The Lazarus of Sai Baba

O Christmas Season of recent past—
Blessed by a drama that Baba directed:
As Lazarus was raised, after breathing `his last’,
Walter Cowan was thrice `resurrected’.

When spirit left the body’s brace
Sai appeared at Walter’s side;
O to look upon that Effulgent Face
In life, and when one’s died!

(His promise is our Treasure Grand:
He will never desert a devotee—
And through Death’s Portals holds our hand;
We are never parted from Thee!)

King David sang with steadfast faith
To the Shepherd of Human Flock:
“No evil shall I fear, when through
The Valley of Death I walk.”

Walter’s experience proved this Psalm
To be a prayer of Truth—
Swami is there, with the Balm
When Yama smites without ruth.

To the Hall of Judgement Baba led
This man now serene, released;
They met the Accountant of the Dead;
Walter felt, not dismay, but Peace.

Chitragupta, kindly and wise,
Scrolls in hand, proclaimed,
“Your works and character are here, column‑wise,
From ages forgotten, un‑named.”

Two hours of reading brought to light
The good lives of our friend;
His Soul felt Bliss of heavenly might—
Though, on earth, grief had, no salt.

Sai Baba announced at this crucial time,
“He yet has My Work to do;
His soul must now reverse its climb
For a mission of mercy and truth”.

The Lord got custody of this Man
For return with Him to Earth!
The Judge had to change the karmic plan
And say, “So be it. A re-birth.”

Only God’s Love could eclipse Death’s Might
And bring with It, he that Death’s borne;
Soul returns to flesh, with new-won Sight,
Much to the joy of those who mourn

Walter’s wife, at the body, dressed rose-hue,
Saw breath moving him that was ‘sleeping’.
Walter whispered, “In pink! So lovely are you!”
And she fell into sanctified tearful thanking.

To have this Fortune, unique, to talk
With one who has died in the Lord,
Erases our fear of the unknown walk
All must take through Transition’s Door.

Generations will hear of this Story
That beckons to all human‑kind:
“Feast upon Sai’s Arch‑Glory!
Marvel at His Love Divine!”

—Karen Shultz
Source: Sanathana Sarathi, June 1973