Some Fall Upon Stony Places

Some Fall Upon Stony Places By STANLEY D. JONASSON THERE are great things which proclaim the Creator, there are countless little things that proclaim him too; a little seed becomes the giant tree, another becomes the dainty violet by its base. . I want to tell you about a tiny seed that came into the closing story of a noted woman's life. This woman had developed her talents to such a wonderful degree that she became a leader among men and women. Her home town, Hanover, Germany, was proud of its daughter. Her fame spread throughout the length and breadth of Europe. She was held in such high esteem by the great and near great that even royalty bowed to her. "COR her brilliant success she gave ■*■ not the least credit to God, but took all the glory to herself. She scoffed at [religion and de- clared : "There was no before, there is but now, and there is no here- after." She even went so far as to put in her will the dimensions of her burial place, how it should be made of heavy masonry and stone, and how immense blocks of stone, sealed and attached one to another by strong iron bands, should cover the tomb. So strong and tight should this vault be made that she boastfully announced: "When so made, no power from above or below can open my grave." HTIME sped on and this woman L went the way of all flesh — she died. Her funeral was one that the inhabitants long remembered; it was held with all the pomp and honor that a worshiping public could give to a famous personage. The place of burial was made exactly as she had commanded in her will. There were the impreg- nable walls of stone and masonry. The Open Grave After the coffin was lowered the solid walls were covered with huge slabs of stone and bound together with powerful iron bands. As people passed by, they said within themselves : "Surely, all the elements com- bined cannot open that grave." A LL was over. Within the -**- quiet cemetery, the silent city of the dead, nothing moved. But a little seed fell from its mother O Breeze that Bloweth (Ait the interment of a dear friend who died at noon on Moth- er's Day, May 13, 1928.) O BREEZE that bloweth through the trees, O'er everything the vision sees, From dull roofs to anemones, Blow you in realms above? O breeze of earth with boundaries fixed, Can thought go with you inter- mixed, A leaping thought that vaults be- twixt And speaks with those we love? — Kate Thomas. tree nearby, and lodged in a tiny crevice of the monument to the dead. Here it found a suitable home, and the elements nourished it. After a time this little seed began to swell. A miniature tree followed this development. First it was no bigger than a blade of grass, but not long thereafter it reached a size that a boy might cut down for a plaything, It was as completely ignored as were the silent remains sleeping below the stone. It became a sapling, then a healthy young birch tree. As years went by it began to broaden and show strength and power. Still it grew and grew till it burst those iron bands, pushed aside the huge stones and left an open grave — putting to naught the words: "There is no power in heaven or on earth." HPHE tree leans over and against ^ the largest of the stones, and where the bark has come in con- tact with and been bruised by the hard rock, large bumps have formed on either side, like human shoulders, pushing. With the passing of years many people have visited this spot and viewed this wonder with mingled feelings. All have been impressed with the unusual circumstances by which a grave which was to remain forever sealed, was torn open by a tiny seed. Unbelievers have sneered at the suggestion that any higher power was involved in the matter. Others, of a more serious nature, have seen in this occur- rence a fulfillment of that which was written by the prophets, that "the weak things of the world shall come forth and break down the mighty and strong ones." As I looked on this spectacle, I could not refrain from asking: "Oh Tree, from whom did you receive the incentive to put to shame the words of the haughty unbeliever?" As I looked upwards for an answer, I noticed that its topmost branches pointed toward heaven.