Margaret A. Milam

The Cartersville Express
Cartersville, Georgia
July 24, 1868, Page 3
Transcribed by:  

“Death Loves a Shining Mark.”

Margaret A. Milam departed this life on the 16th inst., at the residence of her parents in the sixteenth year of her age.  The death of this young girl has produced a great sensation in this community.  In the very prime and glory of her girlhood, with rare personal attractions, with a genial, cheerful, spirit, shedding light and gladness wherever she went.  She was a universal favorite.  A more afflicting dispensation of Providence, it has never been out lot to witness—young, beautiful, and endowed with all that makes life desirable and attractive, she has suddenly removed to another and better world, where “the light never fades and the flowers bloom forever.”  Prayers deep and fervent went up that she might be spared; but the Destroyer had been commissioned to his work, and her pure spirit took its flight forever from this earth.  Human reason, finite and limited, will ask the question – “Why was one so young and so promising taken away!”  Revelation assures “that God doeth all things well.”  The angels knew their sister even on earth, and she has gone to join their company in heaven.—Poor Margaret was most loved by those who knew her best. Her benevolent heart, her cheerful spirit, her simple and child-like manners made her an object of interest and admiration wherever she went.  Full of life and spirits, it is not strange that we loved her.  Parents, brothers and sisters mourn her as lost to them forever on earth; they will miss her at the fireside circle, in the festive scene.  Their hearts will bleed as these scenes remind them of their lost one.  She met death with perfect resignation; it had no terrors for her pure and gentle spirit.

It was a bright sun shiny day when we laid her in the quiet grave, there to repose, by her friends that had passed before her, until the resurrection morn.  But the lovely form is stark and cold; the sweet face in repose; she is sleeping quietly now; there is no pain, no agony; there is no restless putting away those dark tresses from the ruined temples—no feverish rush of the blood—no anguish now; all is quiet and still.—Spring will come again, and the genial summer air will sigh over her, and flowers bloom upon her grave, too; but no flower that blossoms there will surpass the beauty and symmetry of her form.

“Pure as the thoughts of angels are,
To see her was to love her.”
Euharlee, Bartow Co., Ga
J. C. C. B.


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