May, 1880.

THE THREE GARDENS:
EDEN, GETHSEMANE, AND THE GARDEN WHERE THEY

LAID HIM.
BY THE REV. J. CULROSS, M.A., D.D.

V.-The Garden where they laid Him. . . In ancient days Jerusalem was—what it might again become-one of the most beautiful mountain cities known. It lay well south on that broken limestone table-land, cleft by deep glens, which extends from the Plain of Esdraelon to Hebron. The Psalms describe it as “beautiful for situation," " the joy of the whole earth," or builded as a city that is compact together," with "mountains round about," which not merely formed natural battlements against invaders, but symbolized the high protection wherewith God surrounds His people. Except partially on the north-west, it was girt with deep ravines, wbich swept round and met on the south-east. Viewed from the Mount of Olives, its grey walls, its temple that shone with the whiteness.of snow, its towers and palaces and lines of streets, formed a picture never to be forgotten.

In the suburbs, beyond the city walls, were numerous gardens and orchards, which furnished a pleasant retreat from the close and sultry town. In one of these gardens there was a rock-hewn sepulchre, belonging to Joseph of Arimathea and designed for his own last resting-place, which had never yet been occupied. This Joseph was a secret disciple of Jesus; and after the crucifixion, he and Nicodemus, another secret disciple, having obtained the permission of the Roman governor, took down the dead Christ from the cross, and laid Him in this garden-sepulchre. It had to be done hurriedly, owing to the nearness of the Sabbath day ; but they found time to wash the body from blood and dust, and to wrap it in fine linen with a hundred pounds' weight of spices in the folds. The eleven took no part in the service : only a few loving Galilean women watched till all was over, and, when they saw the stone rolled to the door of the sepulchre, * sadly withdrew. By an after - thought of the chief priests and Pharisees, the governor permitted that the stone should be sealed and a guard of Roman soldiers stationed to make sure that none of His friends removed the body, and then gave out that He was risen from the dead.

The site of this garden is now lost to knowledge. Tradition places it within the walls of the modern city, not more than five hundred yards from the Haram area, and marks the spot where the body was laid by the so-called “Church of the Holy Sepulchre.” It is now many years since Dr. Robinson showed that the traditional site cannot be accepted; but he did nothing to determine, or even to suggest, another. Since then Mr. Fergusson * has endeavoured to establish the theory that the crucifixion took place on the east and not on the west of the city, almost close to the Temple, and that the rock-hewn tomb is covered by the building called the Mosque of Omar, or (as Moslems name it) the Dome of the Rock. His views in turn are energetically controverted on various grounds; and so, at the present time, the precise locality must be beld undetermined, except that it lay quite near the city but outside the walls.

In this garden sepulchre, then, the dead Christ was laid ; and the few who had been actors or witnesses then withdrew, and rested the Sabbath day according to the commandment. Of all days before or since in the world's history that Sabbath stands by itself. The “flesh” of the Holy Redeemer rested in hope in the cold bosom of the tomb ; His spirit was in “ Paradise.” Where Scripture is silent it becomes us to be diffident; we may not imagine what emotion was stirred among the heavenly hosts, what joy was " radiant in celestial eyes,” or how, among the powers of darkness, mingling with their triumph, there would be forebodings of dismay, their seeming victory carrying in its bosom a mighty, undefined dread. But we know how it was in Jerusalem. The excitement of yesterday is followed by the deep Sabbatic stillness. Multitudes, as usual, crowd the Temple courts, and the services proceed as they have done for centuries. To the little band of disciples it is a day of sorrow; now they feel themselves " orphans " in very deed; the great hopes that had inspired their breasts seem to be quenched for ever; the “ leading star of love" has set behind a cloud. The chief priests and elders could be but ill-content with their success; in the very hour of fruition they must have had the secret pain of successful sin, and strange misgivings that they could neither account for nor banish. Jesus is out of the way, crucified and buried; yet they fear the dead man still. And so the Sabbath day passed, and the darkness fell.

On the morning that followed, the mighty " Prisoner" came forth from the prison house; for it was not possible that He should be hoiden therein. We have no account of the resurrection itself save a few lines in the Gospel of Matthew. Early in the morning, Matthew tells us, there was a great earthquake; the angel of the Lord, with countenance like lightning and raiment white as snow, descended from heaven and rolled back the stone from the door of the sepulchre and sat upon it ; while the sentinels did quake and became as dead men. Without human witness, friendly or hostile, the Lord arose, the angel rolling back the stone at His coming as a servant might open a gate for a king to ride through.

There are two things to note with regard to the time of the resurrection. First, it was the early morning. The women from Galilee set out to visit the sepulchre " while it was yet dark," and on their arrival they found it empty. Just with day-dawn the Lord seems to bave left the place. Second, it was the spring-time--the prime of nature's gladness. The earth, awaking from its winter sleep, was already clad in bright, refreshing green; the air was “full of dew and sweetness ;' the sky was cloudless; the time of the singing of birds was come; the garden in which the sepulchre lay was bursting forth in bud and blossom. One cannot help seeing in all this a kind of nature-symbolism of deliverance from the reign of death, pointing to Him in whom resides " the power of an endless life."

From beside this empty garden sepulchre the disciples went forth preaching " Jesus and the resurrection,” and “their line is gone out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world.” The world, walking by sense, thinks little of the risen Christ. He is merely one who lived long ago, and “ finished ” His work by dying on & cross; a grand, dim figure in the fading past, not their Friend and Trust in the living present. The gospel proclaims Him“ the Prince of life," who liveth blessedly, royally, eternally, above the power of death for evermore, and who has given this assurance to all who believe in His name and love Him: “Because I live, ye shall live also."

It were a very poor gospel that should miss out the cross ; it is just as poor a gospel that misses out the resurrection. As the apostles preached, both have their place in the message of reconcilation. “He was delivered for our offences, and raised again for our justification." The resurrection of Jesus from the grave is the Divine signet set to His mighty claims as the Son of God ; it gives as assurance that His one offering for sin is accepted; it is God's Yea to that voice from the cross, “ It is finished ; " it is promise and type of the resurrection of all believers ; for “ if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also who sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him."

We have not only a direct personal interest in this matter, but also a very tender interest in connection with dear ones who sleep in Jesus. We remember all that they were to us, and all the love that was between us; how their voices blended with ours in worship; how we kneeled and prayed together at the Father's footstool ; how we walked in close companionship as fellow-pilgrims after the Holy One--and they are gone from our side. Sometimes in dreams we think we have got back again

" The touch of a vanished hand,

And the sound of a voice that is still:''

but we awake to a fresh sense of desolation. Shall we ever awake to a joyous reunion ? to clasp again the hands, to hear the salutation, and to meet the looks of those we loved so well when here? The resurrection of Jesus is the answer. He has been to Golgotha, and shown Himself there the Prince of life. In the central and dismallest gloom of death's domains He has lighted up an everlasting splendour. He is risen, not for Himself alone, but as the first-fruits of them that sleep. As leader of His ransomed, His resurrection is promise, pledge, type of theirs. They are not perished-our dear ones who sleep in Jesus; but like as He rose by the glory of the Father, they too shall come forth from their silent chambers to immortal and glorious life, “the dust swept from their beauty," not a single tint of their loveliness perished, stainless as if sin had never touched them, to share His glory in that

“promised hour, When at His feet shall lie All rule, authority, and power

Beneath the ample sky." “ Vanity of vanities, all is vanity," is bursting forth from ten thousand hearts which the world bas disappointed. Throughout society we find unrest, heart-weariness, repining, vain regrets, selfwilled rebelliousness, grasping at shadows, eager rushing after pleasures that cannot satisfy. What does it all mean? What but this—that men have not yet found a Saviour who saves ? Just here comes in the gospel of the resurrection — the gospel of a living Redeemer, close beside us, inviting our heart's trust, casting out none who come unto Him, but receiving them as “ given of the Father," whose death on the cross forms an ever-availing atonement for sin, on whose almighty mercy the guiltiest may cast himself, in whose everlasting arms we may feel ourselves eternally safe. Jesus is risen Jesus is living—Jesus is on the right hand of God-Jesus is able to save to the uttermost—this was the faith of the first days, and made them glorious. The reviving of this faith in' living power would be for the whole Church of Christ the breaking up of spiritual stagnation, the quickening of dormant energies, the kindling of loftier worship, the inspiring of unknown joys, the deepening of love, the renewing of strength, the dawning of a day as wonderful as Pentecost.

117

“ MINISTERS' sons are very apt to tracted by something glistening turn out badly,” said I to the about the coat which his friend gentleman who sat next to me in Blake, who sat next to him, had the railway carriage. We had met on. in the train for the first time, but “He looked closer, and saw that had struck up an acquaintance. the black cloth of which the coat

He stopped me with his hand was made had been worn so thin on my arm, and with an earnest and smooth that it was very shiny. look which I shall never forget. "Well, Blake,' said he, suddenly

I paused at once in what I was taking hold of his friend's arm saying, and it seemed for a moment cordially (which he somehow hadn't almost as if the rushing train had thought of doing before), 'how has stopped to listen too.

the world gone with you lately?' o Let me tell you a story,” said “Blake had a naturally sad and he. “I know it is a common thoughtful face; but he looked belief that ministers' sons are round quickly, with a warm smile. wild, but that is because people “No need to ask,' he said, talk about the bad ones, while laughing. You can read the those who turn out well are taken whole story on my back. This old as a matter of course. I gathered coat is a sort of balance - sheet, statistics about them, once, and which shows my financial condition found that out of a thousand sons to a T.' of ministers, there were very few “ Then he spoke more seriously, who did not grow up useful and adding, 'It is a pretty hard life. industrious men.”

| Williston, that of a country parson. " But what is your story?" I I don't complain of my lot, though asked, settling back in my seat. sometimes I'm distressed for my

" Well,” said he, “it begins with family. The fact is, this coat I've got a college supper in B- , a dozen on is hardly fit for a man of my proyears ago. A number of old college fession to appear in ; but I'm going friends had gathered in the even- to send my boy Sam to college ing for their annual reunion. this year, and must pinch here and Among them was the rich mer- there to do it. I really ought to be chant, J. E. Williston -- perhaps thankful, though, that I can get you have heard of him—and a poor such advantages for him by a few pastor of a country church, whose little sacrifices of personal appearname was Blake. A good many of ance and convenience. the class had died, and the dozen "Don't you give a thought to or so elderly men who were left felt your coat, old fellow,' returned more tender than ever towards each Williston. “Nobody who knows other as they thought of the bright you will ever imagine that the heart old days at college, and how soon inside of it is threadbare, however no one would be left on earth who the garment may look.' shared in that happy time.

" Blake was pleased with this “ The dishes came and went, the kindly expression; and both men, lights glowed brilliantly, and at after that exchange of confidence, last the friends grew quite gay. felt happier. But among the But the tender feeling I have spoken various incidents of the evening, of would come uppermost now and this one almost passed out of the then; and in one of these musing minister's mind by the next day moments Williston's eye was at- when he started for home.