In Joseph’s Tomb
      
      
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        the Roman soldier. The divine patience of the Saviour, and His sud-
      
      
        den death, with the cry of victory upon His lips, had impressed this
      
      
        heathen. In the bruised, broken body hanging upon the cross, the
      
      
        centurion recognized the form of the Son of God. He could not refrain
      
      
        from confessing his faith. Thus again evidence was given that our
      
      
        Redeemer was to see of the travail of His soul. Upon the very day of
      
      
        His death, three men, differing widely from one another, had declared
      
      
        their faith,—he who commanded the Roman guard, he who bore the
      
      
        cross of the Saviour, and he who died upon the cross at His side.
      
      
        As evening drew on, an unearthly stillness hung over Calvary. The
      
      
        crowd dispersed, and many returned to Jerusalem greatly changed in
      
      
        spirit from what they had been in the morning. Many had flocked to
      
      
        the crucifixion from curiosity, and not from hatred toward Christ. Still
      
      
        they believed the accusations of the priests, and looked upon Christ
      
      
        as a malefactor. Under an unnatural excitement they had united with
      
      
        the mob in railing against Him. But when the earth was wrapped in
      
      
        blackness, and they stood accused by their own consciences, they felt
      
      
        guilty of a great wrong. No jest or mocking laughter was heard in the
      
      
        midst of that fearful gloom; and when it was lifted, they made their
      
      
        way to their homes in solemn silence. They were convinced that the
      
      
        charges of the priests were false, that Jesus was no pretender; and a
      
      
        few weeks later, when Peter preached upon the day of Pentecost, they
      
      
        were among the thousands who became converts to Christ.
      
      
        But the Jewish leaders were unchanged by the events they had
      
      
        witnessed. Their hatred of Jesus had not abated. The darkness that
      
      
        had mantled the earth at the crucifixion was not more dense than that
      
      
        which still enveloped the minds of the priests and rulers. At His birth
      
      
        the star had known Christ, and had guided the wise men to the manger
      
      
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        where He lay. The heavenly hosts had known Him, and had sung His
      
      
        praise over the plains of Bethlehem. The sea had known His voice,
      
      
        and had obeyed His command. Disease and death had recognized His
      
      
        authority, and had yielded to Him their prey. The sun had known Him,
      
      
        and at the sight of His dying anguish, had hidden its face of light.
      
      
        The rocks had known Him, and had shivered into fragments at His
      
      
        cry. Inanimate nature had known Christ, and had borne witness to His
      
      
        divinity. But the priests and rulers of Israel knew not the Son of God.
      
      
        Yet the priests and rulers were not at rest. They had carried out their
      
      
        purpose in putting Christ to death; but they did not feel the sense of