And now His work on earth was done; the day was come for Him to return to the Father. The Eleven were again in Jerusalem, in the Upper Chamber sanctified by so many mysteries. St. Luke tells us that He appeared to them as they were at table. And eating together with them, He commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem, but should wait for the promise of the Father, which "you have heard," saith He, "by My mouth; for John indeed baptized with water, but you shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days hence."

And He led them out as far as Bethania. How they must have thought as they followed Him up the slope of Olivet, of that night six weeks ago when He had led them from the Supper Room through the streets of Jerusalem to the scene of His lonely Agony, the beginning of His Passion. Now His sufferings are over, and He is going up Olivet to mount thence to His Throne. They pass Gethsemane. The glory of the noonday sun is on the olive trees beneath whose shade He prayed that awful night. Here is the path down which they came on the day of palms when He wept over poor Jerusalem. Higher and higher they go, and now they stand on the summit. He looks around. To the north is Galilee and Nazareth and the Lake. Six miles to the south, Bethlehem and the Cave. At His feet Jerusalem; and over there, Calvary and the Sepulchre. He thinks of all the glory to His Father, all the treasure for us, the three and thirty years of His Life on earth have won, and His Heart is full of joy. "It is finished," was His last thought on Calvary; it is His last on Olivet.
The time is come for Him to leave the earth, but He is long in bidding it farewell. His Mother is close to Him, and, pressing round, are His dear disciples, glad now, because they love Him, that He is going to the Father. For each He has a last word, the word He knows will reach the heart and meet the needs of each, and keep up faith and hope and love unto the end. And He said to them:

"Go ye into the whole world and preach the Gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptised shall be saved, but He that believeth not shall be condemned. And these signs shall follow them that believe: In My Name they shall cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents; and if they shall drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover."

And after He had spoken to them, lifting up His hands, He blessed them. And, whilst He blessed them, He was raised up, and a cloud received Him out of their sight. And, while they were beholding Him, going up to Heaven, two men stood by them in white garments who said:

"Ye men of Galilee, why stand you looking up to Heaven? This Jesus, who is taken up from you into Heaven, shall so come as you have seen Him going into Heaven."

"And they adoring went back into Jerusalem with great joy." "And going forth they preached everywhere, the Lord working withal, and confirming the word with signs that followed."

We began this story of Jesus of Nazareth with the question of the persecutor Saul: "Who art Thou, Lord?" We end it with the cry of the heathen centurion, as, sore afraid, he stood in the noonday darkness beside the Cross:

"Indeed this Man was the Son of God!" This is the testimony borne by Heaven and earth and Hell itself to Jesus Christ. By the Angels singing in the midnight sky over Bethlehem. By the star that led wise men to His feet. By the Voice at His Baptism. By the winds and the waves of the stormy sea.

By the earth that gave up its dead at His word and shuddered beneath His Cross. It is the testimony of type and of prophecy, of His teaching, of His miracles, of His Resurrection and Ascension, of His divinely beautiful Character. It is the testimony of those who hated Him unto death and of the very devils themselves, as well as of those who in every age have loved Him and laid down their lives for Him with joy. It is the testimony of His Church to the end of time, of all who have eyes to see and ears to hear:

"Indeed this Man was the Son of God!"

Writing to his converts at Ephesus, St. Paul bade them hold fast the faith they had received, and beware of the false teachers who were come among them. As the soldiers of his time warded off an enemy's arrows by a shield that covered them from head to foot, so were these new Christians to "take the shield of faith wherewith to extinguish all the fiery darts of the most wicked one."

To you, the children of this twentieth century, the great Apostle would give the same solemn charge. There are men in these days who are trying to undo all that Jesus Christ has done, who deny whatever in His Life they cannot understand, and teach children that such facts as His Resurrection and Ascension could not have happened because they do not see how they happened. It is very wrong and very cruel thus to rob the little ones of their faith in Him who died to save them from sin and hell. Do not listen to such teaching. When men or women, companions, books or newspapers, would shake your faith in Jesus Christ—up, then, with the shield of faith:

"I believe in God the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ His only Son, our Lord." Cling to Jesus Christ. Let no one, let no thing separate you from Him. He alone, by His Precious Blood, can wash away your sins. He alone can comfort you when you are poor, or sick, or desolate. He alone can give you courage in the hour of trial, victory in temptation, and help in the awful hour of death.

When all desert you then, He will stand by you and keep you from harm if you have clung to Him all your life through as your Saviour and your Friend. Cover yourselves, then, with the shield of faith when danger threatens. Be glad that as children of the Holy Catholic Church you are preserved from the ignorance and the disbelief which is taking Jesus Christ out of the hearts and the lives of so many who are outside. Say to Him joyfully with Peter and with Martha:

"Thou art Christ the Son of the living God." And be not afraid to profess your faith boldly: Jesus is God! if on the earth this blessed faith decays, More tender must our love become, More plentiful our praise.

By your reverence in His Presence, by the frequency and the fervour of your Communions, by the observance of His Commandments and of the precepts of His Church, profess your faith in Him. And if at times it costs, as it most certainly will, to show yourselves the followers of Jesus Christ, look forward to that Day when He in His turn will confess you before the whole world. Remember that this Jesus, who has been taken up from us into Heaven, is to come again. Look forward to meeting Him with joy at His Second Coming, to being owned by Him then for one of His, according to His promise:

"He that shall confess Me before men, I will also confess him before My Father who is in Heaven and before the Angels of God."
 
                                                                     THE END

The darkness of that Sabbath night was just giving place to day. It was beginning to dawn towards the first day of the week. Within the sealed sepulchre all
was stillness and gloom, The mangled Body in its wrappings lay motionless, stiff and cold. Suddenly a blaze of glory filled the rocky chamber, and in the midst was Jesus, Jesus risen from the dead to die no more! The Soul had returned from Limbo and re-entered the Body, and He rose, Body and Soul reunited for ever, in a majesty and beauty befitting the Son of God.

He was the very same, but oh! how changed; all the marks of His suffering and humiliation gone, only in hands and feet and side five Wounds, not disfiguring, but glorifying Him by their dazzling beauty. As He rose by Llis own power, so by His own power He left the tomb; no angel rolled back the stone to let Him pass, but, with the subtility that belongs to a glorified body, He passed through, leaving the guards still sleeping and the seal untouched. But the next instant Jerusalem was shaken to its foundations by a great earthquake, for an Angel of the Lord descended from Heaven, and, coming, rolled back the stone and sat upon it. And his countenance was as lightning, and his raiment as snow. And for fear of him the guards were struck with terror and became as dead men. One, one only of those who believed in Him was preparing to welcome Him back from the grave. She who kept all His words, pondering them in her heart, held fast the promise: "and the third day He shall rise again." She knew He would return to her. She was counting the hours all that sad Saturday, and, when night fell, she was keeping watch and turning continually to the East for the first streaks of the coming day. We wonder, perhaps, that with hope such as hers sorrow could have been so crushing. But, whilst her Son was absent and the memory of His sufferings was allowed to overwhelm her, there could be no consolation for that stricken Mother. She could only make her acts of faith and hope, and wait patiently till He should come. And He came! More swiftly than the lightning flashing from East to West, He passed from His rocky
tomb to her chamber on Mount Sion, and as swiftly came the change in that desolate heart from midnight darkness to midday brightness and joy. The dawn was only breaking, the third day scarcely come, when He returned from the grave, eager to comfort those who mourned for Him, and His Mother first of all. The Scripture, indeed, does not mention His visit to her, but can we think that the best of sons would refuse this honour and consolation to His Mother? St. Ignatius of Loyola says that anyone who could doubt that Christ's first visit was to her, would deserve to hear His own word of reproach: "Are you also without understanding ?"

The meeting between the Mother and the Son was for themselves alone. It will be one of the joys of Heaven to know what passed between them in those first moments of His Risen Life. All we know now is that Mary could say with greater truth than David: "According to the multitude of my sorrows in my heart, thy comforts have given joy to my soul."  Both were eager for the glad surprises of this blessed day to begin soon. He must hasten to comfort those who on His account were in such bitter trouble. And so He left her to go on His errands of love, to do that work of comforting which is always the delight of His Sacred Heart.

Who could come next but Magdalen? After His Blessed Mother's, no heart was so desolate as hers. She had stayed by Him to the end, had helped to lay Him in His grave, had sat at the door weeping when all had gone away. As long as there was anything she could do for Him, even after death, her love was restless, and so she set out very early on the first day of the week, with the holy women her companions, to finish the embalming of the sacred Body. On the way to the Sepulchre they remembered the huge stone at the entrance and wondered how they would get in. But the difficulty did not stop them, and on their arrival they found the stone rolled away and the entrance to the tomb wide open. Without waiting to see anything further, Magdalen in dismay ran off to Peter and John and said to them:

"They have taken away the Lord out of the Sepulchre, and we know not where they have laid Him." In the meantime the other women went into the Sepulchre and saw a young man sitting at the right side clothed with a white robe, and they were astonished. And he said to them:

"Fear not you, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for He is risen as He said. Come and see the place where the Lord was laid. And going quickly tell His disciples and Peter that He is risen, and, behold, He will go before you into Galilee, there you shall see Him as He told you." And they going out fled from the Sepulchre, for a trembling and fear had seized them. And they went quickly with fear and great joy, running to tell His disciples.

What running there was that morning! for Peter and John, on hearing Magdalen's tale, both ran together to the Sepulchre. They saw the stone rolled back, and the linen cloths in which our Lord had been swathed folded together, but there was no angel there now to explain what it all meant. Full of wonder and perplexity they had gone home again, when Magdalen, who had followed them, arrived and went in. There she stood before the empty tomb weeping. Now, as she was weeping, she stooped down and looked into the Sepulchre: and she saw two Angels in white, sitting one at the head and one at the feet where the Body of Jesus had been laid. They said to her:

"Woman, why weepest thou ?" She said to them:

"Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him." When she had said this she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing ; and she knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her:

"Woman, why weepest thou ? whom seekest thou?" She, thinking that it was the gardener, said to Him:

"Sir, if thou hast taken Him hence, tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I will take Him away." Jesus said to her:

"Mary." She, turning, said to Him: "Rabboni," which is to say: Master. Jesus said to her:

"Do not touch Me, for I am not yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them: I ascend to My Father and to your Father, to My God and to your God." Mary Magdalen went and told the disciples, who were mourning and weeping:

"I have seen the Lord and these things He said to me." And they, hearing that He was alive and had been seen by her, did not believe. Her two companions were on their way to Jerusalem to deliver the Angel's message, when Jesus met them, saying:

"All hail!" And they came up and took hold of His feet and adored Him. And Jesus said to them:

"Fear not, go tell My brethren that they go into Galilee, there they shall see Me." But Magdalen's radiant face and joyful words:

"I have seen the Lord," and the assurances of her companions that they had kissed His feet, failed to cheer the disciples. Only the women had seen Him, they said, and who could believe such idle tales as theirs!

Two of them were so weighed down with sorrow that they left Jerusalem in the afternoon to go to a little village called Emmaus. As they went they talked over all that had happened since Friday, but stopped short on finding that a stranger had suddenly joined them. He saw they were in trouble and said kindly:

"What are these discourses that you hold one with another as you walk, and are sad?" One of them, whose name was Cleophas, answered:

"Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things that have been done there in these days?" To whom He said:

"What things?" And they said:

"Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a Prophet mighty in work and word before God and all the people; and how our chief priests and princes delivered Him to be condemned to death and crucified Him. But we hoped that it was He that should have redeemed Israel; and now, besides all this, today is the third day since these things were done. Yea, and certain women also of our company affrighted us, who before it was light were at the Sepulchre, and, not finding His Body, came saying that they had also seen a vision of Angels who say that He is alive. And some of our people went to the Sepulchre and found it so as the women had said, but Him they found not." The Stranger listened quietly to the end of their story. Then He said:

"O foolish and slow of heart to believe in all things which the prophets have spoken. Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and so to enter into His glory?" And beginning at Moses He showed them from all the prophets that He who was to come was to be a suffering Messiah, not the founder of an earthly kingdom as the Jews expected. So far, then, from being cast down by what had befallen their Master, they ought to take comfort from it, seeing how exactly all the prophecies had been fulfilled in Him. Moreover, if suffering was the way by which the Messiah was to redeem the world, it was not to last forever. For Him and for all His followers the cross was to lead to the crown.

The disciples listened with rapt attention. Here was a new light thrown upon that shameful death of their dear Master which had seemed to be the end of all their hopes. The cloud upon their hearts began to lift. A strange peace and joy seemed to flow to them, not from the words alone, but from the very Presence of the Stranger. They could not bear to part from Him; He had made all the difference in their lives. They drew nigh to the town whither they were going, and He made as though He would have gone farther, but they constrained Him, saying:

"Stay with us, because it is towards evening and the day is now far spent." And He went in with them. And while He was at table with them, He took bread, and blessed, and broke and gave to them. And their eyes were opened and they knew Him, and He vanished out of their sight. Here, then, was the explanation of that happy afternoon. And they said one to the other:

"Was not our heart burning within us whilst He spoke in the way and opened to us the Scriptures?" And rising up the same hour, they went back to Jerusalem, and they found the Eleven gathered together, and those that were with them. Before they could speak they were welcomed with the glad cry:

"The Lord is risen, indeed, and hath appeared to Simon!" They looked around. How different the state of things in the Upper Chamber from what they had left a few hours ago! Joy on every face. Peter's a sight never to be forgotten; such peace there, such deep content. No word of what had passed between him and his Master escaping him, as if his secret were too sweet to be broken by a word, but the certainty of the Resurrection so strong within him that on his simple assurance the rest believed: "The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon." He is confirming his brethren according to our Lord's words at the Supper.

At last Cleophas and his companion get a hearing and tell their story of the wondrous walk that afternoon, and Who went with them, and how they did not know Him till the breaking of bread. Those who had not yet seen our Lord listened with beating hearts; they believed, but oh, that they too might see Him! A stir; a startled cry! For there He stood in their midst—Himself, the very same; the face, the look, the smile they knew so well.

"Peace be to you ; it is I, fear not," He said. But they being troubled and affrighted supposed that they saw a spirit. And He said to them:

"Why are you troubled, and why do thoughts arise in your hearts? See My hands and feet, that it is I Myself; handle and see, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones as you see Me to have." And, when He had said this, He showed them His hands and His feet. The disciples, therefore, were glad when they saw the Lord. But while they yet believed not and wondered for joy, He said:

"Have you here anything to eat I" And they offered Him a piece of broiled fish and a honeycomb. And when He had eaten before them, taking the remains, He gave to them. Then He said to them again:

"Peace be to you. As the Father hath sent Me, I also send you." When He had said this He breathed on them, and He said to them: "Receive ye the Holy Ghost; whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained."

The third Sacrament instituted in the Upper Chamber. The Thursday before, the Blessed Sacrament had been instituted there; the Apostles had been made priests, and received the awful power to consecrate. And now, reserved for the evening of this glad Easter Day, when His word again and again is "Peace," He institutes and leaves in His Church for ever the blessed Sacrament of forgiveness, the Sacrament of Peace.

How grand is our Lord's generosity in this first meeting with His poor disciples ! How completely He sweeps away all fear that their desertion of Him is to make any difference in His feeling towards them! Even if the women's tale were true and the Lord was risen indeed, He would look out now for followers more worthy of Him. So they must have thought. He knew this and set Himself to reassure and comfort them in every way that loving Heart of His could devise. Before His Passion it was their suffering, rather than His own, that troubled Him. In His Risen Life, what is due to Himself seems forgotten in His concern for them. One would think He had to make amends to them for what they had borne for His sake. And so He hastens here and there, from one group to another, bringing brightness and happiness to all. Before His Passion they were "friends," now they are "brethren." His one thought this Easter Day is to bring joy to all who love Him. Not so much as a hint at any need of forgiveness. Oh, what a beautiful character is our dearest Lord's!

At the Last Supper it seemed as if self-forgetting love could go no further. But when He comes back from the grave, and the weight that all His life long had pressed upon His Sacred Heart is gone, there is a gladness, almost playfulness, about Him as He appears and disappears and hides, that takes us by surprise, and discloses depths of tenderness we had not known before. One alone of the Eleven, Thomas, was still in trouble because in unbelief. He was not with them when Jesus came. On his return the rest exclaimed joyfully:

"We have seen the Lord !" But he said to them:

"Except I shall see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe." Poor St. Thomas! few among the Apostles loved the Master better than he. It was the very depth of his affection that made him hesitate to believe what seemed too good to be true. Perhaps, too, he was a little jealous of the others. Why had he missed what had made them so joyful! His mind worked slowly. He did not jump at conclusions. The impulsiveness of Peter, James, and John was something of a trial to him. He rather prided himself on the prudence of his resolve not to believe like them till he had seen like them. And so he remained aloof, wretched and miserable, a trial to them all. But they saw how he was suffering, and they were patient with him and kind. And their charity was rewarded. He had no right, it is true, to lay down the conditions on which he would believe, and to get himself into such a state that nothing but a miracle could bring him round. But if faith and hope had gone, love remained, and our Lord had pity on him and humoured him and gave him the proofs he required After eight days again the disciples were within, and Thomas with them. Jesus came, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst and said:

"Peace be to you." Then He said to Thomas: "Put in thy finger hither, and see My hands, and bring hither thy hand and put it into My side, and be not faithless, but believing." Thomas answered and said to Him:

"My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him:

"Because thou hast seen Me, Thomas, thou hast believed; blessed are they that have not seen and have believed."

Our Lord's Appearances after His Resurrection were for His friends alone. His enemies had abundant proof that He was risen, but they did not see Him again. They had had their day of grace, and His visible presence on earth was no longer for them. He had told them shortly before His Passion that if they believed not Moses and the Prophets, neither would they believe if one should rise from the dead. These words were fulfilled now, for the awful "signs" of Friday afternoon and Sunday morning left them hardened as before.

When the guards at the Sepulchre, who, at the presence of the Angel, were struck with terror and became as dead men, had come to themselves, they went into the City and told the chief priests all things that had been done. And they being assembled together, taking counsel, gave a great sum of money to the soldiers, saying.

"Say you: His disciples came by night and stole Him away when we were asleep. And if the
Governor shall hear of this, we will persuade him and secure you." So they, taking the money, did as theywere taught. "And this word was spread abroad among the Jews even unto this day," says St. Matthew.

"Spread abroad" it might be, but not believed. That the disciples of Jesus, simple, timid men, who had all taken flight when He was seized in the Garden, and had not dared to show themselves since, could have attempted such a thing, or that Roman soldiers, trained up under strict military discipline, and placed there only the evening before, should be all asleep at the same time, and should sleep so soundly and so long as not to be awakened either by the rolling away of the stone or the carrying off of the body—this was a story too ridiculous to deceive any. But the soldiers, who had nothing to lose and much to gain by spreading it abroad, did as they were told. It was no concern of theirs that people asked: if they were asleep how could they see the theft of the body? If they did not see it how were they witnesses?

"He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh at them," says Holy Scripture, speaking of the plots of the wicked. These words come to mind as we see the priests carefully sealing the stone and setting their guards on that Sabbath afternoon. These guards were the first witnesses to the Resurrection, and that seal was its surest sign. God allowed it so to be for the confirmation of our faith. He knew that everything about our Divine Lord would be attacked by unbelievers, that the day would come when the Mystery which is the very foundation of our faith in Him would be assailed. That day has come. Because they cannot understand how Christ rose again, men are saying that the Resurrection is an impossibility, and this they try to prove in books and papers that are read by men, women and children of every class, in every country, of every shade of religions belief.

As children of the Catholic Church, we must be on our guard against the unbelief of the day in every shape. But most of all must we fear and fly from anything that would shake our faith in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. If that goes, all must go. If that goes, we are no longer Christians, for it is our faith in the Resurrection that makes us followers of Christ. We are not disciples of a dead but of a living Man, the God Man Jesus Christ, yesterday, today, and for ever.

We believe in this wonderful Mystery because the Holy Scripture, which is the word of God, affirms it, and because the Church of God has taught it from the beginning. But we may strengthen our faith and meet the objections of those who try to shake it by considering two points about the Resurrection: Men are to be found now who say that our Lord was not really dead upon the cross, and, therefore, could not rise again. Now, both pagan and Jewish writers declare that Jesus Christ was put to death by Pontius Pilate in the reign of Tiberias Caesar. The piercing of the sacred Side proves His death; so do the words of the centurion to Pilate, and Pilate's gift of the body to Joseph of Arimathea, whilst the precautions of the priests make both His Death and Resurrection as clear as day to all but such as will not see.

Again, the wonderful change in the Apostles proves the truth of the Resurrection. They never so much as dreamed of their Master rising again. After His death they were utterly disconsolate and hopeless, hiding away within barred doors, afraid to show themselves abroad. A few weeks later these cowardly men were proclaiming the Eesurrection boldly. No fear of their rulers nor of torments nor of death could silence them:

"Jesus of Nazareth, whom you by the hands of wicked men have crucified and slain—this Jesus hath God raised again, whereof all we are witnesses," said Peter in his first sermon to the Jews.

Standing a little later before Annas and Caiaphas to answer for his boldness in healing a cripple in the Name of Jesus, he said:

"Ye princes of the people and ancients, hear. Be it known to you all and to all the people of Israel, that by the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth whom you crucified, whom God hath raised from the dead, even by Him, this man standeth before you whole."

Think of Peter, poor, trembling Peter, who at the first word of a servant girl had denied his Master, speaking in this strain before the dreaded Sanhedrin! How he insists. How little he cares what they do to him. And when he and John are forbidden to teach any more in the Name of Jesus, their only answer to the Council is:

"If it be just to hear you rather than God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard." To witness to this truth, and preach to all men Jesus crucified and risen again, the Apostles gave up friends and country, embraced a life of hardship and suffering, and at length joyfully laid down their lives.
Acts 4.

Would they have done this had the Resurrection been a fable? Our faith is built upon the Resurrection; that is, it rests upon this great truth as a house on its foundation. Take away the foundation and the building falls to the ground. Give up faith in the Resurrection and belief in all other articles of the Creed breaks down. We believe them on the word of Jesus, and we believe in Jesus because of the Resurrection. The Gospel is sometimes called " the preaching of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ." This was the proof He gave to friends and enemies that He was God. It was this wonderful fact that made the first Christians by bringing such multitudes into the Church at Pentecost. It was to commemorate Christ's rising from the dead that the first day of the week, Sunday, the Lord's Day, was appointed by the Apostles to take the place of the Jewish Sabbath.

Many men have worked miracles in His Name and have even raised the dead to life. But no mere man has ever raised himself to life. This God alone could do. Jesus Christ alone could say : "I have power to lay down My life, and I have power to take it up again." His Resurrection, then, proves Him to be God. If He is God, then all He has taught is true. We must believe in Him and we must do all He has commanded us.

There is no article of our Creed that we should say with more triumph and joy than this:  "The third day He rose again from the dead." And with more hope. For it is because of the Resurrection of our Head that we, the members, look for our own and say: "I believe in the Resurrection of the body and life everlasting. Amen." But we must go back to the Appearances of our Lord to His disciples, by which He confirmed their faith in this astounding Mystery. When during forty days they saw Him, touched Him, heard Him, ate with Him, they could no longer doubt the reality of the Resurrection. He was as real a person to them as Peter or John; He might be looked for at any moment; they could put their questions and difficulties to Him as before.

About a week after the Resurrection the Eleven left Judea for Galilee. They were glad to go north. Jerusalem had few happy memories for them. There the Lord had suffered and died. His enemies were there and more infuriated than ever since His Resurrection from the dead. It was by the simple folk of Galilee that He had been most followed and loved. Everything there the mountains, the fields, the highways spoke to them of Him. And above all, the Lake. On its beach they had received their call to follow Him and become fishers of men. There He had spoken the first parables and worked many of His deeds of mercy. He had stilled its storms and come to them across its waters. What wonder that they were glad to find themselves once more on the shores of that dear Lake!

It was strange to go back to nets and fishing after that marvellous Pasch; but they were poor men, and had to live by their labour. And so when Peter said one evening:

"I go a-fishing," six of them answered: "We also come with thee." One of them was Thomas. He had learned his lesson; he was not going to lose a chance again by separating himself from the rest. They put to sea and laboured all night, but caught nothing. The sun was rising next morning when, through the light mist, they saw a Figure standing on the shore, and heard a Voice calling:

"Children, have you any meat ?" The weary men answered : "No." "Cast the net on the right side of the ship," said the Voice, "and you shall find." They obeyed, suspecting nothing. But when the net sank heavily, and they were scarcely able to draw it for the multitude of fishes, John said to Peter:

"It is the Lord!" In an instant Peter was over the side of the boat and making for land with all his might. The six came up presently in the boat dragging the net with fishes. As soon as they came to land, they saw hot coals lying, and a fish laid thereon, and bread. Jesus said to them:

"Bring hither of the fishes which you have now caught." Simon Peter went up and drew the net to land full of great fishes, one hundred and fifty-three; and, although there were so many, the net was not broken. Jesus said to them:

"Come and dine." Tired and hungry, they stretched themselves on the beach. And He went in and out among them giving them fish and bread. They looked at Him in silent wonder; looked at the Wounds in His feet and hands. They listened to Him, took food from His hands, touched Him as He went past. And when He came and sat down amongst them as in the old days, and the fresh morning breeze stirred His hair, and there were the sweet words and ways that belonged to Him alone, revealing Him every moment—what more could they want to convince them of the truth of His own words on the Day of the Resurrection:

"It is I Myself ?" St. John, who was there, tells us that "none of them who were at meat durst ask Him: "Who art Thou?" knowing that it was the Lord. He goes on to tell us what happened after that early dinner. When they had dined Jesus said to Simon Peter:

"Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me more than these?" He said to Him: "Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee." He said to him: "Feed My lambs." He said to him again: "Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me?" He said to Him: "Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee."
He said to him: "Feed My lambs." He said to him the third time: "Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me?" Peter was grieved because He had said to him the third time: "Lovest thou Me?" and he said to Him: "Lord, Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest that I love Thee."
He said to him: " Feed My sheep."

Our Lord would give Peter the opportunity of making reparation by three professions of love for his three denials. And He asked him for a greater love than the rest, because of the greater trust that was to be committed to him—the charge of the whole flock.

The Church, as you will remember, consists of two classes, the Teaching and the taught. The taught are the simple faithful, whom our Lord calls the lambs; the sheep who look after the lambs are the bishops; they make up the Church teaching. Over all Peter is set as Shepherd. Teachers as well as taught, bishops and priests as well as the simple laity, are to look for guidance to Peter and his successors. As in the East a flock is kept together by following the shepherd, who walks on in front and leads it, so the flock of Christ is to be kept united by obeying its chief Shepherd the Pope; who is the successor of Peter and the Vicar of Christ.

"Go, tell His disciples and Peter," the Angel said to the women at the Sepulchre. Why "and Peter?" Was he not one of the disciples? Yes, but the first among them, who had charge of the rest and had to confirm them. This he did on the very Day of the Resurrection. And with wonderful success. What was an "idle tale," when told by the women, was the truth indeed when it came from Peter: "The Lord is risen indeed and hath appeared to Simon."

We must not think that the Gospels give us all the Appearances of our Lord to the Apostles after His Resurrection. St. John tells us expressly:

"Many other signs did Jesus in the sight of His disciples which are not written in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in His Name." St. Luke says: "He showed Himself alive after His Passion by many proofs, for forty days appearing to His disciples and speaking to them of the Kingdom of God," that is, the Church, which our Lord often called by this name.

In one of these Appearances He was seen by more than five hundred disciples at once. This Appearance on the mountain was the only one of which the time and place were known beforehand. Here our Lord was to meet His own by appointment. From all parts —Jerusalem, Judea, Galilee—they flocked to the spot, full of joyful expectation. And there, in presence of this large number of believers, He gave to the Apostles the solemn commission to teach the whole world.

And Jesus coming spoke to them, saying:

"All power is given to Me in Heaven and in earth. Going, therefore, teach ye all nations, baptising them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you, and behold I am with you all days even to the consummation of the world."

It was early morning, about four o'clock. Already the Sanhedrists were hastening to a second meeting to confirm the condemnation passed during the night, and to discuss the best means of extorting from the Roman Governor the sentence of death which they were not allowed to carry out themselves. Being a Gentile, Pilate would not take much notice of the charge of blasphemy, but his well-known dread of falling into disgrace with Csesar could be turned to account.

By this time it had spread all over the City that Jesus of Nazareth had been taken and found guilty of death. Everyone was talking of Him. Some were surprised that a man who had spent his days in doing good should be so persecuted. Others said it had been found out that his wonderful works were done by the power of the devil. The priests had declared—and surely they should know best—that he was a dangerous man, who must be got out of the way, or he would bring ruin on the nation. And what were his feelings who had betrayed Him ? Perhaps Judas had persuaded himself that our Lord would escape unharmed from His enemies as He had often done before. At all events, the tidings that He had been condemned to death, and was being taken to Pilate that the sentence might be confirmed, filled him with unspeakable horror. What could he do to still the remorse of conscience that was torturing him? People said the priests were even now entering the Temple on their way to the Praetorium. He would hasten thither and give them hack the hateful pieces of silver which had brought him to this. A few minutes later the worshippers in the Temple were startled by seeing a wretched-looking man rush past them after the priests, who with their Prisoner were passing through the Courts.

"I have sinned" he cried, "in betraying innocent blood," and he held out both hands to them with the money. They looked at him with contempt.

"What is that to us?" they said; "look thou to it." The cruel words filled up the measure of his misery. He might have been saved yet had he thrown himself at the feet of Jesus, or gone away and wept like Peter. But though his heart was full of a fierce hatred of himself, there was no true contrition for his sin, no hope of forgiveness. He gave himself up to despair, and, casting down the money in the Temple, went into a lonely place near the Garden where he had betrayed his Master, and hanged himself.

The Governor had been told that the chief priests, followed by an immense crowd, were bringing Jesus of Nazareth to the Praetorium for judgment, and he prepared for one of his stormy interviews with the rulers of the people. Pilate disliked and despised the Jews, and was severe, often cruel in his dealing with them. But he had no prejudice against our Blessed Lord, of whom he had heard, not from public report alone, but from Claudia Procula, his wife. How she had come to hear of the young Teacher from Galilee, we are not told, but His gracious words and ways, the hatred of the rulers, the dangers that hedged Him round, had come to her knowledge, and her heart was drawn to Him. Whilst He was suffering in the Garden, Procula, too, was suffering in a dream on His account. Terrified now lest her husband should do anything against Him, she determined to follow the proceedings as far as possible from one of her apartments where she could see without being seen. Here, at the window, she stood watching with alarm the masses of excited people now approaching the Praetorium. Knowing that the chief priests were delivering up Jesus of Nazareth out of envy, Pilate was resolved to hear the cause himself and give the Prisoner a fair chance. He therefore gave orders that the priests should present themselves before his tribunal. But they would not defile themselves at this holy Paschal time by crossing the threshold of a Gentile, and the Governor had to go out and meet them in the great square in front of the Praetorium, called Lithostrotos, or the Pavement, from the coloured stones with which it was laid.

"What accusation do you bring against this Man?" he asked. They answered haughtily: "If He were not a malefactor we would not have delivered Him up to thee." And in loud, angry voices they began to accuse Him, saying:

"We have found this man perverting our nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Caesar, and saying that He is Christ the King." It was something new to Pilate to find this sudden zeal for Caesar, and he could not repress a sneering smile. But he was not going to condemn a man on no better evidence than their word, as they seemed to expect. Serious charges had been brought against Him, and Roman justice required that they should be seriously examined. He would see the Accused in private, and two of his guards were sent out to bring our Lord into the hall.

"Art Thou a King?" inquired the Governor. Jesus answered: "Thou sayest that I am a King. For this was I born and for this came I into the world . . but My Kingdom is not of this world."

It was as Pilate had been informed. The Man was no danger to Rome. He had always spoken peacefully to peaceful crowds. If His enemies had anything against Him, it was on account of some Jewish superstition that was beneath his notice. Satisfied, therefore, as to His innocence, Pilate brought Him out to the people and said:

"I find no cause in Him." The chief priests began to cry out, and to bring charge upon charge against Him. The Governor waited for His reply. But He answered nothing. Pilate was struck by this silence and looked well at the Man before him. Never had he had to do with so noble a prisoner; never had he seen such majesty and serenity, and such contempt of death. Wondering exceedingly he said again:

"I find no cause in this Man." But the priests only exclaimed more vehemently: "He stirreth up all the people, beginning from Galilee to this place." Pilate was naturally just. He saw through the accusations of the Jews. He knew that our Lord was innocent of all these crimes, and that He ought to be released at once. But Pilate was weak. He was afraid- that the Jews might report him to the cruel Emperor Tiberias, and that disgrace, or something worse, might befall him if he declared himself openly in favour of One who claimed to be a King. He tried therefore to strike a middle course, and began the wretched shuffling, which was the cause of so much shame and agony to our Lord and of such perplexity to himself.

The name Galilee brought up by the priests seemed to show a way out of the difficulty. Galilee belonged to Herod, who was in Jerusalem for the Pasch. Jesus of Nazareth as his subject should be tried by him. Greatly relieved at having thus shifted the responsibility on to another, Pilate sent our Lord to Herod, and congratulated himself on having brought to a successful conclusion an important and awkward case.

Herod was as much pleased to see our Lord as Pilate was to get rid of Him. For a long time he had wanted to get a sight of this extraordinary Man, and to see some of the marvels of which he had heard. His opportunity had come, for the Prisoner would surely be only too glad to gratify him and win his favour. On His appearance, therefore, before the courtiers assembled as for an entertainment, Herod treated Him with respect, showed an interest in His case, and asked Him many questions. But He who had answered Pilate would not deign to speak to this vicious prince, the murderer of St. John the Baptist, the man whom for his cunning He had called a " fox." Herod's conscience told him the reason of this silence, and, provoked at being thus put to shame before his court, he took his revenge by mocking his Prisoner. He had Him dressed up in a white garment as a fool, and in this guise sent Him back to Pilate.

Now, at last, the persistent efforts of the priests to dishonour Christ before the people were rewarded. The crowds that had flocked to Him in the Temple and poured out of Jerusalem six days ago to bring Him in triumph into the City, the crowds that He had loved and taught and healed, turned against Him. As He came out of Herod's palace in the fool's garment, He was received with hisses, jeers, and all the wonted insults of an Eastern mob.
It was an hour or two after Pilate had sent our Lord to Herod that He was told the soldiers were bringing Him back. The weak, cowardly judge was terribly perplexed. He knew what he ought to do, but he was afraid. He could not in justice condemn Jesus; he dared not release Him. A sudden thought struck him: the people might come to his help. There was a custom by which they were allowed at the time of the Pasch to have any prisoner they should choose released to them. They were beginning now to cry out for the grant of their annual privilege. Pilate saw his chance. He had then in prison a bandit and murderer called Barabbas. The people should choose between this man and Jesus—the people, not the envious priests, the people who would be terrified to see Barabbas let loose again. He mounted the platform in the Lithostrotos and seated himself in his chair of gold and ivory. His soldiers and servants took up their position behind him and the Prisoner was again summoned. All around was the multitude thronging every part of the enclosure.
 
"Whom will you that I release to you," cried the Governor, "Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?" At this moment he turned aside to hear a message from his wife:
 
"Have thou nothing to do with that just Man, for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of Him." His Apostles were hiding; His friends in the Sanhedrin, Nicodemus, and Joseph of Arimathea, were afraid to plead His cause; His priests were clamouring for His death. One alone in the holy City was found to speak for Him—the Gentile woman, who, from her splendid apartment, was looking down upon Him with reverence and with pity, Claudia Procula, Pilate's wife.

Her words agitated her husband greatly, and confirmed him in his resolution of saving this Just One from the fury of His enemies. But what might have been done with ease two hours ago was a difficult matter now. The chief priests were steadily making way, even the few minutes' interruption caused by Procula's message had not been lost by them; and when the Governor put his question a second time, the people, whom they had worked up to a state of frenzy, were ready with their reply.

"Whom will you that I release to you," he cried, "Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?" A shout as of one voice went up: "Away with this Man and release unto us Barabbas." Astounded and disgusted, Pilate called out:

"What will you, then, that I do to the King of the Jews?" They cried out: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" "Why, what evil hath He done?" demanded the Governor. "I find no cause in Him. I will chastise Him, therefore, and let Him go." But again rose up that howl: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" Weary of the struggle, Pilate called for water and washed his hands before the people, saying: "I am innocent of the blood of this Just Man, look you to it." Oh, the awful shout that went up from the whole multitude there:

"His blood be upon us and upon our children!" In vain did the cowardly judge wash his hands, the guilt was upon his soul. On him depended the life or the death of Jesus Christ. Therefore will all Christians to the end of time say in their Creed: "suffered under Pontius Pilate."

The rage of the people was becoming more and more ungovernable; they were thirsting like wolves for the blood of this innocent Lamb, and now nothing less would satisfy them. Again Pilate yielded, and, to appease them and save Christ without harming himself, he had recourse to the shameful expedient of ordering Him to be scourged. Scourging was a punishment so cruel and so degrading that it was reserved for slaves. The poor victim often died under it, and, in itself, it was far worse than death. Trembling with fear, for He was truly man, our Lord was fastened by His wrists to a low pillar. Then the executioners, standing on a step to deal their blows more surely, struck Him unmercifully with their horrible iron-spiked lashes, which tore the flesh to the very bones. His sacred body was soon one wound; "from the sole of the foot to the top of the head there was no soundness therein, wounds and bruises and swelling sores," as the prophet had said.

And not a friendly face anywhere, none of all He had healed and comforted to help Him now! Gasping for breath, He sank at last to the ground, but only to be dragged off to a fresh torment. He had wanted, it was said, to be a King; well, the soldiers would have the coronation in their barrack room. They tore off His garments, which they had put on roughly after the scourging and which clung to His wounded body; threw over His shoulders an old, scarlet cloak, and put a reed into His hand for a sceptre. Then they plaited a crown of hard, sharp thorns, and beat it down with sticks upon His head and forehead, so that streams of blood trickled through His hair and ran down His face. Then they got into line and marched before Him, kneeling as they passed, and with shouts of laughter and cries of "Hail, King of the Jews!" came up to Him, some spitting on Him, some striking Him on the head, all trying who could ill treat Him most.

Our Lord was a king, and He felt, as only a king could feel, the shame as well as the pain He had to endure. But He sat there bearing all meekly as the prophet had foretold: "I have given my body to the strikers, I have not turned away my face from them that spit upon me." Accustomed as he was to cruel sights, Pilate was struck with horrror and compassion when our Lord appeared again before him. The face so beautiful an hour ago was quite disfigured, swollen, bruised, besmeared with blood. His limbs trembled, He could scarcely stand. The half closed eyes were dim with tears and blood. The scourging must have been horrible, thought the Governor, but at least it has saved His life; a sight so piteous would melt hearts of stone.

There was a balcony built over the archway that overlooked the thronged entrance to the Praetorium. Here, where He could be seen by all below, Pilate placed our Lord, still clothed with the old, red cloak, thrown over His bleeding shoulders, His eyes half blind with pain.

"Behold the Man!" he cried. "I bring Him forth to you that you may know I find no cause in Him."

"Crucify Him ! Crucify Him!" they shouted. "He ought to die because He made Himself the Son of God."

"Son of God!" Pilate was filled with a new and terrible fear. Innocent this Man certainly was. But what if He were something more, what if He were a God! Never, surely, had man borne himself like this Man, with such calm dignity, such invincible patience in the midst of torments and shame. He dared not leave this awful question unsolved. He must see Him again in private. "Whence art Thou?" he asked, when they were again alone. But Jesus gave him no answer. Pilate, offended, said to Him:

"Speakest Thou not to Me? Knowest Thou not that I have power to crucify Thee and I have power to release Thee?" Jesus answered:

"Thou shouldst not have any power against Me unless it were given thee from above." It was between ten and eleven o'clock when the poor, irresolute judge again appeared with his Prisoner in the Lithostrotos. He was greeted with the shout:

"If thou release this Man, thou art not Caesar's friend.""Behold your King," was his reply.

"Away with Him! away with Him!" they shouted.

"We have no king but Caesar." Pilate's courage gave way. He had to choose between Caesar and Christ, and to keep Caesar's favour "he released unto them him who for murder and sedition had been cast into prison, whom they had desired." says St. Luke, "but Jesus he delivered up to their will."

All over the City was heard the howl of triumph with which the sentence was received. No time was lost in carrying it out, lest Pilate should repent and recall it. The cross, already prepared, was brought out, and the title Pilate had ordered to be fixed to it: "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews."

The procession formed and set out in all haste. First came on horseback the centurion, whose duty it was to preside at the execution and to maintain order in the crowd; next a herald bearing the title of the cross and proclaiming the crimes of the condemned. Then two thieves to be crucified. Last of all, our Lord, weak and tottering, yet laden with His heavy cross. On each side of Him the soldiers who were to fasten Him to the cross and guard Him till death. Running on in front, shouting and laughing, children who had sung "Hosanna!" six days before. All around and behind, an immense multitude hooting and jeering, those nearest throwing mud and stones at Him after the fashion of an Eastern crowd.

What a spectacle was Jerusalem that Friday morning nineteen hundred years ago!—a mass of men, women, and children choking up every thoroughfare, pouring along under the arches that cross the narrow roadways, climbing and descending in endless procession the steep streets of the hill-built City; all going the same way, all talking excitedly, rejoicing that justice had at length overtaken "the seducer" and "blasphemer."' Roofs, windows, doorways, filled with eager sightseers; rabbis and priests hurrying about among the people, in a fever of anxiety lest anything should happen to prevent the execution.

The way to Calvary was long and painful, now up hill, now down, sometimes a series of steps. Our Lord struggled on slowly; three times His little remaining strength gave way, and, gasping for breath, He sank beneath His load. Fearing He would die before He could reach Calvary, the soldiers forced a countryman, Simon of Cyrene, to carry His cross. At a street corner was a little group waiting to see Him pass—His Blessed Mother with the Beloved Disciple, Magdalen, Mary of Cleophas, and Salome. The Mother's face would have moved a heart of stone; but hearts in Jerusalem were harder than stone that day, and there was no more pity for the Mother than for the Son. She saw the ladders, the ropes, the cross. And then, staggering along, she saw Him coming. Their eyes met, and He looked pityingly at her. They did not speak, but He strengthened her breaking heart, that she might be able to endure to the end. There were many hard things to bear on the road to Calvary, but to the tender Heart of Jesus the hardest of all was the sight of His Mother's face.

A little further on He stopped to speak to the weeping women of Jerusalem. All through His life of hardship and persecution women were faithful to Him and showed Him reverence. A woman's voice from the crowd had been raised to bless Him as He preached; women ministered to His wants, received Him into their houses when all other doors were closed against Him, lavished upon Him costly gifts which even His own disciples grudged Him. In His hour of need a woman's voice alone was raised in His defense. And now, heedless of the rough soldiers and the hooting rabble, a crowd of women pressed round Him and filled the air with their lamentations. What wonder that He could not leave them without a parting word! But it was a word of solemn warning, for He knew what was coming upon them and upon the little ones they carried in their arms.

"Daughters of Jerusalem," He said, " weep not for Me, but weep for yourselves and for your children."

About twelve o'clock Calvary was reached. It was a mound outside the walls, the place of public executions —a place of horrors. Our Lord was quite spent. The priests who crowded round Him could see He was dying.

"Quick, quick," they cried, "or it will be too late!" And whilst the soldiers kept the ground clear, He was thrown down upon the cross and ordered to stretch out His arms. His terror was indescribable, for He was truly man. Yet He obeyed without a word. One strong blow, and a long nail was driven through the right hand into the wood. The left arm had to be drawn with ropes to the hole drilled for it in the cross. Then it too was nailed fast. They dragged the feet till the sinews broke and the bones were out of joint. The torture was beyond what we can even think. Yet it was not able to turn His thoughts from us and our needs. He must make haste to appease His Father'sanger, aroused by this awful crime, to pray for His executioners and for all who have crucified or will crucify Him again by sin.

"Father, forgive them" He said, "for they know not what they do" St. John, who was there, tells us that" when they had crucified Him, the soldiers took His garments and made four parts, to every soldier a part, and also His coat. Now, the coat was without seam, woven from the top throughout. They said then one to another:

"Let us not cut it, but let us cast lots for it whose it shall be, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, saying: "They have parted My garments among them, and upon My vesture they have cast lots."  And the soldiers indeed did these things."

Meantime the thieves, shrieking and blaspheming, had been crucified, and the three crosses raised into position and firmly fixed with wedges driven in all round. Then at last the enemies of Jesus were satisfied. The priests came up and stood before His cross and cried:

"Yah ! Thou that destroyest the Temple of God and in three days dost rebuild it, save Thy ownself. If Thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross and we will believe." The people came and stared, blaspheming like their rulers. One of the thieves cried out:

"If Thou be Christ, save Thyself and us." But the other rebuked him and said:

"We, indeed, receive the due reward of our deeds, but this Man hath done no evil." And he said to Jesus: "Lord, remember me when Thou shalt come into Thy Kingdom." And Jesus said to him:

"Amen, I say to thee, this day thou shalt be with Me
in Paradise." Our Lord had always loved sinners. And now He gave these poor men grace to know that He who shared their disgrace and was put between them as the most guilty was the long-expected Messiah, the King of Heaven and earth. One of them, alas! only one, opened his heart to grace, was sorry for his sins, took his punishment humbly, and, for the simple remembrance which he asked, received the forgiveness of his sins and the promise of Heaven in the company of his Saviour before the sun had set.

Sinners first, sinners even before His Mother. But His next thought was for her. She was losing all in losing Him; He must provide her with a home. Brave and patient she was standing beside His cross, and, except for her companions and the centurion and his men, almost alone. A strange darkness creeping over the heavens had frightened away the crowds; there was room now by the cross; John had brought her up to it, and she had taken her stand there beside her Son to stay with Him until the end. His eyes were dimming fast. He could scarcely see. But He turned them painfully to her and then to John, and said to her:

"Woman, behold thy son." After that He said to John: " Behold thy Mother." And from that hour the disciple took her to his own. She was given to the Beloved Disciple, and in him to
all disciples. Mary, the Mother of God, became the Mother of us all that day. And now there was darkness over the whole earth, not that of a dark day, but the darkness of night. Our Lord had hung in silence a long time, when, suddenly, a loud cry broke from His lips:

"My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" How hard it is to understand that cry! We should have thought His Heavenly Father would have leaned in tenderest pity over that cruel cross and have filled with consolation the soul of His dying Son. It was to win back for His Father our perishing souls that He had come down from Heaven; all His life through He had sought, not His own glory but his Father's; He had done everything His Father asked of Him—why was He forsaken? Because He was being treated as a sinner. Sinners deserve to be forsaken by God in this world and in the next. He would take their place, and suffer this most dreadful pain and punishment in our stead, that we may know we are never, never forsaken by God in this life, no matter how lonely or how sinful we may be.

Of all the pains of crucifixion, the most terrible is thirst. It is so awful that the crucified seem to forget every other, and, as if there were nothing more to ask, beg only of the passers by a drink of water in their intolerable pain. It is loss of blood that brings this thirst. What must His thirst have been after the sweat of blood in the Garden, after the scourging, and now the draining of His sacred body on the cross? But it was not to get relief that Jesus cried:

"I thirst" but that David's prophecy of Him might be fulfilled: "In My thirst they gave Me vinegar to drink." On hearing His cry, a soldier ran, and filled a sponge with vinegar from a vessel that stood by, and, fixing it on a reed, put it to His mouth. And now at last, after three hours of agony, the end was come. When He had taken the vinegar Jesus said:

"It is finished." All He had come to do was done—the world redeemed; a perfect example set us in each stage of His blessed Life; every prophecy concerning Him accomplished; His Church founded, by which His followers in every age were to be taught what He had done for them, and how they must save their souls. He had spared Himself in nothing; He had sacrificed for our sakes, all He could give up—home, friends, reputation-- He had loved us to the end—all was finished. And again, crying with a loud Voice, He said:

"Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit." The eyes closed; the head fell forward on the breast; the body sank low on the nails—He was dead. And the veil of the Temple that hid the Holy of Holies from the sight of men was rent from top to bottom. And the earth quaked, and the rocks were rent, and the graves were opened, and many of the bodies of the saints that had slept arose, and, coming out of the tombs after His Resurrection, came into the holy City and appeared to many. And the centurion and they that were with him watching Jesus, having seen the earthquake and the things that were done, were sore afraid, saying:

"Indeed this was the Son of God." And all the multitude of them that were come together to that sight and saw the things that were done returned striking their breasts. In vain did the priests try to quiet the people, Jerusalem was beside itself with terror; the rocking earth, the opening graves, the midnight darkness at midday all this spoke plainly for Him whose lifeless body hung upon the cross. There was no question of Feast or holiday. What they had done to Jesus of Nazareth was the one absorbing thought. All His goodness and gentleness and compassion, His teaching and His healing, came back to them; their cry of long ago:
"He hath done all things well;" their cry six days ago: "Hosanna to the Son of David!" their cry of this day: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him! His blood be upon us and upon our children!" They felt that an awful crime had been committed, and a dreadful sense of the anger of God enkindled against them weighed upon every heart.

Meantime evening was drawing on, and the Mother on Calvary had seen the last outrage to her Son. Soldiers had broken the legs of the thieves and taken the dead bodies away that they might not hang there to cast a gloom over the rejoicings of the morrow. When they saw that Jesus was already dead they did not break His legs, but one of them with a spear opened His side and so fulfilled the prophecy of Zacharias:

"They shall look on Him whom they pierced."  She had no grave wherein to lay Him, but God, she knew, would provide. And, presently, there came up to the cross two men who up to this time had been disciples in secret for fear of the Jews. But now, when all Jerusalem was in fear, their hearts were filled with a new courage, and they had come to give honourable burial to their Master. Joseph of Arimathea had been boldly to Pilate and begged the body of Jesus, which he was going to lay in his own monument in the garden close by. Nicodemus came with him, and they brought fine linen and spices for the burial according to the custom of the Jews. Helped by their servants, they gently took down the sacred Body from the cross and laid it on the ground, the head on the Mother's knee.

The Soul was not there but in Limbo, rejoicing all the holy ones from Adam to the good thief, and turning that place of weary waiting into a very Heaven. The Divinity was with the Soul and with the lifeless Body too, and both were to be worshipped with the honour due to God. The preparations for burial had to be hastened, because of the Sabbath rest, which would begin when the first stars came out. With the help of Magdalen and John, Mary swathed Him in the long linen bands, and covered the white, disfigured face. Then they formed in sad procession and bore Him through the garden into the rocky tomb. There they left Him, and, rolling the great stone to the entrance, went their way.

As darkness fell for the second time that awful day, the disciples left their hiding places and crept back one by one to the Upper Chamber on Mount Sion, which now became their ordinary place of meeting. There they gathered round John to hear all that had befallen the Master since they had left Him in the Garden. They listened in trouble and in shame, poor Peter's tears running fast down his rugged face, all sorrowing over their cowardly desertion of their Master, all envying John who had stood by Him to the last. Then they talked of the past, of the happy days in Galilee, of their nights with Him on the mountain side, of His gentle, patient teaching, of His tenderness to them at the Supper in this very room. And now all was over, and had ended in this! There was nothing more to live for. They remembered how clearly He had foretold to them all that had come to pass—the betrayal, the scourging, the crucifixion; but not one of them called to mind that last word with which He always ended: "the third day He shall rise again."

Far into the night they talked; then, weary and comfortless, broke up the meeting and went back to their homes. On the festival day they were together again in the same place, going over all anew. Others came in, but there was no comfort from any. All was over, they said again and again to one another as they mourned and wept. His friends, then, were weighed down by hopeless sorrow. But what about His enemies? They were rejoicing surely? The priests had promised themselves a quiet evening after their anxious day. All had gone better than they had dared to hope. Through the cowardice of Pilate, insult and torment beyond what they could have desired had been heaped upon "the seducer," and now He was safely in His grave, and all was over. But was it? This, in their hour of triumph, was the question they kept asking themselves. The darkness, and the earthquake, and the rent veil in the Holy Place, were being taken as signs of His innocence and of the wrath of God upon His enemies; and not by the common  people only but by men of note and their fellow Councillors in the Sanhedrim Word had been brought to them how the centurion and his soldiers had proclaimed the Crucified to be the Son of God, and how Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea had given Him honourable burial. Of course they themselves had no further fears. He was certainly dead, and His disciples were far too timid to give cause for alarm. And yet there was that word of His about rebuilding the Temple in three days. What if there should be anything in it! What if anything should happen on the third day! It would be well to guard against such a calamity. No precautions could be too great to prevent a reappearance which would at once mark all His words and works as divine and prove Him to be in very deed what He had given Himself out to be. They would make all safe by applying to Pilate for a guard until the third day.

It was the afternoon of the Sabbath when the Governor was told that a party of priests craved an audience. Tortured by his conscience, and terrified by all that had followed upon the Crucifixion, Pilate was in no mood to receive visitors, and least of all these hateful men who had forced on him the deed of yesterday. Very unwillingly he gave orders for their admission.

"Sir," they said, bowing low before him, "we have remembered that that seducer said while he was yet alive; "After three days I will rise again." Command, therefore, the sepulchre to be guarded until the third day, lest perhaps his disciples come and steal him away, and say to the people that he is risen from the dead, and the last error shall be worse than the first."
"You have a guard, go guard it as you know," was the curt reply. And they, delighted to have gained their point so easily, departed and made all secure by sealing the stone of the Sepulchre and setting four Roman soldiers to guard it.

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