hose who long wandered before they sought that
sheltering spot. They who are on the watch, who see the cloud as big as
a man's hand, are the largest recipients of the blessing when the Spirit
is poured out from on high. The lingerers, who think they need not
bestir themselves, for the blessing is sure, may nevertheless fail, for
though there was a sound of rain, the clouds may scatter, when but a few
drops have fallen, and the _first_ be the only ones who are refreshed.

But we are wandering. In this porch lies one who scarce bears any
resemblance to living humanity, and from his woe-worn countenance has
departed the last glimmering of hope. "Thirty and eight years" a
helpless being! a burden to himself and all around him! Alas, of what
untold miseries has sin made human flesh the inheritor! He came long
since to this healing pool, with cheerful anticipations, perhaps
undoubting faith, that he should soon walk forth a man among men. But he
has been grievously disappointed. He seems friendless as well as
impotent. Listen while he answers the inquiry of one who speaks kindly
to him: "Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into
the pool; but while I am coming another steppeth down before me." This
is indeed hopeless wretchedness. But who is it thus asking, "Wilt thou
be made whole?" Little didst thou dream, unfortunate, yet most
fortunate, of sufferers, who it was thus bending tenderly over thy
painful couch! Said we that thou wert friendless; that none knew thy
woes? Blessed be God, there is ever One eye to see, One ear to hear, One
heart to pity.

"When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou knewest my path."
"He is not far from every one of us." But, though He is ever near, yet
God often waits long before he relieves. Why is it thus? We do not
always see the reason, but we may be sure it is infinite wisdom that
defers. He would have us feel our dependence on Him, and when we do feel
this, when we hope no more from any earthly source, and turn a
despairing eye to Him, then he is ever ready to rescue. Even toward
those who have long withstood his grace, and rebelled against his love,
is he moved to kindness "when He seeth that their power is gone." "We
must sometimes have the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should
not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead."

Even where we would accomplish most, when we would fain secure the
salvation of those dearest to us, when we woul