Obituary of Mr. Sam Sawyer, 1919

Submitted for the Union Parish Louisiana USGenWeb Archives by Debbie Richard, 11/2001
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Wednesday December 24, 1919 FARMERVILLE GAZETTE

IN LOVING MEMORY

On the 19th day of November, 1919, the hand that gently breaks the cord 
of life, touched the soul of a loved one, Mr. Sam Sawyer, and carried his 
spirit away to the bright realms of bliss.
He was born in South Carolina and came to Louisiana and fought in the 
Civil War. After the war, he was married to Mrs. Dr. Phelps, better know as 
Miss Elizabeth Taylor. They made their home at Rocky Branch church.
He leaves a wife, six children--two girls and four boys and thirty-eight 
grandchildren, a host of other relatives and friends to mourn his death.
About five years ago he took to the bed with rheumatism in his right leg. 
But recovered from that, and had very good health until April, 1919, he gave 
out in his right leg and arm. Then had to be put in his chair. He was 
rolled in his chair until a few months ago he took his death bed.
O! how sad it was to see him sinking away every day. Gradually giving 
up everything in this world for a better.
Grandpa was eighty-eight years old when he died. He loved little 
children. When he was able to walk, wherever you saw him he carried one in 
his arms. In his chair, he had one in his lap; on his bed they were all 
around him. He tried to notice them all the time. But God called him to 
fill that vacant chair, and he left us all to follow after him.
Do not cry for Grandpa, little ones, for God took him to be with other 
little children.
All was done that physical aid could devise and love and affection could 
suggest. But to no avail, our Heavenly Father called him home.
He is not dead, but only sleeping that peaceful slumber in Paradise to 
awake on that resurrection morn, to greet us with that Heavenly Host. We can 
only think of him sweetly resting so much better than was.
There was nothing more beautiful than to see how easily he endured his 
suffering while conscious, as he never complained any way whatever. In his 
humble and patient way, he bore the pain, misery and woe.
No more will we hear the sweet hum of war song, that he loved to sing so 
well.
Yes, dear Grandpa, it was hard to give you up, but later we will realize 
that our Father works in mysterious ways for the better.

A loving Granddaughter
Eva Ward

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