Submitted by Sharon McConnell

John Whitmill Butler


Written by a Friend of W. Butler

Shannon, Ga., Nov. 16, 1896 - I see in last week's Argus, some one has written a few lines in loving remembrance of Mr. J. W. Butler. Every word of the piece was true, and much more could be said of his noble, Christian life.

He was, when he live here, a shining light in our church; he inspired all who knew him with confidence in him and the God whom he served so faithfully. There was no work but Mr. Butler was willing and anxious to lend a helping hand.

He was my Sunday school teacher, and he always greeted his class with smiles and kind words, and always had a nice talk with us over our lesson, and there was not one of us but what dearly loved him, but all who knew him knew his outside live, probably not so many new his home life, and in the home and family circle is the place to judge of a noble life.

Oh, if there were many more such noble husbands and fathers as was Mr. Butler, what a grand world this would be! Loving, kind and helpful to his wife, ready to approve his children's innocent pastimes by kind words and smiles; ever on the watch for any evil that might spring up, and quick to put it down with tender though firm hands, and when the days pleasures were done, then he gathered his loved ones and friends around the fireside and there read a chapter of God's word and then gave thanks for the blessings and asked mercies for the future, and bore the needy ones to the throne of mercy on the wings of prayer, and we sought our beds feeling that earnest prayer in our hearts.

Oh, what a tower of strength he was to his family and friends! And it seems so sad that one whose life was so noble and helpful, should be taken away from this world where so much help is needed; but God knows best and doeth all things well.

Mr. Butler is now with the ransomed ones, there to intercede with the Father for his loved ones and friends here on earth. Our hearts are so dad, and the was so lonely, and rough is the path that our weary feed press; yet faith pleadeth ever, "Oh, fail not to trust him!" The dear Father knows, it is all for the best. Some day we shall know why the dear ones were taken; for the angels will summon us home to our rest. There with faith lost in sight and vision grown clearer, we shall see as God sees us and know it is best. A Friend.

A Memorandum.

Just as the hands of the clock pointed to the hour of eight on that beautiful Sabbath morning of November 1, the patient spirit of J. W. Butler took its flight to its everlasting home in the paradise of God.

For two long years he had been a sufferer with a disease of the bowels, and for several weeks before he died he was confined to his bed. In all of his sufferings, and at times they were intense, he was meekly resigned to the will of God, and many times expressed himself as "anxious to depart and be with Christ."

The day before he died he called his family around his bedside and exhorted them to live Christian lives, to be temperate and Godly, to be zealous in church and Sabbath school work, and to always be ready to attend every service of the church and carry their children and train them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.

The funeral services were conducted by his pastor, Rev. C.L. Conn, assisted by Rev. W. M. McKenzie, after which the remains were interred in the cemetery at Pleasant Valley.

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