her head to the ground, in words of deepest humility and a voice weak with agony, she murmured: "Oh, my Lord, my Lord, they have slain Thee! Jesus, Thou Saviour, in pity Thou hast visited me!" and faint with gratitude and adoration, and torn with anguish, she almost swooned away.
Then a voice she knew, but which was not that of the Christ (whose voice was like to none on earth), called out again: "Mary, Mary Magdalene, bow not thyself before me, for I am the least of all men. Rise up and listen. I am not the Christ, but Lazarus.
Kneeling still, and struggling with emotion, the Magdalene raised her beautiful face, half dazed still from the agony she had undergone; and some of the glory that shone around her touched her lips and hair; and, while she looked, the shadows seemed to grow more and more distinct; till, finally, the form and features of Lazarus seemed to stand in very life before her, but with a strange spiritual light upon them, such as she had seen occasionally on the face of the Nazarene.
"Thou, Lazarus?" she murmured inquiringly in awe-struck tones. "Thou here? But I saw thee die, and, even now, I was hastening to Mary to warn her that Caiaphas and Nicodemus are on their way to Bethany; and they will have gained upon me on the highroad."
"Fear not," replied Lazarus. "I have come to tell thee that our Lord is not yet come to Bethany, nor will He be for three days more. Thou hast naught to fear, even if Caiaphas and Nicodemus go to Martha's house. They will find only Mary, for Martha
