The Feast of Tabernacles neared, and the whole population of Judæa flocked, in exact accordance with the Law, to Jerusalem. Festivity reigned throughout the city—the land was at rest from foreign oppressors—the spirit of faction itself seemed stilled—from palace to hut all was solemn rejoicing, and light-hearted merriment. On the holy days of convocation, the immense areas and courts of the temple were thronged with the dense multitudes, eager to receive the high priest's triennial blessing. And there he stood, the youthful descendant of a thousand priests, and warriors, and kings, in the first bloom of graceful youth, clothed in the magnificent vestments of the solemn office, majestic in his bearing, so unusually tall, and finely proportioned, in his still boyish figure—his beautiful countenance, so radiant with the holy thoughts and feelings, which his task called forth, that as the multitudes gazed upon him standing at the high altar, gracefully and collectedly performing his priestly duties, themselves never witnessed (from their peculiar sanctity and holy associations) without emotion, enthusiasm, even at that holy moment, could not be restrained. Tears burst forth from young and old—the warrior, even as the woman, wept, thrilled to the very heart, at the beauty, innocence, and sanctity he beheld, though himself unconscious why he wept. Tears, blessings, prayers, swelling at length into shouts of joyous greeting, betrayed the zeal and love which burst irrepressibly from every heart.