Dawn P. Ware, 77, Independence, died Tuesday, Jan. 23, 2001, at her home.
Mrs. Ware was born July 27, 1923, in Independence and was a lifelong area resident. She was a member of the Joy Christian Center in Independence and the National Library of Poetry. She had been a serious writer of poetry since 1960, and was a gifted artist and enjoyed creating handcrafts, landscaping and culinary creations. She was preceded in death by her husband, of 57 years, Dwain Ware, in 1997.
Her survivors include two sons, Stephen Ware and Conrad Ware, one daughter, Sylvia Jennings, one sister, Mary Jane Brown, seven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren, all of Independence.
A memorial service will be held at 7 p.m. Friday at New Salem Funeral Home; cremation. The family suggests contributions to the Dawn P. Ware Memorial Fund, 203 N. Main St., Independence, Mo. 64050.
Mighty Love – Poem by Dawn P. Ware
He wasn’t afraid, His life to Lay down,
Though pain for awhile was His dread.
There was no other way, to win the crown,
The heir, must be declared dead.
They lashed His back till His flesh did yield
His broken body was bloody torn.
By His torturous stripes, our bodies He healed
His victory over the flesh was born.
He choose, to hang on the agony tree,
For hours, His prospect was dim.
His precious blood, He shed for me,
And for all who would trust in Him.
Then willingly, He gave up the Ghost,
And the rest, of our battle, He’d win,
For yet He must go, and bring back the host
That the grave, had held fast, within.
His body, they laid away on a stone.
His soul escaped, but they didn’t know,
To wage war with satan, down there alone,
Conquer death, become the graves last foe,
They guarded well, what was left of Him there.
Surely they knew, He couldn’t get free,
But they knew not of His Spirits warfare,
For into hells depths, they could not see.
His battle won, in that pit of shame,
From darkness, He set captives free.
Then back to a body scarred, He came,
Out from a bouldered tomb, for all to see.
We’ve been delivered by this man alone,
From ages of filthy, sins deceit.
His mighty love chose torture to atone,
And make His victory, over sin complete.
Hallelujah! What joy! What mighty love!
What a sacrifice! By one man alone!
The very Son of God from Glory above!
Made us to sit with Him on a Heavenly throne
