pit? What was it that revolutionised in a moment their notions of the
Cross and of its bearing upon them? What was it that changed
downhearted, despondent, and all but apostate, disciples into heroes
and martyrs? It was the one fact which Christendom commemorates to-
day: the resurrection of Jesus Christ. That was the element, added to
the dark potion, which changed it all in a moment into golden
flashing light. The resurrection was what made the death of Christ no
longer the occasion for the dispersion of His disciples, but bound
them to Him with a closer bond. And I venture to say that, unless the
first disciples were lunatics, there is no explanation of the changes
through which they passed in some eight-and-forty hours, except the
supernatural and miraculous fact of the resurrection of Jesus Christ
from the dead. That set a light to the thick column of smoke, and
made it blaze up a 'pillar of fire.' That changed sorrow into joy.
The same death which, before the resurrection, drew a pall of
darkness over the heavens, and draped the earth in mourning, by
reason of that resurrection which swept away the cloud and brought
out the sunshine, became the source of joy. A dead Christ was the
Church's despair; a dead and risen Christ is the Church's triumph,
because He is 'the Christ that died... and is alive for evermore.'

But, more generally, let me remind you how this very same principle,
which applies directly and historically to the resurrection of our
Lord, may be legitimately expanded so as to cover the whole ground of
devout men's sorrows and calamities. Sorrow is the first stage, of
which the second and completed stage is transformation into joy.
Every thundercloud has a rainbow lying in its depths when the sun
smites upon it. Our purest and noblest joys are transformed sorrows.
The sorrow of contrite hearts becomes the gladness of pardoned
children; the sorrow of bereaved, empty hearts may become the