The mother looked out on the ivy-grown walls of the church, with its
flocks of twittering sparrows, and said:

"Yes, my little birds; you may play there if you'll be very good and
quiet."

The mother had only her small, close attic room for her darlings, and to
satisfy all their childish desire for variety and motion, she had only
the refuge of the streets. She was a decent, godly woman, and the bold
manners and evil words of street vagrants were terrible to her; and so,
when the church gates were open for daily morning and evening prayers,
she had often begged the sexton to let her little ones come in and hear
the singing, and wander hand in hand around the old church walls. He was
a kindly old man, and the children, stealing round like two still,
bright-eyed little mice, had gained upon his heart, and he made them
welcome there. It gave the mother a feeling of protection to have them
play near the church, as if it were a father's house.

So she put on their little hoods and tippets, and led them forth, and saw
them into the yard; and as she looked to the old gray church, with its
rustling ivy bowers and flocks of birds, her heart swelled within her.
"Yea, the sparrow hath found a house and the swallow a nest where she may
lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my king and my God!"
And the Shining Ones walking with her said, "Fear not; ye are of more
value than many sparrows."

[Decoration]