The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1879-06-10
In MenOrian,

The following tribute, composed by Mrs. D.
S. Jones, was read by Miss Avilda S. Stevens
at the Congress street M. E. church Sunday
evening:
Members and Friends of the Sabbath School:
IL there is one hour more sacred than
another, it is when the soul, elevated above
self, enters into close communion with God
and is conscious of harmony and union with
His divine spirit. Next in quality comes the
Christians love and solicitude for little child
rem, as well as for those of ripper years. Do
not even the angels love to minister to those
who shall be heirs of salvation, and seek to
lend their keeping power to such as are weak
hayward and helpless? When the Fathers
love dwells within u.s. does He not often speak
to us in heavenly benedictions and will not the
wreath OF precious promises that the holy one
has twined for us, bind our hearts to him
self forever?
In a quiet moment of retrospection I found
myself glancing backward to the Children's
Day of one year ago. Since that memorable
Sabbath, changes have come to us dU We
have watched the year go by, with its autumn
tints of crimson and gold, its wintry robes of
whteness and the buds and blossoms of spring
time. Summer, with her floral gifts so album
dant, is now with us, and extends to each
cordial greeting. But, while memory is busy
with the past, sadness creeps into my heart as
look into your faces and find there are miss
ing ones.
Our beloved sister Pickett, who was teach
er in the Sabbath school, a leader in the mis-
sion cause, strong advocate for purity in life,
and an earnest worker in the Christian church,
has gone from us, bearing upon her heart and
life the impress of abiding faith, and upon her
brow the glory-crown Of deeds. We grieye
that she may not come to us again, but we be-
lieve and rejoice that her listening ear has
already caught the welcome greeting, "Well
done, good and faithful Of our young
friend Hattie Goodie, shall we say, she died
in beauty,
Like rose blown from its parent stem,
pearl dropped from some diadem.
Again-this evening while we are enjoying
this festive Scene-the stars are looking down up
ON a new made grave. Lizzie Thorndike is not
with us, but it is pleasant to believe that al
though her dear form must slumber there her
spirit has joined the angel band that keeps
watch over our loved ones.
Like snow on flowers dissolved away
Or star lost on the brow of day.
Yea, more, upon her youthful purity and low
illness death had no power, he only opened to
her the gate of the celestial city, and although
we may not listen to her voice again, we well
remember her last words of trust, 'I'm not
afraid" Fearlessly then she went forth to
meet Him who has said, 'Of such is the king
DOM
We read in the Word that no sorrow, pain
or death enters the pearly gates, the feet of
the white-robed ones tread the banks of the
river OF lie, and heavenly mansions are pre-
pared for them.
If we would win the crown that obedience
fashions, and walk the streets of the New
Jerusalem, we must open our hearts to the
Heavenly Guest" and believe the promise
that He will abide with us.
May we learn to love one another as He
hath loved us, and enter upon the coming year
scattering seeds of kindness and walking in
the light Of Divine truth, as revealed to us in
the life of Christ.
Friends, adieu! May the blessings of Divine
love abide with you always.