The daily Gate City. [volume] (Keokuk, Iowa) 1855-1916, 1915-07-13

seems like home. She murmurs in
plaintive tones that, after all her toll
and WEAKNESS, it is hard she cannot
be allowed home to die in; that she
must be sent rather than invited.
from house to house. Eighty. eighty
one-two-three-four. All! she is now
second child-now she has outlived
her usefulness; she has now ceased
to be comfort to herself or any.
body" that is, she has ceased to be
profitable to her earth-craving and
money-grabbing children.
Now sounds out, reverberating
through our lovely forest, and echoinS
back from our hill OF the dead
eighty.nine! There she now lies In
the coffin, cold and still-she makes
no trouble now, demands no love, no
soft words. no tender little offices.
look OF patient endurance, we fancted.
also. an expression of grief for unre-
Quilted love. sat on her marble fea-
lures. Her children were there clad
in weeds of woe, and in irony, we re-
.membered the strong mans voice.
"She was a good mother in her day
When the bell ceased tolling. the
strange minister rose in the pulpit,
His form was very erect, but his hair
passages Of scripture expressive OF
Gods compassion to feeble man, and
especially OF his tenderness when
gray hairs are on him and his strength
faileth. He then made some touching
remarks on human frailty, and Of de-
tendance on God, urging all present to
make their peace with their Maker
while in health. that they might claim
his promise when heart and flesh
should fail them. Then" he said,
the eternal God shall be thy refuge,
and beneath thee shall be the ever
lasting arms" Leaning over the desk
and gazing intently on the coffined
form before him. he then said rev.
erently: From a little child l have
honored the aged; but never till gray
hairs covered my own head did /
know truly how much love and SYM
pathy this class have a right to de-
mand of their own fellow creatures.
The mother" he added, most tender
ly, who now lies in death before us,
was a stranger to me as are all these,
her descendants. All I know OF her
is what her son has told me today
that she was brought to this town
from afar, siXty-nine years ago. hap.
Nv bride-that here she passed most
of her life, toiling as only mothers
have strength to toll, until she had
reared a large family OF sons and
daughters she left her home,
clad in the weeds of widowhood, to
dwell among her children. and until
health and vigor left her, she lived
for you. her descendants.
"You, who together have shared
her love and care, know how well you
~ ~rht Not
conscience should accuse any of you
of ingratitude or murmuring on &C
count Of the care she has been to yorl
! Of late When you go back to your
homes, be careful of your words and
your example. before your own chill
dren, for the fruit Of your own doings
you will surely reap from them when
you yourselves totter on the brink OF
the grave l entreat you as friend.
as the one who has himself entered
the evening of life, that you may
never say, in the presence OF your
families nor Of heaven, Our mother
had outlived her usefulness-she was
a. burden to u.s. Never, Never. A mo-
Their cannot live SO long as that. NO;
when she can no longer labor for her
children, nor yet care for herself, she
can fall like a precious weight upon
their bosoms, and call forth by her
helplessness, all the noble, generous
feeling of their natures.
"Adieu, then, poor toil-worn mother,
there are no more sleepless nights.
no more days Of pain for thee. Indy
ing vigor and everlasting usefulness
are part OF the inheritance Of the re-
deemed. Feeble as thou vert on
earth, thou wilt be no burden on the
bosom Of infinite love. but there shalt
thou find thy longed-for rest ami re-
ceive glorious sympathy from Jesus
and His ransomed fold"