Earth's Easter (MCMXVI)

"Behold The Lamb"

EARTH'S EASTER (MCMXVI)
BY ROBERT HAVEN SCHAUFFLER

Earth has gone up from its Gethsemane,
And now on Golgotha is crucified;
The spear is twisted in the tortured side;
The thorny crown still works its cruelty.
Hark! while the victim suffers on the tree,
There sound through starry spaces, far and wide,
Such words as by poor souls in hell are cried:
"My God! my God! Thou hast forsaken me!"

But when Earth's members from the cross are drawn.
And all we love into the grave is gone.
This hope shall be a spark within the gloom:
That, in the glow of some stupendous dawn.
We may go forth to find, where lilies bloom,
Two angels bright before an empty tomb.

Color Retro Easter Characters

Description of Coloring Page: Easter lamb jumping a fence, a hip Easter chick dressed for a Easter Parade, and a retro Easter Bunny wearing a plaid Sunday blazer...

Don't forget to drag the png. or jpg into a Word Document and enlarge the image as much as possible before printing it folks. If you have a question about this coloring page, just type into the comment box located directly below this post and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can.

While It Is Yet Still Dark...

       Amid the confusion of the early records which tell about the great event which Easter celebrates one thing stands out very clear. No human eye saw the resurrection of Jesus or watched the inscrutable process. The Christian witnesses bore testimony only to the accomplished fact. The change from death to life culminated in the obscurity of the tomb. " While it was yet dark," there came, according to the most philosophical of the Gospels, anxious watchers who found the transformation already complete and the tomb empty. The darkness which shrouded the event is paralleled by the confusion and uncertainty of the conflicting testimony that has reached us. In fact the whole course of Christian beginnings lies shrouded in the mystery of indefiniteness and the shadows of the unknown.

       But all great beginnings are thus conditioned and surrounded. Man becomes conscious of the result long after the causes have apparently ceased to operate. He sees the product after the early stages of the process have receded into the dim past. Only the scantiest remains mark the pathway of early developments, and the highest intelligence is necessary to descry the scraps of evidence and by comparison and imagination reconstruct the methods and movements of these living forces.

       Nestled in the darkness of mother earth the seed takes on the new life which is first observed springing in vigor from the soil. Out of the mothering womb of time has come forth the human race through its various stages, progressing through barbarism, primitive civilization, and the historic era.

"Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark..."
Empty Tomb drawing from Christian Clip Art Review.

       Since man began to think upon the past he has evolved unnumbered theories of his beginning, and still to the most instructed the early stages in each onward course of development must be approached through a twilight that ends in darkness. The rude beginnings of his culture are buried beneath the rubbish heaps of time. The institutions of religion, home and government we know only in their higher forms. Language, art and thought can be studied in their monuments alone. The keenest and most critical investigations have only partially revealed the successive steps of Hebraism and the founding of Christianity. Those centuries in which directive forces were forming the incipient movements which have culminated in what we call western civilization are often termed the Dark Ages. On the whole we must conclude that the great forces operating in society and in life conceal their most significant phases, those phases which carry the greatest import for the future, from the contemporary eyes of men. We cannot " look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not." While it is yet dark the great movements of the future are being planned and the first steps toward the realization of the plans are being taken.

       Around us at this Easter time the darkness and confusion of human affairs are almost beyond parallel. A crisis in history has, no doubt, been reached. We seem to see not only the disruption of international and national life, but the clashing ideals of races, the spread and deepening of hatred and strife, the failure of human capacity for organization to hold in check the elemental passions and aspirations of mankind, and even the breakdown of Christianity itself.

       Nevertheless, the seeds of a new and grander future have doubtless been already sown. The ways of nature and human development lead us to expect that this is so. Life is positive, death is negative. The breakup and sloughing off of the old and outworn may appear as the darkness of dissolution, but the stirrings of a new life to result in a higher order are scarcely to be apprehended until the growth directed by the Unseen Mind has brought some reorganization out of the old chaos." Out of the cradle endlessly rocking " come the strength and wisdom that shape and advance the world's destinies. The patient, brooding spirit of man, inspired by hope and faith in the Divine Order, will yet bring to power and dominion the living principles of international brotherhood and service now obscured in the bitterness and darkness of war and racial strife. Future generations will surely say: "While it was yet dark" we discerned the birth throes of a new world order. by Charles E. Hesselgrave

• From The Village Church -  Racial Reconciliation - Matt Chandler, Racial Reconciliation - Anthony Moore,  Racial Reconciliation - Beau Hughes

I loved them so,

That when the Elder Shepherd of the fold

Came, covered with the storm, and pale and cold,

And begged for one of my sweet lambs to hold.

I bad Him go.

He claimed the pet-

A little fondling thing, that to my breast

Clung always, either in quiet or unrest-

I thought of all my lambs I loved him best,

And yet- and yet-

I laid him down

In those white, shrouded arms, with bitter tears;

For some voice told me that, in after years,

He should know naught of passion, grief or fears,

As I had known.

"The Third Nest"

The Third Nest: A Easter Story

      It was a late Easter and an early spring. The combination had brought the festival of the resurrection into the heart of the bloom and blossom of the season, instead of the bluster and the blow. The shadows were already heavy beneath the trees, though the tints of the leaves were still delicate. Long blooms hung from the horse chestnuts.

Kirche St. Martin in Zillis,
Kanton Graubünden.

      Out at the water works grounds, beds of flaming tulips broke the level green' Persian lilacs flung out the sweetness of their pinkish sprays, and the snow ball bushes were masses of cream-white. From neighboring grounds came the heavy odor of myriads of apple and peach blossoms, the apple trees almost purple with the density of their branches and blooms, the peach trees slender spears of pink. And, as a background, the glitter of Lake St. Clair, through the branches, until far off it melted into the sky.

      A boy with a dark, foreign face, delicate and refined in spite of his evident neglect and the associations of the street which the violin under his arm suggested--picturesque in the contrast-sat on a seat near a tulip bed. He was looking dreamily at the flowers. He loved them, and it was their attraction that held him there when he ought to have been playing his violin and earning something.

      The flowers made him think of the old cemetery behind St. Martin's church in Zuchvill, in Switzerland. There were so many flowers there that the tourists came from afar to visit it. All the headstones in that cemetery were alike-that was the village law-except one, a plain granite shaft, beneath which was buried the heart of Kosciusko. How often his father had taken him there and told him the story of Kosciusko. He looked at the glimmering strip of lake which he could see and tried to imagine that it was the Aare river, the beautiful Aare which flows through the valley north of Zuchvill.

      But the illusion was not good. Down on the bank of the Aare the violets grew thickly, and he knew there were none on the lake shore, for he had just looked to see; beyond the gleaming river there was the Weissenstein jutting out from the Jura mountains, stretching along the north, blue almost as the sky itself. There was no stretch of pine forest to the left either, and behind him no village nor beechwood-the beechwood where he and Marie used to gather beechnuts. Around him it was beautiful, but it was not the Zuchvill meadow. Oh, that meadow--there was something about the day that him feel like crying, and he had a queer, dizzy sense in his head. It could not be that he was hungry. A boy who has a good breakfast ought to have enough until supper time. He put his hand in his pocket and took out some change, only $1.22. His lodging, together with breakfast and supper, was $1.50. and today was Saturday. It must be that it was only thirst, so he went and got another drink. Then he resolutely drew his bow across the strings. Perhaps the policeman would let him play here a little while. There were a few visitors, he might make a few cents without leaving the dear flowers. Under the spell of the violin the illusions he had sought became clearer, the surroundings became more and more like Zuchvill.

      He remembered one never-to-be-forgotten time, when his father took him out for a little walk, his father, who lived in his memory as a great, big man, with a very black beard, and a voice like no other, so kind and so caressing.

      As they walked along, his father told him stories of Poland, beautiful, suffering Poland, from which he was exiled. Some day it should be free-then he would take his little son up in his arms and kiss him, telling him to try to be a great and good man some day, so he could help to free it. And they two had walked along the Zuchvill meadow together--it was in the spring of the year, when the little flowers bloomed everywhere and he had let go his father's hand to gather flowers. When he came back his father was lying on the ground, he thought asleep, so he lay beside him and slept, too. But there was a difference in their sleep.

      He had not forgotten a detail, for over and over his baby lips had to tell to his mother the last words of his father, and she in turn had told him the reason of the tragedy.

      They were trying new guns at Solothurn, the city of which Zuchvill was really a suburb. His father, who had been away for a few weeks, had not heard of the proposed experiment, and did not notice the signs marking danger line. Daily his mother reproached herself for not warning him, and daily, also, she told her boy of his father until the memory of him became an ideal than which there could be none better.

      After his father's death his mother and he had gone to live at the inn, "Die Schnepfe." She was his teacher in all things and his companion. She loved the violin and she taught him to love it. The little Marie, the child of the innkeeper, was his playmate and fellow student. His mother left, just enough, by saving, to send him to school so that he might become a great man, as his father had wished.

      They lived there a long, long time, and it all was a long time ago. So it seemed to him, yet he was but twelve; and they might have lived on there forever, he and his good mamma, if it had not been for her brother. Here the boy gave his bow a vicious jerk. His mamma had been rich, but her brother had done something with her money, and even after that he would send her letters that made her cry. Here brother was in America, and one day she said they must go to him. When they came to New York her brother was in the hospital, his mother said, and cried. After a while he died. He knew now that it had been the prison hospital. When he wanted to go back his mother said she had no money. Then she had tried to get work to do, and they had lived in a little room in a big building, on a dirty street, nothing like the beautiful Zuchvill, yet it was good enough, so long as his mother lived.
       But she became ill and he sold papers and between times played his violin on the streets. His mother had said that it was begging, but when your mother is ill, what will you do? So he went on playing and did not tell her.
      When she was dying she had told him to remember his father's example and to be true to his faith and his country. She told him it would be better to leave the great wicked city, now that he was alone, and go to Detroit. She had heard that there were many Poles there. Besides, she wanted her boy to grown up where he could sometimes see trees and grass and sky.
      So he played his way to Detroit. It was only six weeks since his mother's death, but it seemed very long since then.
      He played on, Polish airs and Swiss melodies. He knew little American music. The Americans have no songs, he thought they do not need them. Only those who have no country and no father and no mother, who are hungry and homeless, can sing; or, if they have beautiful hills and mountains, as in Switzerland, to echo back the yodels, they might sing for joy.
      Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a little shadow edging steadily nearer. The shadow had curls, a broad hat and skirts, and then another smaller shadow in knickerbockers crept near it. The boy turned his head a little. It might have been Marie of 'Die Schnepfe," at whom he was looking, for just so he remembered her as she was when he and his mother came to America. He had been playing life into his memories, and the fancy seized him to make believe that this little girl was his old playmate. He smiled a little to reassure her for his sudden turn, and she, on her part, came a little nearer and leaned comfortably against a tree opposite him.
      Then he began playing a little song which he and Marie used to sing. It was in the Swiss dialect and composed by a friend of his mother's. It belonged to Zuchvill, and to no other place as much as did the meadow and the beechwood and the view of the Weissenstein.
      The girl's little brother toddled in between them, his brow in a puzzled pucker as he looked at the violin from different points. But Brunislav looked at her eyes across the little fellow's head and played and sang with all his soul. At the end of the stanza he broke out into a joyous yodel, and the girl yodelt too, high and clear. He was making believe that she was Marie and he feared to break the spell if he asked her questions, so he sang the next stanza--this time she sang it all with him.
      There was a bond between them now, and he laid down his violin and asked in the Swiss dialect:
      "Where did you learn that?"
      "From father," she answered.
      "Does he come from Zuchvill?"
      The little girl nodded.
      "Were you ever there?"
      She shook her head. Her mother's injunction against speaking to strangers was severe, and she was shy. It puzzled her to decide whether this boy who sang her father's song was a stranger or not. She hesitated, with the usually fatal results. The lonely and homesick Brunislav kept on talking and she answered less timidly each time.
      "Did your father ever tell you about Kosciusco's heart?"
      She shook her head.
      Brunislav looked incredulous. She seemed far less like Marie than a few minutes ago.
      "Did he ever tell you about the Weissenstein?"
      She nodded. That was better, he thought.
      "Did he ever tell you about the convent down by Solothurn, where the children used to find the Easter eggs in the nests on Easter Sunday morning, and where they used to give us Easter cakes baked like little lambs?"
      She shook her head. "But," she said, "Franzi," pointing to her brother, "and I build nests and mother bakes the Easter lamb cakes for us. Does your mother bake any for you?"
      "I have no mother?"
      "Oh," said the girl, and thought awile.
      Bruinslav started the conversation again by asking, "And do you go out early Easter morning to whistle for the hare that lays the Easter eggs?"
      "No, we wake up too late; father whistles instead."
      Brunislav smiled a superior smile. He was twelve and she was eight, and he had a better idea who put the Easter eggs into the nests than she had.
      She went on: "Franzi and I came over here to see if we could find some nice, green moss for our nests."
      "I'll help you," said Brunislav.
      "Do you build nests, too?"
      "No."
      "Why not?"
      Brunislav tried to think of an answer that would not reveal his lack of faith in the mythical hare.
      "I have no place," he said, at last.
      " I will let you make a nest in our yard," said the girl. "Maybe the hare will find it there, if you put your name in it."
      He did not know what to say, so he was silent.
      "Don't you want to?" she asked, aggrieved.
      "I will if you want me to," he answered, gallantly. By the time they had found the mosses and returned to their home Franzi was hungry, so the girl took him into the house for a lunch. A few minutes later she came back with him, a cookie in each of his hands. Brunislav was still telling himself that he was thirsty, but it was very hard to do so and watch Franzi eating. Women are quick, even in miniature. The little girl ran back into the house and returned with several cookies and divided with him.
      The extra number of cookies consumed made her scrupulous again as to what her mother would say if she knew, and she wanted to hurry her guest.
      "I'll build your nest," she said. From the depths of her pocket she produced a stubby pencil and a bit of druggist's blue wrapping paper. "Write your name on this, she said, as if conferring a special honor in the color, "and I'll put it in the nest for you. When you come tomorrow morning sing "Am Morga Frueh.' Father likes that," she added, with feminine finesse.
      "Is you name Marie?" he asked.
      "Yes," she said.
      Some latent instinct of chivalry made the boy take her little hand and kiss it. Then he went away.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

      On Easter morning John Kulle, Marie's father, with a basket of bright-colored eggs on his arm, was looking for the nests constructed by Marie and Franzi.
      He found each with a label in Marie's very primitive handwriting. But close by there was a third. Strange, of what were the children thinking? He picked up the bit of blue paper, and the name on it gave him a creepy sensation.
      Brunislav Bernaski!"
      He had a European respect for the nobility, and Brunislav Bernascki, though that of a landless and exiled man, was a great name in Zuchvill fifteen years before. Moreover, he had heard of the accident and death.
      He went into the front yard and nervously investigated the lilac bushes, until such time when Marie should get up and he could watch developments.
      Presently there rang out, high and jubilant, "Am Morga Frueh," with its joyous yodel. Surely this was supernatural.
      Later, when Marie got up, she found her friend of yesterday talking earnestly to her father. He staid to breakfast and came back after mass, and staid to dinner and to supper, and the next day he went to work for her father, who owned a flourishing bakery, and stayed at their house for good, to Marie's delight.
      The teachings of his father and mother had been too stern to turn him only to music, and Brunislav is studying law. If he cannot free Poland, he can be the friend of his people in this country. Will he marry Marie? Probably. for The Saint Paul Daily Globe by Eugene Uhlrich, 1896

The Man Who Personified My Grandparent's Generation

      George Beverly Shea (February 1, 1909 – April 16, 2013) was a Canadian-born American gospel singer and hymn composer. Shea was often described as "America's beloved Gospel singer" and was considered "the first international singing 'star' of the gospel world," as a consequence of his solos at Billy Graham Crusades and his exposure on radio, records, and television. Because of the attendance at Graham's Crusades, Shea has sung live before more people than anyone in history. Read more . . .

"George Beverly Shea, long-time friend and ministry partner to evangelist Billy Graham, passed away April 16, 2013 at age 104. This video looks back at his life and legacy.
For more memories visit: http://www.georgebeverlysheamemorial.org"

• George Beverly Shea at the Internet Movie Database
• "America's Beloved Gospel Singer"
• Song/Ministry links
• Obituary Press Release from the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, 2013.04.16

Folding The Lambs In His Bosom.

       The Savior folds a lamb in His bosom. The little child filled all the house with her music, and her toys are scattered all up and down the stairs just as she left them. What if the hand that plucked four o'clocks out of the meadow it still? It will wave in the eternal triumph. What if the voice that made music in the home is still? It will sing the eternal hosanna. Put a white rose in one hand, and a red rose in the other hand, and a wreath of orange blossoms on the brow; the white flower for the victory, the red flower for the Savior's sacrifice, the orange blossoms for her marriage day. Anything ghastly about that? Oh, no. The sun went down and the flower shut. The wheat threshed out of the straw. "Dear Lord, give me sleep," said a dying boy, the son of one of my elders, "dear Lord, give me sleep," And he closed his eyes and awoke in glory. Henry W. Longfellow writing a letter of condolence to those parents, said: "Those last words were beautifully poetic." And Mr. Longfellow knew what is poetic. "Dear Lord give me sleep."

"'Twas not in cruelty, not in wrath

That the reaper came that day;

'Twas an angel that visited the earth

And took the flower away."

       So it may be with us when our work is all done. "Dear Lord give me sleep." Talmage

Goodbye, Maytime; Hello, June!

Illustrated May Pole dance by Nell Brinkley.

       May's a jolly month, fresh out of her skins and winter burrow; she means primroses and woolly lambs and the end of misty rains; blue scrubbed skies with cottony clouds floating over, the far-coming of the pop-corn man; she's the wild maid in the story who burns winter's thongs away from your wrists and lets you out  into the sun again when you thought you'd die in darkness and cold, an yet when she goes we don't cry! That's because a lovelier lady follows--June. When Maytime slips out of our gate, looking back over her delicate shoulders, her primrose garments fluttering their last until another year; in at the same gate, brushing her very robe, golden and warmly scented and loaded with flowers, against pale May, comes June--singing, snapping her fingers, more tender of sky and air, mocking, bringing warm waters for the body that would a-swimming go, merry of eye, rich in color, May's lovelier sister.

      May promises things and gives us a peek at them--but June comes with a magic sack and an open palm.

      So that is why we dance May in and out again, and laugh at her farewell fete! by Nell Brinkley.

Anna's Easter Dream by Louise Cooper

When little Anna went to sleep

Upon the eve of Easter day

She dreamed of candied eggs a heap

And frisky, brisky lambs at play.

Plump Humpty Dumpty, with a bow,

Stood smiling on the counterpane,

And Ducky Daddles, wondering how,

Was at the foot just to explain.

Three baby ducks in noisy play,

Who never thought to pardon beg.

Cried "Quack, quack, quack for Easter day!"

And then tobogganed down an egg.

A rooster and a hen on nest

Exclaimed, "Please put us in the rhyme,

for we are doing our level best

In working up the Easter time!"

five bunnies, each with eyes of pink

And ears so long they flapped like wings,

Said, "We are not considered bad.

And, don't forget, we're little too."

five sparrows, proud of their wee size--

They never grow too broad or tall--

Chirped, "We should surely win a prize,

for we are littlest of them all."

Two tiny men from Titakum,

With good strong arm and sturdy leg,

Held steady as a block o fgum

A large and glowing rainbow egg:

There, standing on it like a queen.

With rosy lips and roguish eye.

In pink and gold and bronze and green,

The girly, curly butterfly.

by Louise Cooper

Jesus Was The Messiah...and Still Is!

"You have not chosen me. I have chosen you."

      Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ or Messiah promised under the Old Testament. That he professed himself to be that Messiah to whom all the prophets gave witness, and who was, in fact, at the time of his appearing, expected by the Jews; and that he was received under that character by his disciples, and by all Christians ever since, is certain. And if the Old Testament Scriptures afford sufficiently definite marks by which the long-announced Christ should be infallibly known at his advent, and these presignations are found realized in our Lord, then is the truth of his pretensions established. From the books of the Old Testament we learn that the Messiah was to authenticate his claim by miracles; and in those predictions respecting him, so many circumstances are recorded, that they meet only in one person; and so, if they are accomplished in him, they leave no room for doubt, as far as the evidence of prophecy is deemed conclusive. As to Miracles, we refer to that article; here only observing, that if the miraculous works wrought by Christ were really done, they prove his mission, because, from their nature, and having been wrought to confirm his claim to be the Messiah, they necessarily imply a divine attestation. With respect to Prophecy, the principles under which its evidence must be regarded as conclusive will be given under that head; and here therefore it will only be necessary to show the completion of the prophecies of the sacred books of the Jews relative to the Messiah in one person, and that person the Founder of the Christian religion.

      The time of the Messiah's appearance in the world, as predicted in the Old Testament, is defined, says Keith, by a number of concurring circumstances, which fix it to the very date of the advent of Christ, 

Gen. 49: 10. ^"The scepter will not depart from Judah, nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until he to whom it belongs shall come and the obedience of the nations shall be his."

Mal. 3: 1. “I will send my messenger, who will prepare the way before me. Then suddenly the Lord you are seeking will come to his temple; the messenger of the covenant, whom you desire, will come,” says the Lord Almighty.
Hag. 2: 7. "For thus saith the Lord of hosts; Yet once, it is a little while, and I will shake the heavens, and the earth, and the sea, and the dry land;"
Dan. 9: 24, 25. “Seventy ‘sevens’ are decreed for your people and your holy city to finish transgression, to put an end to sin, to atone for wickedness, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal up vision and prophecy and to anoint the Most Holy Place. ²⁵ “Know and understand this: From the time the word goes out to restore and rebuild Jerusalem until the Anointed One, the ruler, comes, there will be seven ‘sevens,’ and sixty-two ‘sevens.’ It will be rebuilt with streets and a trench, but in times of trouble.
Isa. 40: 3-11.  A voice of one calling: “In the wilderness prepare the way for the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain. And the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all people will see it together. For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.” A voice says, “Cry out.” And I said, “What shall I cry?” “All people are like grass, and all their faithfulness is like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the Lord blows on them. Surely the people are grass. The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever.” You who bring good news to Zion, go up on a high mountain. You who bring good news to Jerusalem, lift up your voice with a shout, lift it up, do not be afraid; say to the towns of Judah, “Here is your God!” See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power, and he rules with a mighty arm. See, his reward is with him, and his recompense accompanies him. He tends his flock like a shepherd:  He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.

"and I appointed you to produce good fruit
from the lives that you live, fruit that will
last." John 15:16

The plainest inference may be drawn from these prophecies. All of them, while, in every respect, they presuppose the most perfect knowledge of futurity; while they were unquestionably delivered and publicly known for ages previous to the time to which they referred; and while they refer to different contingent and unconnected events, utterly undeterminable and inconceivable by all human sagacity; accord in perfect unison to a single precise period where all their different lines terminate at once, --the very fullness of time when Jesus appeared. A king then reigned over the Jews in their own land; they were governed by their own laws; and the council of their nation exercised its authority and power. Before that period, the other tribes were extinct or dispersed among the nations. Judah alone remained, and the last sceptre in Israel had not then departed from it. Every stone of the temple was then unmoved; it was the admiration of the Romans, and might have stood for ages. But in a short space, all these concurring testimonies to the time of the advent of the Messiah passed away. During the very yea, the twelfth of his age, in which Christ first publicly appeared in the temple, Archelaus the king was dethroned and banished; Coponius was appointed procurator; and the kingdom of Judea, the last remnant of the greatness of Israel, was debased into a part of the province of Syria. The sceptre was smitten from the tribe of Judah; the crown fell from their heads; their glory departed; and, soon after the death of Christ, of their temple one stone was not left upon another; their commonwealth itself became as complete a ruin, and was broken in pieces; and they have ever since been scattered throughout the world, a name but not a nation. After the lapse of nearly four hundred years posterior to the time of Malachi, another prophet appeared who was the herald of the Messiah. And the testimony of Josephus confirms the account given in Scripture of John the Baptist. Every mark that denoted the time of the coming of the Messiah was erased soon after the crucifixion of Christ, and could never afterwards be renewed. And with respect to the prophecies of Daniel, it is remarkable, at this remote period, how little discrepancy of opinion has existed among the most learned men, as to the space from the time of the passing out of the edict to rebuild Jerusalem, after the Babylonish captivity, to the commencement of the Christian era, and the subsequent events foretold in the prophecy.
      The predictions contained in the Old Testament respecting both the family out of which the Messiah was to arise, and the place of his birth, are almost as circumstantial, and are equally applicable to Christ, as those which refer to the time of his appearance. He was to be an Israelite, of the tribe of Judah, of the family of David, and of the town of Bethlehem. That all these predictions were fulfilled in Jesus Christ; that he was of that country, tribe, and family, of the house and lineage of David, ad born in Bethlehem, we have the fullest evidence in the testimony of all the evangelists; in two distinct accounts of the genealogies, by natural and legal succession, which, according to the custom of the Jews, were carefully preserved; in the acquiescence of  the enemies of Christ in the truth of the fact, against which there is not a single surmise in history; and in the appeal made by some of the earliest Christian writers to the unquestionable testimony of the records of the census, taken at the very time of our Savior's birth by order of Caesar. Here, indeed, it is impossible not to be struck with the exact fulfillment of prophecies which are apparently contradictory and irreconcilable, and with the manner in which they were providentially accomplished. The spot of Christ's nativity was distant from the place of the abode of his parents, and the region in which he began his ministry was remote from the place of his birth; and another prophecy respecting him was in this manner verified:

Isaiah 9:1.2."In the land of Zebulun and Naphtali, by the way of the sea beyond Jordan, in Galilee of the nations, the people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined," Isaiah 9:1.2. 
Matt. 4:16. "the people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.”

Thus, the time at which the predicted Messiah was to appear; the nation, the tribe, and the family from which he was to be descended; and the place of his birth,--no populous city, but of itself an inconsiderable place, --were all clearly foretold; and as clearly refer to Jesus Christ; and all meet their completion in him.

      But the facts of his life, and the features of his character, are also drawn with a precision that cannot be misunderstood. The obscurity, the meanness, and the poverty of his external condition are represented,

Isa. 53: 2. ^"He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him."
Isa. 49: 7. "This is what the Lord says - the Redeemer and Holy One of Israel—
to him who was despised and abhorred by the nation, to the servant of rulers: “Kings will see you and stand up, princes will see and bow down, because of the Lord, who is faithful, the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you.”
His riding in humble triumph into Jerusalem; his being betrayed for thirty pieces of silver, and scourged, and buffeted, and spit upon; the piercing of his hands and of his feet; the last offered draught of vinegar and gall; the parting of his raiment, and the casting lots upon his vesture; the manner of his death and of his burial, and his rising again without seeing corruption, were all expressly predicted, and all these predictions were literally fulfilled,
Zech. 9:9. Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. " and in 11:12. ^"I told them, “If you think it best, give me my pay; but if not, keep it.” So they paid me thirty pieces of silver. ¹³ And the Lord said to me, “Throw it to the potter”—the handsome price at which they valued me! So I took the thirty pieces of silver and threw them to the potter at the house of the Lord.^"
Isaiah 1:6. “Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness and who seek the Lord: Look to the rock from which you were cut and to the quarry from which you were hewn;
² look to Abraham, your father, and to Sarah, who gave you birth. When I called him he was only one man, and I blessed him and made him many.
³ The Lord will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins; he will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing.
⁴ “Listen to me, my people; hear me, my nation: Instruction will go out from me; my justice will become a light to the nations.
⁵ My righteousness draws near speedily, my salvation is on the way, and my arm will bring justice to the nations. The islands will look to me and wait in hope for my arm.
⁶ Lift up your eyes to the heavens, look at the earth beneath;
the heavens will vanish like smoke, the earth will wear out like a garment and its inhabitants die like flies. But my salvation will last forever, my righteousness will never fail.
Psalm 22: 16. ^" Dogs surround me, a pack of villains encircles me; they pierce my hands and my feet. and 69: 21. ^" They put gall in my food and gave me vinegar for my thirst."  and 22: 18. "They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment."
Isaiah 53: 9. ^"And they made His grave with the wicked—But with the rich at His death, Because He had done no violence, Nor was any deceit in His mouth."
Psalm 16: 10. "because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead, nor will you let your faithful one see decay.^"

If all these prophecies admit of any application to the events of the life of any individual, it can only be to that of the Author of Christianity. And what other religion can produce a single fact which was actually foretold of its founder?

      The death of Christ was as unparalleled as his life; and the prophecies are as minutely descriptive of his sufferings as of his virtues. Not only did the paschal lamb, which was to be killed every year in all the families of Israel, which was to be taken out of the flock, to be with out blemish, to be eaten with bitter herbs, to have its blood sprinkled, and to be kept whole that not a bone of it should be broken; not only did the offering up of Isaac, and the lifting up of the brazen serpent in the wilderness, by looking upon which the people were healed, and many ritual observances of the Jews, prefigure the manner of Christ's death, and the sacrifice which was to be made for sin; but many express declarations abound in the prophecies, that Christ was indeed to suffer. But Isaiah, who describes, with eloquence worthy of a prophet, the glories of the kingdom that was to come, characterizes, with the accuracy of an historian, and the humiliation, the trials, and the agonies which were to precede the triumphs of the Redeemer of a world; and the history of Christ forms, to the very letter, the commentary and the completion of his every prediction. In a single passage, (Isaiah 53: 13, &c. 53.) the connection of which is uninterrupted, its antiquity indisputable, and its application obvious, the sufferings of the servant of God (who, under that same denomination, is previously described as he who was to be the light of the Gentiles, the salvation of God to the ends of the earth, and the elect of God in whom his soul delighted, Isaiah 42: 10. 49: 6.) are so minutely foretold, that no illustration is requisite to show that they testify of Jesus. The whole of this prophecy thus refers to the Messiah. It describes both his debasement and his dignity; his rejection by the Jews; his humility, his affliction, and his agony; his magnanimity and his charity; how his words were disbelieved; how his state was lowly; how his sorrow was severe; how he opened not his mouth but to make intercession for the transgressors. In diametrical opposition to every dispensation of Providence which is registered in the records of the Jews, it represents spotless innocence suffering by the appointment of Heaven; death as the issue of perfect obedience; God's righteous servant as forsaken of him; and one who was perfectly immaculate bearing the chastisement of may guilty; sprinkling many nations from their iniquity, by virtue of his sacrifice; justifying many by his knowledge; and dividing a portion with the great and the spoil with the strong, because he hath poured out his soul in death. This prophecy, therefore, simply as a prediction prior to the event, renders the very unbelief of the Jews an evidence against them, converts the scandal of the cross into an argument in favor of Christianity, and presents us with an epitome of the truth, a miniature of the gospel in some of its most striking features. The simple exposition of it sufficed at once for the conversion of the eunuch of Ethiopia. To these prophecies may, in fact, be added all those which relate to his spiritual kingdom, or the circumstances of the promulgation, the opposition and the triumphs of his religion; the accomplishment of which equally proves the divine mission of its Author, and points him out as that great personage with whom they stand inseparably connected.

• How to find The Messiah... "In The Beginning, God..."
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"The Little Lamb" tract

      The Religious Tract Society, founded 1799, 56 Paternoster Row and 65 St. Paul's Chuchyard, was the original name of a major British publisher of Christian literature intended initially for evangelism, and including literature aimed at children, women, and the poor.

      The RTS is also notable for being the publisher of the Boys' Own Paper and Girl's Own Paper.

      The founders were of the same type of evangelicals who founded the London Missionary Society and the British and Foreign Bible Society, for example David Bogue.

      The society started by publishing tracts, but rapidly expanded their work into the production of books and periodicals. Their books were mostly small but did include larger works such as the multi-volume Devotional Commentary and the massive Analytical Concordance to the Bible of Robert Young.

      From the 1860s, the Society began publishing novels aimed at women and children, providing a platform for a new generation of women writers, including Rosa Nouchette Carey. 

      In 1935 the RTS merged with the Christian Literature Society for India and Africa to form the United Society for Christian Literature (USCL). In 1931, there was a change of imprint to Lutterworth Press for all RTS publications intended for the home market.

Cover of the tract.

 The Little Lamb

Showing how it wandered, how it suffered, and how it was saved by the Good Shepherd.

London: The Religious Tract Society

The Little Lamb.

* * * *

      A friend of children, who loves them very much, one day went to see a school of infant orphans. He had been to visit them before, and had talked with them, and they knew him again. When he came into the schoolroom, their eyes looked bright, and they were very glad that he was come once more. Then they marched in a row, and went into another room, where there was a gallery, on which they were soon seated.

      Their friend talked to them kindly. He asked them about many things. He spoke to them about the Bible, and the good and true things in it. He gave them some short rhymes and verses, of which they were very fond, and they said them after him. He then told them some little stories about children, and about good men and women, and about many things which God had made and given to us. There was one story that pleased them very much, and as other children may like it too it is put in print that they also may know what he said about it.

A young shepherd by plays of flute while watching a flock of sheep.

 

 The Little Lamb

Showing how it wandered, how it suffered, and how it was saved by the Good Shepherd.

   
      There was a Little Lamb that lived in a very beautiful green field, 

Where flowers blow, and streams flow. 

      He was under the care of a very kind Shepherd, and was kept quiet safe. The little lamb ran about among the grass and played there, glad and happy. There were many other lambs, and they were never angry, they never hurt each other; but they all lived in peace and love.

      One day the little lamb of which we speak ran away from the rest, and went to the end of the field. All round it there was a bank and a hedge, to keep the flock from going astray. The little lamb went up to the top of the bank, and looked through the hedge. Everything seemed very pretty on the other side; there were many fine plants and the  

The little lamb leaves his flock.

birds were singing in the trees, and there was a large broad path that seemed to lead to some green fields beyond.

      For many days the little lamb went to the bank, and looked through the hedge. Then he did not seem so pleased as before with his own field, 

Where flowers grow, and streams flow;

but he wanted to go on the other side, and to run in the broad path.

      After some time, he looked about along the hedge to try and find a hole through which he might creep, and then go just a little way on the other side, and soon run back again. After looking a long time he found a hole in the hedge. He put in his nose, and then his neck, and then part of his body, when a sharp thorn give him a prick on the breast that covered it with blood. He pushed it aside, and went further in, when many thorns pricked his face, and his back, and his feet, and made his eyes almost blind. He ought to have gone back, but he saw a place where the hedge seemed thinner, and he pushed towards it. It was hard work; the wool on his back was torn, and he was hurt all over; but at last he got through the hedge to the other side. He now seemed glad, and rested on the grass, and heard the birds sing, and looked 

The lamb sees a storm brewing.

round and saw what a wide country there was all around, where he could rove about from place to place.

      The little lamb then rose, and went into the broad way: he found that it led into many other paths, and he ran on into one and another, and into a great many more paths. He seemed glad for a time, but as the sun was setting he wanted to get back again to the field,

Where flowers blow, and streams flow.

So he tried to find his way back again, but the more he went from one path to another he seemed to get further and further away. He was quite lost, lost. He then lay down under a tree, for he was very tired, and oh! how he wished that he had never gone astray! Then it began to get dark. The clouds were very heavy, and the rain fell fast, and a great storm came on. The lightening began to flash, and the thunder to roar, and the limbs of the little lamb shook with fear. The tree under which he lay was struck by the lightning: 

he was only just able to run away before it came down upon the place where he had rested. Some of the branches fell on his back as he was going away, and gave him great pain.

     The little lamb now ran into a thick wood, and tried to find shelter there. The night soon came on; not a star was to be seen; all was dark, dark. The lamb was cold and wet, hungry and weak. He knew not where to go or what to do.

      In the dark night the little lamb heard the cries of wild beasts. Then a great lion roared aloud, and came nearer and nearer. He saw the little lamb and soon came near to him. Oh! how did he shake with fear! He rose and tried to run away, the lion was about to spring on him, when, lo! the little lamb fell down into a deep and narrow pit. The lion stood over the pit and roared and lashed his tail. The lamb fell to the bottom of the pit, among thorns, and mud, and creeping things. Oh! how did he suffer! His wool was torn and dirty, his body was full of pain, and the lion was

near him. There the lamb lay, and his cries became more and more faint, and he seemed ready to die.

      While the lamb was going astray, the kind Shepherd, on walking round the field, missed him. He saw the foot-marks, and found the hole in the hedge, and some of the wool left there, and knew the sad state of his little lamb. He then took his crook in one hand, and a lamp in the other, and went after the lost one. When he came into the dark wood he stopped, for he heard the faint cries of the little lamb. He then ran to the pit. The lion saw him and his lamp, and turned round an ran  away, for he was afraid of the Shepherd. The cries of the little lamb had almost died away when the Shepherd came near. By the light of his lamp he saw the lamb, and spoke kindly to him. Then with his rod and with his crook he drew the little lamb out of the dirty pit.

      The kind Shepherd then took the little lamb, and washed him quite clean, and put oil on his wounds, and bound them up, and took him up in his arms and carried him in his bosom. Oh! how happy was the little lamb now! When he heard the lion and the wild beasts roar, he clung

the closer and closer to the arm and the heart of the kind Shepherd, who bore him back to the field,

Where flowers blow, and streams flow.

      Now the little lamb no more wished to go astray. He loved to keep near the Good Shepherd, and was safe and happy in his fold.

* * * *

      When the kind friend who had thus spoke to the children had done, he and they had a great deal to say to each other. He first of all asked them "Who is like the little lamb?" Several said, "We are sir." He stopped as if he wanted some other answer, when at last a little girl added, "I am sir." He then said, "That is right, every one should feel that he or she has gone astray like the little lamb." Then he taught them, a line at a time, to say this text after him:

"All we like sheep have gone astray;

We have turned every one to his own way;

And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all."

      "Yes," said he, "Jesus Christ bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that is, the cross. Oh! how we ought to love Him who saw us going astray, and came to seek and to save the lost."

      Then they talked about the naughty ways of the little lamb. How he wanted to get out of the field. How he would not go back when the thorns pricked him; like children, who know what is right and do what is wrong. And of the lion, and the text which says, that Satan, "as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." And of the cries of the little lamb, and how the kind Shepherd was so quick to hear him, and how the true Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ, is always ready to hear all who pray to Him.

Satan, "as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."

      Then their friend asked who was like the kind Shepherd, when many little tongues said, "Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd." "Yes," he said "you are quite right; and now say these words again after me.

"He shall feed his flock like a shepherd;

He shall gather the lambs with his arm,

And carry them in his bosom." --Isaiah 40:11

      The little orphans said these words over and over again. Then their kind friend said, "Yes, my dear children, Jesus is the Good Shepherd; and you all know how he took little children in His arms, and put His hands on them, and blessed them. And He is now ready to bless you, my dears. He is as kind now, He is in heaven as when on earth. And let us never forget that Jesus Christ said, "I am the Good Shepherd: the Good Shepherd giveth His life

The Good Shepherd carries his lost little lamb.

for the sheep," John 10: 11. And He did give up His life on the cross to save us. We must believe on Him, love Him, and obey Him.

      "Now let me add, that Christ, after He had died for us and rose again, and before He went back to heaven, said unto Peter, "Feed my lambs." Oh! how kind He was! Oh! how kind He is! How we should love Him!

      "Now, my dear children. I have been trying to feed you little lambs before me, and to lead you into green pastures and beside the still waters, so I hope you will all try to think of what I have said and taught you from the Bible."

      It was past school-time, and play-time was come, but the dear little children wanted their friend to stay longer: he did so; and they had much to say to one another. As he left the room, the eyes and faces of the little ones seemed to say, "We hope, sir, you will come to see us again.   

Jesus welcomes the little children.

The 

Green Pastures.

"The Lord is my Shepherd;

I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul;

He leadeth me in the paths of righteouness for

His name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the

shadow of death.

I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me;

Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me."     

The Little Lamb.

O Lord, our Shepherd, deign to keep

Thy little lambs, Thy feeble sheep,

And when our feet would go astry,

Uphold the guide us in Thy way.

Our Shepherd Jesus, kindly gave

His precious life, the flock to save:

Oh may we hear and know His voice,

Ans in His love alone rejoice.

When faint and trembling with alarms,

Oh gather us within thine arms:

Kind Shepherd, on They gracious breast

The weakest lamb may safely rest.

Lead us to pastures rich and green.

Where Thy free bounties most are seen;   

There may Thy gentle waters roll,

To cheer and save the fainting soul.

Thus blest, though we should walk the vale

Where death's deep shadows will prevail,

We shall our heavenly Shepherd see,

His rod and staff our comfort be.

Surely Thy goodness and our praise

Shall fill up all our fading days;

Then dying, gather us above

              To Thy own fold, the heaven of love.