place of the Golden Gate, through which the King of Zion, meek and lowly, entered, “riding upon an ass." (Zech. ix. 9; Matt. xxi. 5.)

Further to the right, and near St. Stephen's Gate, is the accredited Pool of Bethesda; but I must not particularise; to do so would be to repeat the words "reputed," "accredited," "supposed," &c., ad

nauseam.

H

not as she once was, nor as she will yet be; but it is Jerusalem, and I repeat to my friend as much as I can remember of the lines:

"I WOULD-BUT YE WOULD NOT."

(Matt. xxiii. 37; Luke xix. 41.)

'Tis evening-over Salem's towers a golden lustre gleams, And lovingly and lingeringly the sun prolongs his beams; He looks, as on some work undone, for which the time has

past;

So tender is his glance and mild, it seems to be his last. But a brighter Sun is looking on, more earnest is His eye, For thunder-clouds will veil Him soon, and darken all the

sky;

O'er Zion still He bends, as loath His presence to remove, And on her walls there lingers yet the sunshine of His love.

'Tis Jesus-with an anguish'd heart, a parting glance He throws;

For mercy's day she has sinn'd away, for a night of dread

ful woes;

"Oh! would that thou hadst known," He said, while down roll'd many a tear,

"My words of peace, in this thy day! but now thine end is

near;

Alas! for thee, Jerusalem, how cold thy heart to me!

How often in these arms of love would I have gather'd thee! My sheltering wing had been thy shield, my love thy happy lot;

I would it had been thus with thee. 'I would, but ye would not.'"

He wept alone, and men pass'd on-the men whose sins He bore;

They saw the Man of Sorrows weep; they had seen Him weep before;

They ask'd not whom those tears were for, they ask'd not whence they flow'd;

Those tears were for rebellious man; their source, the heart of God:

They fell upon this desert earth, like drops from heaven on high,

Struck from an ocean-tide of love that fills eternity.

With love and tenderness divine, those crystal cells o'erflow;

'Tis God that weeps, through human eyes, for human guilt and woe.

That hour has fled; those tears are told; the agony is

past;

The Lord has wept, the Lord has bled, but has not loved

His last.

His eye of love is downward bent, still ranging to and

fro,

Where'er in this wild wilderness there roams the child

of woe;

Nor His alone the Three in One, who look'd through

Jesus' eye,

Could still the harps of angel bands, to hear the suppliant

sigh;

And when the rebel chooses wrath, God mourns his hapless

lot,

Deep breathing from His heart of love-"I would, but ye would not."

The sun disappears and the lights fade, while twilight deepens more rapidly than in England. We look once more over the hill country of Judea, towards the Dead Sea, yet again at the city, and descend the minaret stairs.

Our horses are brought; we mount and pursue a path along which we are guided by one of the Arabs, to the opposite brow of the Mount of Olives, from which we can look over Bethany.

During this ride I noticed on a path a little above us, a shepherd followed by his flock. His staff was in his hand, and he was calling out, I at first thought, to us, but from the listlessness of my companions, and a close observation of his manner, I discovered that he was calling to the sheep, no doubt by their names (John x. 3), and they followed him. I turned my head once or twice after we had passed them to look again at the lovely scripture spectacle which brought especially to my mind Psalm xxiii. and Thomas Pringle's paraphrase:

"The Lord Himself my steps doth guide;

I feel no want, I fear no foe:

Along the verdant valley's side,
Where cool the quiet waters flow,
Like as his flock a shepherd feedeth,

My soul in love Jehovah leadeth.