The herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1893-1900, 1895-11-17

NV heart swslls within me tonight;
JOY and sorrow are intermixed. I have
just visited the Gem etery this afternoon.
dead, and view the silent tombs and
pace 10 and fro through tho narrow
walks. Ills beautiful to behold the
shrubbery with its branches, thick and
hanging with clusters of vines, with
birds twitting here and there. singin &
their sweet song DER departed souls.
Such is truly a picture, not alone OF love-
illness, but of veneratio4 and praise. Then
to behold tho handiwork of some
mother epaulet, or to observe the fresh
watered lilies, or wreath of flowers LAID
carefully at tho headstone BY some sis
ter. 1t betokens a deep sense of faithful
ness and love, to see the pot.plant flow
ers or to observv the handprints OF the
bereaved who pay regular visits to this
resting place of a loved one.
Then the crosses OF every shape, size
and ornament, with touching inscrip-
vary ami while they make tragic the
death of our Lord they call to mind his
victory over death and the resurrection;
for around the cross centers the attraction
of every Christian foIlower-in that the
cross once hated and despised is now the
emblem of all christendom.
Many the epitaphs that greet my eyes.
and familiar names catch my vision
names that have gone down in history
and are borne by the streets anu avenues
Of our city. Old and young lie side by
side. and strange that the shortcut
graves--those that wers snatched away in
youth-outnumbe Der those of mature age.
vegetation has shut awav the appear
ance of grave, or where the careless
nave trodden on deaths walk, yet vistas
of glory, signs of life and immortality
hang around the silent dead.
Hare am reminded OF scene which
occurred some niteen years ago when l
hung on to the lids of my mothers
coffin and wept as only child could
weep. There saw her laid beneath the
sod, and the spot is dear, for resurrection
thoughts linger there, ana sacred are the
memories that recall the spot.
climb up further on the knob OF the
hill, near the huge modelled cross, that
stands like a sentinel watch over so many
sleeping subjects. | view the city below
in the throes OF business life and activ-
ity. think what a strange contrast 10
ife unto death. Then the ravages OF sin,
OF darkness and disaster rise up UoIoro
me, and reason if life after all is but
weary and continual struggle, then why
should we fear to die? Can we meet death
as the ons who echoed back:
Il would not live always-I ask not to
stay
Where storm after storm rises dark Ger
the day."
But then these are not dead, but Sleep
ing. Their names are registered on life's
page. Their deeds are yet living: their
influence is immortal. and as was said in
a memorial of departed hero:
"In the black silence of the narrow
tomb,
The clay may rest which wrapped his
human birth,
But all unconquered by that silent doom.
The spirit of his thoughts shall walk the
earth
In glory and in light"
the cemetery. after all. is but the best
abode OF our bodies. which await the
resurrection morn--and as the poet sung:
"There is no death; the stars go down
70 rise upon some fairer shore;
A bright in heaven jewel crown,
We'll shine forever mora"
L, P. A.