our horses' feet upon the hard highroad. Let us not go into the confusion of the city, but ride quietly down to the left into a great olive-grove, outside the Damascus Gate.
Here our white tents are pitched among the trees, with the dear flag of our home flying over them. Here we shall find leisure and peace to unite our hearts, and bring our thoughts into tranquil harmony, before we go into the bewildering city. Here the big stars will look kindly down upon us through the silvery leaves, and the sounds of human turmoil and contention will not trouble us. The distant booming of the bell on the Mount of Olives will mark the night-hours for us, and the long-drawn plaintive call of the muezzin from the minaret of the little mosque at the edge of the grove will wake us to the sunrise.
A PSALM OF THE WELCOME TENT
This is the thanksgiving of the weary:
The song of him that is ready to rest.
It is good to be glad when the day is declining:
And the setting of the sun is like a word of peace.
The stars look kindly on the close of a journey:
The tent says welcome when the day's march is done.
For now is the time of the laying down of burdens:
And the cool hour cometh to them that have borne the heat.
I have rejoiced greatly in labour and adventure:
My heart hath been enlarged in the spending of my strength.
Now it is all gone yet I am not impoverished:
For thus only may I inherit the treasure of repose.
Blessed be the Lord that teacheth my hands to unclose and my fingers to loosen:
He also giveth comfort to the feet that are washed from the dust of the way.
[page 44] Blessed be the Lord that maketh my meat at nightfall savoury:
And filleth my evening cup with the wine of good cheer.
Blessed be the Lord that maketh me happy to be quiet:
Even as a child that cometh softly to his mother's lap.
O God thou faintest not neither is thy strength worn away with labour:
But it is good for us to be weary that we may obtain thy gift of rest.