THE CHATHAM RECORD, P1TTSBORO, CHATHAM CO., N. C.
April 15, 1908
THE CHRIST
OF THE ANDES
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""aPfwrAR 3 and 4.
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HANCE it cannot be that
the festival of the resur
rection falls together
with the springing of the
- j'ear and the rebirth of
the earth. The 6trange
fittingness of times and events only
strikes us now and then when we
stop .to reflect; but this side of life,
the ' beautiful, undulating order of
the universe, is what gives man his
sense of security; it is the root of all
the gayety and the buoyancy with
which we tread the appointed paths.
What! shall the orbit of the star be
mapped out, and the hip-joint of the
locust's leg be set so that he can
make music through the hot and
sultry nights, and the blows that fall
upon the yearning soul of man be
meaningless and haphazard? Only
when we are too tired to think do
we feel the necessity of the existent
order of the universe. . .
It is not to detract from the value
of a symbol, therefore, to realize that
EASTER LILY VASE.
It is in its essence of the intrinsic
nature of the human heart, the re
sult of that inevitable preoccupation
of man, and that in all ages, all
climes, he has reacted in some way
or other against the numbing con
clusion of a possible ending. In the
lowest tribes and the farthest days
some care was taken to provide the
dead with solace on the long jour
ney, dark and mysterious, upon which
they were supposed to go. Who can
look unmoved to-day upon this relic
of a past age, in a negro cemetery,
and see the toys laid about a little
child's grave, the photographs .and
favorite possessions about those of
the older human child, without being
touched by this groping of the mind
into the darkness beyond which it
cannot yet tee clear. In its own 1
way this is a reaffirming of the unity !
of all hie; it, too, js a realization
that it is the same universal life
showing a new face. Man himself,
myriad-minded, confused by feeling
one thing at one time and a wholly
new one at another, yet holds ever
in some dark chamber of his though:
the conviction that all things are one,
and . that multiformity is but a way
of looking, ' by turns, at the par
celled, kingdom- of the universe. It
Is as in ?the child's sonc of a new
poet; ; ,
"What does it take to make a rose,
Mother mine?"
"The God that died to make it. knows
It takes the world's eternal wars, '
It takes the moon and all the stars.
It takes the might of Heaven and Hell,
And the everlasting Love as well
Little child
No atom of dust, no star-burst nor
trailing comet, must fail to the mak
ing of the whole perfection which is
the thinking body of divinity. All
the shows and the storms, the short,
cold winter days, go to the making
of the sweet and wasteful hours of
the long 'twilights. It is just this
faint "taste and premonition in the
air of what is to come which makes
epriftg, -the , season of deepest glad
ness; .it. is a, foretaste of desultory
wanderings' through a warm-breathing
; earth when: the unexpected, .visi
tations of the best . thoughts fajl,
such thoughts as can only, deign to
come in blessed idleness and renewal
of all- life, could recklessly hazard
a doubt of lasting blight? How often,
in looking upon Greek vases , we see
the flowerlike . wilted figure of Perse
phone falling lax in the arms of the
can forget who, at any rate, that
has ever looked upon the keeneyed
pitiless sorrow of the wandering
Demeter of Cnidus, in the British
Museum, can forget the grief of the
desolate mother and the resultant
sterility of the earth, -the skd news
handed oh by Hecate, who heard the
ravished maiden's cry, and by Helios,
who saw the theft. Then Zeus, tak
ing pity upon the earth, sent. Iris
with a message to Hades ordering the
redeliverance of Persephone to her
mother, that the grief of death might
not be devastating and overpowering.
So it has always been in the mind
of man, this strange anguish and de
spair at the glowing human life
which seemed to suffer sudden eclipse
In death, and its reaction, till, from
the . annual reassuring himself that
even as the seed falls Into the earth
and darkness, not only to come forth
In due season in more glorified as-
fpeot,so the soul of man suffers mo
mentary and partial eclipse to be
bora mqre gloriously .but alas.! not
Vithin the scope'of ouf vision.
; The festivals of Demeter were held
In the spring and autumn. The 7th
of April was the day set.part for
the games of Ceres. Demeter corre
sponds to Beltus in Bactrian and to
Armaiti in Zoroastrian mythology.
ArmaitI, too, wanders in sorrow from
place to place. She caused all
growth and pervaded the whole ma
terial world, even being said to dwell
in the hearts of men, and fructify
there into fair activities and noble
pursuits.
How Intimate and familiar, how
strangely modern and near, seems
the last great fact of resurrection, as
we turn to it from the more ancient
aspects! How sonorous and living
are the words of the medieval ritual:
Die nobis, Maria, quid vidisti in via?
And the detailed verification of the
antiphonal chant: -Sepulchrum
Christi viventis et gloriam vide
resurgentis.
To know One risen from the dead,
to feel the life once reaching only
a handful of folk on a strip of land
by the Mediterranean, now filling the
world and leading men everywhere,
is to know that as surely as the
spring follows winter, so surely docs
life follow death, and how little it
matters what the forms of that life
be, since at least we know that noth
ing is lost. Harper's Weekly.
EASTER PROMISES.
"There is no death!" tl;e flowers say,
"In faith we hide our souls away,
While tempests desolate the earth.
And patient wait the promised birth."
The south wind chants, "There is no death,
I come and winter is a breath;
Against his falling walls 1 set
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The snowdroD and the vinW
V1?'- Ijroljliels the hie to be,
A kindred spark abides in me,
jLiuii., iiKe me wina, no tliether Unows,
And yet is comrade to the rose.
Thus mother earth, thy gracious breast
Jj'ves all thy tired children rest,
Where, sheltered from the storms, they
bide
The coming of the Eastertide.
From "Sword and Cross, ami Other
Poems," by Charles Eugene Hanks.
THE ANNUNCIATION.
Th 3 percentage of foreigners in
Holland Is one and one-half.
THE RISEN CHRIST. (Hofmauii.)
(Colossal Statue on Boundary
Uh Betfteen Chlla and
Argentina.)
See, where it, stands in its beauty,
Where the earliest sunbeams shine;
Tall and stately and splendid:
The Christ of the Boundary Line!
Forbidden the evil impulse
That le'adeth to pain and crime;
United the faith of nations,
A compact outlasting Time!
Telling the coming of Man,
Who is born in the Image DivineJ
Like a grand, full, chord of music, .
The Christ of the Boundary Line!
As we view this beautiful statue
From the mountain paths below,
As we see its Face supernal
In the sunbeams' latest glow;
Twixt erstwhile waring nations
Of a present peace the sign:
A psalm and a jrayer in marble;
The Christ of the Boundary Line!
AS EASTER GREETING.
" Peace, My peace, be unto you ! "
Hear, ye valleys! list, ye mountains!
God's breath on the streams and
fountains,
As He maketh all things new.
In the tree tops, rustling, pendent.
Hear His garments move transcendent.
Bush and shrub are trembling, too.
"Peace, My peace, be unto you!"
Hast thou heard, dull world, the greet
ing? Dost thou rise, the Master meeting,
Working wonders rare and true?
At His footprints falling lowly,
Let us kiss His raiment holy,
Of fresh green impearled with dew.
From the German of Anges Franz.
EASTER'S REDEMPTION'.
Let me arise freed from the bonds
Of foolish, fettering creeds,
Tuned to the holy truth that meets
The spirit's needs;
Housed from the torpor of a ilod,
lleniade into Thy image, God.
!Siisie M. Best, in The Independent.
EASTER.
With heart aflame and eyes in which
Yet glowed the wonder of a vision bright,
In caer hnste she sped to comfort bring
To those who sorrowed for their Lord and
King.
"He is not dead," she cried, tier voice
Athrill with rapturous ecstasy,
"Our Lord is risen, empty is the tomb;
Our Lord is risen, past the night of
gloom."
I?ut they, loo jealous ol their grief
And blinding tears, believed her not. To
them , ; -The
styry of the Resurrection Morn
Seemed but an idle tale in fancy born.
They needs must see and touch and hear
Ilefore their doubting hearts could certain
be -. '
That lie for whom they mourned ih an
guish sore
Had triumphed over death forevermore.
O Faith that seeing not, believes,
!Jow dear to Him who died and rose again!
His gift' to us was Life, now grant we pray
Our gift to Him be Faith, in Faster Day.
Josephine Kobmson, in the Home M
ag-
azine.
Easter Novel tirs.
All torts and conditions of rabbits
of apparently every age', from the
tiniest bunny to the full-grown size
with large startled eyes and long
pointed ears; chickens, roosters,
ducks and pigeons come in the form
of boxes, to be filled with dainty bonr
bons when the head is removed. One
very novel candy box which gives no
suggestion of thergoodies within is
a miniature well of cardboard pap
ered to imitate. wood, the top covered
in a most realistic manner with rag
ged moss, and the tiny oaken bucket
hung from a silken cord. The top
of the box opens-to reveal dozens
of tiny candy eggs of every color and
flavor, and when closed, a small
pompous rooster fastened to the lid
keeps guard over the good things
within. . -
?:m$r$i lie r-
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THE TRADITIONAL SITE OP
AS Christ. risen from
the'dead? 'lf not, thea
the history of nineteen
centuries is a.n - inso
luble . problem, the
Christian Church is a
gigantic imposture, the
ireed ot Christianity is a house built
on the sand, the hope of the Christian
soul is a fond imagination The grip
of sin has not been loosened, death
Is still the king of terrors, this pres-
cnt w;orld is our master,- Innocence
has suffered her irrevocable defeat,
Injustice is seated on the throne for
ever. The meek and . the lowly, the
holy and the faithful have been de
spised; the priests and the Pharisees,
the tyrants and the traitors have con
quered. And the most beneficlent
and most radiant vision that ever
visited the human soul is only a
mirage.
"Eat, drink and die, for we are souls be
reaved. Of all the creatures under heaven's wide
cope
We are most hopeless, who
had
once
most hope,
And almost belieifess, that had most be
lieved. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
As of the unjust, .-slso ;f the just
Yea, f.i that .Ju.-l One, too!
It is ihe one sa I j-'ispel that is Irtie
Christ is not risen."
Once a year this question demands
an answer, once a week it stands at
the door, every day as we live and
work, and suffer and trust it, it is
In the background of our minds. We
may go to a distant land for the an
swer to the tomb In Joseph's garden,
said to have been open and empty
on Easter morning. We may consti
tute a court of law to decide the
question, and take the evidence of
the holy wunun, of the eleven apos
tles of Chiist, of Jewish enemies and
a host of other disciples. We can
appeal to the tradition of the church
unbroken through the centuries and
sealed by the sacrament of the Lord's
Supper. We can cite the facts of
history, the conversion of Saint Paul,
the faith of the martyrs, and the
miracle of Pentecost many times re
peated. Hut this means a long jour
ney and much reading and intricate
argument.
Can we not change the form of the
question, and ask it again not has
Christ rlson? but is Christ alive? Let
us turn from the centuries and take
the date of this morning's letter; let
us forget Palestine and be content
with our own land; let us close the
books and lock at life. Let the schol
ar come from his cloistered seclusion
and the toiler from his workshop, and
the mourner from his shadow, and
meet where all are equal on the
common platform of contemporary
fact and human experience. Were
one dropped from Mars upon this
earth, could he discover trat a certain
person called Christ had once lived,
and now was living, and was likely
tc live forever?
Come first to the Churchit mat
ters not whether it -be St. Peter's at
Rome, or "Mo.unt.Zijon" Chapel of
a f.;-. ,
aaahtaai
Browning's poem. It is a place of
worship, where the human soul mak
ing its journey ..from one world to
the next in the midst of the sad mys
tery of life, unburdens itself of care
and sorrow. So many hundreds or
so many thousands are calling from
the depths of their need unto God,
whom no man hath seen or ever can
see, and they are beseeching His
mercy and His 'help through whom?
Through Ohrist Jesus our Lord.
They lift up their voices in a song
ot victory between the battle of last
week and the corning cattle of .this
week, unto whom? Unto Him who a
logins us and hath washed us from
our sins.
Tb crowd pours through the door.
THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE.
but they are other people than when
they entered. That beaten man has
straightened himself, that widow has
peace upon her face, that outcast has
obtained a glimpse of hope Christ
is alive.
Come again to this other building
which rivals a church. Within cool
wards, fragrant with flowers and
adorned with pictures, the sick are
lying. They are poor people, who
can pay nothing for this kindness.
Some of them have been useless peo
ple, who Vave deserved nothing from
society; some of them are incurable
people, of whom nothing can be
made. Yet the finest science and the
most skilful physicians and the most
faithful women are waiting on them.
Why have they not been left to
perish, as paganism would have left
them? Why should this immense
trouble be taken with them who can
be no gain to any one? There is
another Physician present whom nc
one sees; there Is another Hand car
ing for the sick which no one feels:
! there was a Name on the subscription
CHEIST
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WOMEN AT THE SEPULCHRE
list which was never printed Jesus
Christ.
Once more. let us visit a character
istic building of our modern city. It
is an orphanage, and at its back door
in some quiet street where none can
see, children of misery in rags, in
squalor, marked with wounds, friend
less, ill-used, hopeless, are being rer
ceived. Within .this friendly" place
are comfort, healing, teaching, train
ing, peace and gladness. From the
front door in a public place children
are coming out to enter- on the du
ties of life, healthy, intelligent, self
reliant and self-respecting. It is the
utilization of the waste products of
society; it is the most practical, phil
anthropy that ever has been in
vented; it is the redemption of the j
chief woe of life, the sorrow of the
children. And the founder of this
home of joy is the friend of little
children.
Better than all the manuscripts,
and all the theologies and all the his
tories are those three evidences of
the living Christ. Here is the living
Christ, whom no grave on earth and
no throne in heaven can hold.
"Though dead, not dead;
Not gone, though fled;
Not lost,, though vanished.
In the great gospel and true creed.
He is yet risen indeed;
Christ is yet risen."
Ian Maclaren, in Youth's Compan
ion. AN EASTER DAY.
Stark girden Bhrubs. still half asleep,
In rising pools stand ankle-deep.
The strolling path beneath the gate
lias turned a river, stern and strait.
The Easter rain drives cold and swift;
The dark sky hints no mellow rift,
But stf etches obstinate and-harsh
Above a lifeless, leafless marsh.
Oh , joyously one living bit
Of all the greyness, hid in it,
Pours forth his resurrection strain
Across the rushing Easter rain.
His notes the old-time faith repeat:"
lie knows that earth is turning sweet,
Is turning warm and fair and kind.
Like miracle who cannot find
Within his heart? come to the pane..
Listen across the Eastern rain!
Fnnnie B. Damon, Dexter.; Me.
Easter
lm prtaUoe oaaoty eway and atrelL,
Ttwlr itw4 joy to ten: - '
WUti little jreM, tremtninf, bins a.
With felateat, aoftaat. plnket flruk.
And woo tb lark ' anC thnw. -
To alar tbetr t7n choral aons.
Tbalr n?tea of ecatasr wild, etroog.
, rtom . dawa tiu dark prolong.
'rawith fond reapoDsire cblme and awioj.
Biewea Delia 01 nr ot. uaxaa nog.
Glad, aUrarf .tiding bring.
Tba wild March aklee, ot bine and "gold,
The llghtaome wlnda ot spring ontold, .
Tka atorj woodroua, old "
That Jeaua,' Maater, la not dead. . .
pot from hla aceoted, rock-bewa bad,
Be hath la feeaotr ded
Back to hla gaatla mother'a breast. .
Ones mora oe "
SerapWcly to reat.
Back, oaca to trouper, w on us
Dispelling gloom and fear...-'
Into the eara'of thosa wbo weap"
O'er dear onea lu' deep grates asleepy
'Where lengthening abadowa creap,
ye, back to loTlngly repeat
Hla go pel lessons grand and sweat ,
Of charity complete.
To bid of ala and atrlfe snrceas,-.
Of Easter happiness and peaca
X Jthpoa UdlOld Increase.
AN EASTER PRAYER.
So many eyes, tear-blinded, scarcely see
The gracious hope and promise of the
spring;
Though leaf and bud are rich in prophecy,
They have no vision of the blossoming.
Oh, God of pity! at thi3 Eastertide,
May all the sweet, glad promise of the
day
Steal into troubled hearts, and there
abide
Grant visions unto such as these, we
pray.
IS RISEN.
2 -i JiJe-Sir Wv
EARLY IN THE MORNING.
HE IS RISEN.
Sweet the chime the bells are ringing,
Sweet the carol angels singing;
"Risen is our Lord most glorious,
Over sin and death victorious.
He is risen tell the story -Wafted
from His throne of glory;
From the bonds of death 6et free
O, grave, where is thy victory?
Angels, strike your harps of glory;
Waft, ye winds, the joyful story,
While with happy voice we sing,
Praises to our risen King.
-Emily Houseman Watson, in Home
Herald. -
EASTER EGGS.
Humpty Dumpty has country cousins
Who come to the city in spring by dozens;
They make-such a brilliant show intown
You'd think that a rainbow had tumbled
down
lihie and yellow and pink and green,
The gayest gowns that eve? were seen.
Purple and gold, and oh! such style.
They are all the rage for a little while;
But their visit is snort, for no one 6tays
After the Easter holidays.
All that springeih from the sod
Tendeth upwards unto God,
All that c-ometh from the skies
Urging it anon to rise. -
Welcome, then, Time's thrashing pain, '
And the furrows where each grain.
Like a Samson, blossom-shorn,
Waits the -resurection morn.
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Magazine Verse.
Out of the dark tarn sodden rain
Into the night,
Faces that tanush and turn again
Amethyst white.
Bound me the pulsing, misty year.?
Limitless gloom,
Downpour and eddying swirl of tears
Terrible doom!
t
Header, picture these awful scenes.
VThv do you sigh?
You don't know what this poem means?
Neither do I.
yM " Washington Herald.
r ' Political Success.
Knicker "What makes .1 success
ful politician?"
Bocker "The ability to tell a
bandwagon from a hearse." Judge.
What is Oblivion?
Tommy- "Pop, what is oblivion?"
Tommy's Pop "Getting married
vO a famous woman, my son."
Philadelphia Record.
A Musical Comedy Phrase.
"This is gay New York."
"And who are these sad-faced
people?"
"They are the gay New Yorkers."
Louisville Courier-Journal.
Wrong Material.
"William is getting up a literary
Club."
. "Hickory is the only kind that will
ever bring him to his senses," said
the old man. Atlanta Constitution.
Enthusiastic.
"Do you believe the President
really enjoys walking in a storm?"
"Believe it? Of course he does.
Why, half the time he kicks up the
storm himself." Philadelphia Led
ger.
1 --
Exercising the Dog.
"Justin," said Mrs. Wyss.
"Yes," replied Mr. Wyss.
"Will you speak a kind word to
Fido and make him wag his tail?
He hasn't had one bit of exerc;'se all
day." -Lippincott's.
Different Then.
"Think of the simple, truth-telling
character of George Washington!"
"Yes," answered Senator Sorghum,
"but there wasn't as much compe
tition in American politics then as
there is now." Washington Star.
After the Engagement.
"Did he get on his knees?"
"No, he couldn't; I got there first!"
New York Telegram.
Industry.
Bowery Lady "Why don't yer
look fer work 'stead of beefin' about
hard times?"
Bowery Gent "Work? Gee, don't
I work! Don't I stan' three hours oa
de bread line ev'ry night?" Puck.
His Initiation.
Mr. Hogan "Where did Oi git th
black oye? O'im pust afther bein'
initiated."
Mr. Kelley "Into what society?"
Mr. Hogan "Into th' society av
me mother-in-law." Leslie's Weeli
iy.
He is a Wonder.
"Mrs. Rollins has the most accom
modating husband I know."
"What has he done now?"
"Why, you know she was growing
very stout, and he took to drink just
to worry her thin." St. Louis Post
Dispatch.
This Earthly Stage.
"The sun," remarked the kindly
citizen, "shines for all."
"And that's what worries some
people," averred the caustic citizen.
"They seem to think the sun ought
to be handled as a spotlight." Louis
ville Courier-Journal.
One Drawback.
Olive "What an improvement it
will be if the time ever comes viien
everybody can get a seat iu the
street cars."'
Violet "Oh, I don't know. A
Kirl would never be sure then that
she was pretty." Pack.
Foolishness.
."I don't quite gst the idea in this
article," diflidently ventured the ar
dent admirer.
"You don't?"
"N-no."
"Well," demanded the popular
author, "do you suppose a man has
an idea every time he writer' "
Kansas City Journal.
Why She Kept Her.
Suburbanite "It puzzles me bo
Newsubb can knep a cook so long-'
His Neighbor "Don't you know
ho married his stenographer?"
Suburbanite "What's that got to
do with it?"
His Neighbor "Why, his wife ea
take 150 words a minute from tba
cook without even a frown. "Puck.