Oh, yes, death ls an enemy. Death
at times seems to be a cruel and a
merciless enemy. It breaks asunder
the marital bands. It lifts the little
baby out of the crib und shuts her for?
ever from our eyes by the closing of
tho coffin lid. It strikes down the; strong
man who ls proclaiming (Joel's word In
the pulpit. It empties the office of the
physician who ls beneling over the pa?
tient, lt seimotlmos semis the pleaeling
lawyer to the grave even be'fore tlie
murderer whom he- has defended expi?
ates his crime upe>n tlie gallows.
A 1.1 vina; SorroTr.
But when listening to that sermon In
the faroff country of New Zealand I
soliloquized thus: "That widow ls to?
day having her heart crushed by the
hearse's wheels even as the Indian
juggernaut used to mangle- the bodies
of the Hindoo deve>tees. Rut u living
Re>rrow ean be more formidable anel a
more awful enemy than a sorrow of
the grave. The fiendish acts of a disso?
lute, a debauched, a drunken, a erue-1
or an unfaithful husband can weigh
more heavily upon the wife-"s heart
than the corpse of a dead husband.
