David Hyrum Smith (1844-1904)

Biography
Brilliant and charismatic, David Hyrum Smith was a poet, painter, singer, philosopher, naturalist, and highly effective missionary for the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and the last son of the Mormon Prophet Joseph Smith (1805-1844) and his wife Emma Hale (1804-1879). Born after Smith's death, active in the RLDS Church, opponent of polygamy. He married Clara Charlotte Hartshorn on May 15, 1870.

He was an American religious leader, poet, painter, singer, philosopher, and naturalist. He was born approximately five months after the murder of his father. Beginning in December 1847, he was raised by his mother and her second husband, Lewis C. Bidamon.

Smith was a highly effective missionary for the RLDS Church. From 1865 to 1873, he conducted missionary trips throughout the Midwest, Utah Territory, and California, debating preachers of different theologies, including representatives of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS Church). From 1873 to 1885, Smith was a counselor to his brother Joseph Smith III in the First Presidency of the RLDS Church. He was also the father of Elbert A. Smith, who was a member of the First Presidency and a Presiding Patriarch in the RLDS Church.

Smith was called the "Sweet Singer of Israel" because many who knew him, who heard him sing, and joined him in song, stated that he was the most inspiring singer of God they had encountered. The Joseph Smith Historic Site, maintained by the Community of Christ, houses Smith's original paintings of Nauvoo, Illinois.

His mental deterioration, starting with a probable breakdown early in 1870 ended with his death in the Northern Illinois Hospital and Asylum for the Insane in Elgin, Illinois, where he had been confined for twenty-seven years.

Poetry
David’s poetry often revealed his personality and emotional struggles. I strive to win again the pleasant thought; The music only speaks in mournful tone; The very flowers wear a shade, and naught Can bring again the halo that is gone; And every company my soul hath sought, Though crowds surround me, finds me still alone.

I turn unto my tasks with weary hands, Grieving with sadness, knowing not the cause Before my face a desert path expands, I will not falter in the toil, nor pause; Only, my spirit somehow understands This mournful truth—I am not what I was.