ed away to do some
service for the poor. He went unwillingly, the legend says, for he
longed to put the last touches to the holy picture he was painting; but
when he returned, lo! he found his work finished by angel hands.

Often when we look at some of Fra Angelico's pictures we are reminded
of this legend, and feel that he too might have been helped by those
same angel hands. Did they indeed touch his eyes that he might catch
glimpses of a Heaven where saints were swinging their golden censers,
and white-robed angels danced in the flowery meadows of Paradise? We
cannot tell; but this we know, that no other painter has ever shown us
such a glory of heavenly things.

Best of all, the angel-painter loved to paint pictures of the life of
our Lord; and in the picture I have shown you, you will see the tender
care with which he has drawn the head of the Infant Jesus with His
little golden halo, the Madonna in her robe of purest blue, holding the
Baby close in her arms, St. Joseph the guardian walking at the side,
and all around the flowers and trees which he loved so well in the
quiet home of Fiesole.

He did not care for fame or power, this dreamy painter of angels, and
when the Pope invited him to Rome to paint the walls of a chapel there,
he thought no more of the glory and honour than if he was but called
upon to paint another cell at San Marco.

But when the Pope had seen what this quiet monk could do, he called the
artist to him.

'A man who can paint such pictures,' he said, 'must be a good man, and
one who will do well whatever he undertakes. Will you, then, do other
work for me, and become my Archbishop at Florence?' But the painter was
startled and dismayed.

'I cannot teach or preach or govern men,' he said, 'I can but use my
gift of painting for the glory of God. Let me rather be as I am, for it
is safer to obey than to rule.'

But though he would not take this honour himself, he told the Pope of a
friend of his, a humble brother, Fra Antonino, at the convent of San
Marco, who was well fitted to do the work. So the Pope took the
painter's advice, and the choice was so wise and good, that to this day
the Florentine people talk lovingly of their good bishop Antonino.

It was while he was at work in Rome that Fra Angelico died, so his body
does not rest in his own beloved Florence. But if his body lies in
Rome, his gentle spirit still seems to hover around the old convent of
San Marco, and there we learn