Married Rev. Jacob Albert Frye, 8 April 1875 in Ludington, Mercer, Michigan by Rev. L. Kimmerlin.
All nature seemed to sympathize and a mournful sadness prevaded over all the scene as the waxen form of our beloved one lay cold and still in the casket. The golden sun had hid his face beneath the horizon and closed one of the saddest days of our lives, for the beloved one was gone from us and none could ever fill her place!
Two little babes were left motherless, a husband left compaionless - to him the sun seemed set forever - the light of his life had gone out. He was left alone in his sorrow, for none sorrowed as he did. His home was left desolate - its empty, only echoed back the hollow tread of muffled feet. The voice that used to sound so sweet to his ear was hushed forever, and now even the casket containing that lovely form must be borne away. Aye out into the still night - in the twilight she was borne to the hearse, and a long sad procession followed along the dusty highway with muffled wheel slowly and sadly - no word spoken save in whispering tones.
The tramping of the horses hoofs sound'a melancholy sound'
The River Raisin lay like a sheet of silver, not a ripple on its glassy surface that reflected back every leaf of the trees hanging over it - in all the brilliant beauty of October's rich coloring, and not a breeze stirred their boughs. The evening star in his silent beauty seemed to lead the way to the resting place of our loved one and to remind us of the Star of Bethlehem that led the shephards to the Redeemer.
We will follow the bright and morning star till we reach the Shore where Thou art, and there we will meet our "Ella" again enjoying the rest she so longed for!
Many were in that funeral procession - some eyes looked on curiously - many were filled with tears of sympathy - a few hearts were full of sorrow and one with desolation.
Written by Charlotte P. "Taylor" Gibson, for her daughter Mary Ellen "Gibson" Frye.
Bible records state that Mary died in Monroe, Monroe, Michigan and was buried in Litchfield, Hillsdale, Michigan.
All nature seemed to sympathize and a mournful sadness prevaded over all the scene as the waxen form of our beloved one lay cold and still in the casket. The golden sun had hid his face beneath the horizon and closed one of the saddest days of our lives, for the beloved one was gone from us and none could ever fill her place!
Two little babes were left motherless, a husband left compaionless - to him the sun seemed set forever - the light of his life had gone out. He was left alone in his sorrow, for none sorrowed as he did. His home was left desolate - its empty, only echoed back the hollow tread of muffled feet. The voice that used to sound so sweet to his ear was hushed forever, and now even the casket containing that lovely form must be borne away. Aye out into the still night - in the twilight she was borne to the hearse, and a long sad procession followed along the dusty highway with muffled wheel slowly and sadly - no word spoken save in whispering tones.
The tramping of the horses hoofs sound'a melancholy sound'
The River Raisin lay like a sheet of silver, not a ripple on its glassy surface that reflected back every leaf of the trees hanging over it - in all the brilliant beauty of October's rich coloring, and not a breeze stirred their boughs. The evening star in his silent beauty seemed to lead the way to the resting place of our loved one and to remind us of the Star of Bethlehem that led the shephards to the Redeemer.
We will follow the bright and morning star till we reach the Shore where Thou art, and there we will meet our "Ella" again enjoying the rest she so longed for!
Many were in that funeral procession - some eyes looked on curiously - many were filled with tears of sympathy - a few hearts were full of sorrow and one with desolation.
Written by Charlotte P. "Taylor" Gibson, for her daughter Mary Ellen "Gibson" Frye.
Bible records state that Mary died in Monroe, Monroe, Michigan and was buried in Litchfield, Hillsdale, Michigan.
Married Rev. Jacob Albert Frye, 8 April 1875 in Ludington, Mercer, Michigan by Rev. L. Kimmerlin.
All nature seemed to sympathize and a mournful sadness prevaded over all the scene as the waxen form of our beloved one lay cold and still in the casket. The golden sun had hid his face beneath the horizon and closed one of the saddest days of our lives, for the beloved one was gone from us and none could ever fill her place!
Two little babes were left motherless, a husband left compaionless - to him the sun seemed set forever - the light of his life had gone out. He was left alone in his sorrow, for none sorrowed as he did. His home was left desolate - its empty, only echoed back the hollow tread of muffled feet. The voice that used to sound so sweet to his ear was hushed forever, and now even the casket containing that lovely form must be borne away. Aye out into the still night - in the twilight she was borne to the hearse, and a long sad procession followed along the dusty highway with muffled wheel slowly and sadly - no word spoken save in whispering tones.
The tramping of the horses hoofs sound'a melancholy sound'
The River Raisin lay like a sheet of silver, not a ripple on its glassy surface that reflected back every leaf of the trees hanging over it - in all the brilliant beauty of October's rich coloring, and not a breeze stirred their boughs. The evening star in his silent beauty seemed to lead the way to the resting place of our loved one and to remind us of the Star of Bethlehem that led the shephards to the Redeemer.
We will follow the bright and morning star till we reach the Shore where Thou art, and there we will meet our "Ella" again enjoying the rest she so longed for!
Many were in that funeral procession - some eyes looked on curiously - many were filled with tears of sympathy - a few hearts were full of sorrow and one with desolation.
Written by Charlotte P. "Taylor" Gibson, for her daughter Mary Ellen "Gibson" Frye.
Bible records state that Mary died in Monroe, Monroe, Michigan and was buried in Litchfield, Hillsdale, Michigan.
All nature seemed to sympathize and a mournful sadness prevaded over all the scene as the waxen form of our beloved one lay cold and still in the casket. The golden sun had hid his face beneath the horizon and closed one of the saddest days of our lives, for the beloved one was gone from us and none could ever fill her place!
Two little babes were left motherless, a husband left compaionless - to him the sun seemed set forever - the light of his life had gone out. He was left alone in his sorrow, for none sorrowed as he did. His home was left desolate - its empty, only echoed back the hollow tread of muffled feet. The voice that used to sound so sweet to his ear was hushed forever, and now even the casket containing that lovely form must be borne away. Aye out into the still night - in the twilight she was borne to the hearse, and a long sad procession followed along the dusty highway with muffled wheel slowly and sadly - no word spoken save in whispering tones.
The tramping of the horses hoofs sound'a melancholy sound'
The River Raisin lay like a sheet of silver, not a ripple on its glassy surface that reflected back every leaf of the trees hanging over it - in all the brilliant beauty of October's rich coloring, and not a breeze stirred their boughs. The evening star in his silent beauty seemed to lead the way to the resting place of our loved one and to remind us of the Star of Bethlehem that led the shephards to the Redeemer.
We will follow the bright and morning star till we reach the Shore where Thou art, and there we will meet our "Ella" again enjoying the rest she so longed for!
Many were in that funeral procession - some eyes looked on curiously - many were filled with tears of sympathy - a few hearts were full of sorrow and one with desolation.
Written by Charlotte P. "Taylor" Gibson, for her daughter Mary Ellen "Gibson" Frye.
Bible records state that Mary died in Monroe, Monroe, Michigan and was buried in Litchfield, Hillsdale, Michigan.
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