The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1897-04-30
whyG A short question, but a whole


erucifxion OF agony in it. Why7
Shadow on the graves of good men and
women who seemed to die before thei-
wor5 was done. Shadow on all the
graves of children because we ask our
selves why SO beautiful a craft launched
at all if it was to be wrecked one mile
outside of the harbor? But what did
Mary Magdalene have to do in order to
get more light on that grave. She had
only to wait. After awhile the Easter
sun rolled up, and the whole place was
flooded with light. What have you
and to do in order to get more light
on our own graves and light upon the
graves of our dear loved ones? Only to
wait.
Charles v. of Spain with his servants
and torches went down into the vault
of the metropolis where his ancestors
were buried, and went deeper, further
on, until he came to cross around
which were arranged the caskets of his
ancestors. He also found a casket con-
tanning the body of one of his own
family. He had that casket opened,
and there by embalmer's art he tUr1d
that the body was as perfect as 1Sye1rs
before when it was entombed. But Un-
der the exploration his body and mind
perished. Oh, my friends, do not let
US morbidly struggle with the shad-
ows of the sepulcher. What are we
to do? Wait. 1t is not the evening
twilight that gets darker and dark
er. 1t is the morning twilight that
gets brighter and brighter into the per-
feet day. l preach it to-day. Sunrise
over Pere lie Chaise, sunrise over Grey
friars churchyard, sunrise over Green
wood, over Woodlawn, over Laurel
Hill, over Mount Auburn, over Con-
gressional burying ground, sunrise over
every country graveyard, sunrise over
the catacombs, sunrise over the
sarcophagi where the ships be buried.
Half-past five o'clock among the tombs
now, but soon to be the MONDAY of ex-
planation and beatitude. 1t was in
the morning twilight that Mary Magda-
lene mistook Christ for gardener.
Another thing the world and the
church have not observed; that is.
Christ's pathentic credentials. How
do you know it was not a gardener?
His garments said He was gardener.
The flakes of the upturned earth scat
tered upon His garments said He was
a gardener. How do you know He was
not a gardener? Ahl Before Easter
had gone by He gave to some of His
disciples His three credentials. He
showed them His hands and His side.
Three paragraphs written in rigid or
depressed letters. A scar in the right
palm, a scar in the left palm, a scar
amid the ribs-scars, scars. That is
the way they knew Him. That is the
way you and 1 will know Him.
There is one more thing that tho
world and the church have not noticed
in this resurrection of Christ, and that
is that Christ from Friday to Sabbath
was lifeless in a hot climate, where
sanitary prudence demanded that
burial take place the same day as death,
and where there was no ice to retard
dissolution. Yet, after three days
He comes up so healthful, so robust,
and so rubicund Mary Magdalene takes
Him for a gardener. Not supposing
Him to be an invalid from a hospital,
not supposing Him to be corpse from
the tomt, but supposing Him to be the
gardener. Healthful by the breath of
the upturned sod, and by perpetual
life in the sunshine.
After Christs interment every cellu-
lar tissue broke down, and nerve, and
artery, and brain, were physiological
wreck, and yet He comes up swarthy,
rubicund, and well. When / see after
such mortuary silence such radiant ap-
pearance, that settles it that what
ever should become of the bodies of
our Christian dead, they are go
ing to come up, the nerves restrung,
the optic nerve illuminated, the ear
drum a-vibrate, the whole body lifted
up without its weakness and worldly
uses for which there is no resurrection.
Come, is it not almost time for us to &c
out to meet our terminated dead? Can
you not hear the lifting of the rusted
latch2
Oh, the glorious thought, the glo-
rious consolation of this subject when
l find Christ coming up without any
of the decorations, for you must re-
member He was lacerated and wound
ed fearfully in the crucifixion- g
up without one. What does that make
me think? That the grave will get
nothing of us except our wounds
and imperfections. Christ went
into the grave exhausted and
bloodless. All the currents of His
life had poured out from His
wounds. He had lived life of trouble,
sorrow and privation, and then He died
a lingering death. His entire body
hung on four spikes. No invalid of &c
years suffering ever went into the
grave so white and CHASTITY and broken
down as Christ, and yet here He comes
up so rubicund and robust she supposed
Him to be the gardener.
Ahl all the side-aches, and the head
aches, and the backaches, and the leg
aches, and the heart-aches we will
leave where Christ left His. The ear
will come up without its heaviness. the
eye will come up without its dimness,
the lungs will come up without oppress-
ed respiration. Oh, what races we will
run when we become immortal ath-
letesI Oh, what circuits we will take
when all earthly imperfections sub
tracted and all celestial velocities add
ed we shall set up our residence in
that city which, though vaster than all
the cities of this world, shall never
have one obsequy!
Standing this morning round the
shattered masonry of our Lords tomb,
l point you to a world without hearse,
without mufied drum, without tum-
ulus, without catafalque, and with
out tear. Amid all the cathedrals
of the blessed no longer the Dead
March of Saul, but whole iberetti OF
Hallelujah chorus. Oh, put trumpet to
lip and finger to key, and loving fore
head against the bosom of a risen
Christ. Hallelujah amen. Hallelujah,
anaanf