their existence long years after. The tide of things had swept onward; new objects of hostility had arisen :-not to say that if there was danger, and if the danger would have been thus augmented, yet Lazarus was now a Christian, and would not have shrunk from that danger, nor would those who truly loved him have desired to save him from the post of honorable peril. For what else would it have been, but to have shrunk from confessing Christ, for him to have desired that a work which revealed so much of the glory of the Lord should remain untold, lest some persecution or danger might from the telling accrue to himself?

Others again, feeling this explanation to be insufficient, have observed how the three earlier Evangelists have confined themselves almost entirely to the miracles that the Lord wrought in Galilee, leaving those wrought in Jerusalem and its neighborhood nearly untouched, and that so they came to omit this.* It is perfectly, true that they did so. But this is not explaining, it is only stating in other words the fact which has to be explained; and the question still remains, Why they I should have done so ? and to this it is difficult to find now the satisfactory answer.

In the house of Martha at Bethany, for St. Luke (x. 38) speaks of her as if alone the mistress of the house, the Lord had often found a hospitable reception; and not in the house only; he had found too a place in the hearts of the united and happy family which abode under that roof; and he loved with a peculiar human affection "Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus." It was to Bethany, after the day's task was over in the hostile city, that probably he was often wont to retire for the night; (Mark xi. 11-19;) its immediate nearness to the city,-it

* Thus NEANDER, Leben Jesu, p. 357.

Here, as throughout the Evangelical history, there is an exceeding scantiness in all the circumstantial notices concerning the persons mentioned; that only being related which was absolutely necessary to make the history intelligible; and all attention being directed to the portraying the spiritual life and what bore upon this. Whether Martha was an early widow, with whom her sister, and Lazarus, a younger brother, resided, or what other may have been the constitution of the household, it is impossible to determine.—I cannot at all consent with Mr. Greswell's ingenious essay, On the village of Martha and Mary, (Dissert., v. 2, p. 545,) of which the aim is to prove that in St. John's designation of Lazarus, ¿ñò Вnoavías means one thing, the present place of his residence, and ἐκ τῆς κώμης Μαρίας καὶ Μάρθας another, the village of his birth, which he accounts to have been some Galilæan village, where the Lord had before been entertained by the sisters, (Luke x. 38,) and from whence they had migrated to Bethany, during the later period of his ministry;-well worthy as the essay is of perusal.

was not more than fifteen furlongs distant, allowing him to return thither betimes in the morning. And in the circle of this family, with Mary, who "sat at his feet and heard his words," with Martha, who was only divided between this and the desire to pay as much outward honor as she could to her divine guest, with Lazarus his friend, we may think of him as often wont to find rest and refreshment, after a day spent amid the contradiction of sinners, and among the men who daily mistook and wrested his words.

But now there has fallen a cloud upon this happy household of love; for not they even whom Christ loves are exempt from their share of earthly trouble and anguish; rather are they bound over to it the more surely. Lazarus is sick; and the sisters in their need turn to him, whom, it may be, they have themselves proved to be a helper in every time of trouble, whom at any rate they have beheld to be such in the extremest needs of others: He is at a distance, beyond Jordan, probably at Bethabara, having withdrawn thither from the fury of his adversaries; (John x. 39, 40; cf. John i. 28;) but the place of his concealment, or retirement rather, is known to the friendly family, and they send a messenger with these tidings, "Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick." Very beautiful is it to observe their confidence in him; they take it for granted that this announcement will be sufficient, and say no more; they do not urge him to come; they only tell their need, as being sure that this will be enough; he does not love, and forsake them whom he loves.* It is but a day's journey from Bethabara to Bethany, so that they securely count that help will not tarry long.

The words with which the Lord receives the message, and which we are to take as spoken, in the hearing indeed of the apostles, yet primarily to the messenger, and for him to bring back to them that sent him, "This sickness is not unto death," are purposely enigmatical, and must have greatly tried the faith of the sisters. For by the time that the messenger returned, it is probable that Lazarus was already dead. Sorely therefore must this confident assurance that the issue of the sickness should not be death, have perplexed them. Could it be that their divine friend had deceived them, or had been himself deceived? Why had he not made the issue certain by himself coming, or, if aught had hindered that, by speaking that word which even at a distance was effectual to heal, that word which he had spoken for others, for those

* Augustine (In Ev. Joh., Tract. 40): Non dixerunt, Veni. Amanti enim tantummodò nuntiandum fuit....Sufficit ut noveris; non enim amas, et deseris.

IIpòs Oúvarov. So 1 John v. 16; cf. 1 Kin. xvii. 17; and 2 Kin. xx. 1 (LXX.), where of Hezekiah it is said, ηῤῥώστησεν εἰς θάνατον.

that were well nigh strangers to him, and they had been saved? But as with so many other of the divine promises, which seem to us for the moment to come to nothing and utterly to fail, and this because we so little dream of the resources of the divine love, and are ever limiting them by our knowledge of them, so was it with this word,-a perplexing riddle, till the event had made it plain. Even now, in the eyes of him who saw the end from the beginning, that sickness was not unto death; as they too should acknowledge that it was not, when they should find that death was not to be its last issue, but only a moment of transition to a restored, and a higher life than any which yet Lazarus had lived; a higher life, for when Christ declares the meaning of that sickness, that it was "for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby," he certainly includes in this "glory of God" the perfecting for Lazarus of his own spiritual being, as we cannot doubt that it was perfected through these wondrous events of his existence. This was his hard yet blessed passage into life. That which was the decisive crisis in his spiritual development was also a signal moment in the gradual revelation of the glory of Christ unto the world. The Son of God was first glorified in Lazarus, and then on him, and through him to the world. (Compare the exact parallel, John ix. 2, 3.)

It has been sometimes proposed to connect ver. 5 with what goes before, so making it to contain an explanation of the message, and of the ready confidence which the sisters show in the Lord's help; or sometimes, as by Olshausen, with the verse following; and then St. John will be bringing out into the strongest contrast the Lord's love to the distressed family at Bethany, and his tarrying notwithstanding for two days where he was, even after the message claiming his help had reached him. The Evangelist will in that case be suggesting to the thoughtful reader all that is involved in this love which waited so long, ere it would step in to save. But I am inclined to think that Maldonatus has caught a truer view of the sequence of thought, when he connects this verse not with the one, but with the two which follow. He understands St. John to say, Jesus loved Martha and the others; when therefore he heard that Lazarus was sick, he abode indeed two days where he was, but "then after that saith he to his disciples, Let us go into Judea again." To conceive any other reason for his tarrying where he was those two days, than that he might have room to work that great miracle, is highly unnatural. Sometimes it has been assumed that he had in hand some great work for the kingdom of God where he was, some work which would not endure to be left, and which therefore he could not quit for the most pressing calls of private friendship. (See x. 41, 42.) But he could have healed with his word at a distance as easily as

by his actual presence; and this tarrying was rather a part of the severe yet faithful discipline of divine love; he would let the need come to the highest before he interfered. We have frequent instances of the like. He comes in with his mighty help, but not till every other help has failed, till even his promise has seemed to the weak faith of men to have failed and come utterly to nothing.

But now, when all things are ready for him, he will return to Judea again. The wondering and trembling disciples remonstrate; it was but now that he escaped instant death at the hands of his Jewish foes; it was the necessity of withdrawing from their active malice which brought him here, and will he now affront that danger anew? In these their remonstrances with their Lord, their entreaties that he should not return to the scene of his former perils, there spake out indeed truest love to him; but with it were mingled apprehensions for their own safety, as is revealed in ver. 16, where Thomas takes it for granted that to return with him is to die with him. We must keep this in mind, if we would understand our Lord's answer to their remonstrance, Are there not twelve hours in the day?" or, rather, "Are not the hours of the day twelve?"-in other words, "Is there not a time which is not cut short or abridged by premature darkness, but consists of twelve full hours,* during any part of which a man may walk and work without stumbling, being enlightened by the light of this world, by the natural sun in the heavens? Such an unconcluded day there is now for me, a day during any part of which I can safely accomplish the work given me by my Father, whose light I, in like manner, behold. So long as the day, the time appointed by my Father for my earthly walk, endures, so long as there is any work for me yet to do, I am safe, and you are safe in my company." The passage which yields the most helps to fix its meaning, is the very similar one spoken under similar circumstances of danger, John ix. 4. And then, at ver. 10, leaving all allusion to himself and contemplating his disciples alone, he links another thought to this, and warns them that they never walk otherwise than as seeing him who is the Light of men,-they never walk as in the night, they undertake no task, they affront no danger, unless looking to him, unless they can say, The Lord is my Light; for so to do were to involve themselves in

* Maldonatus: Certum esse atque statum spatium Dei, quod minui non possit ; duodecim enim constare horis; intra id spatium si quis ambulat, sine periculo ambulare. Calvin: Vocatio Dei instar lucis diurnæ est, quæ nos errare vel impingere non patitur. Quisquis ergo Dei verbo obtemperat, nec quidquam aggreditur nisi ejus jussu, illum quoque habere cœlo ducem et directorem, et hâc fiduciâ securè et intrepidè viam arripere potest. Cf. Ps. xc. 11. Grotius: Quantò ergo magis tutò ambulo, qui prælucentem mihi habeo lucem supracolestem, ac divinam cognitionem Paterni propositi i

sure peril and temptation. The final words which explain why such a walker in the night should stumble, "because there is no light in him," are a forsaking of the figure which would have required something of this kind, "there is no light above him;" but in the spiritual world it is one and the same thing not to see the light above us, and not to have it in us for the having it here is only the reflex and the consequence of seeing it there. (Cf. 1 John ii. 8-11.)

We are not to suppose that the Lord receives new and later tidings from the house of sickness, announcing that it is now the house of death, and by this supposition to explain the new communication which he makes to his disciples. But by the inner power of his Spirit he knows how it has fared with his friend; "Lazarus is dead," or, as Christ first expresses it, speaking in the heavenly tongue, "sleepeth;" "but I go," he adds, "that I may awake him out of sleep." Thus simply does he speak of the mighty work which he is about to accomplish; so does he use concerning it a language which shall rather extenuate than exalt his greatness it is but as a sleep and an awakening. The disciples, however, misunderstood his words, and thought that he spake of natural sleep, an indication often of a favorable crisis in a disorder, and which they assume to be such here; "Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well."* What need then, they would imply, that their beloved Lord should ex pose himself and them to peril, when his presence was not required, when all was going favorably forward without him? Hereupon the Lord explained to them that he spake of another sleep, even the sleep of death, from which he was going to awaken Lazarus. The image of death as a sleep is so common, belongs so to the natural symbolism of all nations, that it was no difficulty in the image itself which occasioned the misunderstanding upon their part; but while it was equally possible for them to take his words in a figurative or in a literal sense, they erroneously took them in the latter. They make an exactly similar mis

* So Chrysostom, and Grotius: Discipuli omnimodò quærunt Dominum ab isto itinere avocare. Ideo omnibus utuntur argumentis.

The use of the term кouãobaι in this sense is abundantly frequent in the Old Testament, and not less in the New, as Matt. xxvii. 52; Acts vii. 60; xiii. 36; 1 Cor. vii. 39; xi. 30; xv. 6, 18, 20, 51; 1 Thess. iv. 13, 14, 15; 2 Pet. iii. 4. So we have Koiμnois for the sleep of death, Sirac. xlvi. 19. There is but one example of a use of ¿žvπvíšev, similar to the present, namely, in the remarkable passage, Job xiv. 12: *Ανθρωπος δὲ κοιμηθεὶς οὐ μὴν ἀναστῇ ἕως ἂν ὁ οὐρανὸς οὐ μὴ συῤῥαφῇ, καὶ οὐκ ἐξυπνισ θήσονται ἐξ ὕπνου αὐτῶν. The nearest motive to this image may probably have been the likeness of a dead body to one sleeping. Yet there may well lie in it a deeper thought, of the state of the dead being that of a sleep-not indeed a dreamless sleep; but the separation of the soul from the body as the appointed and indeed