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.
“Ah, you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were,
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.”
“Alas! and did my Saviour bleed?
And did my Sov’reign die?”
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 vent to your sorrow, Christians, for ye have good reason to do so…
My soul was drowning. From heaven’s high portals he saw me sinking in the depths of hell. He plunged in.
“He SANK beneath his heavy woes,
To raise me to a crown;
There’s ne’er a gift his hand bestows.
But cost his heart a groan.”
Ah! we may indeed regret our sin, since it slew Jesus.
Now, Christian, change thy note a moment. “Come, see the place where 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.
The New Park Street Pulpit Sermons, Vol. I (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1855), 137. eBook. Vol. 1, Sermon No. 18; Titled: The Tomb of Jesus; Delivered on Sabbath Morning, April 8th, 1855.