Ulysses Grant McKinney

Source: Findagrave Son of Absolom McKinney and Ann Elizabeth Randeberger; husband of Mary Ellen Evans.

Ulysses Grant McKinney, son of Absolom and Ann Elizabeth McKinney, was born July 13, 1863, and passed away in the Ryan Hospital at Mountain Grove , June 12, 1945. Age 81 years, 10 months and 11 days.

He was married to Mary Ella Evans , November 3, 1889. She preceded him in death on March 29, 1940. Surviving are seven children, May Sails, Mountain Grove; Faye Casebeer, Bendavis; Audrey Scott, Wichita, Kansas; Ray McKinney, Bucyrus; Beulah Hammer, Henry W. McKinney, and Chas. E. McKinney of Plato, Mo.; two sisters, Anna Harris and Mary Grose; one brother, Bill, and twelve grandchildren.

He was converted and baptised about 24 years ago.

Graveside services were conducted Wednesday, June 14, at Concord cemetery, near Upton, with Rev. Jesse Baker officiating, and Barber Funeral Directors, of Mountain Grove, in charge.

As we sorrow, we realize that the dearest earthly ties must be broken and all humanity must pass through the Valley of Death unaccompanied by human hands. But we grieve not as those without hope, but look away from this life of sorrow and trouble to Him who said, "In My Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you, and if I go and prepare a place for you I will come again and receive you unto Myself, that where I am, there ye may be also."

We know he is at rest and while we sorrow, we do not know when we too may be called home. We only know that he is gone, and that the same relentless tide that bore him from us still glides on and we who mourn still with it glide.

"There is a mystic borderland that lies just past the limits of our workday world, and it is peopled with the ones we met and loved, a day, a week, a month, a year; and parted from with aching hearts. Yet know that through the distance we must loose the hold of hand with hand, and only clasp the thread of memory. But still so close we feel this land; so sure we are that those same hearts are true, than when in waking dreams there comes a call that sets the thread of memory aglow.

We know that just by stretching out the hand, in written word of love or book or flower, the waiting hand will clasp our own once more across the silence in the same old way." -- Contributed

Source: Houston Herald, June 21, 1945, p.4