14. The Death Of Colmcille

Early one summer morning Colmcille let his bare stone cell and went to visit the fields and barns of the monastry of Iona. By his side walked his faithful friend, the young monk Diarmaid. The old abbot's pace was heavy and slow, for he was weary and weak with age. This visit, he knew, would be his last, for an angel had told him that his death was near.

Colmcille blessed the barns and gave thanks to God for the good harvest which would supply his monks with food during the year ahead. Learning on Diarmaid's arm, he slowly climbed a little hill and looked for the last time on the sea, over which he had so often sailed. He blessed his little island then, and everything upon it.

On the way back to the monastry he sat down by the wayside to rest for a little while. From a nearby field an old white horse trotted out to greet him. Colmcille smiled happily as he saw it draw near, for, of all the animals on the monastry farm, this was his favourite. For years it had worked there, carrying the milk each morning and evening to the monastry. It came up to Colmcille and began to whinny pitifully, as if to say goodbye. Diarmaid was about to drive it away, but Colmcille would not allow him. He spoke softly to it and gently stroked its shaggy head. With its sad eyes full of tears the faithful old horse remained there until at last Colmcille arose and gave it a last blessing.

The saint then returned to his little stone cell in the monastry. There, for the last time, he sat down to continue his work of copying the Psalms. He wrote slowly and carefully until he came to the words, " They that seek the Lord shall not want for anything that is good. "

" I must stop here, " he said. " Let the next abbot of Iona write the rest. "

Then he rested for a while on the large flat rock which served as his bed. Diarmaid came to keep him company and the two friends talked together into the night. The monastry bell rang, calling the monks to midnight prayers. Colmcille arose and quickly went to church where he knelt down before the altar. Diarmaid followed him there throught he darkness, calling out, " Where are you, Father ? " But he heard no answer and could not see his beloved abbot. At last he found him lying before that altar and tenderly laid the dying saint's head on his breast.

When the other monks came in with lights they wept at the sight of their dying abbot. They say Diarmaid helping him to raise his hand to give them his last blessing. Then he died, and his face was calm and swet like that of a man who had seen a vision of heaven.