Favell Lee Mortimer reflects on the burst of joy heard on Mount Olivet as a faint picture of the raptures of heaven, where an innumerable multitude will praise God for His mightiest work. Despite overwhelming moments of reflection on God's deliverances and mercies, some saints on earth cannot help but exclaim the excellence of God's loving-kindness. While many in the crowd on Olivet later cried out 'Crucify him,' there were a few, like blind Bartimaeus, Lazarus, and Mary, who praised the Lord wholeheartedly, contrasting the Pharisees who refused to honor Jesus despite witnessing His miracles.

The burst of joy that was heard on Mount Olivet, affords a faint picture of the raptures of heaven. On Mount Olivet the whole multitude began to praise God with a loud voice, for all the mighty works that they had seen. In heaven an innumerable multitude shall praise Him with a louder voice, for a still mightier work than had ever been seen in Israel. But even a saint on earth sometimes feels overwhelmed when he reflects upon all the glorious deliverances and unmerited mercies he has received. There are moments, especially towards the close of his pilgrimage, when he sees at one glance the mysterious train of events by which his life has been marked, and when he cannot forbear exclaiming, in the words of David, "How excellent is your loving-kindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of your wings." There were few among that vast multitude on Olivet who had these warm feelings of grateful love; for the greater part, before the week expired, joined in the cry, "Crucify him, crucify him," But there were a few who praised the Lord with their whole hearts. Was there not among the crowd blind Bartimaeus, who had followed him on the way? Did not the beggar, born blind, go forth to meet him? He had been cast out of the synagogue for his sake, and when he had heard he was the Son of God, he had replied, "Lord, I believe." Was not that courageous and grateful man among those who most heartily praised his name? Was not Lazarus there, who had been raised from the dead? Was not Mary there, who, the evening before, had anointed her Lord with fragrant spikenard? Were not Salome and Joanna there, and Mary Magdalene, and all the faithful little band who had followed him out of Galilee? Was his blessed mother there? Did she behold Him whom, when a babe, she had laid in a manger, acknowledged as the King of Israel? These inquiries we cannot answer; we know the names of none who composed that joyful company, excepting those of the apostles. But this we know—there were some present who hated to hear the praises of the Son of God. These Pharisees said, "Master, rebuke your disciples." Had they heard the songs that once delighted the shepherds at Bethlehem, they would have desired to stop the angelic chorus. But the Savior would not check the overflowing feelings of the multitude, but replied, "I tell you that if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out." Were not the Pharisees more senseless than stones, for they had seen the most glorious miracles, and yet refused to honor Him who had wrought them? How unfit were they to enter heaven, where no tongue is mute in the Savior's praise! All are unfit for that blessed place who delight not in magnifying the Lord Jesus Christ. Are there not many who have experienced his goodness from their earliest infancy, and who yet praise him not, thank him not? Are there not many who have heard of his dying love, who "hold their peace" on this glorious subject, and neither thank him in public nor in private? Are there not lips that have never, with warmth and sincerity, blessed the holy name of Christ the Savior? Are any of us among the number of those silent, ungrateful, and guilty creatures, who never thank their Lord, their Redeemer? While angels rest not day nor night in worshiping the Lord, shall a sinner for whom Christ died, refuse to utter one note of heartfelt praise?