The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1873-04-17
GOOD FRIDAY.


certain well-to-do man who found his
income so secure, his house so comfor ta-
BILE, his barns so we'll filed, that he began
| to look upon the whole affair, both master
and possessions, as the one thing meant
to be permanent in this shifting world.
| Soul" he said, in jovial humor one
night, to the Something out of sight in
side of his healthy body, costly clothes,
stately dwelling and estate" Soul, let
Us eat, drink, and be merry" This live
creature, at least, he was sure of. Body
and land and houses, being dead matter
might wear out, but that which had
earned and ruled them all would stay.
When dawn came, the old record goes on
to state, the morning sun found fields
and focks unaltered. There, too, were
| the comfortable house and the rich
clothes unchanged. Even the body,
which had served its master so long, was
there ready to do his bidding. But the
soul had gone and never sent message
back to say whittier. For six thousand
years" says Schiller, the dead has been
| going from US, and not one hath returned
to bring us tidings.
Certainly, this well-to-do man did not
belong to these days. Whatever else our
crimes, we are not Indifferent. We all
of US take a keen interest in that un-
known country to which each of us must
go some day on an inexorable journey
|
ing that we have needed here. When
we go into strange countries now, we can
make a place for ourselves with our
money or acquintances; even good
clothes are of use. But what baggage or
letters of credit can we take with us
there2 even the fair face or bodily
graces which have covered up so much
of our real selves must be left be-
hind. To think of the dreadful naked
ness of it To whom shall we talk of
the matters which have always filled our
lives until an hour-fve minutes before
Who will care there for the next cleo
tion, or the price of stocks in the market !?
Who will ask for the last joke or bit of
gossip2 Who will know of the fashions
or of the last new book2 Things that
have filed our hands and brain for our
whole lives will have vanished from us
like breath, and hands and brain have
gone with theml If we could but take
bit of hair from the child the.t Law in
our bosom if we could but feel the kiss
which the one dearest to us left on our
closed eyes But the child will grow UP
and forget US and the kiss and the dead
eyes will be together in the grove far
below; and what will be left tJ US? Who
can answer-what
Ne man. however silly, is Indifferent to
this end of the history for each of us
Men nowadays do not talk much about
death, or heaven, or hell Why should
they Have any returned to bring them
tldingsf But they stand peering, rich
ana poor, booP and scholar, alike at the
closed gate, withsthe question of the old
Chaldean prophet on their lips. & When
a man dieth shall he live again? He
giveth up the ghost, and where is he r.
Why do the poor crowd to the funerals ?
Why do hosts of unimagina.iVe peo-
pie accept table rappings and me-
diums? Why is death, from the lone
ly murder by midnight to the opening of
the great jaws of the sea and the engulf-
ing of hundreds in moment, the one
subject which renews in us all, day by
day, the same breathless, morbid inter
est2 Not, surely, that the article of
death, livid lips, and CHASING eyes are a
rare show that attracts any man. 1t is
the secret beyond; the hope that, hating
in the opened darkness, ON the verge Of
the gulf, the departing soul may let fall
some hint of that which it sees ON the
other side, and which it will never come
back to tell to us. Job, even, in the first
morning Of time, while the world was vet
young and fresh, cried out with impotent
despair against this "land of darkness" !"
The poor Indian in Brazil goes out at
night into the forest to try to learn the
song of the bird which he fancies has
come nom the spirit world with mes
tS0SO rum LIS OCdN. Inc WOuldn whose
child died here to-day knows only the
old, unalterable longing of that savage
and OF that man whom God and Set an
put to trial, when she kisses her be- ov'e
icy lips, and they do not move aclain 10
hers. "
Why, but for this reason is ,o-dov se+
apart from all others2 The 20 have besr
countless deaths as tragic IN c;rcnmstanc
as that OF the Savior. So unbroken kas
been mans progress. to the crave the +be
worlds air has been but the breat'a of the
dying In every war or pestilence thou
sahas are swept into the Grave Whv
snou40 not only church es be open but
business be made to b.alt in American
cities to-day, because eighteen centuries
ago the SON of a Jewish carpenter
was 5rucified between two thieves on a
: Ilttle hill outside of Jerusalem? Why
but because with a Divine strength in
l his mans body he went out, into the
: dark unknown to solve the great secret
], for us-to bring us tidingsP All the
t miracles of the Savior, all of his teach
Y ings, would not have won the worlds be-
/. lief in Him but for that last voluntary
Y struggle with its enemy. We watch Him
i going down into the final abyss of silence
and darkness, and rejoice that He goes
1 as man and not as q God He yearns
!, as we would do for human sympathy.
: Gould ye not watch with me one hour p
: His last tender thought is for His moth