Lazarus Raised
In Bethany’s quiet, where sorrow was rife,
Lay Lazarus in slumber, bereft of life.
Tears flowed freely, grief weighed heavy, a shroud,
Yet hope lingered, whispered, amidst the crowd.
“Come forth,” Jesus spoke, with power unbound,
And Lazarus, from death’s grip, was unbound.
Wrapped in grave clothes, he rose from the dark,
A testament to the Savior’s embark.
In awe and wonder, the witnesses stood,
As life conquered death, as faith withstood.
For in that moment, in Bethany’s embrace,
The power of love, of grace, left its trace.
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