_The rivers of God are full of water: They are wonderful in the renewal of their strength: He poureth them out from a hidden fountain._ _They are born among the hills in the high places: Their cradle is in the bosom of the rocks: The mountain is their mother and the forest is their father._ _They are nourished among the long grasses: They receive the tribute of a thousand springs: The rain and the snow are a heritage for them._ _They are glad to be gone from their birthplace: With a joyful noise they hasten away: They are going forever and never departed._ _The courses of the rivers are all appointed: They roar loudly but they follow the road: The finger of God hath marked their pathway._ _The rivers of Damascus rejoice among their gardens: The great river of Egypt is proud of his ships: The Jordan is lost in the Lake of Bitterness._ _Surely the Lord guideth them every one in his wisdom: In the end he gathereth all their drops on high: He sendeth them forth again in the clouds of mercy._ _O my God, my life runneth away like a river: Guide me, I beseech thee, in a pathway of good: Let me flow in blessing to my rest in thee._ VIII A JOURNEY TO JERASH I THROUGH THE LAND OF GILEAD I never heard of Jerash until my friend the Archaeologist told me about it, one night when we were sitting beside my study fire at Avalon. "It is the site of the old city of Gerasa," said he. "The most satisfactory ruins that I have ever seen." There was something suggestive and potent in that phrase, "satisfactory ruins." For what is it that weaves the charm of ruins? What do we ask of them to make their magic complete and satisfying? There must be an element of picturesqueness, certainly, to take the eye with pleasure in the contrast between the frailty of man's works and the imperishable loveliness of nature. There must also be an element of age; for new ruins are painful, disquieting, intolerable; they speak of violence and disorder; it is not until the bloom of antiquity gathers upon them that the relics of vast and splendid edifices attract us and subdue us with a spell, breathing tranquillity and noble thoughts. There must also be an element of magnificence in decay, of symmetry broken but not destroyed, a touch of delicate art and workmanship, to quicken the imagination and evoke the ghost of beauty haunting her ancient habitations. And beyond these things I think there must be two more qualities in a ruin that satisfies us: a clear connection with the greatness and glory of the past, with some fine human achievement, with some heroism of men dead and gone; and last of all, a spirit of mystery, the secret of some unexplained catastrophe, the lost link of a story never to be fully told.