MICHAEL ANGELO IN THE COLOSSEUM.
In extreme old age he was found by Cardinal Farnese
alone among the ruins of the Colosseum. Surprise being
expressed by the Cardinal, with an inquiry what brought
him there; he replied: "I am come here for the purpose of
study. I hope to be a scholar so long as God shall spare
my life."
Words to the Wise.
Carried into the church by his disciples he was wont to repeat, without change or variation, the command which he himself had received from the Master-" MY LITTLE CHILDREN, LOVE ONE ANOTHER."
Sketches of the Early Church.
At length, bidding his attendants support him in bed, he raised his hand and exclaimed: "I shall not die but live, again to proclaim the evil deeds of the Friars."
Stories from Church History.
C. H. Selous
The dying man replied, "Write quickly." Soon after
the scribe said, "The sentence is now written." His work
on earth was now done. He commanded them to place him
on the floor of his cell where he was used to pray; and
singing, "Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the
Holy Ghost," he calmly fell asleep.
THE DEATH of the Venerable Bede
Stories from Church History.
HE day arrives, the moment wished and feared;
The child is born, by many a pang endeared.
And now the mother's ear has caught his cry;
Oh grant the cherub to her asking eye!
He comes-she clasps him. To her bosom
He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest.
Her by her smile how soon the stranger
How soon by his the glad discovery shows!
As to her lips she lifts the lovely boy,
What answering looks of sympathy and joy!
He walks, he speaks. In many a broken word
His wants, his wishes, and his griefs are heard.
And ever, ever to her lap he flies,
When rosy Sleep comes on with sweet surprise.
Locked in her arms, his arms across her flung,
(That name most dear for ever on his tongue)
As with soft accents round her neck he clings,
And, cheek to cheek, her lulling song she sings,
How blest to feel the beatings of his heart,
Breathe his sweet breath, and kiss for kiss impart;
Watch o'er his slumbers like the brooding dove,
And, if she can, exhaust a mother's love!
But soon a nobler task demands her care, Apart she joins his little hands in prayer, Telling of Him who sees in secret there!—
And now the volume on her knee has caught
His wandering eye--now many a written thought
Never to die, with many a lisping sweet
His moving, murmuring lips endeavour to repeat.
Released, he chases the bright butterfly;
Oh he would follow-follow through the sky!
Climbs the gaunt mastiff slumbering in his chain,
And chides and buffets, clinging by the mane ;
Then runs, and, kneeling by the fountain side,
Sends his brave ship in triumph down the tide,
A dangerous voyage! or, if now he can,
If now he wears the habit of a man,
Flings off the coat so long his pride and pleasure,
And, like a miser digging for his treasure,
His tiny spade in his own garden plies,
'And in green letters sees his name arise!
Where'er he goes for ever in her sight,
She looks, and looks, and still with new delight!
Ah who, when fading of itself away,
Would cloud the sunshine of his little day!
Now is the May of Life! Careering round,
Joy wings his feet, Joy lifts him from the ground!
Pointing to such, well might Cornelia say,
When the rich casket shone in bright array,
"These are My Jewels!" Well of such as he,
When JESUS Spake, well might His language be,
"Suffer these little ones to come to me!"
CHEEKS as soft as July peaches,
Lips whose dewy scarlet teaches
Poppies paleness, round large eyes
Ever great with new surprise,
Minutes filled with shadeless gladness,
Minutes just as brimmed with sadness,
Happy smiles and wailing cries,
Crows and laughs and tearful eyes,
Lights and shadows swifter born
Than on wind-swept Autumn corn,
Ever some new tiny notion
Making every limb all motion,
Catchings up of legs and arms,
Throwings back and small alarms,
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