The Ravens and the Angels, with Other Stories and Parables

E-text prepared by Peter Vachuska, Chuck Greif, Josephine Paolucci, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
London: T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW. EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. 1894 All Rights Reserved .

In those old days, in that old city, they called the Cathedral—and they thought it—the house of God. The Cathedral was the Father's house for all, and therefore it was loved and honoured, and enriched with lavish treasures of wealth and work, beyond any other father's house.
The Cathedral was the Father's house, and therefore close to its gates might nestle the poor dwellings of the poor,—too poor to find a shelter anywhere besides; because the central life and joy of the house of God was the suffering, self-sacrificing Son of Man; and dearer to Him, now and for ever, as when He was on earth, was the feeblest and most fallen human creature He had redeemed than the most glorious heavenly constellation of the universe He had made.
And so it happened that when Berthold, the stone-carver, died, Magdalis, his young wife, and her two children, then scarcely more than babes, Gottlieb and little Lenichen, were suffered to make their home in the little wooden shed which had once sheltered a hermit, and which nestled into the recess close to the great western gate of the Minster.
Thus, while, inside, from the lofty aisles pealed forth, night and day, the anthems of the choir, close outside, night and day, rose also, even more surely, to God, the sighs of a sorrowful woman and the cries of little children whom all her toil could hardly supply with bread. Because, He hears the feeblest wail of want, though it comes not from a dove or even from a harmless sparrow, but a young raven. And He does not heed the sweetest anthem of the fullest choir, if it is a mere pomp of sound. Because, while the best love of His meanest creatures is precious to Him, the second-best of His loftiest creatures is intolerable to Him. He heeds the shining of the drops of dew and the rustling of the blades of grass. But from creatures who can love He cannot accept the mere outside offering of creatures which can only make a pleasant sound.