all its tender memories, and thus preserve his life, would be to Lazarus a greater sacrifice than to lay it down.
With the first cold rays of the rising sun that stole into the room in which the three were seated with some of the disciples, their thoughts turned to the sepulchre, and they fell to reflecting how the sweet face looked after its first night of repose. With eager restlessness, Martha set about putting together the spices and essences she had prepared to take to the sepulchre that morning.
A hurried step was heard without the door, and the Magdalene, tired and flushed, but with exultation in her eyes, rushed in.
"The Lord is risen!" she cried. "The Lord is risen! Who then dare deny that He is God?"
Then, while the others pressed round to listen to her tale, Lazarus called to Peter and John, and said: "Let us hasten to the sepulchre, for I fear some artifice of the Romans. Therefore did they set a seal, to rob the Lord of a King's burial."
And so, still doubting,—as even the redeemed will doubt to the end of time, sitting in darkness and straining through the glass that they themselves have dimmed by superstition, by infidelity, by self-raised complications,—they hurried down the hill. Yes, Lazarus, who himself had risen, could barely accept the rising of the Lord.
The Magdalene called after them in vain. "Nay, if they had but stayed to hear my tale, they had not need to fear or hurry so," she said.
Then, when Mary and Martha and their household questioned her, she told them of her dismay
