to the vaulted heavens, and rested there in patient musing.
Yes, so it would be always. No miracles, no words would ever strike home where revelation had not penetrated. No human power, no earthly preaching, no laws, could ever produce that spark of living fire that came from God direct.
Yes, all know, all understand, where salvation is to be found; 't is a Pool of Siloam awaiting all. And all mean one day to wash in it—when they find the time convenient. All intend to be saved, all believe; but there is ample time; and, meanwhile, there is much to be done, buying and selling, laughing and making merry, decking and feasting, striving for power and place; and, when we reach the pool at last, the angel is not there to stir the waters.
So mused Lazarus, yet it seemed to him that Martha was partly right. Not to tell of his experiences during those four days was to keep back much helpful knowledge—perhaps, even to oppose God's purpose. Yet he had received no word to tell the world. Those four days seemed to him so sacred, so utterly unconnected with this world, that he had not dared reveal what he had seen. For some days he had been dazed with the marvel of it, and there had been no Christ to help or guide him; for immediately the miracle was over the Nazarene had departed to Ephraim, both to escape the multitude and to prepare for His death, which could not be far distant now. Already Jerusalem was filling fast with the inhabitants of the outskirts and the country round, who gathered there to eat the Passover and to purify themselves beforehand.
