EASTER EVEN. At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid All still and cold beneath yon dreary stone Thy sacred form is gone; Around those lips where power and mercy hung, The dull earth o'er Thee, and thy foes around, Thou sleep'st a silent corse, in funeral fetters wound. KEBLE'S "Easter Eve." V. EASTER EVEN. We have now reached the last of those appropriate services in which the Church calls us to unite during this solemn Season. When for weeks we had chastened our souls by fasting and prayer, that we might be prepared to contemplate the fearful agonies of the Son of God, we were led by the services of Passion Week to the Hill of Calvary, and there beheld our Lord expiring on the Cross. But to-day a new scene in this fearful Tragedy is unfolded before us. The crucifixion is over-the Son of Man has passed the gates of Death-His body been pierced by the soldier's spear, to render it certain that no life remained and then the inanimate remains given by Pilate to Joseph of Arimathea, to be buried as he would. They have been deposited in his own new tomb in the garden the stone sealed and the Roman guard placed around it, "lest His disciples come by night, and steal Him away." There they are resting, while `many are looking anxiously for the things that should come after. Strange indeed must have been "the searchings of heart," which took place among those who thus awaited in trembling expectation, the further developments of this mystery. With the disciples it was indeed a day of trouble and suspense, when conflicting emotions filled their minds. They scarcely could have known what to think or believe. Confiding in the Messiahship of their Lord, as they witnessed His oft repeated miracles, they had "trusted that this Jesus was He who should have redeemed Israel.” Yet now their lofty hopes, both for themselves and for their nation, seemed to be interred in His sepulchre. "Slow of heart," they could not yet reconcile the facts of His sufferings and His triumph, or learn that the Redeemer was to pass on to his kingly throne through the furnace of affliction. And on Mount Moriah, and even within the precincts of the Temple, there must also have been anxious and excited hearts. The rites of that Jewish Sabbath were kept as usual-clouds of incense filled the Sanctuary -the smoke of the morning and evening sacrifice rose in the air above the Holy City- and countless thousands of worshippers as heretofore thronged the courts. Yet among those crowds must there not have been many who thought with fear on the deeds of the previous day, and now shuddered at the remembrance of that terrible prayer their own lips had uttered-"His blood be on us and on our children!" Even the priests and rulers must have trembled at the recollection of their own successful violence. They could not forbear to connect His death with the unusual signs which had convulsed all nature. In the very recesses of the Temple, the veil was rent by no mortal hands, and the sacred mysteries of the Holiest exposed to view-a fearful evidence that the Divinity was forsaking His accustomed abode. Did they behold these things without dismay? Did they minister as usual with untroubled minds? Did the former infatuation continue, and the triumph of having removed a rival who led away |