Richmond planet. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1883-1938, 1900-05-26

actual life turned out TO be the exact
reverse of all she had planned and
hoped. Her passion was painting and
her ambition was to paint into the face
of the sphinx true answer to its own
question of life. 1t was to be mys-
terry solved, riddle guessed. All the
spare moments of many years were
given to the brush, and this brush was
given almost wholly to this one face,
in which she sought 10 mingle spirit
uality, intelligence, benevolence and
faith, for in the proper proportion and
blending of these she saw the secret
of perfect life. Her task was yet unac-
complished when her days were end
ing, and in the unfinished face could be
read her own sad history.
Hers is an oft-told tale, beginning
with an uncongenial marriage, fol-
lowed by frettings over interruptions,
quarrehngs with environments, ques-
tioning providences and listening to
answers she did not understand, then
finally settling down hopelessly, sub
lenly to the inevitable.
Such a story as this comes quickly to
mind when one stands before the
Gizeh sphinx and looks into it's immor-
tai face. There is probably no his
torical connection between this Egyp-
tian giant and the tabled Grecian mon
ster who propounded riddles to trav-
elers and devoured those who could
not guess, yet the stone sphinx is no
less an embodiment of mystery than
the Grecian.
Who brought into being this prodigy
of the desert? What is it's age? Its
use? Is it god, king, monument or
tomb? Answering is guessing. 1t was
born out of the solid rock, lay buried
for centuries among the tombs, was
raised from the dead. In body it is
lion, in head il is man. Once it wore
the hood of royalty, now only wig
remains. 1t defies time, yet is time
worn, and every breeze carries earth to
its burial
The strange thing about this sphinx
is that while it is changeless as rock
it is yet never the same. Its expression
differs with every light and shade. No
two negatives are exactly alike. Those
hollow eyes look far away to the Mo-
kattam hills, whence rises the sun, and
as the earliest light of morn warns the
broken features the old face wakes
from its night of sleep with a quiet,
hopeful, human smile, as though, even
after 80 centuries, life was yet worth
living At midday, when the sun is
high, those same features cast deep
shadows, the face looks worn and
wrinkled and the eyes seem tired OF
their everlasting gaze. At evening,
when the day is dying and the twilight
deepens into night, when its back is
turned upon the sun, the countenance
is dark with gloomy forebodings and
the crouching lion seems about to
pounce upon it's prey.
Many learned books have been writ
ten to explain such lives as that of ,hc
woman who sought TO paint the per-
feet face. One calls it fate, another
folly, but neither guesses right. The
stone sphinx of the Lybian hills can
answer better. He who would under
stand the mysteries of human life
! must take the PARKWAY look, the pa
tient, hopeful, heavenward gaze, for
things far interpret things near and
! eternity mends the broken links of
time; he must battle his face in the
light that lighteth every man that
cometh into the world, for he who
turns his back upon the Sun OF Right
eousness walks in his own shadow into
ever deepening darkness. AS there is
no color without the light, so is there
no peace without the Christ. This was
the burden of the song when the
sweet singer of Israel sang: with
Thee is the fountain of life, in Thy
light shall we see light.H-Rev. Gilbert
/ Frederick, d. D., in Chicago Standard.