“Now tell me, Davie, what is the biggest faith of all—the faith to put in the one only altogether good person.”
“You mean God, Mr. Grant?”
“Whom else could I mean?”
“You might mean Jesus.”
“They are one; they mean always the same thing, do always the same thing, always agree. There is only one thing they don’t do the same in—they do not love the same person.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Grant?” interrupted Arctura.
She had been listening intently: was the cloven foot of Mr. Grant’s heresy now at last about to appear plainly?
“I mean this,” answered Donal, with a smile that seemed to Arctura such a light as she had never seen on human face, “—that God loves Jesus, not God; and Jesus loves God, not Jesus. We love one another, not ourselves—don’t we, Davie?”
“You do, Mr. Grant,” answered Davie modestly.
“Now tell me, Davie, what is the great big faith of all—that which we have to put in the Father of us, who is as good not only as thought can think, but as good as heart can wish—infinitely better than anybody but Jesus Christ can think—what is the faith to put in him?”