Those who are received into the Church later in life lack an inestimable privilege. Not for them the intimacy of long acquaintance, nor the memories of a childhood spent at their mother’s knee, not for them the almost imperceptible growth in an atmosphere perfectly adapted to the needs of their soul. It is only with faltering footsteps, not rarely after some profound crisis, that the convert approaches the Church, conscious of his defects, yet eager to learn. Then, as he meets the Teaching Church, this desire will quickly deepen into love, a love which seeks expression in manifold ways. It is true he may discover no new features in the well-loved face. But as Her perfections are infinite, Her praise admits of endless variations.

It was seven or eight years ago, I believe, in the Cathedral of Cologne, with its vast spaces and soaring pillars, its lofty chapels and the majestic aloofness of the High Altar, that the meaning of the word “ House of God ” first dawned on me. Unlimited space moulded into the austerity of form, exuberance of life disciplined by perfect order, infinite variety in complete harmony. This was indeed a mansion worthy of the Most High, with places set apart for various purposes, each of profound significance, all worthy of further exploration. It is true, the faithful who pursued their different errands in this vast building were dwarfed by the grandeur in which the overwhelming majesty of God became outwardly visible. It seemed to matter little that they were there. Yet, even so, I cannot but recall a strange feeling of wonder at the ease with which they moved in a house, the presence of whose Divine Host, though invisible, was everywhere manifest.