Person:Catherine Child (1)

Mrs. Catherine T. Holden

Died in Greenville, Ill, at 9 A.M. Sunday, March 16 at the residence of her son, C. W. Holden, Mrs. Catherine T. Holden in her 75th year. She was born in Medford, Mass. Sept 27, 1798 and when about 20 years old was baptized by Rev. S. S. Mallery and united with the Baptist church in Woburn, Mass., where her membership continued for more than half a century, until she was connected with the church in Greenville, Ill.

She was quiet and reserved in her religious deportment, but consistent and conscientious. She was a true wife and faithful, devoted mother. Four children, several grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren will miss her kindly words and affectionate greeting.

Suddenly stricken with paralysis on the 25th of November 1872, while reading her bible, and losing almost entirely the power of speech ever after, except sometimes to articulate short sentences, she must have suffered greatly, yet she was never known to murmur at her condition, but would often say "God is good".

Many friends who watched her through the long winter nights can testify that her bedside was a place of wonderfully manifested Divine presence and support. She realized every hour the full comfort of the "rod and staff" that supports the trusting pilgrim while "walking through the valley of the shadow".

On the morning that she went to her "home on high", after she had sat up a short time at sunrise, the Bible was accidentally opened to the 103rd Psalm, which was read to her and then a hymn. Soon a change came over her countenance, and a loved member of the family repeated, "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters" to which she responded "Blessed!, Blessed!".

She knew that she was going to her "heavenly mansions" and not even a shadow seemed to come between her and the Eternal City. The transition, without suffering, almost surprised her, retaining her consciousness until the last moment.

Her going was soft as the rustle of angel wings, gentle as the coming of that delightful Sabbath morn, her last on Earth.

She is silent now and our hearts are sad, but the vanished hand seems to beckon, and the loving voice to call to a "land that is fairer than day".

"There is no death! The stars go down To rise upon some fairer shore; And bright in Heaven's jewelled crown They shine forevermore.

There is no death! An angel for Walks o'er the earth with silent tread; And bears our best-loved things away, And then we call them 'dead'."

Tristis.