The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-10-25

As these and many other like
thoughts passed through his mind, the
sermon ended and the procession be
gan to form. Down the nave came
the altar-servers, followed by train
of white-robed children. Then imme-
diately before the priest streWing
roses in his path came four tiny
maidens How they reminded him of
Angela! He seemed to hear her baby
accents lisping 'Muvver Mary, better
Chum"
Sweet Sacrament we Thee adore,
Oh make us love Thee more and
more,
rang out the triumphant chorus.
In the bowed heads of those around
him, in the serious reverent express
sion of the children's faces as they
passed him, Warmer read faith, deep
living faith in mystery of which till
that evening he had never dreamed
1T is very beautiful, very artistic;
but how can such doctrine be true?"
he thought.
Yet are these people fanatics?
Have they lost all intelligence? Sure
ly, if that were not true, no human
being in his senses could worship
That
He was sitting at the end of a pew.
AS the priest approached with the
monstrance raised on high, Warmer
h ~ L
did SO an unaccountable feeling of
awe stole over his soul.
Involuntarily he knelt with bowed
head, and his lips moved in prayer.
He remembered no set form of words,
and unconsciously his appeal was an
echo of Angela's prayer.
20 God, o Christi" he repeated, eff
you be God, if you be here-'better'
me. Lord grant that l may see.''
Then was it as if the voice of God
spoke. Let there be light" and the
full radiance shone upon him, and
though he understood not how or why,
he knew that he believed.
Two months later he was received
into the one true fold.
1t was the eighth of December two
years after the opening of our story
In private ward in the Johannes.
burg Hospital, Frank Warmer lay
dying.
A priest knelt at his side, and
prayed aloud the beautiful prayers,
in which the Catholic Church pleads
for strength for her children in that
last awful hour.
The dying man lay quiet, his eyes
! closed, look of peace on his counter
ance. Among other lessons his new
faith had taught him was the divine
one of resignation. He had learnt
that it is not length of life that
counts, but the intensity of living
that patience and meekness are a veri
table philosophers stone for trans.
muting the dross of pain into golden
glory of Heaven, and that there are
worse fates than being cut off from
this world of sin and sorrow in ones
early manhood And now death was at
hand, but it had no terrors for him
Would not "Muvver Mary" soothe il
with her presence? Would she not
latter this exile show to him the
blessed fruit of her womb, as he had
learned to ask her daily?
Presently the great lustrous eyes
opened, and with feeble motion the
dying man beckoned to the priest.
Father" he whispered, Il am going.
Don't forget my request The at
tendant Sister saw that the end was
near Round one transparent hand
was wound the little golden rosary
The Sister raised the cross to his
lips He kissed it reverently. Then
his look turned upwards and he
seemed to be gazing intently at some
thing. Little Angela! Jesus! Mother
Mary" the nurse heard him utter
brokenly. A moment later he fell
back dead.
The Catholic NeLDS.