Bluefield Evening Leader, Bluefield, West Virginia
Sunday, April 22, 1906, page 1
On the morning of April 17, 1906, the Angel of Death claimed from their home the little one-year-old baby boy of Mr and Mrs Samuel Roseman, of this county.
Weep not, dear parents, that the cradle is again empty, for the precious little floweret that came and went like a ray of sunshine has only been transplanted into the garden of the Lord. And the tiny baby hands that you used to clasp in an excess of tenderness are now safe beyond the turbid stream beckoning you over.
Sunday, April 22, 1906, page 1
On the morning of April 17, 1906, the Angel of Death claimed from their home the little one-year-old baby boy of Mr and Mrs Samuel Roseman, of this county.
Weep not, dear parents, that the cradle is again empty, for the precious little floweret that came and went like a ray of sunshine has only been transplanted into the garden of the Lord. And the tiny baby hands that you used to clasp in an excess of tenderness are now safe beyond the turbid stream beckoning you over.
Bluefield Evening Leader, Bluefield, West Virginia
Sunday, April 22, 1906, page 1
On the morning of April 17, 1906, the Angel of Death claimed from their home the little one-year-old baby boy of Mr and Mrs Samuel Roseman, of this county.
Weep not, dear parents, that the cradle is again empty, for the precious little floweret that came and went like a ray of sunshine has only been transplanted into the garden of the Lord. And the tiny baby hands that you used to clasp in an excess of tenderness are now safe beyond the turbid stream beckoning you over.
Sunday, April 22, 1906, page 1
On the morning of April 17, 1906, the Angel of Death claimed from their home the little one-year-old baby boy of Mr and Mrs Samuel Roseman, of this county.
Weep not, dear parents, that the cradle is again empty, for the precious little floweret that came and went like a ray of sunshine has only been transplanted into the garden of the Lord. And the tiny baby hands that you used to clasp in an excess of tenderness are now safe beyond the turbid stream beckoning you over.
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