This place has been suggested by Major Condor as the probable site of Mizpah in Gilead. A group of fine stone monuments, in ruins, is yet to be seen here. If this be the location of Mizpah then here is the place where Jacob and Laban made their covenant of lasting peace, and erected the "heap of witness" (Gen. 31:44-52), saying, "The Lord watch between me and thee when we are absent one from another." Then they parted, Laban going back to Mesopotamia and Jacob pressing on with anxious heart toward the near Jabbok and the farther lands of his estranged brother Esau.
Inspired by the covenant at Mizpah, and with a desire to help others to establish covenants of peace, and to accept with cheerful resignation enforced separation from loved ones, a recent writer, Julia A. Baker, has written beautifully the following poem entitled "Mizpah":
Go thou thy way and I go mine;
Apart, yet ever near;
Only a veil hangs thin between
The pathways where we are;
And "God keep watch 'tween thee and me,"
This is my prayer;
He looks thy way, he looketh mine,
And keeps us near.
I know not where thy road may lie,
Or which way mine may be;
If mine will lead through parching sands,
And thine beside the sea;
Yet "God keeps watch 'tween thee and me,"
So, never fear.
He holds thy hand, he claspeth mine,
And keeps us near.
Should wealth and fame perchance be thine,
And my lot lowly be,
Or thou be sad or sorrowful,
And glory be for me;
Yet "God keeps watch 'tween thee and me,"
Both be his care;
One arm 'round thee and one 'round me
Will keep us near.
I'll sigh sometimes to see thy face,
But since this cannot be,
I'll leave thee to the care of Him
Who cares for thee and me.
"I'll keep thee both beneath my wings"—
This comfort dear—
One wing o'er thee and one o'er me;
So we are near.
And tho' our paths be separate,
And thy way be not mine,
Yet coming to the mercy-seat,
My soul will meet with thine;
And "God keep watch 'tween thee and me,"
I'll whisper there;
He blesseth thee, he blesseth me,
And we are near.
If this place were Mizpah, then here Jephthah lived; and here, when he went out to fight against the Ammonites, he made the vow to sacrifice whatsoever should come forth out of the doors of his house to meet him on his return from the battle, if the Lord would only give him the victory. The battle was fought, and Jephthah triumphed. The glad news reached his home; and out from his house rushed his daughter, his only child, with timbrels and with dances, to meet her hero-father, not knowing the nature of his vow made on the eve of the battle. Her presence caused the brave warrior to tremble with horror and rend his clothes when he remembered his vow. The daughter was dismayed—instead of a smile of joy from her father she read her doom in his blanched and contorted face. And somewhere on these hills round about the voice of wailing arose for two months from many maidens because Jephthah must fulfill his rash vow by sacrificing his only child. But he did unto her according to his word; and annually thereafter for a period of four days these hills resounded with the voice of weeping—the weeping of the maidens of Mizpah over the sad fate of Jephthah's daughter. (Judges 11.)
Farther on we ascend a high ridge and then begin our descent into the southern branch of the wady of Ajlun. After winding about for some time among the rocks and brush in the dry bed of this wady we finally halt at Ain Jenneh, a good, strong fountain issuing from under a great rock. We are yet in the upper reaches of the wady and near the present village of Ajlun. Here we lunch and rest an hour.
Some authorities identify this region as the place where was the "wood of Ephraim." That being true, it is the place where Absalom lost his life. Certain it is, even to-day, that to leave the little path that we are following would mean to become hopelessly entangled in jungles of prickly oak and other growth. Even in the path it is with difficulty that I keep my garments from being torn from me.