Abel Robinson (1823-1902)

ROBINSON.—Abel Robinson was born at Olney, Buckinghamshire, England, Feb. 12, 1823, came to the United States in 1848, landing in New York May 29th. In a few days he went to Salem, N. Y. In 1850 he married Matilda Townsend. In the summer of 1854 he moved to Davenport, Iowa; here on Dec. 9, 1854 his wife died. In Feb. 1856 he went to Farmington, Ill.; there he married Leah Davison, daughter of the late Eld. Samuel Davison. Eight children blessed this marriage, six of whom are still living. While in Farmington he professed religion and embraced the Sabbath, and in 1863 he became very, earnestly interested in Bible truth, renounced immortal soulism and became a firm believer in the kingdom of God upon earth. He remained firm in this belief to the end of his mortal life. He was taken sick with pneumonia fever Sabbath morning Dec. 6th and died on Sabbath morning at 3 o'clock Dec. 13, 1902, aged 76 years and 10 months. He leaves a wife and 7 children, one daughter by his first wife, 32 grandchildren and 6 great grand children. He came to Atchison county, Kansas, in 1865, located on a farm where he lived the remainder of his life. He was buried by the side of his two children, that died some years ago,in the family burial ground on Dec. 15, 1902. Great God I own thy sentence just, And natnre must decay, I yield my body to the dust, To dwell with fellow clay. Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave And trample on the tombs, My great Redeemer ever lives, My God, my Savior comes. The mighty conqueror shall appear. High on a royal seat And death, the last of all his fees, Lies vanquished at his feet. Then shall I see thy lovely face With strong immortal eyes, And feast upon thy wondrous grace, With pleasure and surprise. There is a calm for those who weep A rest for weary pilgrims found; They softly lie; they sweetly sleep Low in the ground. The storm that wrecks the wintry sky No more disturbs their deep repose Than summer evenings latest sigh That shuts the rose. I long to lay this painful head And aching heart beneath the soil To slumber in that dreamless bed From all my toil. Leah Robinson