She was a
member of the English Lutheran church in Grove and Sixteenth streets,
was one of the Christian Endeavor workers and Sabbath school teachers
and her ambition was to sing in the choir and among the young people
of the church. During the three years' directorship of the choir, I
had gathered the young people together and the music was of a high
order. A number of them sang in the choir.
During these years Miss Pauline had become the promised bride of the
man of her choice and the day was drawing near and all preparations
were completed and the cozy home furnished. Only a few weeks remained
before the chorus of Lohengrin was to be sung by the young voices of
her friends who loved her so well. While we propose, God disposes, and
our expectant bride fell sick and the edict went forth that she should
be the Bride of Heaven and on May 1, 1905, she passed away. Instead of
the wedding song I was called upon to sing the parting song for the
beloved pupil. I thought I had fully prepared myself for the ordeal
and was ready to comply and perform the sad task which befell me.
After the family had passed into their pew, my tears began to start as
I saw the bowed head of her devoted mother, who was giving up her
first-born child so young to lie in the tomb. But I was not prepared
for the sight of the white casket as it was wheeled into the church,
with the solitary mourner, her promised husband, slowly following all
that was left of his bride-to-be, robed as for the bridal and her
shimmering veil tied in a large bow knot and the bridal wreath placed
lightly upon the casket with lilies of the valley and maiden-hair
ferns, trailing in graceful festoons around the casket.
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