HARRY BURKHOLDER

Newspaper Unknown

DIED.
At Walnut Ridge, Aug. 26, 1881, of congestion of the stomach, little Harry, infant son of John H. and Minnie Burkholder; aged 10 months and 18 days.

The funeral services were held at the grave; Rev. F. M. Baldwin, of the Presbyterian church, officiating. It seemed so sad to all our hearts as we stood at the little grave at the close of summer, that we must cast so sweet a flower into the cheerless grave.

Our little Harry rests beneath the sod;
We know his spirit is with God;
Then why should we thus sadly weep?
He giveth His beloved sleep.
Gone from his dreadful bed of pain,
We feel our loss is but his gain,
He dwells in glory while we weep,
He giveth His beloved sleep.

Then weep not dear father and mother for him!
Oh, ask him not to return again
Where tears of sadness and anguish show,
And the heart is saddened by tales of woes.
But, oh, be prepared for that happy clime,
Whenever you are called from the shore of time;
For earth has too much of sorrow and pain,
Oh, bid him not back to the shores again.

Transcribed By: Brenda (Hamilton) Johnson


BURKHOLDER, HARRY

Newspaper Unknown Obituary.
Died, at Walnut Ridge, little Harry Burkholder, infant son of John R. and Minnie Burkholder, of congestion of the stomach, Aug. 26, 1881. Aged ten months and eighteen days. The funeral services were held at the grave at Rose Hill cemetery, Rev. F. M. Baldwin of the Presbyterian church officiating. It seemed most sad to all our hearts as we stood at the little grave at the close of summer, that we must cast so sweet a flower into the cheerless grave.

Our little Harry rests beneath the sod;
We know his spirit is with God;
Then why should we thus sadly weep?
He giveth His beloved sleep.
Gone from his dreadful bed of pain,
We feel our loss is but his gain,
He dwells in glory while we weep,
He giveth His beloved sleep.
Then weep not dear father and mother for him!
Oh, ask him not to return again
Where tears of sadness and anguish flow,
And the heart is saddened by tales of woe.
But, oh, be prepared for that happy clime,
Whenever you are called from the shore of time;
For earth has too much of sorrow and pain,
Oh, bid him not back to its shores again.

Transcribed By: Brenda (Hamilton) Johnson

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