GEORGE P. HIGGINS
Apr. 7, 1849,
AE. 22 ys. And 8 ms
My flesh shall slumber in the ground,
Till the last trumpet’s joyful sound;
Then burst its chains with sweet surprise,
And in my Savior’s image rise.
The broken white marble square-top tablet for George Higgins is laid on its back in pieces in the Bar Harbor, Maine, Village Cemetery. The vivid imagery of his gravestone poem describes his death as sleep, waiting to wake up to the call of Gabriel’s trumpet the day of the Resurrection when he will “burst” from the chains of death, his body whole again in Heaven.