Two villagers, having concluded their errand in Jerusalem, have started
out at the city gate, and are on their way to Emmaus, the place of their
residence.
They go with a sad heart. Jesus, who had been their admiration and their
joy, had been basely massacred and entombed.
As with sad face and broken heart they pass on their way, a stranger
accosts them. They tell him their anxieties and bitterness of soul. He,
in turn, talks to them, mightily expounding the Scriptures. He throws
over them the fascination of intelligent conversation. They forget the
time, and notice not the objects they pass, and, before they are aware,
have come up in front of their house.
They pause before the entrance, and attempt to persuade the stranger
to tarry with them. They press upon him their hospitalities. Night is
coming on, and he may meet a prowling wild beast, or be obliged to lie
unsheltered from the dew. He can not go much farther now. Why not stop
there, and continue their pleasant conversation? They take him by the
arm, and they insist on his coming in, addressing him in the words:
“Abide with us; for it is toward evening.”
The candles are lighted. The tables are spread. Pleasant sociabilities
are enkindled. They rejoice in the presence of the stranger guest. He
asks a blessing upon the bread they eat, and he hands a piece of it to
each.
Suddenly, and with overwhelming power, the thought flashes upon the
astonished people: “He is the Lord!” And as they sat in breathless
wonder, looking upon the resurrected body of Jesus, He vanished. The
interview was ended. He was gone.
The journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus will soon be ended. Our Bible, our
common sense and our observation reiterate this fact in tones that we can
not mistake, and which we ought not to disregard.