"To the man not utterly corrupt," one has written, "the thoughts which come by the grave of the dead fall like dew from heaven." This is true not only of the thoughts which come by the grave of one whom we have loved and lost awhile but also of those by the graves of the mighty men of God.
After much searching in the old cemetery of Plain Palais, at Geneva, I found the grave of John Calvin. Not far from the wall, it was covered with grass, and the shadows of the cypress tree above it were playing to and fro over the grave as if to remind one of the shadow brevity of human life. On the stone, hardly a foot high, are the letters "J. C."
Across the lake rises the costly and magnificent cenotaph of one of the dukes of Brunswick. But who today is the Duke of Brunswick? Who was he then? But the man whose initials are graven on that humble grave, in keeping with his theology which exalted God and humbled man, lives forever.