Ida Florence Reed was the fourth of Rowland and Drucilla (Unthank) Reed's five children. She died in Lauderdale, MS, while her parents were living there in the years following the Civil War. Rowland and Drucilla had gone there to teach in the freedmen's schools, set up during Reconstruction to teach the freed slaves how to read and write.
The Palladium, Richmond, IN, August 15, 1867
"DIED--At Lauderdale, Miss., on Saturday, Aug 3, Ida F., daughter of R. T. and Drucilla Reed, aged 11 years."
The Richmond (IN) Weekly Palladium, Thursday, August 8, 1867
"DIED--At Lauderdale, Miss., on Saturday last, Ida F., daughter of R. T. and Drucilla Reed, aged 11 years. Her remains were brought to this city on Wednesday evening last, and buried in Earlham Cemetery on yesterday (Thursday.)"
The American Friend,4th mo 1868
IDA FLORENCE REED
Anna 12 years, died at Lauderdale, Miss., 8th mo 5th, 1867, after a sojourn there for five months with her parents, who went for the purpose of taking care of an Orphan Asylum, and other wise laboring among the Freedmen.
The following lines, written by one of her parents, were not intended for publication, but at the request of some of the friends of the family and of the Freemen, the author has consented to their insertion in The American Friend.
Bearing now no priceless jewel,
Once erewhile, we laid a casket
Where full many a marble record
Whispers its “Memento mori;”
And, e’en now,--with sorrow chastened,--
Oft our thoughts go out and linger
Sadly round the place.
Far from home and all its pleasures,
Far from Friends and chosen comrades,
In the chained and stricken Southland,
With the dusky strangers round us,
Died the child we loved and cherished
In the bright and verdant spring-time
Of her maidenhood.
Death to one so young and tender
Comes with wreathes of roses never,
Yet to her he brought no terror
For she heard his message calmly,
Passing from us gently, softly,
Like a white cloud in the twilight
Fading from the sight.
Ah, how well I now remember,
How we used to walk together
Through the wilds of Mississippi,
Light of Heart with joy and wonder,
Plucking leaves and gath’ring flowers,
For, a garden God has planted
In that sunny land.
Brown oaks hung with hoary mosses,
Tall magnolias famed in story,
Stately pines in primal grandeur
(Forest monarchs.) where the south-wind,
Ocean born and orange scented,
Even loves to come and linger
Wail and sigh and died.
Flowers of endless form and color,
Copse with trailing vines inwoven
Where the mock-bird loves to carol,
When the midnight moon is dawning--
All that God has wrought delighted
And inspired his praise.
Yet from all we turned us ever,
To our daily care and labor,
For the poor unlettered Freedman,
And the helpless orphan children,--
Told them of a loving Savior,
South to raise their thoughts to Jesus,
And a home on high.
Disenthralled with gyves still on thee,
Free, yet hapless in thy freedom,
Child of Ham, we still deplore thee,
And a thousand hearts are yearning,
And a thousand prayers are offered,
And a thousand hands uplifted
For thy weal to-day.
Well we knew that in the cane-brake,,
And the cypress shaded river
Ever lurks the fell miasma,
And the dreaded fever demon,
Yet how little did we fear him,
‘Til our hapless child ws stricken,
And hour hearts undone!
And Oh, God! Thou only knowest
How we prayed and watched and waited
From the morning ‘til the evening,
From the evening ‘til the morning,
Watched and waited, ‘till we saw her
Robed in white and crowned with flowers
Ready for the grave.
Yet we thank thee, oh, our Savior,
Death’s dark curtain thou hast lifted,
And revealed a Heavenly country,
And a city and a mansion
Bright and glorious with thy presence--
There with palm and crown and gladness
We shall find our child.
Oh, we know the angels took her
To their home of joy and beauty,
As she talked of heaven and Jesus
As she walked the shadowy alley,
As she crossed the “rolling river,”
Yes we know the angels met her
On the other shore.
While her presence cheered our pathway,
Oft she sang in gentle numbers,
“We shall sleep, but not forever,
There will be a glorious dawning
On the Resurrection morning,”--
On that morning we shall meet her
Ne’er again to part.
Where the day is cloudless, endless,
Where the rose is thornless, fadeless,
Were the air is only fragrance,
And the eye of joy is sleepless,
And the gush of music ceaseless,
We shall find our child with Jesus--
Blessed be his name.
The Palladium, Richmond, IN, August 15, 1867
"DIED--At Lauderdale, Miss., on Saturday, Aug 3, Ida F., daughter of R. T. and Drucilla Reed, aged 11 years."
The Richmond (IN) Weekly Palladium, Thursday, August 8, 1867
"DIED--At Lauderdale, Miss., on Saturday last, Ida F., daughter of R. T. and Drucilla Reed, aged 11 years. Her remains were brought to this city on Wednesday evening last, and buried in Earlham Cemetery on yesterday (Thursday.)"
The American Friend,4th mo 1868
IDA FLORENCE REED
Anna 12 years, died at Lauderdale, Miss., 8th mo 5th, 1867, after a sojourn there for five months with her parents, who went for the purpose of taking care of an Orphan Asylum, and other wise laboring among the Freedmen.
The following lines, written by one of her parents, were not intended for publication, but at the request of some of the friends of the family and of the Freemen, the author has consented to their insertion in The American Friend.
Bearing now no priceless jewel,
Once erewhile, we laid a casket
Where full many a marble record
Whispers its “Memento mori;”
And, e’en now,--with sorrow chastened,--
Oft our thoughts go out and linger
Sadly round the place.
Far from home and all its pleasures,
Far from Friends and chosen comrades,
In the chained and stricken Southland,
With the dusky strangers round us,
Died the child we loved and cherished
In the bright and verdant spring-time
Of her maidenhood.
Death to one so young and tender
Comes with wreathes of roses never,
Yet to her he brought no terror
For she heard his message calmly,
Passing from us gently, softly,
Like a white cloud in the twilight
Fading from the sight.
Ah, how well I now remember,
How we used to walk together
Through the wilds of Mississippi,
Light of Heart with joy and wonder,
Plucking leaves and gath’ring flowers,
For, a garden God has planted
In that sunny land.
Brown oaks hung with hoary mosses,
Tall magnolias famed in story,
Stately pines in primal grandeur
(Forest monarchs.) where the south-wind,
Ocean born and orange scented,
Even loves to come and linger
Wail and sigh and died.
Flowers of endless form and color,
Copse with trailing vines inwoven
Where the mock-bird loves to carol,
When the midnight moon is dawning--
All that God has wrought delighted
And inspired his praise.
Yet from all we turned us ever,
To our daily care and labor,
For the poor unlettered Freedman,
And the helpless orphan children,--
Told them of a loving Savior,
South to raise their thoughts to Jesus,
And a home on high.
Disenthralled with gyves still on thee,
Free, yet hapless in thy freedom,
Child of Ham, we still deplore thee,
And a thousand hearts are yearning,
And a thousand prayers are offered,
And a thousand hands uplifted
For thy weal to-day.
Well we knew that in the cane-brake,,
And the cypress shaded river
Ever lurks the fell miasma,
And the dreaded fever demon,
Yet how little did we fear him,
‘Til our hapless child ws stricken,
And hour hearts undone!
And Oh, God! Thou only knowest
How we prayed and watched and waited
From the morning ‘til the evening,
From the evening ‘til the morning,
Watched and waited, ‘till we saw her
Robed in white and crowned with flowers
Ready for the grave.
Yet we thank thee, oh, our Savior,
Death’s dark curtain thou hast lifted,
And revealed a Heavenly country,
And a city and a mansion
Bright and glorious with thy presence--
There with palm and crown and gladness
We shall find our child.
Oh, we know the angels took her
To their home of joy and beauty,
As she talked of heaven and Jesus
As she walked the shadowy alley,
As she crossed the “rolling river,”
Yes we know the angels met her
On the other shore.
While her presence cheered our pathway,
Oft she sang in gentle numbers,
“We shall sleep, but not forever,
There will be a glorious dawning
On the Resurrection morning,”--
On that morning we shall meet her
Ne’er again to part.
Where the day is cloudless, endless,
Where the rose is thornless, fadeless,
Were the air is only fragrance,
And the eye of joy is sleepless,
And the gush of music ceaseless,
We shall find our child with Jesus--
Blessed be his name.
Ida Florence Reed was the fourth of Rowland and Drucilla (Unthank) Reed's five children. She died in Lauderdale, MS, while her parents were living there in the years following the Civil War. Rowland and Drucilla had gone there to teach in the freedmen's schools, set up during Reconstruction to teach the freed slaves how to read and write.
The Palladium, Richmond, IN, August 15, 1867
"DIED--At Lauderdale, Miss., on Saturday, Aug 3, Ida F., daughter of R. T. and Drucilla Reed, aged 11 years."
The Richmond (IN) Weekly Palladium, Thursday, August 8, 1867
"DIED--At Lauderdale, Miss., on Saturday last, Ida F., daughter of R. T. and Drucilla Reed, aged 11 years. Her remains were brought to this city on Wednesday evening last, and buried in Earlham Cemetery on yesterday (Thursday.)"
The American Friend,4th mo 1868
IDA FLORENCE REED
Anna 12 years, died at Lauderdale, Miss., 8th mo 5th, 1867, after a sojourn there for five months with her parents, who went for the purpose of taking care of an Orphan Asylum, and other wise laboring among the Freedmen.
The following lines, written by one of her parents, were not intended for publication, but at the request of some of the friends of the family and of the Freemen, the author has consented to their insertion in The American Friend.
Bearing now no priceless jewel,
Once erewhile, we laid a casket
Where full many a marble record
Whispers its “Memento mori;”
And, e’en now,--with sorrow chastened,--
Oft our thoughts go out and linger
Sadly round the place.
Far from home and all its pleasures,
Far from Friends and chosen comrades,
In the chained and stricken Southland,
With the dusky strangers round us,
Died the child we loved and cherished
In the bright and verdant spring-time
Of her maidenhood.
Death to one so young and tender
Comes with wreathes of roses never,
Yet to her he brought no terror
For she heard his message calmly,
Passing from us gently, softly,
Like a white cloud in the twilight
Fading from the sight.
Ah, how well I now remember,
How we used to walk together
Through the wilds of Mississippi,
Light of Heart with joy and wonder,
Plucking leaves and gath’ring flowers,
For, a garden God has planted
In that sunny land.
Brown oaks hung with hoary mosses,
Tall magnolias famed in story,
Stately pines in primal grandeur
(Forest monarchs.) where the south-wind,
Ocean born and orange scented,
Even loves to come and linger
Wail and sigh and died.
Flowers of endless form and color,
Copse with trailing vines inwoven
Where the mock-bird loves to carol,
When the midnight moon is dawning--
All that God has wrought delighted
And inspired his praise.
Yet from all we turned us ever,
To our daily care and labor,
For the poor unlettered Freedman,
And the helpless orphan children,--
Told them of a loving Savior,
South to raise their thoughts to Jesus,
And a home on high.
Disenthralled with gyves still on thee,
Free, yet hapless in thy freedom,
Child of Ham, we still deplore thee,
And a thousand hearts are yearning,
And a thousand prayers are offered,
And a thousand hands uplifted
For thy weal to-day.
Well we knew that in the cane-brake,,
And the cypress shaded river
Ever lurks the fell miasma,
And the dreaded fever demon,
Yet how little did we fear him,
‘Til our hapless child ws stricken,
And hour hearts undone!
And Oh, God! Thou only knowest
How we prayed and watched and waited
From the morning ‘til the evening,
From the evening ‘til the morning,
Watched and waited, ‘till we saw her
Robed in white and crowned with flowers
Ready for the grave.
Yet we thank thee, oh, our Savior,
Death’s dark curtain thou hast lifted,
And revealed a Heavenly country,
And a city and a mansion
Bright and glorious with thy presence--
There with palm and crown and gladness
We shall find our child.
Oh, we know the angels took her
To their home of joy and beauty,
As she talked of heaven and Jesus
As she walked the shadowy alley,
As she crossed the “rolling river,”
Yes we know the angels met her
On the other shore.
While her presence cheered our pathway,
Oft she sang in gentle numbers,
“We shall sleep, but not forever,
There will be a glorious dawning
On the Resurrection morning,”--
On that morning we shall meet her
Ne’er again to part.
Where the day is cloudless, endless,
Where the rose is thornless, fadeless,
Were the air is only fragrance,
And the eye of joy is sleepless,
And the gush of music ceaseless,
We shall find our child with Jesus--
Blessed be his name.
The Palladium, Richmond, IN, August 15, 1867
"DIED--At Lauderdale, Miss., on Saturday, Aug 3, Ida F., daughter of R. T. and Drucilla Reed, aged 11 years."
The Richmond (IN) Weekly Palladium, Thursday, August 8, 1867
"DIED--At Lauderdale, Miss., on Saturday last, Ida F., daughter of R. T. and Drucilla Reed, aged 11 years. Her remains were brought to this city on Wednesday evening last, and buried in Earlham Cemetery on yesterday (Thursday.)"
The American Friend,4th mo 1868
IDA FLORENCE REED
Anna 12 years, died at Lauderdale, Miss., 8th mo 5th, 1867, after a sojourn there for five months with her parents, who went for the purpose of taking care of an Orphan Asylum, and other wise laboring among the Freedmen.
The following lines, written by one of her parents, were not intended for publication, but at the request of some of the friends of the family and of the Freemen, the author has consented to their insertion in The American Friend.
Bearing now no priceless jewel,
Once erewhile, we laid a casket
Where full many a marble record
Whispers its “Memento mori;”
And, e’en now,--with sorrow chastened,--
Oft our thoughts go out and linger
Sadly round the place.
Far from home and all its pleasures,
Far from Friends and chosen comrades,
In the chained and stricken Southland,
With the dusky strangers round us,
Died the child we loved and cherished
In the bright and verdant spring-time
Of her maidenhood.
Death to one so young and tender
Comes with wreathes of roses never,
Yet to her he brought no terror
For she heard his message calmly,
Passing from us gently, softly,
Like a white cloud in the twilight
Fading from the sight.
Ah, how well I now remember,
How we used to walk together
Through the wilds of Mississippi,
Light of Heart with joy and wonder,
Plucking leaves and gath’ring flowers,
For, a garden God has planted
In that sunny land.
Brown oaks hung with hoary mosses,
Tall magnolias famed in story,
Stately pines in primal grandeur
(Forest monarchs.) where the south-wind,
Ocean born and orange scented,
Even loves to come and linger
Wail and sigh and died.
Flowers of endless form and color,
Copse with trailing vines inwoven
Where the mock-bird loves to carol,
When the midnight moon is dawning--
All that God has wrought delighted
And inspired his praise.
Yet from all we turned us ever,
To our daily care and labor,
For the poor unlettered Freedman,
And the helpless orphan children,--
Told them of a loving Savior,
South to raise their thoughts to Jesus,
And a home on high.
Disenthralled with gyves still on thee,
Free, yet hapless in thy freedom,
Child of Ham, we still deplore thee,
And a thousand hearts are yearning,
And a thousand prayers are offered,
And a thousand hands uplifted
For thy weal to-day.
Well we knew that in the cane-brake,,
And the cypress shaded river
Ever lurks the fell miasma,
And the dreaded fever demon,
Yet how little did we fear him,
‘Til our hapless child ws stricken,
And hour hearts undone!
And Oh, God! Thou only knowest
How we prayed and watched and waited
From the morning ‘til the evening,
From the evening ‘til the morning,
Watched and waited, ‘till we saw her
Robed in white and crowned with flowers
Ready for the grave.
Yet we thank thee, oh, our Savior,
Death’s dark curtain thou hast lifted,
And revealed a Heavenly country,
And a city and a mansion
Bright and glorious with thy presence--
There with palm and crown and gladness
We shall find our child.
Oh, we know the angels took her
To their home of joy and beauty,
As she talked of heaven and Jesus
As she walked the shadowy alley,
As she crossed the “rolling river,”
Yes we know the angels met her
On the other shore.
While her presence cheered our pathway,
Oft she sang in gentle numbers,
“We shall sleep, but not forever,
There will be a glorious dawning
On the Resurrection morning,”--
On that morning we shall meet her
Ne’er again to part.
Where the day is cloudless, endless,
Where the rose is thornless, fadeless,
Were the air is only fragrance,
And the eye of joy is sleepless,
And the gush of music ceaseless,
We shall find our child with Jesus--
Blessed be his name.
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