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Wisdom speculated whether He should find faith on His return.

In the difficulties of the present which seem to our narrow earthly vision more insuperable than any in the past life of the Church, Wisdom forbids us to leave her as a sinking ship in her time of need and seek refuge from the trials of the moment in a place where life seems easier as we view it from without. Pusey and Keble, not Newman or Manning, are those in whom we find the docile, patient heart in which Wisdom bears her fruit. Wisdom equips the Church with the armor for defence against the weapons for assault upon each new enemy, or rather the old enemy in new guise. Arianism in the fourth century; indifference to religion, interest in the pseudo-religion of the occult-which is faith degenerated into superstition, or the spurious mysticism of the twentieth century, terrify her only because she leans upon the earthly, sets controversy in the place of prayer, magnifies the present, forgets the past. How should we realize our need of Wisdom were it not for the trials of our faith? How should we appreciate the meagreness of our faith, the limitations of earthly wisdom? How should we comprehend the word of St. James: "If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him?" Having asked, we should rise from our knees girt with the sword that He left, by the use of which peace, real peace, is begotten. Wisdom leads the Church to "declare all the counsel of God,"" and yet to set it forth so that it may attract and not repel him who seriously seeks. How often is Christian

16St. Jas. 1:5.

17 Acts 20:27.

truth, the very truth of God, made repugnant because Wisdom is lacking in its presentation!

"Wisdom hath built herself a house" wherein her children may safely dwell, a sheep-fold wherein alone security may be found from the treacherous voices that lure mens' souls astray; an ark wherein alone we are safe from the flood of soul-destroying novelty that seeks to sweep us out of the haven of safety. It is Wisdom that teaches us to find our security therein, even the peace which passes all understanding. Wisdom has its beginning here, its fruition when we see all things in the light of the Beatific Vision.

The Tradition of Beauty in the Church

TH

THOMAS RAYMOND BALL

HERE exists, in the minds of most of us, an impression that, somehow or other, the Church stands or stood for beauty. The cathedrals of the Gothic era, the sumptuous vestments of the Spanish renaissance, the ivories and enameled ornaments of the more primitive church, are all identified with the belief that to God belongs rightfully, the finest, and the best, and the most beautiful that man's hands can form; or with the theory, pressed upon us by the pagan connoisseur, that the Church always kept the best for herself. And yet, were one to be shown a composite photograph of our American churches, any such impression would be completely nullified. For it is the rare exception to discover a church building that bespeaks inspiration, originality, or artistic expression. As a direct result of this situation our churches are so often totally lacking in any

atmosphere of religion, and only by a strong effort of imagination, and tremendous power of faith, can one sense the environment of God amid the glaring monstrosities of postVictorian design.

The past generation has left us but little in the way of architectural and artistic heirlooms. For that very reason we of the generation that is passing must do all that we can to restore to our mother the Church her heritage of beauty. It is our duty and our privilege to provide and leave behind us this legacy. We must create the atmosphere of wonder, reverence, and joy, that we now feel, standing mute before the spectacle of that great cathedral church of France, torn with shell, and splashed with the mud and blood of battle, but regal in her splendid ruin; or examining with eyes of admiration the marvelous craftsmanship, the lovely color of one of the Hoentschel enamels; or again, discovering, in some forgotten corner of Europe, a fragment only, but so exquisite, of a frescoed wall by an unknown artist.

In the thirteenth century, and before, there was genius; then, and later, that genius was coupled with the ability to construct. By this means were the great cathedrals built, the vast fabric of beauty wrought, and the religion of our Church shown forth. Today, in New York and Boston, in Detroit and again further west, are men and women, artists, architects, sculptors, jewelers, needleworkers, able and ready to take up the work of their forerunners. To these must we look, and to these we should go. By means of these can we raise to the glory of God, churches conceived and carried out in the spirit, not of the past, but of all time, the spirit of beauty-beauty of thought, of design, of structure, and of fabric.

In the painting of a picture, the erection of a building,

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the carving of a statue, three elements are concerned, color, texture, and form. By their cohesion we have beauty, and by their misuse we get our composite American church of today, a hideous monster formed of golden oak woodwork, much lacquered brass, statues moulded not modeled, stone altars on wooden floors, tinted with kalsomine, and stencilled with Dutch metal. And we wonder that our people spend their Sunday mornings at home with the "Rotogravure section!"

There are countless village churches in the old world that we would do well to remember in planning for our country church in the new. There are the eternal models of basilican Rome and Gothic France to help in our hopes for a great cathedral. There are competent, nay, brilliant architects, and artists of ability. Why then must we, how then can we, perpetuate a tradition of nineteenth century ugliness, of bad design and shoddy workmanship, of clapboarded "Gothic," and stuccoed "Mission?"

It is not as if our work had not been started for us. Through the trees I can see the white wooden meeting-house that stands on the green at the end of the village street surrounded by the quiet dignity of the great elms. Simple and very beautiful, it stands an exquisite example of the finest type of Georgian architecture; partaking of, and showing forth, the sterling qualities of those who gave us our country; and a monument to the sound sense, good taste, and devotion, of one of the founders of our nation.

And on the east side of New York, there has very recently been raised up a great Roman Catholic parish church served by the Fathers of the Dominican Order. An example of the inspiration and originality of one of our most brilliant architects, it is a testimony to the artistic in

telligence of the Order of Preachers, in whom still lives the spirit of Fra Angelico; and as one kneels before the statue of our Lady, lighted so delicately with a hundred twinkling tapers, in this church glorious with color, beauteous in raiment, and pulsating with devotion, one feels again if only for a moment the glow and warmth of the ages of faith.

And when we turn from this picture of what the snobbish modernist sneeringly terms mediævalism, and look with inquiring wonder on our churches of today, the thought slowly dawns upon us that perhaps in our eagerness to please collarless radicals from eastern Europe, in our apparent desire to explain away the articles of our faith in the interests of science, in our aspirations towards adventures in unity and federation, we have forgotten something.

Our Lesser Ladies of October

MINNA CAROLINE SMITH

T. Faith's Day is October 6, the St. Faith who is of most

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jects of pilgrimage to old St. Paul's in London. There were two sets of saints bearing the names of Faith, Hope and Charity in Rome in another day, but our lesser lady celebrated on the sixth was a French girl of the third century. Her home was at Agen, in the province of Aquitaine. She was of noble family, and the pagan governor summoned her to renounce her faith.

On her refusal, she was bound fast over a charcoal brazier, with her arms and legs tied to four posts, and so martyred over living coals. In art St. Faith is represented with

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