CHAP. iv. THE THIRST OF GOD. 61 



associations. It was as old then, to the great Pilgrim 

 who had wandered to it from Judaea, as it is now to the 

 modern pilgrim who visits it from England. Ebal and 

 Gerizim, on whose twin peaks the altars of an alien 

 faith had smoked for ages, looked down upon it; and 

 around it the same corn-fields which had nourished the 

 ancient Shechemites, spread their golden aureole. The 

 shadows of eighteen centuries rested on it : and during 

 all that long period 3 from the time when the patriarch 

 Jacob dug and bequeathed it to his favourite son, its 

 pulse had continued to beat, and its living waters to 

 minister refreshment to the passing generations. 



What were the meditations of our Lord in this storied 

 spot, as He waited patiently for the return of His dis- 

 ciples, who had gone to buy food in the neighbouring 

 city, we cannot tell. But the necessities of the present 

 would overmaster the memories of the past. He was 

 not only worn out with fatigue, He was also faint with 

 thirst. The well of Sychar was not a spring or fountain, 

 whose sparkling waters wimpled up to the brim, and 

 overflowing with their own fulness, ran rejoicing over 

 the fields, diffusing life and gladness wherever they 

 11 owed. On the contrary it was a draw-well, more than 

 a hundred feet deep. Far down, through the filmy green 

 meshes of the maiden-hair fern that lined like lace-work 

 its damp, shady mouth, He could see the glimmering of 

 the cool, sweet water; and He longed for a draught. 

 But He had no rope or bucket with which to draw it 

 up ; and His thirst was intensified by the inaccessibility 

 of the water that seemed so near. He might indeed 



