“Ay, but hoo?” said Bow-o’-meal, ready to swoop upon the master’s reply.
“Just as Jesus Christ did—by doing his will—by obedience.”
“That’s no faith—it’s works! Ye’ll never save yer sowl that gait.”
“No man can ever save his soul. God only can do that. You can glorify him by giving yourself up heart and soul and body and life to his Son. Then you shall be saved. That you must leave to him, and do what he tells you. There will be no fear of the saving then —though it’s not an easy matter—even for him, as has been sorely proved.”
“An’ hoo are we to gie oorsels up till him?—for ye see we’re practical kin’ o’ fowk, huz fisher-fowk, Maister Graham,” said Bow-o’-meal.
The tone implied that the schoolmaster was not practical.
“I say again—In doing his will and not your own.”
“An’ what may his wull be?”
“Is he not telling you himself at this moment? Do you not know what his will is? How should I come between him and you! For anything I know, it may be that you pay your next door neighbour a crown you owe him, or make an apology to the one on the other side. I do not know: you do.”
“Dinna ye think aboot savin’ yer ain sowl noo, Maister Graham?” said Bow-o’-meal, returning on their track.