Faustina Milner

 
The Cartersville Express
Cartersville, Georgia
October 3, 1871, page 3
 
Transcribed by:  
 

MISS FAUSTINA MILNER, eldest daughter of Maj. And Mrs. Wm. Milner, in the very youth of her days, departed this life in perfect triumph, on Saturday morning last, after a long lingering illness of consumption.  Her death was a signal triumph of Christian faith over the grim monster, Death.  She waited patiently, on the shores of mortality, for the welcome invitation to come up higher, and grasping her father’s and mother’s hands in hers, after calling up to her bedside one after another of her brothers, sisters, relatives and friends present and delivering her parting admonitions to each, then
“Swift she ascended the heavenly place,
And hastened to her home;
She leaped to meet His kind embrace,
And cried, O Lord, I come.”

Miss Faustina is no more.  In the springtime of life, as the mocking bird plumes its gay feathers and warbles its sweet sonnets, and the flowers with their rich hue and tint scatter their fragrance upon the passing breeze, so did she warble the sweet melodies of music within Zion’s pales and the social circle, and wielded a hallowed influence, in her life, upon her young associates, who now, in sorrow, exclaim,
“Dearest sister, thou hast left us,
Here thy loss we deeply feel.”

Now in perpetual beauty she blooms to fade no more, while she has joined the choir of the redeemed in anthems of unceasing praise to Him who loved her and died to save her, and washed her in His own precious blood.  Weep not father, mother, sisters, brothers, relatives and friends, she is not dead, but sleepeth.

“But again you hope to meet her,
When the day of life is fled;
Then, in heaven, with songs you’ll greet her,
Where no farewell tear is shed.”

Her funeral was preached from her father’s residence on Sunday evening at 2 o’clock, by her pastor, Rev. Theodore E. Smith, and from thence her remains were accompanied, by a large funeral procession, to the old Presbyterian Church grave yard, hard by the gently rolling waters of the beautiful Etowah, and there consigned to the grave, to sleep beside some of her dearly loved associates who had crossed the flood before her, to await the sound of the trumpet in the last day.  Then she will

“Burst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in her Saviour’s image rise.”

 

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