And minister alone-her heart gave way!
She cover'd up her face, and turn'd again
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
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

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 watch'd where she should come
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

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 wo, and gather'd round;
And Mary-for a moment-ere she look'd
Upon the Saviour, stay'd her faltering feet,—
And straighten'd her veil'd 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

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,

"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-
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-overflow'd,

Touch'd by a mourner's sorrow! Jesus wept.

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,
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,
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,
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,
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,
Ran to him swiftly, and cried, "Lazarus!
MY BROTHER, LAZARUS!" and tore away
The napkin she had bound about his head-
And touch'd the warm lips with her fearful hand-

And on his neck fell weeping. And while all Lay on their faces prostrate, Lazarus

Took Mary by the hand, and they knelt down

And worshipp'd Him who loved them.

THOUGHTS WHILE MAKING THE GRAVE OF A NEW-BORN CHILD.

ROOM, gentle flowers! my child would pass to heaven!

Ye look'd not for her yet with your soft eyes,

O watchful ushers at Death's narrow door!
But lo! while you delay to let her forth,
Angels, beyond, stay for her! One long kiss
From lips all pale with agony, and tears,
Wrung after anguish had dried up with fire
The eyes that wept them, were the cup of life
Held as a welcome to her. Weep! oh mother!
But not that from this cup of bitterness
A cherub of the sky has turn'd away.

One look upon thy face ere thou depart!

My daughter! It is soon to let thee go!
My daughter! With thy birth has gush'd a spring

I knew not of-filling my heart with tears,
And turning with strange tenderness to thee-
A love-oh God! it seems so-that must flow
Far as thou fleest, and 'twixt heaven and me,
Henceforward, be a bright and yearning chain
Drawing me after thee! And so, farewell!