Edward Fitzgerald

Rev E Fitzgerald

May 13, 1828 - Feburary 8 1912

Memory Cemetary

New Market, Iowa

Photo & ID from Donna (Fitzgerald) Toscano
via
http://www.jowest.net/genealogy/Jo/Fitzgerald/EdwardFitzgeraldTombstone.htm

Adaline Harris

Adaline Harris Fitzgerald
March 1, 1832 - November 30, 1892
Trenton Nebraska

Photo & ID from Donna (Fitzgerald) Toscano
via
http://www.jowest.net/genealogy/Jo/Fitzgerald/AdalineHarrisFitzgerald.htm

My Wife at the Gate

This is a poem written by Edward Fitzgerald about his wife Adaline Harris (whom my daughter Adalyn in named after).


MY WIFE AT THE GATE

There's many a lonely picture,
On memory's silent wall;
There's many cherished images,
That I tenderly recall.
The sweet home of my childhood
With its singing brooks and birds;
The friends who grew beside me,
With their loving looks and words.

The flowers that decked the wildwood
The roses fresh and sweet;
The pinks and the daisies,
That blossomed at my feet.

These were all very precious,
And often come to me;
Like breezes from a better land,
Beyond life's troubled sea.

But the sweetest, dearest picture
That memory can create;
Is the image of my Wife,
My WIFE, my jewel at the gate.

It is there I see her standing,
With her face so pure and fair;
With the sunlight and the shadows
On her snowy white hair.

I can feel the soft warm pressure,
Of the hand that clasped my own;
I can see the look of fondness,
That in her pure eyes shone.

I can hear her parting words,
Through the three long years;
I can see the look of fondness,
That in her pure eyes shone.

I can hear her parting words,
Through the three long years;
I can see through all my sorrows,
Her own sweet silent tears.

Ah! amid the darkest trials,
That have mingled with my fate:
I have turned to that, dear image,
My Wife at the gate.

But she has crossed the river,
She is with angels now;
She has laid aside earth's crosses,
And the crown is on her brow.

She is clothed in clean white linen,
And she walks the street of gold;
O, loved one, safe forever
Within the Savior's fold.

No sorrowing thoughts can reach her,
No grief is hers today;
God gives her joy for mourning,
Her tears are wiped away.

She is waiting in that city,
Where the saints and angels wait;
And I'll know my dearest Wife,
When I reach the pearly gate.

So, when was stilled her weary heart,
Folded her hands so white;
And she was carried from the home,
She'd always made so bright.

Her children raised a monument,
That money could not buy;
As witness of noble life,
Whose record is on high.

A noble life, but written not,
In any book of fame;
Among the list of noted ones,
None ever saw her name.

For only her household knew,
The victories she had won;
And none but they could testify,
How well her work was done.

Faithful hands that toiled so long,
Lips that sung her morning song;
They can hush my sighs no more,
Lighten burdens as before.

Behold the days are running fast,
I'm with the old already classed;
Soon will the darksome vail be passed
Then comes the hour, when at last,
My spirit arms will around her cast.

I'll labor on and not repine,
Until I'm called to meet my Adeline;
Though ever so lonely I must wait,
I expect to meet my wife at the gate.



Composed By
Elder E.(dward) Fitzgerald
about 1895


How were related:

Jessica B Brown ---> Virginia Sorenson (living) ---> Ned William Sorenson (1919 - 2000) ---> Nellie Ida McLean (1889 - 1965) ---> Emma Jean Fitzgerald (1862 - 1900)
---> Adaline Harris (1832 - 1892) & Edward Fitzgerald (1828 - 1912)