still, afflicted ones! He is coming.
He will, however, let the cup of anguish be first filled to the brim
that He may manifest and magnify all the more the might of His
omnipotence, and the marvels of His compassion. The thirsty land is
about to become streams of water. The sky is at its darkest, when, lo!
the rainbow of love is seen spanning the firmament, and a shower of
blessings is about to fall on the "_Home of Bethany_!"

VII.

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS.

The sounds of lamentation had now been heard for four days in the
desolate household.

In accordance with general wont, the friends and relatives of the
deceased had assembled to pay their tribute of respect to the memory of
a revered friend, and to solace the hearts of the disconsolate
survivors. They needed all the sympathy they received. It was now the
dull dead calm after the torture of the storm, the leaden sea strewn
with wrecks, enabling them to realise more fully the extent of their
loss. Amid the lulls of the tempest, while Lazarus yet lived, hope
shrunk from entertaining gloomy apprehensions. But now that the storm
has spent its fury, now that the worst has come, the future rises up
before them crowded with ten thousand images of desolation and sorrow.
The void in their household is daily more and more felt. All the past
bright memories of Bethany seem to be buried in a yawning grave.

We may picture the scene. The stronger and more resolute spirit of
Martha striving to stem the tide of overmuch sorrow. The more sensitive
heart of Mary, bowed under a grief too deep for utterance, able only to
indicate by her silent tears the unknown depths of her sadness.

Thus are they employed, when Martha, unseen to her sister, has been
beckoned away. "_The Master has come._" But desirous of ascertaining the
truth of the joyful tidings, ere intruding on the grief of Mary, the
elder of the survivors rushes forth with trembling emotion to give full
vent to her sorrow at the feet of the Great Friend of all the
friendless![11]

He has not yet entered the village. She cannot, however, wait His
arrival. Leaving home and sepulchre behind, she hastens outside the
groves of palm at its gate.

It requires no small fortitude in the season of sore bereavement to
face an altered world; and, doubtless, passing all alone now through the
little town, meeting familiar faces wearing sunny smiles which could not
be returned, must have been a painful effort to this child of