The First Easter

1917

Rosily dawned the day in the far east. On the shore the cool waves broke gently, fluttering foamy drops on the yellow sand. Away from the rocky stretches of green, lilies bloomed slender and tall, while with cups curving to catch the errant little breeze which carried their sweetness beyond the hills. In the stony crevices wild flowers glinted out from dew wet leaves. Half hidden by pale lily blooms, a dark stone guarded the entrance to a cave among the rocks.

Early in the dawning Sabbath glow, two women, gentle voiced and sorrowing, came slowly down a flowered path, bearing in their arms perfumed napkins and precious spices in carved boxes. They were clad in flowing gray garments, and their heads were bent in meek weeping.

As they drew nearer to the lily sentineled tomb, the one who walked ahead raised her eyes, dark with pain, to the open doorway, and quick wonder lighted their depths, and she turned, whispering: "Ah! Mary Magdalene, the stone already is rolled away. He hath done this thing."

With eager steps they left the growing day and entered the darkened sepulcher. But as they went they saw two angels seated at the tomb, two men with strong, glorified faces and glad, bright eyes, and their robes were bright as if the sunlight were shining through. The two Marys paused, startled, awed by the great light.

Then the mother of Christ knelt low and wept but a voice thrillingly tender called to her saying, "Woman, why weepest thou?"

And she lifted her eyes at the words and answered softly, "Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him."

But the voice came again, glad and full of rejoicing: "Fear not ye, for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified He is not here, for he is risen!"

Wondering, the mother gazed, her starry eyes searching the brightened sepulcher. Then she rose and walked with Mary Magdalene from the place.

Descending the path in the golden sunlight, her gray robes brushed against the uplifted flowers, dew flecked, wondrous sweet. Stooping, she bent her head to the shining lilies "Live," she murmured, "as expression of the divine beauty of the Son of Man, as examples of his wondrous mercy and boundless love and as the symbol of his resurrection. Henceforth you shall be the flower of purity and spiritual beauty of the holy Easter day, of the great new life which floods the earth through the power of the Son of God." — Patricia Gray in Philadelphia North American.