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possessed her. On herself, her husband, and the generations to follow, a shadow had fallen. It was the shadow of a great cloud, with its blackness of darkness. And the darkness was weighted with wrath. The gate was closed and bolted. And the closed gate was guarded by cherubim with flaming swords.
The passing years have numbered centuries, and again we see a woman bowing low before the gate of a grave in a garden. The gate is open. The guard has fled. This time the cherubim, with flashing eyes and glorious raiment, are within. The woman may enter if she will, but the One she seeks is not beyond the portal with the waiting angels. In truth, He is nearer than she knows; and while she weeps, He waits. The surprise and joy which attend faithful love make an old story in this world, and a charming story it is.
When man knows in part, he is eager to know in full. He is sure to make effort