Notes |
- Okolona Messenger: In Memory of Mrs. Myrtle Eunice Herndon who
died at her home, Sunday, May 24, 1931 at 7:20. It was a long,
sad seige for one to have to bear. But she bore her sufferings
calmly, always grateful for the many nice flowers and trays
carried in; often remarked there were more pretty flowers and
nice eats than ever before. For the last six months she was
confined to her bed. She leaves a husband and a seven year old
son, a mother, two sisters and two brothers. Her father, two
sisters, a brother and an infant of hers have gone on before.
She united with the Methodist Church while a girl. She was
married to Mr. Grover Herndon, the last Sunday in October 1922.
Myrtle was the eldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. W E Dallas.
Funeral services were held May 25, at 4 o'clock at Pleasant
Grove Cemetery, her pastor, Rev A Y Brown, assisted by Rev T E
Gregory, conducted the services. Words cannot express our
thanks to the many kind and willing ones that helped to the
very last. May God help the ones that help others. Yes, we
know the Savior called her - From this world of sin and pain -
Where there is rest and peace eternal - And no sorrow ever
come. - How we miss you dearest loved one - Yet would not that
you should be - In the awful stage of suffering - Death
relieved the sting from thee. - Never can we forget our parting
- The sweet farewell you whispered low - How it makes our sad
hearts quiver - Yet it gives angelic love - Father, give us
strength to conquer - Every thought that comes our way; - Help
us live as she has bidden, - As she lived, Oh, that we may -
And Oh, Gracious Heavenly Father, - Guide her child that he may
grow - Into manhood, noble, patient, - Love and fear his Lord
and savior, - As mother taught him from the cradle - And a
husband so devoted, - Help him, Lord, his grief to bear. -
'Twas so great seems he could not; - Just remember, 'twas her
prayer. - As the grave was hid with flowers - Seems the small
white hand would reach - Just to thank each one, so kindly, -
In a whisper, Oh, how sweet.- She was waiting, waiting, waiting
- For her soul to make its flight; - But it seemed so hard to
bear it, - Yet we must understand the right. Auntie.
|