Again the procession advanced. The road descends a slight declivity, and the glimpse of the city is again withdrawn behind the intervening ridge of Olivet. A few moments, and the path mounts again, it climbs a rugged ascent, it reaches a ledge of smooth rock, and in an instant the whole city bursts into view. As now the dome of the Mosque El-Aksa rises like a ghost from the earth before the traveller stands on the ledge, so then must have risen the Temple-tower; as now the vast enclosure of the Mussulman sanctuary, so then must have spread the Temple-courts; as now the gray town on its broken hills, so then the magnificent city, with its background-long since vanished away of gardens and suburbs on the western plateau behind. Immediately below was the Valley of the Kedron, here seen in its greatest depth as it joins the Valley of Hinnom, and thus giving full effect to the great peculiarity of Jerusalem, seen only on its eastern side-its situation as of a city rising out of a deep abyss. It is hardly possible to doubt that this rise and turn of the road,-this rocky ledge,-was the exact point where the multitude paused again, and "He, when He beheld the city, wept over it."

Nowhere else on the Mount of Olives is there a view like this. By the two other approaches, above mentioned, over the summit, and over the northern shoulder, of the hill, the city reveals itself gradually; there is no partial glimpse like that which has been just described as agreeing so well with the first outbreak of popular acclamation, still less is there any point where, as here, the city and Temple would suddenly burst into view, producing the sudden and affecting impression described in the Gospel narrative. And this precise coincidence is the more remarkable because the traditional route of the Triumphal Entry is over the summit of Olivet; and the traditional spot of the lamentation is at a place half-way down the mountain, to which the description is wholly inapplicable, whilst no tradition attaches to this, the only road by which a large procession could have come; and this, almost the only spot of the Mount of Olives which the Gospel narrative fixes with exact certainty, is almost the only unmarked spot,-undefiled or unhallowed by mosque or church, chapel or tower-left to speak for itself, that here the Lord stayed His onward march, and here His eyes

beheld what is still the most impressive view which the neighbourhood of Jerusalem furnishes,-and the tears rushed forth at the sight.

After this scene-which, with the one exception of the conversation at the Well of Jacob, stands alone in the Gospel history for the vividness and precision of its localisation-it is hardly worth while to dwell on the spots elsewhere pointed out by tradition or probability on the rest of the Mountain. They belong, for the most part, to the "Holy Places" of later pilgrimage, not to the authentic illustrations of the Sacred History. It is enough to know that to the gardens and oliveyards which then, as now, but probably with greater richness of foliage, and greater security of walls and watch-towers,covered the slopes of the hill, He resorted, as His countrymen must always have resorted, for retirement and refreshment from the crowded streets of the city. On one of the rocky banks of the mountain, immediately "over against the Temple," He sate and saw the sun go down over the city', and foretold Prophecy. its final doom. Bethany, on the further side, was the home to which he retired; any of the fig-trees which spring out of the rocky soil on either side of the road, might be the one which bore no fruit. On the wild uplands which immediately overhang the village, He finally withdrew from the eyes of His The Ascen- disciples, in a seclusion which, perhaps, could nowhere else be found so near the stir of a mighty city-the long ridge of Olivet screening those hills, and those hills the village beneath them, from all sound or sight of the city behind; the view opening only on the wide waste of desert-rocks and ever-descending valleys, into the depths of the distant Jordan

The Last

sion.

1 Such at least is the probable inference from Luke xxi. 37, that he was usually in the Temple for the daytime, and retired to the mountain in the evening. From the circumstance that the gates of the city are closed at sunset, very few travellers have ever seen this view of Jerusalem at this most impressive moment of the day. The only recorded instance is in Bartlett's Jerusalem Revisited, p. 115. "Beautiful as this view was in the morning, it was far more striking when the sun about to sink in the west

cast a rich slanting glow along the level grassy area, and marble platform of the Temple enclosure, touching with gold the edge of the Dome of the Rock, and the light arabesque fountains with which the area is studded; while the eastern walls and the deep valley below are thrown into a deep and solemn shadow, creeping, as the orb sinks lower, further and further towards the summit (of Olivet), irradiated with one parting gleam of roseate light, after all below was sunk in obscurity."

and its mysterious lake. At this point, the last interview took place. "He led them out as far as Bethany;" and "they returned," probably by the direct road, over the summit of Mount Olivet'. The appropriateness of the real scene presents a singular contrast to the inappropriateness of that fixed by a later fancy, "seeking for a sign," on the broad top of the mountain, out of sight of Bethany, and in full sight of Jerusalem, and thus in equal contradiction to the letter and the spirit of the Gospel narrative.

These are all points which can be certainly connected with the life of Christ in Jerusalem and its neighbourhood. Yet, perhaps, there is a general conclusion left by the whole, more instructive than any detail.

At the sight of Delphi, there is one thought which rises even above the deep solemnity of the spot, and that is the Conclusense of its vacancy and desertion. The scene seemed, sion. as I saw it many years ago, to be the exact echo of Milton's noble lines

"The oracles are dumb,

No voice or hideous hum

Runs thro' the arched roof in words deceiving :
Apollo from his shrine

Can no more divine,

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving."

Something akin to this feeling is that which is finally left on the mind after exploring the neighbourhood of Jerusalem. At first, there cannot but be something of a shock in seeing, before our eyes and under our feet, places in comparison with whose sanctity the High Altar of St. Peter's would seem profane. Yet gradually this thought dissolves, and another comes in its place. These localities have, indeed, no real connection with Him. It is true that they bring the scene vividly before usthat, in many instances, as we shall see hereafter, they illustrate His words and works in detail. But the more we gaze at them, the more do we feel that this interest and instruction are secondary, not primary: their value is imaginative and historical, not religious. The desolation and degradation, which have so often left on those who visit Jerusalem the impression of an accursed city, read in this sense a true lesson:" He is not here: He is risen."

1 Luke xxiv. 50; Acts i. 12. See Chapter XIV.

CHAPTER IV.

THE HEIGHTS AND THE PASSES OF BENJAMIN.

Joshua xviii. 11-13. "And the lot of the tribe of the children of Benjamin came up according to their families and the coast of their lot came forth between the children of Judah and the children of Joseph.-And their border on the north side was from Jordan; and the border went up to the side of Jericho on the north side, and went up through the mountains westward; and the goings out thereof were at the wilderness of Beth-aven. -And the border went over from thence toward Luz, to the side of Luz, which is Beth-el, southward; and the border descended to Ataroth-adar, near the hill that lieth on the south side of the nether Beth-horon."