Until end of February, 1993.

In its own unique contribution to the Christmas season, the National Gallery has staged a most unusual and beautiful exhibition in the Ondaatje Wing.

At one end, and breathtaking in its theatrical impact, is a display of stained glass, its rich jewel-like colours shown to full advantage against a black ground. The centrepiece is Vivienne Gardner's window, entitled Faith, Hope and Love, commissioned by the White family in memory of Leyland and Eleanor White, for installation in St. Anne's Church in Southampton after the show.

Mrs. Gardner triumphantly confirms, if this is needed, that this ancient combination of art and craft is as potent today as it was in the Middle Ages.

There is a sense of serene harmony in the three maidens who represent these human concepts, who are placed firmly in a local context by the surrounding array of such Bermuda flowers as Easter lilies, hibiscus and morning glory.

Her two smaller panels, depicting Unicorn and the Maiden and a pipe-playing Pan, are worked in cooler colours, with the central figures entwined in autumnal-toned leaves.

Also on show are several small pieces of stained glass in the form of Antique Roundels, said to have originally come from Westminster Abbey.

The rest of this gallery is devoted to a display of icons, hung in a single, eye-level row, each one ingeniously mounted on red grounds and encased in plexiglass cases that seem about to float away from the walls.

Icons (derived from the Greek word for image or likeness) take us back to the early days of Christian art when these depictions, usually painted on durable wood, were used as a form of contact between the devotee and the saint or sacred personage to whom prayers were directed. They were particularly popular within the Byzantine church and the Greek and Russian Orthodox churches, functioning in a largely illiterate age as visual aids to belief, but also recognised for their decorative and glorification value.

The future of icons was placed in serious jeopardy during the 8th century, when the Iconoclasts (`image-brakers') feared that they had become idols and were relentlessly destroyed. They were restored to official favour, however, and continued to be used as a mystical medium through which spirituality could pass to the worshipper. At the same time, strict rules were laid down, which accounts for the highly stylistic poses and restriction of subject matter and clarity of presentation.

The somewhat beatific expressions on the faces of these usually sedentary figures conforms with the directive that the subject of the painting should face out from the picture, ready to receive the prayers of all comers.

Although most were painted, some were made of mosaic or carved out of ivory and were sometimes surrounded by precious or semi-precious jewels.

Schools of icon painting sprung up throughout Russia and Eastern Europe, some continuing until the repressions of the Bolshevik revolution brought this flourishing art to an end. More recently, aided by their small size and therefore portability, the icon served as a symbol of defiance in countries where religion was banned.

It comes as something of a surprise to learn that so many of the exquisite icons displayed could be gathered for such an exhibition from lenders right here in Bermuda.

And what a fascinating collection it is, embracing a wide range of styles, with the Virgin and Child holding sway. With most of the lenders themselves unsure of origins and details of their prized possessions and most of the items therefore untitled, it is difficult to point out specifics. There is one especially beautiful, presumably ancient icon, that shows the Virgin in humanly tender mood as the Christ child is cradled against her cheek.

As a ploy against the erosion of the paint, many icons were covered with brass or precious metals, with only the faces left peeping out and there is a splendid example of this expedience on show.

Also, and more unusually, there is another icon that portrays the slaying of the dragon by St. George (or St. Michael), still glowing today with rich shades of orange and ochre.

Another major piece is The Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple, representing an important aspect of the traditional teachings of the Orthodox church, where the Mother of God is especially venerated.

Holding pride of place, with a wall all to itself, is the larger than usual depiction of St. Parasceva Pyatnitsa, a saintly lady almost unknown in the West, but revered in the eastern Christian world. She has a certain topicality today, however, since this early Christian martyr is also the patron saint of tradesmen and of women.

Painted in the late 14th or early 15th century, she hails from the Novgorod School and still retains the brilliant cinnabar tones of her draped robes and hood. Holding an Eastern cross, her face, which is surrounded by a dotted halo, stares across the centuries. Her gaze seems almost eerily alive and spiritually steadfast.

This beautifully arranged exhibition has been curated by David Mitchell, Maurine Cooper and Gallery volunteer Mrs. D. Woods, who just happens to be a professional museum exhibition designer. Between them, they have done a wonderful job -- quite apart from the rare content of the show, it is worth seeing for its overall uncluttered, yet dramatic design. The National Gallery is fortunate to have such people, who all volunteer their services.

PATRICIA CALNAN.