Say, was it sorrow for the dead
That stirred those fountains deep?
Say, was it grief for Lazarus
That bade the Savior weep?
Was it that He would fain have caught
The last expiring breath;
Or on those much-loved features gazed
Ere they were closed in death?
No, for He knew, ‘twas His to speak
And bid death’s shadow flee;
Was He not Lord of life and death,
The Resurrection He?
What then could move the Lord to grief,
And griefs external sign?
Why should He weep o’er Lazarus
When His was power divine?
Ah! ‘twas that tender sympathy —
That love, so deep, so true,
That groaned for Mary’s agony
And Martha’s sorrow knew.
And silent friends had gathered there,
And sorrowing, round Him crept,
He knew their hearts were full of grief,
And therefore “Jesus wept.”
His soul, in one short moment, passed
Long ages in review:
Glanced at the peace of Eden’s bowers
And felt the curse was true.
Forward He looked, the coming scene
Might well His spirit move;
Shall He go on to Calvary,
Oh, deep, mysterious love!
The cross down the narrow path
In deepening shadow lay;
The darkness there — the Father’s wrath
Foreclosing life’s short day.
This side, the powers of earth and hell
Beset the narrow road,
Beyond, the choirs of heaven swell
Around the throne of God.
‘Tis done, and should that burning love
Be e’er forgot by thee:
Think on the tears that Jesus shed
In dark Gethsemane.
Think how the Lord and Master wept
To see His people’s pain;
Think how He shed His precious blood
A rest for us to gain.
Then say, should it not teach us too,
To do as He has done;
And shed our tears for others’ woe,
Like God’s beloved Son?