never looks young;
from the earliest time it always has a twisted cross appearance like an
old man who knows what rheumatism is. The blue-green leaves are small
and narrow, and they turn edgewise to the sun as if they were reluctant
to give anyone beneath them any more shade than they could help. There
is one line of a hymn that always comes into my mind when I look at an
olive tree, it runs--

"Beneath the olive's moon-pierced shade."

That is very good, because the brilliant clear white light of an Eastern
moon would certainly pierce through any "shade" an olive tree could
make.

Many, many times must Jesus have crossed this hill, and the most
memorable time was when the people came running beside Him, singing
Hosannas and cutting down palm branches, and even spreading their
clothes for Him to pass over, on that first Palm Sunday so long ago. The
association, which is the most sacred and heart-stirring, is of that
night before the crucifixion, when He came out here with His disciples
and, kneeling, prayed earnestly while they slept. That was in what is
called the Garden of Gethsemane. There is more than one place on the
Mount which claims to be that garden. The monks have fenced one in and
planted it with gay flowers, and there is a good deal of reason to
believe this may be actually right. In the country, places cannot be
utterly swept away as they are in towns under an avalanche of brick and
stone. We can look down from the hill into this garden, even though it
is surrounded by high walls. In the middle is a very ancient olive tree,
said to have been growing in Christ's time. Rosaries are made from the
stones of the olives which it bears. There are little round flower-beds
carefully tended in the garden, and between them you can see a monk
walking in his long coarse gown.

The hill is not very high, and the country is barren and stony and would
be rather dull were it not for the thought of all the wonderful scenes
that have happened here. Let us climb on to the very top. From there,
away to the east, we see a long line of high blue hills, the mountains
of Moab, and nearer, in a deep hole in the ground, we catch just a
glimpse of the water of the Dead Sea. It is a strange name and a strange
place! It lies deep, deep down, far below the level of the ocean, and
though many rivers and streams run into it none run out. You would think
it must always be getting larger, but no. The water evaporates very
quickly.