THE PORTLAND TRANSCRIPT, August 8,1883

                                                            DEATHS
                                                           (continued)


          Deering, June 20th, Jason Carleton Libby, eldest son of Francis and Addie
     Carleton Libby, aged 6 years, 5 months and 20 days.
          "Tis seldom we chronicle the death of one so young who possessed a mind
     so far advanced beyond his years. He was unwilling to do or say anything which
     would displease God, and was never more happy than when talking about Him,
     and of His goodness, making such inquiries as was beyond the knowledge of man
     to answer. A dear lover of all things beautiful, with rare qualities of discrimination
     united with a kind and loving disposition, and being devotedly attached to his
     parents, he was to them more a companion than a child. Patiently bearing his
     sickness of four weeks, and all remedies used without a murmur, he quietly passed
     over the river. Bereaved parent's weep not that your darling has gone from you.
     God's angels have borne this treasured flower, to that happy bower where
     transplanted it shall bloom and thrive forever. Safe now in the arms of Jesus,
     all mysteries cleared away, you saw him in his narrow home, surrounded by
     flowers he loved so well and oh! how beautiful it was to view that sweet one
     in his rest, you miss him in your home, but you could not recall him.
                                                Lift death's dark veil and see
                                               Your hearts are nearer Heaven's throne,
                                                That angle waits for thee.




                                                  TO MY MOTHER
                                    Dear  mother we miss thee, our life cannot tell,
                                    The sad, sad thoughts that in our hearts swell,
                                    Our home once so happy, is lonely at best,
                                    Since thou, dearest mother, hast gone to thy rest.


                                   Say, mother, dear mother, why didst thou go,
                                   And leave thine own loved one to mourn below.
                                   Alas! the fondest ties of earth have been riven,
                                   And the soul of our loved one wafted to Heaven.


                                   As we list her voice, our eyes are dim,
                                   And we  cannot understand, the ways of Him.
                                   Who laid his hand so heavily on us
                                   To lead us, to Heaven, we hope and trust.
 
                                   The way is oft dark, yet we try to look up,
                                   And be lead by the Savior, who gave the sad cup.
                                   He has promised to save , when earthly friends fall
                                   And guide us always, though trials assail.


                                   May this thought cheer our hearts, as we pass on
                                   For we know the journey, at best is not long.
                                   Ere we meet our loved mother, to part no more,
                                   With Savior, and kindred, who have passed just  before.
                                                                                                E.R. Martin.
                                   MONMOUTH, June 16th, 1882.