Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Mrs. Emily Stevens Ricketts

Hartford Herald
April 18, 1877

In Memorandum

Mrs. Emily Ricketts, wife of Wm. T. Ricketts, daughter or John and Deborah Stevens, was born in Ohio county, Ky., August the 10th, 1833, made a profession of religion and joined the M. E. Church South, when she was quite young, (while Brother Roads had charge of this circuit), died at the residence of her husband, in county and State, aforesaid, April 1st, 1877, leaving a kind husband, two daughters, one son and many friends, who mourn her absence. Sister Ricketts was truly a Christian lady, as a wife, true and faithful, as a mother, kind and affectionate; unostentatious and unpretending in her manner, but truly chaste and refined in her conversation and practical associations in life. Sister Ricketts was devotedly attached to her church and her brethren. Her practical piety was uniform and consistent. Her sufferings were long and severe; but faith and hope in Christ enabled her to pass through the deep waters and fear no evil. Her pastor visited her twice during her illness, found her calm and contemplative, giving evidence of strong faith in Christ and resignation to his will. A short time previous to her death she sent for her esteemed friend and brother, the Rev. G. J. Bean, and gave to understand that all was well, that her house was in order, and that she was ready to depart and be with Christ. In witnessing the death of a dear and fond one, how forcibly are we impressed with the truth that the bed of death brings everyone to his or her pure individuality to the intense contemplation of that deepest and most solemn of all relations, the relation between the creature and Creator. Here it is that all external help must fail to aid, that friend’s affection and human love and devotedness cannot succor. And yet what in man's extremity is God's opportunity to show how Jesus can make a dying bed "Feel soft as downy pillows are."

A few weeks before she died, she was apprised of the fact that her days on earth were nearly numbered, and that the nearer she drew to the chasm, the narrower apparently it became, until God gave her faith and strength to bridge it, hiding it from her view with the wings of his love; and as noiseless falls the foot of time that treads on flowers, so passed her spirit from its clayey tenement to God who gave it.
W. W. Cook
G. J. Bean

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