For My Sisters

	Our father dead!, O can it be
	That death has won the victory?
	O no not death, "Tis that blest sleep
	From which non ever wakes to weep".

	How could we give our father up?
	How could we drink life's bitter cup
	But for the promise Christ has given
	That we may meet again in heaven.

	Fond hope of ours, That Christ will come
	And raise our bodies from the tomb,
	And that this mortal then shall be
	All changed to immortality

	Then with the risen saints we'll sing
	Where now Oh death, where is thy sting;
	Thy triumph Lord we then shall see,
	Death swallowed up in victory. 

				Ruth Alkire
				Sigourney, Iowa April 10, 1879

Note by Dennis Nicklaus, 1998:
The above poem was discovered in 1998 among the possessions of some
descendents of Lucinda (Matthews) Sprague. Ruth (Matthews) [Scott]
Alkire was Lucinda's sister.  Their father died 7 Nov 1878.  It was
found with a letter from a third sister, Mary (Matthews) Robertson,
which read:

	This is some poetry that Aunt Ruth wrote us over 40 years ago. I 
	also have another "Musings" which I will copy and send you some 
	time if you wish.

					Aunt Mary
	June 1926  Mary Robertson, 1045 Blaine Ave., Salt Lake City, UT