Lazarus
The morning shone upon Judea's range
Of rifted marble as a pilgrim pale,
Journeying from Bethabara, the rough
And gloomy gorges traversed with a band
Of earnest followers. Behind them frowned
The baffled wilderness where vultures preyed
And hungry tigers crouched. The angered peaks
Pointed malignant shadows after him
Like the defiant fingers of a foe;
But on before him, bordering the plain
Of Jericho, serene and flowery slopes
Knelt down to do him homage. The light wind
That dallied with the fragrant terebinth
Or sung to the green fig-tree and the plane
A careless roundelay, in reverence now
Hushed its gay melody, and, whispering low
Among the listening almond-trees, brought down
An offering of white blossoms to his feet.
The brooks that wandered from the northern hills
Seeking the hallowed Jordan, silently
Floated past barley-fields, or in the shade
Of ancient olives murmured as in prayer;
While, on their fringed borders, hyacinths
Offered sweet incense from their azure urns,
And 'neath the plumy palm-trees galbanum
Sent up its spicy, consecrated breath;
For he who passed was Christ.
With steady tread
He walked toward Bethany, while earnestly
Unto each other His disciples talked
Of the poor widow and her son, of Nain;
And hushed their tones to whispers, as they spake
Of the great blessing He was soon to give
The stricken sisters. On His brow divine
Gathered the beaded sweat of weariness,
Yet He pressed firmly on, nor paused for rest
Within the valley skirting Bethany
Until the triune height of Olivet
Cast a rebuking shadow toward the fierce
And frowning Wilderness, as if to say,
" Get thee behind me, Satan! "
From the gates
Came forth a frantic mourner. Her long hair,
Blacker than Egypt's night-plague, heavy hung
About her shoulders, and a flood of tears,
Bitter and salt as Dead Sea water, scathed
Her olive cheek, whose dark tint darker grew
Beneath the evening shadows and the cloud
Of her o'erwhelming grief. The outstretched hand
Of the Anointed clasping, in a tone
Wild as the wail of Galilee when winds
Dash the black waves on rocky Gadara
And the gray tombs give echo —
" Lord, " she said,
" Hadst thou been here, my brother had not died. "
Turning away then bitterly, her frame
Shook like a tall young cedar lashed by storms.
" I am the Resurrection and the Life. "
Clear as the seraph-tones that spake from heaven
To Hagar in the wilderness, those words
Like a deep organ's modulations fell
Upon the silent air, while the bared heads
Of the disciples bent in reverence low.
Gently and long He spake; and as the dew
Descends on Hermon's blossoms, on her heart
He poured the blessed balm of tenderness,
Till the grieved maiden's lithe and rocking form
Straightened in holy strength. Then looking up
Calm as the lofty Lebanon when storms
Have passed away, and the unclouded sky
Kisses its lifted forehead, she replied,
" Yea, Lord, I do believe; " and with a step
Firm as the patient camel's, bearing on
Its burthen great and wearisome, she turned
To go for Mary.
When the cock crew shrill
In the dim, waning night-watch, and the moon,
Leading the morning, with her silver sword
Parted the clouds and robed the Olive Mount
With light as with a garment, Martha came
With Mary and their kindred. O'er the eyes
Of her meek sister, that had ever worn
The upturned look which makes us think of heaven,
The white lids drooped, as in the dewy night
The pale convolvulus closes. The deep folds
Of her blue mantle o'er her slender feet
Trailed heavily, and her slight fingers pressed
The veil of linen on her marble brow
With a pained, weary movement, as she went
To meet her Lord. She knelt and kissed His feet,
Those sinless feet she erst had bathed with tears;
And casting back her veil, while the bright waves
Rippling and golden of her loosened hair
Swept o'er His dusty sandals, from her lips
Came the low murmur —
" Lord, hadst thou been here
My brother had not died. "
Then silent there,
She waited for His blessing.
Jesus wept —
Wept, though He knew their grief would soon be changed
Into rejoicing at His gracious word;
Wept, though He knew His heavenly hands, ere long,
Within their darkened homestead would again
Establish and relight the inverted torch.
O ye who see along life's sterile paths
The wretched and bereft, ye may not bring
Back to the parched fields of their barren life
Hope's radiant spring-time, nor the holy dews
Of love and trust; but can ye not extend
The one, last solace, kindly sympathy?
" Where have ye laid him? "
" Master, come and see. "
They neared the sepulchre. It was a cave,
And a stone lay upon it. " Take away
The stone, " He said, and lifting high His hands
He prayed aloud. With grave, inquiring looks
In earnest reverence now the faithful ones
Who journeyed with Him gazed into His face.
Like the aurora and the dusky night
Waiting the resurrection of the morn
The sisters watched the open, silent tomb;
And when the sun above the grizzly peaks
Of the dread Wilderness a victor rose,
And, crowning the calm slopes of Olivet,
Made a bright shimmer on the raven hair
Of Martha, and among the golden curls
Of Mary like a trembling halo lay,
Jesus cried:
" Lazarus, come forth! "
His voice
Like the quick influence of the opening spring
Unlocked the life-streams death had frozen quite;
And as the sunrise looked into the grave,
He that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot.
" Loose him and let him go, " the Master said.
From hands and feet they draw the linen bands,
The white sudarium from the brow and chin.
" What hast thou seen, O Lazarus? " we ask
In this mad age the child of prying Doubt,
The mother of Despair — " what hast thou seen? "
Not so those gentle Sisters in their joy;
Not so the chosen Twelve; they question not:
They are content to see the dead alive.
And he, the newly risen, in silence stands,
His forehead pallid from the awful shade,
His eyes aglow from the eternal light —
Content to wait till Christ, who oped the tomb,
Shall ope the sealed lips, and bid the tongue
Rehearse the strange, unutterable song.
Yet still we clamor: " Tell! What hast thou seen? "
Lord God forgive us, beggars that we are;
Flaunting the smart scholastic cap and gown,
Unconscious that we wear a leper's rags;
Refusing to accept but what we know,
When we know nothing; gathering up the chaff
And casting to the winds the precious grain
Garnered from age to age to feed the soul.
Give us if but the smallest crumb that falls
From Thy full table, rather than these husks.
Teach us anew the alphabet of Faith!
Of rifted marble as a pilgrim pale,
Journeying from Bethabara, the rough
And gloomy gorges traversed with a band
Of earnest followers. Behind them frowned
The baffled wilderness where vultures preyed
And hungry tigers crouched. The angered peaks
Pointed malignant shadows after him
Like the defiant fingers of a foe;
But on before him, bordering the plain
Of Jericho, serene and flowery slopes
Knelt down to do him homage. The light wind
That dallied with the fragrant terebinth
Or sung to the green fig-tree and the plane
A careless roundelay, in reverence now
Hushed its gay melody, and, whispering low
Among the listening almond-trees, brought down
An offering of white blossoms to his feet.
The brooks that wandered from the northern hills
Seeking the hallowed Jordan, silently
Floated past barley-fields, or in the shade
Of ancient olives murmured as in prayer;
While, on their fringed borders, hyacinths
Offered sweet incense from their azure urns,
And 'neath the plumy palm-trees galbanum
Sent up its spicy, consecrated breath;
For he who passed was Christ.
With steady tread
He walked toward Bethany, while earnestly
Unto each other His disciples talked
Of the poor widow and her son, of Nain;
And hushed their tones to whispers, as they spake
Of the great blessing He was soon to give
The stricken sisters. On His brow divine
Gathered the beaded sweat of weariness,
Yet He pressed firmly on, nor paused for rest
Within the valley skirting Bethany
Until the triune height of Olivet
Cast a rebuking shadow toward the fierce
And frowning Wilderness, as if to say,
" Get thee behind me, Satan! "
From the gates
Came forth a frantic mourner. Her long hair,
Blacker than Egypt's night-plague, heavy hung
About her shoulders, and a flood of tears,
Bitter and salt as Dead Sea water, scathed
Her olive cheek, whose dark tint darker grew
Beneath the evening shadows and the cloud
Of her o'erwhelming grief. The outstretched hand
Of the Anointed clasping, in a tone
Wild as the wail of Galilee when winds
Dash the black waves on rocky Gadara
And the gray tombs give echo —
" Lord, " she said,
" Hadst thou been here, my brother had not died. "
Turning away then bitterly, her frame
Shook like a tall young cedar lashed by storms.
" I am the Resurrection and the Life. "
Clear as the seraph-tones that spake from heaven
To Hagar in the wilderness, those words
Like a deep organ's modulations fell
Upon the silent air, while the bared heads
Of the disciples bent in reverence low.
Gently and long He spake; and as the dew
Descends on Hermon's blossoms, on her heart
He poured the blessed balm of tenderness,
Till the grieved maiden's lithe and rocking form
Straightened in holy strength. Then looking up
Calm as the lofty Lebanon when storms
Have passed away, and the unclouded sky
Kisses its lifted forehead, she replied,
" Yea, Lord, I do believe; " and with a step
Firm as the patient camel's, bearing on
Its burthen great and wearisome, she turned
To go for Mary.
When the cock crew shrill
In the dim, waning night-watch, and the moon,
Leading the morning, with her silver sword
Parted the clouds and robed the Olive Mount
With light as with a garment, Martha came
With Mary and their kindred. O'er the eyes
Of her meek sister, that had ever worn
The upturned look which makes us think of heaven,
The white lids drooped, as in the dewy night
The pale convolvulus closes. The deep folds
Of her blue mantle o'er her slender feet
Trailed heavily, and her slight fingers pressed
The veil of linen on her marble brow
With a pained, weary movement, as she went
To meet her Lord. She knelt and kissed His feet,
Those sinless feet she erst had bathed with tears;
And casting back her veil, while the bright waves
Rippling and golden of her loosened hair
Swept o'er His dusty sandals, from her lips
Came the low murmur —
" Lord, hadst thou been here
My brother had not died. "
Then silent there,
She waited for His blessing.
Jesus wept —
Wept, though He knew their grief would soon be changed
Into rejoicing at His gracious word;
Wept, though He knew His heavenly hands, ere long,
Within their darkened homestead would again
Establish and relight the inverted torch.
O ye who see along life's sterile paths
The wretched and bereft, ye may not bring
Back to the parched fields of their barren life
Hope's radiant spring-time, nor the holy dews
Of love and trust; but can ye not extend
The one, last solace, kindly sympathy?
" Where have ye laid him? "
" Master, come and see. "
They neared the sepulchre. It was a cave,
And a stone lay upon it. " Take away
The stone, " He said, and lifting high His hands
He prayed aloud. With grave, inquiring looks
In earnest reverence now the faithful ones
Who journeyed with Him gazed into His face.
Like the aurora and the dusky night
Waiting the resurrection of the morn
The sisters watched the open, silent tomb;
And when the sun above the grizzly peaks
Of the dread Wilderness a victor rose,
And, crowning the calm slopes of Olivet,
Made a bright shimmer on the raven hair
Of Martha, and among the golden curls
Of Mary like a trembling halo lay,
Jesus cried:
" Lazarus, come forth! "
His voice
Like the quick influence of the opening spring
Unlocked the life-streams death had frozen quite;
And as the sunrise looked into the grave,
He that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot.
" Loose him and let him go, " the Master said.
From hands and feet they draw the linen bands,
The white sudarium from the brow and chin.
" What hast thou seen, O Lazarus? " we ask
In this mad age the child of prying Doubt,
The mother of Despair — " what hast thou seen? "
Not so those gentle Sisters in their joy;
Not so the chosen Twelve; they question not:
They are content to see the dead alive.
And he, the newly risen, in silence stands,
His forehead pallid from the awful shade,
His eyes aglow from the eternal light —
Content to wait till Christ, who oped the tomb,
Shall ope the sealed lips, and bid the tongue
Rehearse the strange, unutterable song.
Yet still we clamor: " Tell! What hast thou seen? "
Lord God forgive us, beggars that we are;
Flaunting the smart scholastic cap and gown,
Unconscious that we wear a leper's rags;
Refusing to accept but what we know,
When we know nothing; gathering up the chaff
And casting to the winds the precious grain
Garnered from age to age to feed the soul.
Give us if but the smallest crumb that falls
From Thy full table, rather than these husks.
Teach us anew the alphabet of Faith!
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