How lovely are thy tabernacles, Lord of hosts! My soul longeth and fainteth for the courts of the Lord, My heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. As the bird that findeth her house, As the swallow, a nest for her young, So I thine altars, O Lord of hosts, My king and my God! Blessed are they that dwell in thy house; They are still praising Thee; Blessed is the man who placeth his confidence in Thee And thinketh of the way to Jerusalem! Should they pass through the valley of sorrow They find it full of springs. Blessings be on him who goeth before them, They increase in strength as they go on, Till they appear before God in Zion. O Lord of hosts, hear my prayer! Give ear, O God of Jacob! O God, our shield, look down, Behold the face of thine anointed! A day in thy courts is better than a thousand. I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of God Than dwell in the tents of wickedness. For Jehovah our God is a sun and shield; Jehovah giveth grace and glory, No good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly. O Lord of hosts, Blessed is the man that trusteth in Thee!—Ps. lxxxiv. They were now arrived at the pools of Solomon, into which the brook Etham was received, and which had formerly supplied Jerusalem with water, by means of a costly aqueduct. The three pools lay on different levels, one below another, on a sloping ground. Around each was a double row of noble palms, in which the whole of this spot abounded. Here, beside the springs and in the refreshing shade of the trees, the pilgrims encamped to rest at noon. They had accomplished twenty-six sabbath-days’ journies of their march and ten yet remained.