| OCR Text |
Show REMEMBRANCE Of DEAD j . t Our Graveyards Are Hallowed Places j Mortal Remains of Our Friends Rest There Most Pleasing Trait in Nation and Individual, Remembrance of Dead More Pleasing Still the Remem- j brance of Immortal Spark, the Soul j The Help of Prayer and Alms Deed3. At the versper services last Sunday Rev. Father Brennan, anticipating the Feast of , Souls, celebrated cele-brated on Tuesday, preached on departed souls. The sermon was a beautiful tribute to the memory of the dead. He took for his text II Machabees xii :4t : "It is. therefore, a holy anil a wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from their sons." Our graveyards, dearly beloved brethren, are for us hallowed places, for there rest the mortal remains re-mains of our dear ones, whom we loved so tenderly on earth, and from whom we parted so sorrowfully when death stole in and took them from our midst. There are vacant chairs in every home. Hanging on the walls, and over the mantelpiece, are the sweet silent faces of loved ones, whom we shall nevermore see in this changing world. With some it is the mother who is missing the mother whom, when gone, none other can ever fill her place. The angel of the home is she, and in sorrow's darkest hour in in fair fortune's brightest, the true mother's heart knows only one beat, and that heart's beat is love for her children, and, when death comes and snatches her away, their loss cannot be measured. In other homes the vacant chair belonged to a father. fath-er. His children, ah, how well they remember his loved form. Many an evening in the glad past have they met him at the little gate before the door as ; he returned from his daily work, and when he saw them, he forgot his labors, he forgot his sorrows. The smile of happiness lit up his honest face as i he greeted them and took the youngest and the weakest of his little ones in his sturdy arms, and carried it with joy into the home, where the patient, true, loving wife wa3 waiting. This world has had many heroes, many saints, but oh, none so heroi none so saintly as the virtuous, constant, faithful, loving father and mother, who live for their God and their little ones. The vacant chair in other homes was once filled by a strong, true brother, or a gentle, loving sister. Many a day in the happy past have they journeyed with us to the village school or knelt with us before God's altar in the little chapel. Their foot was fleetest on the play- 1 ground, their laughter was the gladdest music in : . the old home. Death came and took them from us and then we felt as if the sun had gone out of ' our lives. With many of us it is a fellow worker j whom we miss. In the days past he toiled by our ' side out there on Utah's mountains, and the manhood, man-hood, the probity, the cheer of his presence gave us courage and hope. We ever had the strength of ! his right arm, we ever held the friendship of his I true, honest heart, and the cheer of his kindly, sym- j pathetic voice was as glad music to our ear. One i day he said his last good-bye to us and then wo laid him down to sleep in the little graveyard on f the hill. His pick lies outside his log hut, his coat hangs upon a peg inside the door. He is gone into i" the shadows. Life is but a meeting and a part- ! ing. j " 'There is no flock, however watched and tender, But one dead lamb is there. There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, ! But has one vacant chair.' ' "Our graveyards, dearly beloved, are hallowed places, and every nation has a day set apart on .' which her children in life visit her children in death . to lay upon the graves there tokens of remembrance remem-brance and love. Watch the silent groups of old f and young, men and women in the winter, the au- ' tumn and the summer of life, and the boys and girls in the freshy hopeful spring; see how reverently they tread around those hallowed mounds, each one endeavoring en-deavoring to hear, is it were, the familiar, the loved accents of the tongue that is now silent forever. j each one endeavoring to peer through the mist3 of l death to catch once more a glimpse of the face that in this life they shall never more gaze upon. Yes, yes, as those reverent groups stand there there is a deep, sad silence about each; a deep, sad silence ? which speaks plainer than words. !- ";Oh, for a touch of a vanished hand ; And the sound of a voice that is still." A deep reverence, a loving recollection of the dead is one of the most beautiful traits of a nation, na-tion, one of the noblest characteristics of the human hu-man heart. Yes, dear brethren, the placing upon the graves of our dear ones, the pure fresh flowers, flow-ers, the tribute of your love, is indeed a beautiful token of your remembrance of them, but there ii a far more precious tribute you are never to forget for-get the tribute of your prayers. "The grave holds the mortal remains of your friends, but the immortal spark, the soul, rests' not there. Its home is in the eternity. Back to the eternal lands the soul has flown, back to the beginning begin-ning and end of existence God. We cannot follow fol-low that soul there with the tribute of flowers or any other gift, however precious, but we can follow fol-low it with those spiritual aids prayer and other good works done in its behalf. Faith tells us of the immortality of the soul beyond the tomb. Faith tells us of that Heaven which God had prepared for those that love and serve Him, but faith tells us, too, that no soul defiled with the least stain of sin shall enter there. The soul that departs this life with one spot of sin upon it will have to pass through the fires of purgatory before it can bask in the pure presence of its God. In the second book of Machabees we read that when the valiant Judas Machabaeus came into the city of Odollam he east cast aside the sword and betook himself to prayer. Continued on Page 5. REMEMBRANCE OF DEAD. Continued from Page 1. and the sacred text informs us that he made a gathering of 12,000 drachms of silver and sent it to Jerusalem for sacrifice to be offered for the sins of the dead, thinking well and religiously concerning concern-ing the resurrection, and the sacred text further adds: 'It is a holy and a wholesome thought to pray for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins.' Christ himself, in the Gospel of St. Matthew, speaks about a prison in the future life' ' from which no man can come out until he has paid the last farthing, and the same idea is expressed in the end of the twelfth chapter of St. Luke. St. Paul, writing to the Corinthians, refers also to the fire of purification, showing that man in the next world becomes happy, having suffered the. punishment punish-ment of fire. Nothing which is not perfectly pure and spotless can stand before Him who is infinite purity and sanctity. 'Nothing defiled,' says St. John, 'shall enter into the holy city of the heavenly heaven-ly Jerusalem,' and the just man who departs this life with venial sins upon his soul or some debt of temporal punishment to be cancelled must pass through a state of purification before he is admitted to the realms of eternal light, where the God of glory reigns. In the prison house of purgatory the soul is detained until it has paid the last farthing. It cannot help itself, for the night has come when no work can be done, but we, by our prayers and good works, can shorten that soul's purgation ; we. can. loosen the chains which keep it from its God. 1 1 In the graveyards above the cities, irr' the graveyards grave-yards 'neath the shadows of the mountains, our loved ones lie sleeping. Let us place upon their graves the tribute of flower and tear; let us go often there to pause and linger and take in the sermon those hallowed mounds of earth preach to us on the vanity of all earthly things, and let this thought come home to us, too. In the eternity the souls of our loved ones may be held back on account of faults an dimperfections from the light that knows not night, from the glory that has no bounds. Oh, let us hasten to their aid and with our prayers, our good works, that the gates of the eternal day may spring open for them and, entering there, they may enjoy the beatific vision. "The Catholic church, our loving mother, invites in-vites us many times during the year, and especially especial-ly during this month of November, to join our earnest ear-nest prayers with hers for the dear departed. Oh, how that great mother loves her children! From their first faint cry to their last moan, she cares for them, she watches over them. See how lovingly she brings her babes to the baptismal font and in the name of the Blessed Trinity makes them children chil-dren of God. See how in confirmation she imparts to her boys and girls the spirit of holiness, fortitude forti-tude and truth, whispering to them at the same time : 'Go forth. Be virtuous men and women. Fight the battles of the Christ valiantly and well.' And ah, if one of her children stay away into the dark of sin, she follows after him to seek him and bring him home to light, to peace, to his God. And when the shadows are falling she gives to her children chil-dren the Bread of Life and sends them forth with the lamp ol laith and hope ana love-to meet their God. Nor is this all. She follows them into the eternity beyond with her sacrifice, her prayers and her alms deeds. Clothed in the garments of mourning, mourn-ing, she offers up the mass, the one great sacrifice of the new law for the dead soldiers of the Christ, and sweet and strong and hopeful the beautiful requiem re-quiem issues from her lips : "Eternal rest grant to them, Oh Lord, and may their souk rest in peace.' "Yes, yes, in a voice of unutterable love she asks her children of every age and of every clime to kneel with her in prayerful remembrance of the dead. "Remembrance, oh blessed word I What balm that word brings to weary, worn, sorrowful hearts' The exile beyond the waters, though strange faces surround him and the struggle for daily bread is a hard one, still, in his hardest and darkest hour, this thought, this ray of hope and cheer breaks in and lights up his heart : In the old land loving hearts beat for me, faithful minds ever think of me. There is a letter in his pocket; it is a soiled and crumpled one, and on it is a mother's tear, in it is a mother's love. Its pages breathe a lasting remembrance. re-membrance. The criminal about to be executed stands upon the scaffold. The world has no pity for him. He deserves his fate is their verdict, but yet in that dread hour he derives a consolation consola-tion from this thought : Ciiminal as I am, with the brand of Cain upon my brow, there is a mother, moth-er, a sister who love me still; a mother, a sister, who will remember me when the darkness falls. Oh, sad, sad indeed, and terrible beyond words, is , the position of a man who, on the stroke of death, I buries his face in his hands, giving vent at the same time to those piteous words : 1 go and none will remember me.' Oh, sweet remembrance that will still love when a worid hates, a world forgets. Oh, I sweet remembrance that will pluck the fresh fair flowers for the friend's grave and let fall the lov-. j ing tribute of a tear upon his earthly remains, but j oh sweeter remembrance that will follow, ever fol-1 low, the friend's soul to the eternity beyond. the tomb with prayer and almsgiving and good works, beginning and ending all with this beautiful supplication sup-plication : '"Eternal rest grant unto him, Oh Lord. May his soul rest in peace.' "Oh, sweet remembrance. Oh, blessed remembrance. remem-brance. God has given us minds to remember and hearts to love. '"If thou should'st never see my face again Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayers Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me, night and day, For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift pot hands in prayer, Both for themselves and those who call them friends, For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by golden chains to the feet of God.' "Yes, yes, dear brethren, let our voice in prayer rise like a fountain for our friends, night and day let the beautiful thought of the great St. Ambrose be ever before our minds : '"We have loved them in life; let us not forget them in death.' . I "Let us imitate the valiant Judas Machabaeus; not, indeed, as he wielded the sword, but as he raised his hands in prayer for the dead long ago in old Odollam. "It is a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead that they may be loose from their sins." |
