BURIAL ON MOUNT ZION. 331 



place, not far from the Greek and Latin cemeteries. In 

 the latter, close under the wall of the city, lies Cornelius 

 Bradford, whom many old New-Yorkers knew and loved. 

 I know not that any other American, except my old friend, 

 sleeps on Mount Zion ; but they have buried him in that 

 little English cemetery, which looks toward Bethlehem, 

 overhanging the dark valley of the sons of Hinnom and 

 the field of Aceldama. In that valley lie myriads on 

 myriads of the dead. The descendants of Abraham for 

 nearly four thousand years have been buried under the 

 shadow of Moriah and Zion. The followers of the camel 

 driver lie there in hosts, with faces turned to the grave of 

 their prophet. In the old tombs on the hill-side, the 

 countless dead of the crusades, with thousands of pilgrims 

 from Christian Europe, are heaped in ghastly piles of 

 crumbling skeletons. The followers of Alexander the 

 Great, the Roman legions of Titus, the Persians of Chos- 

 roes, the Moors of El-Hakim the mad Caliph, the Norse- 

 men of Sigurd the Viking Crusader, men of every land, 

 by millions, lie in that dark valley under the hill of David. 

 Somewhere there, the Psalmist king and warrior waits to 

 resume his crown and song. Somewhere there, perhaps 

 the sister of Lazarus rests from much care and trouble, 

 till the Master cometh again and calleth for her. Not 

 very far away, Godfrey, who refused to wear a crown of 

 gold where his Master had worn a crown of thorns, and 

 Baldwin the valiant, lie in rock-hewn tombs, guarding 

 the way to Calvary. 



"But when the Lord shall come ' in like manner' as he 

 ascended from the Mount of Olives, and the dead, small 

 and great, shall rise around Jerusalem, I doubt not that 

 among saints and princes and prophets and martyrs, the 

 calm face of the old American missionary will be serenely 



