Mormon 6

I will now finish writing about the death of my people. In the three hundred eighty-fourth year, I, Mormon, wrote a letter to the Lamanite King asking to let us gather our people who were still alive to the land of Cumorah and meet his people in one final battle. The Lamanite King agreed.

We marched to the land of Cumorah and pitched our tents around the hill Cumorah. It was a land of lakes, rivers and fountains.

I, Mormon, began to be old. I knew this would be the people’s last struggle. I hid the plates of Nephi in the hill Cumorah with all the other records, except for a few which I gave to my son Moroni.

One day my people could see the Lamanite armies marching towards them. Every soul was filled with terror because of the greatness of their numbers. The Nephites waited with that awful fear of death that fills the chests of the wicked.

The Lamanites killed my people with their swords, arrows, axes and all kinds of weapons. The ten thousand men who I led were killed. I was wounded, but the Lamanites passed without killing me.

They killed my ten thousand people and Moroni’s ten thousand. They killed Gidgiddonah and his ten thousand, Lamah with his ten thousand, Gilgal with his ten thousand, Limhah with his ten thousand, Jeneum with his ten thousand, Cumenihah with his ten thousand, Moronihah with his ten thousand, Antionum with his ten thousand, Shiblom with his ten thousand, Shem with his ten thousand and Joshhad with his ten thousand.

Their flesh, bones and blood lay across the land. They were not buried, but were left to rot and mold and crumble to the earth.

Only my son Moroni, twenty-two other Nephites, and I were still alive. A few more escaped into the south land and a few joined the Lamanites.

My soul was low with sadness because of the death of my whole people. I cried out: O you beautiful ones, how could you leave the ways of the Lord! How could you reject Jesus, who stood with open arms to save you!

If you had not done this, you would not have fallen. O you fair sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, husbands and wives, you fair ones, how did you fall?

But you have fallen and I weep for your loss. You are gone and my sorrow cannot bring you back.

The day will soon come when your bodies, which are now molding on the earth, must soon be made perfect and joined with your spirit to stand before the judgment seat of Christ to be judged for your works.

O that you had repented before this great ruin came on you. But you are gone and the Father, yes, the Eternal Father of heaven, knows you and he will do with you according to his justice and mercy.