The astonished disciples were silenced, but an unspoken question was in the minds of some of them.  Christ turned aside and ascended the mountain, taking with Him the chosen three, Peter, James and John.  On this occasion Andrew is added to the private company.  Once more we see by themselves the two pair of brothers with whom in their boyhood we became familiar in Bethsaida.  We are reminded of the days when they sat together on the sea-shore, the time when they were watching for the coming of the Messiah with whom they now “sat on the Mount of Olives over against the Temple.”  Two days before, in the road below He had also prophesied of the destruction of the city, as He gazed upon it through His tears.  Now He was on the summit, directly opposite the Temple, from which the city was spread out before Him.  To me it is still a delight in thought, as it was in reality, to stand where they sat, and look down upon the same Temple area, and think of the Holy and Beautiful House, as it appeared before the sad prophecy had been fulfilled.

On this spot the poet Milman makes Titus to stand just before the destruction of Jerusalem, with determination and yet with misgiving, looking down on the city in its pride and the Temple in its gorgeousness, and saying: 

                                 “Yon proud City! 
    As on our Olive-crowned hill we stand,
    Where Kidron at our feet its scanty waters
    Distills from stone to stone with gentle motion,
    As through a valley sacred to sweet Peace,
    How boldly doth it front us!  How majestically! 
    Like as a luxurious vineyard, the hillside
    Is hung with marble fabrics, line o’er line,
    Terrace o’er terrace, nearer still, and nearer
    To the blue Heavens.  Here bright and sumptuous palaces,
    With cool and verdant gardens interspersed;
    Here towers of war that frown in massy strength;
    While over all hangs the rich purple eve,
    As conscious of its being her last farewell
    Of light and glory to the fated city. 
    And as our clouds of battle, dust and smoke
    Are melted into air, behold the Temple
    In undisturbed and lone serenity,
    Finding itself a solemn sanctuary
    In the profound of Heaven!  It stands before us
    A mount of snow, fettered with golden pinnacles! 
    The very sun, as though he worshiped there,
    Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs;
    And down the long and branching porticoes,
    On every flowery, sculptured capital,
    Glitters the homage of His parting beams.
    ....  The sight might almost win
    The offended majesty of Rome to mercy.”