Donal Grant

d look about him for a place of repose. But there

darkness! Was it not in this very chamber that Jacob had his vision of the mighty stair leading up to the gate of heaven! Was it not under such a roof Jesus spent his last nights on the earth! For comfort and protection he sought no human shelter, but went out into his Father's house-out under his Father's heaven! Th

t thicker growth of heather, its tops almost close as those of his bed at his father's cottage, he sought no further. Taking his knife, he cut a quantity of heather and ferns, and heaped it on the top o

uff of thought unshaped, and every breath he drew seemed like God breathing afresh into his nostrils the breath of life. Who knows what the thing we call air is? We know about it, but it we do not know. The sun shone as if smiling at the self-importance of the sulky darkness he had driven away, and the wor

smoke: there too the day was begun! He was glad he had not seen it before, for then he might have missed the repose of the open night. At the door st

ee his face. He seemed waiting, like his father for the Book, while his mother got it from t

aein' to ha

rd stare at his visitor; "we dinna set up for prayin' fowk i' this h

' to say gude mornin' to yer makker, an' wad hae likit to j'in wi

tak yer parritc

he parritch, an' no for the prayers. I like as

orship wi' 's, gien ye

e to follow. Na; I'll du b

hand, and silently laid it on the table. Donal had never yet prayed aloud except in a murmur by himself on the hill, bu

'. Ye observt hoo it began like a stormy mornin', but ye h'ard hoo it changed or a' was dune. The sun comes oot bonny i' the en', an' ye hear the birds beginnin' to sing, tellin' Natur' to gie ower her greitin'. An' what brings the guid man til's senses, div ye think? What but jist th

on their knees,

e dawn o' a spiritual day inside 's, or the bonny day ootside winna gang for muckle. Lord, oor micht, speyk a word o' peacefu' recall to ony dog o' thine 'at may be worryin' at the hert o' ony sheep o' thine

with the water for the porridge. But Donal rose, and walked out of the cottage, half wondering at h

lord o' the day an' the hoor an' the minute, 's '

ne of the far ocean