The subject of this notice was a lovely girl, just budding into womanhood. Although she had not reached the prime of life, she had forman exemplary christian character. She embraced the Savior while attending school at the Wesleyan Female Institute in Staunton, and the same faith which comforted her while living, did not fail to sustain and support her while crossing the river of Jordan to take up the crown which is prepared for all those who have "washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." Her sufferings were excruciating—yet she bore them patiently and without a murmur. Her last words were—"Come to Jesus."
"Gone, gone, loved one—gone from our home;
God hath recalled thee in thy youthful bloom:
Death's icy fingers rest upon thee now;
Still beauty lingers on thy pallid brow.
"Gone, gone, loved one—gone to thy tomb;
But 'tis not cheerless--hope dispels its gloom:
While we are weeping o'er the hallowed ground,
Thou art but sleeping till the trump shall sound.
"Gone, gone, loved one—gone to the blest,
Earth had its pleasures, but 'twas not thy rest:
Sin and temptation were thy sorrow here,
Now full salvation is thy portion there." S.
Staunton Spectator, September 28, 1869
The subject of this notice was a lovely girl, just budding into womanhood. Although she had not reached the prime of life, she had forman exemplary christian character. She embraced the Savior while attending school at the Wesleyan Female Institute in Staunton, and the same faith which comforted her while living, did not fail to sustain and support her while crossing the river of Jordan to take up the crown which is prepared for all those who have "washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." Her sufferings were excruciating—yet she bore them patiently and without a murmur. Her last words were—"Come to Jesus."
"Gone, gone, loved one—gone from our home;
God hath recalled thee in thy youthful bloom:
Death's icy fingers rest upon thee now;
Still beauty lingers on thy pallid brow.
"Gone, gone, loved one—gone to thy tomb;
But 'tis not cheerless--hope dispels its gloom:
While we are weeping o'er the hallowed ground,
Thou art but sleeping till the trump shall sound.
"Gone, gone, loved one—gone to the blest,
Earth had its pleasures, but 'twas not thy rest:
Sin and temptation were thy sorrow here,
Now full salvation is thy portion there." S.
Staunton Spectator, September 28, 1869
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