He is not here. He is risen!

Mary from Magdala, Joanna, and Mary, the mother of James, and others went too; their hearts were heavy with grief as they made their way to the garden, where their beloved Yahweh had been placed in the sepulchre of Joseph of Arimathaea.
They brought with them precious herbs and spices, oil and clean linens, intent were they to cleanse most gently, then embalm and rewrap in fresh linens this most Precious of men. This Man who had cast demons out of some, healed others, and brought new life to yet others. This Man who had lived His short life caring for others. This Man who, in His last agonizing moments, gave hope to the penitent malefactor: Truthfully speak I to you. This very day we shall be together in Paradise!
Questions swirled among them: Why did He have to die? What was the reason for it all? How will they continue without Him? Where will they turn? When will they see Him again? And now yet another one posed itself to them: How on earth will they roll away the stone? For they had been there on Friday, and seen where He had been lain, and seen how that huge stone had been rolled across the front of the sepulchre, sealed, and was now guarded by Roman soldiers, who guarded it with their lives.
It is curious to note that all these questions did nothing to deter them from continuing their mission. Something compelled them on to do that which common sense would have them not. Something was urging them on, filling them with faith and courage as they went. promising them answers.
And courage they would need, by and by. For an earthquake heralded the angel's descent, as he rolled away the great stone of the sepulchre; and he sat upon it, waiting for the women. His eyes and face blazed like lightening fire, and his garments shone white as sun-drenched snow, causing the Roman soldiers unspeakable fear as they fainted dead away. And so he sat, and waited.
They didn't run away. The Lord had prepared their hearts, and the angel of the Lord assured them: Don't be afraid. I know that you're looking for Jesus, Who was crucified. He is not here, for He is risen, as He said. Come and see the place where He lay. And go quickly, and tell His disciples that He is risen from the dead, and that He will see them in Galilee. I have told you the truth.
Just imagine their joy, their exhilaration, their fear, as they ran back to tell the disciples. Their abrupt astonishment, as they beheld Jesus Himself in the garden: Salvete! Just imagine their utter bliss as they bowed down at His feet and worshipped Him. He, confirming the message of the heavenly being at the sepulchre, urged them to go, tell.
And down through the ages echoes the sorrowful cry of the Centurian, as, grieving, he proclaimed: Truly, this was the Son of God!
Hope for all whose hearts are moved by sorrow at their need for a Saviour! For a broken heart He will not despise! He will cover them with His feathers, and they will find refuge under His wings! For the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead will bring to life that which was dead in us: He will quicken our mortal bodies and give new life to us! Halleluia!

If I had an alabaster jar filled with precious ointment, I, too, would break its top and anoint Him, and honour Him, so thankful am I for this new life that He has given me; a life once devoid of all hope, most wretched. He has turned my mourning into joy!