Grayson County TXGenWeb

The Sunday Gazetteer
Sunday, November 9, 1884
pg.4

FUNERAL SERVICES
The funeral services for Mrs. Maj. Dougherty, who died yesterday morning at 5 o'clock, will be conducted to-day at the new Baptist meeting house, at 11 o'clock a.m. The house is not yet quite completed, but at the solicitation of friends, this appointment is made. The public are respectfully invited to attend. The interment will take place at the old cemetery.

The Sunday Gazetteer
Sunday, November 16, 1884
pg. 4

The funeral of Mrs. Maj. Doughty was preached at the Baptist Church last Sunday morning by Rev. W.H. Robert. The large and spacious church was crowded to overflowing, and hundreds followed the remains to the grave.

The Sunday Gazetteer
Sunday, November 16, 1884
pg. 1

IN MEMORIAM OF MRS. G.W. DOUGHTY
Ere the golden rays of the king of day had garnished the eastern horizon with the halo of the morning or cast his beams across the face of nature to kiss away the jewels of the night, we realized that a sweet life had winged its flight to the bosom of him who gave it, and no more will we see the eye of friendship brightened in recognition or note the parting lips to greet our coming, for they are now hushed in death. And while we stand by the cold bier, and know that though the casket is here, the jewel has fled. Such is indeed the fact that we are in the presence of death; and while we feel that the harp of the home is hung on the willow of weeping, and our hearts are sad, that the eye will no more brighten or the lips part to greet us here, it is well that the bright star of the christian's hope cast his silver beam on the dark night of sorrow, and bids us despair not, for verily our loved one was a child of the everlasting God, who in His loving mercy has set His bow of covenant in the sky of the christian's faith, and bids us sorrow not as one who has no hope; for though death has laid his icy fingers on the heart strings, and bidden its beating cease, thanks be unto God of all mercy he cannot hold it forever. For the morning will dawn when our King shall speak the terrors of death back, and bid him loose the prisoner. Then shall we again see her that we loved, on the everlasting shores, and hear the greeting of a friendship here, for the last words that fell on mortal ears were - I pray, I trust, I hope - it is all I can do. So, rest sister, no storm of life's rugged sea thy slumbers will disturb.
W.B. Stinson.