The Mosque of Omar is surrounded by a wall, some thirty feet high, which cuts off thirty-five acres, or one-fifth of the city. One part of this wall has been identified, with more or less certainty, as a portion of Solomon’s Temple—the only remaining portion. It is believed that this is the nearest approach to what was once the Holy of Holies. Every Friday afternoon, at three o’clock, the devout Jews of the city, old and young, of high and low degree, assemble around these sacred stones for worship. Here they chant the Psalms of David, and read aloud from their prayer books and Hebrew Bibles. They kiss, and press themselves against, these stones for hours. They weep and lament and pray and cry aloud, as if their hearts would break. Hundreds of these unfortunate children of Abraham assemble at the “wailing-place.” When each one has kissed the stones for probably a hundred times or more, they all seat themselves flat down on the stones in the dirt and filth. Here they are, all seated in rows on the ground, facing the wall, row behind row, until the last row is forty or fifty feet from the wall. In the crowd I see a mother and babe who remind me of Hannah and Samuel. There, to the right, is a tall, stoop-shouldered, old man, with grey hair and a wrinkled brow. His long, white beard hangs gracefully over his breast, and falls in his lap, as he sits with uncovered head and bowed. That, methinks, is a perfect picture of Abraham as he sat weeping o’er Sarah’s grave. Here I can pick out a Paul, yonder a John, an Andrew, and a Peter. Ah! these are the remnants of a race that have left their imprint upon every page of human history. They sit and pray and weep, and will not be comforted. Close to the wall stand six Rabbis eight or ten feet apart. With their palms upon the wall, they repeatedly bend their elbows and kiss the stones. And then, in a voice as sad as sadness’s very self, they in concert cry out: “O Lord God Almighty, thou has smitten us and scattered us abroad among the heathen nations of earth; yet, O God, will we praise and adore thee.” The people, seated on the ground, sway to and fro and cry out: “A-m-e-n, a-m-e-n.” The Rabbis, still standing, kiss the wall and exclaim: “Oh! for the Temple that is no more——” Swaying to and fro, the people say: “We sit in solitude and mourn.” Rabbis. “Oh! for the Palace that is torn down——” People. “We sit in solitude and mourn.” Rabbis. “Oh! for the walls that are demolished——” People. “We sit in solitude and mourn.” Rabbis. “Oh! for the great stones that are burned into dust——” People. “We sit in solitude and mourn.” Rabbis. “Oh! for our kings and mighty men that have fallen——” People. “We sit in solitude and mourn.” Rabbis. “Oh! for the glory that has departed; oh! for the delay of thy coming——” People. “We sit in solitude and mourn.”