Newspaper Page Text
.
1 '""" <% tfnifff
ft JkSMrMEjl^xeL
♦
VOL.
A WONDERFUL MOTHER GONE
MRS. H. B. FOLK MOTHER OF GOV. JOS. W. FOLK OF MISSOURI, THE PREACHERS, SEVERAL EDUCATORS AND CHRIS
* TIAN STATESMEN, IS CALLED HOME TO GOD—A NEW CALL TO MOTHERHOOD.
T' N the recent death of Mrs. 11. B. Folk,
2L-L the modest but wonderful mother of
the famous “Folk Brothers,” the sor
rowing thousands who knew her but
to love her stand ready to put new emphasis
on the meaning of Christian womanhood, while
countless other thousands who did not know
this great woman in person, but who knew all
or either of her justly illustrious sons, are
ready to place a new crown on the brow which
consecrated MOTHERHOOD wears.
And women —true, womanly women every
where, her own noble daughters among them,
have a new call it seems to me to fall on their
knees and ask God to give them children —
children that they may train for Him and
His cause.
My mother’s Bible. It itself ’tis dear,
But doubly dear it is, because her
hands
Once turned its pages, and my moth
er’s eyes
Persued its heavenly message; as I
hold
The time-worn volume and unloose
its clasps
What hallowed memories wake and
speak to me!
What blest associations of the past
Rebind long broken ties, and hold
my heart
Fast with their magic power!
Out of this book
My mother drew great riches for her
soul,
And shared with other souls the prec
ious store,
There,at this fountain of immortal love
Whence flows the river of eternal life,
She quenched her spirit’s thirst; here,
when the gloom
Os some great sorrow overcast her
life,
She found sweet solace in her favorite
psalm,
And light in darkness; evermore the
face
Os her Redeemer and her Saviour
smiled
Upon her from the pages of this book,
INSPIRING VACATION WORK FOR PLUCKY STUDENTS—WRITE THE GOLDEN AGE.
ATLANTA, GA., MAY 8, 1913
By WILLIAM D. UPSHAW, Editor.
A Memory of Brownsville.
It is now seventeen years since I went to
historic Brownsville. Tenn., on an invitation
from Miss Mary Folk to lecture under the
auspices of her “Gleaners.” It was my privi
lege—what a priceless memory!—to be guest
in the home-like home of Judge and Mrs. H.
B. Folk for nearly a week, and those golden
days of friendship and fellowship have been
to my thought-life and heart-life “like a bunch
of camp-phire from the vineyards of Engidi.”
Edgar Fok was then, as now, editor of the
Baptist and Reflector; Humphrey, the other
preacher, was away at college; Reau was in
Nashville laying the foundation of his honored
public career as Treasurer of Tennessee; Carey
Mother's Bible
Charles W. Hubner.
Mrs. H. B. Folk —A Wonderful Moth .r Gone.
Folk was then the ideal President of Browns
ville Female College (and he is robbing some
great college for women today by being in
commercial life in Nashville) ; and Joe Folk,
then a young lawyer, had just gone to “bury
himself in St. Louis,” his neighbors hardly
dreaming that he would so soon come up out
of the pit with the greatest reform movement
of a generation upon his ample shoulders,
crowned by the governorship of his adopted
state.
I saw his sweetheart, queenly Gertrude Glass,
living just next door —and I’ll never be satis
fied until I see them both reigning in their
modest majesty over the White House in
Washington.
Misses May and Gertrude Folk were then
(Continued on page 6.)
And as He spake her heart was com
forted.
And evermore, no matter how the
stress
Os daily life ,its tumult and its toil,
Its grief, its varying hours of joy and
pain,
Would thrust itself upon her, she
would find
Leisure to read this holiest of all
books,
In meditation’s sacred silence thus
Walking with God, and Him, the cru
cified.
Though many a year has vanished
since her hand
Lay last upon this book, and hand and
heart
Have moldered into dust, yet, some
how, still
Her spiritual presence seems most
near,
When in my hands I hold this treas
ured book;
Out of its pages, as I turn them o’e?,
My mother’s eyes seem gazing into
mine,
And a sweet voice that sounds like
hers I hear;
Therefore, not only for itself alone,
But for these thoughts and memories
as well,
Do I esteem this venerable book,
And reverently press it to my heart.
ONE DOLLAR AND FIFTY CENTS
A YEAR :: FIVE CENTS A COPY