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ImageHEN Rev. Henry came to take charge in Fridhem, in the first part of June, 1918, the congregation had been without a pastor but one day. Rev. Berg had only two days before gone to his new charge at Genoa, and there had virtually been no interruption in the church work by reason of the change of pastors.Picture

   The year 1918 was a year of great import for the United States. We had been in the war more than a year, and messages had long been coming telling of those who had laid down their lives for their country. The summer waned, fall came, and the portentous 11th of November dawned. This was the day the armistice was signed, and the whole world rejoiced. It was felt that the war was at an end. But the plague, that grim follower on the heels of war, had come, and his harvest was greater than that of the war itself. The "Spanish Influenza" had spread from the death-infected fields of Europe, until the graves of its victims dotted the whole earth. The Fridhem church was closed during December, 1918, and part of January, 1919, on account of the plague. It is true, the Christmas morning service was held by permission of the local Board of Health, but the Sunday-school's Christmas Tree Festival was postponed until it was deemed safe to hold it.

    The war work had not been neglected by the congregation, and while there had been no flare up or blatant demonstration of patriotism, it was nevertheless there -- a silent plodding determination to serve the country to the ut-


130

THE FRIDHEM CHURCH

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JUBILEE ALBUM

131

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"THE FUNERAL SERVICES OF MRS. VENDLA ADAIL HENRY AT FUNK AND MALMO, NEBR.
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132

THE FRIDHEM CHURCH

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I shall sleep, but not for ever,
   In my lonely, silent grave
God doth join and God doth sever,
    Praise to Him for what He gave.
 
When He calls us to His glory,
    To the joy for us in store,
Time is meet whene'er He chooses --
    Death shall find us nevermore.


JUBILEE ALBUM

133

I shall sleep, but not forever;
   I shall rise at Glory's Dawn,
Greet the friends I left here mourning,
    When all the old is changed and gone."

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TO G. W. HENRY*

BY C. A. LONNQUIST

Lightly o'er the blooming meadows wending
   In the rosy morn our way in glee,
With our friends, throughout a time unending,
    And with them forever happy be,
Such, ye brethren, was the dream we cherished --
Such the dream that perished.

Fortune seeks us with unstinted measure;
    Through our hands her token swiftly slips;
Broken falls the foaming cup of pleasure
    Ere its golden rim has touched the lips:
While the mystic stream of life is flowing,
Friends we own are going.


But a time shall come when myst'ries falling
    Shall reveal what here we did not know,
And for him, who feels life's bitt'rest calling,
    Shall the dawn of Sabbath burst and glow.
Unto us, what grandest heav'n is holding,
We shall see unfolding.

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