Obituary notice from Southern Christian Advocate, Vol 41 #36 pg 7 col 2 November 9, 1878,
from the Sandor Teszler Library of Wofford College:
Bryant Lane was born in Marion County, S C., January 13, 1801, and died September 11th 1878.
He was married, December 18th, 1827, to Henrietta Dew, with whom he lived in happy union for little
more than half a century. By industry and economy he reared a large family in comfort,
and lived to see his children reach years of maturity and enter the service of God. Soon
after his marriage, he settled near Little Bluff, on Pee Dee River, which was then a sparely
settled section of country, with but little preaching for miles around. Morals and religion
were at a low ebb, and demoralizing influences were strong and widespread. In the year 1840,
he was converted, under the ministry of Rev W A McSwain, by whom he was baptized and received
into the church. There being, however, no Methodist Church near at the time, a society of
four or five members was formed, which met and worshipped at an old store house at Kirby's
Cross Roads; this was the nucleus around which the present Bethesda Church has grown.
He was a warm friend and liberal supporter of the church, and though remarkably quiet
and retiring in his habits---never seeking prominence or position in the church---he was
yet as true to his Christian principles as the needle to the pole. There was a quiet beauty
about his Christian life well calculated to "Allure to brighter worlds, and lead the way."
The uniform and steady light of his Christian example did much to elevate the moral tone
of the community in which he lived, and it will be long before the memory and influences of
"Uncle Bryant" are forgotten.
His end was perfect peace. During his last illness he seemed to enjoy uninterrupted
communion with God. Gathering the members of his family around his bed, he spoke of God's love
and mercy until his happy soul was so filled with joy that he would try, though in extreme
weakness, to shout the praise of God. When so prostrated as no longer to recognise friend,
pastor, or child, I leaned over him and said, "Brother Bryant, do you know me?" He replied,
in a whisper, "No; I have forgotten everything." I said, "You know Jesus?" With a peculiar
animation of countenance and brightness of eye, he replied with emphasis, "Yes." Thus he
died in hope of a blessed immorality.