Return to Wittenberg
Luther entered Wittenberg again on Friday, March 7. Doctors, students and people, all alike rejoiced.
He preached the following Sunday, and crowds flocked to the parish church to hear their much-loved pastor again. Very gently he dealt with his flock — he called them “his own sheep” — telling them that “violence can never propagate the gospel; that must be done by the Word of God alone.”
All were delighted. Schurff wrote to the Elector, “Oh, what joy has Dr. Martin’s return diffused among us! His words through Divine mercy are every day bringing back our poor misguided people into the way of truth. It is clear that the Spirit of God is in him, and that by His special providence he returned to Wittenberg.”
The tumult subsided, and quiet reigned. Liberty of conscience was established. Luther continued to reside in the convent, and to wear his monk’s dress, but everyone was free to do otherwise. The rule was laid down that nothing should be rejected unless it were in opposition to the Holy Scriptures.
Tranquility having been restored, Luther sought Melancthon’s assistance in finally revising his translation of the New Testament. The printing was carried on with great zeal. Three presses were employed, and 10,000 sheets printed daily.
On September 21, 1522, the first edition appeared. In a short time the whole of the 3,000 copies issued were sold. A second edition followed in December.
In vain the Pope and princes burned the Scriptures and forbade their circulation. The demand increased, and by the close of 1533 fifty-eight editions had been printed. Duke George said: “Even after I had prohibited the sale, many thousand copies were sold and read in my States.”
The New Testament having been finished, Luther commenced and carried on a translation of the Old Testament. Henry VIII, the King of England, had Luther’s writings burned, and wrote a book against the reformer, in which he called him a wolf and a viper. This so pleased the Pope that he conferred upon Henry the title of “Defender of the Faith,” a title still borne by the kings and queens of England.
Leo X died while Luther was in the Wartburg, and the new Pope was named Adrian VI.
But burning books could not stay the progress of the truth. Monks continued to leave their cells, and became preachers, colporteurs, or engaged in daily toil. The colporteurs traveled throughout Germany, selling Bibles and tracts to the people; and preachers in the open air proclaimed the glad tidings of salvation.
Bitter persecutions now commenced. Duke George imprisoned the monks and priests who followed Luther. At Brussels, the first martyrs of the Reformation laid down their lives. Three young monks, named Henry Voes, John Esch, and Lambert Thorn, were led in chains to that city. When asked whether they would retract, they replied: “No; we will retract nothing; we will not disown God’s Word; we will rather die for the faith.” Esch and Voes were burned; and Lambert, who was terrified at the prospect of death, was taken back to prison; but soon he boldly confessed his faith, and died like his brethren.
Luther felt deeply for these noble young men, and composed the following verses in commemoration of their death:
No, no! their ashes shall not die!
But, borne to every land,
Where’er their sainted dust shall fall,
Up springs a holy band.
Though Satan by his might may kill,
And stop their powerful voice,
They triumph o’er him in their death,
And still in Christ rejoice.
In July, 1523, Adrian VI died, and Clement VII was elected Pope.
Many of the German princes now embraced the cause of the Reformation, among whom was Philip, the Landgrave of Hesse, who said: “Rather would I sacrifice my body, my life, my estates, and my subjects, than the Word of God.” These princes favored the preaching of the gospel in their States, and boldly opposed the efforts of the papal party. The partisans of Rome became more and more enraged against the truth, and two rival camps began to be formed in the empire.
Dreadful scenes were now witnessed in Germany. The peasants, who for ages had been cruelly oppressed, had risen against the nobles. In vain Luther had written to them from the Wartburg, saying: “Rebellion never obtains for us the benefits we seek, and God condemns it. The devil is striving to excite to rebellion those who embrace the gospel, in order to cover it with reproach; but those who have rightly understood my doctrine do not revolt.” Despite his warning, the peasants rose, and fearful cruelties were committed. No mercy was shown, and day by day things grew more alarming. At length two decisive battles were fought on one day, May 15, 1525, and the insurrection was subdued. Upward of fifty thousand perished.
Luther struggled hard against this rebellion. He prayed, he wrote, and, while the disturbances were still at their height, he traveled through the country calming men’s minds and bringing them into subjection to the Word of God. None of the Elector’s subjects rebelled.
The aged and pious Elector, the friend of Luther and the Reformation, died on May 5, 1524. Just before his death he destroyed a will in which he had commended his soul to the Virgin Mary, and dictated another, in which he cast himself entirely upon the merits of Jesus Christ.
Frederick was succeeded by his brother John, who was a firm friend of the Reformation.
On June 13, 1525, Luther married Catherine Bora (Katharina von Bora). The wedding took place in the house of his friend, Amsdorff.
Two years previously, a group of nine nuns lived in the convent of Nimptsch, near Grimma, in Saxony. While diligently reading the Scriptures, they realized their mistake in trying to serve God by shutting themselves away from the world. They wrote to their parents, saying, “The salvation of our souls will not permit us to remain any longer in a cloister,” but their parents refused to receive them. Feeling in their own consciences that they ought not to remain, they left the nunnery in two wagons provided by friends. Knowing that they would find a friend in Luther, they stopped at the gate of his monastery at Wittenberg. “This is not my doing,” he said, as he received them, and rejoiced at their escape.
Several persons offered to receive the nuns into their houses, and Catherine Bora, who was one of them, found a home with the family of the burgomaster of Wittenberg.
At that time Luther had no intention of marrying, and recommended Catherine as a wife to two of his friends. But his father urged him to marry, and, after much serious thought, he said, “I am determined to bear witness to the gospel, not by my words alone but by my actions. I’ll content my father, and marry Catherine.” At the time of his marriage he was living alone in the convent at Wittenberg, and had laid aside the dress and name of a monk.
John, the Elector of Saxony, made the convent a present to Luther and his wife for a dwelling-house.
He was very happy in his marriage. “His dear and amiable Kertha,” as he called Catherine, made him a good wife. She loved him much; and when he was dejected, she would console him by repeating passages of Scripture; she also worked his portrait in embroidery.
About a year after their marriage they had a son, whom they called John, and the next year a daughter, who was named Magdalen. In all they had six children. The old convent became a joyous home, and often Luther and his Kertha would be seen sitting in the window, overlooking their beautiful garden, singing together sweet songs of praise. He was very fond of music.
But a dark cloud rested upon the bright and happy household. When fourteen years old, Magdalen became very ill, and died. Luther was overcome. Speaking of her, he said, “I love her well; but oh, my God, if it be Thy will to take her home, I must resign myself to Thee.” When she was very near death, her father read to her from the twenty-sixth chapter of Isaiah and, falling upon his knees at her bedside, he wept bitterly, and entreated God to save her. She died in his arms, in the presence of her mother. He often exclaimed, “God’s will be done! My daughter has still a Father in heaven.”
Philip Melancthon comforted his friend in this hour of sorrow.
I’ve lost the child I held so dear,
Nor can I check the flowing tear:
But when I view Thy mercy-seat,
My meditation shall be sweet.
‘Tis true I weep, but thou hast smiled;
Safe in Thy arms faith sees my child;
I flee to Thee, my loved retreat,
And meditation shall be sweet.