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Born Marjory Adams April 12, 1915

Died Marjory Promney Jan 8, 1997


There was never a Mother so dear as mine.

I always remember as a child

that my mother was always there.

She never worked outside the home.

She was always available to kiss

the hurts and pray for the wounds.

She had great faith in God and taught that to us.

She was a shining example to us in every way.

She loved us all dearly and showed us that love every day.

She taught us how to sew and cook,

not actually with lessons, but more with actions.

She also taught us about love,

because she loved my dad

more than anyone else on this earth.

I never saw them fight or argue,

there was always peace in our home.

When he passed away, I know part of her died too.

But the thing I remember most about my Mom is

her love for her saviour.

From the time I was very little,

I always had a desire to serve God,

because of the example I saw in her.

She was a tower of strength when my sister died

and then a few months later, when my dad died.

She taught us what faith in God meant

and I will always love her for that.

She is in Heaven now, along with my dad

and I am sure that they are even happier there

then they were on this earth.

So I give this tribute to her here

as a respect for a woman of great faith.

These are the words to the song that is playing.

It was one of my mother's favourites

and also the theme of her life.

She was determined that

no matter what came her way,

her peace was in God.

It Is Well With My Soul

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.


It is well, with my soul,

It is well, with my soul,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blessed assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.


My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!


And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.



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