In an Oxfordshire village an old saint lay dying. For over eighty years she had been on pilgrimage to Zion, until her face had grown bright with Heaven’s approaching glory. An Anglo-Catholic priest, under the misapprehension that none of his parishioners could find access to the City unless he unlocked the gate, called to visit her. "Madam," he said, "I have come to grant you absolution." And she, in her simplicity, not knowing what the word meant, inquired, "What is that?" "I have come to forgive your sins," was the reply. "May I look at your hand?" she answered. Gazing for a moment at the hand of the priest, she said, "Sir, you are an impostor." "Imposter!" the scandalized cleric protested. "Yes, sir, an impostor. The Man who forgives my sins has a nail print in His hand." (Mark 2:5-7; Matthew 26:28; I Corinthians 11:24)

R. M. Gautrey