The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1899-04-14

morn. The two White robed angels that
hurled the stone away from the door Of
the tomb hurled it with such violence
down the hill hat it crushed in the
door of the worlds sepulcher, and mil
lions of dead shall come forth.
However labyrinthine the mauso-
leum, however costly the sarcOphagus,
however architecturally grand the ne
cropolis, however beautifully parterred
the family grounds, we want 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. Husbands and wives-they
must come out. Brothers and sisters
they must come out. Our darling chill
dren-they must come out. The eyes
that with trembling fingers we closed
must open in the luster of resurrection
SERMON NO 8 Aa
morn. The arms that we folded in
death must join ours in embrace Of
reunion. The beloved voice that was
hushed must be retuned. The beloved
form must come up without its inflrmi-
ties, without it's fatigues-it must come
up. Oh, how long it seems for some OF
you! Waiting-waiting for the resur-
rection! How long! How long! 1
make for your broken hearts today a
cool, soft bandage Of lilies. I comfort
you this day with the thought of resur-
rection.
RESURRECTION.
When Lord Nelson was buried in St
Pauls cathedral in London, the heart
of all England was stirred. The process
sion passed on amid the SObbing OF a
nation. There were 80 trumpeters sta
toned at the door of the cathedral
with instruments of music in hand
waiting for h signal, and when the
illustrious dead arrived at the gates Of
CT po111'c cathedral these S0 fr11mDPf-
ers gave one united blast, and then all
was silent. Yet the trumpetS did not
wake the dead. He slept right on. But
| I have to tell you, what 80 trumpeters
! could not do for one man n tru1npeter
will do for all nations. The ages have
| rolled on and the clock of the worlds
destiny strikes 9, 10, II, IL, and time
shall be no longer! Behold the arch
| angel hoveringl He takes the trumpet,
points it this way, puts it's lips to his
lips, and then blows n long, loud,
terrific, thunderOus, reverberating and
resurrectionary blast! Look, look! They
rise! The dead, the dead! Son COM
ing forth from the family vault, some
from h city cemetery, some from the
country graveyard. Here a spirit is
| joined to it's body, and there another
| spirit is joined to another body, and
millions Of departed spirits are aSSort-
ing the bodies, and then r%eclothing
! themselves in forms radiant for ascen-
| sion.
The earth begins to burn, the bonfire
Of a great victory. All ready now for
the procession Of reconstructed human
ity! Upward and away! Christ leads
| and all the Christian dead follow, bat
talon after battalion, nation after ma
ton. UP, up! On, on! Forward, ye
ranks of God Almighty! Lift up your
heads, we everlasting gates, and let the
c~onquerers come in! Resurrection!
Resurrection!
And so I twist all the festal flowers
of the chapels and cathedrals Of all
| Christendom into n great chain, and
with that chain I bind the Easter
morning Of 1899 with the closing Eas-
ter of the worlds MISREPRESENTATION!
May the God of peace that brought
| again from the dead our Lord Jesus,
that great Shepherd Of the sheep
through the blood of the covenant
make you perfect in every good work
to do his will!