that house which is taken up with uncharitableness, profaneness, contention.

But, O Saviour, how doth this agree? thou lovedst this family, yet, hearing of their distress, thou heldest off two days more from them: Canst thou love those thou regardest not? canst thou regard them from whom thou willingly absentest thyself in their necessity? Behold, thy love, as it is above. ours, so it is oft against ours. Even out of every affection art thou not seldom absent. None of thine but have sometimes cried, "How long, Lord?" What need we instance, when thine eternal Father did purposely estrange his face from thee, so as thou criedst out of forsaking?

Here thou wouldst knowingly delay, whether for the greatening of the miracle, or for the strengthening of thy disciples' faith.

Hadst thou gone sooner, and prevented the death, who had known, whether strength of nature, and not thy miraculous power, had done it? hadst thou overtaken his death by this quickening visitation, who had known, whether this had been only some qualm or ecstasy, and not a perfect dissolution? Now this large gap of time makes thy work both certain and glorious.

And what a clear proof was this beforehand to thy disciples, that thou wert able to accomplish thine own resurrection on the third day, who wert able to raise up Lazarus on the fourth. The more difficult the work should be, the more need it had of an omnipotent confirmation.

He, that was Lord of our times and his own, can now, when he found it seasonable, say, "Let us go into Judea again." Why left he it before? was it not upon the heady violence of his enemies? Lo, the stones of the Jews drove him thence; the love of Lazarus and the care of his divine glory drew him back thither.

We may, we must be wise as serpents for our own preservation; we must be careless of danger, when God calls us to the hazard. It is far from God's purpose to give us leave so far to respect ourselves, as that we should neglect him. Let Judea be all snares, all crosses, O Saviour, when thou callest us we must put our lives into our hands, and follow thee thither.

This journey thou hast purposed and contrived, but what néedst thou to acquaint thy disciples with thine intent?

Where didst thou ever, besides this, make them of counsel with thy voyages? Neither didst thou say, How think you if I go? but, "Let us go." Was it for that thou, who knewest thine own strength, knewest also their weakness? Thou wert resolute, they were timorous; they were sensible enough of their late peril, and fearful of more; there was need to forearm them with an expectation of the worst, and preparation for it. Surprisal with evils may endanger the best constancy. The heart is apt to fail, when it finds itself entrapped in a sudden mischief.

The disciples were dearly affected to Lazarus; they had learned to love where their Master loved: yet now, when our Saviour speaks of returning to that region of peril, they pull him by the sleeve, and put him in mind of the violence offered unto him; "Master, the Jews of late sought to stone thee, and goest thou thither again?"

No less than thrice, in the foregoing chapter, did the Jews lift up their hands to murder him by a cruel lapidation, Whence was this rage and bloody attempt of theirs? only for that he taught them the truth concerning his divine nature, and gave himself the just style of the Son of God. How subject carnal hearts are to be impatient of heavenly verities! Nothing can so much fret that malignant spirit which rules in those breasts, as that Christ should have his own. If we be persecuted for his truth, we do but suffer with him with whom we shall once reign.

However the disciples pleaded for their Master's safety, yet they aimed at their own; they well knew their danger was inwrapped in his. It is but a cleanly colour that they put upon their own fear. This is held but a weak and base passion; each one would be glad to put off the opinion of it from himself, and to set the best face upon his own impotency.

Thus, white-livered men, that shrink and shift from the cross, will not want fair pretences to evade it. One pleads the peril of many dependents, another the disfurnishing the church of succeeding abettors: each will have some plausible excuse for his sound skin. What error did not our Saviour rectify in his followers? even that fear, which they would have dissembled, is graciously dispelled by the just consideration of a sure and inevitable Providence. "Are there not twelve hours in the day," which are duly set, and proceed

regularly for the direction of all the motions and actions of men? so in this course of mine, which I must run on earth, there is a set and determined time wherein I must work, and do my Father's will. The sun, that guides these hours, is the determinate counsel of my Father, and his calling to the execution of my charge: while I follow that, I cannot miscarry, no more than a man can miss his known way at high noon this while in vain are either your dissuasions or the attempts of enemies; they cannot hurt, ye cannot divert me.

The journey then holds to Judea; his attendants shall be made acquainted with the occasion. He, that had formerly denied the deadliness of Lazarus's sickness, would not suddenly confess his death, neither yet would he altogether conceal it so will he therefore confess it, as that he will shadow it out in a borrowed expression; "Lazarus our friend sleepeth." What a sweet title is here both of death and of Lazarus! death is a sleep, Lazarus is our friend. Lo, he says not my friend, but ours; to draw them first into a gracious familiarity and communion of friendship with himself; for what doth this import, but, "ye are my friends," and Lazarus is both my friend and yours?" our friend."

O meek and merciful Saviour, that disdainest not to stoop so low, as that, while thou "thoughtst it no robbery to equal unto God," thou thoughtst it no disparagement to match thyself with weak and wretched men! "our friend Lazarus!" There is a kind of parity in friendship. There may be love where is the most inequality, but friendship supposes pairs yet the Son of God says of the sons of men, "Our friend Lazarus." O what an high and happy condition is this for mortal men to aspire unto, that the God of heaven should not be ashamed to own them for friends! neither saith he now abruptly, Lazarus our friend is dead; but, "Lazarus our friend sleepeth."

O Saviour, none can know the estate of life or death so well as thou that art the Lord of both. It is enough that thou tellest us death is no other than sleep: that which was wont to pass for the cousin of death, is now itself. All this while we have mistaken the case of our dissolution: we took it for an enemy, it proves a friend; there is pleasure in that wherein we supposed horror.

Who is afraid, after the weary toils of the day, to take

his rest by night? or what is more refreshing to the spent traveller than a sweet sleep? It is our infidelity, our impreparation that makes death any other than advantage. Even so, Lord, when thou seest I have toiled enough, let me sleep in peace; and when thou seest I have slept enough, awake me, as thou didst thy Lazarus: "But I go to awake him." Thou saidst not, Let us go to awake him: those whom thou wilt allow companions of thy way, thou wilt not allow partners of thy work; they may be witnesses, they cannot be actors. None can awake Lazarus out of this sleep, but he that made Lazarus. Every mouse or gnat can raise us up from that other sleep; none but an omnipotent power from this. This sleep is not without a dissolution. Who can command the soul to come down and meet the body, or command the body to piece with itself, and rise up to the soul, but the God that created both? It is our comfort and assurance, O Lord, against the terrors of death, and tenacity of the grave, that our resurrection depends upon none but thine omnipotence.

Who can blame the disciples, if they are loath to return to Judea? their last entertainment was such as might justly dishearten them. Were this as literally taken, all the reason of our Saviour's purpose of so perilous a voyage, they argued not amiss, "If he sleep, he shall do well. Sleep in sickness is a good sign of recovery, for extremity of pain bars our rest: when nature, therefore, finds so much respiration, she justly hopes for better terms. Yet it doth not always follow, "If he sleep, he shall do well:" how many have died of lethargies! how many have lost, in sleep, what they would not have foregone waking! Adam slept and lost his rib; Samson slept and lost his strength; Saul slept and lost his weapon; Ishbosheth and Holofernes slept, and lost their heads in ordinary course it holds well, here they mistook and erred. The misconstruction of the words of Christ led them into an unseasonable and erroneous suggestion. Nothing can be more dangerous than to take the speeches of Christ according to the sound of the letter; one error will be sure to draw on more, and if the first be never so slight, the last may be important.

Wherefore are words but to express meanings? why do we speak, but to be understood? Since, then, our Saviour saw himself not rightly construed, he delivers himself plainly,

"Lazarus is dead." Such is thy manner, O thou eternal Word of thy Father, in all thy sacred expressions. Thine own mouth is thy best commentary; what thou hast more obscurely said in one passage, thou interpretest more clearly in another. Thou art the sun, which givest us that light whereby we see thyself.

But how modestly dost thou discover thy deity to thy disciples! not upon the first mention of Lazarus's death, instantly professing thy power and will of his resuscitation; but contenting thyself only to intimate thy omniscience, in that thou couldst, in that absence and distance, know and report his departure; they shall gather the rest, and cannot choose but think, we serve a Master that knows all things; and he that knows all things, can do all things.

The absence of our Saviour from the death-bed of Lazarus was not casual, but voluntary; yea, he is not only willing with it, but glad of it: "I am glad, for your sakes, that I was not there." How contrary may the affections of Christ and ours be, and yet be both good. The two worthy sisters were much grieved at our Saviour's absence, as doubting it might savour of some neglect; Christ was glad of it, for the advantage of his disciples' faith. I cannot blame them, that they were thus sorry; I cannot but bless him, that he was thus glad. The gain of their faith, in so divine a miracle, was more than could be countervailed by their momentary sorrow. God and we are not alike affected with the same events; he laughs where we mourn; he is angry where we are pleased.

The difference of the affections arises from the difference of the objects, which Christ and they apprehend in the same occurrence. Why are the sisters sorrowful? because, upon Christ's absence, Lazarus died. Why was Jesus glad he was not there? for the benefit which he saw would accrue to

their faith. There is much variety of prospect in every act, according to the several intentions and issues thereof, yea, even in the very same eyes. The Father sees his Son combating in a duel for his country; he sees blows and wounds on the one side, he sees renown and victory on the other; he grieves at the wounds, he rejoices in the honour. Thus doth God in all our afflictions; he sees our tears, and hears our groans, and pities us; but withal, he looks upon our patience, our faith, our crown, and is glad that we are afflicted.