derately
disguised from His disciples the stern truth of Lazarus' departure. "Our
friend sleepeth." "They thought that He had spoken of taking of rest in
sleep." They understood it as the indication of the crisis-hour in
sickness when the disease has spent itself, and is succeeded by a balmy
slumber--the presage of returning health; but now He says unto them
plainly, "Lazarus is dead." How gently He thus breaks the sad
intelligence! And it is His method of dealing still. He _prepares_ His
people for their hours of trial. He does not lay upon them more than
they are able to bear. He considers their case--He teaches by slow and
gradual discipline, leading on step by step; staying His rough wind in
the day of His east wind. As the Good Physician, He metes out drop by
drop in the bitter cup--as the Good Shepherd, His is not rough driving,
but gentle guiding from pasture to pasture. "He leadeth them out;" "He
goeth before them." He is Himself their sheltering rock in the "dark and
cloudy day." The sheep who are inured to the hardships of the mountain,
He leaves at times to wrestle with the storm; but "the _lambs_" (the
young, the faint, the weak, the weary) "He gathers in His arms and
carries in His bosom." He speaks in gentle whispers. He uses the
pleasing symbol of quiet slumber before He speaks plainly out the
mournful reality, "Lazarus is dead." Truly "He knoweth our frame--He
remembereth that we are dust." "Like as a father pitieth his children,
so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him!"

But let us resume our narrative, and follow the journey of the dead
man's "Friend." It is a mighty task He has undertaken; to storm the
strong enemy in his own citadel, and roll back the barred gates! In
mingled majesty and tenderness He hastens to the bereft and desolate
home on this mission of power and love. We left the sisters wondering at
His mysterious delay. Again and again had they imagined that at last
they heard His tardy step, or listened to His hand on the latch, or to
the loving music of His longed-for voice. But they are mistaken; it was
only the beating of the vine-tendrils on the lattice, or the footfall of
the passer by. The Lord is still absent! Their earnest and importunate
heart-breathings are expressed by the Psalmist--"O Lord our God, early
do we seek Thee: our soul thirsteth for Thee, our flesh longeth for Thee
in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is; to see Thy power and Thy
glory, as we _have_ seen Thee." Be