to make any lasting impression on the mind of man, his curiosity must be excited, the spirit of enquiry must be roused, the attention must be fixed, he must, in short, be made to think.1

There are indeed few of us who have not experienced the efficacy of this process, and who have not found that of many a book which we have read, the only portion we have retained, has been some passage in which, the meaning not lying on the surface, we could not read merely with the eye, but were compelled to use our understanding to work it out. So partial was our Lord to this mode of communication, that we even find Him taking as it were a circuitous method to inform his disciples of the death of Lazarus for it was on this melancholy occasion that the two sisters are again brought under our consideration. He first observes, "this sickness is not unto death;" He then tells them, "our friend Lazarus sleepeth;" their interest and sympathy are excited, their hopes are kept alive, and they answer, "Lord, if he sleep, he will do well" He then tells them plainly, "Lazarus is dead." He has thus detained their minds on the subject long enough to make a deep 1 Penser enfin ; c'est là que commence la vie.-GRESSET.

impression, and enlist the exercise of their tenderest sympathies: for we find one of them exclaiming in the overwrought language of sudden and overwhelming affliction, "Let us go that we may die with him ;" our Lord then adds that deeply pathetic declaration, “and I am glad, for your sakes, that I was not there, to the intent that ye may believe."

How much does this one sentence convey to the mind that attentively considers it; for while it shews us that our Lord's chief concern was the eternal good of his creatures, it likewise most beautifully pourtrays the tenderest compassion for their earthly trials and afflictions. His rejoicing that He was absent at this sad moment, because that absence would prove the occasion of so glorious a manifestation of the power of God, in the presence of his disciples, evidently implies that Martha judged rightly when she exclaimed, “Lord, hadst thou been here, my brother had not died." And how touching is it to reflect, that He who, in his own person, could look forward with unshaken fortitude to draining to the very dregs that bitter cup of expiation which his own hand had voluntarily prepared,-that He who, in his own person, could look forward,

with unflinching resolution to the endurance of those "unknown pangs," at which human conjecture stands aghast, could not, in his exquisite sympathy for the sorrows of humanity, have witnessed the dying agonies of the friend He so tenderly loved, and the keen distress of those around Him, without yielding at once to the prayer of faith, and making an instantaneous exertion of his power to ward off the fatal stroke.

The sacred historian proceeds to inform us, that He remained two whole days in the place where He was, until the time arrived that He might witness affliction only to relieve it. We then find that He proposes to his disciples that they should accompany Him to the village of the bereaved family. Before He had reached their dwelling, Martha was the first to meet Him: we can easily imagine that even affliction would not keep her quiet, and that her grief must be a stirring grief; we can picture to ourselves the vehement exclamations, the rapid succession of sighs, groans, and tears, in which it would partly dissipate itself. She falls at the feet of our Redeemer, exclaiming, "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died;" and as it is her nature to

overdo every thing, she adds, (as we shall hereafter see, unthinkingly,) "but I know that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee;" Jesus saith unto her, " thy brother shall rise again:" mark how quickly Martha begins to retract her former unqualified declaration, “I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day." "Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live, and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?" The question is direct, but her answer is an indirect one; she is asked if she believes that whosoever liveth and believeth in Him should never die, and that though he were dead, yet he should live; and she answers, "I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world." She, then, fearful (it would seem) of being questioned any further, went her way.

But where is Mary? The Evangelist has already told us, she "sat still in the house:" how admirably does that one word bring her before us, and how beautifully does the following exquisite description, though not intended

for the sister of Lazarus, embody our ideal of her, whose all-absorbing grief could give no words to sorrow.

"Her body was subdued; in every act

Pertaining to her house affairs appeared
The careless stillness of a thinking mind,
Self-occupied, to whom all outward things
Are like an idle matter. Still she sighed;
But yet no motion in her breast was seen,
No heaving of the heart."

She had not even heard of the approach of her Redeemer, for Martha went, we are told, to apprize her of it, saying, "the Master is come, and calleth for thee." As soon as Mary heard that, (from which we may gather what, indeed, was most probable, that Martha had before made several ineffectual attempts to draw away her sister from her seclusion,) she arose quickly, and came unto Him.

How well the Jews, who, as was the custom of the country, had come to condole with her, knew her disposition! "When they saw Mary that she rose up hastily and went out, they followed her, saying, she goeth unto the grave to weep there." When Mary was come to the spot where Jesus was, she fell at his feet, and made use in part of exactly the same