A Gentile Lady and her Mormon Servant

By Rhoda Watson

My Mistress said to me one day,
“Rhoda, if you with me would stay,
From ‘Mormonism’ you must turn
Or here your bread you cannot earn.

“How can you think to leave your home
Far in a foreign clime to roam?
I would not go for worlds of gold,
For, what think you, I have been told

“There you must work to keep the men.
Once there you can’t come back again.”
Says I, “My Mistress, list to me,
And in the future you will see

“What I now say to you is true.
And I can tell you not a few
Ere long will wish that they were there,
The blessings of the Saints to share.

“You’ll wish that you had gone with me.
You’ll wish that you had crossed the sea.
You’ll wish that you had left your home,
Far in that happy clime to roam.

“For there the saints united are,
They vote for peace and not for war.
There bondage don’t oppress the saints.
We shall be free from such complaints.

“They gladly there assist each other.
There one can find a friend and brother.
I pray the time may shortly come
When all the saints will gather home,

“For an honest living we can get
Amongst the saints in Deseret.”
“But,” says my Mistress, “how can you
Ascertain what you say is true?

“If ’tis what you represent it,
Go and you will not repent it.”
Says I, “That’s what I mean to do.
I have that glorious hope in view.

“We know it is our God’s command.
That’s why we leave our native land.”
Says she, “Enough has now been said.
Good night my child; come, go to bed.”

Right glad was I to get away
To think upon the coming day
When I shall join a happy band
And bid farewell to my native land.

This happened near two years ago
But has she turned me? O, dear, no.
I’ve served her on through good and ill
And here I am a “Mormon” still.

(circa 1867)