A farmer out in the Eastern Transvaal fell down a well. His shouts brought his wife to the scene. She took one look and told him she would fetch a couple of workers to haul him out.
“Hold on,” he shouted. “What time is it?”
“Half past twelve.”
“Oh well. There’s only half an hour till their lunch break. I can manage to swim about till then.”
Speaking about the marvels of Creation and the proof they give, even by the light of natural reason, of the existence of God, Father remarked that each blade of grass is a sermon. Found mowing the lawn by one of the faithful the next day he was told, “That’s right, Father, keep the sermons short”.