didst thou recal those prophecies of Anna and Simeon concerning him; and all those supernatural works of his, the irrefragable proofs of his Godhead And, laying all these together, with the miserable infirmities of his Passion, how wert thou crucified with him! The care, that he took for thee in the extremity of his torments, could not chuse but melt thy heart into sor row but oh, when, in the height of his pain and misery thou heardst him cry out, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? what a cold horror possessed thy soul! I cannot now wonder, at thy qualms and swoonings: I could rather wonder, that thou survivedst so sad an hour. But when, recollecting thyself, thou sawest the heavens to bear a part with thee in thy mourning, and feltest the earth to tremble no less than thyself, and foundst that the dreadful concussion of the whole frame of nature proclaimed the Deity of him that would thus suffer and die, and rememberedst his frequent predictions of drinking this bitter cup and of being baptized thus in blood; thou beganst to take heart, and to comfort thyself with the assured expectation of the glorious issue. More than once, had he foretold thee his victorious resurrection. He, who had openly professed Jonas for his type, and had fore-promised in three days to raise up the ruined Temple of his body, had doubtless given more full intimation unto thee, who hadst so great a share in that Sacred Body of his. The just shall live by faith. Lo, that faith of thine in his ensuing Resurrection, and in his triumph over death, gives thee life, and cheers up thy drooping soul, and bids it in a holy confidence to triumph over all thy fears and sorrows; and him, whom thou now seest dead and despised, represents unto thee living, immortal, glorious. Matthew xxvii. Mark xv. Luke xxiii. John xix.

THE RESURRECTION.

There is much senever eye saw. I

GRACE doth not ever make show, where it is. cret riches, both in the earth and sea, which never heard any news till now, of Joseph of Arimathea: yet was he eminently both rich, and wise, and good; a worthy, though close disciple of our Saviour. True faith may be wisely reserved, but will not be cowardly. Now he puts forth himself, and dares beg the body of Jesus.

Death is wont to end all quarrels. Pilate's heart tells him he hath done too much already, in sentencing an Innocent to death. No doubt, that centurion had related unto him the miraculous symptoms of that Passion. He, that so unwillingly condemned innocence, could rather have wished that just man alive, than have denied him dead.

The body is yielded, and taken down; and now, that, which hung naked upon the Cross, is wrapped in fine linen; that, which

THE RESURRECTION

was soiled with sweat and blood, is curiously washed and embalmed.

Now, even Nicodemus comes in for a part; and fears not the envy of a good profession. Death hath let that man loose, whom the law formerly overawed with restraint. He hates to be a nightbird any longer; but boldly flies forth, and looks upon the face of the sun; and will be now as liberal in his odours, as he was before niggardly in his confession.

O Saviour, the earth was thine and the fulness of it; yet, as thou hadst not a house of thine own while thou livedst, so thou hadst not a grave when thou wert dead. Joseph, that rich Councillor, lent thee his; lent it so, as it should never be restored. Thou tookest it but for a while; but that little touch of that Sacred Corpse of thine made it too good for the owner.

O happy Joseph, thou hadst the honour to be landlord of the Lord of Life! How well is thy house-room repaid, with a mansion not made with hands, eternal in the heavens! Thy garden and thy tomb were hard by Calvary, where thou couldst not fail of many monitions of thy frailty. How oft hadst thou seasoned that new tomb, with sad and savoury meditations! and hadst oft said within thyself, "Here I shall once lie down to my last rest, and should wait for my resurrection!" Little didst thou then think, to have been disappointed by so Blessed a guest; or that thy grave be again so soon empty, and in that emptiness incapable of any mortal indweller. How gladly dost thou now resign thy grave to him, in whom thou livest, and who liveth for ever; whose soul is in Paradise, whose Godhead every where! Hadst thou not been rich before, this gift had enriched thee alone; and more ennobled thee, than all thine earthly honour. Now great princes envy thy bounty; and have thought themselves happy, to kiss the stones of that rock, which thou thus hewedst, thus bestowedst.

Thus, purely wrapped and sweetly embalmed, lies the precious Body of our Saviour, in Joseph's new vault. Are ye now also at rest, O ye Jewish Rulers? Is your malice dead and buried with him? Hath Pilate enough served your envy and revenge? Surely, it is but a common hostility, that can die; yours surviveth death, and puts you upon a further project. The Chief Priests and Pharisees came together unto Pilate, saying, Sir, we remember that this Deceiver said while he was yet alive, After three days I will rise again: Command therefore that the sepulchre be made sure, till the third day; lest his disciples come by night, and steal him away, and say to the people, He is risen.

How full of terrors and inevitable perplexities is guiltiness! These men were not more troubled with envy at Christ alive, than And what can now with fear of his resurrection. them? Pilate had helped to kill him; but who shall keep him from rising ?

now secure

Wicked and foolish Jews! how fain would ye fight against God, and your own hearts! How gladly would ye deceive yourselves, in believing him to be a Deceiver, whom your consciences knew

to be no less true than powerful! Lazarus was still in your eye. That man was no phantasm. His death, his reviving, was undeniable. The so fresh resuscitation of that dead body, after four days dissolution, was a manifest conviction of Omnipotence. How do ye vainly wish, that he could deceive you, in the fore-reporting of his own resurrection! Without a Divine power, he could have raised neither Lazarus nor himself; with and by it, he could as well raise himself as Lazarus. What need we other witnesses, than your own mouths? That, which he would do, ye confess he foretold; that the truth of his word might answer the power of this deed, and both of them might argue him the God of Truth and Power, and yourselves enemies to both.

And now, what must be done? The sepulchre must be secured, and you with it. A huge stone, a strong guard, must do the deed; and that stone must be sealed, that guard of your own designing. Methinks, I hear the soldiers and busy officers, when they were rolling away that other weighty stone (for such we probably conceive) to the mouth of the vault with much toil and sweat and breathlessness, how they bragged of the sureness of the place and unremovableness of that load; and when that so choice a watch was set, how they boasted of their valour and vigilance, and said, they would make him safe from either rising or stealing.

Öh the madness of impotent men, that think by either wile or force to frustrate the will and designs of the Almighty! How justly doth that wise and powerful Arbiter of the World laugh them to scorn in heaven, and befool them in their own vain devices! O Saviour, how much evidence had thy Resurrection wanted, if these enemies had not been thus maliciously provident! How irrefra¬ gable is thy rising made, by these bootless endeavours of their prevention!

All this while, the devout Marys keep close; and silently spend their Sabbath, in a mixture of grief and hope. How did they wear out those sad hours, in bemoaning themselves each to other: in mutual relations of the patient sufferings, of the happy expiration of their Saviour; of the wonderful events, both in the heavens and earth, that accompanied his Crucifixion; of his frequent and clear predictions of his Resurrection! And now they have gladly agreed, so soon as the time will give them leave, in the dawning of the Sunday morning, to visit that dear sepulchre.

Neither will they go empty-handed she, that had bestowed that costly alabaster-box of ointment upon their Saviour alive, hath prepared no less precious odours for him dead.

Love is restless and fearless. In the dark of night, these good women go to buy their spices; and, ere the day-break, are gone out of their houses towards the tomb of Christ, to bestow them. This sex is commonly fearful: it was much for them, to walk alone in that unsafe season: yet, as despising all fears and dangers, they thus spend the night after their Sabbath. Might they have been allowed to buy their perfumes on the Sabbath, or to have visited that holy tomb sooner, can we think they would have staid

so long? Can we suppose they would have cared more for the Sabbath, than for the Lord of the Sabbath, who now kept his Sabbath in the grave? Sooner they might not come, later they would not, to present their last homage to their dead Saviour. Had these holy women known their Jesus to be alive, how had they hasted, who made such speed to do their last offices to his Sacred Corpse! For us, we know that our Redeemer liveth; we know where he is. O Saviour, how cold and heartless is our love to thee, if we do not haste to find thee in thy word and sacraments; if our souls do not fly up to thee, in all holy affections, into thy heaven!

Of all the women, Mary Magdalen is first named; and, in some Evangelists, alone. She is noted above her fellows. None of them were so much obliged; none, so zealously thankful. Seven devils were cast out of her, by the command of Christ. That heart, which was freed from Satan by that powerful dispossession, was now possessed with a free and gracious bounty to her Deliverer. Twice, at the least, hath she poured out her fragrant and costly odours upon him. Where there is a true sense of favour and beneficence, there cannot but be a fervent desire of retribution. O Blessed Saviour, could we feel the danger of every sin, and the malignity of those spiritual possessions from which thou hast freed us, how should we pour out ourselves into thankfulness unto thee!

Every thing here had horror. The place, both solitary and a sepulchre; nature abhors, as the visage, so the region of death and corruption: the time, night; only the moon gave them some faint glimmering; for this being the seventeenth day of her age, afforded some light to the latter part of the night: the business, the visitation of a dead corpse. Their zealous love hath easily overcome all these, They had followed him in his sufferings, when the disciples left him; they attended him to his Cross weeping; they followed him to his grave, and saw how Joseph laid him: even there, they leave him not; but, ere it be daylight, return to pay him the last tribute of their duty. How much stronger is love than death! O Blessed Jesu, why should not we imitate thy love to us? Those, whom thou lovest, thou lovest to the end; yea, in it; yea, after it: even when we are dead, not our souls only, but our very dust is dearly respected of thee. What condition of thine should remove our affections, from thy person in heaven, from thy limbs on earth?

Well did these worthy women know, what Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus had done to thee. They saw, how curiously they had wrapped thee, how preciously they had embalmed thee: yet, as not thinking others' beneficence could be any just excuse of theirs, they bring their own odours to thy sepulture, to be perfumed by the touch of thy Sacred Body, What thank is it to us, that others are obsequious to thee, while we are slack or niggardly? We may rejoice in others' forwardness; but if we rest in it, how small joy shall it be to us, to see them go to heaven without us!

When, on the Friday evening, they attended Joseph to the en

tombing of Jesus, they marked the place; they marked the passage; they marked that inner grave-stone, which the owner had fitted to the mouth of that tomb, which all their care is now to remove; Who shall roll away the stone? That other more weighty load wherewith the vault was barred, the seal, the guard set upon both, came not perhaps into their knowledge. This was the private plot of Pilate and the priests, beyond the reach of their thoughts.

I do not hear them say, "How shall we recover the charges of our odours?" or, "How shall we avoid the envy and censure of our angry Elders, for honouring him, whom the governors of our nation have thought worthy of condemnation?" The only thought they now take is, Who shall roll away the stone? Neither do they stay at home, and move this doubt; but, when they are well forward on their way, resolving to try the issue. Good hearts cannot be so solicitous for any thing under heaven, as for removing those impediments, which lie between them and their Saviour. Ŏ Blessed Jesu, thou, who art clearly revealed in heaven, art yet still both hid and sealed up from too many here on earth: neither is it some thin veil, that is spread between thee and them, but a huge stone; even a true stone of offence lies rolled upon the mouth of their hearts. Yea, if a second weight were superadded to thy grave here, no less than three spiritual bars are interposed betwixt them and thee above; idleness, ignorance, unbelief. Who shall roll away these stones, but the same power that removed thine? O Lord, remove that our ignorance, that we may know thee; our idleness, that we may seek thee; our unbelief, that we may find and enjoy thee.

How well it succeeds, when we go faithfully and conscionably about our work, and leave the issue to God! Lo, now God hath removed the cares of these holy women, together with the gravestone. To the wicked, that falls out, which they feared; to the godiy, that, which they wished and cared for, yea more. Holy cares ever prove well; the worldly dry the bones, and disappoint the hopes.

Could these good visitants have known of a greater stone sealed, of a strong watch set, their doubts had been doubled: now, God goes beyond their thoughts; and at once removes that, which both they did and might have feared. The stone is removed, the seal broken, the watch fled.

What a scorn doth the Almighty God make of the impotent designs of men! They thought, "The stone shall make the grave sure; the seal shall make the stone sure; the guard shall make both sure:" now, when they think all safe, God sends an angel from heaven above; the earth quakes beneath; the stone rolls away; the soldiers stand like carcases, and, when they have got heart enough to run away, think themselves valiant; the tomb is opened; Christ is risen; they, confounded. O the vain projects of silly men! as if, with one shovelfull of mire they would dam up the sea; or, with a clout hanged forth, they would keep the