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Show 4-f f-fV.i.4- X Zh Hzsumttion X (WriMen for The Intermountain Catholic) Over the black o? the night steals a wan grey. Tht? pale dawn, with whlt lips climbs over the hills of Jiniea. and sorrowfully seems to pause for a moment mo-ment on lh deserted Mount of Calvary. Cal-vary. Heaver gently veils Iit thousand thou-sand eyef, and the moon but a ghol of herself shrinks from sight into tho misty grey. Now a strange light fills the ease and the air is still as though all nature na-ture held its breath. Still as seu!pturdl foliage on a Grecian urn stand the tall palms. Dumb the bird voice.- whos-a song-arrows so lately pierced the blue. All nature mourns. But, hark! Light footsteps approach the scene of the cruel agony. Nearer they come, and a figure appears- on the brow of the hill outlined against tho dead sky. Her head is bowed, and the long, silky mass of sun-touched hair falls about her in a waving veil. She paut'es. kneels, press-en her lips t the dark-dyed earth, and. passing hence, approaches the new-hewn sepulchre sepul-chre of Joseph of Arimathaea. But she starts bark in alarm, for the burnished helmets- and ruail-coatj of the Human guard shine like glowworms glow-worms on the ground about the door of the sepulchre. Her footfall on the gravel arouses one of the guard. He lifts? himself on his elbow and. yawning, yawn-ing, looks sleepily about: then, aeein that all is well, composes himself t sleep again. Magdalene draws near the shelter of a still palm and stands in the cool shadow of the broad leaves. Grim and bare and dead white in the dawn looms the mighty rock closing the sepulchre. No sound of life i.i there, save the heavy breathing of the soldiers, deep lost in sleep. But Mary raises . her heaci ;s though listening. Th- palm stir. The waters of the brook are agitated. agi-tated. Nature waves her grief pro.-trated pro.-trated form and pure, sweet and clear, an oriole sends up one trembling note, half sorrow, half joy. The air pulsates, and behold, an angel descends, front Heaven in garment of woven light. His eyes smile on Mary with hevenly effulgence, and joy beams from hit shining countenance. A strange splendor splen-dor spreads over the palm-crested hilte. The heavenly messenger hovers before be-fore the sepulchre, then, touching the stone-, itc? ponderous mass rolls asid.i like a feather tossed by the breeze. But the guards have dwakened. They start and rub their eyes, scarce believing what they see. The angel stirs not. In a panic they turn and flee, their armor ringing and the gravel sounding beneath their mailed feet. Then, sweet and far, soars that clear, bird-voice once more, not now to die away in silence, but joined by thousands thou-sands of quivering songs from every feathered throat on hill and dale, till all earth chants a glorious hymn of pratee. The sun bursts forth with, a splendor never seen by the everlasting hills and turns to rippling gold the waters wa-ters of the brook Cedron. But Mary fears not the angel, and, bearing the rich spices for the precious body, she approaches and looks within. The sepulchre is empty. She moans: ! "They have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him." And. as she grieves, a figure stand. beside her. It is the gardener, she thinks, and "Where have they taken the body of my Lord?" ehe asks, in her bitter grief. A voice divine makes an, swer, "Mary." She parts her long hair and looks ur. The Son of Man. resplendent in beauty, holds: his wounded hands toward to-ward her. Christ the Lord to risen, and Mary Magdalene falls at the feet of her savior with a cry of joy "Rab-born." "Rab-born." Mary Wood, St. Mary's academy, acad-emy, class 1900. |