Mormon 6

Gathering at Cumorah

I, Mormon, now finish my account of how my people, the Nephites, were destroyed. We marched out to meet the Lamanites.

I wrote a letter to the Lamanite king and asked him to let us gather our people at a place called Cumorah, near a hill by the same name. There we would face them in battle. The Lamanite king agreed to my request.

We marched to Cumorah and set up camp around the hill. It was a region with many waters—rivers, streams, and springs. We hoped the terrain would give us some advantage over the Lamanites. By the year 384, we had gathered every last surviving Nephite to Cumorah.

Once everyone had assembled, I realized I was getting old. I knew this would be our final stand. The Lord had commanded me not to let the sacred records fall into Lamanite hands—they would destroy them. So I took the plates of Nephi and made this record, then hid all the records the Lord had entrusted to me in the hill Cumorah. The only plates I kept out were the few I gave to my son Moroni.

The Final Battle

Then my people—with their wives and children—looked out and saw the Lamanite armies marching toward them. That terrible fear of death that grips the wicked filled their hearts as they waited.

When the Lamanites came at us, every soul was filled with terror. Their numbers were overwhelming.

They fell on my people with swords, bows, arrows, axes—every kind of weapon.

My warriors were cut down. All ten thousand who fought under my command fell. I was wounded and collapsed, but somehow they passed me by without finishing me off.

The Morning After

After they had slaughtered everyone except twenty-four of us—including my son Moroni—we survivors climbed to the top of Cumorah the next morning, after the Lamanites had returned to their camps. From there we looked out over the ten thousand I had led, all of them dead. We saw the ten thousand Moroni had commanded, all fallen.

Gidgiddonah and his ten thousand lay dead. Lamah with his ten thousand. Gilgal with his ten thousand. Limhah with his ten thousand. Joneam with his ten thousand. Cumenihah, Moronihah, Antionum, Shiblom, Shem, and Josh—each with their ten thousand. Ten more commanders fell with their ten thousand each. Our entire nation—except for the twenty-four with me, a few who had fled south, and a few who had deserted to the Lamanites—lay dead. Their bodies, flesh and bone and blood, covered the ground, left to decay and return to the earth.

Mormon’s Lament

My soul was torn apart with grief over the slaughter of my people. I cried out:

'My beautiful people, how could you turn away from the Lord? How could you reject Jesus, who stood with open arms ready to receive you?' 'If you hadn’t done this, you wouldn’t have fallen. But here you lie, and I mourn your loss.'

'My sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, husbands and wives—my beautiful people—how could this have happened to you?' 'But you’re gone now, and no amount of grief can bring you back.'

'The day is coming soon when you’ll put on immortality, when these bodies now rotting in the dirt will become incorruptible. Then you’ll stand before Christ’s judgment seat to be judged for what you’ve done. If you lived right, you’ll be reunited with your ancestors who’ve gone before you.' 'If only you had repented before this destruction came. But you’re gone now, and the eternal Father knows your condition. He will deal with you according to his justice and mercy.'