File:Angels of the battlefield - a history of the labors of the Catholic sisterhoods in the late civil war (1898) (14782677323).jpg

Identifier: angelsofbattlefi00bart (find matches)
Title: Angels of the battlefield : a history of the labors of the Catholic sisterhoods in the late civil war
Year: 1898 (1890s)
Authors: Barton, George, 1866-1940
Subjects: Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul North Caroliniana
Publisher: Philadelphia, Pa., : The Catholic Art Publishing Company
Contributing Library: State Library of North Carolina, Government & Heritage Library
Digitizing Sponsor: LYRASIS members and Sloan Foundation

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has liftedup the weak, and made stronger those who were strong;soothed the wounded,directed all to nobler and higher aims.It would be difficult to find a heart so entirely throbbingfor God as hers; a foot so restless and untiring in doinggood as hers; a brain so busy in devising works for thewelfare of religion and her fellow-men. It is difficult forthose who have not know her to realize the extent of herlabors. It is not every person who can comprehend thedepth of Mother Angelas devotion to the cause of God.Many have seen it but few have understood it. . . .For many a long, long day this community will feel thegap that is made to day by the loss of one who lies in thatnarrow, little coffin. . . . The kind Father General,in the days that are coming, will find how much he haslost in the generous, assisting hand now cold in death. . . And you, young friends, will feel the loss of a tenderand directing parent. . . . It is for us aU to prajthat God may bless her, as I am convinced He has.
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LINCOLN AT GETTYSBURG. MOTHER ANGELA. 287 After the Bishops sermon the final absolution ofthe body was given and then the procession marched tothe modest little cemetery and Mother Angela was laidto rest within a stones throw of where the greater partof her life work had been performed. Mother Angela is the original of the Sister of the HolyCross portrayed in the following poem: I. The din of the battle has died away; The twilight has grown to a deeper gray; The moon rises pale through the mistly cloud, While the blood-stained rivulet moans aloud; And the beams are faint in the kindly stars, For hope shines no more from their goldenbars. The leaves of the tremulous aspen sigh As the night winds, wailing, sweep mournful-ly by. The ambulance glides through the gloomypath, To heed the wreck of the War Demonswrath; And the Angel of Peace, from hisi home sub-lime, Weeps oer mans wretchedness, folly andcrime. II. Tis the hour of midnight. How lightly treadThe feet of the watcher, mid dying

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