Mexico weekly ledger., 1894-09-27
IN MEMORY OF MRS. MARY E. SIMS

''Heimgang: Quaint and tender saying
In the grand old German tongue,
That hath shaped Melancthon's praying,
And the hy mus that Luther sung.
Blessed is our loving Maker
That where'er our footsteps roam,
Still We journey toward Gods Acre
Heimgang: Always going home
The almost lifelong friend TO whom
this simple tribute of love is rendered
needs no eulogy. Her life has been
like an open book which all al read.
She needs no epitaph written upon
marble or stone, for it is engraved in
delibly in the living hearts of not only
relatives and friends, but the suffer.
ing, the poor and afflicted on every
side; there was no man OF woman too
low or degraded for her loving Christ
ian heart and hand to strive to lift up
and lead to better things.
Hearts at the sound of thy coming were
lightened,
Ready and willing thy hand to relieve:
Many a face at thy kind words has
frightened,
1T is more blessed to give than receive,
Grown old happily: blest we believe
For nearly fifty years she earnestly
struggled to live a Christian life. One
Sunday morning during one of her
lucid intervals she repeated the first
verse of the 103d Psalm, "Bless the
Lord, oh! my soul, and forget not al
His benefits" Even with pain and
partial Inconsistencies her mind held
firm to the only thing we can trust in
life or death. 'FAITHEULNEsS''might,
in very truth, have been written up
| on her coffin lid. Her trust in Gods
promises were SO strong that her feet
seemed to have grown in the Rock OF
Ages, rendering her immovable in all
things she thought duty and right.
Well might we sing for her going
home:
How firm a foundation, ye Saints of the Lord
Is laid for your faith in His excellent word
AS we laid the flowers around and
about her with loving hands as the
last service our hearts could give, it
SS"Ai'S' "i'oi Iva "iliiool MY years Vi
service and waiting for the Bride
groom, like a golden wedding, or an
eternal birthday, that she was only
passing through a dark archway into
the glorious light of the Palace of the
King where joy, peace and rest await
ed in that city that hath no need of the
sun II moon to give light, for s'the
| glory of God and of the Lamb are the
light thereof"
With all this seen by the ~ OF
faith how can we grleve? "Then to
die is GAIN beyond our finite power
to conceive.
1t was a going home after a useful
life. Many sorrowing brothers, sisters
and friends stood around her dying
bed, while she peacefully-feIl asleep;
but the saddest part of such a scene
was not there. No sorrow-stricken
husband hopelessly looked upon her
face; no tender-eyed little children
looked into our faces with fearful Won
DEF at what they could not under
stand; no dear old gray-haired mother
in her helplessness leaned heavily on
our sympathy. To all these she had
been faithful, and the loving father
had taken them, one by one, into His
AVVPtbS sSIu INV Lie HAS tdliE1 tL6E I'd
join them, who, with loving hearts and
outstretehed arms, have welcomed her
home.
Truly there is something joyful, al
most triumphant, in such a going
home. SO that with Alice Carey she
could sing:
My soul is full of whispered song.
Ny blindness is my sight;
The shadows that 1 feared so long
Are all alive with light.
And while my pulses family beat.
My faith doth so abound;
] feel grow firm beneath my feet
The green immortal ground.
The palace walls l almost see.
Where dwells my Lord and King:
O Grave! where is thy victory