SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF WILLENE LEACH:
My beloved niece.

Died from heart failure.

Deeply loved and missed by all her family.
Forever in my thoughts and in my heart.

We all miss you sweetheart.

A beautiful poem:

Hug me closer, closer, mother, Put your arms
around me tight,
For I am cold and tired, dear mother, And I feel
so weak tonight.
Something hurts me here, dear mother, Like a
stone upon my breast;
Oh I wonder, wonder mother, Why it is I cannot
rest.

All the day as you were working, And I lay upon
my bed,
I was trying to be patient, And to think of what
you said.
How the King, Blessed Jesus, Loves his lambs to
watch and keep,
Oh, I wish he would come and take me, In his arms
that I might sleep.

Just before the lamps were lighted: Just before
the children came,
While the room was very quiet, I heard someone
call my name.
All at once a window opened, On a field of lambs
and sheep:
Some far out were in a brook drinking: Some were
lying fast asleep.

In a moment I was looking, On a world so bright
and fair,
Which was filled with little children, And they
seemed so happy there.
They were singing oh so sweetly, Sweetest songs I
ever heard:
They were singing sweeter mother, Than our own
little birds.

But I could not see the Saviour, Tho I strained
my eyes to see,
And I wonder if he saw me, Would he speak to such
as me?
All at once a window opened; One so bright upon
me smiled,
And I knew it must be Jesus, When he said," Come
here, my child."

"Come up here, little Bessie, Come up here and
live with me,
Where little children never suffer, Suffer
through eternity."
Then I thought of all you told me, Of that bright
and happy land;
I was going when you called me, When you came and
kissed my hand.

And at first I felt so sorry, You had called, I
would go,
Oh, to sleep and never suffer, Mother, don't be
crying so.
Hug me closer, closer mother, Put your arms
around me tight.
Oh how much I love you mother, And how strong I
feel tonight.

And her mother pressed her closer, To her own
dear burdened breast,
On the heart so near it's breaking, Lay the heart
so near it's rest.
At the solemn hour of midnight, In the darkness
calm and deep,
Laying on her mother's bosom, Little Bessie fell
asleep.