Death of Mrs. W. T. Haney.

The lady whose name heads this article died at the residence of Rev. J. T. Gibson, in this city, on Sunday evening last, at 6 o’clock.  She had been sick for a long time, and finally fell a prey to that most dreadful of all diseases, consumption.  Through all the long days and nights of her suffering, she evinced that high degree of patience which religion alone can develop.  She was a good woman, a devoted wife, a loving mother and faithful friend.  Besides many friends and relatives, she leaves behind her to mourn her decease a grief-stricken husband, and a sweet little babe about two months old.  May he who “tempereth the wind to the shorn lamb” let His richest blessings rest upon them.  She met death without fear, and, as she said, went to meet Jesus and her mother.  Just a little while before she died she sang in a faint and weird, yet strangely sweet voice that most beautiful of all hymns—

“While thee I seek protecting power,
Be my vain wishes still,
And may this consecrated hour,
With better hopes be filled.

Thy love, the power of though bestowed;
My thoughts to thee would soar—
Thy mercy o’er my life has flowed,
That mercy I adore.”

The hymn is too long to quote in full here, but the remaining four stanzas are beautiful, and fully gave expression to the dying lady’s feelings.  It is No. 1009 in the Methodist Episcopal hymn book, and is worth reading.

Mrs. Haney was just entering her twenty-second year, and had been married about sixteen months.  Peace be to her ashes.