Extracted from The Comrade (Winnfield, LA)
In Memoriam
MARGARET STONE GRISHAM was born September 1906 and became an angel a 8 p.m. Friday, Jan. 14.
Again has Death, that harbinger of the greatest sorrow that comes to human hearts, entered one of our happiest homes and carried away the happiest and best. If mortal ear could hear the rustle of the angels' wings they would have heard them on Friday evening when they wafted the pure white soul of little Margaret away to the God who gave it.
She had been ill for more than two weeks and the varying stages of the disease had been watched with as much anxiety by a large circle of sympathizing friends. Everything that human skill and loving hands could do was done for the little sufferer, but all in vain. Her little soul was released at 8 o'clock on Friday, last,
``When the arrows of sunset
Nevermore till the day star of Eternity gilds the eastern sky will we see her little form; nevermore till we walk the golden streets will we hear the patter of the little feet; nevermore till we join in the everlasting chorus of God and his angels will we hear the sweet voice; but God knows what is best for His children. May the loved ones by able to say with resignation:
``Since thou hast called me to resign,
I will always hold in memory a picture of her as I saw her last -- a vision of health and beauty. There never was a little being more fitted to be an angel -- beautiful violet-blue eyes, golden curls, rosy cheeks, with such a look of intelligence in the sweet little face. Surely she was already an angel, just lent for three short years to the father and mother to draw them nearer to Him who gave her. ``God gives us love, but something to love he lendeth.''
She was a pure, white rosebud, not snatched with ruthless hands to be withered and dead, but carefully transplanted to fields of gold in the New Jerusalem, three to join the never-fading garlands of the angels, and bloom throughout eternity.
Sympathizing friends will miss the fair-haired child, because she crept into one's heart imperceptibly, but they cannot, by their words of sympathy, assuage the terrible grief of the heart-broken family. With sad hearts and empty arms they must look to Him who never makes a mistake.
May this great sorrow become to these sad hearts a consecration. This little one gone before will be the tie that binds them to all high and holy things, the magnet that will draw them heavenward and help them daily to fit themselves to dwell forever with her in the beautiful home of the soul. Heaven can never be a strange, far-away place to them any more because little Margaret is there. All that is needed for her soul's full developement, God will give her, and he will keep her her safe and happy for them. With what loving kindness He has lifted the little feet, and placed them safely on the other shore.
A FRIEND
Friday, January 21, 1910
Had lodged in the treetops bright,
She fell in her saint-like beauty
Asleep by the gates of Light.''
What most I prized,
It ne'er was mine,
I only yield to thee what is thine.
Thy will be done.''