omfort, and instruction in righteousness. His Bethany
sayings are for all time--they have "gone through all the earth"--His
Bethany words "to the end of the world!" Like its own alabaster box of
precious ointment, "wheresoever the Gospel is preached," there will
these be held in grateful memorial.

The traveller in Palestine is to this day shewn, in a sort of secluded
ravine on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives (about fifteen
furlongs or two miles from Jerusalem), a cluster of poor cottages,
numbering little more than twenty families, with groups of palm-trees
surrounding them, interspersed here and there with the olive, the
almond, the pomegranate, and the fig.[2]

This ruined village bears the Arab name of El-Azirezeh--the Arabic form
of the name Lazarus--and at once identifies it with a spot so sacred and
interesting in Gospel story. It is described by the most recent and
discerning of Eastern writers as "a wild mountain hamlet, screened by an
intervening ridge from the view of the top of Olivet--perched on its
open plateau of rock--the last collection of human habitations before
the desert hills that reach to Jericho. ... High in the distance are the
Peraean mountains; the foreground is the deep descent of the mountain
valley."[3]

"The fields around," says another traveller, "lie uncultivated, and
covered with rank grass and wild flowers; but it is easy to imagine the
deep and still beauty of this spot when it was the home of Lazarus and
his sisters, Martha and Mary. Defended on the north and west by the
Mount of Olives, it enjoys a delightful exposure to the southern sun.
The grounds around are obviously of great fertility, though quite
neglected; and the prospect to the south-east commands a magnificent
view of the Dead Sea and the plains of Jordan."[4]

"On the horizon's verge,
The last faint tracing on the blue expanse,
Rise Moab's summits; and above the rest
One pinnacle, where, placed by Hand Divine,
Israel's great leader stood, allow'd to view,
And but to view, that long-expected land
He may not now enjoy. Below, dim gleams
The sea, untenanted by ought that lives,
And Jordan's waters thread the plain unseen.

* * * * *

Here, hid among her trees, a village clings--
Roof above roof uprising. White the walls,
And whiter still by contrast; and those roofs,
Broad sunny platforms, strew'd with ripeni