But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said,
Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone?
bid her therefore that she help me.
“Dost thou not care?” The words still ring in my ear!
“Dost thou not care?” How could I have said such a thing
To the Holy Son of God; my Savior and Friend, so dear?
“Dost thou not care?” To the One who bore my sting!
“Dost thou not care?” It played over and over
Every time we met, I can hear them still:
“Dost thou not care?” Till my heart can bear it no more!
“Dost thou not care?” There on Calvary’s hill!
Oh, how He cares! Even in the rebuke He made,
His love showed clear, in His voice, in His eyes.
When He came once again, and we stood near the grave,
And we talked of my loss, of a brother’s last goodbye,
And I saw it afresh, as He stood there and wept.
How could I ever have thought less?
Oh, how He cared for each soul that He met.
Every word, look, and touch was love’s caress.
Oh, how He cares, and cares, and cares!
He cares with a perfect will and way,
His purpose for coming was to show that He cares!
Though I did not see it on that horrible day.
“Dost thou not care?” Though it plagues me still,
It serves as a goad to prod my sinful heart,
And turns my thoughts, my way, and my will:
To show His loving kindness and to do my part.