Fulton-Chatham County GaArchives Obituaries.....Carter, Mrs. Cordelia July 6 1872
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Linda Blum-Barton http://www.genrecords.net/emailregistry/vols/00003.html#0000645 November 3, 2004, 11:51 pm

The Christian Index, July 11, 1872
MRS. GEORGIA MEREDITH-- MRS. CORDELIA CARTER.-- I have been deeply touched by 
two recent obituary announcements in Georgia.  I alluded to the death of Mrs. 
Georgia Meredith, which occurred on the 21st day of April, in the 68th year of 
her age; and to that of her daughter, Mrs. Cordelia Carter, wife of Dr. W. E. 
Carter,--which took place on the 6th instant, near Eufaula, Ala., in the 27th 
year of her age.  These ladies were, the one the wife and the other the 
daughter of Rev. Thomas Meredith, D.D., who was for many years an eminent 
minister of our Southern Zion.  He was, at one period pastor of the Baptist 
church at Savannah.  Subsequently, he removed to North Carolina, and published 
the Baptist Interpreter, and Biblical Recorder, wielding the pen editorial with 
an ability not exceeded by any of his Baptist contemporaries, and not surpassed 
by the most gifted of his successors.  The readers of the Index may be pleased 
to have a few lines commemorative of those who were so intimately connected 
with a minister who, in his day, was one of our best and wisest men.
I made the acquaintance of sister Meredith in the autumn of 1840, at her home 
in Raleigh, N.C., when on my way from Brown University to my first pastoral 
charge in Augusta.  She was then in the prime of life, strikingly beautiful and 
agreeable -- the fond wife and the happy mother in an interesting domestic 
circle.  We met occasionally in after years; but I had no particular 
association with her until I became her pastor in Atlanta, some eight years 
ago.  From that time until my removal from the State, it was my pleasure to see 
her frequently, and to know much of her Christian experience.  Her habitual 
walk was such as to afford the most ample assurance to her friends, that death, 
to her, has been an unspeakable gain.
Her piety was not of the buoyant type.  She saw so much in herself to condemn, 
was so oppressed by a sense of her utter unworthiness, that she was often 
afraid to call herself a child of God.  Self-distrust was perhaps,  the 
prevalent temper of her heart.  This, however, but made her look more earnestly 
to Jesus, and kept her very low at His feet.  When others around her would be 
expressing themselves with the utmost confidence, as respects their acceptance 
with God and the certainty of salvation, she would say, "I cannot speak so 
confidently.  God has not blessed me with such strong faith.  I can only say, I 
hope."
Notwithstanding these expressions of apprehension, her life was as earnest and 
devoted as was that of the most confident.  She was ready for every good work, 
and entered with a cheerful zeal upon every Christian duty.  Her place in the 
sanctuary was never vacant, unless providentially hindered; and when present, 
there was no more attentive nor appreciative hearer.  I remember her earnest 
black eye, as she used to fix it on the speaker in the beginning of the 
services, and maintain the closest attention to the end.  Her fine intellect 
was prompt in discerning whatever, in the way either of excellence or of 
imperfection existed in the sermon; and whilst her generous nature moved her to 
warm commendation of one, and her Christian charity repressed any condemnation 
of the other.  For twenty-two years she was called to lead the life of a widow--
to know by a poignant experience the sorrow of that word.  But amidst this and 
the manifold trials she endured, no murmuring word escaped her lips.  For the 
last few months of her life her health, which had been uniformly vigorous, 
became impaired.  She would then occasionally complain of being weary; and 
whilst submissive to her Father's will, she would express a desire to depart 
and be with Christ.  All who knew her, must feel that when she died, a "mother 
in Israel" fell asleep in Jesus.  
Not two years have passed since, at the bridal altar, I "solemnized" with the 
Word of God and with prayer, the plighted faith of the interesting daughter who 
has so quickly followed her mother to the tomb.  Young, beautiful, gifted, it 
was fondly hoped that God would spare her for many years to bless a devoted 
husband with her love, and to be useful in his church.  But it has pleased the 
Great Disposer to appoint otherwise.  The youngest daughter is the earliest 
summoned to join a beloved mother in the praises of the New Jerusalem.  Fond 
relatives would have detained her for their earthly comfort and joy; but the 
Saviour whom she served was saying, "Father, I will that she whom thou hast 
given me, be with me where I am."  His prayer is heard; and the young wife and 
mother unfolds an unseen wing, and passes to join her sainted parents, who have 
passed before her to the skies.
The remarkable vivacity which characterized our friend, might have induced 
those who knew her but casually, to think that she was defective in that 
dignity and sobriety which become Christian character.  But amidst this 
sprightliness of demeanor, there throbbed the heart of a true Christian woman.  
In common with multitudes of Southern ladies since the war, she was thrown upon 
her own resources, in a measure, for support.  But she bravely met the 
emergency, I have seen her, when summoned to stern duties, brushing away the 
tear which, for the moment, had filled the eye, and then giving herself 
vigorously to the conflict.  Superficial observers might have deemed her 
volatile; but nothing was farther from the truth.  She was at one time one of 
my Sunday school corps; and during the whole time of her connection with the 
school, no teacher was more punctual, more efficient as an instructor, and more 
successful in winning the love of her entire class.  Admired and courted in the 
social circle, and with qualities which fitted her to adorn the parlor, she 
would cheerfully relinquish the pleasures of society for the self-denying 
ministries of the sick chamber.  I have seen her weeping with strangers in the 
house of mourning, after she had done everything in her power to "smooth the 
rugged pathway to the tomb."  But I must stop. My heart prompts me to say more, 
as I know that much remains to be said.  May her affecting decease reach the 
hearts of those out of Christ, for whom she prayed,, and whom she so tenderly 
loved.  May the Merciful Comforter heal the wounds which have been made in the 
hearts which cherished her.  
W. T. B.     Baltimore, June 20th, 1872.


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