DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.11448#0393
XHAF IX-]
THE PILGRIM.
85
as the house where Mary dwelt, where Dives revelled, and where
dogs licked the sores of Lazarus; the spot where the cock crew,
the cavern where Peter wept. Enough for us, that on this soil
the Saviour laid down his life—so transcendently heroic, so
meekly humble : enough for us, that these skies above us received
Him risen, and still bespeak his presence. Pensively let us as-
cend the rugged Road of Sorrow,* along which the Cross was
painfully borne; mournfully let us stand on Calvary; then
gratefully turn to the Mount of Olives—in pilgrim language the
Mount of Blessing—and breathe a prayer that the experience of
that day may not be lost upon the soul.—We envy not the man
who can merge the pilgrim in the traveller, and the believer in
the antiquary.
Often have I wandered among the desolate enclosures of Jeru-
salem, by the moon's mournful light that seemed to harmonize
with the ruins round : the streets were silent as the grave; the
night-wind, like a wailing spirit, alone wandered through the for-
saken shrines, or sighed among the cypress and the palm-trees
that towered against the dark blue sky : but sometimes the howl
of the wild dog struck upon the ear ; and more than once I was
startled by the voice of a poor Scotch maniac exclaiming in pas-
sionate accents, " Woe ! woe ! woe to Zion !"
A residence in Jerusalem, for a solitary pilgrim like myself, is
one of the strangest experiences of life. Apart from the associa-
tions by which it is hallowed, it is unlike every other city of the
earth. Its population consists, as it were, not of its own people,
but rather resembles the inmates of some great caravanserai, ac-
cidentally huddled together, denizens of distant places, professors
of various creeds, each hating and fearing the other as an alien
and a strange"
Here are mean but busy bazaars, crowded with the inhabitants
of every Eastern nation, each seeking his peculiar articles of
food or dress, and endeavouring, in his own tongue, to obtain it
for the smallest possible portion of his own coin. In one place,
you meet the scowl of some malignant Jew, who considers your
* Via Dolorosa.
THE PILGRIM.
85
as the house where Mary dwelt, where Dives revelled, and where
dogs licked the sores of Lazarus; the spot where the cock crew,
the cavern where Peter wept. Enough for us, that on this soil
the Saviour laid down his life—so transcendently heroic, so
meekly humble : enough for us, that these skies above us received
Him risen, and still bespeak his presence. Pensively let us as-
cend the rugged Road of Sorrow,* along which the Cross was
painfully borne; mournfully let us stand on Calvary; then
gratefully turn to the Mount of Olives—in pilgrim language the
Mount of Blessing—and breathe a prayer that the experience of
that day may not be lost upon the soul.—We envy not the man
who can merge the pilgrim in the traveller, and the believer in
the antiquary.
Often have I wandered among the desolate enclosures of Jeru-
salem, by the moon's mournful light that seemed to harmonize
with the ruins round : the streets were silent as the grave; the
night-wind, like a wailing spirit, alone wandered through the for-
saken shrines, or sighed among the cypress and the palm-trees
that towered against the dark blue sky : but sometimes the howl
of the wild dog struck upon the ear ; and more than once I was
startled by the voice of a poor Scotch maniac exclaiming in pas-
sionate accents, " Woe ! woe ! woe to Zion !"
A residence in Jerusalem, for a solitary pilgrim like myself, is
one of the strangest experiences of life. Apart from the associa-
tions by which it is hallowed, it is unlike every other city of the
earth. Its population consists, as it were, not of its own people,
but rather resembles the inmates of some great caravanserai, ac-
cidentally huddled together, denizens of distant places, professors
of various creeds, each hating and fearing the other as an alien
and a strange"
Here are mean but busy bazaars, crowded with the inhabitants
of every Eastern nation, each seeking his peculiar articles of
food or dress, and endeavouring, in his own tongue, to obtain it
for the smallest possible portion of his own coin. In one place,
you meet the scowl of some malignant Jew, who considers your
* Via Dolorosa.