My Three Days in Gilead

by Elmer U. Hoenshel

My Three Days in Gilead

I love to breathe where Gilead sheds her balm;
I love to walk on Jordan's banks of palm;
I love to wet my foot in Herman's dews;
I love the promptings of Isaiah's muse;
In Carmel's holy grots I'll court repose,
And deck my mossy couch with Sharon's deathless rose.
—J. PIERPONT.

MY THREE DAYS IN GILEAD

By Elmer U. Hoenshel, D. D.,

Principal of Shenandoah Collegiate Institute
and School of Music

In profound gratitude, this little volume is dedicated to the memory of William Barakat of Jerusalem.

My faithful, careful dragoman, who in manhood's prime, yet not many months before his death, guided me in safety, not only during my trying "Three Days in Gilead," but also throughout an extended tour otherwhere in his native land—the Holy Land of my faith.

THE AUTHOR

INTRODUCTION

At last, after waiting twenty leaden-winged years from the time in which a fixed purpose was formed in me to visit the Orient, the realization came. The year that saw the fulfillment of my cherished ambition was definitely determined upon eight summers before it took its place in the calendar of history. Fortune smiled upon my plan. I was ready. My joy was akin to ecstasy.