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A Memorial Souvenir of Rev. T. Wofford White

Pastor of Wesley M. E. Church, Charleston, S. C., Who fell asleep, January 7th, 1890, Aged 33 Years

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This Memorial Souvenir is published by request, as a tribute to a friend of worth and great usefulness. Later, will appear his biography, containing a number of his sermons and addresses, and an accurate account of a most fruitful life, together with the sermon preached at his funeral, and other interesting documents, now in process of preparation by his esteemed co-worker, Rev. B. F. Witherspoon.

This book, which will appear in a few months should be in every home in South Carolina, and I bespeak for it a hearty welcome.

GEO. C. ROWE, Vice-President Preachers' Union, Of Charleston.

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POEM READ AT THE FUNERAL OF Reverend J. Mofford White.

G. C. R.
How beauteous, how grand, on the crest of the mountain,
Are the feet of the messenger, servant of God;
The King's representative, bringing good tidings,
Of peace and full pardon, to publish abroad.
How gentle his accents, how winsome and tender
He tells all that wonderful story of love;
Of love so amazing,—magnificent wonder—
Transcending our knowledge, and pointing above.
So he led forth the flock which to him God had given,
Forth into the nourishing pastures of green;
On the right of the beautiful mountain of Zion,
To the bright living waters, the life-giving stream.

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He led them with care in the path of the righteous,
In ways whither conflict and discord must cease;
Where, walking in love, in the footprints of Jesus,
They enter His kingdom through pathways of peace.
And ofttimes he entered the Valley of Shadows
With those whom he loved, to give counsel and cheer;—
To show that in darkness existeth no shadow,
That ev'n in the valley, King Jesus is near.
Yes, near, and His presence dispelleth the darkness,
His radiance in glory outrivals the sun;
When they who trust Him droop in physical weakness,
He gives strength to complete the full course well-begun.
These lessons which often he taught to another,
Were welcomed from others when the closing hours came;
With the courage of faith he greeted each brother,
And welcomed each message they brought in His Name.
The messenger came at the dawn of the morning:
“The Master hath need of thee, come, come away!”
Like a tired little child, his eyes gently closing,
He slept, to awake in the bright realms of day.
'Tis finished! The battle of life now is ended;
A victor he stands on the glorified shore!
'Tis finished! The victory for which he contended
Is won; and he reigneth with Christ evermore!

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We greet thee, dear Brother! Watch, watch, we are coming!
Though here on the nether shore longer we wait!
But watch Brother White, we shall meet in the morning,
With triumph we'll enter the Beautiful Gate!
How beauteous, how grand, on the crest of the mountain
His feet, who God's message hath published abroad;
And, bright as the morning, the crown now adorning,
The brow of our Brother in the palace of God!
January 7th, 1890.

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Brother White.

G. C. R.
We laid him away at sunset,
At the close of a glorious day—
The pastor beloved of many hearts,
The guide to the Living Way.
His life had been one of service,
For the Saviour's honor given;
To the sick and poor and sin-defiled,
The Evangel of Hope and Heaven.
With power he had preached the Gospel,
And many were constrained
Through the vital force of Gospel truth,
To accept the life contained.
In works of love unwearied;
With strength the race he ran;
His cup of usefulness ran o'er;—
A noble, Christian man.

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Death saw the shining target,
And sealed him for the grave,
We saw him fade before our sight,—
No mortal power could save.
While on the verge of Jordan,
He said with glowing face:
“The gift of God—Salvation—
Through faith are ye saved by grace.”
He fell with faith undaunted
Beneath the mighty arm
Of Death, the King of Terrors,
His soul felt no alarm.
In state, before the altar,
Of Wesley, he was laid,
And loving people gathered round
To hear the last words said.
And many a tender tribute,
Was laid upon his bier,
By brethren, in whose inmost heart
His memory is dear.
We bore him from the Chapel,
Amidst the people's wail,
A great, good man has fallen;
How doth the righteous fail!

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But no; he faileth never!
'Tis true his sun is set;
But its blest, hallowed radiance,
Lingers to cheer us yet.
Then came the long procession,
Shekinah's funeral hymn,
“So mote it be,” they murmur,
“God's will is done” in him.
They scatter sprigs of cedar,
And speak of the grave so lone;
Then sing in tones exultant,
“Our brother, safe at home.”
So we laid him away at sunset,
At the close of a glorious day,
The pastor beloved, of many hearts,
A guide to the Living Way.
January 9th, 1890.

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Requiescat in Pace.

G. C. R.
Rest in peace beloved brother,
Holy influence will not cease:
Memory of the just is blessed—
Rest in peace, then, rest in peace.
January 11th, 1890.