“Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister Mary, and Lazarus. When He had heard therefore that he was sick, He still remained in the same place two days.”[109] Why, Lord, why--with Your heart so tender and Your arm so strong, and danger near, and time short, and those You love so fearful and so sad? Why did you still remain, O Lord? Truly Your thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor Your ways as ours. Our love stands sentry round its dear ones, to ward off pain or sorrow: “Far be it from Thee, Lord, this shall not be unto Thee”.[110] Your love, seeking rather to sanctify than to spare, assigns to sorrow a definite work in behalf of Your beloved. “Whom the Lord loveth, He chastiseth, and He scourgeth every son whom He receiveth.”[111] “Now Jesus loved Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus. When He had heard therefore that he was sick, He still remained in the same place two days.” “Our Lord Himself was perfected by His passion.”[112] And in that passion it was not the nails which tore the flesh, but the anguish which rent the spirit, that drew forth His bitter cry. It was the passion of His Heart that was the hardest. It is by the crucifixion of the heart that Christ is perfected in us. Therefore He stays away and leaves us to suffering harder far to bear than physical pain. We cry out. We send our messages to Him. And He does not come. “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me!” He hears and does not come. The echo of His own cry of desolation moves His Heart. And still He does not come. It is because Jesus loves that He does violence to His heart and lets the cross do for His friends what it alone can do. This is His way of showing love. He expects us to understand it. In the cross, as in the sacred mystery of the altar, His love puts on strange disguises. But puts them on so regularly, so frankly, that losing by this time their power of disguise, they ought to reveal instead of hiding Him. We must be patient and wait. The time of His coming, with its ways and means, we can leave to His wisdom and His love. Our work is to send urgently and perseveringly the message whose trust vanquished His Heart at last and made Him say, “_Let us go to him_”. * * * * * “_Lord, behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick._” Before a thousand tabernacles that cry is rising. No prayer, but pleading more potent than any prayer. Its perseverance is its power. Can it but hold out, ignore neglect, support delay, it is sure to hear in God’s own time: “Thy brother shall rise again.... Lazarus, come forth.”