The Irish standard., 1909-07-10

At the funeral obsequies Of the late
Bishop Joseph B. Cotter in the st.
Mimi, on Wednesday, June 3o the fol-
lowing eloquent and touching eulogy
on the deceased prelate was bestowed
by his lifelong friend, Most Rev. John
Ireland, the Archbishop of st. Paul:
And 50. dear friend. we must bid
you farewell. We are powerless to re-
tain you. All that warm hearts could
wish to have done all that skillful
hands could do, was hidden forward
to arrest the march of the dreaded
enemy. to ward from your cherished
brow the stroke of the uplifted sword.
Alas! nought availed. o death, the
relentless foe of human loves and
human hopes, terrible thou art in thy
coverings, conquerless thou art in thy
mighty warfare. None are found, who
can resist; none who may escape the
mighty warfare. The victims Of
death-they are whomsoever death or
ders to fall-the old or the youngAthe
weak or the strong, the servant or tho
master. The victims Of deatf-thcy
are the children of Adam, whoever they
be, whatever their prowess, whatever
the deeds they are accomplishing, the
praises they are winning from their
fellows. 1T is appointed unto men once
to die" And when and where men
must not divine. Theirs to halt and
fall when the summoning trumpet
sounds, and the monster leaps into the
fray.
And so, dear Bishop Cotter, your
turn came. and you lie before US silent
and motionless,. soon to be snatched
from our view and hidden from us in
the darkness of the grave. Not long
ago you were buoyant of health and
strength; it was thought that as the
bishops of your ecclesiastical province
would, one by one,. be stricken down.
you would still stand erect even when
all others had. fallen; but you have
been taken from the ranks, while 9TH
ers, less valiant, more laden with years,
remain among the living-so vain are
our guessings as to life's closing days.
Work there was before you; we'll you
We're doing it; it demanded your pres
ence; it needed, we believed, your tire
less heart and steadied hand; but you
were Wrested from it mercilessly and
forever-so regardless is death of
human conditions and human plan
nings, so reckless and desperate is it
in reaching out for it's chosen prey.
Yes, you have been smitten by the fell
sword, and all is over; farewell, dear
friend, farewell!
Is this all there is of man-to be
born, to labor and to struggle during
a few feeting years, and, then, to be
fastened into the grave? If so van
ity of vanities it is; and what. reason
is there that We set value upon it, that
we prize it's opportunities, and strive
for it's gifts? o, vanity of vanities,
truly, If there is no rebound from the
victory of death, if no light shines
beyond the darkness of the grave, If
no meaning there is to life save that
which earth bestows, save that which
earth controls and measures To the
rescue, all-wise, all-potent Creator: to
Whose love we cling while We suffer
and sorrow, in Whose mightiness we
trust amid deaths triumphant revel-
lings. To the rescue. our risen Saw
Jour. over Whose tomb was sung the
exultant challenge-"O death, where
now is thy sting, where now is thy vic
tory?" To the rescue, our christian
faith. whose teachings, beauteous and
uplifting as the vision of the Heavens
which they open to the soul. unravel
*f1e great enigma and melts into
brightest sunshine the gloom of human
life, aye. and the gloom of the grave.
deaths last wild repair. whence it
madly shrieks its=.victim shall never