submitted by Neal Carter, Aug. 25, 2007


EDITORS JOURNAL: The Old Settlers desire the following to be recorded in your paper as a testimony to the worth of our departed friend, Mrs. E. R. Bennett, who died Saturday, August 10th, 1872.

P. JACKSON, Sec’y.

    Resolved, That in the death of Mrs. Joseph Bennett the old settlers’ society loses a cherished member, and that as “friend after friend departs” we are made to realize that soon the last one will pass away and our organization will cease to exist.

    That in all the relations of life – as wife, mother, Christian, and friend – her example and devotion are worthy of imitation and should be treasured up in our hearts.

    That we tender to the bereaved circle thus broken by the hand of death our sympathies, reminding them that “God gave – he took – and will restore.” “He doeth all things well.”



    DIED: In this city, at 4 p. m., Saturday, Aug. 10, 1872, Mrs. E. R. BENNETT, consort of Joseph Bennett, aged 47 years, 9 months and 17 days.

    Deceased was the daughter of Col. William Rogers Schenck (one of the Western Poets) the oldest son of General Wm. C. Schenck and brother of Minister R. C. Schenck and Admiral James F. Schenck. She was also the step-daughter of John N. C. Schenck, Esq., of Franklin, Ohio, and only sister of James Finley and R. C. Schenck, jr.

    Mrs. BENNETT, a follower of Christ since her 17th year, and since 1851, a member of the Congregational Church of Muscatine, died with a calm and peaceful trust in her Savior, and leaves in great affliction her husband and three children and her aged mother, with many other friends, to whom she has been, in all these years, a beautiful and noble example in all the various relations of life.

    Weep not for her, for she hath crossed the river,
    We almost saw Him meet her on the shore,
    And lead her through the golden gates,
    where never
    Sorrow or death can enter any more.

    Weep not for her, that she has reached before us
    The safe, warm shelter of her long-loved home;
    Weep not for her, she may be bending o’er us
    In quiet wonder when we too shall come.

    Weep not for her; think how she may be kneeling
    Gazing her fill upon the Master’s face;
    A loving, humble smile, but half revealing
    The perfect peace she feels in Mary’s place.

    But weep for those round whom the fight is thronging,
    Who still must buckle heavy armor on,
    Who dare not pray for rest, though sore their longing,
    Till all the weary working day be done.

    And pray for them, that they, though sad and lonely,
    May still with patience bear the cross He sends,
    And learn that tears and wounds, and losses only,
    Make peace the sweeter When the warfare ends.

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