Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 36, Number 64, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 April 1904 — BELLS OF EASTER MORNING [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BELLS OF EASTER MORNING

THE SENTRY’S CLOAK. Md In the' starlight Jerusalem sleeps. With her white tcmple-upreared to the sky; as the night wind that plaintively •weeps } O’er the weird shades that on Calvary He. who has heard the dear lips that are still ■ Vanquish with lore the vain Pharisee throng, Walts at the tomb on the wind beaten hill {Through the night watches, so dark and so long. Lonely Is she, for the sentinels doze. Wrapped In their cloaks, upon buckler and sword; AM save one Roman, who, spuming repose. Guards the dark grave of the crucified Lord. Wet on the Cross Is he thinking to night, But on the wife and children at home) Loved ones whose smiles were a fathers delight : I In that far cot of Imperial Rome. Krue unto Caesar and Pilate is he; Firm is his footstep and stern la his brow; He who to Him never lowered a knee Feels not a thrill at the sepulchre MW. Hark! from the gloom comes a sorrowful cry, from a heart that is bursting with pain. Files the mailed hand to the sword on his thigh, "Nay," he exclaims, “ ’Tis that woman again—- " She who with tears yester-even was here. Pressing her babe to her rag-covered breast, [Watching this cavern of Arlmathaea, Where the bold ?>’azarene now is at restl” Seizing the camp torch he hastes to the form, Baying. "The night breeze is chilly and wild; **Take thou my cloak It Is heavy and warm Cover thyself and thy shivering child." Mindly he fondles the baby that bides In "the thin robe of that watcher sincere, rhen to his dreaming companions he strides. From his dark cheeks roughly dashing a tear. Bright dawns the sun upon Olivet's brow, Bringing from Heaven the first Easter Day; Duty and Faith both are slumbering now— She on the mantle and he on the clay. One standing near that bright Form from the dead See's the lone woman In sleep’s heavy yoke, Cries, as he- wrenches the robe from her head, "What dost thou here In the Infidel's cloak?” Then from the lips of the Savior there come Words full of tenderness, sorrow and pain—- " Lo. of My mission the substance and sum, By you poor soldier told over again!" -—Thomas Frost.

At Eastertime, with radiance rare, In all her glory, faultless, fair. On promenade the maid appears No traces left of Lenten tears, An object gay and debonair. His heart is dizzy with despair, That stylish hat, those violets daro To nod their heads and domineer,

j. At Eastertime. He knows how much this whole affair Makes, doubly sure the subtle snare; He is not jealous, has no fear That he will lose her love, the dear, The bills are what makes papa swear At Eastertime. —Herbert Haves.