He was buried within the cloisters of the monastery. There his bones continued to rest even after the dissolution of the monastery at the Reformation in 1573, and thence they were disinterred in 1672 and placed in a shrine. But no miracles were wrought at his grave or by his bones. Whatever the faults of the Brethren of the Common Life, it was not in the atmosphere of the modern devotion that men learned to crave after such evidence of sanctity in the servants of God. So the brotherhood and its affiliated order have made no contributions to the list of Roman Catholic saints. There is room in that long and motley list for Giovanni da Capistrano, the cruel and implacable inquisitor, whose path across Europe was marked with blood and fire. But none has been found for the gentle and loving Thomas à Kempis, who has wooed millions of souls to a closer communion with his Master, and whose own life preached humility, patience, gentleness, renunciation of the world, conformity to the will of God, and likeness to Christ, as distinctly as does his great book. Well, he is content. _Ama nesciri_—love to be unknown—was a precept often on his lips and illustrated in his life. Of small matter to him would have been the attempt to deny his authorship of the _Imitation_, and the controversy of two centuries’ duration it provoked. Of no greater moment the refusal of the name of saint to one whose only miracles were wrought upon the spirits of his brethren. But the Church catholic says of him, “Surely this was a holy man of God.”