Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1888-04-13


night you baptize them In the name of
the shower, the baptism VIII not be to
them saving ordinance. They have
been fatally wounded with the knife
that cut them. They are bleeding
their life away; they are dying now.
The fragrance IN the air is their depart
ing and ascending spirits.
Oh, yes; flowers are almost human
BOtanists tell us that flowers breathe.
they take nOurishment, they eat. they
drink. They are sensitive. They have
their likes and dislikes. They sleep,
they wake. They live In families.
They have their ancestors and the de-
scendants, their birth, their burial,
their cradle, their grave. The zephyr
rocks the one. the storm digs the trench
for the other.
The cOwslip must leave its gold, the
lily must leave its silver, the rose must
leave its diamond necklace of morning
dew. Dust to dust. So we come up.
we prosper, we spread abroad, we die,
as the hOWer-as the flower!
Change and decay on all around I see;
U, Thou, who changest not, abide with me!
Flowers also afford mighty SYMBOL
ism of Christ, who compared Himself
to the ancient queen, the lily, and the
modern queen, the rose, when he said ::
Il am the rose Of Sharon and the lily
of the valley" RedOlent like the one.
humble like the other. Like both, ap-
prOpriate for the sad who want sympa-
thizers, and for the rejoicing who want
banqueters. lowering over the mar
riage ceremony like a wedding bell, or
folded like a chaplet on the pulseIess
heart of the dead.
Oh, Christ! let the perfume of Thy
name be waited all around the earth
lily and rose, lily and rOse-until the
wilderness crimson into a garden, and
the round earth turn into one green bud
of immortal beauty laid against the
warm heart of God. Snatch down from
the worlds banners eagle and lion, and
put on lily and rose, lily and rose.
But, my friends, flowers have no
grander use than when on Easter
morning we celebrate the termination
of Christ from the catacOmbs. All the
flowers of today spell resurrection.
There is not a nook or corner in all the
building but is touched with the
incense. The women carried spices to
the tomb of Christ, and they dropped
spices all around about the tomb, and
from those spices have grown all the
flowers of Easter morn. The two
whiterObed angels that hurled the
stone away from the door of the tomb,
hurled it with such violence down the
hill that it crashed in the door of the
worlds sepulchre, and millions of the
stark and dead shall come forth.
However Iabyrinthian the mausoleum,
however costly the sarcOphagus, how
ever INTELLECTUALLY grand the NEGRO
polls, however beautifully parterred the
family grounds, we waut them all
broken up by the Lord of the resurrec-
ton. The forms that we laid away with
our broken hearts must rise again.
Father and mOther-they must come
out. Husband and wife-they must
come out. Brothers and sisters-they
must come out. Our darling children
they must come out. The eyes that
with trembling fingers we closed must
open in the lustre of resurrection morn.
The arms that we folded in death must
Join ours in embrace of reunion. The
beloved voice that was hushed must be
returned. The beloved form must
come up without its / 1rmities, with
out its fatigues-it must come up.
Oh, how. long it seems for some of
you. Waiting waiting for the resur-
rectiOn. How long how long! Imake
for your broken hearts today a cool, soft
bandage of Easter lilies. Last night
we had come In the mails a beautiful
Easter card, on the top of it a represen-
tatiOn of that exquisite flower called
the trumpet creeper," and under it
the inscription: "The trumpet shall
sound, and the dead shall be raised.
L comfort you this day with the thought
Of resurrection.
When Lord Nelson was buried in st.
Pauls cathedral in London, the heart
of all England was stirred. The pro-
cessiOn passed on amid the sObbing of
a nation. There were thirty trumpet
ers stationed at the door of the cathe-
dral, with instruments of music in
hand, waiting for the signal and when
the illustriOus dead arrived at the gates
of st. Pauls cathedral, these thirty
trumpeters gave one united blast, and
then all was silent. Yet the trumpets
did not wake the dead. He slept right
on.
But have to tell you, what thirty
trumpeters could not do for one man,
one trumpeter viii do for all nations.
The ages have rolled on, and the clock
Of the worlds destiny strikes 8, 10, Il,
u, and time shall be no longer!
Behold the archangel lowering. He
takes the trumpet, points it this
way, puts its lips to his lips, and then
blows one long, loud, terrific, thunder
Gus. reverberating and resurrectiOnary
blast. LOOkl Look They risel
The dead! The dead! Some coming
forth from the family vault Some
from the city cemetery. Some from
the country graveyard. Here a spirit
is joined to its body, and there another
spirit is joined to another body, and
millions Of departed spirits are assort-