Only Gone Before
Icie May Akers was born February 5, 1901 and died April 4, 1902, after about three weeks of sickness. The little one was very patient through her sufferings, taking sick with measles and then pneumonia, which resulted in her death. The funeral services were held at the Methodist church in Gravity Saturday at 3 o’clock, the text used being chosen from James 4:14. “Whereas, ye know not what shall be bon the morrow, for what is your life? It is even a vapor that appeareth for a little time and then vanisheth away.” Those present were reminded of the uncertainty of life and the certainty of death. They were urged to get ready, that they might be prepared with their lamps trimmed and burning when the bridegroom comes.
After the services the little form was laid to rest in the Gravity cemetery to await the glorious resurrection morn, when she shall be transferred to the better world beyond, where sickness and death shall be no more.
We miss thee, little Icie,
A voice we loved is still.
A place is vacant in the home
No other one can fill. E. J. S.
Only Gone Before
Icie May Akers was born February 5, 1901 and died April 4, 1902, after about three weeks of sickness. The little one was very patient through her sufferings, taking sick with measles and then pneumonia, which resulted in her death. The funeral services were held at the Methodist church in Gravity Saturday at 3 o’clock, the text used being chosen from James 4:14. “Whereas, ye know not what shall be bon the morrow, for what is your life? It is even a vapor that appeareth for a little time and then vanisheth away.” Those present were reminded of the uncertainty of life and the certainty of death. They were urged to get ready, that they might be prepared with their lamps trimmed and burning when the bridegroom comes.
After the services the little form was laid to rest in the Gravity cemetery to await the glorious resurrection morn, when she shall be transferred to the better world beyond, where sickness and death shall be no more.
We miss thee, little Icie,
A voice we loved is still.
A place is vacant in the home
No other one can fill. E. J. S.
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