A man is struck by a bus on a busy street in New York City. He lies dying on the sidewalk as a crowd of on-lookers gathersaround. "A priest. Somebody get me a priest!" the man gasps. A policeman checks the crowd----no priest, no minister, no man of God of anykind. "A PRIEST, PLEASE!" the dying man says again. Then out of the crowd steps a little old man dressed shabbily and of at least eighty years of age.

 

"Mr. Policeman," says the man, "I'm not a priest. I'm not even a Catholic. But for fifty years now I've been living behind St. Elizabeth's Catholic Church on First Avenue, and every night I'm listening to the Catholic litany. Maybe I can be of some comfort tothis man."

The policeman agrees and brings the octogenarian over to where the dying man lay.