[first lines] Title card: On a September evening in 1938, Father Francis Chisholm returned to his little church near Tweedside, Scotland.
Father Francis Chisholm: Good afternoon, Monsignor. Monsignor: Good afternoon, Father. [last lines] Father Francis Chisholm: Well, man, don't stand there with half the morning gone - get the rods! [Andrew fetches the fishing poles] Father Francis Chisholm: Come along, boy. Wasn't it just fine of God to make all the rivers and fill them all with little fishes and then send you and me here to catch them, Andrew? Hm? Father Francis Chisholm: Dear Lord, let me have patience and forbearance where now I have anger. Give me humility, Lord; after all, it was only thy merciful goodness and thy divine providence that saved the boy... but they *are* ungrateful and You know it! Joseph: [irritated by Msgr. Mealey's racist remarks] Father, may I say something sinful? Father Francis Chisholm: Of course not. Joseph: You will hear it in confession anyway, because I'm thinking it.