The readings for Holy Saturday (during the day, not the readings for the Vigil on Saturday evening) are beautiful in their own right. I think I may need to have a service on that occasion just to get a chance to preach on these pasages.
But I also think that this reading from Job ought to make the grade for this day when Jesus lays broken and resting in the tomb:
My face is red with weeping,
and deep darkness is on my eyelids,
though there is no violence in my hands,
and my prayer is pure.
‘O earth, do not cover my blood;
let my outcry find no resting-place.
Even now, in fact, my witness is in heaven,
and he that vouches for me is on high.
My friends scorn me;
my eye pours out tears to God,
that he would maintain the right of a mortal with God,
as one does for a neighbor.
For when a few years have come,
I shall go the way from which I shall not return.
My spirit is broken, my days are extinct,
the grave is ready for me.
If I look for Sheol as my house,
if I spread my couch in darkness,
if I say to the Pit, “You are my father”,
and to the worm, “My mother”, or “My sister”,
where then is my hope?
Who will see my hope?
Will it go down to the bars of Sheol?
Shall we descend together into the dust?’
Job 16.16-22, 17.1,13-16
Shall we descend together into the dust? Indeed it is the question of the day. But it will not be our question for long.