Obituary — What is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away – James 4:14

Departed this life on the evening of the first instant, Lizzie PHILLIPS, second daughter of the late William R. and Mollie B. PHILLIPS, aged eighteen years, four months, and fifteen days.

A purer and more gentle spirit never winged its flight to the realms of bliss.  If fitness for heavenly enjoyment be attainable only through tribulation here, then indeed has she gone to inherit a full and blessed reward in the better land.  Rarely does it fall to the lot of one so young to experience the sufferings she endured.  She had watched over the death beds of many near and dear to her, with an untiring devotion and warm sympathy, and often ministered to their wants and have towed her attention until exhausted nature compelled the seeking of needed repose.  Her life was truly praiseworthy and exemplary.  She delighted in reading her Bible, which was her daily practice — In her, the christian calling found a bright adornment worthy of the imitation of the youth of both sexes, nay of all classes and conditions who seek a conscientious discharge of duty to God, and wish to make their lives an honor to Him.

A short while before the final trial, <…> if the departing sprit had a presentiment or fore knowledge of approaching dissolution inaxious yet gentle tones came softly the words, “Sister, sit near me, and soon after, “Why are you so sorrowful?”  No further utterance escaped those lips, but I can picture the emotions of her sinking heart “Tribulation! tribulation – Ah! in that school, I overcame the world, and am now going home.  Dear father dear mother, I come.  Now at the time of the falling leaves, to some the saddest of the year — when nightly frosts are fast <…>ping earth’s beauties, the reaper Death is here for me and I am ready. Death?

There is no death, what seems so is transition,

This life of mort I breath,

Is but a suburb of the life Elysian,

Whose portals we call death.

Sister, I pray thee, never weep for me,

Whatever be my lot,

A sigh is all I ask of thee,

The tear availeth not

Waft me to heaven on thy sighs,

There [sic] cares cannot avail me,

But dash those tear drops from thine eyes

They cannot now avail me,

What can afford a sweeter consolation to the bereaved ones, than the thought of their dear Lizzie being at once received by celestial guardians, and trained in the lessons of angelic wisdom and love? She a tender floweret of hope not so much nipped and withered by death as transplanted to a heavenly garden there to flourish in a brighter bloom through ages without end.

On the 3rd inst., the burial took place, and many sympathizing friends were in attendance.  The sun had sunk below the horizon, and night was fast approaching, when her body was committed to the ground.  Upon the lowered bier this shoveled clay fell fast, and filled, the void.  Maidens and young men, while the flowers remain, go and scatter some on her mound.  It will be pleasant through melancholy duty and may lead to rich profit, by softening the hearts of those of you, who have hitherto perhaps kept back, from God.  He warned, be instructed, be wise, the lesson is for you.  Early called, early saved.

Farewell, Lizzie! Till we see thee again, farewell.  Surely you will wear a crown of imperishable lustre in the Paradise of God where no leaf withers and no flower fades.  The Lord grant that that sister and other grief-stricken ones who now mourn their loss, when their hour shall come may indeed sit with Lizzie in the mansion of light eternal in the heavens.

Source: Roanoke News, 9 November 1878. Available online at digitalnc.org.