When My Son Raised Lazarus from the Dead
he never forgave Him
oh, . . . his sisters
loved Him more than before
but Lazarus never got over
being
called forth from His Father's
presence, since
a sparkle in the eye, the warmth of
a hug, a tug on the heart, hearing
his name -- 'Laz - a - rus?' --
whispered There aloud would
never be . . . the same again here; oh
yes, I know the feeling, for
His Father breathed in me
once
and I've
never been the same
nor has the world, and
although My Son lived (and died) to forgive him,
and loved
his sisters in return
I now know . . . of all the miracles
My Son performed
that's the one I'm ever so glad
He never did again, on earth.
Used by permission from:
The Gospel According . . . to Mary by Carl Winderl (Georgetown, KY: Finishing Line Press, 2021), p. 71.