repeatedly called to order by F. Cuthbert shouting ‘The star, the star!’ in his ear.
And if there was much to be desired in these religious offices which were of a private character it will be readily imagined that their public services were not more satisfactory. During the long hours which monks and nuns devote to prayer every day it is impossible to expect a continuous ecstasy on their part; and, since most of the psalms do not vary from day to day, the very monotony of the services would stand in the way of any very serious devotion. But in their public ceremonies another distracting element is introduced, the presence of closely observant spectators; it were not in human nature to be insensible of their presence. The sanctuary becomes a stage, and strive how he may to think of higher things, the ordinary mortal cannot banish the thought that some hundreds, perhaps thousands, of eyes are bent upon his every movement; the Catholic sanctuary with its myriads of burning tapers, its fragrant incense, its glory of colour in flowers and vestments, compels attention—every line of the church converges towards the tabernacle, the priest.
Hence it is not surprising to find that there is a vast amount of empty formalism and purely dramatic effect in sanctuary work. One cannot, of course, attach much importance to the grave and devout expressions of the ministers, for it is part of their discipline: from their earliest years they have been
