SEA OF GALILEE.
Long before night our tents were stretched on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. This is the most hallowed spot to which we have yet come. No place we have visited is so fraught with holy memories. Arriving here, I dismounted, went into my tent, and there for the first time knelt down and kissed the earth. I knew it was a sacred place. Around this lake our Blessed Lord spent most of His public life. Every thing here wears a holy aspect; every thing is suggestive of the Savior. When I see the men in their row boats, toiling at their nets, I am naturally reminded of the miraculous draught of fishes, of the worldly occupation of those whom Jesus, walking on these very shores, called to follow Him, saying: “I will make you fishers of men.” Probably the ancestors of these half-clad people before me were among the “multitude whom Jesus fed with a few loaves and fishes” on the opposite bank of the lake, or among that other multitude who thronged the beach where I now stand, and, pressing the water’s edge, listened with bated breath to Christ as He spake from Simon’s boat, built, no doubt, like these on the lake.
Before me are the sites of three ancient cities whose very names have become a reproach; and who can wonder! They rest under the direct curse of Him who said: “Woe unto thee, Chorazin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida! for I say unto you that in the day of judgment it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon than for you, Chorazin and Bethsaida!—and thou, Capernaum, which art exalted unto Heaven, shalt be brought down to hell.” Yea, truly; Capernaum, the home of Christ, has been cast down to hell. The city rejected Christ and ever since that time the curse of God has rested upon it. A word to the wise is sufficient. I will therefore only add; reader, be sure you do not reject Him of whom Moses and the prophets did write.
Standing on the western edge of the lake, near the northern end, and looking in a north-westerly direction, I see, about 300 yards away, a man plowing with a wooden plow, drawn by a milk cow and a donkey. In the same field, and close by the plowman, is another man with a basket on his arm full of seed corn (wheat) which he is strewing broadcast over the ground. This reminds me that once upon a time our Lord was standing on these shores, near where I now am. A great multitude of people had assembled to listen to His gracious words. The press was so great that our Lord stepped into a little boat and pushed it out a little way on the water. As the people stood on the shore Christ sat in the boat and preached to them. He began His sermon, “The sower went forth to sow. Some seed fell by the wayside, some among thorns and some in the rocks.” This scene was being re-enacted before my own eyes. How delightful are such experiences! How it carries one back to ancient days! This lake furnished the subject for the parable of the net. And on the left are the hills and fields whence was drawn the comparison to the leaven, the hidden treasure, the pearl of great price. Around this lake the lilies grew and the ravens fed, which the Lord bade us remember.
Galilee is a beautiful lake. It is ten to twelve miles long and six to eight miles wide. The rocky walls surrounding the lake rise, in some places, several hundred feet above its surface. Most of the country around is rough and barren. A few fig and other fruit and shade trees grow near the water’s edge.
But if you would see the beauty—the poetry of Galilee, wait until the glare of day has mellowed into twilight; wait until a holy calm broods over the lake and its surface has been transformed into a silver mirror. Then the great stars above you gleam like nuggets of gold in the blue depths below. Now go “silently and alone” and walk on the beach. You find that distance is annihilated. The lake may be six, sixty, or six hundred miles wide—you can not tell—you do not care. You are not thinking of time or distance, either. The beauty of the scene rivets your attention. Sacred memories crowd upon the mind, and you can but say: “Oh! Galilee! Galilee! For thousands of years have thy pure waters been surging against these historic shores—these sacred shores. Upon thy watery surface Jesus did walk, as though it had been marble pavement. When the storm did come and thou wert lashed into rage and fury, when thy waves were tossed like mountains to the sky; when the frail bark was threatened, and human life endangered; the Son of God whispered: ‘Peace, be still.’ The winds obeyed Him and thy waves, O Galilee, crouched at His feet. For these reasons thou hast become a holy—a sacred sea.
“And now I, even I, a humble disciple of that same Jesus, am permitted to walk on thy shores and sail on thy waters.”