Consider her palaces!
That ye may tell it to the generation following.
For this God is our God, for ever and ever.
He will be our guide, as in our youth.—Ps. xlviii.
Expectation had reached the highest pitch. The last strophes were not completely sung; many were already silent, eagerly watching for the first sight of Jerusalem. All eyes were turned towards the north; a faint murmur spread from rank to rank among the people, only those who had been at the festival before continued the psalm, and these solitary scattered voices formed a solemn contrast with the silence of the rest of the multitude. Helon’s heart was in his eye, and he could scarcely draw his breath. When the psalm was concluded, the instruments prolonged the sound for a moment, and then all that mighty multitude, so lately jubilant, was still as death.
All at once the foremost ranks exclaimed, Jerusalem, Jerusalem! Jerusalem, Jerusalem! resounded through the valley of Rephaim. “Jerusalem, thou city built on high, we wish thee peace!” The children dragged their parents forward with them, and all hands were lifted up to bless.
The high white walls of the Holy City cast a gleam along the valley: Zion arose with its palaces, and from Moriah the smoke of the offering was ascending to heaven. It was the hour of the evening sacrifice. Scarcely had the multitude recovered a little, when they began to greet the temple and the priests:
Bless ye the Lord, all ye servants of the Lord,
Who stand by night in the house of the Lord!
Lift up your hands towards the sanctuary,