Julia Ann Moore: Verses about Death

He is sleeping, sounding sleeping
In the cold and silent tomb.
He is resting, sweetly resting
In perfect peace, all alone.

He has left us, God bereft us,
And his will must e'er be done,
It will grieve us, and bereave us
To think of this noble son.

While on earth he done his duty,
To all his fellow men,
Some will miss him in his of office,
Where he often used the pen.

He was witty, always happy,
Kind and genial in his way;
He was generous in his actions,
And his honor could display.

He has held many an office,
And has done his duty well;
And his name will be remembered
By the friends that knew him well.

Friends are weeping, softly weeping,
In his kind and loving home;
Let him slumber, sweetly slumber,
Till God calls him from the tomb.

Fold her hands upon her breast,
And let her sweetly sleep.
She has found a perfect rest,
Beneath her winding sheet.

Her weary limbs are now at rest,
And free from toil and pain;
Her weary soul from earth has left,
But in Heaven lives again.

Death has closed her mild blue eyes,
That once was full of mirth,
Her lovely form once full of life,
Will now return to earth.

Touch her gently, let her lie,
This forsaken girl forlorn;
Tears may fall from strangers' eyes,
O'er her silent form.

She was a poor erring girl,
A wanderer alone,
Friends she had none in this world,
Nor a place she could call home.

She's found a home bright and fair
In that world above,
Angels dwell together there,
In perfect peace and love,

Place her gently in her grave,
And let her sweetly sleep.
Judge her not; for he who gave
Her life, her soul will keep.

Air -- "The Major's Only Son"


Come all good people, far and near,
Oh, come and see what you can hear,
It's of a young man, true and brave,
Who is now sleeping in his grave.

Now, William Upson was his name --
If it's not that it's all the same --
He did enlist in the cruel strife,
And it caused him to lose his life.

He was Jesse Upson's eldest son,
His father loved his noble son;
This son was nineteen years of age,
In the rebellion he engaged.

His father said that he might go,
But his dear mother she said no.
"Stay at home, dear Billy," she said,
But oh, she could not turn his head.

For go he would, and go he did --
He would not do as his mother bid,
For he went away down South, there
Where he could not have his mother's care.

He went to Nashville, Tennessee,
There his kind friends he could not see;
He died among strangers, far away,
They knew not where his body lay.

He was taken sick and lived four weeks,
And oh, how his parents weep,
But now they must in sorrow mourn,
Billy has gone to his heaven home.

If his mother could have seen her son,
For she loved him, her darling one,
If she could heard his dying prayer,
It would ease her heart till she met him there.

It would relieved his mother's heart,
To have seen her son from this world depart,
And hear his noble words of love,
As he left this world for that above.

It will relieve his mother's heart,
That her son is laid in our grave yard;
Now she knows that his grave is near,
She will not shed so many tears.

She knows not that it was her son,
His coffin could not be opened --
It might be some one in his place,
For she could not see his noble face.

He enrolled in eighteen sixty-three,
The next day after Christmas eve;
He died in eighteen sixty-four,
Twenty-third of March, as I was told.

The yellow fever was raging,
Down in the sunny south;
And in many of the cities,
There was a death at every house.
This plague a war was raging,
With the lives of people there;
The young and old were stricken down,
And lay in sad despair.

No comfort, all was misery
In many a southern home.
Where once was peace and quietness,
Now in distress are thrown;
For death the house has visited,
And caused the inmates to mourn
The loss of some dear loving friend,
That on earth no more shall roam.

Some people in delirium,
Have wandered from their home;
Have wandered to a vacant house,
And there have died alone,
With no kind friend to care for them,
Or close their dying eyes.
Oh God! in horrid misery
Hundreds of people died.

There were many whole families
Taken down sick in a day;
With no one to care for them,
In death they passed away.
Their spirits arose to God above,
Where sickness is no more;
Where peace and comfort ever reign,
On Heaven's blissful shore.

There is many a southern city
To-day is filled with woe,
And many of the inhabitants
Have wandered to and fro
To nurse the sick and dying --
The dead for the grave prepare.
They tried to do their duty,
With hearts filled with despair.

The Howard Association
Have been doing all they can,
To keep the "plague" from raging
Throughout the southern land;
They nursed the sick, they fed the poor,
They work both night and day,
This brave band in the southern scourge
Heroic courage display.

This noble band of charity
Have went from house to house,
To ease the sad misery of
The sufferers at the south;
Sad scenes of death and suffering
Each day they must endure,
As in the daily rounds they went
Among the afflicted poor.

The noble northern people
Have helped them all they can,
In money, food and clothing
Which they had at their command;
There is many a southern person
That will bless this Howard band,
For their noble deeds of charity
To the sufferers of their land.

Air -- "Minnie Lee"


Oh! come listen to my story
Of a little infant child --
His spirit is in glory --
It has left us for a while.
Death has robbed us of our Henry,
He is with our Savior now,
Where there is no pain or sorrow
Comes to cloud his little brow.

CHORUS:

God has took their little treasure,
And his name I'll tell you now,
He has gone from earth forever,
Their little Charles Henry House.

His cheeks were red as roses,
And his eyes were black as coals,
His little lips were red as rubies,
And his little hair it curled.
Oh, they called him little Charley,
He was full of joyful mirth --
Now his little form is lying
'Neath the cold and silent earth.

It was the eleventh of December,
On a cold and windy day,
Just at the close of evening,
When the sunlight fades away;
Little Henry he was dying,
In his little crib he lay,
With soft winds round him sighing
From the morn till close of day.

Parents, brothers, sisters weeping,
For their cup of sorrow's full,
And his little playthings keeping,
That he thought so beautiful --
Tears from parents' eyes were starting
For their little loving one.
Oh! how painful was the parting
From their little infant son.

Oh! how often have they kissed him,
And caressed his little brow --
To his little voice have listened,
But his place is vacant now.
They called him little Charley,
And his loving name they called,
But they could not keep their darling
From the loving Savior's call.

But they must now cease their mourning,
His little soul is at rest,
Where there can no storms of trouble
Roll across his peaceful breast.
Now his little form is sleeping
In the cold and silent tomb,
And his friends are left a weeping,
In his dear and loving home.

It was the eleventh of December,
Eighteen seventy was the year,
Kind friends will all remember --
Silently let fall a tear.
But we must not trouble borrow,
For the God of heaven is just;
No one knows a parent's sorrow,
Till a child some friend have lost.

Air -- "In the Cottage by the Sea"


Come listen to a painful story
A mother is going to tell,
For her heart is over-flowing
For that one she loved so well.
It's of a little infant daughter,
Mild and lovely, bright and fair --
She has left this world forever,
Left this world of grief and care.

Chorus --

Alone, all alone
In the grave yard she is sleeping,
That little one we loved so well --
God her little soul is keeping,
For he doeth all things well.

Oh! how sadly we'll remember,
On a bright and pleasant day --
It was the very last of summer
That her spirit fled away;
Fled away from earth forever,
Gone to dwell with Him above,
Where little angels dwell together
In His everlasting love.

Oh! we miss our little Minnie,
With blue eyes and flaxen hair --
Oh, we loved our little Minnie,
And we miss her every where;
Yes, we miss her at the table
Every morning, noon and night,
While she sat with us together,
For she was our heart's delight.

On the twenty-fifth of August,
Eighteen hundred and seventy-three,
God he called her then to leave us,
And a parting had to be.
As the day it was declining,
The sun was down behind the trees,
Little Minnie she was dying,
Her little soul it had to leave.

Left this world of earthly trouble
And her friends that loved her dear,
Father, mother, sister, brother,
Her place with them is vacant here.
Her little soul is at rest forever
In our Father's heavenly home,
Her little form is sweetly sleeping
In the cold and silent tomb.

Oh! she was our eldest daughter,
She was handsome to behold --
Every one that knew her loved her,
And her age was four years old.
And we miss her merry laughter,
Through the house she used to roam --
That little one, we'll not forget her
In our dear and loving home.

Oh! how oft-times we have kissed her
And caressed her little form --
God of heaven knows we loved her
From the day that she was born.
On a day of independence,
Eighteen hundred and sixty-nine,
God he gave to us a present
Of that little girl so fine.

Air -- "The Fierce Discharge"


In the late rebellion war,
Grand Rapids did send out
As brave and noble volunteers
As ever went down south:
Among them were the brave Page boys --
Five brothers there were in all;
They enlisted and went down south,
To obey their country's call.

John S. Page was the eldest son --
He went down south afar,
And enlisted in the Mechanics,
And served his time in the war.
Fernando Page the second son;
Served in the Infantry;
He was wounded, lost both his feet
On duty at Yorktown siege.

Charles F. Page was a noble son --
In sixty-four did enlist,
And in the same year he was killed
In the fight of the Wilderness.
This brave boy was carrying the flag,
To cheer his comrades on.
He fought in the Eight Infantry;
Now he, brave boy, is gone.

'Tis said of this brave soldier boy --
'Twas just before he died --
Stood the flag standard in the ground,
Laid down by it and died.
The friends that loved this noble boy,
How sad were they to hear
Of his death on a battle field;
His age was twenty years.

James B. Page was a fine young man --
He went in the artillery;
He served his time with all the rest,
To keep his country free.
Enos Page the youngest brother --
Made five sons in one family,
Went from Grand Rapids, here.
His age was fourteen years --

When Enos Page went from his home,
He was only a boy, you know;
He stole away from his mother dear,
For he was bound to go.
She followed him to the barracks twice,
And took him home again;
She found it was no use -- at last
With friends let him remain.

In Eight Michigan Cavalry
This boy he did enlist;
His life was almost despaired of,
On account of numerous fits,
Caused by drinking water poisoned --
Effects cannot outgrow;
In northern Alabama, I hear,
There came this dreadful blow.

How joyful were the parents of
Those noble soldier boys,
There was one missing of the five,
When they returned from war.
The one that carried the Union flag
Lies in a Southern grave,
The other brothers came back home
To Grand Rapids, their native place.

AIR -- "The Drunkard"


Come listen, friends, and hear a song,
It is a doleful one,
About a young man, dead and gone --
He died far away from home.
John Robinson this young man's name,
His age I cannot tell,
And he was loved by all his friends,
And he was known full well.

His father and mother being dead,
It left him an orphan boy,
When he was with his brother
His health failed him, poor boy.
Kind friends they thought 'twould do him good
To travel for his health;
To California he did go
With his Uncle Zera French.

He was not gone but a short time
When a letter his friends received;
It told how homesick Johnny was,
How he for home did grieve.
It said that he was getting worse,
And his money was nearly gone,
And if he did not soon return
Never more would he see home.

It said, "Dear Brother, will you please
Some money to me send,
For I fear I have not got enough
To bring me back again.
The doctor says I must soon return,
If I wish my home to see,
For if I stay my life is short,
For the air disagrees with me."

His brother Will the letter read,
It made his eyes grow dim.
"Dear brother, he shall soon return,
For I will go and fetch him."
This brother dear was very kind;
With money, he went with haste
For to bring him home again,
But Oh! he went too late.

For he was sick, and very bad --
Poor boy, he thought, no doubt,
If he came home in a smoking car
His money would hold out.
He started to come back alone --
He came one-third the way --
One evening in the car alone
His spirit fled away.

No friend was near to speak to him,
Or hear his dying moan;
How sad, how sad it must have been
To die there all alone;
No loving friends to soothe his brow,
Or ease his weary form;
Poor soul, poor soul is now at rest,
For his soul to heaven has gone.

Telegraph dispatch was sent his friends --
How sad were they to hear --
How their loved one died all alone,
In a car with no one near.
The brother brought his body home
To his friends that loved him best.
He's sleeping in their grave yard now
Let peace be e'er his rest.

Air -- "Saphrona's Farewell"


Come all ye young people of every degree,
Come give your attention one moment to me;
It's of a young couple I now will relate,
And of their misfortunes and of their sad fate.

One was a young damsel, both blooming and fair,
The other a young man, his beauty was rare;
He loved this lady as he loved his own life --
If God had not called her he would made her his wife.

He courted her a long time in triumph and glee,
But little did he think that she would soon leave,
Leave him in sorrow, forsaken, alone,
To mourn her departure, for she was going home:

Going home to her Father, that dwelleth on high,
Who gave her her life and who caused her to die,
And leave her true lover, one whom she could trust,
To moulder her fair form a while in the dust.

Lois House and Joy Morris were their names, I believe,
They loved each other dearly and never deceived,
But God he did part them, one which he laid low,
The other He left with his heart full of woe.

Joy laid her dying head on his bosom once more,
Pressed her to his heart as he had oft done before,
Saying, "Dear Lois, are you going to leave me?"
"Yes, Joy, I can no longer stay here with thee! "

"Oh! Joy, can't you give me up, dearest," said she;
"If you will say yes, love, I can leave in peace;
In heaven, love, I will be waiting for thee --
Be true to our Savior -- you'll soon follow me."

"If I must say yes, love, for you to leave me --
God will do better by you, Lois, than me;
Oh! it's hard for me, dearest, hard to say yes,
It leaves me alone, love, in sad woefulness."

"I want your picture, Joy, placed in my cold hand,
And let it be buried with me in the ground;
It's all I can carry with me to the grave --
Grant it to me, love, it's all that I crave."

They called for her father and mother most dear,
She kissed them and bade them farewell thro' their tears;
They called for her brother and sisters again,
To kiss their sister while life still remain.

"One kiss from you, Joy," she whispered so low,
That no one in the room heard her, you know;
She gasped for her breath once or twice more,
When lo! her spirit left her, and Lois is no more.

They placed her fair form in the coffin so cold,
And placed there Joy's picture as they had been told;
They bore her to her grave, all were in sad gloom,
And gently laid her down to rest in her tomb.

Come all kind friends, both far and near,
Come listen to me and you shall hear --
It's of a family and their fate,
All about them I will relate.

They once did live at Edgerton,
They once did live at Muskegon,
From there they went to Chicago,
Which proved their fatal overthrow.

It was William House's family,
As fine a family as you see --
His family was eleven in all,
I do not think it was very small.

Two children died some years ago,
Before they went to Chicago,
Five children there he had with him,
When death his home there enters in.

The small-pox then was raging there,
And Oh! it would not their house spare,
For all but one was sick of them,
A dreadful house it must have been.

The eldest girl was married then,
The eldest boy was in Michigan,
The second boy he was at home,
And took care of them all alone.

His father and his mother dear,
And dear sister, too, I hear,
Were very sick and in his care,
And no kind friends to help him there:

Two little brothers, and a baby too,
Made six in all -- what could he do,
He had to take care of them all,
The baby, too, was very small.

As he would go to his father's bed,
And try to soothe his aching head,
"My son, I pray you leave me, do
Go take care of poor mother, too."

"Your mother and sister need your care,
And your little infant brother there;
Oh! Charlie, Charlie, take care of them,
My son, do all for them you can."

It seemed as though he did not know
That his poor soul so soon must go,
And leave his little ones he loved,
To go to that bright world above.

But God he called his soul away,
It had to leave, it could not stay --
He never more on earth will be,
His soul is from sin and sorrow free.

Charles helped the sexton, I am told,
To lay his form in the coffin cold --
How sad, how sad, poor soul was he,
When last his father's form did see.

Minnie May House she had to go,
And leave her friends that loved her so --
She was a girl in her teens,
A lovely flower as e'er was seen.

Minnie and her mother lay on one bed,
And when Charles said, "our Minnie is dead,"
His mother then she did grow wild,
And early after knew her child.

They buried Minnie by her father's side,
And left them there where they had died --
Charles took his mother and brothers then
And brought them back to Michigan.

For the mother and the baby too,
Kind friends did all that they could do,
But those poor souls they could not save,
For now they're sleeping in their grave.

Oh! what a noble son was he,
His age was then only sixteen --
Charles House's name I have told before
God bless his soul forever more.