It’s conference time in Salt Lake City,
Where flowers bloom on Temple Square.
The Saints have come by wheels or jet plane;
A special feeling fills the air.
The Tabernacle doors are open;
Now friends can meet along each aisle.
The organ thrills us with its music.
It’s conference time; the heavens smile.
Before it’s over, rain may freshen
The grounds and people outside there,
Just as the words we hear will quicken
Our thirsty hearts like answered prayer.
It’s conference time. The Brethren speak
In faith and truth—no doubt, no fear.
Then the Lord’s own chosen prophet
Will bless the people far and near.