The Witness, Grace Livingston Hill Lutz [the little red hen ebook .TXT] 📗

Chapter 7 Pg 43

It Was All Very Neat And Beautiful In The Little,  Third-Story Back Room.

The Gas-Stove And Other Things Had Disappeared Behind The Calico

Curtain. Before It Stood The Small White Coffin,  With The Beautiful Boy

Lying As If He Were Asleep,  The Roses Strewn About Him,  And A Mass Of

Valley-Lilies At His Feet. The Girl,  White And Calm,  Sat Beside Him,  One

Hand Resting Across The Casket Protectingly.

 

Three Or Four Women From The House Had Brought In Chairs,  And Some Of

The Neighbors Had Slipped In Shyly,  Half In Sympathy,  Half In Curiosity.

The Minister Was Already There,  Talking In A Low Tone In The Hall With

The Undertaker.

 

The Girl Looked Up When Courtland Entered And Thanked Him For The

Flowers With Her Eyes. The Women Huddled In The Back Of The Room Watched

Him Curiously And Let No Flicker Of An Eyelash Pass Without Notice. They

Were Like Hungry Birds Ready To Pounce On Any Scrap Of Sentiment Or

Suspicion That Might Be Dropped In Their Sight. The Doctor Came Stolidly

In And Went And Stood Beside The Coffin,  Looking Down For A Minute As If

He Were Burning Remedial Incense In His Soul,  And Then Turned Away With

The Frank Tears Running Down His Tired,  Honest Face. He Sat Down Beside

Courtland. The Stillness And The Strangeness In The Bare Room Were

Awful. It Was Only Bearable To Look Toward The Peace In The Small,

White,  Dead Face; For The Calm On The Face Of The Sister Cut One To The

Heart.

 

The Minister And The Undertaker Stepped Into The Room,  And Then It

Seemed To Courtland As If One Other Entered Also. He Did Not Look Up To

See. He Merely Had That Sense Of Another. It Stayed With Him And

Relieved The Tension In The Room.

 

Then The Voice Of The Minister,  Clear,  Gentle,  Ringing,  Triumphant,

Stole Through The Room,  And Out Into The Hall,  Even Down Through The

Landings,  Where Were Huddled Some Of The Neighbors Come To Listen:

 

"And I Heard A Voice From Heaven Saying Unto Me: Write--Blessed Are The

Dead Which Die In The Lord From Henceforth ... But I Would Not Have You

To Be Ignorant,  Brethren,  Concerning Them Which Are Asleep,  That Ye

Sorrow Not,  Even As Others Which Have No Hope. For If We Believe That

Jesus Died And Rose Again,  Even So Them Also Which Sleep In Jesus Will

God Bring With Him.... For The Lord Himself Shall Descend From Heaven

With A Shout,  With The Voice Of The Archangel And With The Trump Of God:

And The Dead In Christ Shall Rise First. Then We Which Are Alive And

Chapter 7 Pg 44

Remain Shall Be Caught Up Together With Them In The Clouds,  To Meet The

Lord In The Air; And So Shall We Ever Be With The Lord. Wherefore

Comfort One Another With These Words."

 

Courtland Listened Attentively. The Words Were Utterly New To Him. If He

Had Heard Them Before On The Few Occasions When He Had Perforce Attended

Funerals,  They Had Never Entered Into His Consciousness. They Seemed

Almost Uncannily To Answer The Desolating Questions Of His Heart. He

Listened With Painful Attention. Most Remarkable Statements!

 

"But Now Is Christ Risen From The Dead And Become The First Fruits Of

Them That Slept!"

 

He Glanced Instinctively Around Where It Seemed That The Presence Had

Entered. He Could Not Get Away From The Feeling That He Stood Just To

The Left Of The Minister There,  With Bowed Head,  Like A Great One Whose

Errand And Presence There Were About To Be Explained. It Was As If He

Had Come To Take The Little Child Away With Him. Courtland Remembered

The Girl's Prayer The Night The Child Died: "Go With Little Aleck And

See That He Is Not Afraid Till He Gets Safe Home." He Glanced Up At Her

Calm,  Tearless Face. She Was Drinking In The Words. They Seemed To Give

Strength Under Her Pitiless Sorrow.

 

"The Last Enemy That Shall Be Destroyed Is Death!"

 

Courtland Heard The Words With A Shock Of Relief. Here Had He Been Under

The Depression Of Death--Death Everywhere And Always! Threatening Every

Life And Every Project Of Earth! And Now This Confident Sentence Looking

Toward A Time When Death Should Be No More! It Came As Something Utterly

New And Original That There Would Be A Time When No One Should,  Ever

Fear Death Again Because Death Would Be Put Out Of Existence! He Had To

Look At It And Face It As Something To Be Recognized And Thought Out,  A

Thing That Was Presenting Itself For Him To Believe; As If The Christ

Himself Were Having It Read Just For Him Alone To Hear; As If Those

Huddled Curious Women And The Tearful Doctor,  And The Calm-Faced Girl

Were Not There At All,  Only Christ And The Little Dead Child Waiting To

Walk Into Another,  Realer Life,  And Courtland,  There On The Threshold Of

Another World To Learn A Great Truth.

 

"But Some Will Say,  How Are The Dead Raised Up? And With What Body Do

They Come?"

 

Courtland Looked Up,  Startled. The Very Thought That Was Dawning In His

Mind! The Child,  Presently To Lie Under The Ground And Return To Dust!

How Could There Be A Resurrection Of That Little Body After Years,

Perhaps? How Could There Be Hope For That Wide-Eyed Sister With The

Sorrowful Soul?

 

"Thou Fool,  That Which Thou Sowest,  Thou Sowest Not That Body That Shall

Be,  But Bare Grain,  It May Chance Of Wheat,  Or Of Some Other Grain."

 

He Listened Through The Wonderful Nature-Picture,  Dimly Understanding

The Reasoning; On To The Words:

Chapter 7 Pg 45

 

"So Also Is The Resurrection Of The Dead. It Is Sown In Corruption,  It

Is Raised In Incorruption; It Is Sown In Dishonor,  It Is Raised In

Glory; It Is Sown In Weakness,  It Is Raised In Power; It Is Sown A

Natural Body,  It Is Raised A Spiritual Body."

 

He Looked At The Child Lying There Among The Lilies,  Those Spirituelle

Blossoms So Ethereal And Perfect That They Almost Seem To Have A Soul.

Was That The Thought,  Then? The Little Child Laid Under The Earth Like

The Bulb Of The Lily,  To See Corruption And Decay,  Would Come Forth,

Even As The Spirit Of The Lilies Came Up Out Of The Darkness And Mold

And Decay Of Their Tomb Under-Ground,  And Burst Into The Glory Of Their

Beautiful Blossoms,  The Perfection Of What The Ugly Brown Bulb Was Meant

To Be. All The Possibilities Come To Perfection! No Accident Or Stain Of

Sin To Mar The Glorified Character! A Perfect Soul In A Perfect,

Glorified Body!

 

The Wonder Of The Thought Swelled Within Him,  And Sent A Thrill Through

Him With The Minister's Voice As He Read:

 

"So When This Corruptible Shall Have Put On Incorruption,  And This

Mortal Shall Have Put On Immortality,  Then Shall Be Brought To Pass The

Saying That Is Written: Death Is Swallowed Up In Victory. O Death Where

Is Thy Sting? O Grave,  Where Is Thy Victory? Thanks Be To God,  Which

Giveth Us The Victory Through Our Lord Jesus Christ!"

 

If Courtland Had Been Asked Before He Came There Whether He Believed In

A Resurrection He Might Have Given A Doubtful Answer. During The Four

Years Of His College Life He Had Passed Through Various Stages Of

Unbelief Along With A Good Many Of His Fellow-Students. With Them He Had

Made Out A Sort Of Philosophy Of Life Which He Supposed He Believed. It

Was Founded Partly Upon What He _Wanted_ To Believe And Partly Upon What

He Could _Not_ Believe,  Because He Had Never Been Able To Reason It Out.

Up To This Time Even His Experience With The Presence Had Not Touched

This Philosophy Of His Which He Had Constructed Like A Fancy Scaffolding

Inside Of Which He Expected To Fashion His Life. The Presence And His

Partial Surrender To Its Influence Had Been A Matter Of The Heart,  And

Until Now It Had Not Occurred To Him That His Allegiance To The Christ

Was Incompatible With His Former Philosophy. The Doctrine Of The

Resurrection Suddenly Stood Before Him As Something That Must Be

Accepted Along With The Christ,  Or The Christ Was Not The Christ! Christ

_Was_ The Resurrection If He Was At All! Christ _Had_ To Be That,  _Had_

To Have Conquered Death,  Or He Would Not Have Been The Christ; He Would

Not Have Been God Humanized For The Understanding Of Men Unless He Could

Do God-Like Things. He Was Not God If He Could Not Conquer Death. He

Would Not Be A Man's Christ If He Could Not Come To Man In His Darkest

Hour And Conquer His Greatest Enemy; Put Himself Up Against Death And

Come Out Victorious!

 

A Great Fact Had Been Revealed To Courtland: There Was A Resurrection Of

The Dead,  And Christ Was The Hope Of That Resurrection! It Was As If He

Had Just Met Christ Face To Face And Heard Him Say So; Had It All

Explained To Him Fully And Satisfactorily. He Doubted If He Could Tell

The Professor In The Biblical Literature Class How,  Because Perhaps _He_

Chapter 7 Pg 46

Hadn't Seen The Christ That Way; But Others Understood! That White,

Strained Face Of The Girl Was Not Hopeless. There Was The Light Of A

Great Hope In Her Eyes; They Could See Afar Off Over The Loneliness Of

The Yed By Varying The Combinations And Proportions Of These

Fifty. We Have Seen How Quickly Elements Formerly Known Only To

Chemists--And To Some Of Them Known Only By Name--Have Become

Indispensable In Our Daily Life. Any One Of Those Still Unutilized May

Be Found To Have Peculiar Properties That Fit It For Filling A Long

Unfelt Want In Modern Civilization.

 

Who,  For Instance,  Will Find A Use For Gallium,  The Metal Of France? It

Was Described In 1869 By Mendeleef In Advance Of Its Advent And Has Been

Known In Person Since 1875,  But Has Not Yet Been Set To Work. It Is

Such A Remarkable Metal That It Must Be Good For Something. If You Saw

It In A Museum Case On A Cold Day You Might Take It To Be A Piece Of

Aluminum,  But If The Curator Let You Hold It