Zink, James D. 1831-1898

ZINK, MURPHY

Posted By: Volunteer Transcriber
Date: 5/15/2005 at 19:19:44

The Newton Record Thursday, December 29, 1898

Zink, James D.

We are called this week to give the death of one of our neighbors, James D. Zink, whose sickness we recorded in these columns last week.

Mr. Zink was sixty-seven years, eight months and seven days old at the time of his death, and he and Clarissa Murphy had been married forty-one years excepting one day, had he lived until the twenty-second that would have been their forty- first anniversary; but death claimed him on the evening of December twenty-first.

Words are inadequate to express our sorrow or to extend our sympathies in the loss of one of our neighbors who has always held the entire respect of the neighborhood.

His children were all at his bedside when the final summons came and they with their aged mother are left to mourn the loss of husband and father.

The funeral services were held at Hixson Grove Chapel on Friday conducted by Rev. Kirkwood of Murphy, assisted by Rev. W. A. Rouze and Rev. Jas. H. Scull of Sully. The text was, “To die is to gain,” plainly portraying the many virtues of the deceased, he having been a member of the church since he was sixteen years old.

His character was above reproach and to know him was to add one more friend to those already acquired. “To know life” was spoken by the minister, “we know that brother Zink is in the light of that glorious home,” and as the words were uttered, the sun which had _____ been overcast with clouds broke the darkness and at once the house was illuminated with the golden light of that orb, so as to show that his light was eternal.

To find another man like J. D. Zink would be hard to do, and his vacant seat at home and at the church will be gazed at with a tinge of sadness. Being a consistent Christian he has built a memory in the heart of those who knew him that can be erased only with death itself; as he lived so he died, in the triumph of a savior’s love.

There is a reaper whose name is Death,
And with his sickle keen
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.

Originally submitted on Sun Sep 22 14:55:05 2002