Newton County GaArchives Obituaries.....Davidson, Little Carrol September 17 1899
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Phyllis Thompson http://www.genrecords.net/emailregistry/vols/00011.html#0002524 December 5, 2004, 5:05 pm

The Georgia Enterprise, October 13, 1899
In Memorial
     Little Carrol, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. David Davidson, was born March 18, 
1897, and died September 17, 1899, being two years five months and twenty-nine 
days old.
     Her illness was short and painful, her death sudden and sad. Her fond 
parents had no premonition, no evil forebodings, no thought of the deep sorrow 
they would so soon be called upon to bear.
     Only a short while before she became so ill, she was out in the garden 
with her mother, gathering vegetables. Only a few moments before, all was 
golden sunlight - all sunshine and flowers and love, in the happy home of her 
Christian parents.
But:
“Ere sin should blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to heaven  conveyed,
And bade it blossom there.”
     The Scriptures teach us that some people go to heaven and others to a 
world of woe. There may be some doubt as to the future state of some older 
ones, who die, but there can be none concerning little children. concerning 
these the Master has said: “Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid 
them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven,” and “Millions of infant souls 
compose the family above.”
     Carol was a bright, sweet, and promising child, a veritable sunbeam, the 
light of her home, and the pet of all who knew her. Nor has her life been in 
vain, a blank, a flower that came to no fruit, broken, fallen faded as is 
thought by some; but it has been a precious ministry and one that she only 
could fulfill. 
     This world of ours would be cold and selfish, indeed, without the little 
children. They tell us of innocence and beauty; they cure the heart of 
worldliness; they come to love and to be loved; they touch chords which are 
reserved for their own tiny hands to cause to vibrate solemnly, sweetly; they 
stir in the heart, hidden wells of feeling; they warm our sympathies, and 
deeply subsoil our hard natures. They leave imperishable memorials of 
themselves upon the face of the world. They visit the homes of the most callous 
and soften the hearts of the inmates and draw them homeward, where all other 
voices have been disregarded. Strong men, not given to tears, have often times 
bowed over the little coffin and wept most tenderly. No sermon they ever heard 
so melted them down. Nothing before ever unsealed that fountain of tears.
     “Twas hard to give Carrol up; but her parents and friends have been drawn 
closer together by their common grief, and they will now  think of their common 
tie in heaven and resolve to meet her there. Her death is only God’s messenger 
of reconciliation in this world of strife. Her empty crib, her half worn shoes,
her little stockings, her dainty hood, her snug little wraps, and her soft 
locks of hair, commemorate the painful but pleasing memory of the visitor that 
looked in upon us and smiled and went to heaven bidding us, amid care and 
sorrow to follow on.
     “Mamma I want to get well,” were the last words she uttered, and now she 
is well and in heaven. Comforting thought! Then be still, troubled hearts; for 
your darling is at rest.
“Beautiful hands of a little one, see!
Baby voice calling oh mother, for three;
Rosy cheeked darling, the light of the home,
Taken so early is beckoning come.”
C. E. A.


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