THE TOMB OF JESUS

to the Christian mind. Wherever we behold our Savior, he is well worthy of

our notice,

All his weary pilgrimage, from Bethlehem’s manger to Calvary’s cross, is

in my eyes, paved with glory. Each spot upon which he trod, is to our souls

consecrated at once, simply because there the foot of earth’s Savior and

our own Redeemer once was placed. When he comes to Calvary the

interest thickens, then our best thoughts are centered on him in the agonies

of crucifixion, nor does our deep affection permit us to leave him, even

when, the struggle being over, he yields up the ghost. His body, when it is

taken down from the tree, still is lovely in our eyes-we fondly linger around

the motionless clay. By faith we discern Joseph of Arimathea, and the timid

Nicodemus, assisted by those holy women, drawing out the nails and

taking down the mangled body; we behold them wrapping him in clean

white linen, hastily girding him round with belts of spices; then putting him

in his tomb, and departing for the Sabbath rest. We shall on this occasion

go where Mary went on the morning of the first day of the week, when

waking from her couch before the dawn, she aroused herself to be early at

the sepulcher of Jesus. We will try if it be possible, by the help of God’s

Spirit, to go as she did-not in body, but in soul-we will stand at that tomb;

we will examine it, and we trust we shall hear some truthspeaking voice

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coming from its hollow bosom which will comfort and instruct us, so that

we may say of the grave of Jesus when we go away, “It was none other

than the gate of heaven,”-a sacred place, deeply solemn, and sanctified by

the slain body of our precious Savior.

inviting all Christians to come with me to the tomb of Jesus. “Come, see

the place where the Lord lay.” We will labor to render the place attractive,

we will gently take your hand to guide you to it, and may it please our

Master to make our hearts burn within us, while we talk by the way.

Away, ye profane-ye souls whose life is laughter, folly, and mirth! Away,

ye sordid and carnal minds who have no taste for the spiritual, no delight in

the celestial. We ask not your company; we speak to God’s beloved, to the

heirs of heaven, to the sanctified, The redeemed, the pure in heart-and we

say to them “Come, see the place where the Lord lay.” Surely ye need no

argument to move your feet in the direction of the holy sepulcher; but still

we will use the utmost power to draw your spirit thither. Come then, for

‘tis the shrine of greatness, ‘tis the resting-place of the man, the Restorer

of our race, the Conqueror of death and hell. Men will travel hundreds of

miles to behold the place where a poet first breathed the air of earth; they

will journey to the ancient tombs of mighty heroes, or the graves of men

renowned by fame; but whither shall the Christian go to find the grave of

one so famous as was Jesus? Ask me the greatest man who ever lived-I tell

you the Man Christ Jesus, was “anointed with the oil of gladness above his

fellows.” If ye seek a chamber honored as the resting-place of genius, turn

in hither; if ye would worship at the grave of holiness, come ye here; if ye

would see the hallowed spot where the choicest bones that e’er were

fashioned lay for awhile, come with me, Christian, to that quiet garden,

hard by the walls of Jerusalem.

Come with me, moreover, because it is the tomb of your best friend The

Jews said of Mary, “She goeth unto his grave to weep there.” Ye have lost

your friends, some of you, ye have planted flowers upon their tombs, ye go

and sit at eventide upon the green sward, bedewing the grass with your

tears, for there your mother lies, and there your father, or your wife. Oh! in

pensive sorrow come with me to this dark garden of our Savior’s burial;

come to the grave of your best friend-your brother, yea, one who “sticketh

closer than a brother.” Come then to the grave of thy dearest relative, O

Christian, for Jesus is thy husband, “Thy Maker is thy husband, the Lord of

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Hosts is his name.” Doth not affection draw you? Do not the sweet lips of

love woo you? Is not the place sanctified where one so well-beloved slept,

although but for a moment? Surely ye need no eloquence; if it were needed

I have none. I have but the power, in simple, but earnest accents, to repeat

the words, “Come, see the place where the Lord lay.” On this Eastermorning

pay a visit to his grave, for it is the grave of your best friend.

Yea, more, I will further urge you to this pious pilgrimage. Come, for

angels bid you. Angels said, “Come, see the place where the Lord lay.”

The Syrian version reads, “Come, see the place where our Lord lay.” Yes,

angels put themselves with those poor women, and used one common

pronoun-our. Jesus is the Lord of angels as well as of men. Ye feeble

women-ye have called him Lord, ye have washed his feet, ye have provided

for his wants, ye have hung upon his lips to catch his honeyed sentences, ye

have sat entranced beneath his mighty eloquence; ye call him Master and

Lord, and ye do well; “But,” said the seraph, “he is my Lord too;” bowing

his head, he sweetly said, “Come, see the place where our Lord lay.” Dost

fear then, Christian, to step into that tomb? Dost dread to enter there,

when the angel pointeth with his finger and saith, “Come, we will go

together, angels and men, and see the royal bedchamber?” Ye know that

angels did go into his tomb, for they sat one at his head and the other at his

foot in holy meditation. I picture to myself those bright cherubs sitting

there talking to one another. One of them said, “It was there his feet lay;”

and the other replied, “And there his hands, and there his head;” and in

celestial language did they talk concerning the deep things of God; then

they stooped and kissed the rocky floor, made sacred to the angels

themselves, not because there they were redeemed, but because there their

Master and their Monarch, whose high behests they were obeying, did for

awhile become the slave of death, and the captive of destruction. Come,

Christian, then, for angels are the porters to unbar the door; come, for a

cherub is thy messenger to usher thee to the death-place of death himself.

Nay, start not from the entrance; let not the darkness affright thee; the

vault is not damp with the vapours of death, nor doth the air contain aught

of contagion. Come, for it is a pure and healthy place. Fear not to enter

that tomb. I will admit that catacombs are not the places where we, who

are full of joy, would love to go. There is something gloomy and noisome

about a vault. There are noxious smells of corruption; oftimes pestilence is

born where a dead body hath lain; but fear it not, Christian, for Christ was

not left in hell,-in hades,-neither did his body see corruption. Come, there is

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no scent, yea, rather a perfume. Step in here, and, if thou didst ever breathe

the gales of Ceylon, or winds from the groves of Araby, thou shalt find

them far excelled by that sweet holy fragrance left by the blessed body of

Jesus, that alabaster vase which once held divinity, and was rendered sweet

and precious thereby. Think not thou shalt find aught obnoxious to thy

senses. Corruption Jesus never saw; no worms ever devoured his flesh; no

rottenness ever entered into his bones; he saw no corruption. Three days he

slumbered, but not long enough to putrify; he soon arose, perfect as when

he entered, uninjured as when his limbs were composed for their slumber.

Come then, Christian, summon up thy thoughts, gather all thy powers; here

is a sweet invitation, let me press it again. Let me lead thee by the hand of

meditation, my brother; let me take thee by the arm of thy fancy, and let me

again say to thee, “Come, see the place where the Lord lay.”

There is yet one reason more why I would have thee visit this Royal

sepulcher-because it is a quiet spot. Oh! I have longed for rest, for I have

heard this world’s rumors in my ears so long, that I have begged for

where I might hide myself for ever. I am sick of this tiring and trying life;

my frame is weary, my soul is mad to repose herself awhile. I would I

could lie myself down a little by the edge of some pebbly brook, with no

companion save the fair flowers or the nodding willows. I would I could

recline in stillness, where the air brings balm to the tormented brain, where

there is no murmur save the hum of the summer bee, no whisper save that

of the zephyrs, and no song except the carolling of the lark. I wish I could

be at ease for a moment. I have become a man of the world; my brain is

racked, my soul is tired. Oh! wouldst thou be quiet, Christian? Merchant,

wouldst thou rest from thy toils? wouldst thou be calm for onset then come

hither. It is in a pleasant garden, far from the hum of Jerusalem; the noise

and din of business will not reach thee there; “Come, see the place where

the Lord lay.” It is a sweet resting spot, a withdrawing room for thy soul,

where thou mayest brush thy garments from dust of earth and muse awhile

in peace.

will enter the tomb. Let us examine it with deep attention, noticing every

circumstance connected with it.

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And first, mark that it is a costly tomb. It is no common grave; it is not an

excavation dug out by the spade for a pauper in which to hide the last

remains of his miserable and over wearied bones. It is a princely tomb; it

was made of marble, cut in the side of a hill. Stand here, believer, and ask

why Jesus had such a costly sepulcher. He had no elegant garments; he

wore a coat without seam, woven from the top throughout, without an

atom of embroidery. He owned no sumptuous palace, for he had not where

to lay his head. His sandals were not rich with gold, or studded with

brilliants. He was poor. Why, then, does he lie in a noble grave? We

answer, for this reason: Christ was unhonoured till he had finished his

sufferings; Christ’s body suffered contumely, shame, spitting, buffetting,

and reproach, until he had completed his great work; he was trampled

under foot, he was “despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and

acquainted with grief;” but the moment he had finished his undertaking,

God said, “No more shall that body be disgraced; if it is to sleep, let it

slumber in an honorable grave, if it is to rest, let nobles bury it; let Joseph,

the councilor, and Nicodemus, the man of Sanhedrim, be present at the

funeral; let the body be embalmed with precious spices, let it have honor; it

has had enough of contumely, and shame, and reproach, and buffeting; let

it now be treated with respect.” Christian, dost thou discern the meaning,

Jesus after he had finished his work, slept in a costly grave, for now his

Father loved and honored him, since his work was done.

But though it is a costly grave, it is a borrowed one. I see over the top of

it, “Sacred to the memory of the family of Joseph of Arimathea;” yet Jesus

slept there. Yes, he was buried in another’s sepulcher. He who had no

house of his own, and rested in the habitation of other men; who had no

table, but lived upon the hospitality of his disciples; who borrowed boats in

which to preach and had not anything in the wide world, was obliged to

have a tomb from charity. Oh! should not the poor take courage? They

dread to be buried at the expense of their neighbors; but if their poverty be

unavoidable, wherefore should they blush, since Jesus Christ himself was

interred in another’s grave? Ah! I wish I might have had Joseph’s grave, to

let Jesus be buried in it. Good Joseph thought he had cut it out for himself;

and that he should lay his bones there. He had it excavated as a family vault

and lo, the Son of David makes it one of the tombs of the kings. But he did

not lose it by lending it to the Lord: rather, he had it back with precious

interest. He only lent it three days: then Christ resigned it: he had not

injured, but perfumed and sanctified it, and made it far more holy, so that it

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would be an honor in future to be buried there. It was a borrowed tomb;

and why? I take it not to dishonor Christ, but in order to show that as his

sins were borrowed sins so his burial was in a borrowed grave. Christ had

no transgressions of his own. He took ours upon his head; no never

committed a wrong, but he took all my sin, and all yours, if ye are

believers. Concerning all his people, it is true, he bore their griefs and

carried their sorrows in his own body on the tree; therefore, as they were

others’ sins so he rested in another’s grave; as they were sins imputed, so

that grave was only imputedly his. It was not his sepulcher: it was the tomb

of Joseph.

Let us not weary in this pious investigation, but with fixed attention

observe everything connected with this holy spot. The grave, we observe,

was cut in a rock. Why was this? The Rock of ages was buried in a rock-a

Rock within a rock. But why? Most persons suggest that it was so

ordained that it might be clear that there was no covert way by which the

disciples or others could enter and steal the body away. Very possibly it

was the reason, but oh! my soul, canst thou not find a spiritual reason?

Christ’s sepulcher was cut in a rock. It was not cut in mould that might be

worn away by the water, or might crumble and fall into decay. The

sepulcher stands, I believe, entire to this day; if it does not naturally, it does

spiritually. The same sepulcher which took the sins of Paul, shall take my

iniquities into its bosom; for if I ever lose my guilt, it must roll off my

shoulders into the sepulcher. It was cut in a rock, so that if a sinner were

saved a thousand years ago, I too can be delivered, for it is a rocky

sepulcher where sin was buried-it was a rocky sepulcher of marble where

my crimes were laid for ever-buried never to have a resurrection.

You will mark, moreover, that tomb was one wherein no other man had

ever lain. Christopher Ness says, “When Christ was born he lay in a

virgin’s womb, and when he died he was placed in a virgin tomb; he slept

where never man had slept before.” The reason was, that none might say

that another person rose, for there never had been any other body there,

thus a mistake of persons was impossible. Nor could it be said that some

old prophet was interred in the place, and that Christ rose because he had

touched his bones. You remember when Elisha was buried, and as they

were burying a man, behold he touched the prophet’s bones, and arose.

Christ touched no prophet’s bones, for none had ever slept there; it was a

new chamber, where the Monarch of the earth did take his rest for three

days and three nights.

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We have learned a little, then, with attention, but let us stoop down once

more before we leave the grave, and notice something else. We see the

grave, but do you notice the grave-clothes, all wrapped and laid in their

places, the napkin being folded up by itself? Wherefore are the graveclothes

wrapped up? The Jews said robbers had abstracted the body; but if

so, surely they would have stolen the clothes; they would never have,

thought of wrapping them up and laying them down so carefully; they

would be too much in haste to think of it. Why was it then? To manifest to

us that Christ did not come out in a hurried manner. He slept till the last

moment; then he awoke: he came not in haste. They shall not come out in

haste, neither by flight, but at the appointed moment shall his people come

to him. So at the precise hour, the decreed instant, Jesus Christ leisurely

awoke took off his cerements, left them all behind him, and came forth in

his pure and naked innocence, perhaps to show us that as clothes are the

offspring of sin-when sin was atoned for by Christ, he left all raiment

behind him-for garments are the badges of guilt: if we had not been guilty

we should never have needed them.

Then, the napkin, mark you, was laid by itself. The grave-clothes were left

behind for every departed Christian to wear. The bed of death is well

sheeted with the garments of Jesus, but the napkin was laid by itself,

because the Christian when he dies, does not need that; it is used by the

mourners, and the mourners only. We shall all wear grave-clothes, but we

shall not need the napkin. When our friends die, the napkin is laid aside for

us to use, but do our ascended brethren and sisters use it? No, the Lord

God hath wiped away all tears from their eyes. We stand and view the

corpses of the dear departed, we moisten their faces with our tears, letting

whole showers of grief fall on their heads, but do they weep? Oh, no.

Could they speak to us from the upper spheres, they would say, “weep not

for me, for I am glorified, Sorrow not for me. I have left a bad world

behind me, and have entered into a far better.” They have no napkin-they

weep not. Strange it is that those who endure death weep not; but those

who see them die are weepers. When the child is born it weeps when

others smile (say the Arabs), and when it dies it smiles while others weep.

It is so with the Christian. O blessed thing! The napkin is laid by itself,

because Christians will never want to use it when they die.

attention, and, I hope, with some profit to ourselves. But that is not all. I

love a religion which consists, in a great measure, of emotion. Now, if I

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had power, like a master I would touch the strings of your hearts, and fetch

a glorious tune of solemn music from them, for this is a deeply solemn

place, into which I have conducted you.

First, I would bid you stand and see the place where the Lord lay with

emotions of deep sorrow. O come, my beloved brother, thy Jesus once lay

there. He was a murdered man, my soul, and thou the murderer.

I slew him-this right hand struck the dagger to his heart. My deeds slew

Christ. Alas! I slew my best beloved; I killed him who loved me with an

everlasting love. Ye eyes, why do ye refuse to weep when ye see Jesus’

body mangled and torn? Oh! give rent to your sorrow, Christians, for ye

have good reason to do so I believe in what Hart says, that there was a

time in his experience when he could so sympathize with Christ, that he felt

more grief at the death of Christ than he did joy. It seemed so sad a thing

that Christ should have to die, and to me it often appears too great a price

for Jesus Christ to purchase worms with his own blood. Methinks I love

him so much that if I had seen him about to suffer, I should have been as

bad as Peter, and have said, “That be far from thee, Lord,” but then he

would have said to me, “Get thee behind me, Satan;” for he does not

approve of that love which would stop him from dying. “The cup which my

Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?” But I think, had I seen him

going up to his cross, I could fain have pressed him back, and said, “Oh!

Jesus, thou shalt not die; I cannot have it. Wilt thou purchase my life with a

price so dear?” It seems too costly for him who is the prince of life and

glory to let his fair limbs be tortured in agony; that the hands which carried

mercies should be pierced with accursed nails; that the temples that were

always clothed with love, should have cruel thorns driven through them. It

appears too much. Oh! weep, Christian, and let your sorrow rise. Is not the

price all but too great, that your Beloved should for you resign himself.

Oh! I should think if a person were saved from death by another, he would

always feel deep grief if his deliverer lost his life in the attempt. I had a

friend, who, standing by the side of a piece of frozen water saw a young

lad in it, and sprang upon the ice in order to save him. After clutching the

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boy he held him in his hands, and cried out, “Here he is! here he is! I have

saved him.” But just as they caught hold of the boy, he sank himself, and

his body was not found for some time afterwards, when he was quite dead.

Oh! it is so with Jesus. My soul was drowning. From heaven’s high portals

he saw me sinking in the depths of hell. He plunged in.

Ah! we may indeed regret our sin, since it slew Jesus.

Now, Christian, change thy note a moment. “Come, see the place here the

Lord lay,” with joy and gladness, He does not lie there now. Weep, when

ye see the tomb of Christ, but rejoice because it is empty. Thy sin slew him,

but his divinity raised him up. Thy guilt hath murdered him, but his

righteousness hath restored him. Oh! he hath burst the bonds of death; he

hath ungirt the cerements of the tomb, and hath come out more than

conqueror, crushing death beneath his feet. Rejoice, O Christian, for he is

not there-he is risen. “Come, see the place where the Lord lay.”

One more thought, and then I will speak a little concerning the doctrines

we may learn from this grave. “Come, see the place where the Lord lay”

with solemn awe, for you and I will have to lay there too.

It is a fact we do not often think of, that we shall all be dead in a little

while. I know that I am made of dust and not of iron, my bones are not

brass, nor my sinews steel: in a little while my body must crumble back to

its native elements. But do you ever try to picture to yourself the moment

of your dissolution? My friends, there are some of you who seldom realize

how old you are, how near you are to death. One way of remembering our

age is, to see how much remains. Think how old eighty is, and then see

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how few years there are before you will get there. We should remember

our frailty. Sometimes I have tried to think of the time of my departure. I

do not know whether I shall die a violent death or not, but I would to God

that I might die suddenly, for sudden death is sudden glory. I would I

might have such a blessed exit as Doctor Beaumont, and die in my pulpit

laying down my body with my charge, and ceasing at once to work and

live. But it is not mine to choose. Suppose I lie lingering for weeks in the

midst of pains, and griefs, and agonies, when that moment comes, that

moment which is too solemn for my lips to speak of, when the spirit leaves

the clay-let the physician put it off for weeks or years, as we say he does,

though he does not-when that moment comes oh, ye lips, be dumb, and

profane not its solemnity. When death comes, how is the strong man

bowed down. How doth the mighty man fall. They may say they will not

die, but there is no hope for them: they must yield, the arrow has gone

home. I knew a man who was a wicked wretch, and I remember seeing him

pace the floor of his bedroom, saying, “O God, I will not die, I will not

die.” When I begged him to lie on his bed, for he was dying, he said he

could not die while he could walk, and he would walk till he did die. Ah!

he expired in the utmost torments, always shrieking, “O God, I will not

die.” Oh! that moment, that last moment. See how clammy is the sweat

upon the brow, how dry the tongue how parched the lips. The man shuts

his eyes and slumbers, then opens them again; and if he be a Christian, I

can fancy he will say:

We know not when he is dying. One gentle sigh, and the spirit break away.

We can scarcely say “He is gone,” before the ransomed spirit takes its

mansion near the throne. Come to Christ’s tomb then, for the silent vault

must soon be your habitat ion. Come to Christ’s grave, for you must

slumber there. And even you, ye sinners, for one moment I will ask you to

come also, because ye must die as well as the rest of us. Your sins cannot

keep you from the jaws of death. I say, sinner, I want thee to look at

Christ’s sepulcher too, for when thou diest it may have done thee great

good to think of it. You have heard of Queen Elizabeth crying out that she

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would give an empire for a single hour; or, have you read the despairing

cry of the gentleman on board the “Arctic,” when it was going down, who

shouted to the boat “Come back! I will give you £30.000 if you will come

and take me in.” Ah! poor man it were but little if he had thirty thousand

worlds, if he could thereby prolong his life, “Skin for skin; yea, all that a

man hath will he give for his life “Some of you who can laugh this morning,

who came to spend a merry hour in this hall, will be dying, and then ye will

pray and crave for life, and shriek for another Sabbath day. Oh! how the

Sabbaths ye have wasted will walk like ghosts before you! Oh! how they

will shake their snaky hair in your eyes! How will ye be made to sorrow

and weep, because ye wasted precious hours, which, when they are gone,

are gone too far ever to be recalled. May God save you from the pangs of

remorse.

the place where the Lord lay, to learn a doctrine or two. What did you see

when you visited “the place where the Lord lay?” “He is not here: for he is

risen!” The first thing you perceive, if you stand by his empty tomb, is his

divinity. The dead in Christ shall rise first at the resurrection, but he who

rose first-their leader, rose in a different fashion. They rise by imparted

power. He rose by his own. He could not slumber in the grave, because he

was God. Death had no more dominion over him. There is no better proof

of Christ’s divinity, than that startling resurrection of his, when he rose

from the grave, by the glory of the Father. O Christian, thy Jesus is a God;

his broad shoulders that hold thee up are indeed divine; and here thou hast

the best proof of it-because he rose from the grave.

A second doctrine here taught, well may charm thee, if the Holy Spirit

apply it with power. Behold this empty tomb, O true believer: it is a sign of

thine acquittal and thy full discharge. If Jesus had not paid the debt, he

ne’er had risen from the grave. He would have lain there till this moment if

he had not cancelled the entire debt, by satisfying eternal vengeance. Oh!

beloved, is not that an overwhelming thought?

The heavenly turnkey came; a bright angel stepped from heaven and rolled

away the stone: but he would not have done so if Christ had not done all;

he would have kept him there; he would have said, “Nay, nay, thou art the

sinner now; thou hast the sins of all thine elect upon thy shoulder, and I

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will not let thee go free till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing.” In his

going free I see my own discharge.

As a justified man, I have not a sin against me in God’s book. If I were to

turn over God’s eternal book I should see every debt of mine receipted and

cancelled.

One more doctrine we learn, and with that we will conclude-the doctrine of

the resurrection. Jesus rose, and as the Lord our Savior rose, so all his

followers must rise. Die I must-this body must be a carnival for worms, it

must be eaten by those tiny cannibals: peradventure it shall be scattered

from one portion of the earth to another; the constituent particles of this

my frame will enter into plants, from plants pass into animals, and thus be

carried into far distant realms; but at the blast of the archangel’s trumpet

every separate atom of my body shall find its fellow; like the bones lying in

the valley of vision, though separated from one another, the moment God

shall speak, the bone will creep to its bore, then the flesh shall come upon

it. The four winds of heaven shall blow, and the breath shall return. So, let

me die, let beasts devour me, let fire turn this body into gas and vapor, all

its particles shall yet again be restored; this very selfsame actual body shall

start up from its grave, glorified and made like Christ’s body, yet still the

same body, for God hath said it. Christ’s same body rose: so shall mine. O

my soul, dost thou now dread to die? Thou wilt lose thy partner body a

little while, but thou wilt be married again in heaven, soul and body shall

again be united before the throne of God. The grave-what is it? It is the

bath in which the Christian puts the clothes of his body to have them

washed and cleansed. Death-what is it? It is the waiting room where we

robe ourselves for immortality; it is the place where the body, like Esther,

bathes itself in spices, that it may be fit for the embrace of its Lord. Death

is the gate of life; I will not fear to die, then, but will say,

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Come view the place, then, with all-hallowed meditation, where the Lord

lay. Spend this afternoon, my beloved brethren, in meditating upon it, and

very often go to Christ’s grave both to weep and to rejoice. Ye timid ones,

do not be afraid to approach, for ‘tis no vain thing to remember that

timidity buried Christ. Faith would not have given him a funeral at all; faith

would have kept him above ground, and would never have let him been

buried, for it would have said it would be useless to bury Christ if he were

to rise. Fear buried him. Nicodemus, the night disciple, and Joseph of

Arimathea, secretly, for fear of the Jews, went and buried him. Therefore,

ye timid ones, ye may go too. Ready-to-halt, poor Fearing, and thou Mrs.

Despondency, and Much-afraid, go often there, let it be your favourite

haunt, there build a tabernacle, there abide. And often say to your heart,

when you are in distress and sorrow, “Come, see the place where the Lord

lay.”