lord is our light, though the world turns cold.
His arm is not shortened, His promises hold.”

I nod, for I’ve seen the mobs and their hate,
But I’ve also seen heaven move, and I’ll wait.
For God parts the clouds when His people pray,
And the Devil himself won’t stop His way.

So here in the dark, while the coyotes call,
I thank my Maker, the greatest of all.
The fire is small, but His power is near,
And with Joseph beside me, I’ve nothing to fear.