The Resurrection of Christ.
By Thomas Guthrie
It is as the prelude of our own resurrection that Christ's is to us the object of the greatest satisfaction and joy. In these cast-off grave-clothes, in that linen shroud and napkin, there is more to draw our eyes and fix our interest and move our admiration, than in the jeweled robes or royal purple of the greatest monarch of earth. That empty tomb, roughly hewn in the rock, is a greater sight than Egypt's mighty pyramids, or the costliest sepulchers that have received the ashes of the proudest kings. How full of meaning is its very emptiness! What good news to us in Mary's disappointment! What joys flow to us in these women's tears! Thanks be to God, they could not find Him. He is not there. No, Mary, they have not taken away your Lord; no robber has rifled that sacred tomb. See, the dew lies sparkling on the grass, nor feet have brushed it but those of One who has left the grave. He is risen; and, as the first-fruits of them that sleep, as the first ripe sheaf that was offered to the Lord, His resurrection is the pledge and promise of a coming harvest. Henceforth the grave holds but a lease of the saints. Because He rose, we shall rise also.—Thomas Guthrie, D. D.*