“O sailors with me on the ocean of life, will you, knowing that he is watching you from his mountain-top, do and say the things that hurt, and wrong, and disappoint him? Sailors on the waters that surround this globe, though there be no great mountain that overlooks the little lake on which you float, not the less does he behold you, and care for you, and watch over you. Will you do that which is unpleasing, distressful to him? Will you be irreverent, cruel, coarse? Will you say evil things, lie, and delight in vile stories and reports, with his eye on you, watching your ship on its watery ways, ever ready to come over the waves to help you? It is a fine thing, sailors, to fear nothing; but it would be far finer to fear nothing _because_ he is above all, and over all, and in you all. For his sake and for his love, give up everything bad, and take him for your captain. He will be both captain and pilot to you, and steer you safe into the port of glory. Now to God the Father,” &c. This is very nearly the sermon I preached that first Sunday morning. I followed it up with a short enforcement in the afternoon. END OF VOL. I. THE SEABOARD PARISH BY GEORGE MAC DONALD, LL.D. VOLUME II. CONTENTS OF VOL. II. I. ANOTHER SUNDAY EVENING II. NICEBOOTS III. THE BLACKSMITH IV. THE LIFE-BOAT V. MR. PERCIVALE VI. THE SHADOW OF DEATH VII. AT THE FARM VIII. THE KEEVE IX. THE WALK TO CHURCH X. THE OLD CASTLE XI. JOE AND HIS TROUBLE XII. A SMALL ADVENTURE XIII. THE HARVEST CHAPTER I. ANOTHER SUNDAY EVENING. In the evening we met in Connie’s room, as usual, to have our talk. And this is what came out of it. The window was open. The sun was in the west. We sat a little aside out of the course of his radiance, and let him look full into the room. Only Wynnie sat back in a dark corner, as if she would get out of his way. Below him the sea lay bluer than you could believe even when you saw it--blue with a delicate yet deep silky blue, the exquisiteness of which was thrown up by the brilliant white lines of its lapping on the high coast, to the northward. We had just sat down, when Dora broke out with-- “I saw Niceboots at church. He did stare at you, papa, as if he had never heard a sermon before.” “I daresay he never heard such a sermon before!” said Connie, with the perfect confidence of inexperience and partiality--not to say ignorance, seeing she had not heard the sermon herself. Here Wynnie spoke from her dark corner, apparently forcing herself to speak, and thereby giving what seemed an unpleasant tone to what she said. “Well, papa, I don’t know what to think. You are always telling us to trust in Him; but how can we, if we are not good?” “The first good thing you can do is to look up to him. That is the beginning of trust in him, and the most sensible thing that it is possible for us to do. That is faith.” “But it’s no use sometimes.” “How do you know that?”