retreat of the Essenes, whom a vain hope of finding purity in separation from the world

and its contact had brought to these solitudes. Beyond, deep down in a mysterious

hollow. stretched the smooth surface of the Dead Sea, a perpetual memorial of Go d and

of judgment. On its western shore rose the castle which Herod had named after himself,

and farther south that almost inaccessible fastness of Masada, the scene of the last

tragedy in the great Jewish war. Yet from the wild desolateness of the Dead Sea it was

but a few hours to what seemed almost an earthly paradise. Flanked and defended by

four surrounding forts, lay the important city of Jericho. Herod had built its walls, its

theatre and amphitheatre; Archelaus its new palace, surrounded by splendid gardens.

Through Jericho led the pilgrim way from Galilee, followed by our Lord Himself (Luke

19:1); and there also passed the great caravan-road, which connected Arabia with

Damascus. The fertility of its soil, and its tropical produce, were almost proverbial. Its

palm-groves and gardens of roses, but especially its balsam-plantations, of which the

largest was behind the royal palace, were the fairy land of the old world. But this also

was only a source of gain to the hated foreigner. Rome had made it a central station for

the collection of tax and custom, known to us from Gospel history as that by which the

chief publican Zaccheus had gotten his wealth. Jericho, with its general trade and its

traffic in balsam--not only reputed the sweetest perfume, but also a cherished medicine

in antiquity--was a coveted prize to all around. A strange setting for such a gem were

its surroundings. There was the deep depression of the Arabah, through which the

Jordan wound, first with tortuous impetuosity, and then, as it neared the Dead Sea,

seemingly almost reluctant to lose its waters in that slimy mass (Pliny, Hist. Nat. vi. 5, 2).

Pilgrims, priests, traders, robbers, anchorites, wild fanatics, such were the figures to be

met on that strange scene; and almost within hearing were the sacred sounds from the

Temple-mount in the distance.18

It might be so, as the heathen historian put it in regard to Judaea, that no one could

have wished for its own sake to wage serious warfare for its possession (Strabo, Geogr.

xvi. 2). The Jew would readily concede this. It was not material wealth which attracted

him hither, although the riches brought into the Temple from all quarters of the world

ever attracted the cupidity of the Gentiles. To the Jew this was the true home of his soul,

the centre of his inmost life, the longing of his heart. "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my

right hand forget her cunning," sang they who sat by the rivers of Babylon, weeping as

they remembered Zion. "If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of

my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy" (Psa 137:5,6). It is from such

pilgrim-psalms by the way as Psalm 84 or from the Songs of Ascent to the Holy City

(commonly known as the Psalms of Degrees), that we learn the feelings of Israel,

culminating in this mingled outpouring of prayer and praise, with which they greeted the

city of their longings as first it burst on their view:

Jehovah hath chosen Zion;

He hath desired it for His habitation.

This is my rest for ever:

Here will I dwell, for I desire after it!

I will abundantly bless her provision:

I will satisfy her poor with bread.

I will also clothe her priests with salvation:

And her saints shall shout aloud for joy.

There will I make the horn of David to bud:

I ordain a lamp for Mine anointed.

His enemies will I clothe with shame:

But upon himself shall his crown flourish.

Psalm 132:13-18

Words these, true alike in their literal and spiritual applications; highest hopes which,

for nigh two thousand years, have formed and still form part of Israel's daily prayer,

when they plead: "Speedily cause Thou 'the Branch of David,' Thy servant, to shoot