the same;
Kinsman, Friend, and Elder Brother,
Is His everlasting name.

Saviour, who can love like Thee,
_Gracious_ One of Bethany!

"When the pangs of trial seize us,
When the waves of sorrow roll,
I will lay my head on Jesus,
Pillow of the troubled soul.

Surely none can feel like Thee,
_Weeping_ One of Bethany!

"Jesus wept! And still in glory,
He can mark each mourner's tear;
Loving to retrace the story
Of the hearts he solaced here.

Lord! when I am call'd to die,
Let me think of Bethany!

"Jesus wept! That tear of sorrow
Is a legacy of love;
Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow,
He the same doth ever prove.

Thou art all in all to me,
_Living_ One of Bethany!"

(2.) JESUS WEPT _when He thought of the triumphs of Death_!

He was treading a burial ground--mouldering heaps were around
Him--silent sepulchral caves, giving forth no echo of life!

It is a solemn and impressive thing, even for _us_, to tread the
graveyard; more especially if there are there nameless treasures of
buried affection. The thought that those whose smile gladdened to us
every step in the wilderness, who formed our solace in sorrow, and our
joy in adversity--whose words, and society, and converse were
intertwined with our very being--it is solemn and saddening, as we tread
that land of oblivion, to find these words and looks and tears
unanswered--a gloomy silence hovering over the spot where the wrecks of
worth and loveliness are laid! He would have a bold, a stern heart
indeed who could pace unmoved over such hallowed ground, and forbid a
tear to flow over the gushing memories of the past!

What, then, must it have been at that moment in Bethany with _Jesus_,
when he saw one of those purchased by his own blood (dearest to him)
chased by the unsparing destroyer to that gloomy prison-house?

If we have supposed that the tears of Martha and Mary were suggestive
of manifold other broken and sorrowing hearts in other ages, we may well
believe that graveyard was suggestive of triumphs still in reserve for
the tomb, numberless trophies which in every age were to be reaped in by
the King of Terrors until the reaper's arm was paralyzed, and death
swallowed up in victory. The few silent sepulchres around must have
significantly called to the mind of the Divine spectator how sin had
blasted and scathed