Died March 12, 1901 Ensor Valley, Putnam Co., TN |
The angel of death unfolded its wings over the bed of
William Ensor and his spirit, in obedience of its summons, returned to
God who gave it. Mr. Ensor was born March 14,1825, died March 12, 1901.
He lacked only two days living 76 years this side of the grave. He was
married to Miss Naomi Huddleston Nov. 5th, 1846, and moved within a short
time to his new home in the 12th district of Putnam County, Tennessee,
where he lived until his death. He and his lifetime companion spent about
55 years together in almost unalloyed happiness. They have eight children,
six of whom survive their father. Mr. Ensor's father, Jonathan L. Ensor
came to this country when Tennessee was in her infancy. He was married
to Miss Ruth Jared early in life, and they had but one son. So William
Ensor and His descendants are
the only ones of the name living in this country. He
was in the late Civil War and did valiant service for the lost cause, and
when the Southern Confederacy went down, his heart still swelled with a
sense of duty and a patriotic pride for his country.
He was converted to Christianity in the Fall of 1859.
He was a member of the M. E. Church South, to which he has been a great
stay religiously as well as financially. His home was always a happy retreat
for his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and friends. Especially
were his doors always thrown wide open for the traveling ministers. Really
his home has been remarkable for its hospitalities and welcome. Mr. Ensor
has a strong love for his family, which is a characteristic of his entire
race. He based his religion on truth and justice, never was known to be
on extremes, but lived up to his standard until death. He was an honest
man. He ate a hearty supper Tuesday night March I 1, and retired to his
bed of rest. Some time in the night he fell asleep in the arms of the Savior
whom he had served so faithfully through life. Within a few hours after
his death, all his children who survive him, a number of
his grandchildren, and great grandchildren, and a host
of his friends were around his death bed.
The same day of his death, his body at the head of the
funeral procession, was carried to the lonely hilltop, and deposited in
the silent earth, just as the sun was rocking the drowsy day to sleep,
in the far off cradle of the west. A very touching and impressive service
was conducted by Bro. Dinges. Companion,
kindred, and friends, together with the hilltops and
valleys that knew him so long and so well. If all the noble deeds done
by him were flowers, we could gather a million bouquets from the hearts
of his countrymen today.
His heart was the temple of truth, his lips were its oracles. He lived through the stormy period of his country but died a hero. He saw the shadow of an invisible wing sweep across his pillow. A pallor came over his face, his heart forgot to beat, there was only a sigh, and tired lips were drawn like purple curtains over tired eyes, tired lips were closed forever, tired hands were folded on a motionless breast. The awful mystery of life was veiled in the mystery of death.
What is life? What is death? Is it all of life to live?
Is it all of death to die? A babe is born into the world. It opens its'
eyes to the light of day and smiles in the face of its loving Mother. And
they tell us that is life. The child wanders from the cradle into the fairyland
of youth and dreams among its' flowers. But youth soon wakes into manhood
and his soul is all afire with ambition. He rushes into the struggles of
real life,
and winds his way through this stormy world. The joys
of youth are the blossoms of hope. Manhood gathers the golden fruits.
But death robs the bird of this song and steals laughter from the lips
of childhood. Death plucks the blossoms of youth and turns the golden fruits
of manhood to ashes on the lips of age. But we know there is a God and
a place of rest for the weary soul. And let us trust that the Christ who
spoke to the troubled waters of Galilee has spoken peace the soul of our
parted friend and that
his eyes have opened in a blissful immortality. It only
remains for us to say: Unveil thy bosom faithful tomb. Take this new treasure
to thy trust. And give these sacred relics room, to slumber in the silent
dust.
A Friend
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