The daily morning journal and courier., 1905-01-14

uSilef III the CnrlSt.ndS day. But III the abbey it was still silent. Only little mouse ran across the worn stone floor of the wide corridor, and then crept' into its hole, for the dcor of one of the cells at the end of the arehed way had just opened and the light of an oil lamp shone through the dim room.
 A monk crossed the pillared hall with slow steps and opened the little door of the cloister garden. A gust Of wind blew out his lamp. He did not need his lamp any longer, for in the east the sun
 was rising. The Christ night was fad
 ing into the clear Christmas morning.
 A light snowfall had kissed the earth and the trees and bushes glistened in
 the snowy magnificence.
 The yard of the cloister was shut in
 by a low, half ruined wall, and over
 this could be seen the wide valley of
 the Mosel at the foot of the cloister
 mountain. The gray of the morning still enveloped the landscape. Only the
 silver blue of the Mosel shimmered
 through the mist, and beyond rose the
 towers of Trief. There also the Christ
 mas morning bells were ringing. Upon the path which led up through vine clad hillsgto the cloister dark forms
 are to be seen. They are pilgrims who are coming here to pray and to cele-
 brate. the feast of Christmas.
 As brother Laurentius saw them com ing he drew back the bolt of the gate
 and then walked up and down in the little garden, waiting for them, He was a young man. A wonderful quiet peace was upon his face, and his whole being breathed forth child-like
 Christmas joyousness. The star over
 Bethlehem's manager had beamed down
 upon him too.
 Beneath his feet the snow cracked,
 the pale light of the crescent moon, al
 most disappearing, stood high above his head. From an old, evergreen by the well he bent down a twig till it touched
 his face. The light snowfiakes fell upon
 his brown cassock, he. smiled over the little glimmering stars, but he shook them off. :s-,.
 He was about to resume his walk 1 when his eyes became fastened upon the stone basin of the old well. Among | the dry twigs he saw a fresh green sprout, he pushed the dry leaves aside,
 deep blush of pleasure came over his pale face. Behold a full blown rose in the midst of the cold winter. He broke off the little rose. How sweet it's fra grance. A beautiful rose bloom in the
 midst of the dry leaves and the snow Oh, that was a wondrous Christmas gift. ..5. | Steps were heard in the church, the abbot and the monks were marching | into the chapel Brother Laurentius
 hastened forward to meet the pilgrims | with Gods greeting, then led them into the chapel
 | As the Ambrosian festival hymn of l tChrist's> Earth-coming" was being sung the young monk kpelt at the steps l.of the altar and joined with full voice in the wonderful melody of that hymn | which is so fine an example of the n1u- sic of the early Christian church, and l which in that time of the middle ages
 was sung throughout the German Fath- | erland:
 1 laid upon the rude wooden manager,
 where, upon bed of straw, the infant Jesus was slumbering, and as he laid there this blooming, fragrant offering,
 the words of the prophet were running | through his soul. .--....-
 And there shall come forth rod out of the stem of Jesse and branch shall grow out of his roots. ."-Gsaiah xxi, i.) The Hallelujah had ended and the had hnaY1 coia h1ff eli +, ,e,,. | Laurentius fingered in the chapel The worshipers, too, were already vending their way down the mountain side. He
 did not notice that the candles upon the altar had gone out and that the morn l ing sun was looking into the little | church through the round lead-framed
 windows; he saw nothing of all this; he
 was thinking only Of his little rose and of the Son of God come in the flesh Upon this lovely Christ-feast will it shed it's fragrance, will it bloom and l die. And as he thought of all the won derful blessings of Christmas his soul seemed filled with music. He took a roll of parchment from the folds of his
 gown and wrote in a plaiu hand, while he softly repeated the words then he
 rose up quickly, struck chord on the little organ and looked dreamily at the picture of St. Cecelia painted upon the decaying walls of the little church. 1 Softly flowed from his lips low sweet tones, then, leaning his head for a mo-
 ment in thought upon his hand, he be-
 gan his song. First slow and solemn,
 then soft and mystical, now louder and
 more joyful, like praise-fuli prayer, | rang out:
 1 ''Lo, how Rose e'er blooming From tender stem hath sprung!" I Of Jesse's liniage coming,
 As men of old have sung.