Chapel / Church

Imagine the stillness: it’s midwinter, the sun low and half buried in gray cloud. Standing on the brow of a deserted snow-covered hill, a cold wind sighing through bare trees, looking down on the final rest of a man who lived more than a hundred years before I was born. A moment to contemplate mortality. In this place, the one I have in mind is a stone engraved thus: “for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.”