The saints came to this wet cold place
And saw the hope in Joseph’s face
And new that they could build their faith
From old Nauvoo the beautiful
Their hands did bleed and brows did sweat
And yet they sang without a fret
Their memories I will not forget
From old Nauvoo the beautiful
And from their tithe and sweat stood tall
A house that did exceed them all
Just for the Lord; their voices call
From old Nauvoo the beautiful
From tin smith to the bakers store
I walk and see what came before
The strength they gave forever more
From old Nauvoo the beautiful
Two brothers I now look upon
A tear I shed, their sacrifice done
They gave their lives for Father and Son
From old Nauvoo the beautiful
I sit at peace within these walls
Where saints the same would walk the halls
A time far past I hear their calls
From old Nauvoo the beautiful
And as I think what I could be
These stories truly help me see
And I gain a site of the future me
From old Nauvoo the beautiful
June 1st, 2010
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