We are worshipping together at the Shrine of the Ages on the very brink of the south rim of the Grand Canyon of Arizona. A strange hush has fallen about us. Even nature seems inspired by the prospect of another Easter sunrise. Not wishing you to miss any of the glorious beauty, we take you now to a small overhanging projection of rock jutting out from the very edge of the Canyon rim, whence you will hear a word picture of the rare splendor of the sunrise we are about to see.

Again we are alone with the stillness of Time!

As far as our eyes can see there's not a single suggestion of motion! It's the Grand Canyon-the silent custodian of infinite mysteries -- asleep -- waiting for the smile of an Easter sun. For thirteen miles straight ahead to the clean cut line of the Canyon's sweeping north rim there's little to be seen but a soft sea of blue haze. What a contrast to the fresh crimson glow that's already streaking its way deep into the dome of the sky.

From the miles of dull twilight at our feet will soon emerge the stern realities of the Canyon. Great monarchs of stone will lift their grotesque faces from the lingering darkness. A million slopes of crumbling shale will reflect the glory of the sunrise in colors that never fade. Bold and barren cliffs will show the coldness of unfeeling faces. Wind and water swept ledges and plateaus will meet the challenge of the new day determined to cling to their places in the sun in spite of the cruelty of the elements. The blackened granite of the Canyon's titanic inner gorge will come out of the gloom here and there just long enough to remind us that it was here when the world began.

Along the horizon the forces of the sun are gathering rapidly. Droves of little shadow chasers are dropping over the rims of the Canyon into the yawning cracks and crevices to the right and to the left of us. Look at them scampering down the world famous Bright Angel Trail, racing around those tortuous turns as though it were only a hop skip and a jump to the bottom of the Canyon. If we were making the trip over this same trail, a full half day would be required to travel the seven and one-half miles of this ragged ribbon to the waters edge.

With startling swiftness, tremendous reaches of the Canyon are springing into view. The towering bluntness of an angular hulk of stone comes drifting in and out of nowhere. It's the sprawling battleship formation that has held the fascinated gaze of travelers from all over the world. For centuries it has been anchored here -- constantly buffeted by the will of the winds, but always at peace with the world.

Yonder in greater depths loom the dim outlines of a sunken fastness all its own. It is the Bright Angel Canyon -- a terrific cut. Sullen pools of night will lurk for hours in shelter of its soaring walls.

This is the handiwork of the Master Builder! His infinite patience is carved into every line of this bewildering monument. Before so magnificent a manifestation of His greatness we are overwhelmed by that eternal question -- "What is man that thou art mindful of him?"

The call of the dawn is echoing across the broad expanse of the heavens. The Shrine of the Ages is bathed in the full richness of a kingly gold. The Grand Canyon is beginning to blaze with the dazzling light of its one ageless inheritance -- the sun that has warmed the hearts of these rocks for millions of years. Here is true revelation -- the innermost secrets of creation resurrected before our very eyes by the sun of an Easter dawn. Surely there could be no greater inspiration for song and triumph than this. Listen to the winds, wistful vagabonds they are, always chiselling away at the rocks of the ages. As though to light their busy way, the faithful sun is driving its piercing beams farther and farther into the depths below. As night is rolled away we see the Canyon as an almost unbelievable miracle in weirdly sculptured stone. Scattered abroad throughout this open sepulcher is an endless patchwork of stately turrets and spires, ponderous buttes, gigantic pyramids, temples of such size as to dwarf the world's greatest cathedral. Coloring it all are the ashes of old ancient fires -- a brilliant symphony of vivid reds, greens, blues, yellows and greys. Through it all -- more than a mile below the level of the Canyon's north and south rims rolls the mighty Colorado River -- even as we now complete our dedication of the Shrine of the Ages by actually rolling away the last stone from this permanent site of our future Easter devotions together.

Listen. ...

Used by permission of the Grand Canyon Pioneers Society.

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