ouble.

"She is indeed grievously afflicted," observed the letter-writer,
shaking his gray head and uttering a sigh. "And my friend here, whom I
come to lift into the pool, has lain helpless upon his bed for eight and
twenty years. O that the Messiah would come! 'Then the eyes of the blind
shall be opened and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall
the lame man leap as a hart and the tongue of the dumb shall sing.'"

"Think you the Messiah will come shortly?" inquired Samuel.

This was a burning question of the day. The desire for the coming of the
Kingdom of God was a flame that was consuming the Jewish nation.

The letter-writer tapped his forehead thoughtfully with a brown
forefinger.

"Thou knowest the saying of the Pharisees, that if all Israel could keep
the Law perfectly for a single day, Messiah would come. As for me, I
long with a mighty longing to see Israel restored, to be delivered from
our enemies, and to have our sins forgiven."

Naomi stirred restlessly. What did all this talk of a Messiah mean to
her? Well enough for the grown folk to look forward to the coming of a
Saviour. As for her, all she asked of all the world was that the Angel
of the Bethesda Pool might come with healing in his wings and lay his
cool fingers upon her closed eyes and open them again.

"Perhaps I shall see Mother's face to-night," she thought. "And Ezra
will be at the village gate waiting for me. He promised. And I am to
wave my girdle at the first turn in the road if my eyes are opened. O
Angel of the Pool, remember me, Naomi! Remember me here in the dark!"

Naomi's father, who had never taken his eyes from the pool, leaned
forward.

"It moves, Naomi," he whispered. "The Angel comes, although we see him
not. Be ready, for I must act quickly."

The surface of the pool began to heave and swell, and at the precise
moment that the water boiled up, Samuel bent over with Naomi in his arms
and dipped her head under the water once, twice, three times!

Dripping, sputtering, and crying, Naomi was placed upon her feet, while
her father endeavored to wipe away the water that ran down into her neck
and stained her little robe.

"Dost thou see, Naomi?" asked Samuel with a tremble in his voice. "Open
thine eyes and look! Dost thou see, my little pomegranate?"

If the Angel of the Pool failed them, where should he turn for help?

Naomi obediently opened her brown eyes and stared, sightless as ever,
into her father's