Montgomery County sentinel., 1891-09-25
In Memnriam.

"Be quiet make no noise do not be
frightened p were of the last words of Mr.
Samuel Jones, who died at his late residence
near Glen, on the afternoon OF the 14th in
slant, in the 72nd year OF his age
"Be quietw The hour of the souls de-
parture is at hand, earth is fading from its
vision, time is gliding from its presence
Hopes that cluster around young life, that
swell in the bosom of manhood have fal len
| around il like the forest leaves, when the
frosts of Autumn have chilled them into
death. Ambition with its hollow promises
and pride with its lofty looks have van
ished away. The world, with its deceitful
ness, with its gay temptations, has gone, and
| alone, in utter destltution of all that time
promised, it must start on its solemn jour
ney across the valley of the shadow of
death-and
"Can storied urn, or animated bust
Back TO its mansion call the ieeting
breathp
Can honors voice provoke the silent dust,
Or fattery soothe the dun cold ear of
death 2"
"Make no noisew Let the tumult of life
cease. Let no sound break the souls com
munion with itself ere it starts on its re-
turnless flight Trouble it not with the
accents OF sorrow. Let the tear stand still
on the cheek OF affiiction, and let not the
wailing Of grief break the solemn silence of
the death scene. Let 1t gather the accents
that come from within the dark shadows OF
eternity, saying To 1t, come home. Afar off
music comes floating to it on the air. 'Tis
the sound OF the heavenly harps touched by
vlewless fingers-mar not the harmony by
the discord Of earth
"Do not be frightened" |" Let me die
fha nNtfo tl.n sr,r
and warning with human destiny are over
honors won must be resigned, and all the
triumphs that come within the range oi
human achievements must be thrown away
"rhe boast OF heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er
gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour,
The path OF glory leads but to the grave y
The past, with its trials, its transgressons,
its accumuating responsibilities, its cling
ing memories, its vanished hopes is render
| ing up the luture account-disturb not the
| quiet OF that awful reckoning. Speak not
OF fading memories, or affections whose Oh
jects perish in their loveiness like the flow
ers OF Spring or whittier in u slow decay,
Talk not OF an earthly home where loved
ones linger, where a seat will soon be vacant,
cherished voice huShed forever, or OF the
desolation that will seat itself by the hearth
stone. The soul is at peace with God, let il
pass calmly away. Heaven is opening up
on its vision. The bright turrets, the tall
spires, the holy domes OF the Eternal City
are emerging from spectral darkness, and
the glory OF the Most High is drawing
around them. The white throne is gisten
ing in the distance, aud the white robed
angels are beckonlng e weary spirit To its
everlasting home. VII is life that it shou i'd
be clung to longery What the joys Of the
world that they should be regretted What
has earth to place before the spirit OF man
to tempt its stay or turn it from It's eternal
rest?
In the solemn stiffness of that awlu
moment, when heart-strlngs do Lwang and
snap under the narrowing melody that the
Angel of Death plays upon them--in the
soft gush OF that early Antumn's sun wher
the home circle, relatives and friends stood
with uncovered and bowed heads--tht
/ newly made earth rs it closed in upon his
tongueless chamber, seemed TO shape itsel
into words and murmur, "Be quiet-make
no noise"--this is the last OF earth-"do moi
be frightened"--th soul is with its God.
Rockville Sept. 10, '9l W. X.