“Thus Jeshurun, the once beloved people of Jehovah, the once glorious daughter of Zion, lay in desolation and misery. The glory of Solomon was scarcely discernible in its ruins; the blessing of David had vanished from his throne, and even that which Joshua and the Judges had earned with toil and blood was lost. David, Solomon, Asa, Jehoshaphat, Hezekiah, and Josiah, had called upon them to fear Jehovah, but the superstitions of the neighbouring nations had more powerful attractions, and the law was too heavy a yoke for their untamed necks. Hence this awful punishment and unheard of retribution. Prophets were not wanting, to point out and enforce the lesson. Hear how our Jeremiah pours forth his heart-rending sorrows: How doth the city sit solitary that was full of people! How is she become as a widow—once great among the nations! The queen of the lands, how is she become a slave! She weepeth sore in the night, and her tears are on her cheeks. Of all that loved her she hath none to comfort her, All her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they are become her enemies. She dwelleth among the heathens, she findeth no rest, All her persecutors overtake her at the borders. The ways of Zion mourn because no man comes to the solemn feasts; All her gates are desolate, her priests sigh, Her virgins are afflicted and are in bitterness. Her adversaries are victorious, her enemies prosper; For the Lord hath afflicted her for the multitude of her transgressions. Her children are gone into captivity before the enemy; From the daughter of Zion all her beauty is departed. Her princes are become like deer, that find no pasture; They fall without strength before the pursuer. Jerusalem calls to mind in her misery the pleasures of the days of old. Now she falleth into the hand of the enemy, and none help her; Her adversaries see her and mock, because she must keep her sabbaths. —She seeth that the heathens enter into her sanctuary, Whom thou didst command that they should not enter into thy congregation. —See if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, With which the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of his anger.” “Admirable!” exclaimed Myron, unable to resist the beauty of this Lamentation. Elisama continued: “It is the finest of all the songs of our prophets, and its echo still lives in the hearts of the children of Israel. This melancholy tone never ceases to predominate in their minds, no, not even in the days of Hyrcanus. What must the prophet have felt when he wrote, All that pass by clap their hands at thee, They hiss and shake the head at the daughter of Jerusalem; Is this the city which men call the Perfection of Beauty, the joy of the whole earth? “He had foreseen it all—he had taught them how the calamity might be avoided, but they would not listen to his voice; they had persecuted him, and despised the prophetic word. Now he had to endure the sight of that which he had endeavoured to avert.