edicts were issued against the reading of it. In 1529 the emperor assembled another Diet at Spires to check the progress of the new opinions: but the result was again favourable to the Reformation. The protesting princes determined to have a common confession of faith drawn up, which was accordingly performed by Melancthon, and, being presented to the Diet of Augsburg, in 1530, was called "The Confession of Augsburg." In 1534 Luther's translation of the whole Bible was published; and the same year he printed a book against the service of the mass. length, worn out more by labour than age, Luther "fell asleep" at Eisleben, his native place, having lived to see his doctrines take such deep root that no earthly power could eradicate them.

At

His closing hours furnished a most remarkable testimony to the truths he had confessed.

He continued to apply himself to business till the 17th February, on which day he felt indisposed, and by the advice of his friends he remained in his study. He frequently walked about the room, and sometimes looked out of the window, praying with much earnestness, as those who were present could perceive. He seemed cheerful, but said to Jonas and Cœlius, "I was born and baptized here at Eisleben, what if I should die in this place!" A person named Sickelius overheard one of his prayers; it was to the following effect: "O Lord God, Heavenly Father, I call upon Thee in the name of Thy beloved Son Jesus Christ our Lord, that according to Thy promise, to the glory of Thy name, thou wouldest mercifully hear my prayers. Since Thou hast delivered me, according to Thy great mercy and loving-kindness, from the apostacy, blindness, and dark. ness of the papacy, before the last day which is now at hand, and hast shown me the light of the Gospel which now shines throughout the world, be pleased to keep the Church of my beloved country unto the end, without falling, in the pure truth, and in the constant and lawful confession of Thy Word, so that all the world may know that I have been sent by Thee. Do this, O Lord, most gracious God. Amen. Amen."

At supper time Luther joined the party that were assembled; during the meal he quoted several important passages of Scripture.

After supper, a pain in his breast, which he had felt during the day, returned, and he asked for warm cloths, but would not consent that the physicians should be called. About nine

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o'clock he laid down upon a couch, and slept for an hour, while Jonas, Coelius, his sons, and several friends, watched by him. At ten o'clock he awoke, and wished his friends to go to rest, which they declined. About half-past eleven he retired to bed. As they conducted him to his chamber, he said, "I go to rest with God;" adding the words of the Psalmist, 'Into Thy hands I commend my spirit:" then, offering his hands to those around him, he bade them good-night, desiring them to pray that God would continue the Gospel to them; "for," added he, "the Pope and the Council at Trent devise mighty things." He laid down, Jonas and some others sleeping in the room with him. About one o'clock he awoke Jonas, and desired that a fire might be made in his study, adding that he was very ill, and felt a great oppression at his chest, and should die at Eisleben. Jonas replied, that God, our Heavenly Father, would help him, through Christ whom he had preached. Luther then went to his study without assistance, again repeating, "Into Thy hands I commend my spirit." There he again walked about; two physicians were sent for, who speedily arrived; also Count Albert, accompanied by his Countess. Various remedies were then applied. His attendants, observing a perspiration commence, told him he would soon be better, but Luther said it was the forerunner of death, and prayed, "O my Heavenly Father, everlasting and merciful God, Thou hast revealed Thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ to me; I have preached in His name, I confess Him before men, I love Him, and worship Him as my beloved Saviour and Redeemer, whom the Pope and other wicked men persecute, revile, and blaspheme. O Lord, receive my soul." He afterwards said, O Heavenly Father, although I am about to leave the body, and am snatched away from this life, yet I certainly know that I am about to dwell with Thee for ever, and that no one can pluck me out of Thy hand." He also repeated a verse of the 68th Psalm, "Our God is the God of whom cometh salvation, and unto God the Lord belong the issues from death." The physicians then proceeded to administer some remedy, which Luther perceiving, said, "I am about to depart;" and thrice rapidly repeated, "Into Thy hands I commend my spirit; Thou hast redeemed me, O God of truth;" adding, "God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." His soul evidently was now about

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to depart, nor did he reply to his friends, although they spoke earnestly to him. The Countess, however, having administered a cordial, he revived sufficiently to reply Yes or No. Jonas and Coelius then addressed him, saying, "Beloved father, you still confess Jesus Christ the Son of God, our Saviour and Redeemer ?" Luther answered, "Yes," so that it could be heard distinctly. He did not speak again, but laid quietly, with his hands clasped, for a quarter of an hour, during which time his attendants saw his features gradually become pale and fixed; at length he breathed a gentle sigh and fell asleep in Jesus, without evincing any pain or suffering at the moment of his departure, which took place between two and three o'clock in the morning of the 18th of February, 1546. He was in the sixty-third year of his age.

*

Thus was fulfilled in Luther the words of our blessed Lord (John viii. 51), "If a man keep My saying he shall never see death." That passage had engaged his attention a few days before, when he wrote the following explana tion of it in a book of devotion: Although these words appear incredible, and contradict our daily experience, yet they are most true. For if any one seriously meditates upon the Word of God in his heart, believes it, and in that faith falls asleep and dies, he departs before he sees or becomes apprehensive of death, and most assuredly he is saved in that Word which he has believed and meditated upon, and in * Com. de Luth. iii. § 133. Sleidan, b. xvi. Melch. Adam. Vit. Luth. p. 74, et seq.

which he departs." To this he signed his name and the date, 7th February, 1546.

Thus Luther lived and died-"a miracle among men," as Melancthon described hima man raised up by God in His good provi dence to shake the world of superstition to its very centre, and to lay again that one Foundation on which alone the superstructure of true religion can be raised-Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

Thus the sacred fire of Protestantism was kindled in Europe, and He who multiplied the widow's oil has kept it burning to this day, and will keep it still, in spite of many a blast from the old quarter, which, aiming at its extinction, has only served to fan its flame.

What is our parting moral? Hold fast that which thou hast; let no man take thy crown." Take Guizot's pathetic advice to England, when he shed a grateful exile's tears on our national hospitality to the unfortunate 'Keep your faith-be faithful to the example and tradition of your ancestors, and I trust that God will pour upon you and your country the most abundant blessing!"

16

And beware too not only of open and avowed enemies and apostates, but of the Ahithophels and Judases who "dip the hand with you in the dish, and lift up their heels against you." Beware of "false brethren unawares brought in, who come in privily to spy out our liberty which we have in Christ Jesus, that they might bring us into bondage: to whom we give place by subjection, no, not for an hour; that the truth of the Gospel might continue with us."

ARE to be right, dare to be true; You have a work that no other can do; Do it so bravely, so kindly, so well, As to gladden all Heaven and silence all hell! Dare to be right, dare to be true; Other men's failures can never save you. Stand by your conscience, your honour, your faith;

Stand like a hero, and battle till death.

Dare to be right, dare to be true;
Keep the great judgment-day always in view.
Look at your work as you'll look at it then,
Scanned by Jehovah, and angels, and men.

Dare to be right, dare to be true;

God who created you cares for you too; Wipes off the tears that His striving ones shed;

Counts and protects every hair of your head.

Dare to be right, dare to be true;
Cannot Omnipotence carry you through?
City and mansion, and Throne all in view,
Cannot you dare to be right and be true?
Dare to be right, dare to be true;
Prayerfully, lovingly, firmly pursue
The pathway by saint and by seraphim trod;
The pathway which leads to the City of God.

April 9.-S. Gregory Nazianzen, Bishop and

I

Doctor.

IN the name of our Lord Christ, and all His saints, and especially of our Lady His Mother, patroness of this our Abbey of Marienthal, I, Bartholomew, a poor brother in the same venerable Abbey, governed according to the genuine and original rule of the holy Benedict, have undertaken to write a history from day to day of the things which mine eyes shall see and mine ears hear.

The thought of this chronicle has visited me frequently of late, often intruding on my hours of holy meditation: for which reason I endeavoured to scare it away as a presumptuous suggestion from the Enemy; but seeing that, in spite of all my conjurations and crossings and repetitions of the Pater Noster and the Sacred Hours, it hath continued to force itself upon me (being even spoken to me in visions by the holy Benedict himself), I have concluded it to be a good thought, well-pleasing to the saints; and have therefore resolved on executing it, and leaving these my humble memorials as a legacy to the Abbey, knowing that the common incidents of to-day are often as a strange and pleasant tale to those that come after: since which determination, my meditations have been no more disturbed-a further proof that the project is not from below.

In order to accomplish this design, parchment being somewhat costly, I have procured from the Prior the copy of an old manuscript, which none of us can read-not even our learned brother Lupacius, who has studied at Paris. The labour of effacing the former characters was great, they being carefully and thickly written; but I was cheered in my toil by the thought that I was destroying some of the works of the Evil One, the letters being of a very hideous and diabolical form, square and three-cornered, and very black, speckled moreover with a countless multitude of dots which skipped around them like wicked imps, making so ugly a confusion as no Christian could look at long without danger of distraction, much less have made. In every page, therefore, however I may fill it, it is a marvellous consolation to me to reflect that I am tilling so much ground reclaimed from the infidel.

I have lived all my life within the walls of the Abbey, and of the world beyond I know even as little as the Israelites did of the Promised Land when they believed the spies. Of my father and mother I know nothing, nor do any of the brethren. I was found one winter morning, a helpless infant, lying on the threshold of the convent, wrapped in a few rags, with a label importing that my mother and father were dead, and entreating the holy brethren, for the love of God, to bring up

the orphan, and teach him to offer masses for the souls of his parents.

At first, I have heard, the monks were sorely puzzled how to handle or what to do with me.

An especial convocation was convened, in which it was determined to feed and cherish me as they would any other young and tender thing; and, after being baptized, I was assigned to the guardians of the hospital, with a room for my special use. But, one after another, the patience of the holy men was wearied out with my ceaseless cries and complainings, until it was resolved to commit me to the keeping of a respectable peasant woman in our village, called Magdalis Schröder. With her I grew to a healthy and merry boy, but the good monks always insist that the suavity of my temper at present is nothing less than a miracle, considering that so unmanageable and ill-natured a babe was never

seen.

In my youth I had occasionally strong desires to see something of the world beyond our valley, that before my profession I might know what I was renouncing; but the brotherhood always withheld me, saying that such a wish was like Eve's desire to be made wise by eating of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil-that in the world nothing was to be learnt but evil, and in the convent the knowledge of good. Their will was everything to me, and I unresistingly acquiesced; but I have often since thought that the evil lies nearer home, and that if I had to choose, I would not fly for refuge to a monastery. But what am I saying? The holy Benedict pardon me! All I mean is, that if, as they say, the earth is the same everywhere, as the heart certainly is, perhaps the Heavens are also the same, and as near. I say this to Mother Magdalis sometimes, when she groans under her burdens and cares; yet, for myself, I have no wish to change. Here I have lived, and here, if the Lord and the Abbot will it so, will I die.

Nevertheless, I was not always so content. At one time, when I was young, my heart felt strong, and fluttered for freedom, as the Prior's birds flutter in the spring, or as the young buds throw off their casings in the forest on an April morning, and tremble and open in the sun and the warm winds.

I used to go often and visit my foster-mother. She is a widow, but she has two children-the best, she says, a poor widow ever had. It is true, Karl is a little wrong-headed and fiery now and then, but Nannerl, certainly every

one must agree there are not many like her. It was not because of her large violet-blue eyes, and her fresh colour, like a rose-if a rose could change hue as she does (of such things I am no judge)-she was a strong and healthy maiden, and that is enough-but for truth and goodness, and singleness of heart, I never saw any like her. She was like a manuscript of a Psalm of thanksgiving, illuminated all round with holy images in fair colours, so joyous and in harmony. I often thought, when I looked at her, of the blessed words, "If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light" so full of light, pleasant, cheering, fireside light was she within and without. I never passed her mother's cottage any morning, how early soever-and I passed it oftenbut she was up before me, getting her brother's breakfast, or doing her mother's work, with her bright morning face, and her pleasant words.

Now it came to pass, when I went one evening to the cottage with a basket of broken meat from the Abbey, I thought they all seemed happier than usual; Nannerl's face was brighter than ever, but it seemed to be shining with some hidden joy. At length, when she left the room to put aside the con. tents of the basket, Mother Magdalis told me there was to be a wedding in the familyyoung Hans Reichardt, the Abbey carpenter, had asked Nannerl's hand. They had, she said, liked one another long; and before many weeks they would probably be coming to the Abbey church together.

I could not exactly comprehend why Mag dalis should make such a festival of this; I could not tell why, but I had never much admired young Reichardt, yet I congratulated them all as honestly as I could.

"It is a good providence," said my fostermother. "I am old, and the children have no father, and it is a blessed thing for them to have a home."

Nannerl's face glowed with quiet pleasure when I wished her joy of her new prospects. I did feel glad at their joy, but somehow I was less at home there that evening than I had ever been before-I felt left out of the circle. Hans Reichardt came to see his bride, and I took my departure early. Mother Magdalis's words rang in my ears, "It is a blessed thing

to have a home." Home!-the word came to my heart with a new meaning that evening. It means very much; and for the first time I felt this the convent could never be; a shelter

from wind and rain it might be-a refuge for the weary-a refectory for the hungry-a place to eat and sleep and live in-but home meant something more.

Who had shut me out from this? Who had a right to say that this world, this holy thing, might never be mine?

For many days these things rankled in my heart; and sad havoc they made there. Till then, I had not a want beyond the convent walls and the society of the brethren: now, my heart had looked beyond the old walls, and they girded me in like a prison. I was not then bound by any vows, and it was well.

I did not venture to tell any of the brethren what I felt; I did not believe it to be sin, but I knew they would all misunderstand me.

This lasted until one of our evening Scripture readings; for in our convent we still adhere to the rule of reading through a portion of the Scriptures in the winter evenings. I seated myself among the rest, prepared to be once more a weary listener to the oft-told tale. (Alas! how little I knew of its blessed meaning!) The reader stood at his desk, intoning the words in his lulling sing-song; the appointed monk went his rounds with the lantern, to see that none of us fell asleep. The monotonous voice of the reader-the uniform tread of the lantern-bearer-the monotonous recurrence of convent duties-all grated like So many instruments of torture on my impatient heart. In health, we do not notice habitual sights and sounds; but in a fever, the slow dropping of water from the eaves seems at each fall to eat into the brain. And this, I thought, is to be for life! My heart sickened and sank under the intolerable burden of countless to-morrows, all like to-day. And beside this weary circle of fruitless toil arose the haunting thought of home--fresh springs of love, ever fresh-life, growing, widening, deepening, day by day, around us, and all centring in that inner sanctuary of love, the home.

I was aroused from my dreams and murmurs by some words from the Gospel, which fell on my ear suddenly, as if I heard them for the first time:

"For even the Son of Man came not to be ministered untó, but to minister, and to give His life a ransom for many."

For the first time, the idea of self-sacrifice came to me with all the exalted joy the thought can bring the thought of laying down myself,

my life, for others. I arose from that evening reading strengthened and refreshed, for I had a purpose and life is never quite barren to us if we have one living purpose to sow in it, to grow and to bring forth fruit.

The thought of His life took possession of me. I longed, I prayed, I strove to be made like Him-the holy Child Jesus-like Him who went about doing good.

I made a collection in the convent, to furnish Nannerl's house-I laboured in the convent garden to rear vegetables for the sick-I travelled leagues through the pine forests, in the frost and snow, to visit them; but the more I read of the life of Jesus, the more unattainable the perfect Model seemed. Are not the stars as far from the mountains as from the valleys? The more I heard of the law of God, the more I saw how far it carried its claims upon the heart; and the heart was precisely the thing which all my efforts could not reach.

I could labour for the sick, I could toil and plead for Nannerl and her husband, but I could not expel the repining thought from my heart when I came back from her bright fireside to these dull, cold, convent walls.

But yet again God came to me and completed the work He had begun. The second part of my text healed the wound the first had made. How strange it was that I did not see it all at once:-

"The Son of Man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give His life a ranson for many.”

me.

The ransom is needed-for whom? Surely, for the sentenced criminal-for those who, not being able to fulfil the perfect law, can read in it nothing but their condemnation-that is, for The ransom is paid-for whom? Surely for those who need it. The ransom is paid; then the prisoner is free. I am free! "There is now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus." It is faith in this which gives strength to walk, not in the flesh, but in the Spirit.

From that time my whole life has been changed. Jesus, the Son of God, the Lamb of God, our Ransom, our Pattern, our Friend, He has redeemed me-I am His, and His cause is mine. The self-denial, which had been impossible as a sacrifice of expiation, became the joy of my life as a sacrifice of thanksgiving. With the eye of Him who died for us-and, dying, saved us-watching our lives, what is not possible? I learned that, before we can be