There is a touching legend in the East that the father of Lazarus was a pious Levite, and his mother a Jewish matron, after the model of Hannah and Elizabeth; that Lazarus himself was a scribe, who gained a living by copying the Law and the Prophets for the various synagogues in Palestine, and that Mary and Martha devoted their time to needle-work――embroidering veils for the Temple and garments for the priests; that previous to the visits of Jesus to Bethany the parents had ascended to their reward, leaving on earth their three orphan children; that the native sweetness of their spirit, the purity of their devotion, and their constant attention to his recurring wants, engaged his affection and secured his benediction; that here, in their midst, he laid aside the awful grandeur of Teacher and Judge of mankind, and in all the refined amenities of social life he displayed the finer traits of his character, which were hidden from the common eye. And how intimate must have been that friendship for the care-burdened Martha to come to him with her little domestic troubles;[189] and how tender the attachment for those stricken sisters to think only of him when their brother died. A greater benefactor than beneficiary, he rewarded those pious sisters with a gift worthy of a God. The brief but sad message they sent him――“Lord, behold, he whom thou lovedst is sick”――awakened all the deeper emotions of his friendship. Though even a melancholy relief to be with those we love in the hour of death, yet, that the Son of Man might be glorified, Jesus delayed his coming till after the demise and burial of his friend. Many a time had those sorrowing sisters passionately exclaimed, “Oh that the Master were here!” Coming from the fountains of Bethabara, he sought the sepulchre of Lazarus. Omnipotence stirred within him; a groan for life escaped his lips, a prayer entered heaven that knew no denial, a voice was heard in the spirit world calling back a departed soul to earth and to a new probation. That voice was obeyed. Lazarus came forth, and joy filled the hearts of those orphan sisters.[190] And now, after the lapse of so many centuries, the inspired story, read upon the spot, has all the freshness of reality; and though time has marred the beauty of that mountain home, and borne to the grave the friends of Jesus, yet Mary’s alabaster box of costly ointment and spikenard, very precious, is still fragrant with the odor of undying love, and “wheresoever this gospel is preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.”[191]