Hearne History - Page 410

[Continued from page 408]

DEATH OF MISS LIZZIE HEARNE.


 


This morning, Sept. 1, at half past three, at her home in "Pleasant Place," Miss Lizzie passed away, "asleep in Jesus," surrounded by her loved ones of home and neighbors. She went to Lee’s Summit a short time ago, in health, to visit her sister, Mrs. Dr. Lee, and after one week was taken ill, and was very sick for several weeks, when she slowly became convalescent and was well enough to walk around for a week, when she thought she was well enough to return home, which she did last Saturday evening, not feeling quite as well before as she had for the past few days.

The ride up on the train, and extra exertion, brought on a relapse, and she became very sick the next day and continued so until the following Wednesday and Thursday, when she was thought to be much better and her recovery very hopeful; but the improvement was of but short duration, and Thursday evening, with the going down of the sun, her life began to follow out with "heart failure," and before the dawn of morning she was peacefully "at rest."

Miss Lizzie had lived in Iendependence [sic] but a few years, yet her sweet, trusting, Christian life had won for her many loving friends and this morning, while father, mother, brother, sister, and aunt are heart-broken, let me assure them that many loving hearts are in sweet sympathy with them in this sad hour of bereavement, arid that our loss is her gain, for we should not mourn her as dead, but as "asleep in Jesus."

She will be buried at Lexington, Kentucky, by the side of loved ones gone before her; and may we ever keep green the memory of her grave in our hearts, and so live that we may meet her on that bright and beautiful shore where parting is no more.
 


A FRIEND.

Independence Sentinel, Sept. 4, 1893:

THE TRIBUTE OF A FRIEND.
ON THE DEATH OF MISS LIZZIE HEARNE.

Fold her hands gently across her still breast;
Speak very softly, disturb not her rest;
Trail the white mignonette through her dark hair,
And lay a white rose on her bosom so fair.
She sleeps--wake her not, ye who loved her so well.
Would you call back her soul on this sad earth to dwell?

[Continued on page 411]


Notes:


Copyright (c) 1999, 2007 Brian Cragun.