Sea and the light reaches the fair-haired Angles of Britain, on whose
name Augustine had exercised his punning humour, when he said, "Not
Angles, but Angels." From North and South, through Columba and Aidan,
Wilfred of Sussex and Bertha of Kent, the light came to Britain.

"Is not our life," said the aged seer to the Mercian heathen king as
the Missionary waited for permission to lead them to Christ, "like a
sparrow that flies from the darkness through the open window into this
hall and flutters about in the torchlight for a few moments to fly out
again into the darkness of the night. Even so we know not whence our
life comes nor whither it goes. This man can tell us. Shall we not
receive his teaching?" So the English, through these torch-bearers,
come into the light.

The centuries pass by and in 1620 the little _Mayflower_, bearing
Christian descendants of those heathen Angles--new torch-bearers,
struggles through frightful tempests to plant on the American
Continent the New England that was indeed to become the forerunner of
a New World.[1]

A century and a half passes and down the estuary of the Thames creeps
another sailing ship.

The Government officer shouts his challenge:

"What ship is that and what is her cargo?"

"The _Duff_," rings back the answer, "under Captain Wilson, bearing
Missionaries to the South Sea."