Riding Into Jerusalem
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Must I let thee go to fill up the cup of thine iniquity! One soul is of
such value that, in comparison with it, worlds sink into insignificance;
but here was a whole nation to be lost. When the fast westering sun
should pass from sight in the heavens, Jerusalem’s day of grace would
be at an end. While that vast procession was halting on the brow of
Olivet, it was yet not too late for Jerusalem to repent and be saved.
The Angel of Mercy was then folding her wings to step down from the
golden throne and give place to Justice and swift-coming judgment.
But Christ’s great heart of love still pleads for Jerusalem, which had
scorned all his mercies, despised his warnings, and was about to finish
her iniquitous work by imbruing her hands in his blood. If Jerusalem
would but repent, it is not yet too late. While the last rays of the setting
sun are lingering on temple, tower, and flashing minaret, will not some
good angel lead her to the Saviour’s love, and avert the fearful doom
that awaits her! Beautiful and unholy city, that had stoned the prophets,
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that had rejected the Son of God, that was locking herself, by her
impenitence, in fetters of bondage,—thy day of mercy is almost spent!
Here had lived a favored people; God made their temple his habi-
tation; it was “beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth.” The
record of more than a thousand years of Christ’s guardian care and
tender love, such as a father bears his only child, was there. In that
temple had the prophets uttered their solemn warnings. There had the
burning censers waved, while incense, mingled with the prayers of
the worshipers, had ascended to God. There the blood of beasts had
flowed, typical of the blood of Christ. There Jehovah had manifested
his glory above the mercy-seat. There the priests had officiated in
flowing robes and jeweled breast-plates, and the pomp of symbol and
ceremony had gone on for ages. But all this must have an end; for
Jerusalem has sealed her own doom, and her destruction is at hand.
Contemplating the fate of the city he had loved, the soul of Jesus
yearned over the child of his care. Unrequited love broke the heart of
the Son of God. Little did the multitude know of the grief that weighed
upon the spirit of Him whom they worshiped. They saw his tears and
heard his groans, and for a brief space a mysterious awe interrupted
their joyful demonstrations; but they could not understand the meaning
of his lamentation over Jerusalem. Meanwhile, reports were brought
to the rulers that Jesus was approaching the city attended by a great
concourse of people. In trepidation they go out to meet him, hoping to
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