Yea, they were men of truth and soberness, for they had been taught to keep the commandments of God and to walk uprightly before him.
And now it came to pass that Helaman did march at the head of his two thousand stripling soldiers, to the support of the people in the borders of the land on the south by the west sea. - Alma 53:21-22.
You likely heard about the missionaries' crusade into the stadium (at the finale of the Sesquicentennial celebration). In a stunning appearance during the grand finale, a missionary army of 3,600-4,000 "soldiers" combined voices with that of the Tabernacle Choir singing praises to God and to the pioneers. I was one of those participating that night. It indeed was an army - an army of Helaman.
The march to the stadium consisted of one large column in rows of eight. The Spirit was so strong. I looked ahead of me, and saw nothing but missionaries for blocks. I looked behind me and saw the same thing. Shivers continually strike me when I think of it.
The march down to the stadium was dignified and unusually quiet as we all felt the Spirit and paid respects to those who'd passed on before. Spectators emerged from houses, their mouths open in awe. What was this? The missionary mantle truly fell upon us. As we entered the Cougar Stadium the crowd became electrified. Cheers arose as the crowd - in absolute shock - viewed our procession singing "Called to Serve." Who can comprehend the presence of so many missionaries, carrying the Spirit of God, in one place at one time? I sang with all my heart as everlasting goose bumps immersed my body. To see people in tears during and after the performance touched me. Mingling with the crowd afterward and feeling of their sincere respect for the missionaries truly impressed me, reminding me of my mantle.
I pray we can all remember that which we represent and whose name we've taken upon ourselves. I wear it on my shirt pocket daily.