world is like unto an eye. The ocean surrounding the world is the white of the eye; its

black is the world itself; the pupil is Jerusalem; but the image within the pupil is the

sanctuary.' In their sorrow and loneliness they have written many fabled things of

Jerusalem, of which some may here find a place, to show with what halo of reverence

they surrounded the loving memories of the past. Jerusalem, they say, belonged to no

tribe in particular--it was all Israel's. And this is in great measure literally true; for even

afterwards, when ancient Jebus became the capital of the land, the boundary line

between Judah and Benjamin ran right through the middle of the city and of the Temple;

so that, according to Jewish tradition, the porch and the sanctuary itself were in

Benjamin, and the Temple courts and altar in Judah. In Jerusalem no house might be

hired. The houses belonged as it were to all; for they must all be thrown open, in free-

hearted hospitality, to the pilgrim-brethren that came up to the feast. Never had any one

failed to find in Jerusalem the means of celebrating the paschal festivities, nor yet had

any lacked a bed on which to rest. Never did serpent or scorpion hurt within her

precincts; never did fire desolate her streets, nor ruin occur. No ban ever rested on the

Holy City. It was Levitically more sacred than other cities, since there alone the paschal

lamb, the thank-offerings, and the second tithes might be eaten. Hence they carefully

guarded against all possibility of pollution. No dead body might remain in the city

overnight; no sepulchres were there, except those of the house of David and of the

prophetess Huldah. No even domestic fowls might be kept, nor vegetable gardens be

planted, lest the smell of decaying vegetation should defile the air; nor yet furnaces be

built, for fear of smoke. Never had adverse acident interrupted the services of the

sanctuary, nor profaned the offerings. Never had rain extinguished the fire on the altar,

nor contrary wind driven back the smoke of the sacrifices; nor yet, however great the

crowd of worshipperes, had any failed for room to bow down and worship the God of

Thus far the Rabbis. All the more impressive is their own admission and their lament--

so significant as viewed in the light of the Gospel: 'For three years and a half abode the

Shechinah' (or visible Divine presence) 'on the Mount of Olives,'--waiting whether

Israel would repent--'and calling upon them, "Seek ye the Lord while He may be found,

call upon Him while He is near." And when all was in vain, then the Shechinah returned

to its own place!'

The Shechinah has withdrawn to its own place! Both the city and the Temple have been

laid 'even with the ground,' because Jerusalem knew not the time of her visitation (Luke

19:44). 'They have laid Jerusalem on heaps' (Psalm 79:1). 'The stones of the sanctuary are

poured out in the top of every street' (Lam 4:1). All this, and much more, did the Saviour,

the rightful King of Israel, see in the near future, when 'He beheld the city, and wept

over it.' And now we must search very deep down, sinking the shaft from 60 to over 125

feet through the rubbish of accumulated ruins, before reaching at last the ancient

foundations. And there, close by where once the royal bridge spanned the deep chasm

and led from the City of David into the royal porch of the Temple, is 'the Jews' Wailing

Place,' where the mourning heirs to all this desolation reverently embrace the

fallen stones, and weep unavailing tears --unavailing because the present is as the past,

and because what brought that judgment a d sorrow is unrecognised, unrepented,

n

unremoved. Yet--'Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night? The

watchman said, The morning cometh and also the night. If ye will inquire, inquire!

Return, come!'