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Title: Lines To The Memory of Mrs. Tharp
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How slowly moves the passing hour,
That creeps from Time's expansive womb;
Each moment seems to be an hour,
Since mother dear is in the tomb.

With steaming eyes and bleeding heart,
Our vitals feel the sorrowing smart;
Our sorrows and afflictions O how great,-
But we must bear our galling fate.

At times her chamber we explore,
And glance suspicious at her bed;
But mother dear is now not there-
I do not dream-no-mother's dead!

Since she has gone to lead the way,
And lure her offspring to the sky
May we with patience crowd along
Until we meet her there on high.

Dear father, you must feel the saddening truth
You've lost the partner of your youth,-
Your wife-your love-your help-mate true,
Who always watched and cared for you.

Children, let us raise our voice to God,
For guidance on our erring way;
That we may join our mother dear,
In realms of endless day.

She knows no sin, no pain, no fear,
But like an angel fair,
Her robe is white; her crown is bright,
She bids us meet her there.


[Page 24 of scrapbook.]

Date: 2/4/1869
Origin: Warren Republican
Author: W. Edwin Evans
Record ID: 00002080
Type: Periodical
Source Archive: Warren County Historical Society
Date Entered: 8/10/2001
Collection: Clippings scrapbooks
Entered By: Leslie J. Rice

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