Not Changed, But Glorified

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I purchased a mystery lot of photos from The Frozen Picture Show on Etsy.  It’s a great shop that specializes in vernacular photos and antique ephemera.  If that’s your kind of thing, you should definitely check them out.

Written on the reverse of this image is “Winthrop Anderson in Hawley, Pauline Simpson Anderson, Hattie Simpson her sister.”

Hawley is located in northwestern Massachusetts.  Based on Winthrop’s birth date of August 25, 1904, and taking into consideration the landscape in the photograph, I gather this was captured in the fall of 1905.  Sadly, Hattie, standing on the left, died of Bright’s disease, a disorder of the kidneys, in March 1906.  She was just 37 years old.

Hattie was 12 years old when her sister, Pauline, was born in 1881.  Unlike Pauline, who married Eben H. Anderson, and had four children, Hattie remained a single woman.  Her death record lists her occupation as a domestic.

Hattie’s headstone reads “Not Changed, But Glorified.”  In her honor, here is the poetry her epitaph references.  I’m not a religious person, but I found meaning in the words.

Not Changed, But Glorified, Oh beauteous language
For those who weep,
Mourning the loss of some dear face departed,
Fallen asleep.
Hushed into silence, never more to comfort
The hearts of men,
Gone, like the sunshine of another country,
Beyond our ken.

Oh dearest dead, we saw thy white soul shining
Behind the face,
Bright with the beauty and celestial glory
Of an immortal grace.
What wonder that we stumble, faint and weeping,
And sick with fears,
Since thou has left us, all alone with sorrow,
And blind with tears?

Can it be possible no words shall welcome
Our coming feet?
How will it look, that face that we have cherished
When next we meet?
Will it be changed, so glorified and saintly,
That we shall know it not?
Will there be nothing that will say, “I love thee,
And I have not forgot?”

Oh faithless heart, the same loved face transfigured
Shall meet thee there,
Less sad, less wistful, in immortal beauty
Divinely fair.
The mortal veil washed pure with many weepings,
Is rent away,
And the great soul that sat within its prison
Hath found the day.

In the clear morning of that other country,
In paradise,
With the same face that we have loved and cherished
She shall arise!
Let us be patient, we who mourn, with weeping,
Some vanished face,
The Lord has taken, but to add more beauty
And a diviner grace.

And we shall find once more, beyond earth’s sorrows,
Beyond these skies,
In the fair city of  the “sure foundations,”
Those heavenly eyes,
With the same welcome shining through their sweetness,
That met us here;
Eyes, from whose beauty God has banished weeping
And wiped away the tear.

Think of us, dearest one, while o’er life’s waters
We seek the land,
Missing thy voice, thy touch, and the true helping
Of they pure hand.
Till, through the storm and tempest, safely anchored
Just on the other side,
We find thy dear face looking through death’s shadows,
Not changed, but glorified.

~ Anonymous

Sources:
Census records
Find A Grave
Not Changed But Glorified: And Other Verses, by John Harris Knowles, 1899
Massachusetts, Death Records, 1841-1915

 

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