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At Church. 43
tombstone in the churchyard. She was thinking
how she had come to church on purpose to pray for
her mother, who was lying ill and without assistance,
in a lonely hut, far up in the forest.
“T wish I dared to enter the church!” Ingrid
sighed, but she ventured not. “I will pray for
mother, though, out here,” she said to herself, and
folded her little hands in prayer.
The green dome of the linden rose higher into
the air, and extended far and wide. All the trees
around changed into richly-carved pillars entwined
with garlands, and they carried an arch aloft,
glimmering with beautiful colours. Between the
pillars floated little clouds, out of which peeped forth
small angelic heads, with white pinions behind, and
they nodded to Ingrid. Glorious music filled the
air, and the little angels in the clouds joined in
the hymn. It was a sight of dazzling splendour, ot
which no words can convey an idea—as if Heaven
itself had withdrawn its veil to allow the little
praying beggar-child to behold its glory. And a
soft voice reached her from the effulgent distance,
saying : “For the meek and lowly I raise a church
wherever they kneel and fold their hands in
prayer.”
We) Jeo
One a
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