The Wrangell sentinel., 1936-12-11
ELKs HOLD
 MEMORIAL sERVICEs|
Lgonlnued Lrom Page Onel

duOlueI year WHICH Has 1teu tue mowers come ana bloom anu Iade, and lu WuIcn tne passing seasons nave remlnued Us that To him wuo III the love of Nature holds ,ommunIon WIJn her visible tormsI sue speaks a various language The sprugume suggested tnoughJsI or DIrtn, oI growun, oI he, beauty anu Joy, Wnue on this December oaDDauh afternoon the somDer snaa-I oWs oI tue dylng year betoken van Ishng tnIngs. IL IS therefore emln- euJIy appropriate that the day sel ecJed Ior paylng trlDuUe 10 our honor eu dead should be au JnIs season. 1 WneD our hearts feel the soGJenIng spirit OI Nature snorn of its yer uaut beauty, and are Iuu oI sym paJny wlth parungs, memories and rerospecuons.
 Shadow of Eternity Ne are assembled on this occasion 1 to observe the dignity and tender ness of funeral rites without the 1 same elements of sadness. The task winch 1 am called upon to discnarge Is one Tn which 1 ind my heart el- 1 oquent and my tongue dumb. Hay l Ing listened to our secretary as he l called the names of our brothers who no more shall answer the roll | call among the living, l feel that 1 am standing in the shadow of eter- nIty into which our brothers have passed.
 As 1 look into your kindly faces 1 would that my voice could reach these brothers who have passed be- yond the veil. 1 would tell them that they are not forgotten, that the clock still records the hour of el- even that somewhat of good there is in us has come from knowing them, and that never in life did they seem so tender, so pure; never was it so sweet to accept their counsel and guidance as now that they speak to us only from out of the silent depths of memory. An, how true it is, friends, that cherishing the mem ory of those we have loved and lost narrows the great gulf between the Now and the Then, and binds to- gether as nothing else can, the past, the present and the future; Tester day and memory-today and love tomorrow and God.
 The Call A few days ago l came across a little poem entitled The Call", | which seemed to press home very [, forcibly the ineVitableness of death. It reads as follows:
 | Come, said a voice to a poet, as ) he sought an elusive rhyme, One nIgnt when the world was
 sleeping in the heart of the glad
 May time;
 ''Oh, how can l come?", he ans. ! wered, let me alone 1 pray, For the verse which l now am weaving, the hearts of men win sway"
 Come said the voice to a states,
 man, as he stood in the senate hall, And men moved on at his bidding like troops at a bugle call;
 How can 1 come?" he answered,
 my sun at it's zenith stands
 Before it sets forever my name
 shall be known in the lands" Come" said the voice to a moth
 CT with her children at her knee, Dreaming how safe and happy :, their life by her side should be; l "Oh, how can 1 come," she ans s wered, q pray you let me stay . For how can I leave my darlings
 to wander far away?"
 No other word was spoken but ! the poet left his pen,
 The statesman's name was heard
 no more upon the lips of men, And the children found no moth CT though they called with sobbing
 breath,
 For the voice which spoke all
 must obey-it was the voice of Death!
 One reason why that poem ap- t peals to me is because on our mem
 orial tablet there is silent portray
 al of almost the same sentiment. !, However, the lesson from the mem- orial tablet comes to us with deep
 CT meaning because the characters, instead of being imaginary are real - and from our number. Supreme Arbiter
 How constantly we are reminded that Death is the supreme arbiter .. that summarily ends the controversy of life, and from whose edicts there
 is no appeal. The solemnity of death ' never loses it's potency. No sermon = presents such a clean analysis as