The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1904-02-20
AN INCIDENT OF THE JOHNS
TOWN FLOOD.
Jesus. lover of my soul

Jesus. lover Of my soul,
I Let me to thy bosom fly"
Hank! above the angry tempest. and the
the waves that beat the shore.
Comes the sound OF some one singing
sounds voice above that roar
And the watchers filed with horror. min
gled with a GREATNESS awe,
Heard the sweet old-time music, though
the singer no enc saw
Nearer. nearer. now It's palmer. and the
words are borne along
As a soul that's fast departing, seeks
her maker with song.
And the gentle spirit parting from its
house of earthly clay.
Soon will find the b,ezseG refuge. soon
will tread the shining way.
Other refuge have | none.
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee"
Helpless, no. Thy faith shall strengthen
Thee, and Danish every fear,
! While the storm that beats above thee,
! brings the heaven still more near.
Oh, the anguish; oh. the weeping of that
awful, maddening time,
When like oil upon the waters, came the
words of that old hymn.
Though they knew no more orever,
would the singer sweetly tell
! OF the refuge from all sorrow, OF the
way that leads from hell
Leave. oh. leave me not alone.
Still support and comfort me-
Not alone upon ,.Ie waters, still thy soul
thy lord will keep.
And his hand will firm support thee.
though the waves roll wild and steep.
Fra1 thy back. but great His mercy. and
thy loved ones gone before.
VIII behold thy face in rapture, ere this
dreary night is Ger;
| Onward, still, the singer floating, swirl
ing. changing with the tide;
Weak and fraiI, alone, and dying, where
is he who made her bride?
Where the strong arms that would shield
her? where the broad and manly form?
That would brook no i'll or danger, so that
she should meet no harm.
Tell the story oh. ye pillows, that with
fury round her play,
Tell how battling bravely, grandly, did
he give his life away!
Tell the story of his daring, now he stern
ly battled death,
his latest fleeing breath.
How the shining baby ringlets that were
pillowed on his breast.
Lit there still. In deaths grim silence
that together now they rest.
While the gentle little mother. floats,
alone away,
Through the >torm and through the dark
ness, to the golden endless day.
And adown the shore the watchers greet
the singer and her song,
That no tempests's sound can deaden,
and as years shall pass, how long
Will the hymn so sweetly uttered. telling
from the gates of death
OF the old-time faith and duty that makes
calm the latest breath
All! the sneers that men may offer. with
the scholars logic deep,
Must be laid aside forever. when we
reach our final sleep;
And'the faith that Jesus taught us. in the
words of that old hymn.
And the refuge free to shelter. every
proud and wiful head.
Was the refuge of the singer making
calm her soul from dread,
As above the tempest sang she, sheltered
by an angels wing
These, her last words. family spoken:::
Simply to thy cross, l cling
Simply to the cross. Oh Savior" seemed
they all to hear her say,
As the dark waves closed above her, as
they bore her form away.
And through her all that time of sorrow.
through those days of gloom and wee,
Seemed they still to hear her singing,
singing family. sweet and slow:
Nothing in my hand, | bring.
Simply to Thy cross / cling
MONNIE MOORE LATHAM