COMBS, Mrs. Mary

COMBS

Posted By: Joey Stark
Date: 3/25/2007 at 10:06:12

"Fairfield Ledger Weekly", January 7, 1869

Im Memorium. [sic]

Mrs. Mary, consort of S. S. COMBS, residing near Colesburg, Iowa, departed this life on Saturday morning, December 19th, 1868, at 8½ o’clock, aged 46 years and 8 months.

She was born in Orange Co., Ind., and became a member of the Christian Church in 1842. With her husband she moved to Illinois in 1852, and thence to Iowa in 1855, where she passed the remainder of her days, suffering for six years with that dread disease, Consumption. Her conduct and actions were characteristic of the true christian.--- She set a good example before her family, always adhering to the principles of morality, kindness and justice. She bore her severe sickness with meekness and christian fortitude, seeming to be perfectly satisfied with the decree of her Divine Master. About a week before her death, while asleep, she sang a part of the following beautiful hymn:

“Oh, sing to me of Heaven,
When I am called to die;
Sing songs of holy ecstacy
To bear my soul on high.”

A short time before her death she called her weeping family to her bedside and informed them that her parting hour was nigh. She embraced each one, gave them a few words of advice, and then said: “We are all united here, and I want you to so live that at last we may be re-united in Heaven, where there will be no more parting, or sickness, sorrow or dying.” These were her parting words, and bidding adieu to the troubles of this world she passed quietly away, and sought the eternal joys of the christian’s home on high. She is mourned by a loving companion and weeping children. Thus another home is made desolate, and the orphan children weep o’er the sacred tomb of an angel mother.--- All gaze sadly upon the vacant chair. They hear no longer the feeble voice or tottering step. Ah! well may the poet say: “Home is sad without a mother.”

“Oh! mother dear, we’ll miss you,
Yes, we’ll sadly, sadly miss you;
No more on earth we’ll greet you,
Yet we’ll meet you at the throne of God.

There where angel bands are singing
Their joyful, joyful tribute bringing,
Where bright angel harps are ringing,
We’ll meet you near the throne of God.

Your last words were, come and meet me;
Dear children, will you come and meet me,
Will you and papa come to greet me
At the judgment throne of God?

Yes, dear mother, we will meet you,
As they own loved children we will greet you,
And we’ll bring dear papa to meet you,
When we’ll gather ‘round the throne of God.

A. J. COMBS.

*Transcribed for genealogy purposes; I have no relation to the person(s) mentioned.