stant reliance on thy mercies? why are we not more joyed in this, than dejected with the other, since the least grain of the increase of grace is more worth than can be equalled with whole pounds of bodily vexation?

O strange consequence! "Lazarus is dead;" nevertheless, "let us go unto him." Must they not needs think, what should we do with a dead man? what should separate, if death cannot? Even those, whom we loved dearliest, we avoid once dead; now we lay them aside under the board, and thence send them out of our houses to their grave. Neither hath death more horror in it than noisomeness; and if we could entreat our eyes to endure the horrid aspect of death, in the face we loved, yet can we persuade our scent to like that smell that arises up from their corruption? "O love stronger than death!” behold here, a friend whom the very grave cannot sever.

Even those that write the longest and most passionate dates of their amity, subscribe but, "Your friend till death;" and if the ordinary strain of human friendship will stretch out a little further, it is but to the brim of the grave; thither a friend may follow us, and see us bestowed in this house of our age, but there he leaves us to our worms and dust. But for thee, O Saviour, the grave-stone, the earth, the coffin, are no bounders of thy dear respects; even after death, and burial, and corruption, thou art graciously affected to those thou lovest. Besides the soul (whereof thou sayest not, let us go to it, but, let it come to us), there is still a gracious regard to that dust, which was, and shall be a part of an undoubted member of that mystical body whereof thou art the head. Heaven and earth yield no such friend but thyself. O make me ever ambitious of this love of thine, and ever unquiet, till I feel myself possessed of thee!

In the mouth of a mere man, this word had been incongruous: "Lazarus is dead, yet let us go to him;" in thine, O Almighty Saviour, it was not more loving than seasonable, since I may justly say of thee, thou hast more to do with the dead than the living; for both they are infinitely more, and have more inward communion with thee, and thou with them: death cannot hinder either our passage to thee, or thy return to us. I joy to think the time is coming, when thou shalt come to every of our graves, and call us up out of our dust, and we "shall hear thy voice, and live."

CONTEMPLATION XXIV. — LAZARUS RAISED,

GREAT was the opinion that these devout sisters had of the power of Christ, as if death durst not show his face to him: they suppose his presence had prevented ther brother's dissolution; and now the news of his approach begins to quicken some late hopes in them. Martha was ever the more active; she, that was before so busily stirring in her house to entertain Jesus, was now as nimble to go forth of her house to meet him; she, in whose face joy had wont to smile upon so blessed a guest, now sa lutes him with the sighs, and tears, and blubbers, and wrings of a disconsolate mourner. I know not whether the speeches of her greeting had in them more sorrow or religion. She had been well catechized before: even she also had sat at Jesus' feet; and can now give good account of her faith, in the power and Godhead of Christ, in the certainty of a future resurrection. This conference hath yet taught her more, and raised her heart to an expectation of some wonderful effect. And now she stands not still, but hastes back into the village to her sister, carried thither by the two wings of her own hopes and her Saviour's commands. The time was, when she would have called off her sister from the feet of that divine Master, to attend the household occasions; now she runs to fetch her out of the house to the feet of Christ.

Doubtless, Martha was much affected with the presence of Christ; and as she was overjoyed with it herself, so she knew how equally welcome it would be to her sister; yet she doth not ring it out aloud in the open hall, but secretly whispers these pleasing tidings in her sister's ear: "The Master is come, and calleth for thee." Whether out of modesty or discretion, it is not fit for a woman to be loud and clamorous: nothing beseems that sex better than silence and bashfulness; as not to be too much seen, so not to be heard too far. Neither did mo desty more charm her tongue than discre tion, whether in respect to the guests, or to Christ himself. Had those guests heard of Christ's being there, they had, either out of fear or prejudice, withdrawn themselves from him; neither durst they have been witnesses of that wonderful miracle, as being overawed with that Jewish edict which was out against him; or perhaps they had withheld the sisters from going to him, against whom they knew how highly their gover nors were incensed. Neither was she ignorant of the danger of his own person, so

'ately before assaulted violently by his enemies at Jerusalem. She knew they were within the smoke of that bloody city, the nest of his enemies; she holds it not therefore fit to make open proclamation of Christ's presence, but rounds her sister secretly in the ear. Christianity doth not bid us abate anything of our waryness and honest policies; yea, it requires us to have no less of the serpent than of the dove.

There is a time when we must preach Christ on the house-top: there is a time when we must speak him in the ear, and, as it were, with our lips shut. Secrecy hath no less use than divulgation. She said enough: "The Master is come, and calleth for thee." What a happy word was this which was here spoken! what a high favour is this that is done, that the Lord of life should personally come and call for Mary! Yet such as is not appropriated to her: thou comest to us still, O Saviour, if not in thy bodily presence, yet in thy spiritual; thou callest us still, if not in thy personal voice, yet in thine ordinances. It is our fault, if we do not, as this good woman, arise quickly, and come to thee. Her friends were there about her, who came purposely to condole with her; her heart was full of heaviness; yet so soon as she hears mention of Christ, she forgets friends, brother, grief, cares, thoughts, and hastes to his

presence.

Still was Jesus standing in the place where Martha left him. Whether it be noted to express Mary's speed, or his own wise and gracious resolutions, his presence in the village had perhaps invited danger, and set off the intended witnesses of the work; or it may be, to set forth his zealous desire to despatch the errand he came for; that as Abraham's faithful servant would not receive any courtesy from the house of Bethuel, till he had done his master's business concerning Rebecca; so thou, O Saviour, wouldst not so much as enter into the house of these two sisters in Bethany, till thou hadst effected this glorious work which occasioned thee thither. It was thy meat and drink to do the will of thy Father;" thy best entertainment was within thyself. How do we follow thee, if we suffer either pleasures or profits to take the wall of thy services?

So good women were well worthy of kind friends. No doubt Bethany, being not two miles distant from Jerusalem, could not but be furnished with good acquaintance from the city: these knowing the dearness, and hearing of the death of Lazarus, came over to comfort the sad sisters. Charity, together

with the common practice of that nation, calls them to this duty. All our distresses expect these good offices from those that love us; but, of all others, death, as that which is the extremest of evils, and makes the most fearful havoc in families, cities, kingdoms, worlds. The complaint was grievous: "I looked for some to comfort me, but there was none." It is some kind of ease to sorrow to have partners, as a burden is lightened by many shoulders, or as clouds, scattered into many drops, easily vent their moisture into air. Yea, the very presence of friends abates grief. The peril that arises to the heart from passion is the fixedness of it, when, like a corrosive plaster, it eats into the sore. Some kind of remedy it is, that it may breathe out in good society.

These friendly neighbours, seeing Mary hasten forth, make haste to follow her. Martha went forth before; I saw none go after her: Mary stirs; they are at her heels. Was it that Martha, being the elder sister, and the housewife of the family, might stir about with less observation? or was it that Mary was the more passionate, and needed the more heedy attendance? However, their care and intentiveness is truly commendable; they came to comfort her, they do what they came for. It contents them not to sit still and chat within doors, but they wait on her at all turns. Perturbations of mind are diseases: good keepers do not only tend the patient in bed, but when he sits up, when he tries to walk; all his motions have their careful assistance. We are no true friends if our endeavours of the redress of distempers in them we love be not assiduous and unwearyable.

It was but a loving suspicion: "She is gone to the grave to weep there." They well knew how apt passionate minds are to take all occasions to renew their sorrow: every object affects them. When she saw but the chamber of her dead brother, straight she thinks, there Lazarus was wont to lie, and then she wept afresh; when the table, there Lazarus was wont to sit, and then new tears arise; when the garden, there Lazarus had wont to walk, and now again she weeps. How much more do these friends suppose the passions would be stirred with the sight of the grave, when she must needs think, There is Lazarus! O Saviour, if the place of the very dead corpse of our friend have power to draw our hearts thither, and to affect us more deeply, how should our hearts be drawn to and affected with heaven, where thou sittest at the right hand of thy Father? there, O thou, "which

this they must do: to raise the dead was out of their power; this therefore thou wilt do alone. Our hands must do their utmost ere thou wilt put to thine.

O Saviour, we are all dead and buried in the grave of our sinful nature: the stone of obstination must be taken away from our hearts, ere we can hear thy reviving voice. We can no more remove this stone, than dead Lazarus could remove his; we can add more weight to our graves. O let thy faithful agents, by the power of thy law, and the grace of thy gospel, take off the stone, that thy voice may enter into the grave of miserable corruption.

Was it a modest kind of mannerliness in Martha, that she would not have Christ annoyed with the ill scent of that stale carcass? or was it out of distrust of reparation, since her brother had passed all the degrees of corruption, that she says, Lord, by this time he stinketh, for he hath been dead four days?" He that understood hearts, found somewhat amiss in that intimation; his answer had not endeavoured to rectify that which was utterly faultless. I fear, the good woman meant to object this as a likely obstacle to any further purposes or proceedings of Christ. Weak faith is still apt to lay blocks of difficulties in the way of the great works of God.

Four days were enough to make any corpse noisome. Death itself is not unsavoury: immediately upon dissolution the body retains the wonted sweetness: it is the continuance under death that is thus offensive. Neither is it otherwise in our spiritual condition: the longer we lie under | our sin, the more rotten and corrupt we are. He who, upon the fresh commission of his sin, recovers himself by a speedy repentance, yields no ill scent to the nostrils of the Almighty. The candle that is presently blown in again, offends not; it is the snuff, which continues choked with its own moisture, that sends up unwholesome and odious fumes. O Saviour, thou wouldst yield to death, thou wouldst not yield to corruption; ere the fourth day, thou wert risen again. I cannot but receive many deadly foils; but O, do thou raise me up again, ere I shall pass the degrees of rottenness in my sins and trespasses!

They that laid their hands to the stone, doubtless held now still awhile, and looked one while on Christ, another while upon Martha, to hear what issue of resolution would follow upon so important an objection; when they find a light touch of taxation to Martha: "Said I not to thee, that if thou wouldst believe, thou shouldst see

the glory of God?" That holy woman had before professed her belief, as Christ had professed his great intentions: both were now forgotten; and now our Saviour is fain to revive both her memory and faith: “Said I not to thee?" The best of all saints are subject to fits of unbelief and oblivion, the only remedy whereof must be the inculcation of God's merciful promises of their relief and supportation. O God, if thou hast said it, I dare believe; I dare cast my soul upon the belief of every word of thine "Faithful art thou which hast promised, who wilt also do it."

In spite of all the unjust discouragements of nature, we must obey Christ's command. Whatever Martha suggests, they remove the stone, and may now see and smell him dead, whom they shall soon see revived. The scent of the corpse is not so unpleasing to them as the perfume of their obedience is sweet to Christ. And now, when all impediments are removed, and all hearts ready for the work, our Saviour addresses to the miracle.

His eyes begin; they are lift up to heaven. It was the malicious mis-suggestion of his enemies, that he looked down to Beelzebub; the beholders shall now see whence he expects and derives his power, and shall by him learn whence to expect and hope for all success. The heart and the eye must go together; he that would have aught to do with God, must be sequestered and lifted up from earth.

His tongue seconds his eye: "Father." Nothing more stuck in the stomach of the Jews, than that Christ called himself the Son of God; this was imputed to him for a blasphemy, worthy of stones. How seasonably is this word spoken in the hearing of these Jews, in whose sight he will be presently approved so! How can ye now, O ye cavillers, except at that title which ye shall see irrefragably justified? Well may he call God Father, that can raise the dead out of the grave. In vain shall ye snarl at the style, when ye are convinced of the effect.

I hear of no prayer, but a thanks for hearing. While thou saidst nothing, O Saviour, how doth thy Father hear thee? Was it not with thy Father and thee, as it was with thee and Moses? Thou saidst, "Let me alone, Moses," when he spake not. Thy will was thy prayer. Words express our hearts to men, thoughts to God. Well didst thou know, out of the self-sameness of thy will with thy Father's, that if thou didst but think in thine heart that Lazarus should rise, he was now raised. It