Then there was silence, for Brother Francis stood before them, and the voice they loved so well, and had come so far to hear, began to read the old story of the birth of the Child Jesus, of the shepherds in the fields, and of the angels’ song.  When the reading was ended, Brother Francis talked to them as a father might speak to his children.  He told of the love that is gentle as a little child, that is willing to be poor and humble as the Baby who was laid in a manger among the cattle.  He begged his listeners to put anger and hatred and envy out of their hearts this Christmas Eve, and to think only thoughts of peace and good will.  All listened eagerly while Brother Francis spoke, but the moment he finished the great crowd broke into singing.  From the church tower the bells rang loud; the torches waved wildly, while voices here and there shouted for Brother Francis and for the Blessed Little Christ.  Never before had such glorious hymns nor such joyous shouting been heard in the town of Greccio.  Only the mothers, with babies in their arms, and the shepherds, in their woolly coats, looked on silently and thought:  “We are in Bethlehem.”

THE SIN OF THE PRINCE BISHOP

WILLIAM CANTON

The Prince Bishop Evrard stood gazing at his marvellous Cathedral; and as he let his eyes wander in delight over the three deep sculptured portals and the double gallery above them, and the great rose window, and the ringers’ gallery, and so up to the massive western towers, he felt as though his heart were clapping hands for joy within him.  And he thought to himself, “Surely in all the world God has no more beautiful house than this which I have built with such long labor and at so princely an outlay of my treasure.”  And thus the Prince Bishop fell into the sin of vainglory, and, though he was a holy man, he did not perceive that he had fallen, so filled with gladness was he at the sight of his completed work.

In the double gallery of the west front there were many great statues with crowns and sceptres, but a niche over the central portal was empty and this the Prince Bishop intended to fill with a statue of himself.  It was to be a very small simple statue, as became one who prized lowliness of heart, but as he looked up at the vacant place it gave him pleasure to think that hundreds of years after he was dead people would pause before his effigy and praise him and his work.  And this, too, was vainglory.

As the Prince Bishop lay asleep that night a mighty six-winged Angel stood beside him and bade him rise.  “Come,” he said, “and I will show thee some of those who have worked with thee in building the great church, and whose service in God’s eyes has been more worthy than thine.”  And the Angel led him past the Cathedral and down the steep street of the ancient city, and though it was midday, the people going to and fro did not seem to see them.  Beyond the gates they followed the shelving road till they came to green level fields, and there in the middle of the road, between grassy banks covered white with cherry blossom, two great white oxen, yoked to a huge block of stone, stood resting before they began the toilsome ascent.