When Lazarus left his charnel-cave, And home to Mary's house return'd, Was this demanded-if he yearn'd To hear her weeping by his grave?
Where wert thou, Brother, those four days? There lives no record of reply, Which telling what it is to die Had surely added praise to praise.
From every house the neighbours met, The streets were fill'd with joyful sound, A solemn gladness even crown'd The purple brows of Olivet.
Behold a man raised up by Christ! The rest remaineth unreveal'd; He told it not; or something seal'd The lips of that Evangelist.
Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits But he was dead, and there he sits, And He that brought him back is there.
Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the Life indeed.
All subtle thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete, She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears. Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers, Whose loves in higher love endure ; What souls possess themselves so pure, Or is this blessedness like theirs?
THE WEDDING FEAST
Courage, O faithful heart; Steadfast for ever!
In the eternal love
Faltering never:
Courage, O downcast eyes, Bitter tears shedding; Hark! how the chimes ring out Joy for the wedding!
Open the golden doors; Through the high portal Let the rich glory stream Sea-like, immortal! Open the golden doors
Wide from the centre ;
Countless the multitude
Hither must enter !
Light up the palace halls, From roof-tree to basement, Bid the warm festal glow, Flood every casement: Chant ye the bridal song Solemn and holy, Waking to Paradise Souls that lie lowly.
Out of old battle-fields No man remembers; Out of still village yards
And dank charnel-chambers, From the chill ocean-graves
Under far waters And the dear sepulchres
Where sleep the martyrs.
Dives and Lazarus
One with the other; Peasant and emperor, Foeman and brother, Men with long century-lives Braving death's shadow, And sweet baby blossoms-fresh As flower in the meadow :-
Out of the million haunts
Where dead men lie idle, Out of life's thousand ways:- Call to the bridal: Open the golden doors
Wide from the centre! For they that are ready To glory shall enter!
Into a desolate land
White with the drifted snow,
Into a weary land
Our truant footsteps go: Yet doth Thy care, O Father, Ever Thy wanderers keep; Still doth Thy love, O Shepherd, Follow Thy sheep.
Over the pathless wild
Do I not see Him come? Him who shall bear me back,
Him who shall lead me home? Listen! between the storm-gusts Unto the straining ear,
Comes not the cheering whisper"Jesus is near."
Over me He is bending!
Now I can safely rest,
Found at the last, and clinging Close to the Shepherd's breast: So let me lie till the fold-bells Sound on the homeward track, And the rejoicing angels
Welcome us back!
THE TREASURE
Far away, where the tempests play, Over the lonely seas,
Sail or still, with a steady will, Onward before the breeze!
Onward yet, till our hearts forget The loves that we leave behind, Till the memories dear, that thrill in our ear, Flow past like the whistling wind!
Let them come, sweet thoughts of home, And voices we loved of old ;- What care we, that sail the sea, Bound for a Land of Gold?
Gems there are which are lovelier far Than the flash of a maiden's eyes;
Jewels bright, as the magic light That purples the evening skies.
Crowns that gleam like a fairy dream Treasures of price untold;
And we are bound for that charmèd ground, We sail for the Land of Gold!
THE FOOLISH VIRGINS
Late, late, so late! and dark the night, and chill!
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still.
Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now.
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