anything whatever."

"Then, father, God never stops shining upon us. He wouldn't be like
the sun if he did. For even in winter the sun shines enough to keep us
alive."

"True, my boy. I am very glad you understand me. In all my experience
I have never yet known a man in whose heart I could not find proofs of
the shining of the great Sun. It might be a very feeble wintry shine,
but still he was there. For a human heart though, it is very dreadful
to have a cold, white winter like this inside it, instead of a summer
of colour and warmth and light. There's the poor old man we are going
to see. They talk of the winter of age: that's all very well, but the
heart is not made for winter. A man may have the snow on his roof, and
merry children about his hearth; he may have grey hairs on his head,
and the very gladness of summer in his bosom. But this old man, I am
afraid, feels wintry cold within."

"Then why doesn't the Father of Lights shine more on him and make him
warmer?"

"The sun is shining as much on the earth in the winter as in the
summer: why is the earth no warmer?"

"Because," I answered, calling up what little astronomy I knew, "that
part of it is turned away from the sun."

"Just so. Then if a man turns himself away from the Father of
Lights--the great Sun--how can he be warmed?"

"But the earth can't help it, father."

"But the man can, Ranald. He feels the cold, and he knows he can turn
to the light. Even this poor old man knows it now. God is shining on
him--a wintry way--or he would not feel the cold at all; he would be
only a lump of ice, a part of the very winter itself. The good of what
warmth God gives him is, that he feels cold. If he were all cold, he
couldn't feel cold."

"Does he want to turn to the Sun, then, father?"

"I do not know. I only know that he is miserable because he has not
turned to the Sun."

"What will you say to him, father?"

"I cannot tell, my boy. It depends on what I find him thinking. Of all
things, my boy, keep your face to the Sun. You can't shine of
yourself, you can't be good of yourself, but God has made you able to
turn to the Sun whence all goodness and all shining comes. God's
children may be very naughty, but they must be able to turn towards
him. The Father of Lights is the Father of every weakest little baby
of a good thought in us, as well as of the highest devotion of
martyrdom. If you turn your face to the Sun, my boy, your soul will,
when you come