The Worcester spy. [volume] (Worcester, Mass.) 1898-1904, 1899-12-04

| the curtain-all on account of riot
ously disposed steam pipe. 1 assure
J you that's all there is to the story
secretary, Bro. Fitzpatrick, being the
J Bro. Charles A. Parker, also in the
prime of life, a broadminded, big
! hearted man. Who could know him
and forget him quickly? He was a
model citizen. a faithful friend, low
! ing husband and kind father. He bore
/ all his sorrows ana troubles like a man,
| like an Elk.
J Bro. John ]. Morgan had not arrived
at the prime of life. He was as genial
as the summer sunshine, with loving
wl1e and children. He was happy,
cheerful and patient.
Our brothers are gone to their eter
nal reward, but their names are en-
graVed on the tablets of love and
memory.
! They will meet us in the earthly lodge
TO more but we will continue to cher
| ish their memories and their virtues.
! The orchestra at the close of Mr..
Marbles address played as a selection
! new flower song Occurs ct teurS.
! DR.. Harris under escort of Esquire
Hurley then came forward to deliver
the memorial address which was in his
| best style. Dr. Harris is an eloquent
speaker at all times, but last night he
surpassed himself. Seldom has such
an address as his been heard at the
| lodge of sorrow. 1 follows in full:
Memorial address before B. 0. P.
! Elks Worcester Theatre, Sunday eve
| ming, December Sd, 1893.
Exalted Ruler, Brother Elks and Friends
| Il know not why the month of December,
| with its barren world and Wlntry chill,
was selected by our fraternity as me
SORROW" unless il is the eleven o'clock of
| the year. 1t is well that we have one
! Sunday evening set apart for special re-
| membrance, that we may py solemn serN-
! ice think of our absent brothers, VINO are
! bound to US by an immortal chain when
/ death cannot sever. They went away from
, unfinished tasks. Most men die with
| their plans incomplete. They see much to
| be done, much they hope TO do, but death
| overtakes them and it is mostly LETT I'M
! done. Death would be an lgnoble sleep
| If there was no unfolding again of useful
hands, no awaking of loving hearts. Who
| of us could bear to see our friends lie
| down to their last slumber and not feel
| sure that their wisdom of experience
| acuteness of intellect, kindness Of afIec-
| ton and wit of speech-al, in short, that
| makes them dear to u.s. would be put to
| exc rcise again in a more congenial cline
| and on a level above earth and sense?
| Life here, we say, must have purpose,
and where this purpose is interrupted 1t
| must be resumed hereafter. If there is
| any moral order in death (and who can
doubt there Isl, for If II has no order it
,ecan have no author; then there must be
an eternal unity Between the present and
! the future, and this scene and the next
must be taken as a whole. To Illustrate:
| The son of uncommon gifts and graces
| dies when his foot is just upon the threSh-
! hold of manly enterprise, while the fire of
noble aspiration is kindling in his eye,
while purposes of usefulness are swelling
in his breast, while parents and friends
look upon him with delight and pride. 1t
! seemed as though he was born to be a
! leader among men, and yet he died.
| Could this have been if there were no
other sphere for the aspiring mind to
grow in? For the gifted powers to work
! in? Can it be that such fine energies, so
well suited for great actions, shall never
be permitted to act? Can it be that
thought, trained to manifest itself in all
beautiful expression, shall never be al
lowed to speak? Can it be that earnest
! virtue, just bursting into noble ambition
and worthy manhood, shall be smothered
! and suppressed, never to expand in gen
erous toll and lovely graces? Can it be
that any nigh aim snail be denied a
! sphere wherein TO unfold itself? No! The
soul must live so long as it can grow.
Not cessation, but progress is the law.
| How terrible would such an offering be
upon the altar of death if it were the end
| ing of a career so magniflcently COM
menced! But 1t is not the end. The soul
i itself expects the quickening and enlarg-
implies a spiritual world corresponding
thereto Life today leads on the wish for
sire for immortality Men desire life;
they desire life that shall never end. The
desire of life is considered the strongest of
human desire. 1t is universal. 1t is be-
| lieved to be an instructive desire in the
| human heart. If it is admitted that the
| desire for life is one which the author of
our nature has implanted, it must be adj
| mitted also that 1t is one which He will
| not disappoint What other native desire
fails of opportunity for fulfllment? What
other prompting Of nature is found false
| and wrong? Nature inspires us with the
| love of knowledge. 1t is developed in
early childhood and exhibited in the latest
hours of age. But in every year of life,
| and in every period of the world, nature
| is unfolding to man the vast volume of
| her works and leading him to the secret
| recesses where her Jewels of truth are
| hid. individuals are sometimes disap-
| pointed in the qualification of peculiar
| wishes, but man in general finds the
means of gratifying ali his desires. The
| world is fitted to him and he to the world
! II, on the other hand, whenever man with
his earnest mind looked forth for knowl-
| cage, mystery and darkness continually
| rose before his view; and when his trem-
! bling affections called upon human love,
| every source of earthly sympathy was
round TO be closed and men passed by
| smiling In indifference or laughing in
| scorn, or when the demands of his ma
! ture sought wholesome food, the mellow
/ fruits of earth turned continually to dust
] ana aSneS IN his mouth, We might then
| believe that one desire moreover the
| Strongest-is destined to disappointment
| too But, finding the means provided to
| answer every other need of mans ma
| ture, we believe that the last great call
| the prayer for life. will be answered also
| If the grave is the last scene Of human
| existence, the nature of man is not fitted
| to the scene in which he is placed. If man
| Is not to live right on forever his heart
| has not been rightly tuned in its many
thousand strings l. was not kind in God
| and desire for its enjoyment and lead him
! forward only 10 disappoint him by taking
| the bright vision away. Why should it be
| so difficult to convince men of mortality?
| Why should we feel inability to conceive
| of deaths approach? Are we rendered
| blind by nature to the great truths that
| shall be? Are we prevented by nature
| from dwelling upon that which IL true is
| the most wonderful of all truths? 1t is
| because we do not die that we do not con-
| ceive of death. lit is because God, the
| eternal father of the soul, does not in
| tend that we shall conceive of death We
never die. We pass from scene to scene
! in existence. We rise from glory to
| glory. There is no DEATH and we cannot
| teach men to believe what God has in
| spired them to deny. 1t is the body that
| exclamation of the survivor when the in
| telligence of his friends death is brought
| to him. Well, we ought not to believe
| him dead. We ought not to try to be-
| lieve him dead. We are not called upon
| to believe it. Why should we make the
| vain struggle to believe it true. Let ma
| ture have her way Suffer the voice of
| God to be heard in the heart Above the
| voice Of men, who have been deceived by
NOS gt oh Of