Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1882-01-28

A lady gave me daisies. which planted,
And when they bloomed the gross and common
air,
BY the sweet memory of her beauty haunted.
To me grew more ethereal and rare:
breathed as in some tropic realm enchanted,
And all things round, like her, were fresh and
fair W. L SHoxMAKHR.
CTS DEATH DREADFULr,
a Funeral Address BY Robert G. Ingor-
soil.
Prom the Christian Advocate.
1t is said OF great tragedan, that when one
OF his supporters became suddenly i'll it was
proposed to substitute for him well-known
comedian. mo, said the master; 81 will not
have him. He is so saturated with comedy
that the sight of his face on the stage would
turn the tragedy into farce" With the echo
of the laughter at God, the Bible, and religion,
which his wit and ribaldry have evoked from IT.
reverent crowds still reverberating in almost
every city in the land. the jester, laying aside
for the nOnce his cap and bells, appears in the
role of comforter of the bereaved. 1t was at
the funeral of bright little boy in Washington.
ID. C., and at the request of his father 1.-THE
scene, says the Washington Post, twas in
tensely dramatic Col. Ingersoll was unpro-
tected by either hat or umbrella, and his nyOca-
ton thrilled his hearers with awe" Whom did
ne invoke! Is this a new use of the work to
signify an address to the people? Surely, it
cannot be said of him. 'Behold, he prayeth."
The address on this occasion has been pub
llshed and we see no reason why we should not
reproduce it here. 1t is remarkable for what it
says, and for what it does not say and for the
high order of its language. We do not hesitate
to say that in simplicity. beauty and purity of
style, it would be difficult for acknowledged
masters of English to excel it.
My Friends: know how vain 1t is to gld
nd vat yxicl TO fol,o
every grave its fear. Here in this world, where
life and death are equal kings, all should be brave
future has been filled with fear, stained and pol
luted by the heartless past. From the wondrous
tree of life the buds and blossoms fall with
the patrisrchs and babes sleep side by side
Why should we fear that which will come to all
taat Is, We we do not which
say that death Is not good. We do not know
whether the grave is the end of this life or the
somewhere else a dawn Neither can we tell
which is the more ortunate-the child dying in its
mothers arms before its lips have learned to form
WORD, or he who Journeys all the length or LIES
uneven road, painfully taking the last slow steps
with staff and crutch.
Every cradle asks us sWhence?" and every coffin
"Whither?" The poor barbarian. weeping above
his dead, can answer these questions as inteli-
gently and satisfactorily as the rObed priest of the
the one IS just as cOnSOling as the learned and
unmeaning words OF the other. No man, standing
where the horizon OF a life has touched grave,
has any right to prophesy future filled with pain
and tears 1t may be that death gives all there is
OF worth to life. If those we press and strain
hearts could never die perhaps that
common fate treads from out the paths between
our hearts the weeds Of selfishneSs and hate, and
Than have eternal life where love Is not. Another
lire Is naught, unless we know and love again the
ones Who love us here.
They who stand with breaking hearts around this
ittle grave need have no fear. The larger and the
nober faith in all that Is and is be- tells us that
death, even at its worst, is only perfect rest We
know that through the common wants OF ltfe-the
needs and duties OF each hour-their grief will
lessen day by day, until at last this grave will be
There is for them this consolation: The dead do
not suffer If they live again, their lives will
surely be as good as ours. We have no fear. We
are all children OF the same mother, and the same
fate awaits us all. we, too, have our religion
and it is this: Help FOR the living-hope Ior the
grief with words, yet avows his desire " to take
from every grave its fear" A laudable desire.
for
One question more than others all
From thoughtful minds imDlOreS reply:
1t Is as breathed from star and pau,
what fate awaits us when we die?
Job called death the 'king of terrors:" Ars-
totle, the terrible Of terribles" 1t has been {.
the one black. impenctrabc shadow over every
home and over every human being.
All should be brave enough to meet what all
the dead have met" They have indeed. met
it; but how? 'AH that a man hath will he
give for his life " has been true of men in gen
eral Though every passion has overcome the
fear of death so long as the fact was contingent,
when the dread summons" came the heart
trembled.
''Why should we fear that which will come to
ali that is!" 1t has never been found that the
certainty that there is no escape for others
diminishes fear.
at may besthat death gives all there is of
worth to life" Perhaps, but not for the strange
reason that 'if those we press and strain against
our hearts could never die, perhaps that love
would wither from the earth.''
'AnOther life is naught unless we know and
love again the ones who love us here" Most
true: and yet moment before the same lps had
said, We do not know whether the grave is the
end of this life. or the door of another"
The hnal words OF consolation are that ''the
larger and the nober faith in all that is. and is
to be- tells us, that death. even at it's worst is
only perfect rest; grief will lessen day by day;''
The dead do not suffer. If they live again.
their lives will surely be as good as ours
Whence came to him the right to say surely of
anything: 1t is words. words, words"
His religion is ''Help for the lving-Hope for
the dead" Yet his great powers Of popular
speech have been employed in robbing the liv-
ing OF the only unfaling spring of persevering
virtue, and the only foundation of hope forthe
dead. In all these beautiful words nothing is
said, because he who uttered them had nothing
to say. 1t was, indeed, gliding grief with
words. In their simplest form the consultations
he offered were: Why should we fear what all
have to endure? We know nothing about the
future. Your grief will grow less day by day.
These are the words of a man without God. |
and without hope in the world' Truly ''mis-
cradle comforter. physician of no value"
There WAS one who said ''Though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod
and thy staff they comfort me-" There stood
One among men who said: .'Suffer little chill |
dren. and forbid them not. to come unto Me- |
for of such is the kingdom of heaven" And |
again; I'm My fathers house there are many