top the children's singing, and even the
dear Disciples, who often thought they might be troublesome to the
Master. But the little ones sang for Him, and He knew, and was pleased.
And that is all we have to think of now."

He kissed her, and went away with a lightened brow.

Many of the neighbors came in that afternoon to congratulate Magdalis
on her boy--his face, his voice, his gentle ways.

"And then he sings with such feeling," said one. "One sees it is in his
heart."

But in the evening Gottlieb came home very sad and desponding. For some
time he said nothing, and then, with a brave effort to restrain his
tears, he murmured:

"Oh, mother! I am afraid it will soon be over. I heard one of the
priests say he thought they had a new chorister at the Cistercians
whose voice is as good as mine. So that the archduchess may not like
our choir best, after all."

The mother said nothing for a moment, and then she said:

"Whose praise and love will the boy at the Cistercian convent sing,
Gottlieb, if he has such a lovely voice?"

"God's!--the dear Heavenly Father and the Savior!" he said, reverently.

"And you, my own? Will another little voice on earth prevent His
hearing you? Do the thousands of thousands always singing to Him above
prevent His hearing you? And what would the world do if the only voice
worth listening to were thine? It cannot be heard beyond one church, or
one street. And the good Lord has ten thousand churches, and cities
full of people who want to hear."

"But thou, mother! Thou and Lenichen, and the bread!"

"It was the raven that brought the bread," she said, smiling; "and thou
art not even a raven,--only a little child to pick up the bread the
raven brought."

He sat silent a few minutes, and then the terrible cloud of self and
pride dropped off from his heart like a death-shroud, and he threw
himself into her arms.

"Oh, mother, I see it all!" he said. "I am free again. I have only to
sing to the blessed Lord of all, quite sure He listens, to Him alone,
and to all else as just a little one of the all He loves."

And after the evening meal, and a game with Lenichen, the boy crept out
to the cathedral to say his prayers in one of the little chapels, and
to thank God.

He knelt in the Lady chapel before the image of the infant Christ on
the mother's knees.

And as he knelt there, it came into his heart that all the next Week
was Passion week, "the still week," and would be silent; and