The Birmingham age-herald., 1919-04-20
critics and sonethi

p a1a ris.ia |Ch lot e3e s.4es. It was 6 praf3ssra ae tonl1 --4sfhom, and because Tot1eca sf solve it he branded them
 as bar 2orltes. Thus his soul slumbered, i wasting aw ay under the torpor. The war | had brought no change in him, and the outrages p perpetrated upon civilization stirred no feeling of sympathy in his heart.
 One moonlight night in May this man sat on the door of the billet house alone as usual. All the other men were inside celebrating a recent French victory. The little village was quiet in slumber. Dark clouds partly concealed the moon and a gentle breeAe stirred the poplar trees. A faint buzzing sounded in the sky. The man became alert. Again the same noise. In ar instant he was at the door breathless- ly telling the men inside of the approach ing bombardmen He did not seek safety with them, but fled cautiously down the dark streets, awaking the sleeping village to it's impending danger. The first bomb hit an unoecupied shop. Then came aer fening hproar as bomb after bomb deoaaaI from the heavens, leaving in tneir a.>se death and destruction. Heed lesslv the 3a- ran on, but at last the ntl gtiag sh breed him to seek shell ter 1fo cu 60 side street. On the corner tgss i4rge brick structure with a neh rta1pls Perhaps there was cellar una. sh3s place. The large door stood open, an the man stepped quickly in. A solemn peace prevailed within Qespite the awful tumuit outside. He made his way down an aisle of benches, stumbling as he went The noise from without had ceased The man breathed more easily; perhaps if was all over Suddenly a terrific ex- plosion vibr ated through the building, mighty unheaval and the holy edifice lay in ruin. Quiet again. The pale moon ;oer softly illumi mating the place where weary souls had often found rest and comfort.
 Clear in the soft glow, above heap of brick and ma rble once an altar. stood crucifix, saNed from destruction by the Almighty Power
 The man lay in the debris below, with blood trickling down his agonized face. Slowly his eyes opened to the starry sky. Then his gaE fell upon the figure on the cross. with it's nailed hands and feet, and crown of thorns. 70, Jesus, Thou suffered, too he turned his head as if he were too sinful to look upon the holy image. "HaNe mercy on my soul," he mur- mured
 In the silence came the sound of dis tant voices, singing. Once they seemed very close, and then the man caught the words, 'Thdugh your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow" It Was an old hymn he had often heard his mother
 
 sing in the long forgotten years. He opened his eyes again, but tRe music nad ceased. Abd I've him was the cruclfx, around which a strange light began to gather until the figure became entirely diffused in its radiance.
 The man closed his aching eyes from the light and spoke in whisper, "Tell me, O Lord, how may be forgiven of my sins?'
 Out of the air there seemed to come a soft voice. IT am the resurrection, ana the life; he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever liHeth and believeth in Me shall never die"
 "Is it so simpler asked the man.
 Again the voice spoke, Be not airaid' only believe.
 A tranquil smile crept over the mans face. the expression of pain and agony had fled, and the marks or sin were no more.
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