They bore him toward the north gate. Once before
Had she, his mother, followed a like bier
Beyond its portals. With submissive feet
Her slow steps beat a requiem for the dead.
But question after question tore her heart:
Why had her prayer not saved him? Did God hear?
From youth she had been taught God's will was done.
Was it God's will that prayer and hope should lose
And death forever win? Was life so weak?
Yet life had conquered—that brave Shunammite!
But there were prophets then; she was alone,
How could she hope to save him? Even now
The bier was slowly passing through the gate—
A sepulcher was waiting just beyond.
Beyond the wall the mourners slackened pace:
A company approached them. She looked up
To see a stranger coming to her side:
She met his gaze and in those eyes beheld
A tenderness beyond all human thought.
He said, "Weep not," and suddenly a glow
Enmantled all about her. All her fear—
The past, with all its anguish—disappeared.
It was as if they two were standing where
Creation was unfolding.
When he turned
With that command, "Young man, I say arise!"
She heard that first recording, "And God said,
Let there be light: and there was light." No shade
Could penetrate that brightness. "There was light."
Irradiant omnipresence! Endless light!
This was the miracle. There was no death.
