Ottumwa semi-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1899-1903, 1901-09-24


The Offertorium, pray for the
Dead" by Larghetta was rendered by
the choir the mass concluded, and
bowed by common sorrow the choir
Joined in singing tina, hymn most
dear to the one we mourn, Nearer NV
God to Thee" There was look Of
sorrow and supplication on every face
as though they carried with them the
words of the closing verse of tao
hymn:
Deep in thy sacred heart,
Let me abide.
Thou that has bled for me,
Sorrowed and died;
Sweet shall my weeping ha
Grief surely leading me,
Nearer my God to Thee,
Nearer, to Thee"
Father Maniett's Address.
The address was made by Father
Maniett, pastor of Sacred Heart 1
church in which he spoke as follows:
My dear friends:-Two weeks ago,
like lurid lightning flash in a clear
sky, came the news that the Presi-
dent of our nation had been struck
down by the hand of an assassin. The
nation was stunned. Men paused in
their work and business affairs and
gathered in groups to discuss the aw-
full tidings. Then came words from
the sick room, words of cheer and
hopefulness. The President would
live, they told us. and once more the
pulse of the nation beat free again
and the nations hopes ran high. 1t
was the universal prayer of the peo-
pie that the President might live, for
though they recognized the fact that
the blow was struck at the Office he
held, their sympathy naturally was
with the man. Then came other
words from the sick-room, words
which sunk deeper into the nations
heart, for they told us, the President
is dead. Alas, how soon are earthly
hopes crushed, and how true the eter-
nal words, the last words on the lips
of our dead President, Gods will,
not ours, be done"
And SO today, the people of our be-
loved country, gathered in their
churches throughout the land, humb.
ly bow their heads in submission to
that supreme power on high, which
rules the coming and going of every
mortal being.
For die we must. Ever since that
fatal day when our first parents plung-
ed the world into sin and misery, the
fiat uttered in the garden of paradise
re-echoes at the birth of every living
thing. Dying thou shalt die the
death and then it was that life
became, not never ending joy as
the creator intended, but mere path
way from the cradle to the grave
Just as the shadow of the cross hung
over the crib at Bethlehem, so the
shadow of the grave hangs over us
when we are born, and follows us
through manhood years and leaves us
not till we are numbered with the
dead. Remember man that thou art
dust and unto dust thou shalt return
And in what divers ways the sum-
mons comes. The infant prattling one
moment in it's mothers arms, the next
moment answers her smile no more.
The joyous laugh of the boy is hush
ed and the roses in the cheeks of the
blushing maiden give place to the pal
lor of death. And the strong man, in
the prime or MONDAY of life full of
hope of happy days to come, is strick-
en- down, as our departed President
was. Or. again; it comes to the old
man, sitting by the fireside, waiting
for the shadow of lifes twilight to
close him round.
1t may come without warning like
a thief in the night when We know
not the day nor the hour, or it may
come after long sickness and pain,
when through Gods mercy, we have
time to prepare. But come it will, and
the one sure thing in this life which
we must face, whether We wish it or
not, is death. 1t is no respecter of
persons and knocks alike at the pal
ace and the howell. The death of the
President when all were hopeful of
his recovery should be lesson to each
one of us to keep ourselves constant
| ly prepared to meet the final sum-
mons which may come when we least
| expect it.
But the most shocking things in
connection with this which has plung-
ed the nation into mourning, are the
manner and causes Of that death. And
We may well pause and give them con-
sideration.
That here In America here in ma
| tion founded on the brotherhood Of
man, in a nation where the President
is not czar ruling over serfs nor a
monarch ruling over vassals, but q
L
cannot go among those people as free
ly as any other man but does so at
the IRISH of his life, is something aw-
full. And what makes it worse, if it
can be worse, is the fact that he was
struck down at the very moment when
he was extending his hand in peace
and good will to the very man who
shot him.
i Is there not food for reflection here?
Does it portend that life is a cheap
commodity among us. Does not the
telegraph, every day in the year, bring
news of murders committed, not in
one but in many parts of the country?
Is the individual conscience, that God
given monitor of right and wrong, be-
coming blunted among our people?
Il Crimes that become known and crimes
unnamable that never become known
make up daily catalogue fearful to
contemplate.
\ To be sure, the murder of him who
j is President gives the crime a nation
4 al aspect, but the life of the day la