by Laura Parry
Lehi, Utah, USA
Lazarus lay in the grave,
A long four days he slept.
Martha, Mary, many kin,
Around his bedside wept.
Finally the Savior came,
But Mary feared too late,
“Oh Lord, if thou had healed him-
But thou didst us forsake.”
The Savior could have raised him then,
And brushed her tears aside.
Instead, so moved with empathy,
His own sweet tears He cried.
And then performed the miracle,
Which they had longed to see.
A miracle made sweeter still,
By His unending empathy.
Oh Lord, please give me just a part,
Of courage, grace and empathy.
That I may do the Healer’s Art,
And strive more to be like Thee.
Help me weep with those who mourn,
To enter in that sacred space,
Where holy tears form a healing pool,
In which I find Thy grace.