University of Virginia Library

'T was at the grave of Lazarus,
The two fond sisters, in their sackcloth robes,
Drenched in affliction, and the godless Jews,
In that one scene made lovely, as they went
To weep with Mary at the sepulchre,
Stood there, a grieving circle. She came forth,
Obedient, e'en in sorrow, to the call
Of Him who called for her. There was no voice
Among the whited stones that pointed out
The home of dead men, and no scenery,
Or sweet, or gorgeous, in the hills or vales
Of loveliest form and hue that spread around them,
To call forth a moment's admiration;
There was one absorbing sense of sorrow,
That burned at the heart's core. The glorious voice
Of Him who raised, triumphant, the dead brother
Had not broke out in holy thanksgiving;
But there they stood, consumed by their deep grief,
And there—there, Jesus wept.
The evening sun slanted among the hills
Where Zion's temple shone. Down the descent
Of Olivet a joyous crowd advanced,
Singing hosannas unto Him that came,—
The Son of David, and yet David's Lord,
The prophet of their nation; not as when
Each heart beat sadly, and the silent tears
Stole down the cheeks of all the sorrowing band
At the dead brother's tomb. Now all was gay
And bright. But unto a devoted place,
Cursed as the dwelling of the crucifiers,
The crucifiers of the Lord of life
And glory, they were drawing near. The crowd,
Rejoicing in their city, and the sheen
Of their own glorious temple, pressed their way,
Thoughtless of coming evil. But, behold!
Amid the happy throng one stretched His gaze
Into eternity, soon to receive
The uncomforted inhabitants, whose towers
Were ready to their fall,—the inhabitants
Who knew not when their visitation came;
One gazed in silent sadness as He thought
Upon their coming fate, and Jesus wept.

Wept twice on earth,—once at the tomb of him
Whose sorrowing sisters He had loved; and once,
When He foresaw Jerusalem's dread fate.