News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1889-12-19

somehow won the affections of all the people,
Oh, it is a lively night in yonder Bethany !
The heretofore quiet village is filed with up
| roar and outcry, and loud discussion about
the strange acting countryman. 1 do not
think there was any sleep in that house th2t
night where the stranger was stopping. Al
though he came in weary he finds no rest,
though for once in his lifetime he had pill
low. But the morning dawns, the love gar
dens wave in the light, and all along yonder
road, reaching over the top of Olivet toward
| this city, there Is vast swaying crowd of
wondering people.
The excitement around the door of the cot
| tage is wild as the stranger steps out beside
an unbroken colt that has never been mount
ed, and, after his friends have strewn their
garments on the beast for saddle, the
Saviour mounts it, and the populace excited
and shouting and feverish, push on back to-
ward the city of Jerusalem. Let none jeer
now or scott at this rider, or the populace
will trample him under foot in an instant.
! There is one long shout of two miles, and as
| far as the eye can reach you wayings of
demonstrations and approval. There was
| something in the riders yisage, something in
| his majestic brow, something in his princely
behavior that stirs up the enthusiasm of the
| people. They run up against the beast and
try to pull the rider off into their arms and
carry on their shoulders the illustrious
! stranger.
The populace are so excited that they hardly
know what to do with themselves, and some
rush up to the roadside trees and wrench off
branches and throw them in his way; and
others doff their garments, what though they
be new and costly, and spread them for q
carpet for the conqueror to ride over 'Ho-
sauna y cry the people at the foot of the
hill. "HosannaV cry the people all up and
down the mountain. The procession has
now come to the brow of yonder Olivet.
Magnificent prospect reaching out in every
direction-vineyards, olive groves, jutting
rock, silvery Sloan, and, above all, rising on
its throne of hills, this most highly honored
city of all the earth, Jerusalem. Christ there,
in the midst Of the procession, looks off and
sees here fortressed gates, and wonder the
| circiDg wall, and here the towers blazing in
the sun, Phasaelus and Marianne.
4onder Is Hippicus, the Kings castle.
Looking along in the range of the larger
branch of that olive tree, you see the man
sions of the merchant princes. Through this
cleft In the limestone rock you see the palace
of the richest trafficker In all the earth. He
has made his money by selling Tyrian pur-
pie. Behold now the temple! Clouds of
smoke lifting from the shmmering roof,
while the building rises up beautiful, grand,
majestic, the architectural skill and glory of
the earth lifting themselves there in one tri-
umphant doxology, the frozen prayer of all
nations.
The crowd looked around to see exhilara-
ton and transport in the face of Christ. Oh,
no! Out from amid the gates, and the domes,
and the palaces there arose vision of this
city's sin, and of this city's doom, which
obliterated the landscape from horizon to
horizon, and he burst into tears, crying: go
Jerusalem, Jerusalem But that was the
only day of pomp that Jesus saw in and
around this city. Yet he walked the streets
of this city the loveliest and most majestic
being that the world ever saw or ever will
see. Pubius Lentilus, in letter to the Ro-
man Senate, describes him as ga man of
stature somewhat TALL his hair the color of a
chestnut fully ripe, plain to the ears, whence
downward 1t is more orient, curling and
waving about the shoulders; in the midst of
his forehead is a stream, or partition of his
hair; forehead plain, and very delicate; his
face, without spot or wrinkle, lovely red;
his nose and mouth so forked as nothing can
be represented; his beard thick, in color like
his hairTnot very long; his eyes gray, quick
and clear"
He must die. The French army in Italy
found brass plate on which was copy OF
his death warrant, signed by John Zerub-
babel, Raphael Robani, Daniel Robani and
Capet.
Sometimes men on the way to the scaffold
have been rescued by the mob. No such an
attempt was made in this case, for the mob
were against him. From 8 in the morning
till 8 In the afternoon, Jesus hung adying in
the outskirts of this city. 1t was a scene of
blood. We are so constituted that nothing Is
so exciting as blood. 1t is not the child's cry
i'll the street that SO arouses you as the GRIM
son dripping from its lip. In the dark hail.
seeing the finger marks of blood on the plas-
tering, you cry: "What terrible deed has
been done here:" Looking upon this sus-
pended victim of the cross, we thrill with the
sight of blood-bood dripping from thorn
and nail, blood rushing upon his cheek, blood
saturating his garments, blood gathered In
pool beneath. 1t is called an honor to have
in ones veins the blood of the house of
Stuart or of the house of Hapsburg. Is it
nothing when point you to the outpouring
blood of the king of the universe!
In England the name of Henry was so
great that its hOIors were divided among
different reigns. 1t was Henry l., and Henry
IL, and Henry Ill, and Henry w., and
Henry V. In France the name of Louis
was so favorably regarded that it was Louis
l., Louis H., Louis III, and so on, But the
king who walked these streets was Christ the
First. Christ the Last t.; and Christ the only:
throne of Russia or the throne of Austria
was lifted, liking eternal, immortal"
Through the indulgenceS of the royal family
the physical life degenerates, and some OF
the kings have been almost imbecile, and
their bodies weak, and their blood thin and
watery; but the crimson life that flowed upon
Calvary had in it the health of immortal God.
Tell it now to all the earth, and to all the
heavens Jesus. our king, is sick with his
last sickness. Let couriers carry the swift
dispatch. His pains are worse; he is breath
ing last groan; through his body quivers
the last anguish; the king is dying; the king
is dead! 1t is royal blood. 1t is said that
some religiOnists make too much of the hui
manity of Christ. / respond that we make
too little. II some Roman surgeon, standing
under the cross, had caught one drop of the
blood on his hand and analysed it, it would
have been found to have the same plasma,
the same disk, the same fIbrin, the same al.
bumen. 1t was Enthusiastically human blood.
1t is man that hangs there. His bones are
of the same material as ours. His nerves are
sensitive like ours.
If it were an angel being despoiled would
not feel it so much, for it belongs to differ.
ent order of beings. But my Saviour is
man. and my whole sympathy is aroused. !
can imagine how the spikes felt-how hot
the temples burned-what deathly sickness
seized the heart-how mountain and city and
something of the meaning of that cry for |
help that makes the blood of all the ages cur
die with horror! ''My God! my God! why |
hast thou forsaken me?'
Forever with all these scenes Of Saviour's |
suffering will this city be associated. Hero |
his unjust trial and here his death. o Jeru |
salem, Jerusalem!
But finally / am thrilled with the fact thai |
this city is symbol of heaven, which Is only |
another Jerusalem, ''The New Jerusalem,'
And this thought has kindled the imagination |
of all the sacred poets, ] am glad that Hora.
ito BQnar, the Scotch hymnist, rummaged |
among old manuscripts of the British muse
UNI until he found that hymn in ancient
spelling, parts OF winch we have Ill nlutllated |
form in our modern hymn books, but the
quaint power of which we do not get in ouJ
modern versions.
Hierusalem, my happie home.
When shall come to theep
When shall my sorrOwes have an end,
Thy ioyes when shall see?
Noe dampish mist is scene in thee,
Noe cOlde nor darksome night;
There everie soule shines as the sunne,
There God himselfe gives light.
Thy walls are made of precious stones,
Thy bulwarks diamonds square;
Thy gates are of bright orient pearle,
Exceeding richie and rare.
Thy turrettes and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles doe shine;
The verrie streets are paved with go uld,
Surprising cleare and fine,
Thy houses are of yvorie,
Thy windows crystal cleare;
Thy tyles are made of beaten gould,
o God! that / were there,
Our sweete is MKT with bitter gaulc,
Our pleasure is but paine
Our joyes scarce last the lookeing on,
Our sorrows stie RENAME.
But there they live in such delight,
Such pleasure and such play,
As that to them a thousand yeares
Doth seem as yesterday.
Thy gardens and thy gallant wakes
Continually are greene:
There grow such sweete and pleasant flowers
AS no where else are seen.
There trees for evermore beare fruite