It grew even stronger, and in exile it became a passion.

It is illustrated by the songs of deep regret and affection Columba made in Iona, from whose rocky shores he looked day after day towards the west while the mists rose over Ireland.

One little story of great beauty enshrines his passion.

One morning he called to his side one of his monks, and said, "Go to the margin of the sea on the western side of our isle; and there, coming from the north of Ireland, you will see a voyaging crane, very weary and beaten by the storms, and it will fall at your feet on the beach.

Lift it up with pity and carry it to the hut, nourish it for three days, and when it is refreshed and strong again it will care no more to stay with us in exile, but to fly back to sweet Ireland, the dear country where it was born.