The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1897-11-26
lived long and stormy lie; be died a

- ~ - A'AA "hN SWIM A-ANf ~ 1890 -
hero.
The summons came to him in the tri-
umphant hour of the State, when the
Centennial bells were ringing out the
old century and ringing in the new. In
the glorious nOuntide of Tennessee's
joyful Jubilee, when the trumpets of
peace were pouring out the soul of
music on the summer air, he heard the
solemn call of another trumpet, which
drowned all the melodies of this world.
He saw the shadow of an invisible wing
sweep acro.s his pillow, paliOr came
over his face, his heart forgot to beat,
there was only a gasp sigh, whts-
pered IL am tired" and tired eyelids
were drawn like purple curtains over
tired ewes tired lips were closed for
ever: tired hands were folded on 4 mo-
tionlesS breast The mystery of life
was yelled in the mystery of death!
What is life? What is death? To
day we hear a bird singing in the tree
top; they tell us that is life. TO-mOr-
row the bird lies cold aud stiff at the
root of the tree. / will sing its song
no more. They tell us that is death. \
babe is born into the world. 1t opens
its glad ewes to the light of day and
smiles in the face of its loving mother.
They tell us that Is life. The child
wanders from the cradle into the sweet
fairvland of youth aud drea ms among
its flowers. But soon youth wakes into
manhood and his soul is atire with am
bitiOn. He PUSHES into the struggles of
real life and wins his wav from the log
cabin to the gubernatorial chair. The
! lightnings begin to leap from the
gathering clouds Of war; the live thun-
ders begin to fall around him. but he
stands like a lion at his post, and when
the dreadful shock at Shiloh comes,
where the flowers of Tennessee are rush
| ing to glory and the grave, through the
rifted smoke see him kneeling on the
| bloody field with the peerless Albert
! Sidney Johnson dying in his arms.
At last his dag goes down in blood
country, but the clouds soon clear away
and he returns in triumph, to be clothed
! by the people with greater power than
ever before, and to sit like an I'M
crowned king in the highest council of
the nation, until his raven locks turn
white as snow.
But the scene shifts again, and as we
are called from our revelrv to stand
a ound the coffin of our matchless sena-
| tor, there are tear stains on the cheeks
of merriment and mourning mufiles
mrth. They tell us that is death!
The song of the bird is the soul of
melody and the laughter of the child is
the melody of the soul. The joys of
youth are the blossoms of hope man
hood gathers the golden fruits. But
death robs the bird of its song and
steals laug liter from the lips of child
hood. Death plucks the blossoms of
youth and turns the golden fruits Of
manhood to ashes on the lips of age.
Poor bird, is there no brighter cline,
where thy sweet spirit shall sing for
| to- - 1tfaO oh ig
there no better world, where thy soul
shall wake and smile in the face Of God?
Poor old tired man, is it all of life to
live? Is it all of death to die? Is there
not a heaven where thy tottering age
shall find immortal youth and where
immortal life shall glorify thy face? 1t
must be so; it must be so.
"a solemn murmur in the soul tells of a
world to be,
AS travellers hear the pillows roll be-
fore they reach the sea-"
There must be God. We look up
through the telescope into the blue in
finite and catch glimpses of his glory
We see millions of suns flaming like
archangels on the frontier of stellar
space. And still beyond we see on ten
thousand fields of light, crowns and
shields and spiral wreaths of stars,
islands and continents OF suns floating
on boundless opal seas. And are there
no worlds like ours wheeling around
those suns? Are there no eyes but ours
to see those floods of light? Are there
no sails on those faraway summer seas?
No wings to cleave that crystal air?
Surely there can not be universe OF
suns without universe of worlds, and
reason teaches It's that there can not be
a universe of worlds desolate of life.
We turn from the telescope and look
down through the microscope, and it
reveals in a single drop of water a tiny
world teeming with animal life, with
forms as perfect as the human body,
! yet invisible to the naked eye. 1t can
not be denied that some power beyond
this world created them. We know
that some power beyond this world
created us We know that they must
perish and that we must die, and we
know that the power which created
them and us and the stars above us lives
on forever
Therefore, somewhere beyond thi:
, world there is infinite power and eternal
life. Let us hope that the Christ who
whispered peace" to the troubled
waters of Galilee has whispered "Peace'
to the troubled soul of our departed
senator, and that his tired eyes have
opened to the light of blissful immor
tally.