At that time: Mary Magdalen, and Mary the mother of James and Salome, bought sweet spices, that coming they might anoint Jesus. And very early in the morning, the first day of the week, they come to the sepulchre, the sun being now risen. And they said one to another: Who shall roll us back the stone from the door of the sepulchre? And looking, they saw the stone rolled back, for it was very great. And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed with a white robe: and they were astonished. And he said to them: Be not affrighted; ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified: he is risen, he is not here; behold the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he goeth before you into Galilee; there you shall see him as he told you. ----------------------- Sermon LVIII. _Mary Magdalen._ --St. Mark xvi. 1. Dear brethren, you have all felt the great contrast that there is between the awful rites of Good Friday and the joy of to-day. {205} Still fresh in your minds is the memory of the darkened church, the uplifted crucifix, the wailing of the reproaches. You remember, too, "the silence that might be felt" that reigned in God's temple on Holy Saturday. You can recall how still the church seemed yesterday at early morning, just as if some awful deed had been done there the day before; you may remember how unspeakably solemn seemed the silent procession to the porch to bless the new fire; how quiet and subdued all that followed. But suddenly a voice rang out into the darkness--the voice of the sacrificing priest at the altar; an "exceeding great cry" pierced the stillness, and instantly every veil fell; the sunlight streamed in through every window; chiming bells, pealing organ, and choral voices burst upon your senses; everything seemed to say, "He is risen! he is risen!" And we felt it was almost too much, almost more than the feeble human heart could bear and not break for very joy. If, then, this contrast is so marked and this joy so great after a lapse of eighteen hundred years and more, oh! what must have been the joy of the first Easter day. The first crucifix bore no ivory or metal figure; it had nailed to it the flesh of the Son of God. The first Good Friday was no commemoration of an event; it was the event itself. Oh! then how great, how great beyond mind to imagine or tongue to tell, must have been the joy of the first Easter. Jesus had died, left all his beloved. He had been buried, and there he rested in the quiet garden. Very early in the morning come Mary Magdalen and the other women to the tomb. The sun was just rising; the flowers of that blessed garden were just awaking; the dew-drops sparkled like rubies in the red sunrise; the vines and the creepers, fresh with their morning sweetness, hung clustering round the sacred tomb. {206} To that spot the women hasten; the sun rises; she, Mary Magdalen,