| |
| JESUS was there but yesterday. The prints | |
| Of his departing feet were at the door; | |
| His “Peace be with you!” was yet audible | |
| In the rapt porch of Mary’s charmed ear; | |
| And, in the low rooms, ’twas as if the air, | 5 |
| Hushed with his going forth, had been the breath | |
| Of angels left on watch—so conscious still | |
| The place seem’d of his presence! Yet, within, | |
| The family by Jesus loved were weeping, | |
For Lazarus lay dead.
And Mary sat | 10 |
| By the pale sleeper. He was young to die. | |
| The countenance whereon the Saviour dwelt | |
| With his benignant smile—the soft fair lines | |
| Breathing of hope—were still all eloquent, | |
| Like life well mock’d in marble. That the voice, | 15 |
| Gone from those pallid lips, was heard in heaven, | |
| Toned with unearthly sweetness—that the light. | |
| Quench’d in the closing of those stirless lids, | |
| Was veiling before God its timid fire, | |
| New-lit, and brightening like a star at eve— | 20 |
| That Lazarus, her brother, was in bliss, | |
| Not with this cold clay sleeping—Mary knew. | |
| Her heaviness of heart was not for him! | |
| But close had been the tie by death divided. | |
| The intertwining locks of that bright hair | 25 |
| That wiped the feet of Jesus, the fair hands | |
| Clasp’d in her breathless wonder while He taught, | |
| Scarce to one pulse thrill’d more in unison, | |
| Than with one soul this sister and her brother | |
| Had lock’d their lives together. In this love, | 30 |
| Hallow’d from stain, the woman’s heart of Mary | |
| Was, with its rich affections, all bound up. | |
| Of an unblemish’d beauty, as became | |
| An office by archangels fill’d till now, | |
| She walk’d with a celestial halo clad; | 35 |
| And while, to the Apostles’ eyes it seem’d | |
| She but fulfill’d her errand out of heaven— | |
| Sharing her low roof with the Son of God— | |
| She was a woman, fond and mortal still; | |
| And the deep fervour, lost to passion’s fire, | 40 |
| Breathed through the sister’s tenderness. In vain | |
| Knew Mary, gazing on that face of clay, | |
| That it was not her brother. He was there— | |
| Swathed in that linen vesture for the grave— | |
| The same loved one in all his comeliness— | 45 |
| And with him to the grave her heart must go. | |
| What though he talked of her to angels? nay— | |
| Hover’d in spirit near her?—’twas that arm, | |
| Palsied in death, whose fond caress she knew! | |
| It was that lip of marble with whose kiss, | 50 |
| Morning and eve, love hemm’d the sweet day in. | |
| This was the form by the Judean maids | |
| Praised for its palm-like stature, as he walk’d | |
| With her by Kedron in the eventide— | |
| The dead was Lazarus! * * * * * | 55 |
| The burial was over, and the night | |
| Fell upon Bethany—and morn—and noon. | |
| And comforters and mourners went their way— | |
| But death stay’d on! They had been oft alone, | |
| When Lazarus had follow’d Christ to hear | 60 |
| His teachings in Jerusalem: but this | |
| Was more than solitude. The silence now | |
| Was void of expectation. Something felt | |
| Always before, and loved without a name,— | |
| Joy from the air, hope from the opening door, | 65 |
| Welcome and life from off the very walls,— | |
| Seem’d gone; and in the chamber where he lay | |
| There was a fearful and unbreathing hush, | |
| Stiller than night’s last hour. So fell on Mary | |
| The shadows all have known, whose bleeding hearts | 70 |
| Seem’d the torn gate through which the lov’d, departed, | |
| Broke from this world away. The parting soul | |
| Spreads wings betwixt the mourner and the sky! | |
| As if its path lay, from the tie last broken, | |
| Straight through the cheering gateway of the sun; | 75 |
| And, to the eye strain’d after, ’tis a cloud | |
That bars the light from all things.
Now as Christ | |
| Drew near to Bethany, the Jews went forth | |
| With Martha, mourning Lazarus. But Mary | |
| Sat in the house. She knew the hour was nigh | 80 |
| When He would go again, as He had said, | |
| Unto His Father; and she felt that He, | |
| Who loved her brother Lazarus in life, | |
| Had chose the hour, to bring him home through Death, | |
| In no unkind forgetfulness. Alone— | 85 |
| She could lift up the bitter prayer to heaven, | |
| “Thy will be done, O God!”—but that dear brother | |
| Had fill’d the cup and broke the bread for Christ. | |
| And ever, at the morn, when she had knelt | |
| And wash’d those holy feet, came Lazarus | 90 |
| To bind His sandals on, and follow forth | |
| With dropp’d eyes, like an angel, sad and fair— | |
| Intent upon the Master’s need alone. | |
| Indissolubly link’d were they! And now, | |
| To go to meet Him—Lazarus not there— | 95 |
| And to His greeting, answer, “It is well”— | |
| And, without tears, (since grief would weigh on Him | |
| Whose soul was over-sorrowful,) to kneel | |
| And minister alone—her heart gave way! | |
| She cover’d up her face and turn’d again | 100 |
| To wait within for Jesus. But once more | |
| Came Martha, saying, “Lo! the Lord is here, | |
| And calleth for thee, Mary!” Then arose | |
| The mourner from the ground, whereon she sate | |
| Shrouded in sackcloth; and bound quickly up | 105 |
| The golden locks of her dishevell’d hair; | |
| And o’er her ashy garments drew a veil— | |
| Hiding the eyes she could not trust. And still, | |
| As she made ready to go forth, a calm | |
As in a dream fell on her.
At a fount | 110 |
| Hard by the sepulchre, without the wall, | |
| Jesus awaited Mary. Seated near | |
| Were the way-worn disciples in the shade; | |
| But, of Himself forgetful, Jesus lean’d | |
| Upon His staff, and watched where she should come | 115 |
| To whose one sorrow—but a sparrow’s falling— | |
| The pity that redeem’d a world could bleed! | |
| And as she came, with that uncertain step,— | |
| Eager, yet weak,—her hands upon her breast,— | |
| And they who follow’d her all fallen back | 120 |
| To leave her with her sacred grief alone,— | |
| The heart of Christ was troubled. She drew near, | |
| And the disciples rose up from the fount, | |
| Moved by her look of woe, and gather’d round; | |
| And Mary—for a moment—ere she look’d | 125 |
| Upon the Saviour, stay’d her faltering feet,— | |
| And straighten’d her veiled form, and tighter drew | |
| Her clasp upon the folds across her breast; | |
| Then, with a vain strife to control her tears, | |
| She stagger’d to their midst, and at His feet | 130 |
| Fell prostrate, saying, “Lord! hadst Thou been here, | |
| My brother had not died!” The Saviour groan’d | |
| In spirit, and stoop’d tenderly, and raised | |
| The mourner from the ground, and in a voice | |
| Broke in its utterance like her own, He said, | 135 |
| “Where have ye laid him?” Then the Jews who came, | |
| Following Mary, answer’d through their tears, | |
| “Lord! come and see!” But lo! the mighty heart | |
| That in Gethsemane sweat drops of blood, | |
| Taking for us the cup that might not pass— | 140 |
| The heart whose breaking cord upon the cross | |
| Made the earth tremble, and the sun afraid | |
| To look upon his agony—the heart | |
| Of a lost world’s Redeemer—overflowed, | |
| Touch’d by a mourner’s sorrow! Jesus wept. | 145 |
| |
| Calm’d by those pitying tears, and fondly brooding | |
| Upon the thought that Christ so loved her brother, | |
| Stood Mary there; but that lost burthen now | |
| Lay on His heart, who pitied her; and Christ | |
| Following slow, and groaning in Himself, | 150 |
| Came to the sepulchre. It was a cave, | |
| And a stone lay upon it. Jesus said, | |
| “Take ye away the stone!” Then lifted He | |
| His moisten’d eyes to heaven, and while the Jews | |
| And the disciples bent their heads in awe, | 155 |
| And trembling Mary sank upon her knees, | |
The Son of God pray’d audibly.
He ceased, | |
| And for a minute’s space there was a hush, | |
| As if th’ angelic watchers of the world | |
| Had stay’d the pulses of all breathing things, | 160 |
| To listen to that prayer. The face of Christ | |
| Shone as He stood, and over Him there came | |
| Command, as ’twere the living face of God, | |
| And with a loud voice, he cried, “Lazarus! | |
| Come forth!” And instantly, bound hand and foot, | 165 |
| And borne by unseen angels from the cave, | |
| He that was dead stood with them. At the word | |
| Of Jesus, the fear-stricken Jews unloosed | |
| The bands from off the foldings of his shroud; | |
| And Mary, with her dark veil thrown aside, | 170 |
| Ran to him swiftly, and cried, “LAZARUS! | |
| MY BROTHER, LAZARUS!” and tore away | |
| The napkin she had bound about his head— | |
| And touched the warm lips with her fearful hand— | |
| And on his neck fell weeping. And while all | 175 |
| Lay on their faces prostrate, Lazarus | |
| Took Mary by the hand, and they knelt down | |
| And worshipped Him who loved them. | |
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