The Gospel Miracles :: :: University of Virginia Library

“'Tis mine to men the living soul to give;
The Resurrection and the Life am I.
He that believes in me, tho' dead, shall live;
He, that in me believes, shall never die.”

Oft as along the church-yard path is led
The simple funeral of the village swain,
Or statelier rites consign the titled dead
To the dark mansions of the vaulted fane;

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Taught by the Church, and utter'd by her priest,
These solemn sounds conduct the pomp of woe;
That earthly cares may mark their place of rest,
And grief be warn'd its Comforter to know.

Sad was the scene, where first those accents flow'd;
A scene of sadness, but of comfort too:
Wak'd by the promise, hope reviving glow'd;
And pow'r celestial prov'd the promise true.

Hard by the gate of Bethany, behold,
To meet the Lord, afflicted Martha flies:
Her limbs the tatter'd weeds of grief infold;
Grief bares her head, and gushes from her eyes.

Ask ye her cause of sorrow?—“Lord, to thee,”
She cries, “to heal our Lazarus we sent;
Him, whom thou lovedst! For the wretched flee
To thee for succour, and on thee we leant.

“Thou camest not; and still we watch'd and wept:
Thou camest not; but still our hearts relied,
Till in the silent tomb at length he slept:
Hadst thou been here, my brother had not died!

“Hadst thou been here?—But here thou art, and still
Is there no comfort? Does no hope remain?
What thou intreatest, shall not God fulfil?
Shalt thou for misery plead, and plead in vain?—

“Thou sayst, my brother shall arise. I know,
He at the resurrection shall arise:
That final day shall life on all bestow.”—
The mourner speaks, the Saviour thus replies.

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“ 'Tis mine to man the living soul to give;
The Resurrection and the Life am I.
He, that believes in me, tho' dead, shall live;
He, that in me believes, shall never die.

“Believ'st thou this?”—“Yea, Lord, in thee declar'd,”
She quick resumes, “the Son of God I find:
The Christ, foretold by many an ancient bard;
The promis'd Life and Saviour of mankind.”

Now from the house, where patient Mary still
Absorb'd in grief-ful meditation sate,
Hath Martha, studious of the Master's will,
Call'd her in secret forth. Beyond the gate

She hastes; she sees; she speaks;—one word alone,
“My brother had not died, hadst thou been here!”
Then on the ground, with pleading eyes upthrown,
She clasps his feet, and sheds the silent tear.

With tears her grief a friendly train attend:
(For prompt to Bethany from Salem's tow'rs,
Of Judah's children many a kindly friend
Had come, to soothe the sisters' mourning hours;

And when they saw, how Mary left her home,
They deem'd she rose, for such her wont, to go,
Seek the sad silence of her brother's tomb,
And there indulge the agony of woe.)

Sees He unmov'd? Ah, no! the deep-drawn sigh,
The answering tear, his troubled spirit prove.
“Behold,” surpris'd the sad spectators cry,
“How deep his sorrow, and how great his love!

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“But could not he, who gave the eyeless sight,
Have stopp'd the arrow of impending death?
He, who on darkling eyeballs pour'd the light,
Could not his voice have stay'd the fleeting breath?”—

Pause not to question! Pass observant on!
See where his passage to the tomb he bends!
Lo! he the tomb has reach'd: and hark! a groan,
Another groan, his troubled spirit sends!

Now list his awful voice, which bids remove
The rock-hewn cave's incumbent stone away!
And list his words, which Martha's fears reprove,
Lest the dead corse were now corruption's prey:

“Told I not thee, that thou shouldst still behold,
Couldst thou believe, my Father's glory shewn?”—
And mark, for now away the stone is roll'd,
His heavenward eyes, and hear his filial tone!

“I thank thee, Father; thou my voice hast heard:
My voice, I knew, thou always dost receive:
But now I speak, that they, who mark the word,
May see thy glory, and thy Son believe.”

'Tis silence all: and then a loud command
Cries, “Lazarus, come forth!” and forth he came.
He that was dead came forth, each foot and hand
Swath'd with the grave-clothes, which inwrapt his frame,

And round his face envelop'd. They had gaz'd
Their last, so thought they, on that form belov'd:
But when again they saw him; and amaz'd,
O'erwhelm'd, astounded, saw the thought disprov'd;

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When they again beheld his form, his face;
And heard the mandate, “Loose, and let him go:”
Ev'n lips inspir'd forbear the joy to trace,
And o'er the scene the veil of silence throw.

Fancy might paint, with well-imagin'd skill,
The strange emotions of the dead new-born:
The watchful crowd what various passions fill;
Believing rapture, and obdurate scorn:

With lively tints a sister's feelings tell,
By Martha's loud ecstatick joy exprest:
Or the calm thoughts of heavenly love, that dwell
Deep in the still recess of Mary's breast.

But Faith the while, her eye on Jesus turn'd,
Marks how for him, the sleep of death that slept,
As with a brother's grief his spirit yearn'd;
How well he lov'd him, and how kindly wept!

She marks, to that dejected pair how well
He bore the friendly, the fraternal, part;
Heard with deep groans the tears that plenteous fell,
And spake of comfort to the hopeless heart!

But chief she marks, from Bethany afar,
Or in that place of mourning, how he strove,
By thought, by word, by action, to declare
His Father's glory, and his filial love;

To fix his followers' trust; to raise their hope;
And bid them soar, with elevated eye,
Above this earthly sphere's contracted scope,
To other scenes and mansions in the sky!

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Thus taught, when sickness grieves, or fear appals,
Or from our arms some friend belov'd hath fled,
Or if the Church perchance her children calls
To join the solemn service of the dead;

To thee, O Lord, we look: we hear thee give
Celestial comfort in thy kind reply,
“Believe in me; and thou, tho' dead, shalt live;
Believe in me; and thou shalt never die:”

We hear thee cry unto the dead, “Come forth;”
We see thee set the prison'd captive free;
We hail thee, image of paternal worth,
Irradiate with paternal Majesty:

“Saviour of men,” we pray, “thy ransom'd save!
Judge of the world, accept thy suppliants' vow!
Thou tread'st on death; thou triumph'st o'er the grave:
The Resurrection and the Life art thou!”