Untitled article by S. Rumer

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, January 21, 1868

Obituary Notices.

By S. Rumer

Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth.

DIED, in Jacksonville, Ill., Nov. 14, 1867, at the residence of his son, my beloved father, Israel Smith, aged eighty-two years. He was taken with the dysentery, but so far recovered, that it was supposed he would soon be around again. But one day, on getting up to have his bed made, while sitting in his rocking chair, leaning back with a pillow under his head, as he appeared to be asleep, his son's wife thought she would not disturb him, he was resting so well. In about an hour and a half, she thought she would awake him, and found she could not. By this time he breathed quite heavily, and in about two hours and a half, he was no more. Father had been a man of sorrows, having, besides many other afflictions, buried three wives, and four children. For many years he was afflicted with a fever sore, in consequence of which, his left limb was amputated above his knee. He was a lover of the present truth, but was lonely, as he was deprived of the privilege of meeting or conversing with those of like precious faith. He wrote to have his paper, the Review, continued. Said he did not know how to do without it. It seemed hard to part with my dear father; but this is my consolation, that if faithful, I shall soon meet him where death, sorrow, and sufferings will be no more.

Fare thee well my father, Until the trump shall sound, And wake thee from thy resting place, The cold and silent ground.

'Tis then we hope to meet thee, In a better world than this, Where tears are wiped from every eye, And all is perfect bliss.

No longer thou art care worn, Thy sufferings all are o'er, No trials shall afflict thee, As they have heretofore.

A star gem'd crown of glory, Shall round thy temples twine, And all the joys of Heaven, Shall be forever thine.

Thou'lt need no staff to travel, O'er the celestial plain, No friendly crutch to aid thee, Wilt ever need again.

But thou shalt range with pleasure, The verdant landscape fair: So farewell, dearest father, 'Till we shall meet you there.

S. RUMER.

Ashfield, Mass.