Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1893-05-25
OUR MOTHER

OUR MOT HER
The shadow Of Death that hovers
above and waits for US all, has again
entered a home, and taken therefrOm q
precious mother; nay. cal it not a
shadow; it was an angel from heaven
descended and gently loosed the cords
of a fratl earthly tabernacle, and set
another angel free from the suffering
and trials of this tumultuous life.
Rhoda, wife of Lorenzo Dow French,
died on the morning of April 20, after
an illness of little less than a year.
She was born in La Fayette, Indiana,
February 20, 1928, aud has been a resi-
dent of Lancaster for two and one half
years. She has tenderly and lovingly
reared eight children all of whom
survive her, and have reached maturity.
The sorrowing husband still is spared,
but is lettering upon the palsied throne
of eighty six years.
Never before have we who are left to
mourn the death of wife and mother,
realized how few are the joys of this
world after the best and dearest of all
earthly friends has been called to that
sphere which keeps the disembodied
spirits of the dead. Nothing can fill
the vacant place that mother has left
She lived but for the pleasure of con-
tributing to the wants and enjoyment
of those in whom her heart was
centered. Her every thought was one
OF solicitatiousness for their welfare.
Always of sweet, retiring. cheerful,
unassuming nature, her life has been a
ministry of love. and the desire to walk
ahead of her children, and unhinching,
" pluck with her own dear fingers
the thorns from the pathway of life.
leaving for them only path of flowers,
smoothed by her hand, her serene, mild
nature casting a halo of love around it.
Day after day we think what she is
doing in those bright realms of air, and
in Imagination behold her face beauti-
full with the SOULS expansion. And
though our swelling hearts heave with
emotions and anguish inexpressible, we
will try to be patient and assuage our
grief by being silent, and sanctifling
Father than concoaling the grief with
which>our hearts are filled These sad
-Ttlfi1 sons are oftentimes celestial. bene-
dict1ons, and as we bend -o'er our
mother bier, the bitter tears falling
ing like rain, Hope may, if our fesolu-
tions for the future -be right, plant
within our hearts the sweet consolation
that she is with God, and will guide
our footsteps through this world,
and finally in brighter, happier
sphere, we may be permitted once
more to be folded to her heart.
She is not dead, but slumbering-
enjoying that "Sweet Rest 'or which
she so fervently prayed. Lingering
upon the portal of Death, in that great
cloister's stiffness and seclusion, lead
by guardian angels. she is far from
pain, safe from temptation and SINS
pollution.
Dear mother! Fond memory will
point our hearts to thee, knowing that
the heart whose tenderest throDs were
given to those she held enshrined, will
demand us there, and that you will
utter our names in silent prayer in
heaven, and in broader movements of
the unfettered mind, will not forget the
love that joined us here The star of
thy lite has only gone down to rise
again upon a fairer shore, where it will
shine in heavens jeweled crown
through all eternity.
She is not dead An angel form
walked DER the earth with silent tread,
and gathered her home. leaving our
hearts sd and desolate. That. sweet
voice whose soothing tones made glad
the scenes of this world, is singing now
around the tree of life.
But gently bear the wearied form
Into the phan tom bark.
She will not fear-Christ went before
The way win not be dark:
And safe beyond that troubled stream.
Her kind hearts strife DER,
cur angel mother gloFifed,
VIII grow old nevcrmore.
T.. r r.
UNCLAIMED LETTERS
IA 8 r.