One of them, in passing, gave him a smile, and said good-naturedly: 'Thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands; happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee.' Weary, but with the sense of healthful fatigue, Basil rested for an hour on his bed.

He then took the Psalter and opened it at hazard, and the first words his eyes fell upon were: 'Thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands; happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee.' 'A happy omen,' he thought.

But stay; what was this that followed?
'Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house; thy children like olive plants round about thy table.
'Behold, thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.' The blood rushed into his cheeks.

He sat staring at the open page as though in astonishment.

He read and re-read the short psalm of which these verses were part, and if a voice had spoken it to him from above he could scarce have felt more moved by the message.