Lord—at a mountain tomb in Bethany

Once Thou didst stand, and with the word ‘Come forth’

Raised Lazarus to the quick. And stumbling he Pathetically raised protecting hands Because the sun was strong. They loosed the bands That bound his buried limbs. Before their eyes In wonder, jealousy, or fear that gazed Young Lazarus stood, and heard their startled cries, And saw his Lord smile welcome, and with dazed Senses he wondered what new dream was this;

Then the world faded as he knelt to kiss Thy feet . . .

Lord—see this sepulchre that keeps my soul And call forth the dead self that tarries there,

Send angel hands, that they in pity roll The stone away, and at Thy word let rise This buried self, that with new life and care May learn to kiss Thy feet, and meet Thine eyes.

Rupert Croft-Cooke.