The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1881-03-10
In Memorium. OF May Barrett.

u
breath,
From the blossom of health TO the stiffness of
DEATH"
A few brief weeks since May, with
a number of other little girls, of about
her own age, celebrated the eleventh
birthday of their playmate, Belle
Hartly, at the house of Bells father,
Dr. Hartley. Fun and frolic ran riot,
while many laugh rang out, that
happy afternoon, as they frisked about
in their innocent glee. Little they
thought that the death angel hovered
so near one Of their number.
May complained of slight head
ache in the evening, and went home
sick. Measels were soon developed.
She had apparently passed successfully
through the disease when she suffered
a relapse and decline which eliminated
in her death OH Sabbath eve the 9th
ult. Her funeral WAS at 10 o'clock on
Tuesday the 1st inst. in the Episcopal
Church.
She was borne from her home in
beautiful casket richly lined with
beautiful flowers, the tribute of kind
and loving friends. The church was
filled with the sympathetic friends
who had gathered to pay their last
respects to all that was mortal of poor
little May, Rev. Hugh Miller, of
Emporium, conducted the services
and delivered an excellent address.
He spoke of the "wonderful mysteries
of DEATH" of Christ who first un-
barred the gates of the tomb and who
threw u halo of light DER its shades.
In grapic words he pictured the resur-
rection morn when 1.-The sea shonld
give up its dead" and those that are
buried come forth and this 'mortal
put on immortality" in response to the
words Of our savior II am the Resur-
rection.n
AS the procession filled past us, down
the aisle of the church, we were struck
with the beauty of the floral cross and
Gala lilly, which lay upon the casket
and thought tits an emblem of the
immortal flower. now blooming in the
garden of Paradise.
We had often, in Sabbath school,
looked with pleasure upon the class of
eight little girls, all nearly of an age,
and now,-one is not, for God took
her. A vacant spot in the heart Of
home has she left; but truly may she
sing now, And among the Angels
shine"
TO THE MEMORY OF MAY.
There's moaning in the air,
a dirge in ev'ry breeze,
A sobbing everywhere,
And cen the very trees
Wall forth mournful sound,
AS they bend to the storm;
While dear ones gather round
A loved and dying form.
We stand beside the bed
And watch the mute appeal,
While not n word we said
AS fast the shadows steal;
While deeper grew the shade
Upon the pallid brow,
Her eyes begin TO fade.
Our hearts in anguish bow.
AS fainter grew each breath
And DINNER grew the eye,
We thought, can this be death?
And is il thus we die?
This temple God has made.
This wond rous mortal form,
| Oh, must IL surely fade
| And perish in deaths storm?
AS fades the day at eve
! In the bright summer time,
| When gentle zephyrs breathe
| Low sighs amid the pine;
So passed her spirit out,
| In low and mournfu sighs,
| While weeping friends about,
In anguish close her eyes.
Soft be each bouyant tread,
And let each voice be low,
| The presence of the dead
| Deep fun'ral shadows throw;
| While round me DER and DER,
| feel its silent power,
| Increasing more and more
| With each dread solemn hour
AS a crushed and broken flower,
| Robbed of its sweetest bloom,
| Lends fragrance for the hour
Which SAW its early doom
SO does this human rose,
rlucked by our Fathers hand,
Lend peace to our repose
| And joy at our command.
For mem'ry quickly brings
| From out its richest store.
: A fragrance which it filings
| Without it's open door;
| The pranks and sweetest ways
| OF this. our human flower,
| Then cheered the toilsome days
And lightened many an hour.
| And as we linger round
These memries as they flow,
| We listen for the sound
| OF her notes soft and low.
| We note the vacant chair.
| We see the unused book,
| And cen the very air
Seems mirrored with her look.
| We miss her bonny face.
! We miss her cheery-voice,
| We miss her from her place
| Mid playnates of her choice;
| The cheek we loved To press,
| With many loving kiss
! And ev'ry fond caress,
How sadly do we miss.
Hark through this night of woe
| A voice now whispers "peace,'-
| On Me thy sorrows throw
! And let thy mourning cease;
| he cherished flower you love
| "A mic bal N1rit n