The Julesburg grit-advocate., 1917-04-05

break your fast. And none OF the dis
cipies burst inquire of him, who art thou ?
knowing that II was the Lord-John 81 IL.
II Y Mess you remember the cir
cumstances involved In the
situation described In the text.
its words will seem to you un-
Important and meaningless, perhaps
utterly absurd as the text OF an Easter
sermon. But II you remember the cir
cumstances involved, those simple
words will describe to you II situation
than which you can find none more
agnificant-' more startling. more dra-
matte. more thrilling. more glorious,
between the first chapter of Matthew
and the last chapter Of Revelation.
To bring the true situation before
you. let me describe n picture of the
scene, from the marvellous brush of the
French master painter of the Christ,
no much Of whose lifetime has been
given to the production of those won
derful paintings of the life of Christ
that have been the marvel of the ar
tistic and the delight of the Christian
world for more than n decade. And
OF all the hundreds of canvases that
J. James Tissot has delighted to fill
with charming, passionate, dramatic
dnd spiritual depictions of movements
In the earthly life of the Savior, that
which shows the moment described In
our text is one of his masterpieces in
deed.
The picture makes the hour Of the
scene to be, as we know that 1t was,
the most charming hour of the love
Hest season of the year, just at sunrise
OF cloudsess day In spring. Beneath
the azure sky and clear in the sunrise
glow OF that hour, the lake Of Galilee
shines translucent from turquoise to
pAarl.
Resting at the waters edge are the
two boats, the large and the small,
OF which we read, simple and clumsy
specimens Of the boat builders craft
OF that day. Oars, poles. and nets in
them tell their use. Upon the pebbles
lies hastily discarded net, still damp
and dark from the water, and close by
lies the heap of splendid fish, fresh,
wet cleaning and sllvery in the sun.
The GOALS of fire glow ruddy in a
little heap. and a tiny thread of opal
smoke rises straight In the air of the
windless dawn. On an outer garment,
placed blanket-wise for him, perhaps
BY the tenderness Of disciple, sits
the Lord. In even so simple pose
the noble and commanding presence
Of his personality is yet unmistakable.
At hts right hand lie heaped up a
dozen fiat cakes of the newly baked
bread whose luscious brown almost
suggests their fragrant aroma. On a
simple split stick a fish is spitted, and
the Lord holds 1t In one hand above the
Goals to brown, with the other hand
moving In simple gesture and with u,,-
lifted face, as he speaks naturally, ia.
mlliarly, and with most evident fas-
cinaton to the spellbOund men that
squat In oriental fashion facing him
across the fire. "Spellhound," did we
say7 You should see the picture to
know with what divine power they ar,s
held. MotiOnless as statues, the most
OF them yet lean eagerly, amazeiIy,
passionately forward, their eyes CEN
tered on his face as if no looking
would ever satisfy the hearts that feed
on the JOY of seeing him. hearing him.
participating in the heavenly marvel
Of the hour.
Such Is the scene. I cannot know
just what 1t means to you. But NAV
l not tell you what it means to me?
It has been my privilege, now and
again. to sit as friend or guest at the
tables Of the rich, where the snowy