WORDS OF HER MOTHER SPOKEN AT THE FUNERAL

     I hesitate to speak, for this sorrow is doubly hard on my husband. His precious first wife died in like manner. Somehow I feel like praising the Lord, for I believe that Jesus has taken Evangeline from a world of suffering, as much as I wanted her with us. So many prayers have been prayed for her healing, but it seemed nobody was able to get hold of God for her. When husband heard of this sorrow, he was overpowered with grief, and Tuesday night, twenty hours after Evangeline was in heaven, I knelt by the side of our bed, and prayed, "Dear Lord, my husband can't stand this (he was getting stiff, his heart was paining him), wilt Thou please give him, tonight, a sight of the other world and let him see Evangeline?" He did not say anything of my rather simple prayer.

     I was in a sound sleep, and about 5:00 o'clock the next morning he awakened me with a joyful expression: "Julia, I have seen Evangeline". I was not surprised, for I knew God would answer, and I said, "Tell me! tell me!"

     "Oh, it was in great auditorium where the saints were gathered, all dressed in white. There was a sea of faces and the saints were placed in the auditorium according to their rank; the I lost spiritual were in the front. Evangeline was dressed in white and was sitting next to the front seat, (mature, though young). I watched her and she arose to testify, but she was so short the people couldn't see her. The leader, who seemed to be Jesus Christ, or some one from the other world, beckoned to Evangeline to come to the platform, and said, Evangeline, come up higher!'"

     My ideal of a 'laughter has always been one who is a companion to her mother. I realized my fond ambition in Evangeline. She and I were chums. We were just like girls together. Her interests were mine, and mine were hers. We taught school together in the winter, and evangelized together in the summer.

     Our lives went in parallels. We were married at the same age. Our husbands were somewhat our seniors in years. They were both evangelists. When they were gone we shared our loneliness together, and I felt for her keenly for I knew she would likely have to spend many long weeks at home alone, and I determined I would help make them pleasant days.

     She was no less a comfort to her father. Their love seemed to increase daily. It was her pleasure to slip away from home a few days and assist him in his revivals, or relieve me of extra work so I could help him.

     She was greatly helped of the Lord in altar work. When the rest of us became discouraged with chronic seekers, her sympathetic heart and her simple faith caused her to hold right on until they came through shining.

     As her husband is one of the choice men of the earth and perhaps one of the greatest of soul-winners, Mr. Shelhamer and I had planned a series of revival campaigns in the western states in the near future. Our party was to consist of Mr. and Mrs. Surbrook, Everette, Esther, Mr. Shelhamer, and the writer.

     In her home life Evangeline had a veritable honeymoon. Her husband was of the noblest type of manhood -- high ideals and a broad mind. Just why they should be thus separated is a mystery -- God must explain.

     Her favorite song was "This world is not my home, I'm just a-passing through." A little while before she died she inspired all, when in a revival service at the College she sang 'When I put on the Wedding Robe.' This was her last song in public. That fatal disease, uremic poisoning, did its work, in spite of many prayers and considerable fasting, besides the best medical aid available.

     Our sorrow is no small sorrow. We gave our eldest and best prepared child; this is a great sorrow -- an unmeasured one. And since we gave the most valuable thing we had, no doubt the Lord will give us a valuable reward in return.

     Deep sorrow, if borne patiently and submissively, entitles one to joys in heaven above those who suffer little. Jesus revealed to me that we were now elevated to a higher plane where we could share the glory reserved for those who have suffered deeply, even (in a measure) with God Himself, who gave his Son to suffer and die.

     Her Aunt Helen (Arnold), whom she used to assist in mission work, sends the following lines to her memory: