He sleeps, but He never oversleeps; and there are no “too lates” with Him.—Alexander Maclaren. Be still, sad soul! lift thou no passionate cry, But spread the desert of thy being bare To the full searching of the All-seeing eye; Wait! and through dark misgiving, black despair, God will come down in pity, and fill the dry Dead place with light, and life, and vernal air. —J. C. Shairp. _________ “It came to pass after a while, that the brook dried up, because there had been no rain in the land.”