The Nevada County picayune., 1921-03-31
THE ANGEL IN THE TOMB.


 Easter is poem not to be translated into prose. There is something here too big and too beautiful to be disset ed or analysed in material terms. The best things in life are beyond defini- ton, and even knowledge, and yet they are the vivid, vital realities in which we live.
 That which is genuine is of the inner epirit and disposition, rather than in the outward circumstance. The sources of happiness and misery are as varied as the individuals who feel. Most of our troubles in the world are caused by failure to comprehend ourselves, oth- CT people, events, and God.
 The poet writes better history than the historian, because the poet deals with the invisible forces back of the things the historian sees. The stories of the period in which Jesus lived fill libra ries the story of Jesus is told In a few hundred words-but one brief poem The history is largely dry and dead while the poem is the dynamic Of hu- man progress Those who know only about Jesus may be very wise, but those who know Jesus find peace that passeth understanding
 There is nothing more foolish than
 .tal fyr might as we'll argue that the flower IS beautiful that the song of the bird Is sweet. that the sunset is glorious. and that it is good for sound hearts to love. There are some things we know we do know how we know, we can not give reason for our knowing, but we know we know. We place the seat of our knowledge in the brain, but single throb of the heart can wreck the nigh tiest ation of the mind. The master intellect stands trembling and afraid in the presence of human suffering, ana a little child shall lead him to the foun- tain of learning The captain of IT. nance casts all his possessions at the ieet of love which no eye can see. With all the sublime achievements Of t,,is great, st age the world has ever known, ! has not yet cdugEt up wlth fine thought of the great Apostle, That which ls seen is temporal that when is unseen is eternal"
 All primary motives are invisible : even tte urge of selfishhss ana sih b,. .t> impulse unackn wledged hhd unknown. :it s,a timent mure = n than in sense We can not measure lie with calendar The hahy coming .ht" thr world Ike ray 't sunlight tht'n nsh el. ud. and as ,5tt N gone, h s lt- yealed more to loving hearts than all the scholars and rfe',, tt-s ii lhe age can teach.
 We have tried to confinc eternal hi' within the boundaries of tune ana I'm fl our Knowing Ia the size oI words and so we have dwelt in the ~had"" ;nste,d of n tha sunshine We haN' not understood our experiences eeeHli we have not set them in their right re Ia ations. We s,t before the marvellous book of life and it is in on unkh""h topgue we need an interpreter. Ihe philosopher can tell us something, the chemist can tell uS something the law yer and the doctor and the preacher can tell us something, but only the poe and the mystic can tell uS the real things, the things we long Tor ana pra! for when our hearts are sore.
 And there is a message for us all eoii' fident. assuring, glorious, in the real ized vision of the poet, and the preaeh' or who is a poet, as they lead us to see the invisible as the one enduring reality
 Mary came to the sepulchre Just as we come to the grave of our loved ones she stood there weeping just as we do and as she wept she stopped ana LOOK ed in just as we would, and as she looked she saw an Angel-Selected.
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