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From: "Nancee(McMurtrey)Seifert" <>
Subject: DECATUR COUNTY JOURNAL - August 30, l883
Date: Fri, 02 Mar 2001 20:17:33 -0500


DIED:At her residence in Knox Township, Clarke County, Iowa, August 4th,
l883, of paralysis, MRS. LOURSON, wife of STEPHEN M. C. JAMES, in her
64th year.

She has long been a resident of Knox Tosnwhip, respected and loved by
all who knew her. The funeral services were held at her late residence,
Sunday, August 5th. REV. BRANCH of Murray, officiating. He is a fluent
speaker and dwelled long and touching on the merits of deceased. She
was a member of the Christian Church, and always, when her health would
permit, was found at her post of duty. She has had poor health for
years, but has borne her affliction patiently, looking forward to the
time to come when she should lay down the cross and put on the crown up
above where the weary are at rest. She was followed to her last resting
place by the largest concourse ever before seen in that neighborhood.
She was buried in Lacelle Cemetery.
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In Center Township, July 5th, MARTHA, wife of HENRY S. MILLER, aged 30
years.

She had been suffering from consumption for three years. Her maiden
name was ROSENGRANT and she was born in Decatur County. She was an
energetic woman, had many warm friends and was buried in the Dunkard
Cemetery, REV. L.M. KOB (sic) conducting the funeral services. She left
four children.
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ANNA, daughter of WM. and SUSANNA MOON, died at her father's in Woodland
Township, July l2, l883, at the age of l6 years.

Her death was caused from a stroke of lightning June 22nd. She leaves a
father, mother, brothers, sisters and many friends to mourn her loss.

How violently loud the storm doth rave,
The sea must be one mountain of white surf;
Tomorrow, when the sexton digs my grave,
How easily his spade will cut the turf.

Tomorrow, when you bend above me here
And week hot tears of loneliness and pain,
And careful hands place flowers about my bier,
Where then will be this busy wind and rain?

I stand so near the mystic infinite,
Why is it that I cannot hear and see,
Or at least obtain one brief foresight
Of what awaits me in the Great To Be?

Why is it that I cannot look beyond
And put the little Has-Been near my feet?
But no! Instead, this human heart grows fond
And earthly love seems more than ever sweet.

I, grasping in my hand eternal bliss,
Would willingly resign it love, for aye,
If I might feel your tender arms like this,
Folded about me for another day.

I know not much of Heaven, but earth is sweet,
Lift my head higher, Love, I pant for breath,
How violently loud the storm doth beat,
How cold the grave will be--and this is death!
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Copied by Nancee(McMurtrey)Seifert

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