Classic Poem

Where should she go, if not to Him?
Her home was cold and desolate,
For there the sorrowing Mary sate,
Her eyes with ceaseless weeping dim.

She went and met Him; met her Lord,
As up the rocky slope He came, —
His pardoning spirit will not blame
The faithful girl, her hailing word.

In fond rebuke, she kneeling said, —
" Master, we sent Thee timely word,
Thou wert our own, our saving Lord, —
Thou didst not come, and he is dead! "

Life flows in Jesus; soon her grief
Was past; her brother raised from death;
To us who meet the Lord in faith,
His presence is eternal life.