The Renovo Record, Thur., Aug. 10, 1882.
Obituary.
Holahan. Died in this place, on the 2d inst., Eliza A., wife of Wm. C. Holahan, Esq., aged 32 years, 11 months and 1 day.
Mrs. Holahan was a lady identified with out town for over eleven years, here establishing her household and assuming and maintaining a position of respectability and worth from the beginning to the end. As a wife and mother she had no superior, and she was beloved by the entire circle of our acquaintance. For over four years she was an invalid, her health having been broken down by a severe fever. Since then she was visited with severe menacing attacks and her lungs in particular were noticeably weak. Every advantage which human skill could devise, the best in the land, was given her. She was under treatment of the best physicians in Buffalo and in the eastern cities, where she made many warm friends. During the past winter she spent the season in Florida, and by exceeding great care her life was prolonged for many months. But gradually and surely the destroyer gained upon her health until human efforts failed and the God of the righteous claimed her as His own. Her last words were, "I am going home, let me rest!" She was a devout christian woman of very marked attainments and peculiar merit. During her prolonged sickness she did not fear death. Her only concern was for her devoted husband and little children. Her domestic relations were of the highest and purest order, and her promise of life was above the average, and it seemed severe to see her fade away and die in the prime of her life and earthly promise, but the christian resignation of her dying words is a great comfort to all who knew her. Her body rests on the top of the promontory of Highland Cemetery in Lock Haven, overlooking all the beauties of the world and in suggestive proximity to the realms of her God.
The Renovo Record, Thur., Aug. 17, 1882.
In Memorium.
Mrs. W. C. Holahan died Aug. 2d, 1882.
The body, at her request, was buried on the summit of Highland Cemetery in the city of Lock haven, overlooking the confluence of the Susquehanna River and Bald Eagle Creek, and commanding an extended view of those beautiful valleys. These lines were written by her husband and published by request of friends:
On yonder promontory height
Appears a new celestial light
To the aspiring christian sight
On gleaming all the stars of night
Echanting and supreme;
Rich radiant halo's far around
Encircle consecrated ground
A lowly, unassuming mound
Where one pure gem from earth is found
Of price beyond esteem.
Our home so lately full of cheer
Has lost that light which she brought here
And
Yes, every dew drop is a tear.
And hope seems banished ever;
We hear her voice in every room,
Her very portrait speaks with gloom
Her ? still us ?
What pathos vacant roles assume
Once here, but never! never!!
The name so dear is precious sweet,
When infant lips her tones repeat,
They speak at meals of "mamma's seat"
And search the lawn to trace her feet.
Ere shadows close the door,
So may they call her all their days,
And never cease to speak her praise
And search her through her goodly ways,
They'll find her when our Saviour stays
And parting is no more.
Still the troubled dreams of night,
I hear her speak with vague delight
I wake that joy must suffer blight
For years of care I've one requite,
A sense of love and duty;
She's gone, she’s gone! at last 'tis done,
That noble, patient, saintly one,
Her suffering o'er, new life begun,
The mist that veils the noon day sun,
Reveals her youth and beauty.
We've placed upon that cloud crowned crest
A ? the last and best,
Her dying words, her own request,
"I am going home, please let me rest,"
Are doubly verified;
There tall proud pines arise,
And murmer anthems to the skies,
For noble dust in waiting lies
The truth is told beyond disguise,
Her soul was justified.
Yon "Highland Cemetery" head,
That rising city of the dead,
Which robes his feet in grandeur spread,
On such a mount our Saviour bled
For her immortal gain;
From balmy shades let ambient air
Waft gently o'er the saved ones there,
Whispering a soft, sweet, silent prayer
Here let the "dust to dust" repair,
Christ did not bleed in vain.
Her daughters each desponding hour,
I'll point aloft to natures' tower,
And tell of her o'er seeing power.
How once she loved them, she, the flower
Which angels have transplanted;
And when in turn these bulbs must fall,
In answer to the Master's call,
There'll be no gloom in such a pall,
Her grace sufficient for them all
Will leave the way undaunted.
Twas hard to part if sure to meet,
To me and mine that life was sweet,
Triumphant death t'was my defeat,
She sank to rest at Jesus feet.
Beloved and lamented;
And then I view landscape wide,
See winters meet to ne'er divide,
Transport my soul beyond the tide,
And to to sleep at Lidie's side.
Redeemed! Assured! Contented!
(Provided by Find A Grave contributor I Love Genealogy)
Obituary.
Holahan. Died in this place, on the 2d inst., Eliza A., wife of Wm. C. Holahan, Esq., aged 32 years, 11 months and 1 day.
Mrs. Holahan was a lady identified with out town for over eleven years, here establishing her household and assuming and maintaining a position of respectability and worth from the beginning to the end. As a wife and mother she had no superior, and she was beloved by the entire circle of our acquaintance. For over four years she was an invalid, her health having been broken down by a severe fever. Since then she was visited with severe menacing attacks and her lungs in particular were noticeably weak. Every advantage which human skill could devise, the best in the land, was given her. She was under treatment of the best physicians in Buffalo and in the eastern cities, where she made many warm friends. During the past winter she spent the season in Florida, and by exceeding great care her life was prolonged for many months. But gradually and surely the destroyer gained upon her health until human efforts failed and the God of the righteous claimed her as His own. Her last words were, "I am going home, let me rest!" She was a devout christian woman of very marked attainments and peculiar merit. During her prolonged sickness she did not fear death. Her only concern was for her devoted husband and little children. Her domestic relations were of the highest and purest order, and her promise of life was above the average, and it seemed severe to see her fade away and die in the prime of her life and earthly promise, but the christian resignation of her dying words is a great comfort to all who knew her. Her body rests on the top of the promontory of Highland Cemetery in Lock Haven, overlooking all the beauties of the world and in suggestive proximity to the realms of her God.
The Renovo Record, Thur., Aug. 17, 1882.
In Memorium.
Mrs. W. C. Holahan died Aug. 2d, 1882.
The body, at her request, was buried on the summit of Highland Cemetery in the city of Lock haven, overlooking the confluence of the Susquehanna River and Bald Eagle Creek, and commanding an extended view of those beautiful valleys. These lines were written by her husband and published by request of friends:
On yonder promontory height
Appears a new celestial light
To the aspiring christian sight
On gleaming all the stars of night
Echanting and supreme;
Rich radiant halo's far around
Encircle consecrated ground
A lowly, unassuming mound
Where one pure gem from earth is found
Of price beyond esteem.
Our home so lately full of cheer
Has lost that light which she brought here
And
Yes, every dew drop is a tear.
And hope seems banished ever;
We hear her voice in every room,
Her very portrait speaks with gloom
Her ? still us ?
What pathos vacant roles assume
Once here, but never! never!!
The name so dear is precious sweet,
When infant lips her tones repeat,
They speak at meals of "mamma's seat"
And search the lawn to trace her feet.
Ere shadows close the door,
So may they call her all their days,
And never cease to speak her praise
And search her through her goodly ways,
They'll find her when our Saviour stays
And parting is no more.
Still the troubled dreams of night,
I hear her speak with vague delight
I wake that joy must suffer blight
For years of care I've one requite,
A sense of love and duty;
She's gone, she’s gone! at last 'tis done,
That noble, patient, saintly one,
Her suffering o'er, new life begun,
The mist that veils the noon day sun,
Reveals her youth and beauty.
We've placed upon that cloud crowned crest
A ? the last and best,
Her dying words, her own request,
"I am going home, please let me rest,"
Are doubly verified;
There tall proud pines arise,
And murmer anthems to the skies,
For noble dust in waiting lies
The truth is told beyond disguise,
Her soul was justified.
Yon "Highland Cemetery" head,
That rising city of the dead,
Which robes his feet in grandeur spread,
On such a mount our Saviour bled
For her immortal gain;
From balmy shades let ambient air
Waft gently o'er the saved ones there,
Whispering a soft, sweet, silent prayer
Here let the "dust to dust" repair,
Christ did not bleed in vain.
Her daughters each desponding hour,
I'll point aloft to natures' tower,
And tell of her o'er seeing power.
How once she loved them, she, the flower
Which angels have transplanted;
And when in turn these bulbs must fall,
In answer to the Master's call,
There'll be no gloom in such a pall,
Her grace sufficient for them all
Will leave the way undaunted.
Twas hard to part if sure to meet,
To me and mine that life was sweet,
Triumphant death t'was my defeat,
She sank to rest at Jesus feet.
Beloved and lamented;
And then I view landscape wide,
See winters meet to ne'er divide,
Transport my soul beyond the tide,
And to to sleep at Lidie's side.
Redeemed! Assured! Contented!
(Provided by Find A Grave contributor I Love Genealogy)
The Renovo Record, Thur., Aug. 10, 1882.
Obituary.
Holahan. Died in this place, on the 2d inst., Eliza A., wife of Wm. C. Holahan, Esq., aged 32 years, 11 months and 1 day.
Mrs. Holahan was a lady identified with out town for over eleven years, here establishing her household and assuming and maintaining a position of respectability and worth from the beginning to the end. As a wife and mother she had no superior, and she was beloved by the entire circle of our acquaintance. For over four years she was an invalid, her health having been broken down by a severe fever. Since then she was visited with severe menacing attacks and her lungs in particular were noticeably weak. Every advantage which human skill could devise, the best in the land, was given her. She was under treatment of the best physicians in Buffalo and in the eastern cities, where she made many warm friends. During the past winter she spent the season in Florida, and by exceeding great care her life was prolonged for many months. But gradually and surely the destroyer gained upon her health until human efforts failed and the God of the righteous claimed her as His own. Her last words were, "I am going home, let me rest!" She was a devout christian woman of very marked attainments and peculiar merit. During her prolonged sickness she did not fear death. Her only concern was for her devoted husband and little children. Her domestic relations were of the highest and purest order, and her promise of life was above the average, and it seemed severe to see her fade away and die in the prime of her life and earthly promise, but the christian resignation of her dying words is a great comfort to all who knew her. Her body rests on the top of the promontory of Highland Cemetery in Lock Haven, overlooking all the beauties of the world and in suggestive proximity to the realms of her God.
The Renovo Record, Thur., Aug. 17, 1882.
In Memorium.
Mrs. W. C. Holahan died Aug. 2d, 1882.
The body, at her request, was buried on the summit of Highland Cemetery in the city of Lock haven, overlooking the confluence of the Susquehanna River and Bald Eagle Creek, and commanding an extended view of those beautiful valleys. These lines were written by her husband and published by request of friends:
On yonder promontory height
Appears a new celestial light
To the aspiring christian sight
On gleaming all the stars of night
Echanting and supreme;
Rich radiant halo's far around
Encircle consecrated ground
A lowly, unassuming mound
Where one pure gem from earth is found
Of price beyond esteem.
Our home so lately full of cheer
Has lost that light which she brought here
And
Yes, every dew drop is a tear.
And hope seems banished ever;
We hear her voice in every room,
Her very portrait speaks with gloom
Her ? still us ?
What pathos vacant roles assume
Once here, but never! never!!
The name so dear is precious sweet,
When infant lips her tones repeat,
They speak at meals of "mamma's seat"
And search the lawn to trace her feet.
Ere shadows close the door,
So may they call her all their days,
And never cease to speak her praise
And search her through her goodly ways,
They'll find her when our Saviour stays
And parting is no more.
Still the troubled dreams of night,
I hear her speak with vague delight
I wake that joy must suffer blight
For years of care I've one requite,
A sense of love and duty;
She's gone, she’s gone! at last 'tis done,
That noble, patient, saintly one,
Her suffering o'er, new life begun,
The mist that veils the noon day sun,
Reveals her youth and beauty.
We've placed upon that cloud crowned crest
A ? the last and best,
Her dying words, her own request,
"I am going home, please let me rest,"
Are doubly verified;
There tall proud pines arise,
And murmer anthems to the skies,
For noble dust in waiting lies
The truth is told beyond disguise,
Her soul was justified.
Yon "Highland Cemetery" head,
That rising city of the dead,
Which robes his feet in grandeur spread,
On such a mount our Saviour bled
For her immortal gain;
From balmy shades let ambient air
Waft gently o'er the saved ones there,
Whispering a soft, sweet, silent prayer
Here let the "dust to dust" repair,
Christ did not bleed in vain.
Her daughters each desponding hour,
I'll point aloft to natures' tower,
And tell of her o'er seeing power.
How once she loved them, she, the flower
Which angels have transplanted;
And when in turn these bulbs must fall,
In answer to the Master's call,
There'll be no gloom in such a pall,
Her grace sufficient for them all
Will leave the way undaunted.
Twas hard to part if sure to meet,
To me and mine that life was sweet,
Triumphant death t'was my defeat,
She sank to rest at Jesus feet.
Beloved and lamented;
And then I view landscape wide,
See winters meet to ne'er divide,
Transport my soul beyond the tide,
And to to sleep at Lidie's side.
Redeemed! Assured! Contented!
(Provided by Find A Grave contributor I Love Genealogy)
Obituary.
Holahan. Died in this place, on the 2d inst., Eliza A., wife of Wm. C. Holahan, Esq., aged 32 years, 11 months and 1 day.
Mrs. Holahan was a lady identified with out town for over eleven years, here establishing her household and assuming and maintaining a position of respectability and worth from the beginning to the end. As a wife and mother she had no superior, and she was beloved by the entire circle of our acquaintance. For over four years she was an invalid, her health having been broken down by a severe fever. Since then she was visited with severe menacing attacks and her lungs in particular were noticeably weak. Every advantage which human skill could devise, the best in the land, was given her. She was under treatment of the best physicians in Buffalo and in the eastern cities, where she made many warm friends. During the past winter she spent the season in Florida, and by exceeding great care her life was prolonged for many months. But gradually and surely the destroyer gained upon her health until human efforts failed and the God of the righteous claimed her as His own. Her last words were, "I am going home, let me rest!" She was a devout christian woman of very marked attainments and peculiar merit. During her prolonged sickness she did not fear death. Her only concern was for her devoted husband and little children. Her domestic relations were of the highest and purest order, and her promise of life was above the average, and it seemed severe to see her fade away and die in the prime of her life and earthly promise, but the christian resignation of her dying words is a great comfort to all who knew her. Her body rests on the top of the promontory of Highland Cemetery in Lock Haven, overlooking all the beauties of the world and in suggestive proximity to the realms of her God.
The Renovo Record, Thur., Aug. 17, 1882.
In Memorium.
Mrs. W. C. Holahan died Aug. 2d, 1882.
The body, at her request, was buried on the summit of Highland Cemetery in the city of Lock haven, overlooking the confluence of the Susquehanna River and Bald Eagle Creek, and commanding an extended view of those beautiful valleys. These lines were written by her husband and published by request of friends:
On yonder promontory height
Appears a new celestial light
To the aspiring christian sight
On gleaming all the stars of night
Echanting and supreme;
Rich radiant halo's far around
Encircle consecrated ground
A lowly, unassuming mound
Where one pure gem from earth is found
Of price beyond esteem.
Our home so lately full of cheer
Has lost that light which she brought here
And
Yes, every dew drop is a tear.
And hope seems banished ever;
We hear her voice in every room,
Her very portrait speaks with gloom
Her ? still us ?
What pathos vacant roles assume
Once here, but never! never!!
The name so dear is precious sweet,
When infant lips her tones repeat,
They speak at meals of "mamma's seat"
And search the lawn to trace her feet.
Ere shadows close the door,
So may they call her all their days,
And never cease to speak her praise
And search her through her goodly ways,
They'll find her when our Saviour stays
And parting is no more.
Still the troubled dreams of night,
I hear her speak with vague delight
I wake that joy must suffer blight
For years of care I've one requite,
A sense of love and duty;
She's gone, she’s gone! at last 'tis done,
That noble, patient, saintly one,
Her suffering o'er, new life begun,
The mist that veils the noon day sun,
Reveals her youth and beauty.
We've placed upon that cloud crowned crest
A ? the last and best,
Her dying words, her own request,
"I am going home, please let me rest,"
Are doubly verified;
There tall proud pines arise,
And murmer anthems to the skies,
For noble dust in waiting lies
The truth is told beyond disguise,
Her soul was justified.
Yon "Highland Cemetery" head,
That rising city of the dead,
Which robes his feet in grandeur spread,
On such a mount our Saviour bled
For her immortal gain;
From balmy shades let ambient air
Waft gently o'er the saved ones there,
Whispering a soft, sweet, silent prayer
Here let the "dust to dust" repair,
Christ did not bleed in vain.
Her daughters each desponding hour,
I'll point aloft to natures' tower,
And tell of her o'er seeing power.
How once she loved them, she, the flower
Which angels have transplanted;
And when in turn these bulbs must fall,
In answer to the Master's call,
There'll be no gloom in such a pall,
Her grace sufficient for them all
Will leave the way undaunted.
Twas hard to part if sure to meet,
To me and mine that life was sweet,
Triumphant death t'was my defeat,
She sank to rest at Jesus feet.
Beloved and lamented;
And then I view landscape wide,
See winters meet to ne'er divide,
Transport my soul beyond the tide,
And to to sleep at Lidie's side.
Redeemed! Assured! Contented!
(Provided by Find A Grave contributor I Love Genealogy)
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