His face; and, while she listened to His words, that one after another struck her heart with the certain aim of arrows shot from one who had the cunning of the bow at his finger ends, yet her thoughts dwelt anxiously on the future, with a thousand ponderings.
But suddenly Lazarus ceased to speak, for the thrilling voice of the Nazarene arose in words that were addressed to all multitudes and all nations; words that to those who understood them set forth the great news of His impending death.
Surely the poor, wan face, the lips that never laughed, told their own tale of the secret griefs and temptations of the Man of Sorrows; griefs and temptations more gigantic than could be conceived by mortal man, the temptation to use His power to set aside grief and sorrow, to reject death, while yet accepting them.
At last He cried: "And what shall I say? Father, save Me from this hour. But for this cause came I unto this hour."
Then, as if to defy fate and unbelief, temptation, fear, insult, torment, He raised His face, sublime in its gentle gravity, towards heaven, and, with a voice that breathed with faith and love, He cried: "Father, glorify Thy name."
Then, although the day was fine and bright, and no cloud hung across the heavens, was heard a thunder-clap, then another; yet to some it sounded not wholly like a thunder-clap, so that those standing nearest to Jesus said, "An angel spake to Him; I heard the voice. Methought I heard the word glory." And Lazarus and John and several others
