Miss Helen White


Contributed by Jackye Penney

The Teague Chronicle

On the evening of Jan. 3, 1923, a shadow was thrown over the home as the Death Angel came and claimed as its victim, Miss Helen White, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. A. H. White.

"There is a reaper whose name is death." As certain as a flower of humanity blooms, so shall it be reaped.

In our present state of mind we doubtless feel that if we could call Helen back to life we would gladly do so. Perhaps the time may come--I hope it may--when we shall think of her as one who has escaped much suffering, pain and heartaches, all in the providence of God. I am sure if Helen could but speak to us today, her joys would be beyond words, her sorrow and misery forever ended, and yet she lives. What a wonderful thing!

Only where Christ brings His cross He brings His presence and where He is none are desolate and there is no room for despair. As He knows His own, so He knows how to comfort them. 

It is a melancholy pleasure to dwell upon the virtues and accomplishments of Helen, our memory of her will be as an innocent, unspotted soul. "A place is vacant in our home, A voice we loved is stilled," 

This daughter and sister was to her family the highest treasure and greatest joy of life. No more does her voice ring out in this world, in the praise of the Lord. The school children, with tear-rimmed eyes, watch the school room door, longing for Miss White, to enter with the sweet smile of loving kindness she always wore. 

But yesterday we looked upon her sweet smiling face; today she peacefully sleeps in a new made grave beneath the sod and dew, where the lillies nod and wave.

Weep not, loved ones, she awaits on yonder shore to welcome you home.

We know that it's our loss here on this earth; but we also know that it's eternal gain. Helen is not lost utterly to us, even on earth;  there is now something warm and still familiar in that beloved of ours, to whom we yearn out past the grave--not cold and ghostly--as once seemed--but human, sympathetic with a well known face. 

Trust in God and hard it may seem, remember that "He doeth all things well."

May God comfort you. Time alone can bring you peace, but you have this assurance, it is well with Helen.

"There is no union here of hearts,
That finds not here an end.
Were this frail world our only rest,
Living or dying, none were blest."

"There is a world above,
Where parting is unknown,
A whole eternity of love
And blessedness alone;
And faith beholds the dying here,
Translated to that happier sphere."

With sympathy,
Myra Simmons