Then a voice, full of sympathy, spake from a cloud which rested far above, saying, "Calvary revealeth her wonders. Prepare to witness the last struggle of the Redeemer, as he meets in death the destroyer."

As this voice ceased, the chief guardian raised her eyes and holy hands, saying, "O! Lord Our Preserver, bestow upon us supporting aid. Preserve our minds while we may witness. Prepare us to understand. Pervade us with meekness, reverence, and holy love."

"Around this scene," continued the voice, "gather interests as lasting as immortality, as momentous as the worth of undying spirits.

"Let the sun be darkened, and the stars be veiled. Let nature pause, and heaven keep silence. Ye seraphim and ye cherubim, lay down your celestial instruments, upon which ye utter anthems most holy, while the scene transpires. Ye floral universes, droop your heads; and hang down your leaves, ye bowers. Ye waters, stand still, nor let the rippling murmur break the silence. Ye birds who warble in immortal groves be ye dumb; and pause ye breezes while the Redeemer suffers."

Then appeared Calvary beneath pale shadows. A throng was perceptible, who were apparently transfixed. In the center were three crosses, on which, human forms were hanging. Near them were a band of soldiers, seated as if they had been engaged in gaming; but they too were fixed in an attitude, as if stunned from some unexpected cause.

Mournful murmurings were heard as though at a great distance. These murmurings seemed to still the very spirit of life in all. And a feeling of gloom, approaching utter despair, was visible upon the countenance of every spirit.

At length a low whisper passed from guardian to guardian, saying, "List! nature breathes a solemn requiem! Nature suffers. Alas! alas!" Again all was still. No sound or movement disturbed the silent gloom.

Gradually a pale light shone over Calvary, revealing more clearly the scene. And the three crosses became more visible, until the form and features of the sufferers were plainly distinguished.

"It is Jesus! Jesus suffers! Jesus expires!" burst from every spirit. A sudden shuddering seized them; and they bowed their faces, still repeating, "Jesus suffers! Jesus expires!"

While they were thus bowing, Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

"Oh! what love, what wonderful goodness," exclaimed the humble spirits. "He prays for his crucifiers. Give us, O! thou Supreme, of that spirit evermore."

While Jesus prayed, the soldiers and the rulers derided him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself, if he be the Christ, the chosen of God." This cold and cruel taunt caused the spirits to raise their heads, and look steadfastly upon the scene. But their sympathy and sorrow can never be revealed.

Near the Cross were bowing a few of the friends of Jesus, who were past weeping, from their excess of sorrow. Agony held them even as death holds the pale corpse. One of that little company was Mary, the mother of Jesus, who had ever lingered near him during his sufferings, but who appeared conscious of the certainty of his trial. She suffered with him. As a holy mother she suffered, but could not save.

Jesus turning his eye upon the group, said to Mary, "Woman, behold thy son." Then addressing the beloved disciple, he said, "Behold thy mother." And thus in his agony he displayed his humanity, and invited the disciple to support Mary who was sinking beneath her weight of grief.

The disciple then supported Mary, who leaned upon him as she looked upon her Son in his last trial.

Then one of the malefactors who was crucified with Jesus, railed on him, saying, "If thou be Christ, save thyself and us." To this the Lord made no reply, but looked in pity upon him. The other malefactor rebuked his fellow, saying, "We receive the due reward of our deeds, but this man hath done nothing amiss." Then in a devout manner said to Jesus, "Those who have let thee here exult in their folly. They vainly suppose thee conquered and slain; but I feel from thee an influence superior to man. Thou art from everlasting to everlasting. Mystery hangeth about thee, O Lord! I know that in thee exist the fountains of life. Thou livest evermore. Wilt thou, O Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom?" Then the Lord looked upon him, and love from his spirit overshadowed and pervaded the suppliant. The Holy Spirit wrought in his heart that change necessary to his union with the enduring principles of divine life and love. And in answer to his prayer, Jesus said, "Inasmuch as thou hast from thy heart sought help, thy prayer is answered. Verily I say unto thee, this day shalt thou be with me in paradise." This reply was like life given to the dead; and the malefactor, although in the agonies of death, manifested that emotion which bespoke a soul forgiven, a spirit made free. His was a reprieve, not from the execution of the sentence of an earthly tribunal, but Heaven’s pardon—a release from the power of sin and death. He feared no more. All heaven, through Jesus, had been secured in the last and trying moment. His physical sufferings appeared to operate as holy enchantment to charm the body to rest, while the soul shone forth amid the darkness, and hovered over the death-gulf ready for its happy flight its exit from death to life, from mortality to the possession of eternal realities. While this scene was transpiring, the mockers around the cross had not noticed the Divinity of Jesus manifested in the forgiveness of sin. But the angels and infants beheld with wonder and gratitude the goodness displayed in that trying moment. And so deep was the impression, that ever after, when referring to the crucifixion, the infants would name the thief, speak of his prayer, and the propitious answer of the Redeemer,—that answer by which all heaven was given to the dying sinner.