for many years without help, until all who lived in that part of England
learned to be Christians.
And Pope Gregory hearing of his labours was pleased with the work his
missionary had done, and thought it fit that the humble monk should
be rewarded with a post of honour. So he made Augustine Archbishop of
Canterbury, the first archbishop that England had known. It was a simple
ceremony then, with only the few faithful monks kneeling around the
chair on which the archbishop was enthroned, but Augustine's keen, dark
face shone with the light of victory and humble thankfulness, for it
seemed a seal upon his work, a pledge that the island should never again
turn back from the faith of Christ.
And could those dark eyes have looked forward and pierced the screen of
many years, Augustine would have seen a goodly succession of archbishops
following in his footsteps, each in his turn sitting in that same simple
old chair, placed now in Westminster Abbey and guarded as one of
England's treasures.
And he would have seen, too, what would have cheered his heart more than
all--a Christian England venerating the spot where his monastery once
stood, and building upon it a college to his memory. And there he would
have seen England's sons trained to become missionaries and to go out
into all the world to preach the gospel, just as that little band of
monks, with Augustine at their head, came to our island in those dark,
far-off days.
But though Augustine could not know all this, his heart was filled with
a great hope and a great love for the islanders who now seemed like his
own children, and he was more than content to spend his life amongst
them.
And when his work was ended, and the faithful soul gave up his charge,
they buried him in the island which had once seemed to him a land of
exile, but which at last had come to mean even more to him than his
own sunny land of Italy.
SAINT CECILIA
It was in the days when cruel men killed and tortured those who loved
our Blessed Lord that, in the city of Rome, a little maid was born.
Her father and mother were amongst the richest and noblest of the
Roman people, and their little daughter, whom they called Cecilia, had
everything she could possibly want. She lived in a splendid palace, with
everything most beautiful around her, and she had a garden to play in,
where the loveliest flowers grew. Her little white dress was embroidered
with the finest gold, and her face was as fair as the flowers she loved.
But it was not only the outside that was beautiful, for the little
maiden's heart was fairer than the fairest flowers, and whiter than her
spotless robe.
There were not many people who loved our Lord in those dark days.
Any one who was known to be a Christian was made to suffer terrible
tortures, and was even put to death.
But though Cecilia's father and mother knew this they still taught their
little daughter to be a servant of Christ and to love Him above all
things. For they knew that the love of Christ was better than life, and
worth all the suffering that might come.
And as Cecilia grew into a stately maiden every one wondered at the grace
and beauty that shone out of her face. And every one loved her because
she loved every one. She was always ready and willing to help others,
and she specially cared to be kind to the poor. In the folds of her gold
embroidered dress she always carried a little book which she loved to
read. It was the book of the Gospels, and the more she read and heard
of Christ, the more she longed to grow like Him. She could not bear to
think that she wore fine dresses, while He had been so poor and suffered
so much. And so, underneath her soft, white robe she wore a harsh,
coarse garment made of hair. And when it hurt and rubbed her sorely,
the pain only made her glad, because she wore it for Christ's sake.
Some say the meaning of her name Cecilia is 'Heaven's Lily.' And that
name certainly suited this little Roman maiden. For as God plants the
lilies in the dark earth, and presently they grow up and lift their pure
white cups to heaven, so Cecilia seemed to lift her heart above the sins
and sorrows of the world, where God had planted her, and to turn her
face ever heavenwards.
And the poor people whom she helped and cheered with her kind sympathy
loved to look at her, for the peace of paradise shone in her eyes, and
it seemed to bring heaven nearer to the poor souls.
As soon as Cecilia was old enough, it was arranged that she should marry
a young Roman noble called Valerian, and this made her very unhappy. She
had so hoped to belong only to Christ, and this Valerian was a pagan who
knew nothing of the Lord whom she served. But she knew that her guardian
angel would watch over her and keep her from all harm, and so she obeyed
her father's and mother's wishes, and was married to the young Roman
noble.
When Valerian had taken Cecilia home and all the guests had gone,
and they were left alone together, she told him that, though she was
married, she belonged first of all to Christ, and that her guardian
angel, who never left her, would guard and protect her from all danger.
'Wilt thou not show me this angel, so that I may know that what thou
sayest is true?' asked Valerian.
'Thou canst not see the heavenly messenger until thou hast learnt to
know my Lord,' answered Cecilia.
And as Valerian eagerly asked how he should learn to know this Christ,
Cecilia told him to go along the great Appian Way, outside the walls of
Rome, until he should meet some poor people who lived in the Campagna.
And to them he should say:
'Cecilia bids you show me the way that I may find the old man, Urban
the Good.'
So Valerian started off and went the way Cecilia directed. And the
people guided him as she had promised, until they came to a curious
opening in the ground, down which they told him he must go if he wished
to find Pope Urban.
This opening was the entrance to a strange under-ground place called
the Catacombs.
There were miles and miles of dark passages cut out of the rock, with
here and there a little dark room, and curious shelves hollowed out of
the walls. It was here that many poor Christians lived, hiding themselves
from those who would have put them to death. And the little shelves were
where they buried the bodies of poor Christians who had died for Christ.
It was here that the old Pope, Urban the Good, lived, and he welcomed
Valerian most gladly, knowing why he had come. He began at once to teach
him all that he should know--how God was our Father, and Jesus Christ
His Son, our Saviour. And as Valerian listened to the strange, wonderful
words, the love of God shone into his heart, so that when the old man
asked:
'Believest thou this?'
He answered with all his heart:
'All this I steadfastly believe.'
Then Urban baptized Valerian, and by that sign the young Roman knew that
he was indeed a Christian, a servant of Christ.
All the world looked different to Valerian as he walked back along the
Appian Way to Rome. The flat, low fields of the Campagna, fading away
into the ridges of the purple Apennines, seemed almost like the fields
of paradise, and the song of the birds was like the voice of angels. He
scarcely thought of the dangers and difficulties that were before him,
or if he did it was only to feel glad that he might have anything to
bear for his new Master.
[Illustration: A CROWN OF LILIES AND ROSES IN EACH HAND.]
And when he reached home, and went back to the room where he had left
Cecilia, he found her there waiting for him, with a glad welcome in
her eyes. And as they knelt together they heard a rustle of wings, and
looking up they saw an angel bending over them, with a crown of lilies
and roses in each hand. These he placed upon their heads, and to
Valerian he said:
'Thou hast done well in allowing Cecilia to serve her Master, therefore
ask what thou wilt and thy request shall be granted.'
Then Valerian asked that his brother, whom he dearly loved, might also
learn to know Christ.
And just then the door opened, and the brother whom Valerian loved so
much came in. He, of course, only saw Valerian and Cecilia, and could
not see the angel, or even the wreaths of heavenly roses. But he looked
round in astonishment and said:
'I see no flowers here, and yet the fragrance of roses and lilies is so
sweet and strange, that it makes my very heart glad.'
Then Valerian answered:
'We have two crowns here, which thou canst not see, because thou knowest
not the Lord who sent them to us. But if thou wilt listen, and learn to
know Him, then shalt thou see the heavenly flowers, whose fragrance has
filled thy heart.'
So Valerian and Cecilia told their brother what it meant to be a
Christian. And after the good Urban had taught him also, he was baptized
and became God's knight. Then he, too, saw the heavenly crowns and the
face of the angel who guarded Heaven's Lily.
For a while the home of Valerian and Cecilia was like a paradise on
earth. There was nothing but happiness there. Cecilia loved music above
everything. Her voice was like a bird's, and she sang her hymns of
praise and played so exquisitely, that it is said that even the angels
came down to listen.
But before long it began to be known that Valerian and his brother
helped the poor Christians, and the wicked governor of the city ordered
them both to be seized and brought before him. He told them that there
were but two ways before them: either they must deny that they were
Christians, or they must be put to death.
But God's knights did not fear death, and they went out to meet it
as if they were on their way to a great victory. And when the soldiers
wondered, and asked them if it was not sad that they should lose their
lives while they were still so young, they answered that what looked
like loss on earth was gain in heaven--that they were but laying down
their bodies as one puts off one's clothes to sleep at night. For the
immortal soul could never die, but would live for ever.
So they knelt down, and the cruel blows were struck. But, looking up,
the soldiers saw a great pathway of light shining down from heaven. And
the souls of Valerian and his brother were led up by angel hands to the
throne of God, there to receive the crowns of everlasting glory which
they had won on earth.
And so Cecilia was left alone. But she did not spend her time grieving.
Gathering the people and soldiers around her, she taught them about the
Lord of Heaven, for whose sake Valerian and his brother had so gladly
suffered death. And it was not long before she also trod the shining
pathway up to heaven and met the ones she loved.
For the governor was not satisfied with the death of Valerian and his
brother, but ordered Cecilia to be brought before him.
'What sort of a woman art thou, and what is thy name?' he asked.
'I am a Roman lady,' she answered with grave dignity,' and among men
I am known by the name of Cecilia. But'--and her voice rang out proudly
as she looked fearlessly into those angry eyes--'my noblest name is
Christian.'
Then the enraged governor ordered that she should be taken to her house,
and put to death in her bath. But the boiling water could not hurt her,
and she was as cool as if she had bathed in a fresh spring.
This made the governor more furious than ever, and he ordered that her
head should be cut off.
But even after she had received three strokes from the sword she did
not die, but lived for three days. And these days she spent in quietly
putting her house in order and dividing her money among the poor, ever
singing in her sweet voice the praises of God.
And so at the end of three days God's angel came and led Cecilia home,
and all that was left of her on earth was her fair body, lying like a
tired child asleep, with hands clasped, gently resting now that her work
on earth was done.
And in Rome to-day there is a splendid church built over the place where
Cecilia's house stood. Some day if you go there, you will see her little
room and the bath in which the boiling water could not hurt her. You
will see too, a beautiful marble figure lying under the altar, and you
will know exactly how Cecilia looked when she left her tired body lying
there, and went up the shining path to God.
[Illustration: SHE TAUGHT THEM ABOUT THE LORD OF HEAVEN.]
SAINT GILES
It was in the beautiful land of Greece that Saint Giles was born, very
far away from the grey northern city, whose cathedral bears his name.
His parents were of royal blood, and were, moreover, Christians; so the
boy was brought up most carefully, and taught all that a prince should
know.
He was a dreamy, quiet boy, and what he loved best was to wander out in
the green woods by himself, with no companions but the animals and birds
and flowers. He would lie for hours watching the birds busily build
their nests, or the rabbits as they timidly peeped at him out of their
holes. And soon all the woodland creatures began to look upon him as
their friend, and even the wildest would come gradually nearer and
nearer, almost within reach of his hand; and they seemed to listen when
he talked to them, as if they could understand what he said. One thing
they certainly did understand, and that was that he loved them and would
do them no harm.
Saint Giles could not bear to see anything suffer, and his pity was
great for all those in pain; and often he would mend a bird's broken
wing, or bind up a little furry foot that had been torn in a trap; and
the birds and beasts always lay quiet under his hand, and seemed to know
that he would cure them, even though the touch might hurt.
It happened that one day, when Saint Giles was kneeling in church, he
saw a poor beggar lying there on the cold, stone floor. He had scarcely
any clothes to keep him warm, and his face had a hungry, suffering look,
which filled the heart of the saint with pity. He saw that the poor man
was ill and trembling with cold, so without a moment's thought, he took
off his own warm cloak and tenderly wrapped it round the beggar.
The warmth of the cloak seemed to bring life back to the poor chilled
body, and when Saint Giles had given him food and wine, he was able to
lift himself up, and to bless the kind youth who had helped him.
And when the people saw what had happened they thought Saint Giles had
worked a miracle, and cured the man by his wonderful touch; for they did
not realise that all kind deeds work miracles every day.
It did not please Saint Giles that people should think he possessed this
miraculous gift of healing, and he had no wish to be called a saint. He
only longed to lead his own quiet life and to help all God's creatures
who needed his care. But the people would not leave him alone, and they
brought to him those who were sick and lame and blind, and expected that
he would heal them.
It is true that many needed only a little human aid, and the food and
help which Saint Giles gave them would soon make them well again; but
there were some he could not help, and it wrung his heart to see their
pleading eyes, and to watch them bring out their little store of
hard-earned money, eager to buy the aid which he so willingly would
have given had he been able.
So at last Saint Giles determined to leave his native city, for he had
been all alone since his father and mother had died. He wished to escape
from the anxious crowds that refused to leave him in peace; but first he
sold all that he had and gave it to the poor of the city, an act which
made them surer than ever that he was one of God's saints. Then he
sailed away across the sea to a far-off country.
There Saint Giles found a lonely cave in which an old hermit lived.
'Here at last I shall find peace and quietness,' said he to himself,
'and men will soon forget me.'
But even here ere long his friends found him, for his fame had spread
across the seas. So once more he set out and went further and further
away, by paths that few had ever trod before, until in the depths of a
green forest he found another shelter, a cave among grey rocks overgrown
with lichens, and hidden by the sheltering boughs of the surrounding
trees. Saint Giles had always loved the woods and this was just the home
he had longed for. A clear stream flowed not far off, and his only
companions would be the birds and beasts and flowers.
Early in the morning the birds would wake him with their song, and the
wild creatures would come stealing out of the wood to share his meal.
And his silent friends, the flowers, would cheer and help him by their
beauty, and remind him of God's garden whose gate would one day open for
him, where he would wander in the green pastures beside the still waters
of Life for evermore.
But of all his companions the one Saint Giles loved best was a gentle
white doe, who came to him as soon as he settled in the cave. She seemed
to have no fear of him from the first, and stayed with him longer and
longer each time, until at last she took up her abode with him, and
would never leave him, lying close to him when he slept, and walking by
his side wherever he went.
This peaceful life went on for a long time and it seemed as if nothing
could disturb its quiet happiness. But it happened that one day as Saint
Giles was praying in the cave, and his companion, the white doe, was
nibbling her morning meal of fresh grass by the banks of the stream, a
curious noise was heard afar off. It came nearer and nearer, and then
shouts of men's voices could be heard, the sound of horses galloping and
the note of the hunter's horn. Then came the deep baying of dogs, and
before the startled doe could hide, the whole hunt was upon her. With a
wild halloo they chased her across the greensward and through the trees,
and just as she disappeared into the cave, one of the huntsmen drew
his bow and sent an arrow flying after her. Then they all dismounted
and went to see what had become of the hunted doe, and soon found the
opening into the cave. But what was their surprise, when they burst in,
to find an old man kneeling there. He was sheltering the terrified doe
who had fled to him for refuge, and an arrow had pierced the kind hand
that had been raised to shield her.
The huntsmen were ashamed of their cruel sport when they saw the wounded
hand of the old man and the trembling form of the white doe as it
crouched behind him, and they listened with reverence to the hermit's
words as he spoke to them of man's duty towards God's dumb creatures.
The King of France, who was one of the hunting party, came often after
this to see Saint Giles, and at last offered to build him a monastery
and give him all that he could want; but the old man begged to be left
alone in his woodland cave, to serve God in peace and quietness. So
there he lived quietly and happily for many years, until God took him,
and he left his cave for the fairer fields of paradise.
People loved the thought of this peaceful old saint who dwelt in the
woods and was the protector of all sorrowful and suffering creatures,
and so they often called their churches after Saint Giles, especially
those churches which were built in the fields or near green woods.
The surroundings of many of these churches are to-day changed. There
are no fields now round his great cathedral church in the old town of
Edinburgh; but the poor and sick and sorrowful crowd very near to its
shelter, and the memory of the pitiful heart of the gentle old saint
still hovers like a blessing round the grey old walls.
SAINT NICHOLAS
Of all the saints that little children love is there any to compare with
Santa Claus? The very sound of his name has magic in it, and calls up
visions of well-filled stockings, with the presents we particularly want
peeping over the top, or hanging out at the side, too big to go into
the largest sock. Besides, there is something so mysterious and exciting
about Santa Claus, for no one seems to have ever seen him. But we picture
him to ourselves as an old man with a white beard, whose favourite way
of coming into our rooms is down the chimney, bringing gifts for the good
children and punishments for the bad.
Yet this Santa Claus, in whose name the presents come to us at Christmas
time, is a very real saint, and we can learn a great deal about him,
only we must remember that his true name is Saint Nicholas. Perhaps the
little children, who used to talk of him long ago, found Saint Nicholas
too difficult to say, and so called him their dear Santa Claus. But we
learn, as we grow older, that Nicholas is his true name, and that he is
a real person who lived long years ago, far away in the East.
The father and mother of Nicholas were noble and very rich, but what
they wanted most of all was to have a son. They were Christians, so
they prayed to God for many years that he would give them their heart's
desire; and when at last Nicholas was born, they were the happiest
people in the world.
They thought there was no one like their boy; and indeed he was wiser
and better than most children, and never gave them a moment's trouble.
But alas, while he was still a child, a terrible plague swept over the
country, and his father and mother died, leaving him quite alone.
All the great riches which his father had possessed were left to
Nicholas, and among other things he inherited three bars of gold. These
golden bars were his greatest treasure, and he thought more of them than
all the other riches he possessed.
Now in the town where Nicholas lived there dwelt a nobleman with three
daughters. They had once been very rich, but great misfortunes had
overtaken the father, and now they were all so poor they had scarcely
enough to live upon.
At last a day came when there was not even bread enough to eat, and the
daughters said to their father:
'Let us go out into the streets and beg, or do anything to get a little
money, that we may not starve.'
But the father answered:
'Not to-night. I cannot bear to think of it. Wait at least until
to-morrow. Something may happen to save my daughters from such
disgrace.'
Now, just as they were talking together, Nicholas happened to be
passing, and as the window was open he heard all that the poor father
said. It seemed terrible to think that a noble family should be so poor
and actually in want of bread, and Nicholas tried to plan how it would
be possible to help them. He knew they would be much too proud to take
money from him, so he had to think of some other way. Then he remembered
his golden bars, and that very night he took one of them and went
secretly to the nobleman's house, hoping to give the treasure without
letting the father or daughters know who brought it.
To his joy Nicholas discovered that a little window had been left open,
and by standing on tiptoe he could just reach it. So he lifted the
golden bar and slipped it through the window, never waiting to hear what
became of it, in case any one should see him. (And now do you see the
reason why the visits of Santa Claus are so mysterious?)
Inside the house the poor father sat sorrowfully watching, while his
children slept. He wondered if there was any hope for them anywhere, and
he prayed earnestly that heaven would send help. Suddenly something fell
at his feet, and to his amazement and joy, he found it was a bar of pure
gold.
'My child,' he cried, as he showed his eldest daughter the shining gold,
'God has heard my prayer and has sent this from heaven. Now we shall
have enough and to spare. Call your sisters that we may rejoice
together, and I will go instantly and change this treasure.'
[Illustration: HE SHOWED HIS DAUGHTER THE GOLD.]
The precious golden bar was soon sold to a money-changer, who gave so
much for it that the family were able to live in comfort and have all
that they needed. And not only was there enough to live upon, but so
much was over that the father gave his eldest daughter a large dowry,
and very soon she was happily married.
When Nicholas saw how much happiness his golden bar had brought to the
poor nobleman, he determined that the second daughter should have a
dowry too. So he went as before and found the little window again open,
and was able to throw in the second golden bar as he had done the first.
This time the father was dreaming happily, and did not find the treasure
until he awoke in the morning. Soon afterwards the second daughter had
her dowry and was married too.
The father now began to think that, after all, it was not usual for
golden bars to fall from heaven, and he wondered if by any chance
human hands had placed them in his room. The more he thought of it the
stranger it seemed, and he made up his mind to keep watch every night,
in case another golden bar should be sent as a portion for his youngest
daughter.