Corydon, Iowa: "Come, Come Ye Saints"

Locust Creek Camp is located just outside of Corydon, Iowa. It was here on April 15 that William Clayton reportedly penned the words to the song "All is Well," after receiving word that his wife, Diantha, still in Nauvoo, had given birth to a healthy baby boy. Since renamed "Come, Come, Ye Saints," this stirring hymn—an anthem of faith, full of praise amidst privation—has come to signify the Mormon migration to the West perhaps more than any other piece of writing.



At the present time it is impossible to pinpoint exactly where this hymn was composed, because the border of Iowa and Missouri was changed and disputed from 1816 to 1895. Much evidence, however, suggests it was probably composed about five miles southeast of Sewell, very near Corydon.




Also at Locust Creek, Brigham Young redirected the Camp of Israel to a northwest heading in order to leave behind the trail-wise and unscrupulous traders who he felt were taking advantage of the company.



Journal Entries of the Pioneers:

William Clayton:
"This morning Ellen Kimball came to me and wishes me much joy. She said Diantha has a son. I told her I was afraid it was not so, but she said Brother Pond had received a letter. I went over to Pond's and he read that she had a fine fat boy on the 30th ult., but she was very sick with ague and mumps. Truly I feel to rejoice at this intelligence but feel sorry to hear of her sickness... In the evening... [several] persons retired to my tent to have a social christening... We named him William Adriel Benoni Clayton... This morning I composed a new song—'All is well.' I feel to thank my heavenly father for my boy and pray that he will spare and preserve his life and that of his mother and so order it so that we may soon meet again" (William Clayton's Journal [1921], 19).







"Come, Come, Ye Saints"

Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
'Tis better far for us to strive
Our useless cares from us to drive;
Do this, and joy your hearts will swell—
All is well! All is well!

Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?
'Tis not so; all is right.
Why should we think to earn a great reward
If we now shun the fight?
Gird up your loins; fresh courage take.
Our God will never us forsake;
And soon we'll have this tale to tell—
All is well! All is well!

We'll find the place which God for us prepared,
Far away in the West,
Where none shall come to hurt or make afraid;
There the Saints will be blessed.
We'll make the air with music ring,
Shout praises to our God and King;
Above the rest these words we'll tell—
All is well! All is well!

And should we die before our journey's through,
Happy day! All is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell!
But if our lives are spared again
To see the Saints their rest obtain,
Oh, how we'll make this chorus swell—
All is well! All is well!

["Come, Come, Ye Saints," Hymn, no. 30]