stony rock" is here. This is the sweetness laid in store in the dead lion.

When our Lord had spoken of the death of Lazarus as a sleep; "Lord, if he sleep," said His disciples, "he shall do well" and surely we may say of him that sleepeth in Jesus that " he shall do well." No evil dream shall harm him in that sleep; no worldly surfeit shall oppress him and make that sleep heavy; he shall feel no nakedness who is clothed with the imperishable robe of Christ's righteousness; no care, no alarm, no injury shall harm him in that blissful slumber. He shall fear no fall; he shall be oppressed by no disquieting weight; he shall hear the footsteps of no enemy approaching any more. For the eternal God is his refuge; and underneath him are the everlasting arms.

JOHN HENRY PARKER, OXFORD AND LONDON.

Tracts for the Christian Seasons.

EASTER DAY.

Things before death.-Newness of life.

PROPER LESSONS: Morning, 1st. Exodus xii. ; 2nd. Rom. vi.;
Evening, 1st. Exodus xiv.; 2nd. Acts ii. to ver. 22.

EPISTLE, Coloss. iii. 1. GOSPEL, St. John xx. 1.

WHAT a fearful trial of the disciples' faith was made when their Master was really hanging on the cross, when He really died, when He seemed to be completely powerless in His enemies' hands, when all the might He had shewn in working many wonderful works seemed gone, when He appeared to be but a man in the power of men, the unresisting victim of His unrelenting and victorious foes, who though for a time held back by fear of the people, at last obtained their mastery and hunted Him down to death.

To have stood at the cross, to have beheld the weak, fainting, agonized form of their Lord, to have watched the scene to the end, to have seen death have its way, was enough certainly to have staggered many a heart; to have believed then, was indeed an extraordinary and wonderful act of faith; we feel that faith at such time was a

gift of God. There was every thing to shake faith, every thing to dismay, to stagger, to disappoint, to confuse. When it came to the hour of trial, Christ seemed powerless; under whatever influence He had wrought His miracles, that influence appeared either to be withdrawn or to be unequal to the task of His own deliverance. The taunt must have gone deep to many a heart, "He saved others, Himself He cannot save. This Jesus of Nazareth had had a wide fame as a prophet, as a worker of miracles, where was His power now? He was dying, He died, like other men. Whatever He had done to others, whatever wonderful tales were abroad, whatever He had been seen to do to others, what did He do to Himself, where was His strength? He shewed no power, no strength, when it came to His own case; He had healed others, but the physician did not heal Himself. Truly it was a startling sight; they that had built their hopes on Him had a trial, a searching fiery trial which it needed very wonderful gifts of God to endure. Such a death, such a shameful ignominious end, such utter degradation in dying, such appearance of helplessness, were facts that must have pierced many a loving heart even to the very core. Many a one who from

former miracles, or from the divine character of His teaching, was inclined to believe, must have had strange thoughts at the cross, and must have asked themselves, "Can this after all be He, the Messiah, Immanuel, God with us?"

It is really difficult in our day and under our circumstances to estimate the depth, the extent, the intensity of the trial which faith had to undergo when the scene of the cross was complete, when that was the last act, when that awful day came to a close, when Christ was really dead and lifted down from the cross, when there was every sign of mere manhood and no sign of Godhead, when there was every mark of weakness, of mortality, no mark of strength or life. Suppose ourselves to have seen the end of that day, to have seen the whole spectacle of sorrow to the end, what, rating ourselves as ordinary men, would have been our state of feeling? How should we have turned homewards. when all was over? Might we not have wavered in our faith?

And if the day of the cross was a day of trial, so also was the day of Christ's rest in the grave, which though differing from the day of agony and death, yet did not differ from it in any sign of divine power. It was indeed a day of awful still

ness, the stillness of the grave. In the grave did the lifeless, motionless body of Christ lie, quite lifeless, quite motionless, really and truly dead. Hour after hour passed on; the Sabbath began and the Sabbath waned; yet the stone was at the sepulchre, and Christ seemed still powerless. His was as any other tomb, all still, all calm, all under the power of death.

But pass from the cross, pass from the Sabbath after the day of the cross to the sepulchre on the third day; on the first day of the week, behold, all is changed! a new, strange, dazzling light breaks on the saddened, amazed, sorrowful souls of the disciples; what was powerless, is full of power; what was weak, is strong; what was conquered, is conqueror; what was dead, is alive again. Yea, He who seemed powerless and weak as any mortal man, overcome by death, now breaks the bonds, and casts away the cords from Him. Now like Samson He is full of new strength, now He puts forth power; now He rises like a giant refreshed with sleep; now the Victim, the Sacrifice, the bleeding slaughtered Lamb returns like Isaac from the wood, full of life; now He who was bound, nailed to the tree, crucified, dead, buried, has got back by His own power that which He yielded for a time;