The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1917-04-08

The Day of Resurrection. The day
of all the days of the Christian year
when the world is glad with songs of
triumph, when the fragrance of the
blossoms and the glory of the sun
shine seem to typify the glad faith
of the Christian, who looks up to
heaven in rejoicing.
In all the thousands of years since
the coming of Christ there has never
been an Easter like this Easter. In
all the MILLIONS of days which have
gone to the making of the centuries,
there has never been day such as
this, when all Christendom came to
the festival of the springtime, with
the reverberations of war sounding
loud and strong and clear, mingling
with the songs of the saints, which
have come down to US through all the
ages.
The Day of Resurrection! The time,
if ever, when the soul may put off its
mourning, may drop the pail that has
darkened the hours thatAhave gone
before, and may put on the garment
of gladness. A garment pure as the
lilies of the field, and more perfect
in its beauty, embroidered with prom
Uses of joy, and bright with jewels
which are priceless.
But today, as we listen to the an
thems of joy, and as the voice of the
organ is raised triumphantly: Death
is conquered, man is free, Christ has
wc3 the victory" we hear perhaps
the cry of a stricken soul, as life is
taken on the battlefield, or the an
guish of a mother, as she bids fare
we'll to her son.
And in all the churches of all the
countries of all the world there is
sorrow today.
Must the soul, then, look up, on this
Easter morning? Can the heart re-
ioice in this terrible hour of the
worlds great travail?
Il have taken out of thine hand the
cup Of trembling, and thou shalt no
more drink it again"
It was God who spake these words
to Isaiah, many hundreds of years
ago. 1t was this promise. and others
like to this, which make the sunshine
of Easter brighter, which make the
songs of Easter beautiful and tri-
umphant, which give one courage to
put off the garb of mourning and
put on the garment of faith, bright
with the stars of the morning.
It is because the world is dark that
the Day of Resurrection is beautiful.
It is because there is strife in the
world. that the Easter music car
ries it's note of triumph.
"Oh, death where is thy sting. Oh,
grave where is thy victory?"
Today on the battlefields of Europe
and OF, the high seas death is taking
its toll.
The hearts of women are breaking
and little children are begging for
bread, that they may live.
In this country which is so fair
and rich and lovely, so blessed beyond
all other countries of the world, the
reyeille is calling to arms, and hearts
are fearful of what lies before them.
And yet-"I have taken out of
thine hand the cup of trembling and
thou shalt no more drink it again.
1t is the promise of God that lifts
the heart up to sing, on this glad
Easter morning. For so long as the
soul is deathless, the heart will re-
joice, in spite of all the horrors of
carnage and its brutalities.
No man can kill the soul. The ma
chimes of destruction may only bat
ter down the things that may be
builded again, and the taking of life,
with all its terrors, is but the open
ing of a door into the kingdoms of
another world.