Hamilton, Emma Catherine Snyder (1874-1946)

Mennonite Weekly Review obituary: 1946 Jul 11 p. 3

Birth date: 1874 Nov 10

text of obituary:

EMMA CATHERINE HAMILTON

Emma Catherine, daughter of John and Elizabeth Snyder, was born in Roanoke, Woodford county, Illinois, November 10, 1874, passed away July 4, 1946, aged 71 years, 7 months, 20 days.

With her parents she moved to Cullom, Illinois, where in early life she accepted Christ as her Savior and united with the Mennonite church of which she was a faithful member until the Lord called her home.

On August 11, 1895 she was married to James Tillman Hamilton. To this union were born 10 children: John, James, Peter, Jesse, Phoebe, Hannah, Titus, Ruth, Joe, and Eunice. Peter, Titus and Eunice preceded her in death. Also one grandson.

She was a sincere Christian, a kind and loving mother and wife, a true friend loved by all who know her. Her home was over [sic] open to all, and by her cheerful and consistent living she shed the light of Christianity.

The family and friends deeply mourn her passing, but their loss is her gain. She is survived by her husband, 7 children, and 5 grandchildren, 2 sisters: Mrs. Charles Hamilton and Mrs. Lizzie Byers of Sherian [sic Sheridan], Oregon; three brothers, P. B. Snyder, Ashley, Michigan, Henry Snyder, Elkhart, Indiana, and Jake Snyder, Alpha, Minnesota.

Services were held Saturday afternoon July 6 at the Pleasant Valley Mennonite church near Harper, Kansas. Gideon G. Yoder officiated. He was assisted by R. M. Weaver and W. R. Naffziger.

My Mother

A picture I see, a beautiful face,
Reflecting an image of heavenly grace;
A gift of the highest and sacredest worth
That God ever gave to His people on earth.

A picture which shows many traces of care,
And yet an expression of sweetest love there;
The work of the rarest and lovelies art—
A picture of mother that’s famed in my heart.

No time can efface this picture I see,
Each day it grows dearer and dearer to me;
And though she has crossed to her haven of rest,
Sweet mem’ries of mother lie wrapped in my breast.

The print of her footsteps again I can see,
Her voice I hear saying, “my dear, follow me.”
No artist can paint me a picture so fair —
It takes a true mother; her love, faith, and prayer.