The Christian Testimony Through the Ages

Innumerable books have been written on the history of the Church, and it might seem that another is superfluous. Most of these works, however, are out of print and many are difficult to obtain. Not everyone has the time or opportunity to read the number of books necessary to trace the story of the Christian testimony. For these reasons the writer felt that the results of his own study of this profitable and interesting subject, presented in a condensed form, would be welcomed by many.

If the writer succeeds in conveying in any measure to the reader the profit and instruction which he has gained in his own study of this great subject, he will feel amply repaid, and if any who read these pages are stimulated by the faith and example of those who have gone before in the great race, his object will have been attained. May God, to whom be all the glory, add His blessing.

T. W. Carron/

Introduction

The coming into the world of the Son of God was an event without parallel in the history of mankind. Even from the viewpoint of the secular historian, it is an event which has had tremendous consequences, for it changed the current of history. The Christian historian sees it from another aspect. He views it in relation to the purposes and counsels of the Author of all things. He looks at it in the stupendous context of eternity, in comparison with which the history of man shrinks into insignificance. Even the physical universe, vast and wonderful as it is, is to pass away, and all the doings of the great and mighty of this world will finally be lost in eternal oblivion. To view Christianity as a factor in human history—to view it even as the greatest factor — is one thing; to realize that it transcends history itself is another matter altogether. But this is the true viewpoint, for its origin is in the counsels of God in eternity past, while its effects are to endure to the glory of God and the blessing of millions of His creatures in eternity to come.

In the awful darkness of a world sunk in superstition and idolatry, vice and cruelty, Christianity arose like the dawn of a new, glorious day. The divine fiat “Let there be light” that went forth to dispel the darkness that once covered the earth had its counterpart in the first century of our era. Well might the angel who appeared to the shepherds in the hills of Judea on that memorable night say, “I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11).

The brief but pregnant Pauline phrase “the testimony of the Christ” (1 Cor. 1:6 JND) is an apt definition of Christianity. Sustained by a power no less than that of the Spirit of God, this testimony has continued down the ages. The world has never received it or the world would not be what it is today. Opposed by the powers of hell, resisted by human potentates, insulted by the worldly, ridiculed by the wise, flattered by imitators, it has flourished during nineteen centuries. Strongest when most opposed, weakest when smiled on by the world, it has triumphed over all obstacles because, although perpetuated in frail human vessels, its light is divine and its power not of men.

To trace, if briefly, this history, to follow its vicissitudes, its sufferings, its triumphs, its waxing and waning, to learn something about the faithful witnesses who have labored and suffered and ofttimes died for the “faith which was once delivered unto the saints” (Jude 3), and to see how this precious heritage has, by divine grace, been preserved to us down to this day is our object in the following pages.

Christendom is not Christianity. The Lord once likened the kingdom of heaven to a grain of mustard seed, which is exceedingly small, but when grown, it becomes a tree in which the birds of the air can find roosting places (Matt. 13:2430). From the gospel seed there has grown up a vast religious system which bears the Christian name but is, in character, no different from the world — a system, indeed, which has become one of the features of the world and which has harbored, and still harbors, all kinds of evil — a system which Satan has used to destroy men’s souls and which ambitious men have used to glorify themselves instead of God.

It is not, however, the history of Christendom we wish to trace, but of the true faith which Christendom has often opposed. Yet the two cannot be entirely disentangled, for while in the first three centuries Christians had to struggle against heathen persecution, thereafter the opposition came from those within the pale of Christendom—from the religious leaders themselves. Some were misguided zealots; some simply wolves in sheep’s clothing. Behind this lay the cunning artifices of the devil, whose intention was to corrupt what he had failed to destroy. Yet what he could not corrupt became, through his influence, the object of hatred and persecution.

The Lord had given warning of this admixture of the false and the true in the clearest terms when He uttered the parable of the wheat and tares (Matt. 13:24-30) in which He made it perfectly clear that the enemy would introduce among true believers those who, like the tares, bore a mere outward resemblance to the true but in themselves were false and worthless. But the words of the divine Author of the faith could not fail. “Upon this rock I will build My church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matt. 16:18). His Church continues to this day, outwardly lost in the confusion of sects and systems but still one body composed of every true believer, indwelt by the one Spirit.

Chapter 1

About six hundred years before the birth of Christ Nebuchadnezzar destroyed Jerusalem and transported the bulk of its inhabitants to Babylon. His empire was short-lived; within the space of seventy years the Babylonian Empire was overthrown by the Medes and Persians under the leadership of Cyrus. One of his first acts was to give all the Jews liberty to return to their own land, thereby fulfilling the prophecy of Jeremiah (Jer. 25:11-12). But Cyrus went further; he ordained that the temple should be rebuilt at Jerusalem and its vessels, which had lain so long in Babylon, should be restored to their place. Only a proportion of the Jews availed themselves of this liberty. The rest remained scattered throughout the Medo-Persian Empire, as we learn from the book of Esther. The temple was rebuilt, the worship of God was restored, and later, in the days of Nehemiah, the walls of Jerusalem were rebuilt.

This took place in 455 B.C. in accordance with a decree of Artaxerxes I. There is a remarkable link between this and the coming of Christ, for the prophet Daniel had predicted that from the time of the decree to rebuild the city of Jerusalem and its wall there should be a period of 483 years to the coming of Christ (Dan. 9:25). This prophecy was fulfilled to the letter when our Lord rode into Jerusalem in the year 29 A.D. on the foal of an ass, the very manner of His entry being foretold by the prophet Zechariah (Zech. 9:9).

For a time, under the Medo-Persian Empire, the Jews prospered in their land, but during the course of the Grecian Empire a time of trouble ensued. Antiochus Epiphanes defiled the temple and bitterly persecuted the Jews. A long and painful struggle followed in which the Jews had to fight for their national existence. Extraordinary successes often attended their arms, until they finally received the protection of Rome under Julius Caesar. The much-tried Jewish nation then enjoyed a period of rest which lasted about one hundred years.

It was during the reign of Augustus, the second of the Caesars, that our Lord was born. What was the condition of the world then? It was a time of comparative peace, for the Roman legions dominated the civilized world. But it was a time of awful moral darkness. It has been said that “two phrases sum up the characteristics of the Roman civilization in the days of the empire —heartless cruelty and unfathomable corruption.” There were millions of slaves who were without any rights at all and who were largely at the mercy of their masters. Little better off were the masses of free poor, for the most part beggars and idlers whose lives were spent in squalor, misery and vice. In contrast with these was a comparatively small class of wealthy whose days were occupied with reckless extravagance and riotous living. “Gluttony, caprice, ostentation and impurity rioted in the heart of a society which knew of no other means by which to break the monotony of its weariness or alleviate the anguish of its despair. Amusement was provided by the shameless vulgarity of the theater or the abominable cruelty of the games in which men fought for their lives against wild beasts or with one another.” Superstition and idolatry spread their dark veil over the masses; the learned and intelligent, while professing to honor the popular gods, were skeptics at heart whose real religion was a despairing fatalism. The Apostle Paul has left on the inspired page his own solemn description of a world that had turned its back on God. (See Romans 1:28-32.)

A little light lingered still among the Jews, for they had at least the letter of the oracles of God, and there were some, as the New Testament clearly shows, who led pious lives. The opening chapters of Luke give us a glimpse of such persons. The picture of the eunuch crossing the desert and reading, on his way, the book of prophet Isaiah, as he returned from a visit to the temple, and the God-fearing centurion, Cornelius, who prayed and gave alms, show us that even among the Gentiles were those who were seeking the true God.

Among the Jews themselves had grown up the hard legalism of the Pharisees who laid upon men’s shoulders their intolerable burdens and were inflated by religious pride, while their hearts, as the Lord testifies, were full of evil and uncleanness. On the other hand, there were the Sadducees who were mere materialists, denying the resurrection and teaching that there were neither angels nor spirits.

Such was the state of the world when Christ was born. The night could hardly have been darker than it was when that great light dawned upon mankind.

Chapter 2

We have four inspired accounts of the life, death and resurrection of our Lord. Each of the four evangelists presents these great matters from a different standpoint. Matthew presents Jesus as the Messiah, the King come in fulfillment of the promises of God to Israel. Mark describes the life of Jesus as the Son of God, the perfect Servant carrying out the will of God. Luke gives us the Manhood of Jesus in its holy perfection. John presents Him as the Word become flesh and brings into relief His deity as well as His humanity, His eternal personality and His divine sonship.

Let us briefly review Luke’s account. From chapter one it is clear that the light of the knowledge of God had not been entirely extinguished in Israel, for we have a beautiful account of certain pious persons who looked for the fulfillment of these divine promises which at this time found their answer in the advent of Jesus.

Luke describes the visit of the angel to the virgin Mary with the stupendous announcement, “Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favor with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a Son, and shalt call His name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called Son of the Highest; and the Lord God shall give unto Him the throne of His father David ... Then said Mary unto the angel, How shall this be, seeing I know not a man? And the angel answered and said unto her, The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God” (Luke 1:30-35).

The inspired historian tells us of the census decreed by Caesar Augustus which, according to Roman custom, took Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem that their names might be enrolled in the records of their native city, thereby fulfilling the remarkable prophecy of Micah: “Thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall He come forth unto Me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting” (Micah 5:2).

Luke alone of the inspired historians gives us that glimpse of the boyhood of Jesus when found by His parents in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking questions, and His answer to their pained inquiries, “Did ye not know that I ought to be occupied in My Father’s business?” (Luke 2:49 JND).

Thirty years were spent in humble obscurity, living the lowly life of a working man in the despised village of Nazareth — little noticed indeed by men but observed by God, who at the end of those thirty years opened the heavens to declare the pleasure that He had found in Him.

It was then time for His public appearance and service. And He did not appear unheralded. John the Baptist, a man, who, as Luke tells us, was prepared of God for this great mission, came forward as the herald and forerunner of Christ to prepare the way for Him. Many listened to his preaching and were baptized in the Jordan. Jesus identified Himself with these repentant ones by entering the water with them. As He came up out of the water praying, there occurred that act of divine recognition already referred to. The Spirit of God Himself took on, for the moment, the visible appearance of a dove and descended upon Him, while simultaneously the heavens were opened and the voice of God was heard, saying, “Thou art My beloved Son; in Thee I am well pleased” (Luke 3:22). God thus publicly acknowledged the relationship in which Jesus stood to Himself and expressed His delight in the One who for thirty years had lived a life entirely pleasurable to Him.

We are then given an account of the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness and His victory over Satan. For the first time in the world’s history Satan had met a Man whom he could not corrupt. Jesus then began His public service. Three and a half years were spent in ceaseless labor, teaching in the synagogues, teaching and preaching in the open air to great multitudes, healing the sick, opening the eyes of the blind, opening the ears of the deaf, cleansing lepers, casting out demons, raising the dead, and performing many other miracles. His words brought comfort to the sorrowing, solace to the poor, forgiveness to repentant sinners, and hope to the afflicted. But His words also went home in convicting power to the consciences of men, which angered the proud, but brought contrite hearts to repentance.

He chose twelve to be with Him, whom He trained for a great and wonderful mission, that of spreading the truth of the gospel when He Himself should have left the world. Enshrined in His sayings, in His parables and in His teachings were the essential truths of Christianity, little comprehended then even by His disciples, but to be unfolded and illuminated by the Holy Spirit when He should come after the death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus. Incomprehensible to His disciples were those mysterious references to His sufferings and death and rising again. They looked for a Messiah who should restore to Israel its kingdom and glory, and even after His resurrection, the two whom He met on the way to Emmaus confessed that they thought He was about to establish His kingdom. Yet, as He said, the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give His life a ransom for many.

The hostility of the religious leaders increased in proportion as His popularity with the people grew. With credentials greater than any prophet Israel had ever known, marked by lowliness and meekness, just in every word, and righteous in all His acts, Jesus met with nothing but opposition and hatred from the Jewish hierarchy. They plotted His destruction, and one of His own disciples, lured by love of gain, was prepared to deliver Him into their hands.

On the eve of the Passover He was taken and brought before the High Priest and the elders and condemned as an impostor. Brought before Pilate, the Roman governor found nothing criminal in Him, yet in base indifference to elementary justice, he gave Him over to the will of His enemies, acceding to their request to crucify Him.

We arrive at the greatest crisis in the world’s history. There was never a moment like it — the Son of God hanging upon a cross, the culmination of man’s hatred and human iniquity. When presented with perfect goodness and truth and grace in Christ, the world said, “Crucify Him”! Why did God allow it? Because Jesus was the Lamb of God who was to take away the sin of the world. The Passover then being prepared was a type (ordained of God nearly fifteen hundred years before) of the sacrificial death of Christ. As the Apostle John puts it, “God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).

The cross of Christ is a marvelous contemplation. There we see the love of God in giving His beloved Son. There we see the love of Christ in delivering Himself up as the spotless victim, giving His life for sinners, enduring the judgment of a holy God against sin. Such was the terrible nature of sin that God could not overlook it. He must express His righteous judgment — His holy abhorrence —of sin. If this fell upon sinful man, it must be the end of him. One was needed holy and perfect and great enough in Himself to bear the judgment and exhaust it. Only One who was God could do this; only a Man could make atonement for the human race. Jesus alone could do it. His name proclaims both who He is and what He does, for Jesus means Jehovah the Saviour. And as John says, “He is the propitiation for our sins; but not for ours alone, but also for the whole world” (1 John 2:2 JND).

So the Saviour died; loving hands removed His body from the cross. He was buried. The sorrowing disciples went away wondering and despairing, their hopes dashed to the ground. Perhaps they had thought God would intervene even at the last moment. Devoted lovers brought spices on the third day to the tomb, but it was empty. Angels announced the resurrection of Jesus. “Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen: remember how He spake unto you when He was yet in Galilee, saying, The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again” (Luke 24:57).

He appeared to Peter, Mary Magdalene and others. Then he met two disciples on the road to Emmaus. They failed to recognize Him till, having accepted their invitation to sup with them, He was disclosed to them as He took the bread and gave thanks. Then He vanished from their sight and they returned to Jerusalem and found the eleven disciples gathered together, saying, “The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon. And they told what things were done in the way, and how He was known of them in breaking of bread. And as they thus spake, Jesus Himself stood in the midst of them, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you” (Luke 24:34-36).

Luke, continuing his account in the Acts of the Apostles, tells us how Jesus showed Himself alive after His passion by many infallible proofs, being seen by the disciples during forty days and speaking of the things concerning the kingdom of God. Then one day He led them out to the Mount of Olives and was carried up into heaven from the midst of them, a cloud receiving Him out of their sight. And while they were still gazing heavenward, two angels appeared, saying, “Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11). This was forty days after His resurrection. And here we pause to comment that the second coming of Christ, as promised by the angels, a personal, visible coming, is an essential feature of the Christian faith. “Behold, He cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see Him” (Rev. 1:7).

Chapter 3

Ten days had elapsed since the disciples had watched the Lord ascend from the Mount of Olives. Those ten days were spent in continual prayer. The day of Pentecost having come, they were all together in one place, when there came suddenly out of heaven the sound of a mighty, rushing wind which filled all the house where they were sitting. “And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance” (Acts 2:34).

Many Jews had come up to Jerusalem for the feast of Pentecost and these spoke the languages of the lands in which they had been born and bred. The gift of tongues imparted by the Holy Spirit enabled the disciples to speak to these people in their own languages. Many came together to hear, and this gave Peter the opportunity to address the crowd. It was the first preaching of the Christian gospel. The Apostle fearlessly addressed the multitude, showing that the Jesus whom they had so recently crucified was their true Messiah and that God had raised Him from the dead as promised in the prophetic Scriptures. His concluding words, “God hath made that same Jesus, whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ” (Acts 2:36), created a profound impression. They asked what they should do. “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost” (Acts 2:38) was the answer. Three thousand accepted Christian baptism that day and were added to the Church which had been formed by the descent of the Holy Spirit. This was the beginning of the Christian Church. Of those who then formed it it is said, “They persevered in the teaching and fellowship of the apostles, in breaking of bread and prayers” (Acts 2:42 JND). Many, no doubt, returned to their adopted lands in various parts of the Roman Empire taking with them this joyous news that at last the long-looked-for Messiah had come and, although rejected and crucified, had been raised from the dead, and He was now a living and glorified Man in heaven.

The writer of the Acts of the Apostles tells us of the events which followed in Jerusalem. A lame beggar sitting at one of the gates of the temple, looking for alms from Peter and John, received something far better. Peter said to him, “Silver and gold I have not; but what I have, this give I to thee: In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazaraean rise up and walk” (Acts 3:6 JND). A moment later he was seen, to the amazement of the onlookers, going with them into the temple, “walking, and leaping, and praising God” (vs. 8). Peter then preached a powerful word to the crowd which quickly gathered. The chief priests arriving at this moment on the scene, the two apostles were arrested. There were further conversions and the number of men had already grown to five thousand. Their examination the next day by the rulers and elders afforded a further opportunity for a bold testimony on Peter’s part.

Luke gives us this beautiful description of the Church in its original simplicity and moral beauty:

“The heart and soul of the multitude of those that had believed were one, and not one said that anything of what he possessed was his own, but all things were common to them. ... For neither was there anyone in want among them; for as many as were owners of lands or houses, selling them, brought the price of what was sold and laid it at the feet of the apostles; and distribution was made to each according as anyone might have need” (Acts 4:32-35 JND).

Numbers further increased — multitudes both of men and women were added to the Lord. Many miracles were performed by the apostles. Sick persons were brought out into the streets in beds and couches in the hope that at least the shadow of Peter might cover them. Not only from Jerusalem itself but from the surrounding country came the sick and devil-possessed, and all were healed.

The official priesthood now became desperate and imprisoned the apostles, but they were released by an angel. On being again arrested, they were once more found preaching the gospel. No threats having availed to stop them, the authorities finally listened to the wise advice of Gamaliel — an eminent man among them — who counseled that they should be left alone, saying that if the matter were of men it would fail, and if of God they could not resist it.

Some of the Jews having disputed with Stephen, who, though not an apostle, is described as a man “full of grace and power” (Acts 6:8 JND), and being unable to resist the wisdom and power with which he spoke, falsely accused him of blasphemous words and of speaking against the temple and the law. His powerful defense and martyrdom are recorded in chapter seven of the Acts. He was stoned to death — the first martyr for the Christian faith. His last words, uttered in the spirit of his Master, were, “Lord, lay not this sin to their charge” (Acts 7:60).

A fierce persecution ensued, and the Church in Jerusalem, with the exception of the apostles themselves, was scattered throughout the surrounding country. But the scattering spread the gospel all the more. Through the labors of Philip a large number were converted in Samaria. At this time a eunuch from the court of the Ethiopian queen was crossing the desert in a chariot, having been to Jerusalem to worship. Philip was told by the Spirit of God to approach the chariot. Divine providence had timed the meeting, for at that very moment the eunuch was reading Isaiah 53, which prophesies so touchingly of the sufferings of Christ. Philip thus had his text already prepared and preached Jesus as the One of whom the prophet wrote. The eunuch believed at once, was baptized in some water close at hand, and went on his way rejoicing. Who can say what results flowed from that first conversation among the sons of Ham?

Present at the stoning of Stephen was Saul of Tarsus, then a young man, who in the energy of Pharisaical zeal soon became a leader in the persecution of Christians. Having obtained a commission from the High Priest, he went to Damascus to discover and apprehend any disciples he might find there.

At noon, as he approached the city, a light, brighter than the meridian brilliance of the eastern sun, shone upon him, and falling to the earth he heard a voice from heaven saying, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me?”

“Who art Thou, Lord?” he replied.

“I am Jesus,” answered the heavenly Speaker (Acts 9:45).

The arch-persecutor was subdued at once. The greatest enemy of Christ was won by divine grace and was soon to become His most devoted servant.

Another event is then recorded which marked a turning point in the early history of the Church. The Lord had committed to Peter the keys of the kingdom of heaven (not the keys of the Church, for such a thing is never spoken of). This was a figurative way of saying that to Peter would be given the privilege of opening the door into Christian privileges by the preaching of the gospel. This he did on the day of Pentecost when three thousand Jews were converted. Peter was now to open the door to the Gentiles.

It is evident that up to this time Jewish believers still felt that Christianity was especially for them, and no doubt they regarded Gentile believers as proselytes. God prepared Peter for this important, fresh departure in His ways. A pious centurion named Cornelius had seen an angel in a vision and had been told to send for one named Peter staying then at Joppa with Simon a tanner. Just as the messengers from Cornelius were about to arrive, Peter too had a vision and saw in a great sheet let down from heaven all manner of creatures which to the Jew were unclean. And Peter was told that what God had cleansed he was not to call unclean. When, therefore, the men arrived, he was prepared to go with them to the Gentile house and preach the gospel to Cornelius and a company of friends. When he had done so, in order that no doubt might remain, the Spirit of God came upon the assembled company, giving distinct evidence of His presence. When Peter was questioned as to his going in and eating with Gentiles, he had an unanswerable reply. God had received the Gentiles on the same ground as the Jews — belief on the Lord Jesus Christ. The coming upon them of the Holy Spirit was divine confirmation.

The gospel had now reached Antioch, where it bore much fruit among the Gentiles, and a large company of Christians were gathered. The Church at Jerusalem heard of it and sent Barnabas to help. He in turn went to Tarsus for Saul, whom he brought to Antioch, and they spent a whole year teaching the believers there. Barnabas and Saul then became the bearers of a gift from the wealthier members of the Church in Antioch, a spontaneous expression of Christian love, to their Jewish brethren at Jerusalem to meet their needs in view of a famine which had been divinely foretold. On their return to Antioch, they received a commission from the Holy Spirit and these two men began the first of the great evangelical journeys which were to occupy the life of Saul —soon to be known as Paul, the great Apostle of the Gentiles. They traveled to Cyprus and traversed the whole of the island, doubtless evangelizing on their way. From Cyprus they journeyed to Perga of Pamphylia, thence to another Antioch (in Pisidia) where Paul preached a powerful word in the synagogue and secured many followers. On the following sabbath, we are told, almost all the city was gathered together to hear the Word of God. This roused the envy of Jews who stirred up a persecution and they were driven out of those parts.

Leaving there they came to Iconium. Here a great multitude of Jews and Greeks believed. Once more persecution followed, and they had to flee to Lycaonia. In Lystra, Paul having healed a man who had been unable to walk from birth, the heathen crowds would have rendered him idolatrous honors and were scarcely restrained from doing so. Ere long Jews from Iconium arrived and poisoned their minds against Paul. He was stoned and taken out of the city apparently dead. While the disciples surrounded him, he got up and went into the city. Thence they went to Derbe and from there returned to Lystra, Iconium and Antioch (in Pisidia), where they confirmed the recently converted believers. Then they returned by way of Pisidia and Pamphylia, embarking at Attalia for Antioch, where they relate to the local church all that had happened.

About this time an effort was made by certain teachers from Judea to compel the Gentile Christians at Antioch to conform to the law of Moses. Paul and Barnabas and certain others went to Jerusalem and laid the matter before the apostles and elders there. After much discussion, it was agreed that this was not necessary for Gentile believers. Upon their return Paul and Barnabas continued in Antioch teaching and preaching the gospel. After this, Paul, accompanied by Silas, paid a further visit to the places he had previously evangelized with Barnabas, confirming the Christian assemblies which had been formed. They then continued through Phrygia and Galatia.

At this point, following a very distinct guidance from God, being hindered in their first objective by the Spirit of God and then guided by a vision, they proceeded to Macedonia. Having arrived at Philippi they were, after some days, thrown into prison, but God delivered them in a remarkable way by means of an earthquake, as a result of which the jailer of the prison was converted and baptized with his whole household. Here a Christian assembly was quickly formed, to whom Paul later wrote the beautiful Epistle to the Philippians. Paul’s missionary journeys now led him successively to Thessalonica and Athens where he delivered a powerful word to the Athenians on Mars Hill exposing the folly of their idolatry. Corinth was then reached, where a large assembly was formed, Paul remaining there to teach for eighteen months. He returned once more to Antioch, setting out after a time on a third journey. After visiting the companies of Christians already formed in Galatia and Phrygia, he passed on to Ephesus where a great work ensued, the gospel spreading throughout the whole region. There he remained three years. Returning to Greece, he continued his labors and once more visited Jerusalem. It was the last time, for his arrival there was the signal for an angry outburst of hostility from the Jews, which resulted in the intervention of the Roman authorities and his own appearance before the Roman governor and King Agrippa and, finally, his appealing to Caesar. In the hands of the Romans, he then went as a prisoner to Rome. There the inspired historian leaves him spending two years in his own hired house, speaking to all who came to him of the kingdom of God.

The reader is referred to the book of the Acts for many beautiful and instructive details which have been omitted from this brief outline, the purpose of which is to provide a historical link between the life, death and resurrection of our Lord and the later history of Christianity as we find it in the first century and onwards.

Chapter 4

The Spirit of God was operating in a powerful way and the Christian gospel quickly spread all over the Roman Empire and doubtless into more distant lands. There was a large Christian assembly in Rome before the Apostle Paul visited it. Through his labors a large number of churches had grown up in Asia Minor and in Greece. Many others were spreading the good news concerning Christ — of redemption, of a hope beyond the grave and of the glorious coming again of the crucified Saviour. The very darkness and despair in which millions were then sunk prepared many to receive a hope which led their hearts and minds beyond this troubled world. Instead of the many hateful and immoral deities they had been brought up to worship, they were told of a God of love and righteousness and grace and mercy.

The worship of the only true God, the lofty ideals and righteous principles, and the gentleness and kindness of Christianity were as far from the vapid moralizings of the philosophers and the demon worship of the heathen as the east is from the west.

A dim light had indeed shone among the Jews, but here was a light brighter than the sun — the light of God. Moreover, believers were not only taught to do right, but receiving the Spirit of God they had the power to do right. Of no other religion could this ever be said. Christians were drawn to one another; they had nothing in common with the world. It hated and despised them. In each other’s company they found solace and comfort and mutual joy. Above all, they shared together in the gift of the Holy Spirit. There were companies now, large or small, in very many places, but it was all one united Church, the Church of Christ. We can form a picture of it from the New Testament writings. They met simply in little companies, often in the houses of one of their number, sometimes, when numbers were great, in various houses. They came together to break bread in remembrance of the Lord on the first day of the week (Acts 20:7). Paul enlarges on this in his first Epistle to the Corinthians. He speaks in chapter 10 of “the bread which we break” and “the cup of blessing which we bless” (1 Cor. 10:16), showing clearly that it was a well-established custom. He distinguishes in chapter 11 the Lord’s supper from the common meals which it is evident early believers often partook of together and which Jude calls love feasts. Being often together, they would naturally find it agreeable to eat at one table. The abuse of this practice is the subject of the Apostle’s rebuke in 1 Corinthians 11.

Copies of the Old Testament were early used and revered as the inspired Word of God. As many could not read, public reading of the Scriptures was an important service and the exhortation to Timothy to give himself to reading is to be understood in this sense. Later the gospels and the epistles of Paul and the other New Testament writers were added, being early recognized as inspired. Peter, for example, says in regard to Paul’s writings, “As also the other scriptures” (2 Peter 3:16 JND).

There was no official minister. Every brother was free to take part as led by the Spirit, for the Apostle says in 1 Corinthians 14, “Whenever ye come together, each of you has a psalm, has a teaching, has a tongue, has a revelation, has an interpretation” (1 Cor. 14:26 JND). And later he says, “Ye can all prophesy one by one” (vs. 31 JND). It may be that there was an excess of zeal in participating in the service at Corinth, but the liberty of each brother to function is clearly established by this passage. The distinction between the clergy and the laity had not been thought of. The functioning of the assembly was likened by the Apostle to the body —every member playing its part — none greater than the other, but each essential to the whole (See 1 Corinthians 12).

There were those who were recognized as elders — men of moral weight and exemplary lives whose authority was more moral than official — whose service was that of a shepherd and who were exhorted by Peter to emulate the great Shepherd, the Lord Himself. There were deacons who attended to the more secular needs of the company, whose services were exemplified by those chosen in Jerusalem in the earliest days. (See Acts 7.) The elders are sometimes referred to as overseers, for we read that Paul called to him the elders of Ephesus and told them the Holy Spirit had made them overseers.

The Epistle to the Philippians is addressed to all the saints who are in Philippi with the overseers and deacons. There was no thought in those days of local leadership being in the hands of one man. This was a later development, but the germ of it is seen in Diotrephes, of whom the Apostle John writes in his third Epistle, “Diotrephes, who loves to have the first place among them” (vs. 9 JND). Here we see a single man asserting himself and taking the authority into his own hands, a thing which is severely deprecated by the Apostle. At the beginning the Church was a spiritual organization (though organism would be a better word). Its only head was Christ. Believers moving from one locality to another carried letters of commendation as we see from Romans 16:1 and 2 Corinthians 3:1.

While the power of the Holy Spirit was recognized and acted on, an organization such as worldly bodies require was not needed. As the Church departed from its pristine simplicity and faith, human organization gradually came in, and in increasing measure what was human usurped the place of the Spirit. The difference is illustrated by the difference which exists between a living body and a machine. The presence and authority of the apostles largely preserved the early Church during their lifetime, but it is evident that signs of decay began to be apparent even in apostolic times. If the power of God was at work in the early Church begetting men anew and preparing members for Christ’s assembly, Satan was also at work in opposition. His opposition, as always, was the outward violence of persecution and the inward working of evil. What he could not destroy he strove to corrupt.

There are two views of the Church given us in Scripture. The first, in the Lord’s own words, “On this rock [Himself] I will build My assembly, and hades’ gates shall not prevail against it” (Matthew 16:18 JND). The other is given in the parable of the woman and the leaven (Matthew 13:33). Leaven here does not represent Christianity, but a corrupting and inflating element. This leaven (features of the world and the flesh) could come in, and did come in, through true believers. Hence the many exhortations in the apostolic writings to exclude such evil in all its forms. This could only be done by each individual believer judging himself in the power of the Holy Spirit and keeping his eye on Christ. The epistles abound with such exhortations and warnings. It is clear that the Corinthians were puffed up with religious pride; the Colossians were warned against philosophy and other features of the world; the Galatians were in danger of returning to the bondage of the law, while the Apostle John warns the faithful against gnostic and other errors which were finding an entrance into the minds of believers. There were those who denied the Lord’s deity and those who denied His true humanity. Both are powerfully refuted by John’s writings.

On the other hand lay another danger, the infiltration into the ranks of Christians of unregenerate men with an utterly corrupt outlook. Of these Jude says, “Certain men crept in unawares ... turning the grace of our God into lasciviousness” (Jude 4). Peter likewise warns against false prophets in the most solemn terms. But Paul’s language is equally grave, saying to Timothy, “The Spirit speaks expressly, that in latter times some shall apostatize from the faith, giving their mind to deceiving spirits and teachings of demons” (1 Timothy 4:1 JND).

In his second letter to Timothy he makes the sad statement that all those in Asia had turned away from him — Asia where he had worked so long and so arduously and had watered his labors with his tears.

The Church was growing in numbers but declining in its love and purity and power. While the authority and the energy of the apostles remained, there was a check on the decline, but with the departure of John, the last, at the close of the first century, the drop became very marked. It is revealed in the writings of the early fathers, which are so inferior in spiritual tone and quality to the apostolic writings that the inspiration of the latter stands out in unmistakable relief.

As foretold by the Lord (in Matthew 13), the field had been sown with tares and this was not to be remedied by rooting them up lest, said the Lord, you root up the wheat. Obedience to this clear and simple command of the Lord would have saved the Church from the long, dark history of persecution in later times when, under the pretext of rooting up tares, some of the finest of the wheat was destroyed, yet not destroyed, for they were but hastened into the presence of their Redeemer.

On the other hand, Paul’s injunction to individuals to “depart from iniquity” (2 Tim. 2:19) was more often ignored and true men remained to support, under the pretext of a false unity, a system which in course of time became the denial of all it professed. But we are anticipating history.

A general view of the churches in Asia as they existed ere the Apostle John passed from the scene is given us in Revelation 23. These messages from Christ, the exalted Head of the Church, to the seven representative churches of Asia give us not only a picture of contemporary conditions, but a brief prophetic history of the Church to its close. They show us in Ephesus the early Church having left its first love, in Smyrna the persecuted Church of the second and third centuries, in Pergamos the established Church of the fourth, fifth and sixth centuries, in Thyatira the Church under the domination of Rome, in Sardis the post-Reformation Church, in Philadelphia the revived Church of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and in Laodicea the final phase of decline and departure when Christ Himself is outside, yet still appealing to those who will hear His voice.

The fact has to be recognized that the Church, like Adam, the first man, and like Israel, has failed — failed, that is to say, as a responsible entity on earth. Viewed as Christ’s building it never could. The true wheat remains and will be gathered into the Lord’s garner. The tares will be burned with fire. A day of judgment is coming when all will be sorted out and dealt with. The Church, as Christ’s building, belongs to heaven and will shine there in the day of glory with her Head.

But these chapters 23 in Revelation give a clue to the Lord’s mind in the interval. His address closes each time with words to the overcomer. In a state of public failure, the continuance of the Christian testimony rests with overcomers, those who, as individuals, struggle against the forces of evil which are rampant in the Christian profession. The true history of Christianity is found with such. The acts of popes and princes relate more to the outward form of Christendom than to vital Christianity, though the two are often inextricably mixed. This distinction we shall closely observe in the pages to follow.

Chapter 5

In spite of the opposition from without and the attacks within, there was before the end of the first century a large and rapidly increasing body of believers in the world. During the period covered by the Acts of the Apostles, persecution came mainly from the Jews. Christians came soon afterwards under the notice of the Roman authorities. Tacitus — contemporary with Nero—describes Christianity as a “detestable superstition which at first was suppressed and afterwards broke out afresh and spread, not only through Judea the origin of the evil, but through the metropolis also, the common sewer in which everything filthy and flagitious meets and spreads.” That a writer regarded as cautious and grave should so speak of Christians shows the animosity and contempt in which they were held. It reminds us of Peter’s words: “Having your conversation [manner of life] honest among the Gentiles: that, whereas they speak against you as evildoers, they may by your good works, which they shall behold, glorify God in the day of visitation” (1 Peter 2:12). The early Christians had to live down this evil and false report and prove by their lives the pure and heavenly character of their faith.

The first persecution of Christians by the Roman Empire was in 64 A.D. by Nero, one of the most depraved, vain and foolish men that ever sat upon a throne. Having ordered Rome to be set on fire in order to satisfy his foolish vanity, he afterwards laid the blame on the Christians. They were now ordered to be arrested. Tacitus records that “a great multitude were discovered and seized, and they were condemned not so much for the burning of Rome as for being the enemies of mankind.” It is striking that neither Jews nor members of heretical sects, of which there were already many, seem to have incurred this reproach at that time. The cruelties meted out to the followers of Christ were utterly revolting. Some were covered with skins of wild beasts to be torn by dogs; others were crucified; others were covered with pitch and set fire to that they might serve as torches. Such scenes took place in the Emperor’s own gardens. This persecution continued for three or four years. Nero’s death, as awful as his life, gave believers a period of peace, lasting about thirty years.

Domitian was the next persecutor. He treated Christians with great violence towards the end of his reign. Among the sufferers was his own cousin, Flavius Clemens, and his wife. This was in 95 A.D. Domitian was killed in the following year, and his successor, Nerva, granted a general pardon, so that at the close of the first century the Church enjoyed a time of peace. Peter and Paul suffered during Nero’s persecution, while John was banished to Patmos during that of Domitian. Of the fate of the other apostles we have only legendary accounts.

The early believers belonged for the most part to the ranks of the poor and ignorant, but there were some of birth and distinction, and we have already noticed one martyr from the family of Caesar. The light of Christianity was shining, the Christian gospel was spreading, not by human means, not by power or argument, but by means of humble, lowly persons who were prepared to suffer the most dreadful ignominies, tortures and death for their beloved Lord. In this they were supported by divine power, and the blood of the martyrs proved to be the seed of the Church.

Trajan began the third persecution about 100 A.D. Pliny (the younger), the Roman governor of Bithynia, wrote to the Emperor for guidance as to how to deal with Christians. He was quite unable to attach any moral evil to them, but they refused to worship the images of the gods or the emperor. He says in his letter that the number of culprits was so great as to call for serious consultation. Many were informed against of every age and of both sexes. “The contagion of the superstition” had spread, he says, not only through cities, but even villages and the country. He claims, however, that as a result of his measures “the temples, once almost desolate, begin to be frequented and the sacred solemnities which had long been intermitted were attended afresh, and the sacrificial victims sold everywhere which once could scarcely find a purchaser.”

Here is a remarkable and authentic testimony from the Roman governor himself that Christianity had already begun to empty the temples. Yet it is clear from the same evidence that when persecution broke out, there were those who were ready to give up their profession to save themselves from suffering. Thus was the true gold purified and the dross separated.

The Scripture says, “Marvel not ... if the world hate you” (1 John 3:13). The natural enmity of the human heart against those whose lives and words touch the conscience, the vested interest of the heathen priesthood, the inveterate hatred of the Jew, an important and numerous body of persons in the empire who propagated lying falsehoods against a faith and a people they held in abhorrence and who were the professed followers of One they had crucified and condemned as an impostor, the pride of a war-like nation to whom the gentle, unresisting meekness of Christianity was by nature repulsive, the proud emperors who expected divine honors to be paid to them and to whom this conscientious refusal by the Christians to yield them idolatrous homage was but a species of rebellion — these were bitter elements in the animosity of the world against the early confessors of the faith.

But behind all was the evil spirit whom the Lord called the “prince of this world” (John 12:31), the “spirit who now works,” as Paul said, “in the sons of disobedience” (Eph. 2:2 JND), who would fain, if it were possible, stamp out the name of Jesus from the earth. The world was against the Church, but the conflict was not against flesh and blood but against spiritual wickedness in heavenly places (Eph. 6:12). The Lord was with His people, the Spirit of God was in them, and they must prevail, but it was through a fiery furnace of persecution, such as had never been known, that the Church must go, and for two centuries, with occasional periods of peace, the fearful conflict continued, God’s people overcoming in the power of divine grace.

Fifty years of rest followed the third persecution. The fourth was instigated by Marcus Aurelius in 177. Ten years earlier in a local persecution in Asia Minor, Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna, who had known the Apostle John personally, was burned at the stake when ninety years of age.

In the year 202 a severer ordeal was faced. The Emperor Septimus Severus issued an edict which forbade his subjects to embrace either the Christian faith or the Jewish religion. Both Jews and Christians were persecuted. Terrible tortures were inflicted on many Christians regardless of age or sex.

To this period one of the most pathetic stories of martyrdom belongs. It concerns Vivia Perpetua, a young Christian woman of Carthage. She was a recent convert, twenty-two years old, married, with a young infant. Her father, a pagan, sought by every kind of persuasion and entreaty to change her mind. He implored her to take pity on her loved ones, and, above all, on the helpless babe she was nursing.

The procurator, before whom she was brought, spoke persuasively, saying, “Spare the grey hairs of your parent; spare your infant; offer sacrifice for the welfare of the Emperor.”

“I will not sacrifice,” she replied.

“Art thou a Christian?”

“I am a Christian,” she said.

Sentence of death was passed. But death was not punishment enough for a Christian. With brutal disregard for all human feelings, she, with others, was taken to the arena on the day of the games. She was tied in a net, another woman companion suffering the same treatment, and both were exposed to an enraged cow. As her injuries were not fatal, she was finally killed by a gladiator’s sword. What enabled Perpetua in her youth and weakness to sacrifice all that was dear to her and her own life for Christ’s sake? Only His grace, by which she was indeed powerfully supported throughout her days of suffering. Amid the hosts of the redeemed who will swell the Saviour’s train at His appearing we shall see her, with countless more, wearing the crown of life. It was by such persons that the Christian testimony was carried through the long years of suffering.

This awful storm raged for nearly ten years. Then Severus died, and the Church rested once again for a period of twenty-four years, after which Maximus, who had at first shown toleration, introduced adverse measures directed primarily against the leaders of the Church. Public hatred, however, took advantage of the situation and for a number of years many evils were inflicted on the people of God. This was the sixth persecution.

When Decius reached the throne in 249 he immediately issued a decree against Christianity. He wished to destroy it root and branch, and every species of violence and cruelty was employed to achieve this end. Many were subjected to cruel tortures, crucified, made to sit on red-hot chairs of iron, besides other refinements of torment. Divine providence cut short this trial, for Decius only survived two years, and this, the seventh persecution, was again succeeded in the mercy of God by a time of quiet.

The eighth persecution began under the Emperor Valerian who, at the start of his reign, had shown toleration. Once again Christians suffered awful cruelties and many acquired the martyr’s crown.

A terrible retribution overtook this emperor. He was taken prisoner by the King of Persia, a power then recently revived. This monarch heaped the most insulting indignities upon him, and finally, when the Emperor was in his old age, put out his eyes and flayed him alive. Valerian’s son, who succeeded him, observed that his father prospered while he showed kindness to the Christians, and in consequence he treated them with mildness. Another calm thus followed the storm.

The ninth persecution took place in the reign of Aurelian. It commenced in the year 274 but did not last long as the Emperor was murdered within a short time by some of his servants.

In 284 Diocletian became emperor, three others being associated with him in the government. During the early part of his reign there was no organized persecution, but accounts have come down of various martyrs, among them some of the nobility of Rome. It was at this period that the first martyr in Britain was put to death, for these islands seem to have escaped the earlier fury that raged in so many parts of the Roman Empire. This was Alban, a converted pagan, who has given his name to the town of St. Albans. About the same time the soldiers of an entire Roman legion, numbering over six thousand men, who were all Christians, were put to death because they refused to march against their fellow-Christians in Gaul where the co-emperor Maximian had determined to wipe out Christianity.

In 303 A.D. Diocletian, influenced by his adopted son, Galerius, a bigoted pagan, began the tenth and last general persecution. Its avowed object was nothing less than the complete extirpation of Christianity. It began in Nicomedia. Churches were burned to the ground. The sacred books were sought out and wherever found committed to the flames. Largely as a consequence of this, no manuscript of the New Testament earlier than the fourth century has survived intact to our day. Providentially, ample means are at the disposal of scholars to ascertain the true text of the New Testament writings. It must, however, have been a terrible blow to the early Church to lose these priceless treasures. The persecution was general throughout the empire but particularly severe in the East.

Foxe says, “Many were devoured by wild beasts in Phoenicia, great numbers were broiled on gridirons in Syria, others had their bones broken and in that manner left to expire in Cappadocia, and in Mesopotamia several were hung over slow fires and suffocated. In Pontus a variety of tortures were used: Pins were thrust under the nails of prisoners, melted lead was poured upon them and other exquisite tortures were inflicted, without, however, shaking their faith. In Egypt some Christians were buried alive in the earth; others were drowned in the Nile. Many were hung in the air till they perished and great numbers were thrown into large fires and suffocating kilns. Scourges, racks, daggers, swords, poison, crosses and famine were made use of in various parts to destroy Christians, and invention was exhausted to devise new tortures against them. A town of Phrygia consisting entirely of Christians was surrounded by a number of pagan soldiers, who set it on fire and all the inhabitants perished in the flames.”

Diocletian and Maximian resigned, leaving Constantius to rule in the West and Galerius in the East. The latter continued the persecution with the most awful cruelty, while those in the West benefited from the milder disposition of Constantius. This awful trial lasted ten years. In 313 Constantine, having assumed the imperial purple, published the Edict of Milan, giving all his subjects complete liberty of conscience. He restored to Christians equality of rights and gave them back their churches and their goods.

Chapter 6

During the second century Christians increased greatly in numbers and influence throughout the Roman Empire and doubtless the gospel was carried by individuals beyond these limits. It was mainly among the lower and middle classes that the gospel spread in this century. Against the dark background of paganism and immorality, with its callous disregard for suffering and its utter hopelessness, Christianity shone with a heavenly luster. In most of the cities of the civilized world, and in villages too, there were companies of Christians who worshipped the true God, who loved one another, and who lived for the most part honest, upright and moral lives. The testimony of both Christian and pagan writers concurs in proof of this. A Christian writer of this century asserts that wherever they were, Christians rose above the evil laws and customs of the country in which they lived. The poor were everywhere diligently cared for. There is on record a letter from Dyonysius, Bishop of Corinth, to the Roman Church, written about 156 A.D., in which the following passage occurs:

“This is your custom from the beginning to confer benefits on all brethren and to send relief to various churches in every city, by which means while you assist the indigent and sustain the brethren who are in the mines, and while you continually persist in such donations, you preserve the national custom of the Romans—that which your excellent Bishop Sotir has even carried farther than usual by making generous donations to the saints, and edifying by excellent discourse (as a loving father his children) the brethren who visit him from abroad.”

From this it is evident that the bounty of the wealthier assemblies was generously extended to their poorer brethren in other parts. This and other testimonies show the unity that existed between the various assemblies in different parts of the world, who at times communicated with each other by letter. There is a beautiful and touching example of this in a long letter written about 177 A.D. from the Christians of Lyons and Vienne in France to their brethren in Asia and Phrygia on the occasion of an awful persecution in those parts of France during which many believers were put to death and many were cruelly tortured.

Christian churches and schools were built in many places in the second century. Malignity, calumny and insult were meted out freely to this poor and suffering people, while successive waves of persecution carried off thousands and left many others, who escaped death, with the marks of their sufferings for the rest of their lives.

Lucian, a witty pagan, wrote an account of an impostor named Peregrinus who for a long time deceived Christians. His story, intended to show the simplicity of Christians, serves to bring out their love and charity. Being a man of talent and education, Peregrinus acquired a place among them and was imprisoned as a Christian. Lucian records:

“There came Christians, deputed from many cities in Asia to relieve, to encourage and to comfort him, for the care and diligence which the Christians exert on these occasions is incredible — in a word, they spare nothing. ... These poor creatures are firmly persuaded they shall one day enjoy eternal life. Therefore they despise death with wonderful courage and offer themselves voluntarily to punishment. Their first lawgiver has taught them that they are all brethren, when once they have passed over and renounced the gods of the Greeks and worship that Master of theirs who was crucified and regulate their manner and conduct by His laws. They despise, therefore, all earthly possessions and look upon them as common, having received such rules without any certain grounds of faith. Therefore if any juggler or cunning fellow who knows how to take advantage of the opportunity happens to get into their society, he immediately grows rich because it is easy to abuse the simplicity of these silly people.”

From the pen of this hostile and contemptuous pagan we have an eloquent testimony to the love and care these early believers expended on their suffering brethren, their faith and hope, their obedience to the Lord’s commands, and their unselfishness and unworldliness. That they were imposed upon by a clever impostor only shows that, being of honest intent themselves, they gave others the credit of honesty too. Love “thinketh no evil” (1 Cor. 13:5). Peregrinus came to an evil end, as we might expect of such a character.

Justin Martyr, a converted philosopher, whose defense of the Christian faith is well-known, says in his first Apology:

“We who formerly rejoiced in licentiousness now embrace discretion and charity; we who rejoiced in magical arts now devote ourselves to the unbegotten God, the God of goodness; we who once set our affections upon wealth and possessions now bring into the common stock all our property and share it with the indigent; we who, owing to the diversity of customs, would not partake of the same hearth with those of a different race now, since the appearance of Christ, live together and pray for our enemies and endeavor to persuade those who unjustly hate us that by leading a life conformed to the excellent precepts of Christianity they may be filled with the good hope of obtaining the same happiness with ourselves from that God who is Lord above all things.”

The first Christians had no formal creeds. They drew their doctrine from the Scriptures and were content to express their beliefs in Scriptural language. They did not pry into what was unrevealed or beyond comprehension. (We except, of course, those who put forward heretical doctrines.) The early Church firmly refused these heresies and held to the essential foundations of the faith. This is not to say that individuals were not tainted with them, nor that the Church did not suffer from their propagation, but the fact is they were not recognized or accepted as part of the Christian faith by that great body of believers who formed the Christian Church.

It may be well at this stage to say that there is ample evidence that by the middle of the second century, that is, within fifty years after the departure of the last of the apostles, most of the books of the New Testament were generally recognized as Scripture.

Those who immediately followed the apostles, some of whom had known them personally, quote from almost all the books of the New Testament as we have them today, thus furnishing indisputable historical evidence of their genuineness and of the fact that they were received in those early days as the inspired Scriptures. Moreover, the distinctive character of the Scriptures was beyond all controversy because there was nothing at all in the writings of the post-apostolic fathers which could in the least degree be compared with them.

As the years went by, and particularly as the third century was reached, a certain decline became noticeable. The influence of Greek philosophy, the forms of pagan religion, undue reverence for the martyrs, the sign of the cross, to which miraculous powers were ascribed, the tendency to attach forgiveness of sins to the rite of baptism — these and other elements creeping in slowly and insidiously, together with a growing worldliness, gradually adulterated the purity of the faith and the conduct of believers.

Alongside all this was the rise of a clerical caste. We have seen that in the apostles’ day the assemblies were led by elders, also called overseers. Soon after the apostles left the scene — some say while John was still living — it became a recognized practice for one man to rule a local church. He was called the bishop (a word which is a corruption of episcopos, Greek for overseer), and below him were the presbyters or elders. Gradually other grades were added. Constant questions arising largely through the prevalence of heresies led to the calling of councils of bishops to settle disputes. These councils, which were at first provincial, were generally presided over by the bishop of the capital city in which they were held. Thus arose a higher grade of bishop who was called a Metropolitan. From this it was an easy step for the bishops of the principal cities of the empire to claim an ascendancy over the others.

Antioch and Alexandria in the East and Rome in the West stood out in importance and influence. The Roman bishop was, even in these early days, appealed to as a sort of arbitrator, and as early as the year 196 A.D. we find Victor, Bishop of Rome, asserting his authority and demanding, under pain of excommunication, that the Asiatic Church should conform to the practice of Rome in the matter of the date of observing Easter. This resulted in a serious disagreement between the Church of the East and the Church of the West. Irenaeus of Lyons remonstrated with the Roman bishop in regard to this matter.

The first three centuries of Christianity have been summed up by a competent historian as follows:

“We might divide the first 313 years of the Christian era into three periods in respect to its internal history. The first century was the age of Christ and the apostles, of miracles and inspiration inherent in the Church; the next fifty years we may consider as that of the apostolic fathers enlightened by some lingering rays of the departed glory, which were successively and insensibly withdrawn; the third was the period of severe probation and bitter anxiety, unalleviated by extraordinary aids, and so far removed from human consolation that the powers of the earth might seem to have conspired with the meanest of its progeny in order to oppress and desolate the Church of Christ — yet even this was not without the Spirit of God.”

Chapter 7

The first century following the departure of the apostles produced few Christian writers — few men of learning or note. For the most part the Christians of those days were concerned to live Christianity and they found in the Scriptures all that was necessary to their salvation and edification.

An epistle has been preserved that is said to have been written to the Corinthians by the Clement whom Paul mentions in Philippians 4. It is for the most part a simple and homely exhortation to the Corinthian church to observe peace and unity among themselves. Some doubt, however, has been expressed as to whether the companion of Paul was the Clement who wrote the epistle.

Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch, is the next figure that claims attention. An ancient manuscript, said to have been written by contemporaries at the time of his martyrdom, thus describes him:

“He was a man in all things like to the apostles. As a good governor by the helm of prayer and fasting, by the constancy of his doctrine and spiritual labor, he opposed himself to the floods of the adversary. He was like a divine lamp illuminating the hearts of the faithful by his exposition of the Holy Scriptures, and lastly to preserve his church, he scrupled not freely to expose himself to a bitter death.”

Ignatius suffered in the reign of Trajan in the year 107 A.D. Though an aged man, he was condemned to be thrown to the wild beasts at Rome. On his way there he rested at Smyrna, where he met Polycarp who was bishop of that place and who, like Ignatius, had himself known the Apostle John. Deputies came too from various churches in Asia to console him; there was indeed quite a convocation. While at Smyrna, he wrote letters to the churches of Ephesus, Magnesia, Tralles and Rome. These epistles seem to have suffered from interpolations, but scholars have to some extent purged the false from the genuine. Ignatius insists strongly on submission to the local bishop. The constant attacks of heretics and schismatics doubtless made him feel that the recognition of the authority of the bishop was a safeguard of unity. As this was but a few years after the last of the apostles had left the scene, we see how early the original ordering of the Church under local elders gave place to the presidency of one man. A unity imposed by obedience to one man was hardly the unity of the Spirit enjoined by the New Testament, though if the bishop himself were subject to the Holy Spirit he would exert a powerful and benevolent influence over his congregation. In his letter to the Roman Christians, Ignatius entreated them to do nothing to save him from martyrdom. It was an honor he coveted.

“My worldly affections,” he says, “are crucified. The fire of God’s love burns within me and cannot be extinguished. It lives; it speaks and says, ‘Come to the Father.’”

He stopped again on his journey at Troas, whence he wrote three further letters which are full of Christian ardor and fatherly exhortation. At the Port of Ostia he was met by Roman Christians. He speedily received his condemnation, and after praying with some of the brethren, he was led into the amphitheater and thrown to the wild beasts without further delay.

One, Quadratus, who had become the leader of the Church at Athens, which was in poor state, seems to have been used greatly at this time to edify and unite them. It is interesting to observe the seed sown by Paul thus bearing fruit one hundred years later. On the occasion of the visit of the Emperor Hadrian during a time of persecution, Quadratus presented to him a defense of the Christian faith. He was seconded by another Christian apologist named Aristides. This seems to have had a favorable influence on Hadrian, who in reply to a letter from the pro-consul of Asia made it clear that Christians should not be punished unless they actually broke the laws.

Justin Martyr, one of the very few learned men among the Christians of the second century, was born in Samaria. His father, a Greek, gave him a good education. He studied philosophy and traveled widely. He had, however, an ardent desire to know the true God, and God answered his desire. One day, walking by the sea, he met an aged stranger who, hearing of his admiration of the philosophers, drew his attention to the Hebrew prophets as more ancient than the philosophers and then spoke of Christianity. “Pray,” said he, “above all things that the gates of light may be opened to you, for they are not discernible nor understood by anyone except God and His Christ enable a man to understand.” Justin saw the stranger no more, but a fire was kindled in his heart and he soon became a believer. He wrote the apology for Christianity already referred to and a number of other works. Later he wrote a second apology addressed to Marcus Antoninus, who was, however, an inveterate enemy of Christians. Justin was accused of the crime of being a Christian. The prefect endeavored to persuade him to sacrifice to the gods. Angered at his refusal, the prefect threatened that he would be tormented without mercy if he persisted.

“We desire,” said Justin, “nothing more sincerely than to endure tortures for our Lord Jesus Christ.”

The sentence imposed on Justin, and several others accused with him, was that they should first be scourged and then beheaded, which was immediately carried into effect. Thus, in or about the year 163 A.D., Justin, the converted philosopher, sealed his testimony with his blood. Many of his works have been lost and others tampered with.

A few years later, Polycarp, another distinguished Christian of this century, died for the faith. He had served the Church of Smyrna, history tells us, as its bishop for over seventy years. On the occasion of his martyrdom a letter was sent from his church of Smyrna to that of Philomelium (in Lycaonia) giving details of his sufferings and those of his companions. He was burned at the stake at Smyrna in the year 167 after witnessing a bold confession.

Irenaeus, who presided over the Church in Lyons, received his early Christian instruction from Polycarp. In a vivid passage from a letter written by him to one Florinus, who had departed from the truth, he says, “I can describe the very spot on which Polycarp sat and expounded, and his coming in and going out and the very manner of his life, and the figure of his body, and the sermons which he preached to the multitude and how he related to us his converse with John and with the rest of those who had seen the Lord — how he mentioned their particular expressions and what things he had heard from them of the Lord and of His miracles and of His doctrine. As Polycarp had received from the eyewitnesses of the Word of Life, he told us all things agreeable to the Scriptures.”

Irenaeus wrote a book against heresies, which were very numerous at that time. He suffered torture and death when the terrible persecution overtook the Christians of Lyons and Vienne in the year 202 A.D. It is said that almost all Christians in Lyons were put to death.

Tertullian was a Christian writer whose life covered the latter part of the second and the earlier part of the third centuries. He was a native of northern Africa where the power of Carthage once held sway. Christianity seems early to have entered these parts and spread and flourished exceedingly. A few lines from Tertullian’s apology will throw an interesting contemporary light on the Church of his days.

“We pray,” he says, “for the safety of the emperors to the eternal God, the true, the living God, whom emperors themselves would desire to be propitious to them above all others who are called gods. ...

“Will ye kill the good subject who supplicates God for the Emperor? ...

“Were we disposed to return evil for evil it were easy for us to revenge the injuries we sustain, but God forbid that His people should vindicate themselves by human fire. ... Were we disposed to act the part of open enemies, should we want forces and numbers? Are there not multitudes of us in every part of the world? It is true we are but of yesterday, and yet we have filled all your towns, cities, islands, castles, boroughs, camps, courts, palaces, senate forum. We leave you only your temples. ... If we were to make a general secession from your dominions, you would be astonished at your solitude.”

Thus in the very midst of persecution and in spite of the repeated attempts of successive emperors and the opposition of the heathen, Christianity was a flowing and irresistible tide. This was before the days of Constantine when it paid to be a Christian; it was in the days when to confess the name of Christ might, and often did, mean torture and a barbarous death.

Tertullian adds his testimony to the character of Christians of his day!

“We are dead to all ideas of worldly honor and dignity; nothing is more foreign to us than political concerns; the whole world is our republic; we are a body united in one bond of religion, discipline and hope. We meet in our assemblies for prayer. We are compelled to have recourse to the divine oracles for caution and recollection on all occasions. We nourish our faith by the Word of God. We erect our hope, we fix our confidence and we strengthen our discipline by repeatedly inculcating precepts, exhortations and corrections and by excommunication when it is needful. This last, as being in the sight of God, is of great weight and is a serious warning of the future judgment, if anyone behave in so scandalous a manner as to be debarred from holy communion. Those who preside among us are elderly persons, not distinguished for opulence, but worthiness of character. Everyone pays something into the public chest once a month or when he pleases and according to his ability and inclination, for there is no compulsion. These gifts are as it were the deposits of piety. Hence we relieve and bury the needy, support orphans and decrepit persons, those who have suffered shipwreck, and those who for the Word of God are condemned to the mines or imprisonment. This very charity of ours has caused us to be noticed by some. ‘See,’ they say, ‘how these Christians love one another!’”

A touching picture this is of those early believers — their love, their unity, their unworldliness and their readiness to sacrifice all, even life itself, for Christ’s sake.

Tertullian himself was inclined to asceticism and legality. At one time he joined a sect which was regarded as heretical, the Montanists, but leaving them in the end he founded a sect of his own. He is said to be the first Christian author to use the words “Trinity” and “Person” in relation to the Godhead.

Origen, a man of unusual talent, was born in the year 185. While he was a boy, the cruel persecution under Severus was raging. His father, Leonidas, was put to death, and only with the greatest difficulty could he be restrained from voluntary martyrdom with his father. That pious man had taught his son the Holy Scriptures from his youngest days. At his father’s death, he was left at seventeen years of age with his mother and six other children. A godly woman took him into her home. He studied diligently and had soon learned all his teachers could teach him. He was devoted to the martyrs and exposed himself to constant danger by his visits to prisons and dungeons and his attendance on them even at the place of execution. By a remarkable overruling of Providence he escaped again and again. His insatiable love of learning led him to study Greek philosophy. He took over, while still young, the Christian school at Alexandria and continued for many years in this employment — an amazing monument both of industry and self-denial. Not only the day but the greater part of the night was spent in religious studies. He was so abstemious as to endanger his health. The warning in the Epistle to the Colossians (ch. 2:8) seems very fitted to his case and it seems a pity that one who knew the word so well should not have heeded it. Many of his pupils suffered martyrdom.

About the year 210 Origen went to Rome, but he soon returned. He then began to study Hebrew. He published the Hexapla, which gave in parallel columns the Hebrew text, the same in Greek letters, the well-known Septuagint version and three others. Heretics and philosophers attended his lectures, and he wrote much on philosophy and religion and won over many of the intelligentsia of his day by his arguments. The effect was to mingle philosophy and Christianity, to the great detriment of the latter. Nevertheless, he held in the main to the basic truths of Christianity. He quoted the case of the dying thief to show that a believer is justified by faith and not works. His appeal, however, was to the learned who could follow his arguments. On the other hand, he pursued a fanciful and allegorical method of interpreting the Scriptures rather than teaching the plain sense of the Word. His methods of interpretation set a fashion for after ages which was not seriously checked until Reformation times. His later years were spent in Palestine. He suffered severely but patiently in the Decian persecution and died in 254.

In 246 A.D. a valuable gift was bestowed on the Christian Church by the conversion of Cyprian, a wealthy nobleman of Carthage. When forty-five years of age, he came under the influence of divine grace. His life was changed. He gave away much of his wealth to the poor. Apparently it was at the request of the people of Carthage that he became bishop. He accepted the office reluctantly, but having done so he devoted himself without stint to the service of God and was wonderfully helped by the Holy Spirit. His mind was well trained but clear and simple. He did not bring the theories of philosophers into his teaching. He followed the plain apostolic line and his labors were greatly blessed. His career was limited to thirteen years, during which there was much persecution, and was cut short by a martyr’s death. Yet in those few years he was the instrument of a great revival in Carthage and the effects spread far and wide. He was one of the outstanding Christian leaders of the third century. If he had a fault, it was his strong insistence on the authority of the bishop, yet even this proceeded from pious motives and not from any desire to lord it over the flock.

His exaltation of the episcopal office is said to have contributed to the development of that theory of church government which bore such baneful fruit in aftertimes. He is also credited with having laid the doctrinal basis of the distinction between clergy and laity. When we consider how brief was his period of service, we may be justified in assuming that these were ideas imbibed rather than originated by him. And we have already observed the seeds of such notions developing in the previous century. As the power of the Holy Spirit became less in evidence in the Church, so that living organism became more and more — outwardly, at any rate — an organization.

In the year 258 he was arrested, and, after a brief appearance before the pro-consul at Carthage, on refusing to worship the gods, he was condemned to die by the sword and was beheaded shortly after. Few Christians in any age have done so much in so short a time. We will close this brief account with a brief extract from his writings. It comes from a treatise he wrote concerning those who had lapsed from the faith and shows how he viewed the furious persecution of Decius which continued during most of Cyprian’s Christian life. It also sheds light on the decline in faith and virtue which had taken place during the years of peace and quietness. He says, “If the cause of our miseries be investigated, the cure of the wound may be found. The Lord would have His family to be tried. And because long peace had corrupted the discipline divinely revealed to us, the heavenly chastisement has raised up our faith, which had lain almost dormant, and when by our sins we had deserved to suffer still more, the merciful Lord so moderated all things that the whole scene rather deserves the name of a trial than a persecution.” Cyprian then proceeds to enumerate the sad defects in the conduct of professing Christians, indicating that with many a low and unchristian state prevailed. It is not surprising that when tested in the crucible of persecution, the number of apostates was very great. Crowds hastened to prove that they were, after all, genuine pagans.

Chapter 8

In 306 A.D., Constantine succeeded to the empire, sharing it at first with others. Later he marched against his rival Maxentius with a large army. It is alleged that at this point he had a vision of a shining cross inscribed with the words, “In this sign conquer.” He had a banner made with the sign of the cross upon it. His soldiers, enthused by the sight of the new standard, swept all before them. Constantine professed the Christian faith and became the imperial patron of Christianity. Heathen temples with their rich revenues were handed over to the Christians; images of Christ and the apostles replaced the statues of the emperors; the local gods disappeared; the Church became popular and enriched, but at what a cost spiritually!

Church and world now entered into a partnership from which only the world benefited, but benefited only in an outward way. Henceforth the Church — a worldly Church — became one of the features of the world. The cross of shame, which the world had meted out to the Son of God, who said, “I am not of the world” (John 17:14), now became a symbol of worldly glory. “In every highway, on the steep summits of the hills, in the deep ravines and remote valleys, on the roofs of houses, and in the mosaic of the floors was seen the cross.”

But if the Church had peace without, she was now to suffer from strife within. If the storms of persecuting violence on the part of successive emperors had failed to overthrow her, Satan would try other means. If he could not destroy her, he would corrupt her. If he had failed as a roaring lion to devour the flock of Christ, he would now transform himself into an angel of light in order to lead the sheep astray.

One of the tools he used was a certain Arius, an intelligent and cultured man, presbyter in the church at Alexandria. He began to cast doubts on the deity of Christ. Said he, “If the Father begat the Son, the begotten had a beginning of existence, hence it is evident there was a time when He was not.” These blasphemous views he sedulously taught in Alexandria. He asserted that the Lord was a creature — the greatest of creatures, but not equal to the Father. The error was quickly detected by faithful believers and strenuously opposed, but the controversy rent the Church. Constantine sought to reconcile the opposing parties. The unity of Christendom was of primary importance in his mind. The depth and reality of his conversion have often been disputed — he avoided Christian baptism until a little before his death.

To settle the question, he summoned a council of the bishops to meet at Nicea in Bithynia in the year 325 and defrayed the cost from the imperial treasury. Three hundred eighteen bishops attended, of whom twenty-two espoused the cause of Arius. Many presbyters were also present and the total attendance was about six hundred. A powerful defender of the faith came forward at that time in the person of Athanasius, a young man who was destined to spend his life largely in combating this heresy.

It is significant that Constantine was apparently quite unable to see the evil of the Arian doctrine, though the majority of the bishops present condemned it as blasphemy. As a result, the Nicene Creed was drawn up, in which the Lord’s deity was clearly asserted. Arius and his followers were banished and the circulation of their writings was made a capital offence. Athanasius became Bishop of Alexandria when only twenty-eight years of age and continued in that office some forty-six years in all, with intervening periods of persecution and banishment.

Constantine was, however, won over in time to favor the Arians and they were recalled. Athanasius was urged to receive them. The Arians sought to gain their ends by subtle phrases and dissimulation. They descended to worse measures: They accused Athanasius of various crimes which they were unable to prove. Once he was accused of murder, but the victim was produced in the court of inquiry alive and well. Another false accusation resulted in his banishment. Arius was about to enter Constantinople in triumph. The godly bishop of that city had been on his knees imploring God for deliverance, for he had been ordered to receive the heretic, which he could not conscientiously do. Suddenly, as he approached the city, Arius was overtaken by violent pain, was compelled to turn aside, and came to a sudden and tragic end.

Constantine died in 337. Some of his successors favored the Arian party and the conflict continued to rage in the Church. The faithful, now free from pagan persecution, began to suffer from the Arians, who scrupled not to use violence. The orthodox were content to use the spiritual arms of prayer and the teaching of the Word; the Arians employed intrigue, cultivated those in authority, and persecuted their brethren.

Another heresy, that of Sabellius, had also arisen. He taught that the Father, Son and Holy Spirit were but phases of the Deity and denied the personal distinction of each. But these rival heretics, while opposing one another, joined in opposing the orthodox. Constantius became sole ruler, and, favoring the Arians, a persecution arose which was almost as severe as that of some of the heathen emperors. These features of corruption and violence proved the true character of Arianism, while the reproach of Christ was found among those who held to the truth of Scripture, which clearly asserts the deity of Christ.

Athanasius was a voluminous writer, but the following paragraph epitomizes his teaching:

“The Father cannot be Son, nor the Son Father, and the Holy Ghost is never called by the name of Son but is called the Spirit of the Father and the Son. The Holy Trinity is but one divine nature, and one God with which a creature cannot be joined. This is sufficient for the faithful. Human knowledge goes no further; the cherubim veil the rest with their wings.”

The so-called Athanasian Creed was not the work of Athanasius, but the product of a later age.

In spite of all the conflict, the truth was cherished and passed on by that vast number of simple Christians whose names history does not record. We have an illustration of this in a simple incident at the council of Nicea. There were present certain non-Christian philosophers. One of these, prior to the immediate business of the council, engaged some in argument. An aged Christian of no special attainments answered his objections in these simple words:

“Hear, philosopher, in the name of Jesus Christ. There is one God, Maker of heaven and earth and of all things visible and invisible, who made all these things by the power of His Word and confirmed them by the holiness of His Spirit. This Word whom we call the Son of God, compassionating the sons of men involved in error and wickedness, chose to be born of a woman, to converse with men, and to die for them, and He will come again as the Judge of all things which men have done in the body. That these things are so we believe in simplicity. Do not therefore labor in vain investigating the manner in which these things may or may not be and seeking to confute things which ought to be received by faith, but if thou believest, answer me now that I ask thee.” It is said the philosopher answered, “I do believe,” and explained he was conscious of a change which he attributed to divine influence. The story is consistent with the Scripture. “God has chosen the weak things of the world, that He may put to shame the strong” (1 Corinthians 1:27 JND).

It was in this period that monasticism originated. Some were simple hermits seeking to escape from the confusion and temptations of the age. Others lived together in companies. New Testament teaching, if accepted in simplicity, would have delivered men from such excesses. Such a course appealed to those whose natures tended to religiousness or, whose consciences being deeply affected, sought such means of human perfection instead of seeing that God can only be served in the power of the Spirit. Anthony, who died in 356, may be regarded as the father of monasticism. While yet a youth, he carried out the Lord’s words to the rich young man to sell all he had and give to the poor. Then he retired to the desert. He pushed solitude to an extreme and became famous, and many imitated his example. He was doubtless a sincere, if misguided, Christian.

It is said that the gospel was taken to Abyssinia at this time. Though there had been believers there before, it is recorded that there was a great extension of the faith at that time in that isolated land. Christianity, however, had for some time been spreading beyond the confines of the Roman Empire. Indeed, it is recorded that by the second century it had been preached in every land known to the Romans. We have no reason to doubt that in spite of all the outward confusion, the work of the Holy Spirit was continuing and real material prepared for the kingdom of God. Human history takes note of the doings of the great, of wars and calamities, and of other matters of earthly importance, but the quiet, obscure lives of humble Christians provide no material for its pages unless, as in the days of persecution, they come under public notice. A terrible persecution raged in Persia at that period and believers once more proved the reality of their faith by suffering painful deaths.

After the death of Constantius, who had succeeded Constantine, Julian came to the throne. He was marked by a fanatical addiction to paganism and sought by every means in his power to reestablish the ancient gods of Rome. Altars were set up everywhere and heathen practices resumed. While he had seen the glaring inconsistencies in the lives of many public professors of Christianity, including the previous emperor, he knew enough of Christianity to recognize its virtues, and he strove to make his new paganism morally equal to it. His rules for the pagan priests were an imitation of the godly behavior of truly Christian pastors. “The impious Galileans,” he remarked, had by their singular benevolence strengthened their party, and paganism had suffered by want of attention to these things. He comments on the kindness of Christians to strangers, their care in burying the dead, and their gravity. The heathen priests were warned to avoid the theater and the tavern. Hospitals were to be erected in every city. “The Galileans,” he said, “relieve both their own poor and ours.” What a testimony to Christianity! “By their fruits ye shall know them,” says the Lord (Matt. 7:20).

We have thus the witness of a bitter enemy of the faith that, though decline had set in, Christian virtues were such a testimony to men that the Emperor’s pagan subjects were exhorted to copy them. But the gospel Julian would not have. He did everything his ingenious mind could devise to weaken and prevent the spread of the faith, although avoiding open violence. He admitted that the measures of the persecuting emperors had increased rather than lessened the number of believers. “Give them only occasion,” he said, “and they will crowd as fast to martyrdom as bees fly to their hives.”

The persecution, however, was very real. Sacrificing to the gods was made a condition of retaining any position of importance or influence. He deprived Christian scholars of classical learning, saying they did not need it; “to believe is sufficient for them.” He even went to the length of sprinkling the food in the markets with water consecrated to idols. He encouraged the enmity of the Jews and stirred up dissension among Christians. To bring to nought the Lord’s words, he gave orders for the temple at Jerusalem to be rebuilt, but it is said fire issued from the earth and drove the workmen away. The attempt failed. If Christians complained of injustice, he taunted them by reminding them of the Lord’s injunction to bear injuries patiently. But Julian’s reign was cut short. He was killed in battle in 363 A.D., having reigned only two years.

The attempt of the Emperor Julian to revive paganism did not survive his death. Succeeding emperors were favorable to the faith. Christianity became again the established religion. Its outward form was now the fashion of the world. Many in whose hearts there was no real conversion crowded into the Church. Pagan features crept in, and there was a tendency to encourage things which might make Christianity acceptable to the masses so recently freed from paganism. Days were set aside to commemorate the death of the martyrs. The veneration in which the martyrs were held ripened into idolatry. Miraculous powers were attributed to their relics, and these relics multiplied exceedingly. Pilgrimages were made to their tombs. Images abounded and ignorant proselytes from paganism could easily see in all this a likeness to their old religion. The churches began to take on something of the erstwhile splendor of the heathen shrines. Constantine himself had set the fashion by building, among others, the gorgeous church of the holy sepulchre.

Church government at this time was essentially local. Authority was vested in the local bishop, assisted by various orders of clergy. He was usually elected by the elders and the congregation, which often included a large proportion of the population of the town or city. Antioch, for example, had then a population of 200,000, of whom half were professing Christians. The congregation consisted of actual communicants and catechumens, the latter going through a course of instruction before baptism and admission into the church. The emperors meddled in religious affairs, but their authority was not generally recognized in doctrinal matters. Questions of more than local importance were settled by calling a synod, or conference of bishops. The power and influence of the bishop was thus very great, and if the post was held by a good man, he wielded an influence for good. The greater the city, the greater the prestige of the bishop. The bishops of the principal cities like Rome were called metropolitans, but popery had not yet developed.

The inspiration of the Scriptures and the doctrines set out in the Nicene Creed were generally held, except, of course, by the heretical sects, but the tares had grown up with the wheat and the moral state of Christendom was on a lower level than when the fires of persecution were burning and purging away the dross. In the midst of the confusion, God raised up men of ability to maintain the truth of the gospel and confute false teachers, though even these men were not free from the superstitions and false notions which characterized the Church in those days.

The Roman senate had long remained true to the pagan religion, but in 388 A.D. it decided officially in favor of Christianity. In 404 the gladiatorial combats were abolished by imperial decree, and though the circuses continued and wild beasts still fought each other in the arena, the greater respect for human life was undoubtedly an outcome of Christian influence on the public conscience. Paganism was now in its last throes and obstinate pagans even suffered some measure of persecution, though there is no evidence of men suffering martyrdom for the heathen gods.

In the east of Europe those warlike tribes who were later to overthrow the Roman Empire were increasing in numbers and power. They too had been evangelized and had adopted the Arian form of Christianity. Ulfilas, the famous bishop of the Gothic tribes, had taught them the Arian Creed, with this difference: While maintaining the deity of Christ, he held that the Father was greater than the Son. Ulfilas, in translating the Scriptures into Gothic, invented the Gothic alphabet based on the Greek with the addition of other symbols to represent their speech, for their language till then was unwritten.

The fifth century witnessed a further general decline in the public profession of Christianity. As the world crowded into the Church, it brought its own features into it, fulfilling those remarkable words of our Lord when He spoke of the leaven which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal until it had been all leavened (Matt. 13:33). Thus it was with the Christian Church: Outward success was accompanied by inward decay.

Henceforth it was not possible to draw a clear distinction between the Church and the world, and succeeding centuries were to witness the growth of a great hierarchical system which now began to take root, which, while bearing the name of Christ, would be a denial of all that was truly Christian and which would stain its hands with the blood of His servants. Already, indeed, the fourth century had witnessed the first shedding of Christian blood under the auspices of the Church. We’ll notice more of this, however, when we consider the histories of some notable Christians of the fourth and fifth centuries in the next chapter.

Monasticism, celibacy, the recrudescence of pagan superstitions and idolatrous forms under Christian names, worship of the martyrs and their tombs, relics, a complicated religious paraphernalia which was the antithesis of the worship of God in Spirit and in truth, an increasingly corrupt clergy and an ignorant laity, the ever-increasing power of the principal bishops who now were almost princes: These seem to be the characteristics of the Church publicly at this time. Doubtless amid it all were those who sighed and cried over the departed glory, and here and there men like Jovinian, Vigilantius and Priscillian strove to raise the banner of truth, but they were vanquished by oppression or persecution.

This century saw Rome finally overthrown as the mistress of the world. In 409-410 Rome was sacked and pillaged by the Vandals. The eastern tribes were busy breaking up the empire elsewhere, and the Roman Empire in the West had virtually ceased to exist by the middle of the century. In 454 the invading Vandals found neither emperor nor army in Rome, but they were met by Leo the Bishop and seem to have been awed by the dignity and authority of the prelate and desisted from destroying the city. This is one of the turning points of history; the power of the Caesars was in time succeeded by the power of the popes, which gradually increased till they had ascendancy over princes and kings and emperors.

Chapter 9

The details given in this chapter on some of the outstanding Christian witnesses of the fourth and fifth centuries will throw light on the Christian testimony of this period. The available information is in many cases mixed with much that is legendary and fictitious, but our object is to present positive evidences of faith. We have not dwelt on their shortcomings, though it must be admitted that none of them was free from the defects of their age in doctrine and practice. Some, like Augustine, shine more brightly than others amid the prevailing gloom, but even he was not an exception to the rule. However, we who have benefited by the truth that has been recovered in so large a measure cannot afford to criticize those who lived in less favored times but who served the Lord with a faithfulness and devotion that we may well emulate. Whatever shortcomings they had, it was through them, and others like them, that the Christian testimony was spread and passed on to the generations following.

Ephraim the Syrian

Among the outstanding Christian men of these two centuries of whom history has left a record is Ephraim the Syrian. He was born at Nisibis in Mesopotamia. His parents were believers and he early showed signs of piety, and, like many devout men of his day, he sought the solitude of the monastery. But he felt a call to serve more usefully and left his cell for the great city of Edessa. He never became more than a deacon, though he was offered the post of bishop. He wrote much on the Scriptures, and he composed hymns in his native tongue and tunes to which they could be sung. In common with many of his day, he seems to have lacked a clear understanding of justification by faith and hence the true liberty of Christianity, but he was a lover of Christ and desired to please Him. “Blessed is he,” he says, “who shall be counted worthy to see that hour in which all that loved the immortal Bridegroom are taken up into the clouds to meet Him.”

Another extract throws light on the ardent longings of his soul.

“I beseech Thy goodness, heal my wounds and enlighten my understanding that I may see Thy gracious dispensations towards me. When my heart is infatuated, let the salt of Thy grace season it. Thou alone knowest how my soul thirsts as a dry land after Thee. As Thou hast ever heard me, neglect not now my petition; my mind is as a captive, yet seeking Thee, the only true Saviour. Send Thy grace that I may eat and drink and be satisfied. Distil one drop of Thy love that it may burn as liquid fire in my soul and consume its thorns — even evil lusts.”

His reverence is revealed in a passage directed against those who presume to analyze divine mysteries beyond the power of the creature to grasp.

“Unhappy, miserable and most impudent is he who desires to search out his Maker. Innumerable myriads of angels glorify with reverence and trembling adore, while men of clay, full of sins, dispute without fear concerning the Divinity. Their body trembles not; their mind is not disconcerted. But secure and loquacious, they speak of Christ, the Son of God, who suffered for me, an unworthy sinner, and of His twofold generation, nor do they feel how blind they are in the light.”

Ephraim died in 379 A.D.

Hilary of Poitiers

Hilary was born of a noble family and well educated. He was led to see the folly of paganism. From nature itself he inferred the existence of the almighty, eternal Being who is its Maker and Upholder. By reading Moses and the prophets, he became further enlightened. God’s declaration in Exodus, “I Am That I Am” (Ex. 3:14), deeply impressed him. From the New Testament he learned of the Word, the Son of God.

“The Son of God was made man that men may become sons of God. A man, who with gladness receives this doctrine, renews his spirit by faith and conceives a hope full of immortality. Having once learned to believe the gospel, he rejects captious difficulties and no longer judges after the maxims of the world. He now neither fears death nor is weary of life and presses forward to a blessed immortality.”

Such, in his own words, is the clear and confident faith of Hilary of Poitiers. He was a man who drew his instruction from the pure fountain of Holy Scripture. “The chief qualification,” he says, “required in a reader is that he be willing to take the sense of an author from what he reads and not give him one of his own. He ought not to endeavor to find in the passages which he reads that which he presumed might be there. In such passages as describe the character of the Supreme Being particularly, he ought at least to be persuaded that God knew Himself.”

Like Athanasius, with whom he was contemporary, he contended for the faith against the wiles and arguments of Arianism. Like Athanasius, he suffered persecution and, in 356, was banished to Phrygia. He travelled among the churches of Asia Minor and returned to Poitiers in 362. He was converted about 350, chosen Bishop of Poitiers by popular acclamation in 353 and died in 368.

Basil of Caesarea

Basil (called the Great), a man of Christian antecedents who had the advantages of education and travel, seems early to have had longings after that satisfaction which the world cannot afford. Had he chosen to make a name for himself in the world, he had every opportunity of learning and influence. The Emperor Julian, with whom he had studied at Athens, invited him to his court, but he refused and wrote with Christian sincerity to the Emperor, choosing rather to remain a despised Christian than to receive honor from an ungodly king.

Yet how easily the very best motives may be marred by false notions and human ideas. His desire to live apart from the world led him, with a number of companions, to choose a monastic life and to spend their time in prayers, psalm singing and religious devotions. With his friend, Gregory Nazianzen, he drew up rules of monastic discipline, which were copied as models in after ages. He was one of the pioneers of monasticism. In afterlife he suffered as a result of his earlier austerities. He founded other monasteries, erected hospitals and was much admired for his charity. Later he became Bishop of Caesarea and seems to have effected a reformation in the local church. He contended much against the Arians and suffered great opposition from his enemies with unwearied patience. Having cared for the Christian community in Caesarea for some eight years, the people loved him dearly and flocked around his house in his last days. His last words as he departed were, “Into Thy hands I commend my spirit.” This was in 379. His doctrine was mixed with superstition and self-righteousness, but his life proclaimed a man whose hopes were set on another world.

Martin, Bishop of Tours

The glimpses which history gives of this man’s life are largely obscured by extravagant legends common to that age of superstition. He was pious from boyhood and at twelve desired to become a monk, but as a youth he was compelled to do military service. Even as a soldier his piety seems to have shone out in a blameless life, and in his liberality to the poor he is said to have kept for himself only what he needed for his daily food. After two years he left the army and some time later fell into the hands of robbers. His calm and fearless demeanor impressed one of the band to whom he was delivered to be robbed. To this man Martin preached the gospel. The man believed and led him back to the highway, begging Martin to pray for him. For a time he entered a monastery, later becoming Bishop of Tours.

His integrity was shown in his conduct toward the Emperor Maximus, who had, at the instigation of certain of the bishops, authorized the execution of Priscillian and others, who were alleged to be heretics. Martin entreated him not to shed their blood. At first his plea was successful, but others gaining the Emperor’s ear, the men were executed. The Emperor had great respect for Martin and courted his friendship, but Martin felt he could not countenance one who was in his eyes a murderer. He saw clearly that such persecution even of heretics is unchristian. The Church was then in a very low and worldly state, guided mostly by ambitious hirelings who cared nothing for the sheep of Christ. Martin departed this life in the year 400.

Priscillian

Priscillian was a Spanish nobleman who, on his conversion, gave up his wealth and devoted himself to Christian service. Little is known about him, and that mostly through his enemies. He became leader of a movement which might be compared with the Puritanism of a later age. It became very numerous in Spain but was bitterly opposed by the official Church. The hatred it aroused leads one to suppose that it was a vital movement, for real heretics have usually escaped persecution. The followers of Priscillian were charged with gnosticism and other errors just as the Albigenses and Waldenses of the Middle Ages were vilified with similar false aspersions. In a day when communication was largely by word of mouth, such calumnies spread readily but were hard to refute. The case of Priscillian and his chief followers came before the Emperor Maximus with the result already described.

These were the first Christians to die under the auspices of the Church, for the case against Priscillian was engineered by the bishops. The charges were a tissue of falsehoods, his accusers taking advantage of the Emperor’s utter ignorance of Christianity. Priscillian and four of his companions were beheaded at Treves in 385. There can be no doubt that Priscillian was a true follower of Christ according to his light. Fifteen years after his death Priscillian’s case was reviewed at the Council of Toledo, and every charge against him disproved except one statement. He had said as to Christ, “The Word became flesh. Being invisible, He became visible; being unbegotten, He became born; being incomprehensible, He allowed Himself to be understood.”

This statement was apparently deemed unsound by the Council of Toledo.

But a fuller justification was to follow many centuries later. The writings of Priscillian had been completely lost, until in 1886 eleven tracts of his were discovered in a library in Europe. They were found to contain nothing heretical. Indeed, quotations from Scripture constitute a very large proportion of their contents. He sometimes quotes apocryphal writings in which he believed elements of truth were to be found, but he did not apparently view them as inspired.

Those who see a historical parallel between the worldly Church of the fourth century and the Pergamos Church of Revelation 2:12 will recall the words of the Lord, “Antipas my faithful witness ... who was slain among you, where Satan dwells” (vs. 13 JND).

Ambrose of Milan

Another shining light amid the darkness of the fourth century was Ambrose of Milan. He was born about 340, his father being the Emperor’s lieutenant in France. The family went to Rome on the death of his father and there he studied with great success. He became a very successful lawyer. Meanwhile, he had learned something of Christianity from his sister. He was appointed governor of Milan, which office he discharged with prudence and justice for five years.

A tumult arose over the nomination of a new bishop, as the rivalry between the Arians and the orthodox was very bitter. Ambrose himself went to the church and tried to calm the people. The result was surprising. A cry was heard, “Ambrose is bishop.” This was taken up by the crowd, and he was elected by universal consent. He strenuously declined the office but finally yielded to the universal pressure. Having done so, he gave his fortune to the Church and the poor and devoted himself to the ministry. He applied himself diligently to the study of Scripture. He was at this time thirty-six years of age. He labored much and preached every Lord’s Day. One great result of his efforts was that Arianism was largely expelled from Italy.

There was at Rome a presbyter named Simplician, a man of learning and piety whose help Ambrose obtained. This man was content to serve under Ambrose, although he was his spiritual instructor. Simplician was later used to help Augustine. When quite an old man, he succeeded Ambrose as Bishop of Milan.

Undoubtedly these two men served God in their generation. We must ever bear in mind that we are dealing with a dark and superstitious age, and even the most eminent of the Lord’s servants was colored by the characteristics of the times in which they lived. The history of the Church shows that God does not disdain to use men and bless their services because in some things they come short. On the other hand, there are certain vital and fundamental truths without which there can be no blessing.

Ambrose excluded the Emperor Theodosius from communion for eight months for his having permitted a massacre of the people of Thessalonica. The Emperor accepted the discipline in a repentant spirit. Such things, while they reflect favorably on the integrity of Ambrose, tended to exalt the episcopal office in a way which less worthy men were afterwards ready to imitate. Ambrose died in 397, when about fifty-seven years of age, his life being shortened, perhaps, by his constant and arduous labors.

John Chrysostom

John Chrysostom was a native of Antioch, born about the year 347. His parents were persons of some rank. His father died while he was young, but his mother brought him up in the truth of Christianity. He studied oratory, for which he had a natural aptitude. (His surname means “golden mouth.”) After practicing for some time in the Forum, the Spirit of God led him to the study of Scriptures in which he appears to have made much progress, paying attention to its plain sense rather than following the fanciful interpretations of Origen which characterized the theology of his day. Like many other earnest men, he spent a number of years in asceticism. Later he became a presbyter in his native city of Antioch.

Antioch, where believers were first called Christians, had always been a stronghold of Christianity, but worldliness was then rife and the state of the Church was very low. Sedition broke out in the city in 379, and the people dragged the statues of the Emperor and his family through the streets. Many were arrested and tried and seemed likely to pay dearly for their folly. The Emperor’s anger was placated by Flavian, the bishop, who prevailed upon him to show mercy on Christian grounds. His plea prevailed and the city was forgiven — a striking instance of the effect of Christianity on the conscience of an emperor.

At the age of forty Chrysostom was appointed bishop of the imperial city of Constantinople. He found the Church in a bad condition and the clergy themselves very corrupt. He immediately proceeded to effect a reformation. The custom of the bishops had been to live like lords, entertaining lavishly. This expense he curtailed and the proceeds were given to relieve the poor. A large hospital was built for the infirm. Some of the ministers were suspended, the widows, maintained at the Church’s expense, were admonished to abandon their immoral manner of life or else to marry, and the people were urged to attend divine worship in the evening. There was a noticeable reformation in the life of the capital. Many came to hear him. He preached three times a week and sometimes every day. The crowd of hearers became so great that he had to place himself in the middle of the church in order to be heard. His influence extended to the neighboring provinces, and through his zeal many unworthy men were deposed from their offices. He strove to spread the truth among the Arian Goths and endeavored to evangelize some of the heathen nations.

Chrysostom, by preaching the gospel and stirring up men’s consciences, was carrying the attack into the enemy’s land. This was not unheeded. Satan stirred up enemies, and lying charges were brought against him. The Empress, of whose behavior he had apparently spoken severely, was opposed to him, and he was banished by imperial orders. No sooner was he gone than the whole city was in uproar, and in order to pacify the people, he was recalled. His zeal, however, again overcame his prudence, and once more he incurred the Emperor’s displeasure. He was again exiled, and his friends were severely persecuted. In his exile he was driven from place to place and harassed in many ways, yet in spite of all he appears to have done good. His enemies, incensed by the respect he everywhere received, pursued him even in his banishment, and while he was being dragged to a spot on the shore of the Black Sea, he died of exhaustion in the fifty-third year of his age. His followers remained separate from the Church for thirty years. In 438 his body was brought back to Constantinople in great solemnity, public honor was done to his memory, and his followers were reconciled to the Church.

Augustine

Augustine’s father was a pagan, though later he was converted through the example and influence of his wife, a woman of great faith and exemplary piety. Augustine’s early life, his unbelief, his wantonness, and the way God finally led him to salvation through faith are movingly told by himself in his Confessions. For thirty long years and with bitter tears, his devoted mother prayed for her wayward son. He was successful in his studies and took up the teaching of rhetoric, first in his own town, then in Carthage, later at Rome, and finally in Milan.

He tried to find happiness in pleasure and yet longed for something higher. He was led into the strange cult of Manichaeism, a mixture of philosophy and religious superstition, and remained for some years with a “mind darkened by error and a heart led astray by passion.” The teachings of Plato seem to have been used to undermine his faith in the folly of Manichaeism. At Milan he heard Ambrose preach. Augustine now began to move towards the truth. His mother joined him at Milan, and she and others influenced him for good. A great struggle was still going on in his soul. Clearly the Spirit of God was working. Let the crisis he finally reached be told in his own words:

“I prostrated myself under a fig tree with tears bursting forth. I spoke to this effect: ‘How long, Lord, wilt Thou be angry? Forever? Remember not my old iniquities,’ for I perceived myself entangled by them. ‘How long shall I say tomorrow? Why should not this hour put an end to my slavery?’ Thus I spoke and wept in the bitterness of my soul, and I heard a voice as from a neighboring house repeating frequently, ‘Take up and read; take up and read.’ I paused and began to think whether I had ever heard boys use such an expression in any play, and I could recollect nothing like it. I then concluded I was ordered from heaven to take up the book and read the first sentence I cast mine eyes upon. I returned hastily to the place where Alypius was sitting, for there I had placed the book of St. Paul’s epistles. I seized it, opened it and read what first struck my eyes. ‘Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying: but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof’ (Rom. 13:13-14), nor did I choose to read anything more, nor had I occasion. Immediately at the end of this sentence all my doubts vanished. I closed the book and gave it with a tranquil countenance to Alypius. ... He joined me in going to my mother, who now triumphed in the abundant answer to her petitions. Thus God turned her mourning into joy.”

Not long after this, Augustine’s saintly mother, at the close of a conversation with her son on heavenly things, said to him, “Son, I have now no delight in life. What I should do here and why I am here I know not, the hope of this life being quite spent. One thing only, your conversion, was an object for which I wished to live. Now God has given me this in larger measure.” About two weeks afterwards she fell asleep in Jesus at the age of fifty-six.

The change in Augustine was complete. The preparation had been long, and God, who sees the end from the beginning, knew the vessel he was preparing. The long and painful conflict was not wasted. Several years after his conversion, Augustine, who had returned to Africa, became a presbyter. His life and his preaching quickly made an impression, and his influence spread. Later he became Bishop of Hippo and served God with single-eyed devotion. His preaching was effective; his pen, which was always busy, was a powerful weapon for the truth. He attacked the folly of the Manichees, of which he had had personal experience in his unconverted days. The schism of the Donatists, some of whom were violent and turbulent men, is said to have gradually withered away through his teaching.

About this time Pelagius appeared, who denied the corruption of human nature through the fall, and in opposing this Augustine brought into relief the sovereignty of divine grace as taught in the Scriptures.

God used Augustine as the chief instrument in a dark day to effect a distinct revival in godliness and doctrine, and this light continued to shine if but dimly through the still darker centuries which followed. Among his voluminous writings are his Confessions, in which he gives an account of his life and conversion, a moving story of his soul’s experience in the bondage of sin and his emancipation by divine grace. His other outstanding work is the City of God, in which he draws a vivid contrast between the city of this world and that which God is building. It is a long and discursive work in which the active mind and pen of Augustine cover a very wide field.

As Bishop of Hippo in northern Africa, Augustine served faithfully and effectively. His writings are well-known. It must be acknowledged that he was not entirely free from some of the errors of his time. Those who, by divine grace, enjoy a much fuller light must bear in mind the character of the days in which he lived. He had great concern for the poor, lived quite apart from the world, and gave himself wholly to divine things.

For some years past the barbarian tribes had been attacking the Roman Empire. Just before Augustine’s death, the Vandals overran northern Africa. During the siege of Hippo in 430 A.D., he died, having lived seventy-six years, of which forty were passed in the service of God.

Jerome (346-420)

Jerome was a striking contrast to Augustine in many ways. If the latter was a shepherd and teacher, the former was a recluse and a scholar. Born in 346 A.D. of a Christian family, he was educated at Rome and subsequently traveled in furtherance of his education. He lived for a time in the desert near Antioch where he learned Hebrew. After becoming presbyter at Antioch, he went to Constantinople and returned to Rome. Leaving it in 385, he settled in Bethlehem, establishing a convent there. He was a prolific writer and a bitter controversialist. Heretics and friends felt the lash of his pen. His encouragement of celibacy and seclusion peopled the deserts with monks and hermits. He translated the whole Bible into Latin but his translation was at first widely opposed as an innovation. Well-known as the Vulgate, this translation became later the Bible of Christendom and is still the recognized Bible of the Roman Catholic Church.

Had Jerome imbibed more of the spirit of Christianity, his talents might have been more useful to his day and generation.

Jovinian and Vigilantius

Both these men were contemporaries of Jerome, and both dared to raise their voices in protest against useless austerities, monkish seclusion and the prohibition of marriage. Both seem to have been men who were nearer to the truth of Christianity than the majority of their fellow-Christians at that time. Jerome inveighed against both. Jovinian was accused of convening sacrilegious meetings outside the walls of the city of Rome, which may suggest they were gatherings of believers endeavoring to return to the simplicity of true Christian worship. By the orders of the reigning emperor, he was banished to a desolate island near the coast of Illyria, there to finish his days in solitude.

Vigilantius, a native of Gaul and a well-instructed Christian, declaimed against the worship of the tombs of the martyrs and other idolatrous practices, only too rife and supported, alas, by men who ought to have known better. The teachings of Vigilantius also were assailed so violently by the pen of Jerome that they made no headway. Thus was the Spirit quenched and the Church became every year more worldly and more corrupt.

Nestorius

The stigma of heresy rests (unjustly we believe) on Nestorius. He became Bishop of Constantinople in 428, but he was deposed in 431 and banished in 435. Christians had for long exercised their intellects on matters which are inscrutable, and about this time there was a dispute as to how the human and the divine natures were united in Christ. But what brought Nestorius into difficulty was that he objected to the expression “Mother of God” which was being applied to Mary. He was accused, therefore, of dividing Christ into two persons, the Son of God and the Son of Mary. This he strenuously denied. It has been said by those familiar with his writings that he was nearer to the Scriptures than the orthodoxy of his day. The subject, however, was one which lent itself to involved, bitter and fruitless controversy. The Council of Ephesus which condemned him was corrupt, and Bishop Cyril, his enemy, was animated by jealousy. However, the Emperor banished him to an oasis in the desert where he remained till he died 16 years later. His followers formed a separate communion and spread far and wide. They took the gospel to China and a remarkable monument erected by them in the sixth century was still standing in recent times. Nestorius suffered much in exile. Two brief and touching extracts from his later writings give an insight into his feelings while in exile.

“Earthly things have but little interest for me. I have died to the world and live for Him to whom my life belongs.”

“I have borne the sufferings of my life as the sufferings of a single day, and I have not changed all these years. And now I am already on the point to depart and daily pray to God to dismiss me — me whose eyes have seen His salvation. Farewell desert, my friend, my upbringer and my place of sojourning, my mother, who after my death shall keep my body until the resurrection comes in the time of God’s pleasure. Amen.”

Ninian

Ninian has been styled “the Apostle of the Picts.” He was sent as bishop to the Picts living in the southwest of Scotland toward the end of the fourth century. Bede speaks of him as a reverend bishop and most saintly man. He was of British birth and had been trained in Rome. Doubtless there were already a few Christians in the area, but as a result of Ninian’s activity the Picts in those parts abandoned idolatry and accepted Christianity.

Patrick

Patrick, known as the patron saint of Ireland, belongs to the fifth century. He originated from a Christian family living somewhere on the west coast of Britain. The district was raided by a band of Irish marauders and young Patrick, a youth in his teens, was, with a number of others, taken and sold as a slave. In captivity he turned to God, as he said himself, “with all his heart.” He became a man of prayer, and in answer to his prayers a way of escape opened up. He got on a boat sailing to Europe. After spending some years in a monastery, he returned home, but he appears to have felt a distinct call to go to Ireland as an evangelist. By way of preparation he went again to France and studied the Christian faith at Auxerre. He was forty years old when his opportunity came to go to Ireland as the successor of Palladius, who had been previously made bishop of the Irish. Wherever he went, he tried to win over the local chief. His labors were very successful. In a book which he entitled his Confession, he disavows any merit of his own and freely attributes what success he had to God’s working through him. His teaching was doubtless colored by the features that marked the Church generally in that day, but the light shone for many a day more brightly in Ireland than in many other parts, and a number of missionaries went from there to spread the gospel in less enlightened lands. Patrick died in 473, being about ninety years of age.

Leo the Great

Leo became Bishop of Rome in 440 A.D. At that time the Roman Empire was in a state of dissolution. He was a man of marked ability, and he did much to enhance the prestige of the Roman See and lay the foundation of the authority that it was later to exert over the world. He devoted much energy to attacking heresy and suppressing heretics. He also introduced private confession, another feature which was afterwards to contribute to Rome’s power over men’s consciences. This has indeed been called the cornerstone of the Roman Church.

In 452 he persuaded Atilla, the Hun, to refrain from invading Italy, while two years later, when Genseric, King of the Vandals, found Rome without an emperor and without defense, it was Leo who went out to meet him and persuaded him to be content with his plunder and abstain from destruction of the city. In his day, at the Council of Chalcedon, Rome was given precedence of rank over the other patriarchates.

Chapter 10

Although our purpose is to trace the history of Christianity in its vital rather than its external aspect, it is necessary to have some idea of the background of events in the world against which the light, now so sorely dimmed, was to shine though dimly during the dark centuries upon which we now enter.

The Roman Empire of the West came to an end in 476 A.D. when Odoacer, King of the Heruli, assumed the title of King of all Italy. Some fragments, however, remained under the sway of the Emperor at Constantinople. This eastern part of the empire survived for centuries, being gradually dismembered by the Muhammadan conquests till the Turks finally destroyed its last vestiges in the fifteenth century.

A large part of Europe reverted to a state of barbarism. The barbarians had sacked and burned the towns and laid waste the country. The roads fell into disrepair, schools had largely disappeared, and even the clergy became illiterate. The barbarian tribes who had settled in the Roman domains could neither read nor write. In the parts of Italy which now remained attached to the eastern emperor and in Ireland among the monks, the lamp of learning was in some degree kept burning.

In Britain, the Saxon invaders had driven the Britons into Wales or Cornwall or across the Channel into Brittany. Europe became parceled out among the barbarian chiefs, and the citizens of fallen Rome and the barbarian tribes lived alongside one another for several centuries without entirely mingling.

Clovis, King of the Franks, adopted the Christian religion in 497 under the influence of his wife. His conversion resembled that of Constantine. The sixth century saw the rise of Justinian (527-567), a powerful monarch of the eastern empire, who conquered the Goths in Italy and the Vandals in Africa. He attempted to extinguish Arianism and built many magnificent churches. In 544 he closed the schools of philosophy in Athens and decreed that no public office was to be held by a pagan.

The early years of the seventh century witnessed the advent of Muhammad. The Muhammadan conquests spread over Syria, Persia, Egypt and North Africa, and within a hundred years they had even invaded Europe and occupied Spain and parts of France. In France they were met by Charles Martel and defeated at Poitiers in 732. The eastern emperor’s Italian provinces were overrun by the Lombards. Pepin, the younger son of Charles Martel, with the aid of the Pope, deposed Childeric and became King of the Franks. At the Pope’s request he attacked the Lombards, who were threatening Rome. In 754, having defeated them, he handed to the Church the town of Ravenna and a number of other cities. This is called the “Donation of Pepin,” and it was the foundation of the temporal power of the popes.

Charlemagne, Pepin’s son, was a successful warrior and talented monarch. He championed the cause of Christianity, which he enforced, where necessary, by the power of the sword. He confirmed and extended the “donation of Pepin.” Pope Leo III invited him to Italy in the year 800, and on Christmas Day that year he received from the Pope’s hands the diadem of the empire. Thus began the so-called Holy Roman Empire. Thus was laid the foundation of that alliance by which the Papacy eventually acquired power and prestige above the kings of Europe, and Rome became once again the Mistress of the West.

Having thus very briefly traced the political history of the Dark Ages, let us take a glimpse at the public aspect of the Church before seeking for evidences of true Christianity shining amid the gloom which filled both the Church and the world.

Chapter 11

When the barbarian conquerors overran the provinces of the Roman Empire, they found the Church a united and well-organized body which looked to the Bishop of Rome for leadership. On the one hand, the hierarchy and the ritual of the Church commanded their respect. On the other hand, its organization and influence provided a useful asset in the rule of their new territories. The bishops became magistrates and temporal lords. They were useful counselors, for what learning there was was found with them. Thus, during the Dark Ages, the power and wealth of the clergy grew apace, nor was it always honestly acquired. It is recorded that even in the sixth century bishops were guilty of appropriating church endowments to their own use and of committing various acts of injustice and oppression. Simony was rampant and perjury common among the clergy, and their morals are said to have been very low in the period following the barbarian invasions. To the shame of the Church, a secular ruler, Charlemagne, had to take measures to reform the worst of these abuses. The seventh century marked the low point of ignorance. At this period, however, learning was kept alive in Britain and Ireland, where a purer Christian light still shone. It has always been so: The true knowledge of God has ever been allied with a proper cultivation of the mind, while the times when the light of God has been withheld have been times of ignorance and vice. But although the Church had sunk so low, there were still in it pious men and women, and a little light still glimmered amid the gloom — a little of the warmth of Christian love glowed and shed its beams on a forlorn world. The most hateful features of heathendom were modified, if not banished. Slavery was one of the evils which gradually gave way to Christian influences. From time to time the voices of Councils were raised to rebuke the abuses among the clergy. The relief of the poor and the care of the sick was a feature which had been associated with the Church since earliest times. If we look at the Church as a beneficiary of the world, there is something to be said for her, but her heavenly light had departed, except that here and there individuals and groups were to be found in whom the Spirit of God was manifesting the features of Christ.

One of the worst features of this period was the prevalence of superstition and idolatry. Relics of the apostles and martyrs abounded and there was great competition to secure these spurious objects of veneration. Pilgrimages to the tombs of saints were encouraged, their images worshipped, and prayers made to them. All this was encouraged by men who should have known better.

The doctrine of purgatory was propagated in this period, and Gregory the Great is credited with having furthered this unscriptural notion. While Rome was not yet acknowledged as head of the Western Church, the claim that its bishop inherited the authority of St. Peter — that the “keys” committed to that Apostle had been passed down — was already strongly asserted early in the seventh century. Towards the end of the eighth century, there appeared what has been described as “the two most celebrated monuments of human imposture and credulity” — the False Decretals and the “Donation of Constantine.” The former consisted of forged epistles and decrees, attributed to earlier bishops and emperors of Rome, and designed to support by fraudulent evidence the supremacy of Rome; the latter proclaimed that Constantine, on removing his seat of government to Constantinople, delegated to the successor of St. Peter and the Vicar of Christ unlimited authority over churches and nations and kings. Despite these bold claims, Charlemagne himself maintained his own regal authority but did not scruple to use the Pope as a useful ally. In later years these impudent frauds helped to build up the growing prestige of the popes of Rome.

In the East the history of the Church assumed a different pattern. The Emperor Justinian (527), zealous for external religion, built sumptuous churches, endowed monasteries and strove to bring all those within his power to the nominal acceptance of Christianity. Although avaricious and superstitious himself, he was the virtual ruler of the Church as well as the state. But forced conversions, accompanied often by cruelty, only hindered the cause of true Christianity, which declined to a very low level. Idolatry and superstition, with mere outward forms, took the place of godliness. But the East was, before long, largely submerged by the Muhammadan invasion. In the parts still left to the eastern emperors, a violent controversy over images arose. Some of the emperors, particularly Leo III, strove to banish image worship. The effect in Greece was a rebellion, which, however, was quickly crushed. Pope Gregory II wrote an impudent letter to the Emperor (who at that time was still the acknowledged ruler of Italy) demanding that he “should cease to persecute images.” In 732, this pope, in a council, excommunicated all who should remove or speak contemptuously of images. He even sought the help of Charles Martel in order to throw off his allegiance to the Emperor, who was still titular head of the Roman Empire.

Some of the succeeding emperors continued the campaign in the East against idolatry, but finally, in 784, the Empress Irene restored image worship and sought the support of the reigning pope, Adrian, which he was only too ready to accord. It is hard to discover at this time any real light in the Eastern Church. Many true believers, such as the Paulicians, were outside the Church and were bitterly persecuted.

Having taken this brief look at the sad aspect of what professed to be the Church of Christ on earth, let us turn to the happier task of finding evidences of true Christianity during these three centuries. In spite of all the superstition and admixture of human notions, the simple truths of the gospel, the coming of the Saviour, His atoning death, the hope of life beyond the grave for those who believe — these truths were not entirely obliterated, and they were kept alive by the Spirit of God in many hearts. There was, moreover, an earnest desire with some that those tribes and nations still in heathen darkness should hear the story of the gospel. There were men in whose hearts the love of God burned and who were ready to give up the comforts of life or the peace of the monastery and take long and hazardous journeys to strange lands and live among barbarians risking — and sometimes meeting — death in order that their benighted fellows might receive the blessings of Christianity. No greater proof could be offered than this that the knowledge of the Saviour God was still enshrined in human hearts.

Christianity was in a comparatively flourishing state in Ireland in the sixth century, and the Christian schools in that country had a reputation for piety and learning which attracted students from other lands. Columba, a pupil of royal lineage in one of these schools, after having founded several monasteries in Ireland, went to Iona and began a fresh foundation there. A spiritual revival in his own soul seems to have occurred at this time, and from Iona evangelical light spread all over Scotland. One valuable service rendered by the monasteries under Columba’s care was the multiplication of copies of the gospels. When we consider how much depends on the possession of the Scriptures and how laborious was the task of preparing them by hand, this labor performed by the monks in the quietude of their cells was of inestimable value. Columba died in 597.

From the great monastery of Bangor in Ireland in 590, Columbanus commenced his great missionary work in Europe, preaching in eastern France, Bavaria, Switzerland and Italy. One of his disciples named Gall, who has given his name to the Swiss Canton of St. Gall, also labored in Switzerland and among the German tribes.

The outstanding figure in the Church at the close of the sixth century is Gregory I, Bishop of Rome. We do not call him pope because the papal system had hardly developed. Of noble origin and a man of wealth, he seems to have undergone a real conversion, and like many whose consciences were deeply affected in those days, he became a monk. Leaving the monastery, he took up ministerial office in Constantinople, but he felt the loss of the quiet retirement of the monastery and wrote at this time to Leander, afterwards Bishop of Seville:

“I found my soul convinced of the necessity of securing salvation, but I delayed too long entangled with the world. At length I threw myself into a monastery. Now, I thought, I had placed an insuperable bar between myself and the world. But again I am tossed on the tempestuous ocean and unless I may enjoy the communion of my brethren, I can find no solace to my soul.”

From youth he was sickly and suffered much all his life, but he labored diligently in spite of his afflictions. The fear of divine judgment was ever before him, but he appears to have trusted in the mercy of God. Although a devout student of Scripture, he seems to have overlooked the basic gospel truth of justification by faith. This was a defect of the times and explains much in the history of the Church during the Dark Ages. His lack in this respect is proved from his own words. A lady had written to inquire if he could by revelation assure her that her sins were forgiven. To this he replied “that certainty in this matter was not attainable; we must repent and mourn over our sins, and apply for pardon continually.”

He bore the onerous burdens of the office of Bishop of Rome with diligence and zeal but he deplored the time spent in secular affairs. He was upright and honorable in his dealings, and unbounded in his charity. He appears to have lived what he taught. “Weighty indeed,” he writes, “is the office of a pastor. He must be an example to the flock, and after this he must learn to keep himself humble. He must ever be intent on the ministry of the Word, remembering who hath said, ‘Occupy till I come’ (Luke 19:13). This then we truly execute when by life and doctrine we gain the souls of our neighbors. ... I tremble at my own infirmity. How can I sustain the last judgment seeing so very little fruit for my labors? Dearest brother, I implore your prayers for me.”

Pious, devoted and laborious as Gregory was, he helped to build much “wood, hay, stubble” (1 Cor. 3:12) into the fabric of the Church. Five centuries had passed since the apostles, and their teaching, although enshrined in the Scriptures, had become encumbered with superstition, ceremonialism and idolatry. To this Gregory added his quota. He encouraged missionaries like Augustine to compromise with heathen feasts by christianizing them, he sanctioned the use of images while deprecating idolatry, and he asserted the power of the keys of St. Peter. He shared the abject addiction to sacred relics, regulated the prayers, and added pompous ceremonies to the services of the Church. Thus, while we may exempt him from the Babylonish character assumed by later occupants of the Roman See, in his days the foundations on which cunning and unprincipled men built up the papal system were well and truly laid.

The story of Gregory and the slaves from Britain whom he saw in the slave market is well-known. Observing their fair faces, he inquired as to their race, and being told they were Angli, he said, “In truth they have angelic countenances and it is a pity they should not be co-heirs with angels in heaven.” In due course he sent Augustine with about forty monks to Britain. Augustine, discouraged by the initial difficulties, was ready to abandon the task, but Gregory urged him to go. The results were fruitful, though the truth of the gospel was mingled with the idolatrous features that characterize the Church of that day.

Britain had had the light of the gospel from the earliest times, perhaps as early as the second century, but the Saxons, as is well-known, had driven the original inhabitants, among whom the light of Christianity still survived, into Wales and Cornwall, and Britain had again become a pagan land.

Some Christian influence already existed in Kent. The King’s wife, Bertha, daughter of the King of Paris, was a Christian and had a little church for her own use and a chaplain. Augustine therefore sought first an interview with Ethelbert, the King. He was favorably received and Queen Bertha’s church at Canterbury made available to him. The King embraced Christianity and many of his subjects followed his example. Augustine was made first bishop and established his headquarters at Canterbury, becoming the first archbishop, with authority to appoint others, as the number of converts grew and made it necessary.

It was Gregory’s intention that the native British Churches driven into the West should be brought into the Roman fold. Augustine, it seems, treated them in a rather superior way and gave offence. The Welsh Churches remained independent of Rome till the end of the twelfth century. An attempt later to establish relations with the Irish Church was also unsuccessful. The recognized leadership of Ethelbert south of the Humber favored the spread of Christianity in the other kingdoms of the Saxon heptarchy.

Edwin, King of Northumbria, sought the hand of the sister of Eadbald, King of Kent (successor of Ethelbert). At first her brother refused to allow her to marry an unbeliever, but he relented on the condition that she should be allowed full liberty of conscience. For her protection, she was accompanied by Paulinus, who was to watch over her spiritually. Paulinus was not content merely to fulfill this charge. He sought to win the King and people over to the faith. His efforts were blessed, and the King and many others believed and were baptized. Paulinus’s efforts extended south to Lincoln where further blessing followed. Thus God in His grace overruled what seemed to be a mŽsalliance, and during Edwin’s life the gospel prospered.

After six years Edwin was killed and his queen retired to Kent with Paulinus. Northumbria was overrun with paganism once again, but a further revival was granted by the arrival of a pious Irish missionary named Aidan who was invited over by Oswald (nephew of Edwin) who had regained the territory and was himself a Christian. Aidan settled in Lindisfarne (Holy Island), for long years a Christian citadel in those troublous days. Gradually the gospel spread throughout Saxon England, and its light has continued to shine in this highly favored land until this day.

Another Irish missionary, Kilian, went to Wurtzburg in Germany. The pagan governor was won over to accept the faith, but whether the work was real in his case seems to be in doubt. He was married to his brother’s wife, and Kilian having pointed out that this was contrary to Christianity, the woman concerned played the part of Herodias and secured his death. He was murdered together with his companions, but many had been converted. This was in 688. Later in the same century Willibrod and eleven other English missionaries went to Friesland. Their labors were crowned with success. Some of them went into Westphalia and the surrounding country. Willibrod continued his work for fifty years. Utrecht was his diocese. About the same time Disen, an Irish monk, labored in France and Germany, being particularly successful around Metz.

In the sixth century Nestorian missionaries penetrated into China. For about 250 years they labored in that land and translated part of the Scriptures into Chinese. They erected a monument at Sian Fu, the capital of Shensi, which remained until recent times, on which they recorded their work and set out the essentials of the Christian faith. They appear to have quitted China in the year 781.

To the eighth century belongs the history of the venerable Bede. He was born in Jarrow in Durham, educated from childhood in the monastery of Wearmouth, and he appears to have been devoted to the service of God from his youth. He transferred later to a monastery at Jarrow and there spent his life. Prayer, reading of the Scriptures, writing and teaching occupied his days. He was celebrated throughout the West, and the Pope invited him to Rome, but the world had no attraction for him, and he was content to serve in comparative obscurity all his days. He was never idle and wrote on all the branches of knowledge known in Europe in his day. He was skilled in Greek and Hebrew. His Church history is well-known. His influence was blessed to many. While his writings are not free from the defects of the age, he had real evangelical light and was a true lover of God. Among his last words were, “My soul desires to see Christ my king in His beauty.” He died in 735.

In this century there were many godly and evangelical men in Britain who took the gospel to the less illuminated parts of Europe. Winfrid, born in Devon about 680, was one of these. He longed for the conversion of the heathen and went first to Bavaria, where he reformed the churches, and then into Thuringia where he was instrumental in spreading the gospel among pagans. Later he made a second visit to Friesland where Willibrod was still working. Thence he went to Hesse where he propagated the gospel under great hardships and amid many dangers from the hostile natives.

On the occasion of a visit to Rome, the Pope changed his name to Boniface. Returning to the scene of his labors, he was joined by many others, and a great extension of the gospel took place in Germany. In 732 he was given the title of Archbishop by Pope Gregory III. Thus Rome extended its influence by means of men whose real motive was the glory of God and the love of souls. Boniface had expressed a “desire for the honor of dying for the love of Him who died for us.” This desire was fulfilled. On a certain day he was preparing to baptize a large number of converts, when he and his followers were surprised by an armed band of pagans. His servants prepared to resist, but he restrained them. “Children, forbear to fight,” he said. “The Scripture forbids us to render evil for evil. The day which I have long waited for is come; hope in God and He will save your souls.” The furious pagans slaughtered the whole company of fifty-two beside Boniface himself. He had labored forty years in Germany and met thus a martyr’s end when seventy-five years of age. This was in the year 755. His character has been aspersed by some historians, and his submission to the Roman See may be the cause of this. The manner of his death seems a sufficient refutation of these aspersions. The names of many other devoted men could be added to this record, for this period has been called an age of missionaries.

Another remarkable man to whom brief reference must be made is Alcuin. He, too, was an Englishman, born at York in 735. One of the most learned men of the age, he attracted the attention of Charlemagne, who persuaded him to settle in France. He became counselor and tutor to Charlemagne and his family and the distinguished men of his court. This no doubt had a beneficent influence on that monarch. At the instance of Charlemagne he revised the Vulgate Bible.

The second council of Nicea held at this time had enjoined the worship of images. Alcuin opposed its decrees by direct appeal to Scripture. In this he was in opposition to the Pope, who supported the authority of Council. In Britain, too, there was much opposition. The Pope had not at this epoch secured complete ascendancy over the Church in Europe, though his influence was very considerable.

It seems appropriate to close this phase of Church history with details of a body of Christians outside the pale of the Church who form a link between the seventh and ninth centuries. They were known as Paulicians. In the seventh century the Scriptures were little known to the common people, who were dependent on the clergy for their teaching. Books of any kind were rare and expensive, and illiteracy prevailed among both high and low. In the year 660, one Constantine, who lived near Samosata, entertained a prisoner returning from captivity among the Muhammadans and received in return a copy of the New Testament or a large part of it. Through the teaching of the Holy Spirit, he became enlightened. Drawing his doctrine from the fountain of truth, he was free from the errors which filled the Church and veiled in measure the sacred oracles even from those who had access to them. The doctrine of the Apostle Paul seems to have made a deep impression on his mind. This is peculiarly interesting because it was just the Pauline features of truth which the Church had abandoned at the first. Taking the name of Sylvanus, Constantine began, with his followers, to preach the truth. Pontus and Cappadocia were through this means visited by a revival of Christian doctrine. Companies of believers gathering in a simplicity reminiscent of the early days grew up in Asia Minor. They rejected images and superstitions and carried on their worship according to the scriptural pattern. The greatest proof of their genuineness is perhaps in the fact that they attracted to themselves the same bitter persecution which had once fallen upon the early Christians. Sylvanus himself was stoned to death after twenty-seven years of devoted service. Capital punishment was decreed against them and any who harbored them. Their books were burned. For about 180 years they endured persecution. Finally, the Empress Theodora, a fanatical devotee of image worship, made an effort to extinguish them utterly. Her inquisitors ransacked Asia in search of them, and it is said that she put to death by fire and sword and the hangman’s rope a hundred thousand. All this they endured, obedient to the Word: “He that killeth with the sword must be killed with the sword. Here is the patience and the faith of the saints” (Rev. 13:10).

In time, however, the faith of those who escaped death seems to have waned. They took up arms in their own defense, and, with the help of the Muhammadan power, secured their independence. We have here another example of the tares among the wheat, for there is little in common between such a policy and the faithful self-sacrifice of the martyred ones. Rome showed her evil character at this time, for Pope Nicholas (858) greatly applauded the zeal of the Empress in the horrible massacre of the Paulicians.

Chapter 12

The great empire ruled over by Charlemagne fell to pieces after his death. A time of great confusion followed, which was made worse by the frequent invasions of the Normans and the Danes. Their ravages extended along the whole Atlantic coast of Europe, as far south as Spain. Some entered the Mediterranean and raided the coast of Italy. In the south, Europe also suffered from the invasions of the Saracens who occupied southern Spain, besides raiding Italy. From the east came the Hungarians, who penetrated up the Danube valley, devastating Moravia and Bavaria and reaching even further west. Terror, confusion, destruction and misery followed. No large towns were left intact. For protection, fortified centers were established, and the powerful lords in these troublous times became petty rulers in their own domains. Though they acknowledged the King or the Emperor as their sovereign, they were largely independent.

Through these sad and troublous times, which lasted till the early years of the eleventh century, it is difficult to trace the evidences of vital Christianity. The Papacy was growing in power and influence, for its prestige fed upon the chaotic conditions which then existed. What Christian light remained was to be found in individuals who were going against the general current in a greater or lesser degree.

As to the Eastern Church, there is little to be said; it had become an idolatrous system. The rift between it and the See of Rome was ever widening until, in 1056, the Pope of Rome excommunicated and anathematized the patriarch of Constantinople, and the breach between the eastern and western halves of the professing Church became complete and final.

This period witnessed a gradual increase of papal pretensions. Since Constantine the popes had been elected by the priests, nobles and people of Rome, the election being subject to the final consent of the Emperor. During the reign of the weak emperors who followed Charlemagne, an attempt was made to ignore the imperial sanction. On the other hand, the papal confirmation was sought by Charles the Bald for his succession to the empire, thus recognizing the ascendancy of the Pope. After this followed a most vicious period in the history of the Papacy. The election of the popes was now in the hands of wicked leaders and dissolute people who strove against one another for their candidates to the papal chair who were as evil as themselves. The history of the popes in this period is so shameful and obscene that it is amazing that the Papacy did not lose forever the respect of mankind. The German Emperor, Otto III, finally intervened to restore some measure of decency and decorum.

While the papal office was thus weltering in its own shame, the confusion among the peoples of Europe greatly advanced the power of the bishops, many of whom became feudal lords, possessing armed retainers and often leading their soldiers into battle. The bishops had in a large measure usurped the rights of the civil courts by means of their ecclesiastical courts, while within his own domain the bishop combined both secular and ecclesiastical authority. The ninth century has been called “the age of bishops.” At a council of bishops, assembled at Troyes in 878, it was decreed “that the powers of the world should treat the bishops with every sort of respect and that no one should presume to sit down in their presence unless by their command.”

While the primacy of the Roman See had long been recognized and it had often been appealed to to settle disputes, while kings and emperors had sought its sanction and courted its favor, its overriding authority in the Church had not yet been generally recognized, and during the shameful period referred to its prestige suffered. In the matter of image worship, both councils and individuals disputed the papal views. Arnulph of Orleans, who presided over a council held at Rheims in the tenth century, said, “O deplorable Rome, who in the days of our forefathers produced so many burning and shining lights, thou hast brought forth in our times only dismal darkness worthy of the detestation of posterity. What shall we do, or what counsels shall we take? The gospel tells us of a barren fig tree and of the divine patience exercised toward it. Let us bear with our primates as long as we can, and in the meantime seek for spiritual food where it is to be found.

“Certainly there are some in this holy assembly who can testify that in Belgium and Germany there may be found real pastors and eminent men in religion. ... What think you reverend fathers of this man, the Pope, placed on a lofty throne, shining in purple and gold? Whom do you account him? If destitute of love and puffed up with pride of knowledge only, he is Antichrist sitting in the temple of God.”

This prelate lamented that the kings of the earth were committing fornication with the Roman harlot and giving their power to support her grandeur.

From this we are able to infer that even among those who held high office in the Church were men who were enlightened enough to distinguish the abominations that had come into the Church but felt themselves powerless to do anything else than protest. From the testimony of Arnulph and the writings of various individuals we gather that even in this barren period there were men who held the truth of the gospel.

The Paulicians had been destroyed and their remnants scattered by the middle of the ninth century, but there is reason to believe that some of these persecuted individuals carried the Word to the lands of their exile. But ere their light had been extinguished, we behold another arising in the valleys of Piedmont. God raised up a luminary in the person of Claudius, Bishop of Turin. Claudius, who was of Spanish birth, has been called the first of the reformers. He was appointed Bishop of Turin in 817. He was deeply versed in Scripture and contended earnestly for the faith. He opposed the errors of Rome, condemned idolatry and exposed the folly of prayers for the dead. The light he possessed, judging from the fragments of his writings that have survived the ages, is truly remarkable for a time of such darkness. He preached diligently and expounded the Scriptures copiously. While he did not suffer as a martyr, he did not escape persecution, for he says, “In defending this truth, I am become a reproach to my neighbors; those who see me scoff at me and point at me to one another. But the Father of mercies and the God of all consolations has comforted me in my tribulations that I may be able to comfort others who are oppressed with sorrow and affliction. I rely on the protection of Him who has armed me with the armor of righteousness and of faith, the tried shield for my eternal salvation.” Romish writers have admitted that the valleys of Piedmont which belonged to his bishopric preserved his opinions in the ninth and tenth centuries. Whether the Vaudois of those parts originated through his teaching or were only strengthened by it we cannot say, but in those Piedmontese valleys the truth found a refuge in the darkest days of the Dark Ages.

Claudius was not the only light which shone in the ninth century, but he serves as an outstanding example of men whom God used to keep the torch of the testimony burning in days of darkness.

As to the mass of common people in this age of spiritual poverty, there is little to throw light on their religious condition. Ignorance and illiteracy were general. Bibles were, of course, rare and expensive and of use only to the learned few. The people generally were dependent on the oral teaching of the village priest. He was supposed to teach the people the Apostles’ Creed and possibly the Lord’s prayer beside other elements of the Christian faith. This, alas, was interlarded in many instances, no doubt, with the superstitions and idolatry of the times.

Alfred the Great deserves to be mentioned here. He was a truly Christian king, having been brought up in piety from childhood, and his greatness, which is universally acknowledged, stemmed from his Christianity. He was much concerned as to the low state of the Church in England in his time. He laments its condition in the following words: “So great was the decay that there were very few clergy on this side of the Humber who could understand their service books or translate a letter from Latin into English. ... Not many beyond the Humber ... so few that I cannot remember a single one south of the Thames when I came to the kingdom.”

He himself translated some religious books and some of the Psalms. He made wise laws founded on the divine law, and he quotes most of Exodus 20-23, as well as the epistle of the Church at Jerusalem in Acts 15. He also refers to the Lord’s words, “Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (Matt. 7:12), and adds, “He who observes this law needs no other book of laws.” Were wiser words ever uttered by a king? King Alfred was also a supporter of missionary enterprise.

Elfric, Archbishop of Canterbury, presided over a council in 1006 which ordered, among other things, that every parish priest should, on Sundays and holy days, explain to the people in the English tongue the Lord’s prayer, the Creed and the gospel for the day. Limited and mixed as these instructions were, some light doubtless found its way into dark hearts, and the knowledge of the God who created heaven and earth and of His Son who was crucified for us, as the Nicene Creed distinctly states, could be used by the Spirit of God, and doubtless was, to the eternal salvation of souls. When the full and accurate records of heaven are unfolded, it will doubtless be revealed that there was more for God even in those Dark Ages than the records of history would lead us to suppose.

Christianity continued to spread among the still pagan peoples. We read of Slavonic tribes receiving it, of the Russians likewise, and of its progress in the Scandinavian countries. In the tenth century Poland became a Christian country, and the Queen of Russia received baptism in Constantinople. By 987 Christianity was established in Russia under the aegis of the Greek Church, which has ever since been the national Church of Russia.

Doubtless there was much admixture in all this, and many merely changed their religion from paganism to an idolatrous form of Christianity. But God in His providence was over all. The instruments used in this work were often zealous men, true to the little light they had, and there is no doubt that God was pleased by their means to turn many to Himself. In this period kings and princes were often used in the ways of God to give a lead to their subjects, and frequently the Word found its entrance through the instrumentality of a converted princess who influenced her husband in favor of the gospel. In some instances, an outward change was brought about in the national religion by the decree of the ruler, and in some instances it was imposed by force. While true faith could not be produced by such means, it doubtless facilitated the spread of Christian teaching.

An illustration of the practical effects of the gospel in these days is afforded by the record left by Adam of Bremen. Writing in 1089, he says:

“Look at that very ferocious nation of the Danes. For a long time they have been accustomed in the praise of God to resound Halleluia. Look at the piratical people. They are now content with the fruits of their own country. Look at that horrid region formerly altogether inaccessible on account of idolatry; they now eagerly admit the preachers of the Word.”

The tenth century closed with a widespread fear that the year 1000 would usher in the Day of Judgment. It had long been the theme of false prophets, based on a misinterpretation of Revelation 20. Houses and lands were neglected, and as the year approached and concluded, panic spread over Christendom. The guilty consciences of men filled them with terror as they imagined the Day of Judgment had arrived and the end of all things had come.

Chapter 13

With the advent of the eleventh century conditions became more settled in Europe. The successive waves of invaders which had kept the nations in tumult so long had spent their force. The various races mingled, and a new order of society began to take shape — the feudal system, with its rigid distinction between the classes. At the top were the nobility who owned the land, below them a class of armed, professional warriors, while at the bottom were the peasants who cultivated the land and were little more than slaves. Gradually towns began to multiply and the artisan and merchant classes developed. The Church of Rome, meanwhile, was growing in importance and power, the bishops rivaling the nobles in their prestige and influence, and the Papacy was encroaching more and more on the rights of temporal princes. Its Babylonish features were more and more evident. There is a mystic element about the rise of the Papacy which clearly points to supernatural influences. Its gradual ascent to the pinnacle of power which it finally reached was the work of no one man, nor was it consecutive. There were periods of eclipse. Behind its phases and its final achievements can be discerned the working of Satan, whom the Lord called the “prince of this world” (John 12:31) and whom the Apostle Paul designated “the god of this world” (2 Cor. 4:4). God, in His providence, administered checks from time to time, but the “spirit who now works in the sons of disobedience” (Eph. 2:2 JND) was developing his malignant design, which had in view to corrupt the Church with the principles of the world and place at its head a man who would be subservient to him.

Thus was the Church alienated from its true Head, whose life here had been marked by lowliness and meekness, who had said explicitly, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36), and of His disciples, “They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world” (John 17:16). The Church which professed the name of Christ was now ruled by haughty tyrants who scrupled not to plunge nations into war and pour out the blood of untold thousands in the achievement of their reckless ambitions. To realize the papal ambitions, nation was set against nation, and millions marched under the banner of the cross to destroy men for whom the Saviour died. Yet even true believers within the pale of the Romish system were so deluded by the darkness that shrouded the medieval world that they failed to see the appalling inconsistency of these outrageous crusades. But, as the Scripture says, those that dwell on the earth had been made drunk with the wine of her fornications. (See Revelation 17:2.)

The venality of some of the earlier popes brought the papal office into contempt, but there arose in this century a man of a different character who raised the Papacy to an elevation it had never before reached. This was Hildebrand, who became afterwards Pope Gregory VII. The details of his life are hardly germane to our history, but as he was one of the principal architects of the papal edifice, a reference must be made to him. Before he became pope, he had acted as adviser and deputy for several preceding pontiffs, so that when he reached the papal chair, he was already fully equipped for the lofty heights on which it was now placed.

As early as the ninth century a document had been fabricated called the Decretals of Isidore. This lying document attributed extraordinary powers to the Pope, among which was the power of the “keys,” authority to bind or loose the souls of men — attributing to him, in a word, an authority that belonged to God alone. To this was afterwards added the book of Canon law which gave him power to change doctrines of the Church at his will, making him the sole arbiter of faith. Moreover, in the eleventh century the election of the Pope was taken over by the college of cardinals. In theory, the Pope was now the supreme power in the world. It needed only the right man to make the theory effective in practice. This Gregory VII did. The chief prince in Europe at that time was Henry IV of Germany. It was not long before he and the Pope came into conflict. Gregory challenged the Emperor on what seemed very plausible religious grounds, insisting that in future no layman was to appoint anyone to ecclesiastical office, as had often been the custom in the past. Such appointments had been frequently made by the temporal head of the realm. A quarrel ensued. The Pope summoned the Emperor to appear before him at Rome and answer for his disobedience. He followed this up by excommunicating the Emperor and released his subjects from their oath of fidelity. The princes of his own dominions rose up against him and sided with the Pope. The proud emperor humbled himself. In the depth of winter he went across the Alps to appear before the imperious pontiff at the castle of Canossa. For three days he was kept shivering outside in the cold in the garb of a penitent, finally to bow in abject acknowledgment of his guilt before Gregory. A revulsion of feeling took place in the Emperor’s heart, and war between him and the Pope was declared. The Emperor had an anti-pope elected, and the Pope an anti-emperor. The Emperor’s arms prevailed. Rome was attacked and captured, the anti-pope enthroned and the rival popes excommunicated each other. Gregory VII died not long after this, but his successors struggled and fought and intrigued to maintain their authority over the kings of Europe.

The power of Rome lay in her ability to terrorize men. To the masses, whose minds were darkened by error and superstition, the Church represented God. The fears of the superstitious were preyed upon and the consciences of men held in an awful bondage. From the highest to the lowest, men were subject to the terrible ban of excommunication, which virtually outlawed them from society. Anyone who showed kindness or rendered assistance was also excommunicated. We see how this worked in the case of the Emperor of Germany, but if a monarch’s subjects remained loyal to him, there was the further penalty of interdict, by which the whole land was deprived of all the offices of the Church. No marriage could be celebrated. Even the dead remained unburied. The effect of this on the minds of the superstitious and the consciences of those piously inclined can well be imagined. The reader will recall that it was the Pope’s interdict that brought King John of England to his knees and compelled him to receive his crown from the papal legate.

While the power of the popes was exalted to such heights, the corruptions within the Church continually increased. The unscriptural doctrine of purgatory was nothing new, nor the reverence for relics, nor the worship of images, but to these things other abominations were added as time went on. The Lord’s supper had long since lost its simple character. It now became a sacrifice offered by the priest to make atonement for sins. The doctrine of transubstantiation — the notion that the consecration of the bread and wine transformed them into the actual body and blood of Christ — had been mooted in the ninth century. It was confirmed in 1215 by Pope Innocent III as an article of faith. But the corruption was carried further and the consecrated wafer made an object of worship, and when it was raised, the people were made to fall upon their knees and worship it. Auricular confession (the priest’s pretended authority to forgive sins), indulgences, absolutions and dispensations gave the Roman hierarchy an awful, if false, power over the souls of men. The place of the only Mediator, Christ Jesus, was taken by sinful men claiming the right to forgive sins on payment of money and enforcing their claims by holding the terrors of hell over the consciences of their dupes. All this brought a crop of evil too awful to contemplate. Every sin had its price and could be committed with impunity.

The celibacy of the clergy had been the custom of the Church for a long time, but it was not universally followed. Gregory VII determined to enforce it strictly. Those who had wives were ordered to dismiss them, and if they refused, they were taken from them by force. Many resigned their ecclesiastical appointments rather than sacrifice their wives. Happy homes were broken up and many were driven to despair or even insanity, while the passions of others found an outlet in secret sin. This unnatural and unscriptural law was another of the abominations which filled the cup of the harlot of Rome.

It seems that from very early times, piously inclined persons had sought to escape from the world and live in solitude, thinking thereby to become purer and more spiritual — a practice to which the New Testament lends no countenance. Such were the early anchorites or hermits. In the fourth century, communities of monks came into existence. In the Dark Ages the monasteries had often proved the refuge of true piety and learning, and, as we have seen, many a missionary went forth from their walls. But the system degenerated. In attempting to escape from the world, monks and nuns took the world with them in their own hearts, and the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life in due course filled these communities. Various attempts were made to reform them, and new and stricter orders came into being.

By the Middle Ages the monkish orders had become numerous and monasteries had greatly multiplied. They were exempted from the superintendence of the local bishop and made directly responsible to the Vatican. Thereby, their fortunes were bound up with the Papacy, of which they became the willing and obedient instruments, and they were contaminated by its vices of ambition and avarice and, provided they did not displease their master, were largely a law unto themselves. The corruption of the monastic orders was for long a recognized scandal in Christendom. Complaints were voiced at the Council of Paris in 1212 and at that of the Lateran in 1215. Fresh orders arose and still stricter rules were enforced, but decay set in again and again. Such were the evils of a system both unscriptural and unnatural. On the other hand, these institutions carried out various charitable services. The poor found relief, the traveller a resting-place, or the outcast a refuge, while many an earnest, if deluded, follower of Christ spent his life within their walls. They were one of the great features of civilized life in the Middle Ages and one of the great bulwarks of the papal regime.

Before leaving this subject, we may briefly mention the rise of the mendicant orders, the Friars, who wandered from place to place and lived on the alms of the people. These began with the Dominicans, who were commissioned to convert the Albigenses. Contemporary with them arose the Franciscan order.

Out of the Dominican order rose that terrible instrument of persecution, the Inquisition. These traveling orders became, in course of time, competitors of the regular clergy, whose functions they, to some extent, usurped. They became the universal emissaries of the Pope. They penetrated the homes of the rich and the poor, became constant attendants on the deathbed of the rich, arranged wills to their own advantage, and thus diverted the wealth of the people to their own or the Church’s benefit. Beginning with vows of poverty, they acquired both wealth and influence.

Another evil fruit of popery was the crusades. Pope Sylvester II urged the warriors of Europe to turn the swords they used on one another against the infidel — against those who dominated the Holy Land — promising them that thereby they would gain pardon for all their crimes. That the abominable notion that men could atone for their murders and thefts and adulteries by slaying the heathen could ever have been seriously proposed and really believed only shows the depths of Satanic darkness into which Christendom had sunk. For two centuries the crusades continued, some of them consisting of bands of unarmed children who ventured forth with the fanatical idea that their very appearance would overwhelm the infidel, only to perish miserably before reaching their destination. It is said that over seven million so-called Christians perished by sword or famine or pestilence, and half as many Saracens died as a result of these wicked and foolish campaigns. The flower of Europe’s manhood was thus squandered, and the kings and nobles were weakened and impoverished. In the end all was lost, and by 1291 Palestine was again in infidel hands. Even this was turned to account by papal craft, for in 1300 the goal of pilgrimage was skillfully changed from Jerusalem to Rome. But the wealth and power of the Papacy still increased and the next crusades were directed against those harmless followers of Christ, the Albigenses.

In this period the Church became the outstanding feature of the world. The treasures of human art and skill were devoted to it; the wealth and glory of the world flowed into it. It is said that in the twelfth century one-half of the cultivated land of Europe was ecclesiastical property. Kings bowed before the man who pretended to be its head; the masses were slaves to its dogmas and superstitions. To maintain its malign authority and keep men under its evil spell, it denied them the one source of light and life, the Holy Scriptures. The time came when to possess or read them was a capital crime. Things got worse rather than better up to the time of the Reformation. In their lust for power and by their continual extortions, the popes came into conflict with the secular powers. At times there were rival popes who attempted to excommunicate each other, and they strove for the support of rival political factions in Europe. The general state of the clergy and the people was utterly corrupt. A Roman Catholic historian has written:

“The people were faithful only in name; princes and subjects, clergy and laity had all alike departed from purity of faith and morals. Sacrilege and violence, gross fornication, injustice, luxury and a long catalog of other sins betokened that the love of many had waxed cold and that faith was no longer found in the earth. The bishops were grossly negligent, dumb dogs, not able to bark, acceptors of persons, leaving the sheep to wolves as hirelings, given to simony, and followers of Gehazi.”

Frederic II of Germany, writing to King Henry III of England, said, “The Roman Church burns with avarice; it is not ashamed to despoil sovereign princes and make them tributary; it is known by its fruits. It sends on every side legates with power to punish, to suspend, and to excommunicate — not to diffuse the Word of God, but to amass money. It professes to be our mother and nurse, while it is our stepmother and the source of every evil.”

Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, said of the bishops, “They are ministers of Christ, but servants of Antichrist; the gold on their spurs, their reins and saddles is brighter than on their altars; their tables are splendid with dishes and cups, thence their drunkenness and gluttony; their larders are stored with provisions and their cellars overflow with wine — and for such rewards as these, men seek to become bishops, for these things are not bestowed on merit, but on things which walk in darkness.”

He wrote scathingly, too, of the intemperance, feasting and revels of the monks and their voluptuous prodigality.

Chapter 14

The history of the professing Church in the Middle Ages is one of such darkness and corruption that it seems impossible that any elements of light or truth could remain within it. Yet we find that there lived amid the gloom men who bear the hallmark of true piety and who held, though mingled with current superstitions, the essential truths of the gospel. That such men influenced others cannot be doubted, and for everyone whose name has been recorded in history we do not doubt there were many others whose names are known to God alone.

Such a man was Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury during the reigns of William Rufus and Henry I. He reluctantly accepted the See of Canterbury in the time of King Rufus, but everything was in such iniquitous confusion that he retired to the Continent until the King’s death. There he spent his time in writing against certain old heresies which were then being revived. He returned on the accession of Henry I, and among the abuses he was instrumental in correcting was the sale of human beings, which had till then been practiced in England.

It is true he upheld the claims of the Pope against the King. The great subject of controversy at the time was whether bishops should be appointed by the King or the Pope. As a faithful churchman he felt that kings, especially a tyrant like Rufus, had no right in such a matter. The source of all these difficulties lay in the fact that the whole system was unscriptural and the Church was a recognized part of the world.

Anselm’s writings show that he had the fundamentals of the gospel in his heart. He appealed constantly to the Scriptures and expounded them by opening up the plain grammatical sense. A few extracts from his writings will support these statements. The following is part of some directions he composed for the visitation of the sick. First of all, the sick man was to be asked, “Dost thou believe thou deservest damnation?” “Dost thou intend to lead a new life?” If he said yes to these two questions, he was to be told, “Dost thou believe thou canst not be saved but by the death of Christ?” If the answer was again in the affirmative, he was to be told, “See then while life remains in thee that thou repose thy confidence only in the death of Christ; trust in nothing else; commit thyself wholly to this death. ... And if the Lord will judge thee, say, Lord, I cast the death of our Lord Jesus Christ between myself and Thy judgment.”

In another work he says, “If natural possibility by freewill, as the wise of this world say, be sufficient unto salvation, both for knowledge and for practice, then Christ is dead in vain and His cross is of none effect. But so surely as human salvation depends on the cross, so surely is that secular wisdom convicted of folly which knows not the virtue of the cross and substitutes a phantom of human merit and ability in its room.”

How he satisfied his conscience in respect to the superstitions and idolatrous practices in the Church we cannot explain, but he indicates clearly that for him there was but one mediator — the Man Christ Jesus — saying, “To what other intercessor I can have recourse I know not except to Him who is the propitiation of our sins.” He addresses the Son of God as “the Redeemer of captives, the Saviour of the lost, the hope of exiles, the strength of the distressed, the enlarger of the enslaved spirit, the sweet solace and refreshment of the mournful soul, the crown of conquerors, the only reward and joy of the citizens of heaven, the copious source of all grace.”

That he enjoyed as well as believed is demonstrated by the following extract from his writing: “Hasten the time, my Saviour and my God, when what I now believe I may see with eyes uncovered, what I now hope and reverence at a distance I may apprehend, what I now desire according to the measure of my strength I may affectionately embrace in the arms of my soul, and that I may be wholly absorbed in the abyss of Thy love.”

God has had His witnesses in every station of life. An example of such at this period was Margaret, Queen of Scotland. She is said to have been a woman of the rarest piety and to have had a great influence not only on her husband but on the whole kingdom of Scotland. Theodoric, a monk, who wrote her life, says, “She would discourse with me concerning the sweetness of everlasting life in such a manner as to draw tears from my eyes.” Her daughter Matilda, who became the wife of Henry I of England, was also looked upon as a pious Christian.

Still earlier in this century there had appeared at Orleans in France two remarkable witnesses for the truth, Stephen and Ledric, both canons of the Church. They were men of piety and learning, loved and revered by the people. They taught the truth of God in purity and sincerity. A man who pretended to be a seeker after the truth desired to be instructed in their teaching, but it was base hypocrisy; he listened only to betray. They were apprehended, brought before a Council at Orleans, condemned to the fire and burned at the stake in 1022. These were the first martyrs in France since pagan days.

Berengarius of Tours, who lived in this century, deserves a brief mention, for he attacked the doctrine of transubstantiation, which had been hatched by the monk Paschasius Radbertus in the ninth century. He stirred up a veritable hornet’s nest. His scriptural views, which found support all over Christendom, were condemned by a succession of Councils. Brought before the Pope, he recanted but soon lapsed and continued to teach as before. This happened several times, and he finally died in his bed in 1088, greatly regretting his weakness in not standing boldly for the truth.

In 1091 was born Bernard of Clairvaux, author of two well-known hymns, which, in the English translation, are doubtless familiar to the reader: “Jesus, the very thought of Thee with sweetness fills the breast” and “O Head once full of bruises.”

Bernard showed signs of an earnest desire after heavenly things while still a child and, like so many, was attracted to a monastic life. His zeal was unbounded, his austerities so extreme as to damage his health. He was very studious and became a learned as well as a religious man. He joined the strictest of the monastic orders, the Cistercian. Entirely free from ambition, he refused several bishoprics but became abbot of the monastery of Clairvaux. His piety, his learning and his eloquence earned for him a great reputation, and he was looked up to throughout Christendom. He was well versed in Scripture, sound in the fundamentals of Christianity and a true lover of Christ, yet he was an ardent supporter of the Papacy. Doubtless the false notion of Apostolic succession had been inbred in him by his monkish training. To him the Church doubtless appeared as the one universal Church which could trace its origin in unbroken continuity to the days of the apostles. Bernard and others like him were indeed aware that it was besmirched with many evils, which, had they had the power, they would gladly have corrected. They hoped by their influence to improve and reform what they deplored. His zeal for the crusades seems even more inexplicable, but thick darkness pervaded Christendom. The superstitious reverence for the holy places of Palestine and the ill treatment of pilgrims by the Saracens no doubt influenced minds born and bred in such an age.

Pope Eugenius III was one of his scholars. With great pleasure Bernard saw him assume the papal chair, for he looked for great things from him. In a letter to him he wrote, “All the Church of the saints rejoices in the Lord, expecting from you what it seemed to have had in none of your predecessors for many ages past. And should not I rejoice? I own I do so, but with trembling. ... I consider your elevation, and I dread a fall.” After further exhortation, he says, “Oh that I might see before I die the Church of God as in ancient times when the apostles let down their nets for a draught, not for silver and gold, but of souls! How I wish you to inherit the voice of him who said, ‘Thy money perish with thee’ (Acts 8:20).”

To these he added further sober and wholesome admonitions. In this we see the true desires of a man who, though in the Romish system, was of a different spirit. The Pope to whom he wrote seems to have been an upright, well-meaning man. His term of office was short and full of trouble. He probably knew too much of what was right to be a useful tool of the devil. He incurred only enmity and opposition and finally had to fly from Rome to France to escape the fury of his enemies.

Bernard realized the Church needed to be cleansed, and he went on with it hoping to see the day when, as he said, it would resume its pristine purity. His opposition to the Cathari and other so-called heretics was probably due to false information. They were terribly misrepresented by their enemies. He expressed surprise at their godliness and good behavior, yet it does not seem to have occurred to him that these things were the fruits of the Spirit. Their unpardonable crime was that they had seceded from the Church and therefore were its enemies. It is said he did not favor their destruction.

Bernard effectually silenced, but not by carnal weapons, a real heretic, Abelard, who was writing profusely at that time. Abelard’s teaching was similar to present-day modernism and denied all that was vital in Christianity. He represented the death of Christ simply as a great example, denying its atoning value. The two men met in a public debate before an illustrious assembly, the King and many nobles and bishops being present. Bernard went in faith, making no preparation, relying on the Lord’s words, “It shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak” (Matt. 10:19). Abelard withdrew from the contest without reply and cast himself on the mercy of the Pope. He spent the rest of his life in a monastery. In answering Abelard’s heresy, Bernard brought into relief the cross of Christ as the very basis of redemption. “Great and necessary,” said he, “was the example of humility; great and worthy of all acceptation was the example of His love. But remove redemption and these have no ground to stand upon. I would follow the humble Jesus. I desire to embrace with the arms of love Him who loved me and gave Himself for me, but I must eat the Paschal Lamb. Unless I eat His flesh and drink His blood, I have no life in me. It is one thing to follow Jesus, another to embrace Him, another to feed upon Him. ... Therefore neither examples of humility nor displays of love are anything without redemption.”

We see from this brief extract how clear Bernard was as to that great foundation of the Christian faith — redemption. As in other days, this attack of the enemy recoiled against himself, and the truth itself was brought into clearer relief and more widely spread abroad. Among his writings is a tract containing the substance of a sermon he preached before the clergy at Paris. In it he insists on the necessity of divine illumination as a requisite to genuine conversion, urges self-examination, and points out the salutary effect of a true conviction of sin.

“Wholesome is that weakness which needs the hand of the Physician, and blessed is the self-despair through which God Himself will raise and establish the heart. Even here the converted soul shall find the pleasures to which he is called a hundredfold greater than those he has relinquished, as well as, in the world to come, eternal life. Expect not from us a description of their nature. The Spirit alone reveals them; they are to be known only by experience. Not erudition but unction teaches here; not knowledge but inward consciousness comprehends them. That the memory of past sins should remain and the stain of them be taken away —what power can effect this? The Word alone, quick and powerful and sharper than a two-edged sword. ‘Thy sins are forgiven’ (Luke 5:20). Let the Pharisees murmur, ‘Who can forgive sins, but God alone?’ (Luke 5:21). He who speaks thus to me is God. His favor blots out guilt. Sin remains in the memory but no longer, as before, discolors it. Remove damnation, fear and confusion as they are removed by full remission, and our past sins will not only cease to hurt us but will work together for good that we may devoutly thank Him who has forgiven them.”

Towards the close of this address he rebukes those who bring worldly ambition into the service of God. “Men run everywhere into sacred orders and catch at an office revered by spirits above, without reverence, without consideration, in whom, perhaps, would appear the foulest abominations if we were, according to Ezekiel’s prophecy, to dig into the walls and contemplate the horrible things which take place in the house of God.”

Much else might be quoted to show how closely Bernard kept to the truth of Scripture, that he was a true lover of Christ, and that he was conscious of the power of the Holy Spirit. His sincerity and humility were universally recognized. He disclaimed any virtue or ability of his own, attributing all to divine grace. He studied, among other scriptures, the Song of Songs and discerned in it a figure of the love of Christ for the Church, His great condescension toward it, though sullied and dishonored by sin, and the reciprocal affection of the Church for Christ. He does not seem to have distinguished the visible Church, seen in the Roman system, from the true body of Christ. He hoped and prayed for its reformation. This may explain his attitude towards the professing Church and his willingness to remain in it and serve the Pope, who was, he doubted not, Peter’s successor. It is sad that he was so far carried away by the current of these times as to preach the second crusade and by his eloquence and influence to lead thousands to lose their lives in that awful disaster. Thousands of wives and mothers bemoaned their dead and blamed Bernard for persuading them to go. His reply was that God did not support the crusade because of their sins. His detractors have attributed this reply to cunning, but one cannot doubt his sincerity; he shared in the common delusion.

Bernard died, after a painful illness, in 1153, being sixty-three years of age. His life was probably shortened by the effect of the austerities of his early life as a monk.

Peter De Bruys (D. 1126)

This man labored in the Dauphiné for twenty years. His teaching seems to have been none other than the apostles’ doctrine. He was seized and burned to death in 1126 at St. Giles, North Toulouse. His followers were called Petrobrussians.

Henri the Heretic (1143)

A gospel preacher of great sanctity, Henri traversed a large part of Switzerland and southern France. Such power marked his preaching that his enemies said the enchantment of his voice was enough to melt the very stones. Crowds came to hear him. It is said that where he preached the churches were emptied and the idolatrous customs of the Church neglected. Even Bernard of Clairvaux was stirred up to preach against him, for, as we have seen, Bernard, with all his saintliness, never ceased to be a blind devotee of Rome. Henri was condemned and imprisoned and disappeared. History is silent as to his fate. His followers were named Henricians.

Arnold of Brescia (1155)

A simple monk, this man had great plans for a radical reformation of the Church. The Church of Christ, said he, is not of this world. Set the clergy free, he said, from temporal wealth and temporal duties to become free to serve the flock. “He demanded nothing less than that this hierarchy, which has crowned itself with temporal dignities and which sustained itself by temporal arms, should retrace its steps and become the lowly and purely spiritual institution it had been in the first century.” He was condemned to silence and retired to Zurich where he continue to disseminate his doctrines. Later he dared to enter Rome and carry his teachings into the enemy’s camp. Rome was, in those days, in a state of continual ferment. His teaching fell on barren soil. An outward reform was not God’s way. Arnold paid for his boldness by his life. He was seized and burned to death, and his ashes were thrown into the Tiber.

From the twelfth century to the time of Wycliffe there are scarcely any others in the Romish Church whose names come within the scope of our record. Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln, spoke boldly against the growing abuses of the Papacy, but his evangelical light was dim.

The testimony of Christ was more and more to be found with a growing body of persons outside the pale of Rome, a body of persecuted and despised heretics by whom the gospel torch was kept burning till that great revival called the Reformation cast its brilliant beams upon the world.

Chapter 15

We have already noticed certain bodies of persons who in very early times were found outside the professing Church. Mention has been made of the Priscillianists, the Nestorians and the Paulicians. The two latter continued to exist for some centuries in the East. The last remnants of the Paulicians were scattered after terrible persecution in the ninth century.

In the valleys of Piedmont in northern Italy the truths of Christianity were preserved by a pious and earnest people who clung to “the faith once delivered to the saints” (Jude 3 JND) and lived such irreproachable lives that their worst enemies were compelled to admit that the only fault that could be found with them was that they were opposed to the Church of Rome and all the idolatry and superstition that had become attached to it. These people were called Vaudois.

Reynerus Sacco, inquisitor of the Vaudois, recorded that they were followers of a certain Leon who lived in the third century, and he held that there was no sect so pernicious to the Church for three reasons: (1) because it was the most ancient of all, some deriving its origin from the apostles themselves, (2) because it was the most extensive, there being scarcely any country into which it had not penetrated, and (3) because instead of inspiring horror as other sects did by their frightful blasphemies against the Deity, it had a great appearance of piety, since its members “lived justly before God and received the apostles’ creed, but they blasphemed against the Roman Church and clergy.”

This testimony is confirmed by Claude de Seyssel, Archbishop of Turin, whose bishopric included these valleys. “The sect of the Vaudois,” says he, “took its origin from one Leon, a truly religious man, who, in the time of Constantine the Great, detecting the extreme avarice of Pope Sylvester and the lavish expenditure of Constantine, preferred living in poverty, with simplicity of faith, to the reproach of accepting a rich benefice with Sylvester. To this Leon all attached themselves who thought rightly of their creed. There must be some important and efficacious reason why this Vaudois sect had endured during so many ages. Again all kinds of different attempts to extirpate them have been made at different times, but they always remained victorious and absolutely invincible, contrary to the expectations of all.” This was written in 1500 A.D.

Space does not allow a complete description of this remarkable body of Christians, who clearly maintained the truth of Christianity among themselves during the Dark Ages, when the Church was becoming more and more corrupt. They held to the truth of Scripture and refused all else as false. They had at least a large part of the Scriptures in their own tongue. An ancient author tells of one of their peasants who could repeat the whole book of Job from memory and of others who had the New Testament at their fingertips. Their piety was proverbial. They were poor, hard working, honest and trustworthy. Their lives accorded with their profession.

An interesting old document called The Noble Lesson, written by one of the Vaudois, throws light on their doctrine and practice. They regarded the Papacy as Antichrist, which, they said, began in apostolic times but was then in its infancy, but in their days was full-grown. “It had assumed,” says one of them, writing in 1120, “an appearance of external sanctity, even using the sayings of Christ Himself to cover its enormities.” This writer admitted that there were some who really lived to God in Babylon, but Antichrist sought to hinder them from putting all their hope in Christ alone. “Knowing these things,” he says, “we depart from Antichrist, according to express scriptural directions. We unite ourselves to the truth of Christ and His spouse, however small she may appear.” It is interesting to see how this writer, even in that dark day, was able to distinguish the true Church from the false system of Rome.

The valleys of Piedmont seem to have been the cradle in which this truly Christian testimony was nurtured during the darkest periods of the history of the Church. But the truth gradually spread. In southern France there were the Albigenses who formed a fairly homogeneous community and shared the faith and characteristics of the Waldenses. Christians bearing the same features were to be found, too, in Germany and other Continental countries, under various names.

A German monk, writing of them at that time, says, “They are armed with all those passages of Holy Scripture which in any degree seem to favor their views. ... They are increased to great multitudes throughout all countries.” “They declare,” says the same writer, “that the true faith and worship of Christ is nowhere to be found but in their meetings, which they hold in cellars and weaving rooms.” This testimony shows that they followed the Scriptures and were separate from the professing Church and its false worship. It indicates too that they were numerous and widespread. These simple believers exerted a powerful influence on those around, and many shared their faith who were not prepared actually to leave the Church. Such continued to attend the public services of the Church while accepting, in a measure, the Scriptural teaching of their more separate brethren. The light was by this means spread among the common people and even among the monks and friars of the Roman Church.

About the middle of the twelfth century lived Peter Waldo, a rich merchant of Lyons. Deeply affected by the sudden death of a friend, he began to seek after God. He gave up his occupation and parted with much of his wealth, giving bountifully to the poor. He also tried to help them spiritually, and his liberality made them the more ready to listen. Being well educated, he could read the Latin Bible, for none in French then existed. Thus he taught the people from the Word itself. It was a strange thing in those days for a layman to be teaching and preaching. Ere long this brought him into trouble with the clergy. He realized what a boon it would be for the people to be able to read the Bible in their own language, and he proceeded to meet this need.

His knowledge of the Scriptures increasing, he saw more plainly than ever how utterly at variance with the truth the prevailing system was. He condemned the errors of Rome and thereby incurred its wrath. Being anathematized by the Pope, he had to escape. His followers, too, were scattered, but the dispersion, as in the first century, only resulted in the truth being more widely spread. His teachings were so congenial to the Vaudois of Piedmont that the two movements tended to coalesce, and the term Waldenses became general for those who professed the faith of the gospel. Humble and unlettered folk, they have left little in the way of literature to record their lives and teaching, and much has to be derived from the testimony of their enemies. These, however, testify that they read the Holy Scriptures frequently; “they taught men to live by the words of the gospel and the apostles; they led religious lives, that their manners were seasoned with grace, their words prudent, they discoursed freely of divine things, they taught their children the Scriptures, they were blameless, without reproach among men, and observed the divine commands with all their might.”

Rome viewed the growth of this so-called heresy with alarm and pursued them with violence. Lies and calumnies of the basest kind were spread regarding them. When the Inquisition was instituted in 1206, they were among the earliest objects of its activities. They were driven from their homes and treated with every cruelty the evil mind of man could contrive. Many were tortured, and many were burned alive. Those in the hitherto sheltered valleys of the Alps were driven ruthlessly over the mountains to perish in the snows or stifled to death in the caves in which they sought to find refuge. Mothers with infants in their arms died thus without pity. Such is the nature of religious zeal when the heart is not warmed by divine grace — such the inveterate hatred of Satan for those who follow Christ.

The Albigenses, who were very numerous in the region of Toulouse, became the object of a violent crusade proclaimed by the Pope. Early in the thirteenth century, Simon de Montfort of England, urged on by the papal decree, invaded the realm of Raymond of Toulouse, whose subjects were Albigenses, plundered the country and destroyed the inhabitants with ruthless barbarity. These awful persecutions dragged on century after century, and hardly anywhere in Europe were the Waldenses immune from attack. How could they have endured if divine grace and power had not sustained them? But the enemy could not stamp out the faith of Christ. God thus maintained throughout the Dark Ages, not only individual witnesses, but a people bearing the features of the true Church “outside the camp” (Heb. 13:11, 13 JND).

It was from the Waldenses that a Franciscan monk named Raynard Lollard received the light. He who had before been a persecutor became a preacher of the gospel and finally suffered as a martyr, being burned at the stake at Cologne.

In spite of this continual and violent persecution, it is said that at the time of the Reformation there were 800,000 Waldenses in Europe, which probably includes all who held such views. Those in the south of France continued to suffer right up to the time of the French Revolution. In England this movement does not seem to have got a footing till the time of Wycliffe. There is, however, a poignant account of thirty of these simple Christians who came to England from Germany in the reign of Henry II. They were brought before a council of the clergy at Oxford. Their spokesman said they were Christians, believed the doctrine of the apostles, and denied purgatory, prayers for the dead and the invocation of saints. The King, in conjunction with the Council, ordered them to be branded with a hot iron on the forehead, to be whipped through Oxford, to have their clothes cut short by their girdles, and to be turned into the open fields, expressly forbidding anyone to succor them. It was the depth of winter, and the whole company perished, as was intended, by cold and starvation. They died patient and serene, repeating the Lord’s words, “Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:10). This was in 1159. It was this Henry whose fit of anger led to the murder of Thomas à Becket in 1170.

On the Continent, however, the movement continued to spread during the twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, doubtless greatly aided by the Romance version of the Bible which had been translated under the superintendence of Peter Waldo. Part of the Bible was also translated into German in 1203. These Christians were numerous in Piedmont, the Dauphiné, Naples, Sicily and southern Italy, all over the south of France, the Netherlands, Flanders, Brabant, northern France and Spain. They were called by many names: Leonists, Poor Men of Lyons, Waldenses, Vaudois, Cathari, Italian Brethren, Swiss Brethren, Brethren of Lombardy and Apostolic Brethren. They spoke of one another simply as brethren.

There were among them many who traveled as merchants and peddlers, whose main object was to disseminate the truth, and who would carry with their wares Scripture portions which they sold and sometimes gave away. Thus the truth spread with great rapidity all over Europe, and Rome awoke to find that its very foundations were being sapped by what to her was heresy, but what was, in reality, none other than the truth of the gospel. There were many who did not publicly leave the Church, who still attended the mass and Church festivals, but who, nevertheless, held the simple truths of the gospel.

Among them were many who were not wholly delivered from the errors of Rome. This is not to be wondered at. It is said, moreover, that these “brethren,” while receiving the whole of Scripture as inspired, were inclined to put the epistles on a lower level than the gospels and thereby missed some of the vital truths taught in the writings of Paul. In some parts they established houses for the care of the poor and infirm. They were constant objects of persecution; in 1212 five hundred were seized at Strasbourg (including nobles, priests, rich and poor, men and women), of whom eighty were burned to death. Still they continued to multiply all over Europe. It was said that in 1260 they had more schools and scholars in Lombardy, Provence and elsewhere than the “orthodox.” They partook of the Lord’s supper in its scriptural simplicity and had their own meeting rooms.

The Emperor Lewis of Germany protected them, and his realm was laid under interdict by the Pope and he was himself accused of being tainted by heresy. He had received and harbored Marsilius, rector of the University of Paris. This man had dared to question Romish teaching publicly and fled to the Court of Lewis in 1328, where he became the Emperor’s physician until 1342.

During the interdict a famous preacher in the Roman Church, Dr. Tauler, continued to minister to the people. He was a pious man but deeply involved in the teaching of Rome and without the light of salvation. God was pleased to use one of these Waldensian brethren (Nicholas of Basle, according to some) for his conversion, and he became a channel of blessing, the living water flowing to many thirsty and benighted souls. He preached in the city of Strasbourg. Two centuries later Luther himself read with interest and approval the sermons of Dr. Tauler, for they contained much that he, himself, had been taught by God.

In 1348-1349 the Black Death visited Europe, and a large proportion of the population of Europe was swept away by this awful pestilence. May we not believe that many of these had already “passed from death unto life” (John 5:24) through the gospel, which despite the opposition of Rome, was reaching many thirsty souls?

Chapter 16

The two centuries preceding the Reformation were a time of rapid change and material progress. Towns and cities were growing and multiplying. Commerce and industry were developing and opportunities for education increasing. New universities were being founded in Europe; the rigid feudal social order was changing, and opportunities for men to rise from the lower ranks of society to the higher were increasing. Among the upper classes it was a time of fashion and ostentation; the clerical class had become very wealthy; the Church indeed owned a very large proportion of Europe’s riches. Magnificent churches, cathedrals and other religious buildings were arising. But if material conditions were improving, moral conditions remained very low. Greed, robbery, violence and immorality were rampant. The professing Church, instead of setting an example of righteous and holy living, was thoroughly corrupt. Of the clergy of that time, a contemporary historian says, “These were held to be holy people ... yet they live so shamefully and filthily one could not find a worse people in the world. ... They could not be reined in nor punished, because they were under the jurisdiction of the Pope alone.”

The masses were blinded by superstition, which was cunningly exploited by the Church. Its power lay in its hold over men’s consciences. The day of judgment and the everlasting torments of hell were kept before their eyes. Such things were pictorially represented on the walls of the churches and elsewhere. True, the cross and the Saviour’s death were also portrayed, but little or no effort was made to bring the truth of free pardon in virtue of that death before men. Between the Saviour and men were a host of mediators: the Virgin Mary, the innumerable saints, the Pope, the priest and the father confessor. The Scriptures were deliberately withheld and were a closed book even to most of the clergy. The services were in Latin, and that mostly attended by the people was the mass, a ceremony which they did not understand because it was in a foreign tongue, and, if they did, it was an awful perversion of the truth; the simplicity of the Lord’s supper had been converted into an idolatrous ceremonial. When the priest uttered the sacred formula in Latin, the wafer was said to be changed into the very body of Christ and became an object of worship. Men were taught that absolution lay in the power of the priest and, above all, in the power of the Pope. This was the plenitude of papal power. From his lofty throne he claimed authority over the rulers of the world. As the vice-regent of God on earth he was over all and subject to none. His word was law. If kings refused, he could wield the awful power of excommunication. Should they, as in the case of King John, challenge the Pope, his subjects were absolved from their oaths of fealty, his kingdom was handed over to rival monarchs, and his country was laid under interdict, which meant the consolations of religion, such as they were, were refused to men; even the dead were denied Christian burial. In a day of superstition and ignorance, the masses were thus terrorized.

The popular preachers were the friars, whose object was to amuse rather than instruct. Loose jokes and even obscenities were mixed with the public sermons. The Festival of Fools, which was held in the churches in many places, was a profane burlesque of religion. It was, however, so popular that when it was prohibited in 1444, the inferior clergy rebelled against the prohibition. The Festival of Asses was celebrated throughout Europe for centuries. During the proceedings, an ass was brought into the church and all manner of vulgar antics indulged in. Some have tried to palliate all this and pretend that matters were not so bad as they have been painted. Lest it be thought we are exaggerating, let the words of a Roman Catholic opponent of the Reformation be cited. Cardinal Bellarmine (1542-1621) wrote:

“Some years before the Lutheran and Calvinistic heresies broke out, according to the testimony of contemporary writers, there was no strictness in the ecclesiastical courts, no discipline in regard to morals, no knowledge of theology — there was hardly anything of religion remaining.”

Had Christianity indeed died out? No! Real Christians were, for the most part, with the Waldenses, the Lollards, or other so-called heretical sects. We have already given a glimpse of these faithful and persecuted folk in a previous chapter. Yet doubtless here and there in Rome itself were secret believers who had tasted the water of life. D’Aubigné tells of a monk named Arnoldi who every day offered up in his quiet cell this fervent prayer: “O Lord Jesus Christ! I believe that Thou alone art my redemption and my righteousness.” He also tells of a Carthusian friar, who having written a truly Christian confession, in which he based his salvation solely on the work of Christ, placed it in a box and hid it in a hole in the wall of his cell where it was found centuries afterwards — a touching tribute to living faith in an age of darkness.

We hesitate to burden the reader with the shameful record of the Papacy at this time, and yet if a true picture is to be drawn of the times, some brief details must be given. At times during this period there were two or even three popes. Each cursed and excommunicated his rival. During the great schism that lasted from 1378 to 1409, there were always two popes, one at Rome and one at Avignon. The countries of Europe were divided by their allegiance to one or the other. From 1409 to 1415 there were three popes. From 1415 to 1417 there were again two. The Council of Constance recognized Martin V, but there was still an anti-pope till 1429. Two of the rival popes, Urban VI and Clement the VII, waged war against each other. Alexander the VI (1492) obtained the papal chair by bribery. He was given up to every species of vice. Head of a system which demanded celibacy of its clergy, he lived himself in unholy alliance with a celebrated beauty and employed his influence to promote to lucrative posts his five illegitimate children. An Italian historian says of him, “By his shameful vices, his cruelty, his treachery, his sensuality and his unheard of avarice, he poisoned the world like a venomous snake.” He perished by drinking a poisoned draught which he had had prepared for others. Julius II, who followed him shortly after (1503-1513), was a bloodthirsty soldier, spending much of his time in camp with his troops. He devoted all his energies to the reestablishment of the papal sovereignty and the extinction of foreign domination in Italy. His successor, Leo X, 1513-1522, is described as a clever politician, a spendthrift and a voluptuary. He was the pope against whom Luther stood up. To find money for his extravagances, he encouraged the abominable traffic in indulgences.

It seems incredible that reasonable men could tolerate such enormities and give any respect to the barefaced hypocrites who masqueraded as heads of the Church. As a matter of fact, the Papacy did lose the respect of decent-minded people in Europe. A continual outcry for reform finally found its answer in the Council of Constance, but the wily papists succeeded in avoiding anything of value in the way of reform.

The powers of darkness prepared new forces to support the decaying fabric of the Papacy and maintain its hold upon the deluded masses. In the year that King John signed the Magna Carta, the order of the Franciscans was instituted by Innocent III, and a few years later his successor instituted the Dominican order. The idea did not originate with the Pope, nor was it a carefully premeditated plan of the cardinals. One day, as Innocent was sunning himself on the terrace of the Lateran, a haggard figure approached him, clothed in rags. It was St. Francis of Assisi. He laid hurriedly before the Pope his scheme to form an order of monks vowed to abject poverty. These would retrieve the reputation Rome had lost through the profligacy and extravagance of her present clergy and monastic orders, which were bursting with wealth and luxury. These men were not to be tied to monasteries; they would perambulate Christendom and become a mighty buttress of strength to the papal edifice. At first the Pope dismissed the man and his message. But as he thought about it, the value of the idea grew upon him. St. Francis was found and commissioned to put his plan into execution. Followers multiplied at an amazing rate. Before the death of their founder, there were already twenty-five hundred Franciscan convents — the single enthusiast had multiplied into an army. The poverty of the Franciscans appealed to the masses on whose charity they lived as beggars, and they became a popular force in Christendom, for they performed many works of charity, especially at the beginning of their history. They were subservient directly to the Pope and became serious rivals everywhere to the local clergy.

St. Dominic approached the Pope also with a similar plan. His followers, too, were to be devoted to poverty and live on alms, thus costing the church nothing. Their object was to counteract heresy. They penetrated the homes of high and low, rich and poor, to seek out heretics and uphold the teachings of Rome.

The friars or mendicant orders, whose institution has just been referred to, arose at a time when that great movement of the Spirit of God already described in our account of the Waldenses was spreading all over Europe. These simple believers commended themselves to men, especially at the beginning, by their simple, godly lives, their charity and their unworldliness. Peter Waldo had sacrificed all his wealth and devoted himself to preaching and teaching, and many followed his good example. The advent of the friars was Satan’s imitation of this divine movement, and the Dominican order was expressly designed to counteract it. The enthusiasm of St. Francis and the strange dream of the Pope were part of a spiritual movement — not of God, but of Satan. Long since had the Apostle warned of this, when he wrote:

“Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places” (Eph. 6:11-12).

The whole Romish system is a masterpiece of Satanic craft. There we see in operation the three principal means that the devil uses: (1) imitation, namely, man-made ceremonies, dogmas and creeds taking the place of “the faith once delivered to the saints” (Jude 3 JND), (2) corruption — the pure teaching of Christianity garbled, adulterated or wholly corrupted and overlaid by human inventions so that the truth is lost, buried in the rubbish of superstition, men themselves corrupted by lust and wickedness, and (3) violence — terror, persecution, torture and the fire and sword for those who cling to the truth.

Few of our readers are ignorant of the Inquisition, that diabolical system carried on in the name of Christ, which had for its object to search out and destroy His most devoted followers. The Inquisition was established by Innocent III and was placed in the hands of the Dominicans.

Waddington says, “The success of the Dominicans encouraged the profession of beggary, and the face of Christendom was suddenly darkened by a swarm of holy mendicants in such manner that about the year 1272 Gregory X endeavored to arrest the growing evil. To this end, he suppressed a great multitude of those authorized vagrants and distributed the remainder, still very numerous, into four societies — the Dominicans, the Franciscans, the Carmelites and the Hermits of St. Augustine.”

The Pope had conferred on them the right of shriving men, and they gave absolution on such easy terms that evildoers of every description flocked to them for pardon. Their access to the homes and private lives of the masses gave them a wonderful opportunity for acquiring wealth. This was contrary to their vow of utter poverty, but some acute mind discovered that if they could not own wealth, they could be stewards, and stewards of immense wealth they soon became. A papal decree in 1279 sanctioned this subtle distinction. Before long their convents rivaled the palaces of nobles and kings.

The wealth of Europe at this time was drained away into the papal treasuries. Direct impositions, such as Peter’s pence, and charges and fees of all kinds were demanded by the popes to support their pomp and glory and their wild extravagance, not to mention their wars. The world groaned under these burdens, and men complained bitterly. By the sale of Church offices to the highest bidder, more revenue was acquired. The jubilee pilgrimages to Rome were made more frequent, and hordes of pilgrims flocked to Rome to be fleeced of their wealth — to enrich the papal city and the papal See. Thereby they secured “forgiveness” of their sins from the great sinner who wore the triple crown. For those who did not wish to travel — and it had its dangers and inconveniencies — the papal indulgence could be obtained on payment of the cost of the pilgrimage.

In England, the constant exactions caused trouble between Edward III and the Pope, and this brought Wycliffe into public notice, but this is a large and important subject which deserves a separate chapter.

Chapter 17

In this dark day, it pleased God to raise up a courageous witness against the prevailing corruptions. In 1324, in the manor house of the parish of Wicliff-on-Tees, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, John Wycliffe was born. At sixteen years of age, he went to Oxford. A revival of learning was then in progress, and there were thirty thousand students at Oxford when Wycliffe entered it. Among the learned teachers there at this time was a certain Bradwardine, who, though the leading mathematician and astronomer of his day, was also a devout student of the Word of God. Going directly to the Scriptures, he learned the truth for himself and passed on what he had learned to his students. The fame of his lectures spread far and wide, and his evangelical views were diffused by his scholars. From him, doubtless, Wycliffe received his earliest impressions of truths which were to operate powerfully in his soul and then affect so many others.

In those days, the study of the Bible was not held in high repute. Most studied the theologians, whose teachings were leavened with “philosophy and vain deceit” (Col. 2:8). Thus, instead of building on the impregnable rock of Holy Scripture, scholars built on the quicksands of human teaching and became blind followers of blind leaders.

While Wycliffe was a young man of twenty-five, the awful specter of the Black Death suddenly appeared. Like the rider on the pale horse in Revelation, it traversed the earth, taking an appalling toll of human life. In common with many of his fellow men and women, Wycliffe found himself standing on the brink of the pit, for every day hundreds were passing into eternity, and none knew whether he might not be the next. He felt, he says, how awful it would be to go down into the eternal night. Doubtless the Word of God henceforth meant more to him than ever before, but little is recorded of his inward exercises at this time. However, he bore the features of a truly Christian man. His life has been described as holy, humility and modesty appear to have marked him, and no enemy has ever questioned his moral character. About 1360 he became Master of Balliol. Later he took his degree in theology and gave public lectures on the books of Scripture.

In 1365 the Pope suddenly demanded the annual tribute of one thousand marks, the payment of which had been intermitted by England for some thirty-five years. The demand included all arrears. A long struggle against these papal extortions had been going on since the days of the Magna Carta. Edward III laid the matter before Parliament in 1366, and Parliament gave its verdict in an unequivocal “No!”

The Pope’s claims were upheld by a monk whose name history does not record. The Pope, said he, as the vicar of Christ, was the lord paramount of all kings, and all sovereigns owe him obedience and tribute. Then, singling out Wycliffe by name, he challenged him to refute it. This Wycliffe did, basing his answer on the natural rights of men, the laws of the realm of England, and the precepts of Scripture. After this Wycliffe took his degree as Doctor of Divinity, a rather uncommon distinction in those days, and having now the chair of theology, his teachings naturally became more influential than ever. It was as a doctor of the University rather than as a clergyman that Wycliffe began to spread the truth as he understood it. Wycliffe’s conscience compelled him to protest against the universal corruption he found all around, and in 1360, when he was still but thirty-six years old, he began, in his public lectures at Oxford, to expose the wickedness of the clergy. As time went on, he saw more and more clearly how far the Church of Rome had departed from the truth of Christianity. The friars had by this time become a veritable plague. The rise of these orders has already been referred to. They attacked the laws and privileges of the University, and everywhere sought to secure control for themselves. Young men were inveigled into their orders, and this became such a scandal that parents feared to send their sons to the University, with the result that attendance fell to a very low ebb. By means of their wealth, they cornered the learned books and deposited them in their own convents.

Against the friars Wycliffe directed his pen and incidentally brought out many a sorely needed truth. “There is no greater error,” wrote Wycliffe, “than for a man to believe that he is absolved from his sins if he give money.” In this Wycliffe anticipated Luther’s attack on indulgences many years later. “Many think,” said he, “if they give a penny to the pardoner they shall be forgiven the breaking of all the commandments of God, and therefore they take no heed how they keep them. But I say this for certain, though thou have priests and friars to sing for thee, though thou each day hear many masses and found churches and colleges, though thou go on pilgrimages all thy life, and though thou give all thy goods to pardoners, this will not bring thy soul to heaven.”

“May God of His endless mercy destroy the pride, covetousness, hypocrisy and heresy of their feigned pardoning and make men busy to keep His commandments and to set fully their trust in Jesus Christ.”

In June 1372, Wycliffe was appointed to the service of the Crown. In 1374 he was chosen, with several others, to meet the papal delegates at Bruges with respect to long-standing complaints of the appointment by the Pope of foreign ecclesiastics to lucrative benefices in England. There he spent two years and doubtless learned firsthand something of the character of the papal hierarchy. Following this, he was granted the living of Lutterworth, which he held till his death. In his public lectures he now spoke of the Pope as Antichrist, “the proud, worldly priest of Rome, and the most cursed of clippers and purse-kervers.” With understandable indignation he says, “They [that is, the Pope’s agents] draw out of our land poor men’s livelihoods and many thousand marks by year of the King’s money for sacraments and spiritual things that is the cursed heresy of simony and maketh all Christendom assent to and maintain his heresy.”

The indignation aroused against Wycliffe at the papal court can well be imagined. Three bulls, one to the clergy, one to the University and one to the King, were issued in 1377, demanding that Wycliffe be dealt with without delay. The clergy, however, had already instituted proceedings. Wycliffe was summoned to appear before the Bishop of London. While he was standing before his judges, the Duke of Lancaster and Lord Percy appeared. An altercation between them and the judges was followed by a riotous outbreak on the part of the crowd of Londoners who were waiting without. The session broke up and Wycliffe went home.

This same year Edward III died, and the first Parliament called by his successor was very hostile to the Pope and turned to Wycliffe for moral support in its case against the papal extortions. They asked Wycliffe’s opinion as to the papal rights. In reply he asked, “Who gave the Pope this temporal supremacy? I cannot find it in the Bible. Peter possessed no temporal lordship, and neither Peter nor any of the apostles ever imposed a tax on Christians. They were supported by the free-will offerings of those they served.”

A year had passed since the abortive trial, and Wycliffe was now summoned to appear before a court of bishops at Lambeth Palace. Wycliffe’s prestige and popularity had grown meantime, and though no dukes or lords were now at his side, he was not afraid. To the formidable list of charges he replied with a still bolder attack. Among other things, he said the Pope had no political dominion; he might fall into sin like other men and ought to be reproved; absolution by the priest benefited no one unless accompanied by the pardon of God, nor would excommunication hurt anyone unless he has exposed himself to the anger of the great Judge. Once again God delivered His servant. A friendly throng of Londoners crowded into the court, but ere they could be removed, a gentleman entered with a message from the Queen Mother commanding them to suspend the trial. Once again Wycliffe was delivered.

Wycliffe had learned direct from the Word of God, and he saw that the entire ecclesiastical system was unscriptural. He wished to lay the axe to the root of the tree. He envisaged nothing less than that the Church should surrender all her wealth, return to the simplicity of her early days, and depend on the free-will offerings of the people as did the apostles and first preachers of the gospel. In those days this appeared to be very extreme, but it shows that Wycliffe was concerned with what was right and not with what was merely expedient. He also drew attention to the fact that there were only two orders in the Church in New Testament days, namely elders and deacons, and in consequence the whole super-incumbent hierarchy of Christendom was unscriptural.

During this time the great schism was in progress and two popes were struggling for the mastery. In their attacks on one another, Wycliffe was, for the time being, left alone. The hand of Providence can be seen in all this. Wycliffe now commenced the great work always associated with his memory — the translation of the Bible. The Bible had been his own guide and charter, and he saw the immense benefit that would accrue to his countrymen if they had the Holy Scriptures in their own tongue. It appears that he did not undertake the actual work of translation himself. Nicholas of Hereford and several others did the work. The first attempt was a rather literal translation from the Latin, and the English, therefore, was not good. Wycliffe, however, had translated large portions of the New Testament for the use of his preachers, which are models of contemporary English prose. Towards the end of his life, he encouraged one of his devoted followers, John Purvey, to revise the translation, translating sentence for sentence and not word for word. The work was not completed till after Wycliffe’s death.

“The translation of the Bible and the publication of English tracts formed part of a larger purpose. Before either had been commenced, Wycliffe had devised another means for spreading his teaching. ... Wycliffe sent out as early probably as the years 1377 ... his order of ‘Poor Priests’ or ‘itinerant preachers’ who in the highways and byways and by the village greens and graveyards, sometimes even in churches, should denounce abuses, proclaim the true doctrine of the Eucharist and teach the right thinking from which, as he deemed, right living would follow. It was for these ‘Poor Priests’ that Wycliffe prepared his tracts and skeletons of sermons and undertook his paraphrase of the Bible.”

Some have tried to depreciate the value of this work, pointing out that many could not read, but those who could not read could be read to. Education was, however, increasing and a large enough proportion of the population could read to make the translation a really potent means for disseminating the truth. When the work was done, there was an immediate and widespread demand, and many labored to supply the copies needed. The complaint of Henry de Knighton, Canon of Leicester, shows that the work was effective and its results feared by the Church. “This Master Wycliffe,” he said, “translated it out of Latin into English, and thus laid it more open to the laity and to women who could read than it had formerly been to the most learned of the clergy, even to those of them who had the best understanding. And in this way the gospel pearl is cast abroad and trodden under foot of swine, and that which was before precious to both clergy and laity is rendered, as it were, common jest to both.”

Having begun by denouncing the iniquity of the papal encroachments and its exactions, Wycliffe came to be more and more occupied with the truth itself, and in these last years of his life, the powerful friends who had supported him for political reasons were no longer at his side. In the spring of 1381 he made a bold attack on the doctrine of transubstantiation. He posted up at Oxford twelve propositions, refuting this dogma. The first of these read: “The consecrated Host which we see upon the Altar is neither Christ, nor any part of Him, but an efficacious sign of Him.” This step caused great commotion, and the cry of heresy was raised. His opinions were officially condemned and silence enjoined on him on this matter. He appealed to the King and Parliament. Meanwhile he retired to Lutterworth. Fresh dangers now threatened him, for at this time Wat Tyler’s rebellion broke out, and his enemies linked it with his teachings. Wycliffe, however, continued boldly to publish his views in various pamphlets. Once more he was called upon to appear before an ecclesiastical court. The newly-installed primate convoked a council at the Monastery of Blackfriars in London, on May 17, 1382. Eight prelates, fourteen doctors of canon and civil law, six bachelors of divinity, four monks and fifteen mendicant friars were assembled to deliberate on the heresies of Wycliffe. Scarcely had they sat down than the whole of London was shaken by an earthquake. Some demanded an adjournment, but the Archbishop succeeded in allaying their fears and even persuading them that the earthquake was a good omen.

When Parliament met on November 19 that year, Wycliffe presented a daring appeal. It was arranged under four heads and demanded:

That monasticism should be abolished — that men should be released from their unnatural and immoral confinement and should leave the gloomy walls of the convent to lead normal lives.

That the priesthood should be subjected to the State.

That tithes and offerings should be limited to what was sufficient to keep the clergy but not to minister to their pride. He complained that worldly priests were living lives of ostentation and luxury, while the wives and children of their neighbors were dying of hunger.

That the true doctrine of the Eucharist as taught by Christ and His apostles should be taught throughout England.

The Commons were sympathetic and actually repealed the persecuting edict which had gone forth against him. The primate now turned to Convocation for support. Once again, Wycliffe was on trial, this time at Oxford. The issue was the dogma of transubstantiation. Did he affirm or deny it? Some have said that he modified his language before this court. It appears he defended himself in the subtle language of the Schools, but his closing words were, “With whom think you ye are contending? With an old man on the brink of the grave? No! With truth — truth which is stronger than you and will overcome you.” With these words he turned and left the court and no one forbade him.

He was summoned to Rome, there to face the pontiff himself. But his health would not allow it. Instead, he wrote in terms which, if the Pope and his cardinals had had any conscience, must have smitten them sore, for he drew the portrait of Him whom they professed to serve and then challenged them as to how far they conformed to it. “Is this your likeness? Is this the poverty in which you live? Is this the humility which you cultivate?”

In spite of these conflicts, he went steadily on with his work, and beside his great work of instigating the translation of the Bible and his many tracts, he had organized a body of preachers who preached in the open air in cities, towns and villages, so that the truths for which he had so long fought and the Scriptures he had made available in the English tongue were disseminated far and wide. It was admitted by an enemy that “you could not meet two men on the highway but one of them was a Wycliffite.”

But his life’s labors were coming to a close. On the last Sunday in 1384, while administering the Communion in the parish church at Lutterworth, a stroke laid him low, and he died on December 31 in that year. He was, if the date of his birth has been accurately recorded, but sixty years of age.

The full results of his labors are known only in heaven, but a large body of followers remained behind to continue the testimony in a dark and cloudy day in England’s history. Of these we must now speak.

Chapter 18

As already observed, the Lollards had become very numerous in England, especially in those parts where Wycliffe’s preachers had labored. The leaders of the Church determined to do their utmost to extirpate them. Richard II having been deposed in favor of Henry IV, the latter, anxious to favor the clerical party, issued a writ for the burning of heretics. Preaching was forbidden without a license from the bishop. This was aimed at the Wycliffe preachers, who had continued their good work. A law was now passed by the Lords confirming the burning of obstinate heretics. The hold that the teachings of Wycliffe had obtained in the country, however, is indicated by a petition from the House of Commons praying that the act against the Lollards might be repealed. The petition was rejected.

The first martyr to die by fire in England was William Sawtree, a London clergyman. He was burned to death in the year 1400 for the truth of the gospel. He was followed by a working man named John Badby, who, having witnessed a good confession, also died in triumph, supported by divine grace.

In 1413, Henry IV died and was succeeded by his son Henry V. In the first year of his reign, a national synod was convened with a view to the repression of heresy. A particular object of the clergy’s malice was Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, for he used his wealth and influence to protect the Lollards and promote the truth for which they stood. He circulated Wycliffe’s works and maintained at his own expense many itinerant preachers. Many of Wycliffe’s books were publicly burned, including one which belonged to Lord Cobham. The King was apprised of this. Hitherto Lord Cobham had been high in his favor. In a personal interview with Henry, Lord Cobham boldly maintained the truth. His faithfulness cost him the King’s patronage. Cobham was arrested and placed in the Tower. Arraigned before the Archbishop on the charge of heresy, he valiantly defended the truth. His judges demanded his adherence to the doctrine of transubstantiation, confession to the priest, the supremacy of the Pope, and the worship of relics, images, apostles, martyrs and confessors approved by the Church of Rome. On his second appearance before the tribunal, he was asked, among many other questions, if he was ready to worship the cross upon which Christ died.

“Where is it?” he said.

“But suppose it were here at this moment?”

“Tell me,” said Lord Cobham, “what sort of worship I owe it.”

“Such as St. Paul speaks of when he says, ‘God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ’ (Gal. 6:14)” was the answer.

“Right,” replied Cobham, “that is the true cross — far better than your cross of wood.”

“Sir,” said the Bishop of London, “you know very well that Christ died upon a material cross.”

“True,” replied Cobham, “and I know also that our salvation did not come by that material cross, but by Him who died thereupon. Further, I well know that St. Paul rejoiced in no other cross but in Christ’s passion and death only and in his own sufferings and persecutions for the same truth which Christ had died for before.”

His judges were confounded by his answers. The Lord had fulfilled His promise: “I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all your adversaries shall not be able to gainsay nor resist” (Luke 21:15).

The long trial came to a close. With mock kindness, the Archbishop urged him to submit.

“My faith is fixed. Do with me what you please,” replied Cobham.

He was condemned as an “incorrigible, pernicious and detestable heretic” and handed over to the secular power for the hateful sentence to be carried out. After a further, bold affirmation of faith and a warning to the people not to follow these leaders, he fell upon his knees and, lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, he cried, “Lord, God eternal! I beseech Thee of Thy great mercy to forgive my persecutors, if it be Thy blessed will.” His execution was delayed some weeks, perhaps for reasons of policy, and in the meantime he escaped from the Tower and spent four years in hiding.

The Lollards were accustomed to meet in secret for prayer and worship. One place of frequent resort was a thicket in St. Giles Fields, near London. On the night of January 6, 1414, about eighty were assembled for their devotions. The King, who was then near London, was informed that Cobham, at the head of twenty thousand men, was at St. Giles Fields for the purpose of seizing his majesty, putting their persecutors to the sword, and making himself regent of the realm. The King immediately mustered the few soldiers available, marched to the spot, and attacked the helpless worshippers, of whom twenty were killed and the rest captured. Among them were a preacher named Beverley, Sir Roger Acton, and another who were put to death. The Lollard army of twenty thousand was a myth. No more were found. Since it was in the interests of the papal party to represent this affair as a plot to overthrow the regime, this fable has passed into the records of history. Foxe, who investigated the whole matter, has amply cleared these sufferers from the imputation of rebellion. But the aspersion branded them as enemies of the State as well as the Church, and they continued for many years to be the objects of bitter persecution.

Lord Cobham was discovered in Wales after four years of hiding and brought before the House of Lords. He made no answer to the charges brought against him, save to say in the words of Scripture, “With me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man’s judgment” (1 Cor. 4:3). He was executed with shocking barbarity. Hung by a chain from the gallows, he was slowly burned to death.

During the remainder of the reign of Henry V and his successor and right through the Wars of the Roses, confessors of the true faith had no respite, while in the reigns of Henry VII and Henry VIII the persecutions increased in bitterness. Neither age nor sex was spared. To read the Scriptures or deny popish superstitions were unpardonable crimes. Many true followers of Christ went to the stake and reached heaven through the fire.

Chapter 19

Like seed borne upon the winds, the truths to which Wycliffe had drawn attention spread far and wide. It fell on congenial soil in Bohemia. About that time Conrad of Waldhausen had assailed, in that country, the depravity of the mendicants and other abuses. He died in 1369. About the same time Militz and Mathias of Janow had both opposed the prevailing corruptions. The former died in 1374 and the latter in 1394. They all died in peace, because, although they attacked the current evils, which were patent to all, they did not attack the doctrines of the Church.

Anne, the daughter of the King of Bohemia, had married Richard II of England. She was a godly woman and had the gospels both in the Bohemian and the German tongues. This marriage formed a link between the two countries, and many young Bohemians came to Oxford to study, while Englishmen were likewise to be found studying at Prague. When the queen died, her attendants took Wycliffe’s writings with them to their native land.

John Huss, a Bohemian of humble origin but no small ability, studied at Prague and became late rector of the University, an office he held only for a short time. In 1402 he was ordained and became preacher in a chapel called Bethlehem, built especially for the purpose of preaching in the Bohemian tongue, a practice previously unknown. He was a thoroughly honest, upright man who could not endure the religious corruption of his day without witnessing against it. He severely rebuked the clergy in his sermons, thereby incurring their enmity. He rigorously attacked the popular superstitions, the unwholesome reverence for relics, and the craving after miracles, in order to satisfy which many of the clergy had descended to what were merely tricks to deceive the masses. His attacks on the vices of the clergy being continued, the Archbishop complained to the King, but without result.

Huss now met Jerome. Jerome was a layman who had traveled in various lands, including England, where he heard of Wycliffe’s doctrines and was sufficiently interested to copy two of his books. The two men had much in common.

The Church, seeing the hold which Wycliffe’s teachings were obtaining in Bohemia, condemned them, and in 1405 the Archbishop of Prague was ordered by the Pope to suppress these heresies. Huss incurred further criticism at this time because he was not prepared unreservedly to condemn Wycliffe’s teachings. In 1409 it was forbidden to propagate in the University those of Wycliffe’s teachings which were regarded as heretical.

Huss was now ordered to cease preaching in Bethlehem chapel. A great bonfire was made of Wycliffe’s works, an action which called forth a protest from Huss. He and his associates were excommunicated. Popular feeling became inflamed by the controversy, and riots occurred in the city. When John XXIII became pope, an influential appeal was made to get the ban on Huss removed. Huss also wrote to the Pope himself and denied he was a heretic. As a matter of fact, he accepted the principal dogmas of the Church, such as transubstantiation, and was not, therefore, technically a heretic.

About this time the Pope proclaimed an iniquitous crusade against the King of Naples, offering full indulgences to those who took part in the war. Huss and Jerome were stung into protest against such iniquity — that absolution from sin should be offered as a reward for shedding blood. The advocates of the Papacy were more furious than ever. This was the year 1412. Public excitement was roused to a high pitch. The King intervened and threatened capital punishment to any who insulted the Pope. Huss, however, continued his protests. One day a preacher of the crusades, offering his indulgences, was challenged by three young men of the working class, who said that Huss had taught them the vanity of such indulgences. They were apprehended, condemned and hastily executed, an act which greatly inflamed the passions of the multitude, who regarded the young men as martyrs. Meanwhile the controversy continued unabated; Huss denied that any human judge could forgive sins and affirmed that there was no need to fear unjust excommunication.

In 1413 all Wycliffe’s books were condemned by Rome to be burned indiscriminately, Huss was anathematized, and Prague (except for the area where the King resided) was put under an interdict and any who supported Huss were warned they would share his fate.

The glaring evils rampant in the Church had become a disgrace to Christendom, while added to this there was now the pitiable spectacle of two rival popes anathematizing each other and even raising armies to fight one another. According to their own estimates of each other, there were not three popes, but three Antichrists reigning in Christendom. At the Council of Pisa in 1409, the two rival popes were deposed and Alexander V was recognized. The result was there were then three popes, each doing his utmost to maintain his position. Alexander V died the next year and was succeeded by John XXIII, a notoriously wicked man. He was, however, persuaded by the Emperor Sigismund to call another Council, which met at Constance and which sat for four years from 1414 to 1418. This Council deposed John and one of the other popes, while the third resigned, and Martin V was elected pope. The great object of the Council, the reform of the Church, was not achieved; the leopard cannot change its spots. Those who formed the Council were themselves (with perhaps some exceptions) colored by the prevailing vices. Yet the hollow mockery of a form of godliness was maintained. The daily proceedings began with a devoutly worded prayer to the Holy Spirit, the Emperor Sigismund read the gospel, and the Pope celebrated mass.

Many of those who addressed the Council condemned the prevailing abuses in scathing terms. If testimony were needed as to the corruption of the professing Church of that day, it would be found in ample measure in the proceedings of the Council of Constance. But if the Council of Constance did no lasting good, it branded itself with eternal infamy by the condemnation and death of two holy men — Huss and Jerome.

Huss went to Constance to refute the charges against him. Although his safety and liberty had been assured by the solemn promise of the Emperor Sigismund, he was, nevertheless, soon after his arrival at Constance cast into a dungeon and loaded with fetters. The vile conditions under which he was immured nearly terminated his life, but his captors did their best to restore him that their prey might not thus escape their clutches. Strangely enough, Pope John himself, who had presided at the opening meeting of the Council and had subsequently escaped when he saw matters going against him, was brought back as a prisoner to the same castle.

Huss was now put on trial, a trial which was a mere travesty of justice. Many false accusations were laid to his charge. These he denied. In other cases he appealed to the Scriptures. A form of recantation was prepared which he refused to sign.

One of the doctors who visited Huss said to him, “If the Council should tell you that you have but one eye, though you have really two, you would be obliged to agree with the Council.”

“While God keeps me in my senses,” replied Huss, “I would not say such a thing against my conscience on the entreaty or command of the whole world.”

On the night before his death, Huss wrote that the Council had exhorted him to renounce every one of the articles which had been extracted from his books. He absolutely refused unless they could prove from the Scriptures that his doctrines were erroneous.

As a matter of fact, Huss himself was not free from many of the teachings of Rome, such as transubstantiation, but he was a preacher of righteousness, and the truths he saw and held he preached. Satan knew that he was a dangerous enemy and must be silenced. Sentence was pronounced against him, and his books were condemned. He was formally degraded by first clothing him with the garments of his priestly office and then stripping them from him, uttering a curse at each stage. A paper crown with devils painted on it was placed upon his head. “Now we commit your soul to the devil,” said one of the bishops. Huss said, “O Lord Jesus Christ, unto Thee I commend my spirit which Thou hast redeemed.” As he approached the stake, he prayed fervently and then said, “Lord Jesus, I humbly suffer this cruel death for Thy sake, and I pray Thee to forgive all my enemies.” He was fastened to the stake and the fire was kindled, the faithful martyr continuing to call on God while his breath remained.

Jerome, friend and associate of Huss, viewed the imprisonment and trial of his friend with deep concern. He went to Constance, but finding himself unable to help Huss, he left again. He too was summoned to appear before the Council, and shortly afterwards he was arrested and led in chains to Constance. His first appearance before the Council was a signal for general uproar; his examination was punctuated by violent outbursts from the assembly. Jerome was led back to prison, where he was bound to a post and his hands were chained to his neck, in which position he was kept for ten days and supplied only with bread and water. This cruel treatment was somewhat mitigated later, but he remained in prison till his execution.

Tremendous indignation was aroused in Bohemia by the martyrdom of Huss, and the Council thought it prudent to avoid, if possible, a second martyrdom. Jerome was urged to recant; weakened by the awful treatment he had borne in prison and consequent illness, he gave way, but it did not result in his release. On the contrary, a second trial was proposed. God now gave his faithful witness an opportunity for a fuller testimony. Standing before his judges, he pointed out that he had been kept for nearly a year in prison under painful and rigorous conditions, while his accusers were given every opportunity of building up a case against him. The accusations were so numerous that the court adjourned for three days. On May 26, 1416, he was given a further hearing. After having answered the various charges, he began to speak in his own defense. He drew attention to many who before him had been borne down by false witnesses and unjustly condemned. He disowned his recantation as the greatest crime he had ever committed. He boldly ranged himself on the side of Huss and Wycliffe, save that he held to the Roman dogma of transubstantiation. On May 30 he was brought before the Council for the last time. The Bishop of Lodi preached a sermon on Mark 16:14: He “upbraided them with their unbelief and hardness of heart.”

Jerome replied in a powerful and pathetic speech. Poggius, onetime Secretary of Pope John XXIII, who was present at the trial, was deeply affected by Jerome’s address. In a letter to a friend written on the day of the trial, he said, “I never knew the art of speaking carried so near the model of ancient eloquence. It was amazing to hear with what force of expression, fluency of language and excellent reasoning he answered his adversaries, nor was I less struck with the gracefulness of his manner, the dignity of his action and the firmness and constancy of his whole behavior. It grieved me to think so great a man was laboring under so atrocious an accusation. Whether this accusation be just or not, God knows: I make no inquiry into the merits of the case; I submit to those who know more of it than I do,” and further on he writes: “It was impossible to hear this pathetic orator without emotion. Every ear was captivated and every heart touched. Throughout his whole oration he showed a most amazing strength of memory. He had been confined almost a year in a dungeon, the severity of which usage he complained of, but in the language of a great and good man. In this horrid place he was deprived of books and paper, yet notwithstanding this and the constant anxiety of his mind, he was no more at a loss for proper authorities and quotations than if he had spent the intermediate time at leisure in his study.” Such was the testimony of an eyewitness and a papist.

The rest of the awful story is soon told. Like Huss, he was treated with all the contempt and ignominy his enemies could devise. A mocking crown being placed on his head, he said, “The Lord Jesus Christ, my God, was crowned for my sake with a crown of thorns, and I will gladly wear this crown for His glory.” He then knelt down for a few minutes and, rising up, sang the creed. He was led to the stake, stripped of his clothes, and bound to it, and there in the midst of the flames he sang the words, “O Lord, into Thy hands I resign my spirit.” Then just as he was saying, “Thou hast redeemed us,” he was suffocated by the flame and smoke, and his spirit departed to be with Christ. This took place on May 30, 1416.

The new pope, Martin V, was chosen on November 11 in the following year, but it soon became apparent that no radical reforms were to be made. The rules for the administration of his chancery sanctioned the very corruptions the Council had denounced —such as annates, expectancies and reservations. The Council, which had asserted its superiority over the Pope and claimed the right to depose bad popes, was now dissolved by the new pope.

In May 1418, the Pope left Constance for Rome in a scene of pomp which had few parallels in history. Arrayed in splendid robes, he rode under a canopy, supported by four counts, while the Emperor held his horse’s bridle on one side and the duke of Brandenburg on the other. It is said the whole cavalcade amounted to forty thousand persons. The Papacy was again victorious and was to continue its career of evil unchecked for another hundred years.

Chapter 20

Within four years of their martyrdom, the teachings of Huss and Jerome had been embraced by the bulk of the Bohemian nation. Communion was celebrated with both the bread and the cup, and the services were held in the native tongue. There was, however, a party which desired a more radical reform, insisting on the Scriptures as the only standard of faith. These were called Taborites from a famous gathering on a hill near Prague called Tabor, where the Lord’s supper was celebrated according to the scriptural mode. The others were called Calixtines or Utraquists, because their main point was that the cup should not be withheld from the people. The Pope proclaimed a crusade against Bohemia, and the King having died, the Emperor Sigismund claimed the throne, intending to bring the country into submission to Rome. This resulted in the long and sanguinary conflict known as the Hussite wars. The Bohemian nation rose under the leadership of an extraordinary man named Ziska, who transformed his rude peasant followers into a formidable army. Beginning with no proper weapons, they acquired them in successive victories and defeated again and again the Emperor’s forces and put to flight immense forces of crusaders who were collected at the Pope’s behest. Ziska having died from the plague, another champion arose, Procopius. The two final crusades ended in the abject humiliation of the papal forces. On both occasions, the crusaders fled panic-stricken before the Bohemians without striking a blow, leaving an immense booty of weapons and treasure to their victorious opponents. The last of these amazing victories took place in August 1431. For twelve years the carnage and desolation had continued, and both sides were ready to welcome a peaceful issue. Where force had failed, wiles succeeded. Negotiations ensued. Rome offered certain concessions; the larger party was pacified by being allowed to celebrate the communion in both kinds. A quarrel even broke out between the Calixtines and the Taborites. They fought each other, Procopius dying with his defeated troops. The Calixtines were concerned with a matter of form; the Taborites were devoted to the Scriptures. A Romish historian, Aeneas Sylvius, tells us that every woman among them was well acquainted with the Old and New Testaments. Tracts on religious subjects were produced even by men among them of the artisan class.

Even the little religious liberty the Calixtines had secured was finally taken from them. A foreign army again entered the country as the executant of the papal wrath, and the history of Bohemia in the last forty years of the fifteenth century was a time of terrible distress and confusion.

The use of the sword by Christians cannot be defended, and there is little doubt that many who followed Ziska were either very ignorant of true Christianity or were actuated by party or patriotic motives. But God raised up a truly Christian testimony, and when the war subsided there came into evidence a band of simple, devoted believers who strove to follow the faith of the gospel. These were the fruit of the testimony of a remarkable man known as Peter of Chelcic. Little is known of him except from his writings. He lived at the time of the Hussite wars. For a time he was a soldier, but feeling the wickedness of such a life, he thought of entering a monastery. Finding the monasteries full of immorality, he retired to his estate at Chelcic. He had acquired a good knowledge of the Scriptures and was familiar with the teachings of Wycliffe and Huss. His knowledge of the truth showed him that the whole system of politics and religion was wrong. No sect was right — none was true to the Spirit of Christ. As for war, he said, “It is a breach of the laws of God; all soldiers are violent men, murderers, a godless mob.” He regarded the Hussite wars as a disgrace to both sides. For him the teaching of Christ and His apostles was sufficient. Even the State he regarded as a worldly thing. “The first city,” he said, “was built by Cain,” and he advised Christians to live in the country. He regarded the union of Church and State as a great evil. Like the Waldenses, from whom he may have acquired some of his thoughts, he traced this evil back to the establishment of the Church by Constantine. He condemned the clergy very severely, saying that they baptized sinners, young and old, without repentance, sold the communion to rogues, abused confession by pardoning men who never meant to amend their evil ways, allowed the most worthless men to become priests, and degraded marriage by extolling celibacy as more holy. All this, he taught, was the outcome of the union of Church and State — the greatest evil under heaven. His remedy was for all Christians to separate from the evil system of Rome and return to the teaching of Christ and the apostles. Those who followed his teaching were called the Brethren of Chelcic. The movement spread; companies multiplied. From all parts of Bohemia and from all ranks of society their numbers were added to. About the year 1457 these people settled in an almost deserted village in the northeast of Bohemia named Kunwald. Rich and poor, one in heart and mind, they left the Church of Rome. They built houses, cultivated the land and appointed a pastor to supervise their little flock. They had elders, overseers and lay teachers, but they relied on a Calixtine priest to administer the sacrament, so their separation was not complete. In 1461 the King ordered all his people to join either the Roman or the Calixtine (Utraquist) Church. Bitter persecution followed. Their priest was cast into a dungeon, four of their leading men were burned alive, their homes were broken up, and they had to flee to the mountains. Because they lived in caves, they were called Pitmen. In spite of all, they increased. They never retaliated. “When smitten on one cheek, they turned the other, and from ill report they went to good report till the King for very shame let them be.”

They thought it was necessary to have priests to dispense the sacraments, although for a time they were inclined to do without them, but tradition dies hard, and they searched the world for holy priests. They made inquiries as to the Nestorian Church but learned it was no better than Rome, nor was the Russian Church. They wondered if they were alone among the witnesses of Jesus on the earth and sent out messengers to discover others who shared their faith. Here and there they found isolated confessors of the faith who, like themselves, were suffering persecution. They learned that in the Alpine valleys there was a body of Christians clinging to the Word of God and refusing the corruptions of Rome. Finally, they chose, by lot, three men, and supposing that they must be ordained by a bishop, they had them ordained by a Waldensian bishop, imagining that thereby they had established the true apostolic succession. They endeavored to follow closely what they called “the law of Christ” — the Lord’s teaching in the gospels. The epistles they regarded as of secondary importance. From this time they became popular and numerous, and their strict rules, which excluded the learned and the great, were gradually relaxed. Under a leader of broader views named Luke, their ritual became more elaborate. They published the first church hymnal in history and many books. Their numbers had increased to 100,000. In 1480 they were joined by a body of Waldenses fleeing from persecution in Austria.

Once again they came under the papal ban. In 1500 the Pope issued a bull against them, their meetings were forbidden and their books were ordered to be burned. They were commanded to return either to the Roman or the Utraquist Church. Their priests and teachers were imprisoned. Once more they fled to the woods and forests, and anyone found harboring them was punished. During the civil war between the Romish and the Utraquist Churches in 1516, they seem to have been forgotten.

Once again we observe a fact that has come before us many times in this history, that the written Word of God is the basis of a true and living faith. In it we have “the faith once delivered to the saints” (Jude 3 JND), which cannot be added to without corrupting it nor taken from without weakening or destroying it.

Chapter 21

During the fifteenth century, many all over Europe suffered for Christ’s sake. In 1432 a Carmelite friar named Rhedon went to Rome and was horrified to discover that the city of St. Peter was a hotbed of vice and corruption. His spirit was stirred within him, and he preached against the prevailing enormities. Rome’s answer was to degrade him from the priesthood and commit him to the flames.

Better known is Savanarola, an Italian monk, who preached boldly in Florence. The Pope’s legate arriving in the city, he and two companions were charged with heretical teaching, among which the doctrine of free justification through faith in Christ was specifically mentioned. All three were burned to death in 1499.

Among the faithful witnesses for the truth during this century, John Wesselus of Groningen deserves special mention. He stands out as a man of solid piety, well versed in the truth of Scripture and celebrated for his talents and learning. He lived from 1419 to 1489. In so many respects did his teaching anticipate the truths that came to light at the Reformation that he has been called the “Forerunner of Luther.” Luther himself was astonished to find in his writings the very truths he himself was led to proclaim. “It is plain,” he said, “he was taught of God, as Isaiah prophesied (Isa. 54:13) Christians should be. As in my own case, so with him, it cannot be supposed that he received his doctrines from men. If I had read his works before, my enemies might have supposed that I had learned everything from Wesselus, such a perfect coincidence there is in our opinions.” In spite of this, Wesselus seems entirely to have escaped persecution. He does not seem — and here may lie the reason — to have discerned the iniquity of the Papacy. Soon after the inauguration of Sixtus IV, the pontiff told Wesselus he would grant him any request he should make. Wesselus replied:

“Holy Father and kind patron, I shall not press hard upon your holiness. You well know I never aimed at great things. But as you now sustain the character of supreme pontiff and shepherd on earth, my request is that you would so discharge the duties of your elevated station that your praise may correspond with your dignity and that when the Great Shepherd shall appear, whose first minister you are, He may say, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant; ... enter thou into the joy of thy Lord’ (Matt. 25:23).”

The Pope’s answer was, “That must be my care, but do you ask something for yourself.”

Wesselus then asked for a Greek and a Hebrew Bible from the Vatican library.

“Foolish man,” said Sixtus, “why don’t you ask for a bishopric or something of that sort?”

“For the best of reasons,” replied Wesselus, “because I do not want such things.”

Honest John Wesselus could have had little inkling as to the true character of the man he was addressing, for the history depicts the career of Sixtus in dark colors.

It has been said that with the pontificate of Sixtus the Papacy entered a new phase, in which it appeared chiefly as a great secular power, to which the spiritual character was merely attached as an accident. But light from God was about to shine which would bring into evidence the works of darkness and expose the system and its head before the whole world. But more: That divine light was to shine brightly into the hearts of thousands and bring in a liberty unknown since the days of the apostles.

Before closing this brief review of Christendom in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, mention may be made of the fact that an attempt was made in the fifteenth century to unite the Greek and Roman Churches. It was a failure.

The Turks who had overrun the eastern portion of the old Roman Empire previously subjected by the Muhammadans captured Constantinople in 1453. Thus the last vestige of the empire of the Greek emperors disappeared. The Turks were also harrying the southern borders of Europe and causing a good deal of anxiety both to the Pope and the secular princes of Europe. The fifteenth century also saw the British arms overrunning France under Henry V, culminating in the tragic episode of Joan of Arc, who was burned as a witch by the English in 1431.

In the midst of all these tumults, Providence was preparing the way for the coming great revival of scriptural truth in the next century. Printing was invented about the middle of this century and this was to play its part in disseminating those liberating doctrines, based on Holy Writ, which characterized the Reformation. The truth was to set men free from the bondage of Rome, and the Holy Scriptures were by means of printing to become available to an extent hitherto undreamed of. The capture of Constantinople resulted in a mass of learned refugees fleeing to Europe with their books. The knowledge of the Greek language and literature was thereby disseminated in the West and contributed to a revival of learning.

Chapter 22

Before the close of the fifteenth century, Columbus had discovered the New World and opened up a new era in navigation and commerce. The beginning of the sixteenth witnessed progress and revival in many spheres of human activity. Four great powers then dominated Europe — France, Spain, England and Germany. The German Empire, consisting of the remains of the empire of Charlemagne, was a collection of more or less independent states acknowledging an emperor as overlord. When in 1519 the imperial crown became vacant, it passed to Charles V, an Austrian prince who also ruled over the Spanish dominions now swollen by the newly discovered territories of the West. He thus reigned over a wider dominion than any ruler since the days of Charlemagne. But powerful as he was, he had an ambition to extend his dominions still further and to make himself, if possible, universal ruler.

He had a rival in Francis I, King of France, with whom he was often at war. Indeed, throughout this century there were frequent wars in Europe. Italy suffered especially, and at one time Rome itself was sacked by German soldiers. In the south, the Turks, who were still a menace, invaded Hungary. To the intrigues of popes and princes, the alliances and counter-alliances, and the consequent wars were added the conflicts which arose out of the Reformation. Rome stirred up the sword against the new movement and invoked the aid of the rulers who were under her influence to wipe out the faith of the gospel. Where her writ ran unchallenged, fire and torture pursued the confessors of the truth; where it was opposed, the force of arms was employed against the defenders of the faith.

The real ruler and lord paramount of Europe was still the Pope. He wielded a power more absolute and more feared than any earthly ruler. He held in bondage the very souls of men. He had his legates in almost every country. The legate held his own court and exercised his power in the Pope’s name. To him the powerful landed bishops were subject; the convents, the monasteries and the abbeys were under his supervision. He had the power to impose taxes and special levies on both clergy and laity.

His authority was enforced by the power of the interdict, which, as we have already observed, had tremendous effect upon the entire populace of a country. It was a punishment that had rarely failed to bring a recalcitrant ruler, sooner or later, to his knees. Many of the States were bound to Rome by a concordat which compelled its rulers to obtain the Pope’s permission before enacting a law, opening a school or teaching any branch of knowledge. It bound the State to keep its doors open to any representatives the Pope might please to appoint to exercise his spiritual authority, which, in actuality, went far beyond spiritual matters. Then there was the confessional. By it the Pope penetrated into the secrets of human hearts and acquired the means of undermining any other power or authority which might come into competition with his own. We have already seen that the Pope had a variety of means by which he drained away into his own coffers the riches of the realms which owned his sway. At this time, the profligacy of Rome demanded such a flow of wealth that, to increase its revenues still more, it developed the sale of indulgences. Every sin was priced in the catalog of crimes and could be atoned for by paying the appropriate sum into the papal treasury. Even deliberate crimes could be paid for in advance. The famous Cathedral of St. Peter’s at Rome was built from the proceeds of these indulgences. It was this diabolical traffic that opened men’s eyes. A working man once naively inquired why, if a penny would free a soul from purgatory, the Pope, who was so rich, did not free thousands of souls?

The lives of the clergy and the monks had not improved. Two of the popes immediately preceding the Reformation were among the wickedest that had ever worn the triple crown. Councils had sought to reform the Church in vain. What man could not effect God would bring about in His own way — not a reformed Church —but an outshining of gospel light such as the world had not seen since the days of the apostles. Everything was then contributing to that end. Greek and Hebrew, the original tongues of the Bible, were being widely taught. This was no insignificant matter, for it threw light on many doubtful passages in the Latin Bible. Men could now go to the fountainhead of truth in the very languages in which the Scriptures were written. A very able scholar named Reuchlin had compiled a Hebrew lexicon of which Luther and others availed themselves in due course. The famous scholar Erasmus wrote against the ignorance and vice of the clergy and the follies of the age, but his work was negative. He never had the courage to come out boldly on the side of the truth, and he remained a Romanist till his death. His revised edition of the Greek New Testament was, however, a valuable work at a time when men were beginning to study the Scriptures in the original tongues, and it was an important contribution to the dissemination of the gospel.

Chapter 23

God often allows evil to reach a climax before He intervenes. So it was at the epoch of the Reformation. For centuries the vital truths of the Christian gospel had been buried under a mass of superstition. An enormous amount of “wood, hay, stubble” (1 Cor. 3:12) had been built into the public profession of Christianity by those who had thereby corrupted the temple of God and made it, as the Lord said of the ancient temple in Jerusalem, “a den of thieves” (Luke 19:46).

The great feature of the gospel in apostolic days was faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; the command was to repent and believe in Him. Repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ were the keynote of the proclamation that changed the face of the world in the first century and drove out the demon of idolatry.

But the doctrine of human merit had since been substituted for faith. Man had replaced God. Idols in the form of saints had replaced Christ. The simplicity of Christianity had been elaborated into pompous ceremonies rivaling the ritual of the pagans. The pious elders of apostolic days had been replaced by a wicked, worldly hierarchy at whose head, at times, were men whose iniquity was without parallel in the world’s history.

And where was human merit? If the fallen, corrupt nature of humanity needed any proof, Christendom in the dark hour that preceded the Reformation afforded it in the most abundant measure. For years men had been crying out for a reform. The common people called for it, princes called for it, and Rome herself owned the need for it. It was admittedly beyond the wisdom and power of man to effect it; God alone could effect the change.

But was it God’s intention to reform the corrupt system of Rome? No, indeed! He sent forth His light to dispel the awful night which shrouded the souls of men; He made a way out of Babylon for thousands of her prisoners, restoring once again to men the Word which alone can set the mind of man free from Satan’s power. God exercised His own sovereign power, and the way in which He accomplished His ends redounds to His praise and demonstrates the power of the divine Word. Once again He used the weak things of the world to bring to naught the strong things. Many had prayed for such a movement, but human power could not set it in motion. The account of this divine intervention is stimulating to faith and affords instruction in the ways of God. And, let us not forget that the light and liberty we enjoy today is traceable to this great work of God. Unless it had taken place, we should still be in the darkness that enveloped men’s minds at the beginning of the sixteenth century.

The outstanding — but not the sole — instrument in this divine operation was Martin Luther. The way in which God fashioned the servant whom He set apart and prepared for this work is very interesting and profoundly instructive. God coordinated with the service of Luther the activities of others, but he was first among peers. He had certain qualities which fitted him to be the spearhead of the movement. God moved the hearts of princes, He had stirred up the neglected study of Greek and Hebrew, and, above all, He brought out from the obscurity in which they had long lain the precious Scriptures of truth. The invention of printing which had taken place a little earlier made possible, in a way hitherto undreamed of, a vast multiplication of the copies of the Bible and the writings of Luther and others. Wycliffe’s translation and others in other European languages already existed, but only in manuscript form, and the Bible was to many an unknown book. Luther was twenty years old when he saw a Latin Bible for the first time, among the books in the university library of Erfurt.

Luther was born in 1483, the son of a comparatively poor miner, who, however, made considerable sacrifices to have him well educated. He hoped to see him an accomplished lawyer who would make a name for himself in the world. God had other plans. At Erfurt, Luther took the degrees of M.A. and Doctor of Philosophy. When two years earlier he had opened the Bible for the first time, it produced a profound effect upon his soul. A serious illness, an accident and the sudden death of a friend had each affected him deeply, and then, returning one day across the mountains from his home to the University, a violent storm overtook him. The lightening struck the earth immediately before him. “Encompassed with the anguish and terror of death” — to use his own words — he made a vow that if he were spared, he would give up the world and devote his life to God. From that moment he resolved to fulfill his vow in the only way he knew; he became a monk. To the amazement of all and the distress of his parents, he immured himself in an Augustinian convent. There he nearly killed himself with his austerities. He had one compensation. In the convent was a chained Bible, and every moment he could snatch from the arduous round of a mendicant monk’s life he spent poring over this sacred and beloved volume. All his religious exercises — his fastings and his tears — only led him more and more deeply to realize the corruption of his own heart. The holiness he longed for he could not attain. He knew God as the God of Sinai, but not yet as the Saviour God, who gave His only begotten Son.

Staupitz, the vicar-general of the Augustinian convents, who, though himself a monk, had the light of salvation in his soul, took a tender interest in him and sought to comfort him with a sense of the grace which he himself had. But while comforted and helped, full assurance and peace with God were yet to come. The ground in Luther’s soul was being deeply ploughed. He fell grievously ill. Again appalled by the terror of death, he was visited in his cell by one of the aged monks who repeated the simple words of the creed: “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.” Luther assented. “Ah!” said the monk, “you must believe not only in the forgiveness of David’s and Peter’s sins; it is God’s command that we believe our own sins are forgiven us.” Then he added a sentence from the writings of Bernard of Clairvaux: “The testimony of the Holy Ghost in thy heart is this: Thy sins are forgiven thee.” Luther was impressed. God had spoken; Luther believed.

From now on he got fresh help from the Word, fresh grace from on high. After three years in the cloister, Luther was appointed professor at Wittenberg, though he still remained a member of his order and still lived in the monastery. At first he taught philosophy, a task uncongenial to him. He longed to unfold the riches of the Word of God, and to this end he became a professor of divinity — not of the dry doctrines of the schools, but of the Bible. It was then he was struck by the words in Romans 1:17: “The just shall live by faith.” Further light was entering his soul. Nothing like these lectures of Luther had been heard before, and students crowded to hear him.

He was sent on a mission to Rome, for with all his light, he was still a bigoted son of the Romish Church. Taken ill on the journey and once more faced with the prospect of death, those words again came home to his soul in power: “The just shall live by faith.” At Rome he was bitterly disillusioned. Expecting to find sanctity and peace, he found corruption and violence. Still fascinated by the superstitions of Babylon, he began to crawl up “Pilate’s Staircase” on his knees in order to obtain the special papal indulgence granted to those who performed this act of false piety. While thus engaged, a voice of power resounded within him: “The just shall live by faith.” This was the third time. It was God speaking. This was the light that was to dispel not only the darkness in Luther’s soul but to shine out, through God’s mercy, on the whole of Christendom and set thousands free. This divine sentence was to shake the papal edifice to its very foundations. The just shall live — not by keeping Romish superstitions — but by faith. This was the key that would open the gates of Babylon and set her prisoners free.

Luther himself had no idea of reforming the Church. His sole desire was to preach the truth. Nothing would have pleased him better at this time than to have been left in peace to make known the gospel to men high and low. But God was leading him in a path he knew not. The traffic in indulgences was at its height. Luther was seated one day in the confessional at Wittenberg. Many came and confessed their sins. Some confessed to very serious sins. But they showed no real repentance. Why? They had bought letters of indulgence. They had purchased forgiveness with money. They had paid a fine, so to speak, and all was settled. He made it clear to such persons that they could not expect absolution. This was reported to Tetzel, the notorious vendor of indulgences, then perambulating the district. His anger knew no bounds. The battle was joined. For the truth’s sake, Luther must speak out. He preached against this iniquity and, on October 31, 1517, fixed to the church door at Wittenberg his Ninety-Five Theses, which were intended to be the headings of a proposed debate, which he hoped would thoroughly ventilate the matter.

The Pope did not at first treat the matter seriously, but the Theses before long became the talk of Christendom, and he was compelled to act. Luther was summoned to meet the papal legate and ordered to recant. He agreed to do so if the legate could show him he was wrong. The legate saw him three times but could not prevail. A more cunning emissary of the Pope then took the matter in hand and urged Luther to desist from further attack on the traffic in indulgences. What he had already said and written had already had such an effect that Luther was prepared to let the matter rest for the moment and get on with his duties as teacher and preacher.

Meanwhile, Luther himself was making rapid progress in the truth. He began to see it was not only a matter of abuses in the Church, but that the whole Romish system was wrong — the very idea of a pope was wrong. Indeed, he soon came to regard the Pope as Antichrist. In October 1520, he published his famous book, The Babylonish Captivity of the Church. He was then thirty-seven years of age.

Chapter 24

The three years from 1517 to 1520 were a time of immense activity on Luther’s part. He began with his Ninety-Five Theses on indulgences. In after years he was astonished at his own temerity. “I entered,” he said, “into this controversy without any definite plan.” His righteous soul was vexed by the iniquity he beheld. Without thinking of the consequences, he struck his blow. He did not conceive it possible that the Pope and the bishops favored this evil. He wished to get the matter ventilated. As professor of theology, he could initiate a debate, and his Theses were published by affixing them in a public place. No one, however, accepted the challenge. There was no debate. But his Theses were read, copied and printed. The whole city was in commotion. Before long, the excitement spread all over Christendom. Men quickly perceived the implications. Rome itself was being challenged. An unknown monk was virtually throwing down a challenge to the Pope — was questioning the traditions of centuries. Who could ignore it? His Theses contained the seed that was to split the rock on which Rome was built.

We select just a few of the ninety-five:

No. 21 “The commissaries of indulgences are in error when they say that by the papal indulgence a man is delivered from every punishment and is saved.”

No. 27 “They preach mere human follies who maintain that as soon as the money rattles in the strong box, the soul flies out of purgatory.”

No. 32 “Those who fancy themselves sure of salvation by indulgences will go to perdition along with those who teach them so.”

No. 36 “Every Christian who truly repents of his sins enjoys an entire remission both of the penalty and the guilt, without any need of indulgences.”

No. 37 “Every true Christian, whether dead or alive, participates in all the blessings of Christ, or of the Church, by God’s gift and without a letter of indulgence.”

No. 53 “They are enemies of the Pope and of Jesus Christ who, by reason of the preaching of indulgences, forbid the preaching of the Word of God.”

No. 62 “The true and precious treasure of the Church is the holy gospel of the glory and grace of God.”

Before long these Theses had spread all over Christendom. To many souls they were the water of life. Many rejoiced that such a champion for the truth had arisen. Princes viewed them with favor, seeing in them a counter to the cupidity of Rome. Even the Pope smiled patronizingly, little realizing at first their real import. Some who saw the hope of their gains going received them with anger and dismay.

About this time Luther wrote a letter to Archbishop Albert of Mainz. In it he says, “Papal indulgences for building St. Peter’s are being carried around under the authority of your most distinguished self.” Then, after protesting strongly against them, he says, “Christ nowhere commands the preaching of indulgences, but He insistently commands that the gospel should be preached. Then what a dreadful thing it is and how great the peril of a bishop who says nothing about the gospel but readily allows indulgences to be noised abroad among his people in preference to the gospel!”

It was a bold move, for Luther was in the bishop’s diocese. Archbishop Albert seems to have treated the matter with indifference or contempt, little realizing the vast importance of the issue now raised by this then little-known monk.

His letter to Staupitz, Vicar of the Augustinian order, written in 1518, is a very revealing document. It appears that a remark by Staupitz had led Luther to the true meaning of repentance. The usual Latin word poenitentia meant either penance or repentance. He tells Staupitz how his remarks had led him to a better understanding of the word and that he had been led to look up the meaning in the Greek, which clearly indicated that repentance meant a change of mind. This simple discovery was another landmark in his soul history. Then he refers to his Theses and all the trouble which he had thereby incurred.

The closing paragraphs of this letter give a touching insight into his inner feelings at this time. He wrote:

“I have no possessions, nor do I desire them. Repute and fame, even if I had them, are things of the kind that the Destroyer is today busily destroying. All that remains to me is but one, small mortal frame, weak and worn with constant hardships. If by God’s will they were to do away with it by violence or villainy, they would make me the poorer by perhaps an hour or two of life. Enough for me is Jesus Christ, my sweet Saviour and atoning Lord, to whose praise I shall sing as long as I live.”

Shortly after this, he penned a letter to the Pope himself. He explains the publication of his Theses, saying that as a teacher of theology he had a right to conduct public debates and that it was a universal custom. He expresses surprise that they should have caused such a universal clamor and professes his allegiance to His Holiness in the terms of abject submission expected from such as himself in those days, for up to this time he still trusted and revered the Pope, who seems to have treated the matter with indifference. In the midst of the controversy, he wrote a short exposition of the Ten Commandments, the Apostles’ Creed and the Lord’s Prayer. They were written from the viewpoint of his new apprehension of the truth and must have been a tremendous contrast to the wretched theology of the day.

In 1520 he launched an appeal to the ruling classes of Germany. His object is indicated in the opening paragraph, which reads:

“It is not due to sheer impertinence or wantonness that I, a lone and simple man, have taken it upon myself to address your worships. All classes in Christendom, particularly in Germany, are now oppressed by distress and affliction, and this has stirred not only me but every man to cry out anxiously for help. It has compelled me to beg and pray that God will endow someone with His Spirit to bring aid to this unhappy nation. Proposals have often been made at councils but have been cunningly deferred by the guile of certain men, and matters have gone from bad to worse. Their artifices and wickedness I intend with God’s help to lay bare in order that, once shown up, they may never again present such hindrances or be so harmful.”

He then deals with the papal abuses one after another and finally gives twenty-seven proposals for improving the state of Christendom. This may seem an unwarranted interference in world affairs, but one has to bear in mind that in Luther’s day Church and State were viewed as one, and the religious and social life of the people was completely interwoven and dominated by Rome. His aim seems to have been to help to unravel the tangled skein so that men might render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and unto God the things that are God’s. The following extracts will give some idea of the scope of this work.

“The Romanists have very cleverly surrounded themselves with three walls, which have protected them till now in such a way that no one could reform them. As a result, the whole of Christendom has suffered woeful corruption. In the first place, when under the threat of secular force, they have stood firm and declared that secular force had no jurisdiction over them, but rather the opposite was the case, and the spiritual was superior to the secular. In the second place, when the Holy Scriptures have been used to reprove them, they have responded that no one except the Pope was competent to expound Scripture. In the third place, when threatened with a council, they have pretended that no one but the Pope could summon a council. In this way, they have adroitly nullified these three means of correction and avoided punishment. Thus they still remain in secure possession of these three walls and practice all the villainy and wickedness we see today. When they have been compelled to hold a council, they have made it nugatory by compelling the princes to swear in advance that the present position shall remain undisturbed. In addition, they have given the Pope full authority over all the decisions of a council, till it is a matter of indifference whether there be many councils or none, for they only deceive us with make-believes and sham-fights, so terribly fearful are they for their skins, if a truly free council were held. Further, the Romanists have overawed kings and princes till the latter believe it would be impious not to obey them in spite of all the deceitful and cunning dodges of theirs.

“May God now help us and give us one of those trumpets with which the walls of Jericho were overthrown, that we may blow away these walls of paper and straw, set free the Christian, corrective measures to punish sin, and bring the devil’s deceits and wiles to the light of day. In this way, may we be reformed through suffering and again receive God’s blessing.”

• • •

“To call popes, bishops, priests, monks and nuns the religious class, but princes, lords, artisans and farm-workers the secular class is a specious device invented by certain time-servers. But no one ought to be frightened by it, and for good reason, for all Christians whatsoever really and truly belong to the religious class, and there is no difference among them except insofar as they do different work. That is St. Paul’s meaning, in 1 Corinthians 12, when he says, ‘We are all one body, yet each member hath his own work for serving others.’ This applies to us all, because we have one baptism, one gospel and one faith, and we are all equally Christian, for baptism, gospel and faith alone make men religious and create a Christian people. When a pope or bishop anoints, grants tonsures, ordains, consecrates, or dresses differently from laymen, he may make a hypocrite of a man or an anointed image, but never a Christian or a spiritually-minded man. The fact is that our baptism consecrates us all without exception and makes us all priests. As St. Peter says, ‘You are a royal priesthood and a realm of priests’ (1 Peter 2:9), and Revelation, ‘Thou hast made us priests and kings by Thy blood’ (Rev. 5:9). If we ourselves as Christians did not receive a higher consecration than that given by pope or bishop, then no one would be made priest even by consecration at the hands of pope or bishop, nor would anyone be authorized to celebrate Eucharist or preach or pronounce absolution.”

• • •

“This arbitrary and deceptive ‘mental reservation’ on the part of the Pope creates a state of affairs in Rome that beggars description. You can find there a buying and selling, a bartering and bargaining, a lying and trickery, robbery and stealing, pomp, procuration, knavery, and all sorts of stratagems bringing God into contempt, till it would be impossible for the Antichrist to govern more wickedly. There is nothing in Venice, Antwerp or Cairo to compare with the fair which traffics in Rome. In these cities, right and reason enjoy some respect, but here things go on in a way that pleases the devil himself. This kind of morality flows like a tide into all the world. Such people rightly fear a reformation or an unfettered council. They would rather set kings and princes at odds than that these should unite and bring a council together. No one could bear to have villainies of this kind come to the light of day.

“Finally, the Pope has built a market-house for the convenience of all this refined traffic, viz., the house of the datarius in Rome. This is where all those resort who deal in this way in benefices and livings. From him they must buy these ‘glosses’ and transactions and get power to practice their arch-villainy. In former days, Rome was still gracious enough to sell or suppress justice for a moderate price. But today she has put her prices so high that she lets no one act the villain before he has paid a huge sum. If that is not more like a den of iniquity than any other den one can imagine, then I do not know what a den of iniquity is.

“But, if you bring money to this ecclesiastical market, you can buy any of the goods I have described. Here anyone can pay and then legally charge interest on loans of any sort. You can get a legal right to goods you have stolen or seized. Here vows are annulled; here monks receive liberty to leave their orders; here marriage is for sale to the clergy; here bastards can become legitimate, and any form of dishonor and shame can achieve dignity; all kinds of iniquity and evil are knighted and ennobled. Here a marriage is permitted which is within the forbidden degrees or which is otherwise objectionable. Oh what a jugglery and extortion go on here, until it would seem that all the laws of the canon were only given to produce gilded nooses from which a man must free himself if he would become a Christian. Indeed, here the devil becomes a saint and a god: What cannot be done anywhere else in heaven or earth can be done in this house. They call the process compositiones. Yes, compositions — really confusions. Oh how light a tax is the Rhine-toll compared with the exactions of this sacred house!

“Let no one imagine I am overdrawing the picture. Everything is public, and people in Rome have to acknowledge that it is terrible beyond the power to describe. I have not yet touched, nor do I intend to touch, upon the hellish dregs of the personal vices; I am dealing only with commonplace things, and yet I have not space to name them all. The bishops and priests, and especially the university doctors, whose salaries are given for the purpose, ought to have done their duty and, with one accord, written and declaimed against these things, but they have done the very opposite.”

He also criticized the state of the universities, saying little of Christianity was taught in them and that the blind pagan teacher Aristotle was treated as of more consequence than Christ.

“In his book, On the Soul, which is one of his best, the wretched fellow teaches that the soul dies with the body, and many have tried, in vain, to defend him. It is as if we did not possess the Holy Scriptures where we find a superabundance of teaching on the whole subject, of which Aristotle has not the faintest inkling. Yet this defunct pagan has attained supremacy — has impeded, and almost suppressed, the Scriptures of the living God. When I think of this lamentable state of affairs, I cannot avoid believing that the Evil One introduced the study of Aristotle.”

In October 1520, he launched the treatise already referred to, entitled The Babylonish Captivity of the Church. In this he attacked the whole Romish system. Henry VIII wrote a reply entitled A Defense of the Seven Sacraments, which gained for him from the Pope the title “Fidei Defensor.” Luther had taken the seven Sacraments of the Romanists — namely, Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, Confirmation, Penance, Marriage, Ordination and Extreme Unction — and exposed them one by one, showing that according to Scripture there were but two, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

In September 1520, Luther wrote an open letter to Pope Leo X and accompanied it by a little book entitled Christian Freedom, which set out his thoughts as to the gospel, and in it he clearly showed that the believer was justified solely by faith and that works follow faith. A few extracts will give the reader an idea of Luther’s teaching on this fundamental subject. Let it be borne in mind it was but three years since he had nailed his Theses to the church door.

“It is easy to see why faith can do so much and why good works can never be equivalent to it, for works of merit are not such as to depend on the divine Word as in the case of faith, nor can they live in the soul. Only the Word and faith exercise sway in the soul. Just as iron becomes red like fire through its union with the fire, so does the soul become like the Word through its union with the Word. Thus we see that a Christian has sufficient in his faith. Works are not needed to make him become acceptable to God. And if such works are no longer a prerequisite, then assuredly all commandments and laws are like broken chains —and if his chains are broken, he is assuredly free. That is Christian freedom, gained by faith alone. It is wrong to think this means that we can either be idle or do evil; rather, it means that we have no need to perform works of merit in order to attain godliness and salvation. But we shall deal further with this matter later on.”

• • •

“Hence both expressions are true: Good and devout works never make a man good and duteous, but a good and religious man does good and religious works, nor do sinful works make a man sinful, but rather it is a sinful man who does sinful works. Thus every argument proves that the person must first be good and godly; after that come all the works that are good. Good works proceed logically from a godly and good person. It is as Christ said, ‘An evil tree bears no good fruit; a good tree bears no evil fruit.’ It is evident that the fruits do not bear the tree, nor do the trees grow on the fruits, but rather the trees bear the fruits, and the fruits grow on the trees.”

• • •

“Just as works do not make a man a believer, so also they do not make him godly. But just as faith makes one godly, so also does it produce good works. Therefore, it is not what one does that makes one religious. A man must be religious before he can do the works of religion. And it is evident that only faith, coming from pure grace through Christ and His Word, is sufficient to make a person religious and save him; neither works nor commandments are necessary to a Christian before he can be saved. He is free from all commandments. He does all that he does quite voluntarily without recompense and apart from seeking his own advantage or salvation. He already has sufficient, and he is already saved through his faith and the grace of God. What he does is done just to please God.”

These writings were rapidly multiplied by the printing press and received with tremendous interest throughout Christendom. The effect was incalculable. God used them to enlighten many souls. A flowing tide had now set in, the current of which would never be stemmed. Dire troubles and dark days were to follow, but the truth was never again to be submerged as it had been in medieval times.

Chapter 25

While these great events were stirring Christendom, Charles V was elected to the imperial throne. He thus became the paramount prince of Europe, and his sovereignty was acknowledged by the greater part of Europe and the New World. In 1521 a historic Diet was convened at Worms to consider many important matters of state. Attended by the electors, princes and other dignitaries of the empire, it formed a sort of imperial parliament. So agitated was Christendom as a result of Luther’s teaching that it was decided to summon the monk of Wittenberg to appear before this august assembly.

In virtue of the papal bull, Luther’s life was already forfeit as a condemned heretic. He was, however, granted a safe conduct by the Emperor. Huss, a century before, had been betrayed and martyred in similar circumstances. Would Luther go? In dependence on God he went, fearing nothing, for he was fully prepared to lay down his life for the truth. “Pray not for me,” he said. “Pray for the Word of God.” His agonizing prayer, as the time of the ordeal approached, is a sublime testimony to his faith and dependence on God.

On April 17, 1521, the Diet assembled. The Emperor, seated on his throne, was surrounded by a magnificent assembly: the electors, princes, dukes and other rulers of his wide dominions, ambassadors from foreign courts, and the dignitaries of the Church. Before them stood Luther in his monk’s gown. Confronted with his own writings, he was challenged to acknowledge them and to say whether he persisted in his opinions. He asked for time to prepare a considered reply and was given till the following day. At his second appearance, he spoke soberly and humbly, yet firmly, and concluded by saying that unless he could be convinced to the contrary by the testimony of the Scriptures, he could not and would not retract. Looking around on the illustrious company, he added, “Here I stand; I can do no other; may God help me! Amen!” His words made a profound impression. God had mightily supported His servant. Many were in his favor, both among the nobility and the people. His arrival in the city had indeed been attended by vast crowds. The Emperor was anxious to punish him, Rome thirsted for his blood, but God had further work for him to do, and man could not touch him. He was allowed to leave Worms unmolested. But his life was hourly in danger. For his own safety, he was shut up by his friends in the lonely castle at Wartburg in the Thuringian forest. For a time he disappeared from the public eye, and it was not known whether he was alive or dead. In this castle he studied and wrote. From it issued further writings, and there he began one of his most valuable services, the translation of the New Testament into the German tongue.

The Holy Spirit was operating in hearts far and wide, and many were drinking in the truth. The long, dark night of papal dominion and Romish superstition was beginning to disperse before the rising beams of recovered truth. It was the Word of God which had emancipated Luther. It was the Word of God, freed from the trammels of human misinterpretation, which Luther fought for. It was this Word — the Holy Scripture, now being disseminated throughout Europe — which was to transform the hearts and lives of men and to change the face of Christendom. At first it was doctrine — particularly the great foundation truth of justification by faith. This was the keystone of the whole work of recovery. Practices for a time remained unaffected. Outwardly all went on as before. But as the Word of God lighted up the scene, the idolatry and corruption of the Middle Ages began to melt away. With the open Bible in their hands, the people could learn for themselves the will of God and judge between truth and error. Many of the monks and nuns left their convents, the Mass was replaced by the Lord’s supper in a more scriptural form, and many of the clergy married. Luther was the last to leave the Augustinian monastery of Wittenberg, for it was his only home. It became his home in another way later; he married a godly lady who had herself given up a nun’s life, and the monastery of Wittenberg was transformed into a Christian home.

Luther was opposed to extremism. He knew God was working. He saw clearly that spiritual results could not be effected by human means. While God providentially preserved him and used the protection of the Christian Elector Frederick and others to this end, Luther did not rely on the secular power, and more than once he risked his life against the advice of his would-be protectors.

The Emperor was still anxious to destroy this so-called heresy. Another Diet, this time at Spires, was called, but the Pope and the Emperor disagreed, war ensued, and Rome was sacked by the Emperor’s soldiers. A few years’ respite, during which the gospel spread more and more, was the result. Peace restored, the Pope and the Emperor combined again to stamp out the new movement. A further Diet was convened at Spires in 1529, but while the majority were ready to enforce an edict of persecution, the Elector John of Saxony, other princes and the representatives of the free cities were opposed. Some were even prepared to resort to force, but Luther strongly deprecated this. He continually repeated, “In retiring and in rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.” “We would rather die ten times,” he said, “than to see our gospel cause one drop of blood to be shed. Our part is to be like lambs of the slaughter. The cross of Christ must be borne. ... If the Emperor requires us to be given up to his tribunals, we are ready to appear. You cannot defend our faith.” It was about this time that Luther wrote his famous hymn, “Our God is a strong tower.”

Those members of the Diet who opposed the persecution were overruled and they were thus placed in the position of acting as the tool of Rome to apprehend and destroy those who had accepted the truth. Declining to be the executors of a wicked decree, they drew up a protest, in which they said, “Adhesion to your resolution would be acting against our conscience, condemning a doctrine that we maintain to be Christian and pronouncing that it ought to be abolished in our states. ... This would be to deny our Lord Jesus Christ. We protest by these presents before God our only Creator, Preserver, Redeemer and Saviour ... that we for us and for our people neither consent nor adhere in any manner whatsoever to the proposed decree in anything that is contrary to God, to His holy Word, to our right conscience, to the salvation of our souls and to the last decree of Spires” (which had granted liberty of conscience). This was the document which gave rise to the name Protestant. It should be borne in mind that it was rulers, acting in their capacity as such, who presented this remarkable document to the Emperor. The protest was against being made the Pope’s tools to persecute those who accepted the truth. It is a striking testimony to the influence of the gospel on the minds of men in authority.

Meanwhile, Luther hurried on with the translation of the Old Testament. It has been criticized as not being a perfect translation, but when we think of the stormy times and the difficulties under which it was done, Luther’s health being poor at the time, some shortcomings may be excused.

The Emperor changed his tactics. In 1530 he summoned a new council of the imperial states, this time at Augsburg, in order to secure religious unity. “Let us,” he said, “all fight under one and the same leader — Jesus Christ — and let us strive thus to meet in one communion, one church, one unity.” How pious it sounds! The wolf had put on sheep’s clothing. Augsburg was thronged, and the Christian princes took advantage of this to have the gospel preached in some of the city churches. Immense crowds came to listen. The papists were beside themselves and would fain have stopped it. Luther himself remained at Coburg some distance away. Melancthon was commissioned to draw up a confession of faith for submission to the Emperor. The Elector of Saxony desired to sign it. Melancthon, who, like Luther, did not desire to bring in the secular power, at first refused, but the Elector said, “I desire to confess the Lord. My electoral hat and my ermine are not so precious to me as the cross of Jesus Christ.” He signed it, and so did the other princes. The Emperor agreed to hear the confession read. In it the basic truths of Christianity were clearly outlined. The distinction between the Church and the State was also drawn, the Lord’s words, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36), being quoted.

It was one of the most momentous days in history. The gospel was, in effect, preached to the Emperor, the princes, the lords and the other notables of Europe. Bishops and archbishops of the Church were present. It produced a profound impression and was circulated all over the Continent. Some of the nobility were won over to the truth. Luther himself said, “Our confession will penetrate into every court, and the sound thereof will spread through the whole earth.” This was the climax of the Reformation.

Rome could not confute the truth, so she strove to effect a compromise. It was to no purpose. No agreement was reached. The Emperor remained obdurate and resolved on the extermination of the heretics. He wrote to that effect to the Pope, demanding the support of all Christian princes.

Faced with the threatening attitude of the Emperor, the Protestant princes formed the league of Smacald (1530) for mutual defense. For some time they were left in peace and the truth made steady progress. The Pope, Clement VII, died in 1534 and his successor, Paul, was urged by the Emperor to call a general council. Years, however, passed before it assembled. Finally, a council was proposed to meet at Trent in 1542 but again delayed, owing to war between Germany and France. Its sittings finally began in 1546. The reformers and those who supported their cause refused to acknowledge it. The Emperor now decided to make war on the Protestant princes. In 1547 their small army was defeated. The Elector John of Saxony and Philip Landgrave of Hesse were thrown into prison and ignominiously treated. The Emperor’s army overran Germany and a form of popery was reimposed. God in His providence frustrated the counsels of wickedness. Maurice, who had become Elector of Saxony in place of his defeated nephew, turned against the Emperor and allied himself with the King of France. The Emperor’s dominions were invaded, and he had to flee. In 1552 he was compelled to sign the Peace of Passau, granting religious liberty. Further troubles assailed him. The Turks ravaged Hungary and were threatening Austria. Even the Pope turned against him in order to acquire the kingdom of Naples. In 1555 another Diet was held at Augsburg, when entire freedom of worship was accorded to Protestants in Germany. After three years, ninety percent of the population had abandoned Romanism. Charles resigned the crown in the following year and entered a monastery where he died three years later.

Luther did not live to see the consummation of his work. In 1546 he fell asleep in Jesus at Eisleben, the town in which he was born. He was thus taken from the scene before the painful and ignominious defeat of the Protestant princes in 1547. He had counseled them against war, but they had not heeded, and they had learned by bitter experience that their swords could not prevail.

When Maurice attacked the Emperor, the Council of Trent was sitting. On the approach of his army, the bishops fled for their lives, and the council thus adjourned, its work unfinished. It had met at first at the urgent representations of the Emperor with the ostensible object of reforming the Church and healing the breach of Christendom. By delay and subterfuge, it avoided doing either. It met again ten years later with a different purpose, namely to reestablish the power of Rome.

“The history of Europe for a hundred years was the history of the efforts of the Church, with open force or secret conspiracy, with all the energy, base or noble, which passion or passionate enthusiasm could inspire, to crush and annihilate its foes. No means came amiss to it, sword or stake, torture chamber or assassin’s dagger. The effects of the Church’s working were seen in ruined nations and smoking cities, in human beings tearing one another to pieces like raging maniacs, and the honor of the Creator of the world befouled by the hideous crimes committed in His name.” These are the words of Professor Froude. At the close of his lectures on the Council of Trent, from which the quotation is taken, this authority said, “The Reformation is now said to have settled nothing. I wish to recognize that every one of the ‘hundred grievances’ of Germany and every one of the abuses complained of by the English House of Commons in 1529 has been long ago swept away, and so completely that their very existence is now forgotten.” As a matter of fact, the whole course of history has been changed and the human race emancipated from an evil thrall which was every year more and more unbearable. The power which accomplished this was the Word of God. On the other hand, God also interposed, at times, in providential power and scattered the forces of evil, as at the time of the Spanish Armada, the siege of Leyden and the landing in England of the Prince of Orange.

Chapter 26

The light of the gospel began to shine in France five years before Luther nailed his historic Theses to the door of Wittenberg Church. In 1512, the very year when Luther, crawling up “Pilate’s Staircase” at Rome, heard for the third time that powerful voice saying, “The just shall live by faith,” a professor of theology in the University of Paris published a commentary on the epistles of Paul, in which the doctrine of justification by faith was clearly expounded. This man’s name was Lefevre, at that time sixty-seven years old. Some time before, he had been editing the lives of the saints, a work from which he finally turned away in disgust. He then applied himself to the study of Paul’s epistles. From that time light entered his soul and began to shine out. He boldly taught to the astonished students, “It is God alone who, by His grace, through faith justifies unto everlasting life.” The new teaching made a great impression, and among those who listened was a young man named Farel, son of a noble family from a village near Grenoble. He was a devout Romanist, fervently attached to the forms and superstitions of the Church. He listened eagerly and was promptly and fully convinced. All chains were broken save one — he still adored the saints — but he soon learned that the Lord alone was worthy of that homage. Liberated in his soul, he turned to the Scriptures and began to study Hebrew and Greek. From now on he made rapid progress in the truth. Meanwhile, the truth was making headway in the University and others were drinking the water of life.

A distinguished nobleman at the Court of Francis, who had become Bishop of Meaux, received the gospel. Through him the King’s sister, Margaret of Valois, was converted, and many of the nobility were favorably influenced. The study of the Scriptures and the revival of learning, which had the patronage of the King, went hand in hand.

But opposition soon raised its head. The King made a concordat with the Pope by which he obtained the right to appoint bishops and other dignitaries of the Church. Rich benefices went to favorites and courtiers. The doctors of dry scholasticism and a dissolute court now combined to attack the truth. A certain Beda, head of the Sorbonne, led the movement.

By this time, Luther’s teachings had become known, and to be a Lutheran was a term of reproach applied to any whose opinions were based on Scripture. Beda sought occasion to attack Lefevre. He seized on an absurd pretext, namely that Lefevre distinguished Mary Magdalene, the sister of Lazarus and the woman in Luke 7 as three distinct persons. Orthodox teaching regarded them as one and the same. It is a sidelight on the fanaticism of that day that this shocking heresy nearly cost Lefevre his life. But for the King’s intervention, he would have perished as a heretic.

Luther’s disputation with Eck was causing a great stir at this time and the University of Paris was appealed to. After a year’s consideration, the University decided Luther’s works should be burned. Heretics were now numerous, and the King’s aid was sought against them, so far in vain, for he regarded the leaders as men of learning who should not be suppressed.

Lefevre, however, found it necessary to retire to Meaux, where the enlightened bishop had offered him asylum. The good bishop, moreover, began a thorough reformation of his diocese. He instituted a college for the training of ministers, so that his diocese might be served by worthy and evangelical men. Farel and others, who found the atmosphere of Paris intolerant, were warmly received at Meaux. Meanwhile, Margaret of Valois poured out her soul in sighs and tears as she found herself alone in the worldly surroundings of the court without Christian fellowship.

The truth, driven from Paris, began to spread in Meaux. The gospel was openly preached in the churches. In 1522 Lefevre published a French translation of the four gospels and, later in the same year, the remainder of the New Testament. In 1525 a French version of the Psalms followed. By this means many were enlightened. The gospel was spreading now among the working class. Artisans, fullers and woolcombers found their pleasure and recreation in conversing together about the Word of God. Sundays and holidays were devoted to the reading of the Scriptures. Superstition gave way to piety, and the friends of the truth rejoiced. The gospel spread to other villages, and the whole diocese became permeated with evangelical doctrine.

The enemy was now roused to attack the new movement. The monks of Meaux went to Paris and denounced the bishop and his confederates. “The city,” they said, “and all the neighborhood are infected with heresy and its polluted waters flow from the episcopal palace.”

The bishop, though zealous, was weak and timid; he bowed to the demands of Rome, and idolatry returned to the churches. Deprived of their leaders, the simple Christians of Meaux and the neighborhood began to edify each other. They met in secret, prayed together and encouraged each other. Prominent among them was a woolcomber named Leclerc who went from house to house exhorting his friends. His enthusiasm outran his discretion. He posted an anti-papal placard on the very gates of the cathedral. It created an uproar. He was imprisoned, publicly whipped and branded on the forehead. His life, however, was spared and he withdrew to a village some distance away and finally to Metz.

Among the noblemen who had espoused the cause of the gospel was Berquin. He had written against the practice of invoking the Virgin Mary. His works were being disseminated throughout France. This had to be stopped. His library was searched. The hated books of Luther and other reformers were discovered. He was accused before Parliament and imprisoned. This was in 1523. Once again the King intervened and he was freed, but in 1529 he was burned alive.

Leclerc, who had been driven by persecution to Metz, began to preach the gospel there to men of his own class, and many were converted. At the same time, many of the clergy and nobility of the city were affected by Luther’s stand at Worms. About this time, too, a monk of Tournay began to preach in Metz. Shortly after, in 1524, arrived Lambert, an ex-friar from Avignon. Brought up in that hotbed of papal vice, he found his way to the Saviour through some of Luther’s tracts which had reached his cell. He determined to leave Avignon and visit Luther. It was not long before his emancipation was complete. He was now in Metz, but within a fortnight he was driven out. Nevertheless, by the zeal of Leclerc and one named Chatelain the gospel was spread in the city. Then again Leclerc’s zeal got the better of him. He repaired one night to a celebrated chapel some distance from the city, which housed some highly venerated images of Mary and the saints. These he destroyed. On the following day, a great procession, arriving to do homage to these idols, found them in fragments. The anger of the priests, the monks and the people was unbounded. Leclerc was seized, brought before the magistrates and condemned to be burned. At the scaffold, he was treated with horrible cruelty, his flesh being torn off in many places by hot pincers and his body reduced to ashes by a slow fire. In the midst of these tortures, he repeated in a firm voice part of Psalm 115: “Their idols are silver and gold” (vss. 48). His fellow-laborer, Chatelain, soon followed him to the stake.

Lambert, in exile, translated the Scriptures and other Christian literature into French and sent them into France. Farel went to the town of Gapp, near his home, and God used him to the conversion of his three brothers. Being compelled again to leave those parts, he went to Wurtemburg and became the means of disseminating many copies of the Scriptures and other helpful writings. On St. Anthony’s Day, 1524, meeting a procession carrying the image of the Saint, in a fit of imprudent zeal, he seized the image and threw it into the river. He barely escaped with his life and had to leave Germany.

While Francis was at war with Spain, his sister Margaret stayed at Lyons and greatly furthered the gospel by her influence. After his defeat at Pavia, Francis became more hostile to the gospel, the new teaching being blamed for the disaster.

In 1534 placards denouncing the Romish religion suddenly appeared all over Paris. This provocative act enraged the papists, and the King made up his mind to show his zeal for Rome. A multitude of persons were arrested, including many persons of note. A number were burned to death.

Francis came more and more under the influence of the Romish hierarchy. In 1540 the Parliament of Provence decreed the entire extermination of the Vaudois. After some years’ delay, this hateful plan was put into execution. In 1545 twenty-two towns and villages were plundered and burned, and abominable atrocities were committed. Four thousand persons were slaughtered, and many were sent to the galleys for life. Words fail to convey the suffering of these long-tried and innocent victims of papal hate. Their only crime was that they worshipped God in separation from Rome, whose idolatries they abhorred.

Francis died in 1547 and was succeeded by Henry II. It was a period of awful persecution, but the gospel still continued to spread. Many of the nobility and persons of education and wealth had been won over to the Huguenot cause, but a political leaven was thereby introduced. Among these distinguished supporters were the Prince of Condé, Admiral Coligny and the Queen of Navarre, mother of Henry IV, who was an earnest supporter of the Reformation. Quieter times followed, due in part to the many Protestants who were in positions of influence and also to the war between Henry and Charles V. Persecution was revived in 1559. Huguenots were assailed by the mob, without redress or protection, for the King was bent on the destruction of the movement. In 1560 the King was killed in a tournament. For the next thirty years France came under the control of the wicked but clever Catherine de Medici. From now on, politics and religion mingled in the Huguenot cause. In 1561 there was an attempt at compromise in a conference held at Poisy. It did not succeed, and violence and massacre were the lot of the Huguenots. They took up the sword in self-defense. Strife between them and the Romanists continued and increased, till it culminated in the abominable massacre of St. Bartholomew on August 24, 1572, when fifty thousand Huguenots were slaughtered in cold blood. The Pope celebrated this awful atrocity with great rejoicing. When the King tried to excuse it on the grounds that the Huguenots were guilty of conspiracy, Pope Gregory XIII rebuked his moderation and commended his action as pious and glorious. Processions and thanksgiving services were held in Rome. Like the King, many of his Catholic subjects were inclined to excuse the massacre as an unfortunate accident, but the papal envoy assured them, on the contrary, that they had accomplished a worthy deed. At Lyons, the leader in the work of butchery was sought out and given the Pope’s blessing and absolution.

Twenty more years of suffering and strife ensued, until, finally, the Edict of Nantes was signed in 1592, and religious freedom was granted to the Huguenots, which they enjoyed, though not without some interruption, until its revocation by Louis XIV in 1685, when further, terrible tribulations came upon these sorely tried defenders of the faith, and they lasted right up to the French Revolution.

This brief sketch does not do justice to the poignant story of the Reformation in France. God alone knows how many thousands in those long years of suffering were led out of Romish darkness into the light and liberty of the gospel, or how many won the crown of life and were purified and made white in the furnace of affliction and torture. But not a tear was shed but will find its rich compensation when the day of Christ appears and the suffering bride of the suffering Lamb shines in her resplendent garments.

Chapter 27

The light kindled in Wycliffe’s days was still burning, if dimly, and the interest in the Scriptures had not died out in England when the Reformation dawned. In the interval, prison and the stake had claimed their victims. The vicious hatred of the Bible on the part of the Romish clergy is a phenomenon which can only be attributed to Satanic influence.

In 1514 a London tradesman named Hun, who was accustomed to read the Bible daily, though he had not separated from the Church, was thrown into the Lollards’ Tower in St. Paul’s, and though no adequate evidence was forthcoming to convict him, the priests, determined not to lose their prey, had him strangled. At the inquest murder was proved, and the murderers confessed but were not punished. Later, Hun’s Bible was discovered; it was a copy of Wycliffe’s translation. His body was therefore dug up by orders of a clerical court and burned as that of a heretic.

Between the accession of Henry VIII in 1509 and the publication of Luther’s Theses, a number of persons died as martyrs for the truth in England. The case of John Brown of Ashford is well-known. Conversing with a priest on a barge traveling down the Thames, he let slip some suspicious remarks, was arrested as a heretic, and after some weeks of cruel treatment was burned to death at Ashford.

The principal agency that God used at this time for the revival of the gospel in England was His own written Word, and He overruled its dissemination, in spite of every obstacle, in a most marvelous way. Erasmus had had printed his revision of the New Testament in Greek, and copies were received at London, Oxford and Cambridge and excited great interest and enthusiasm among scholars. Among them was Thomas Bilney, a student of Trinity Hall, Cambridge. Like others, he had sought rest of soul in the empty forms of Rome, but in vain. Reading this, he discovered the priceless words, “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief ” (1 Tim. 1:15). If Christ could save the chief of sinners, thought he, why not me? His bands were loosed; Bilney was saved. He later became a bold evangelist and sealed his testimony in the fire, in the year 1531. His marked Bible is in the library of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge.

At Oxford there was a student from Gloucestershire, William Tyndale. He, too, studied Erasmus’ New Testament and began to give public lectures on it, but they were not welcome at Oxford, so Tyndale went to Cambridge and joined Bilney and another young man named Fryth. From the Scriptures alone they learned the truth. Tyndale returned to his native country and became a private tutor. He began to spread the truths he had learned. But the hostility of the clergy was too strong. Luther’s works were now entering England and provoking much opposition and persecution. Tyndale realized what a powerful instrument the Scriptures would be if translated into the English tongue and set himself to the task of translation. The atmosphere became too hostile in England, so he went reluctantly to the Continent to complete the work.

Latimer was at Cambridge and bitterly opposed the truth now spreading among the students there. When he took his degree in divinity, he delivered a violent discourse against the teachings of Melancthon. Bilney longed to deliver him from the thrall he was in, and one day begged him to receive his confession. His confession was an account of his own exercises and his conversion. The light penetrated Latimer’s soul, and he was immediately and completely changed. He soon began to proclaim the truth he formerly opposed. Stafford (divinity professor at Cambridge), Barnes (who lectured on the great writers of antiquity, but also on the New Testament), Bilney and Latimer were all sowing the precious seed of the gospel at this time. Meanwhile, Tyndale’s work was completed. Very soon the precious contraband began to arrive from the Continent. A pious curate named Garret hid the Bibles in his house, and thence they found their way, in time, all over England.

We who are so familiar with the Scriptures cannot conceive what it meant in that day to a people who had not known their beauty, who heard the forms of religion uttered in an unknown tongue, to whom God was a hard judge, who saw the clergy, for the most part, living empty, vicious lives — we can hardly grasp what it meant to our forefathers to read, in their own tongue, the living oracles of God and learn the gospel of grace, that God was a giving God, and that salvation was offered to all men in Christ without works, without money and without price.

But Satan stirred up his minions to oppose the spread of the truth. The blow was struck at Oxford. All the friends of the gospel there were thrown into prison. Garret, who had gone thither with copies of Tyndale’s Bible, was also seized. They were thrown into a stinking dungeon and kept there half a year. Gradually they succumbed to the vile conditions and four died. The rest emerged ghosts of their former selves but, through God’s mercy, survived to serve the cause for which they had suffered. Cambridge now became the object of attack. In 1526 Wolsey’s agents arrested Barnes. Under pressure he recanted, but he rose again later.

Meanwhile, New Testaments continued to come in. The Bishop of London purchased a large supply simply to burn them. They were soon replaced by a revised edition. A Dutch printing house, seeing the eager demand, printed five thousand, and these selling quickly, they reprinted them twice more. Tyndale used the money the bishop had paid for the burnt Bibles to print a new and revised edition. England was flooded with Bibles. Great was the dismay of the clergy; great the spread of the truth.

About this time Henry quarreled with the Pope over his divorce with Catherine of Aragon. A previous pope had sanctioned that marriage, though it was contrary to Christian standards, for Catherine had been his brother’s wife. The Pope refused to undo what his predecessor had sanctioned. The universities were appealed to, the first marriage condemned as illegal, and Henry married Anne Boleyn. Matters ended by Henry repudiating the authority of the Pope and making himself the head of the English Church. The monasteries, many of which were hotbeds of vice, were despoiled and suppressed. The power of Rome was broken in England. Cranmer, who was favorable to the truth, became primate and had much influence with the King. It was a strange alliance, but God in His providence overruled it for the protection of the gospel cause.

But if Henry had rejected the Pope, he clung with bigoted attachment to the doctrines of Rome and was as violent a persecutor as the Pope himself. Faithful Tyndale was pursued by his papist enemies and strangled and burned at Antwerp in 1536. His last words were a prayer that God should open the King of England’s eyes. If Henry’s eyes were not opened, God answered Tyndale’s prayer in another way.

Cranmer persuaded the King to approve a translation by Miles Coverdale, and an order was made that a copy should be placed in every parish church in the land. Moreover, much to the annoyance of the Romanists, six copies were chained to desks in St. Paul’s Cathedral for public use. This was in 1538.

“It was wonderful,” wrote the historian Strype, “to see with what joy this book of God was received, not only among the learneder sort, and those that were known lovers of the Reformation, but generally all England over, among all the vulgar and common people, and with what greediness God’s Word was read, and what resort to places where the reading of it was. Everybody that could bought the book or busily read it or got others to read it for them, if they could not read it themselves, and divers more elderly people learned to read on purpose.” Indeed, it has been truly remarked that it was the Word of God itself that was the great instrument of the Reformation in England.

Notwithstanding all this, and despite the fact that the Pope had laid the kingdom under interdict, Henry insisted in 1539 on an Act called the Six Articles in which the chief tenets of Rome were enumerated and in which it was made an offence to question or preach against them. For offence against the first, the doctrine of transubstantiation, the penalty was burning alive; for offence against the others, hanging. Cranmer protested in vain. Latimer and another bishop were imprisoned, besides five hundred other persons. The prisons of London became crowded with victims. Barnes and Garret were burned to death. Two papists suffered a similar fate for denying the King’s supremacy of the Church. Lambert, a London clergyman, appeared before a court over which the King himself presided. He was condemned, and even at the stake suffered exceptional cruelty at the hands of the executioners. Among the last to suffer in this reign was Anne Askew, daughter of a Lincolnshire knight. Accused of denying transubstantiation, she was thrown into prison, where she spent a year. Then she was so cruelly tortured on the rack that she all but died and had to be carried on a chair to the stake. There, opposite St. Bartholomew’s Church, Smithfield, with three other confessors and in the presence of a great crowd, certain of the nobility of the realm occupying a privileged position in front of the church, they burned her alive. Of such crimes is the human heart capable, even though addicted to a religion which professed to be Christian. No outward form can make man other than he is — a fallen creature, unless and until he is transformed by divine grace.

Henry VIII himself died soon after. In the amazing providence of God, his only son Edward, by Jane Seymour, a boy of surprising virtue and attainments despite his tender years, succeeded to the Crown. He was then in his tenth year. The Earl of Hertford became Protector. Cranmer is said to have wept for joy. He himself became a member of the council of regency. All seemed set fair for the prosperity of the gospel. At his coronation, observing the three swords of State carried before him, the young king called for another—the Bible, the sword of the Spirit — saying, “He that rules without it is not to be called God’s minister or a king.” The Bible was brought and carried reverently in the procession.

A commission was appointed, within a month, to report on the moral and spiritual condition of the clergy and people throughout the land. In spite of Romish protests, a book of homilies was printed and circulated in which, among other doctrines, justification by faith was clearly set forth. These were appointed to be read from the pulpit in every church. An order was also issued for the removal of images from the churches. Then appeared Cranmer’s catechism. A still further advance followed. “Ye are a priesthood,” said Cranmer to the people, “and must worship with your own hearts and voices.” The mass was changed into a communion service and was to be held in English, not Latin. A prayer book and liturgy were compiled. In the Romish Church, hitherto, there had been no real singing. Chants, dirges and wails in Latin and in which the people rarely took part — a mechanical and heartless religious form — had for long replaced the worship of God in spirit and in truth. The Lollards had been marked by singing as their name implies, as well as the Huguenots, and a revival of sacred song accompanied the Reformation in Germany. Now singing by the people in their own tongue became an authorized practice. At first it was the Psalms which were converted to metrical form for the purpose. It was at this time that the thirty-nine articles of the Church of England originated. Forty-two in number when first published in 1552, they were reduced to thirty-nine in 1562.

The papists plotted against the Protector who had faithfully served both the King and the Reformation. The Duke of Northumberland accused him of a design to instigate a rebellion. He was tried and condemned. The young king, still in his teens, signed his death warrant with tears in his eyes. The Earl was executed in January 1552. At this time arose the objection to vestments and other ceremonial forms in which Bishop Hooper was prominent.

Edward VI died in 1553, being about sixteen years of age. Darkness was once again to descend on England, and many faithful were to be tried in the fire and become victorious. Queen Mary at first hid her real intentions and promised toleration for all, but once firmly on the throne, she appeared in her true colors. The country was again made subservient to the Pope, whose legate was received at the court. All the reforms of Edward’s reign were reversed as quickly as possible. Now began a fierce persecution. To terrify the population, the burnings of heretics were spread over the kingdom. John Rogers, prebend of St. Paul’s, was the first to go to the stake. On his way to the stake, he was met by his wife and eleven children, one still an infant in arms. His crime was that he had persisted in preaching the gospel. Who can say what it cost him to leave his wife and family and suffer the cruel agony of death by fire? Just before the fire was lighted, a pardon was offered him if he would recant. Having declined this, the fire was lighted; he endured the torments with invincible faith and died with his hands uplifted to heaven.

Laurence Saunders was sent to the town of Coventry in which he had labored. On reaching the stake, he embraced it with the words: “Welcome the cross of Christ; welcome the life everlasting!” Hooper, Bishop of Gloucester, followed. It was market day in Gloucester. A crowd of seven thousand gathered. As he arrived at the stake, a box was placed before him, containing a pardon if he would recant. But he would not buy his life at such a cost. The fire burned slowly. It was a long and painful death, awful to behold. Finally his spirit was released from his tortured body. His dying words, like the first of the martyrs, were, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Dr. Taylor, one of Cranmer’s chaplains, was burned at Hadleigh, Suffolk. Ferrar, Bishop of St. David’s, suffered in the same way at Carmarthen.

“All over England, from the eastern counties to Wales on the west and from the midland shires to the shores of the English Channel, blazed these baleful fires. Both sexes and all ages and conditions — the boy of eight and the man of eighty — the halt and the blind — were dragged to the stake and burned, sometimes singly and at other times in dozens.”

Among these martyrdoms three stand out, well-known to all acquainted with English history — those of Ridley, Latimer and Cranmer. Ridley and Latimer were bound to one stake at Oxford, at a spot near Balliol College. As the fire was lighted, Latimer addressed those historic words to his companion: “Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man. We shall this day light such a candle by God’s grace in England as, I trust, shall never be put out.” Latimer, who was 85 years old, soon expired. Ridley’s sufferings were more prolonged.

Cranmer was reserved to the following year. The papists succeeded in extracting from him a recantation. On March 21, 1556, he was led out of prison. In spite of his recantation, which he was to make in public, the stake and the wood were waiting. He was exhorted to make a public confession. “I will do it,” he said. Thereupon he declared his abhorrence of Romish doctrines and his steadfast adherence to the faith of the gospel. Then he revoked his recantation, adding, “Forasmuch as my hand offended, writing contrary to my heart, my hand shall first be punished therefore: for may I come to the fire, it shall be first burned.” As he had said, so he did. He remained unmoved in the fire, uttering, as so many of his fellow-martyrs had done, those words of faith, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.”

Between 1555, when the first of these fires was lighted, and 1558, when five martyrs were burned in one fire at Canterbury, only two days before Mary’s death, 280 persons were sent to the stake. In addition, many died in prison or under torture or by starvation. The people of England were sickened by this horrible cruelty, and it was with undisguised relief that the news of Mary’s death was received on November 17, 1558, and Elizabeth proclaimed queen. Once again, the Pope’s authority was abolished, and the Protestant form of worship was restored. The first Book of Homilies, published in the reign of Edward VI, was reissued, and the second, hitherto unpublished, was added. These homilies had been prepared by Cranmer, Latimer and others. To this was added the Apology of Jewell and his Defence. Jewell himself and many of the exiled preachers returned. The Marian bishops resigned and took pensions. They were not hurried to the stake or imprisoned as Cranmer, Latimer, Ridley and others had been in the late queen’s reign. Of the ninety-four hundred parochial clergy, only about eighty resigned. The rest just conformed. These were, of course, a source of weakness, as many were Romanists at heart. But the gospel was now free, and the Word of God, which alone is effective to turn men from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, was now free.

Rome’s reaction was delayed for some years, but at last in 1570 the Pope issued his bull in which he declared Queen Elizabeth to be deprived of her pretended title to the kingdom and commanded all her subjects to withdraw their allegiance from her, while he struck with anathema all who did not do so. The Pope thus declared war on the Queen of England and called upon her subjects to rebel. Assassins entered the country to remove, if possible, those who stood in the way. A plot was hatched in 1586 to assassinate the queen, to start an insurrection, and to set Mary Stuart on the throne. While political affairs do not directly concern this history, these facts show the true character of Rome. It has often been said that Roman Catholics suffered as martyrs in Elizabeth’s reign. The fact is they suffered for treason. Men such as Gardiner and Bonner, who were mainly responsible for the burning of the martyrs in Mary’s reign, lived unmolested all their days.

Among the decrees of the Council of Trent was one which enjoined upon all Catholic princes the destruction of Protestantism. Philip II of Spain, whose terrible persecutions had decimated the Netherlands, now planned to bring England again under the papal yoke and add it to his wide dominions. The vast Armada he had prepared at untold cost for this bold enterprise set sail in May 1588. Forces under the Duke of Parma in Holland were to cooperate. By all human calculations Britain was doomed. But there is hardly an event in history which more clearly signalizes the overruling of divine providence than the destruction of the invincible Armada. Disappointed by the non-arrival of Parma’s force, disorganized and damaged by the English fireships let loose in the Straits of Dover, and harried by the small British ships, the Armada sailed northward and, driven before the storms, was battered to pieces on the rocks of the Scottish and Irish coasts. Only a forlorn remnant returned to Spain. Those who lived in those days, not only in England but in other lands, saw in it a deliverance no less notable than the destruction of Pharaoh’s hosts in the Red Sea. Had the invasion succeeded, the dark night of papal dominion would have fallen once again upon Europe.

Chapter 28

We read in the first chapter of Genesis that before the light dawned on the dark and empty earth, the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. There is a remarkable parallel in the case of Christendom at the beginning of the sixteenth century. Deep darkness prevailed, when suddenly, not in one, but in almost all the countries of Christendom the light began to shine. It was a universal work of the Spirit of God. When we turn our attention to the work in Switzerland at this epoch, we find that ere Luther was heard of publicly, Ulric Zwingli had already begun to preach salvation in Christ alone.

Zwingli was born at Wildhaus, a village in the valley of Tockenburg on New Year’s Day, 1484, the third of a family of eight sons. He was only a few weeks younger than Luther. His father was bailiff of the parish and desired to give him an education suited to his talents. When about nine years of age, he was sent to Wesen and then to Basle. Making rapid progress in his studies, he was sent to Berne. An attempt having been made by the friars to lure him into a monastery, he was called home, but the love of learning was kindled in him, and he was given the opportunity of further study in Vienna. Other men, whose light was later to shine in the great movement soon to begin, were having their eyes opened in these days. In 1512 Capito, curé of the cathedral church of Basle, expounding the Epistle to the Romans to his hearers, began to see the truth for himself. Oecolampadius had gone to Stuttgart in 1514 to study Greek and Hebrew under the famous Reuchlin and helped Erasmus in his translation from the Greek. At Basle, Zwingli had come under the teaching of Thomas Wittembach. Skilled in the original tongues of the Bible, he had drawn direct from the fountain of truth. He was accustomed to say, “The time is not far distant when the scholastic theology will be abolished and the ancient doctrine of the Church restored. The death of Christ is the only ransom for our souls.” A fellow-pupil of Zwingli’s at this time was Leo Juda, who was also to play his part in the coming revival. Thus was God preparing the way. When but twenty-two years of age, Zwingli became Pastor of Glarus, a village near to his own. His parish covered a third of the canton.

The warrior Pope Julius II was fighting against the King of France and the men of Glarus had been enlisted in the papal army. Young Zwingli went with them as chaplain. His eyes were opened to the vices of Italy and the evils of the papal system. On his return, he devoted himself to the study of the Scriptures. “When,” he said later, “I began to give myself wholly up to the Holy Scriptures, philosophy and theology would always keep suggesting quarrels to me. At last I came to this, ‘Thou must let all that lie and learn the meaning of God purely out of His own simple Word.’ Then I began to ask God for His light, and the Scriptures began to be much easier to me, although I am but lazy.” While he used commentaries, he did not admit that any man or any body of men had any exclusive ability to interpret Scripture or authoritatively explain it. The Spirit who inspired it, he claimed, would reveal its meaning to each earnest and prayerful reader. Thus was a solid foundation laid in Zwingli’s soul. The great truth which Luther learned and taught was justification by faith; the cardinal principle which Zwingli embraced and insisted on was the sole authority of the Word of God.

In 1516 Zwingli was invited to become preacher in the Convent of Einsiedeln. Its abbot was not in favor of the superstitions of the Church and had actually discontinued the celebration of the mass. Yet the Convent of Einsiedeln was the most famous in all Switzerland and Upper Germany and a great resort of pilgrims, for it possessed an image of the Virgin which was reputed to work miracles. Over the portal was a sign indicating that “Plenary Indulgences” were to be “obtained within.” Zwingli looked with compassion on the superstitious multitudes who came, many from distant places. He boldly proclaimed the folly of it all. He preached the gospel. He spoke to them of Christ crucified, of the full and eternal efficacy of His sacrifice, and that through Him pardon is offered without money and without price. Some were offended to think that their journey and trouble was useless and vain, but others listened eagerly and drank the water of life. Thus a stronghold of superstition became a center of the gospel. The crowds began to vanish and the shrine began to be forsaken, much to Zwingli’s joy. He was permitted to serve the cause of truth in that place for three years.

In January 1519, he became preacher in the Cathedral of Zurich and began to read and expound the Gospel of Matthew. Numerous and eager audiences listened to him telling of a “free salvation.” All Switzerland was affected. “Glory be to God!” the listeners were heard to say. “This man is a preacher of the truth. He will be our Moses to lead us forth from this Egyptian darkness.”

Samson, one of the Pope’s pardonmongers, was on the way to Zurich. Zwingli preached so effectively against the scandalous sale of pardons for money that Samson found the city unwilling to receive him and he went ignominiously away, without selling a single pardon.

In the late summer of 1519 the Plague visited Zurich. Zwingli was constantly at the bedsides of the sick and dying. At last he too was stricken. Himself now at the point of death, he proved the solid worth of the gospel he had preached. In these solemn moments, he penned the following poignant verses, which remain a living testimony to the faith of his soul.

Lo, at the door
I hear Death’s knock;
Shield me, O Lord,
My strength and rock

.
The hand once nailed
Upon the tree:
Jesus, uplift
And shelter me.

Willest Thou, then,
Death conquer me
In my noonday? ...
So let it be!

Oh, may I die,
Since I am Thine;
Thy home is made
For faith like mine.

Zwingli recovered. God had much work for His servant, yet his experience had had a purifying effect; his preaching became deeper and more effectual. The large cathedral could not hold the would-be listeners, yet all this while he continued to practice the rites of the Church, even the mass. His aim was positive, not negative: to preach the truth, not to overthrow the existing order. The truth, he felt, would inevitably displace error when it had found its place in men’s hearts.

Meanwhile, others were laboring elsewhere. Capito and Hedio were preaching the gospel at Basle. From that city Luther’s writings were now issuing from the press and finding their way into England, France, Spain and Italy. Myconius was laboring, though on more barren soil, at Lucerne. Meyer and Haller and Kolb were sowing the good seed in Berne. The Lord of the harvest was now sending other laborers into His fields. Within the short space of ten years a large part of Switzerland had been won for the gospel. The images were removed and the worship of God cleansed from Romish rites. Audiences sometimes became too great for the churches to hold. The people assembled to listen to the preacher and sing the psalms in the fields and meadows. Luther’s German translation of the New Testament was introduced into Switzerland in 1522 and Zwingli himself wrote:

“Every peasant’s cottage became a school in which the highest art of all was practiced, the reading of the Old and New Testament, for the right and true schoolmaster of His people is God, without whom all languages and all arts are but nets of deception and treachery. Every cow and goose herd became thereby better instructed in the knowledge of salvation than the schoolmen.”

But the five forest cantons did not share in this blessed revival. Not only did they cling to the superstitions of Rome, but they became opponents and persecutors of those who had embraced the gospel.

As in other countries at this time, the secular power mingled in the work of reform. This is the fundamental weakness of the Reformation period. Switzerland — a federation of little self-governing communities — was now divided. The five forest cantons, Lucerne, Zug, Schwytz, Uri and Unterwalden, made a compact with Austria against the reformed cantons, thus infringing the constitution of the Federal Republic. Zurich unwisely attempted to boycott the forest cantons. Civil war ensued. At the battle of Cappel in 1531, the small force of Zurichers was overwhelmed. Zwingli, who had accompanied the troops as chaplain, and twenty-five other pastors lost their lives. There was another battle at Zug in which Zurich was again defeated. Rome was exultant; Te Deums were sung in the papal city and in Catholic countries. The mass was restored, but the gospel had by now so strong a hold on the hearts of the people that it could not be eradicated. A compromise was effected and toleration for both parties was agreed upon. From this time forward, the progress of the gospel in Switzerland was slow and silent.

What Zwingli was to German Switzerland, Farel became to French-speaking Switzerland. Arriving in 1526 at Aigle, he began to evangelize this beautiful but benighted land. He began as a schoolmaster, sowing the seed of the gospel along with secular instruction. Later he began to preach openly. God was with him. One place after another received the gospel.

In Neuchatel the victory was commemorated by an inscription on a pillar of the cathedral which ran: “On October 23, 1530, idolatry was overthrown and removed from this church by the citizens.” Opposition and persecution dogged his steps, but he was preserved and supported in a wonderful way. He often had before him the conquest of Geneva for the gospel. Geneva was a stronghold of Rome, and when Farel finally entered it and proclaimed the glad tidings of free salvation, he was treated like the first preachers of the gospel and barely escaped with his life. However, he induced a young man named Froment to go there. Froment did as Farel had done elsewhere: He started a school. Beginning with the children, he soon had a class of adults who came to hear the gospel. Wonderful success attended his efforts. God was evidently working. Those who were converted drew together and formed a little band of believers. He was urged to preach in the Market Square. This took place on New Year’s Day, 1533. Froment was now driven out of the city, but the work proceeded. The seed had been sown and was producing a wonderful harvest. Believers met in secret and partook of the Lord’s supper in its pristine simplicity. A plot was hatched to massacre every Protestant in Geneva. Being warned, these stood for their lives, armed and ready to repulse their would-be murderers. By a wonderful intervention of Providence, some merchants from Fribourg sojourning in the city succeeded in making peace, but it was for a time only. However, the hand of God seemed over the flock in Geneva, and once again the dangers were averted. The gospel was rapidly gaining the hearts of the people. At this juncture, Farel returned with Froment and Viret. Attacks now came from without, and the city had to face a siege by partisans of Rome. The citizens destroyed the suburbs to strengthen the ramparts. On August 27, 1535, the city council issued an edict enjoining that public worship was henceforth to be conducted according to the rule of the gospel. Geneva was now a Protestant city. On May 21 in the following year, an extraordinary event took place. The whole body of the citizens, led by their magistrates and ministers, took an oath to renounce the doctrines of Rome and live according to the teaching of the gospel. Laws were made prohibiting gambling, blasphemy, dances, lascivious songs and masquerades. All were to be in their homes by nine o’clock at night. Sunday was to be a day of rest.

In August that year Calvin entered Geneva. Some account must be given of this remarkable man, who influenced not only Geneva, but left his mark on the whole of Christendom. Calvin was a Frenchman, born at Noyon in 1509. From his youth he was marked by a serious turn of mind and upright life and devoted to the Romish religion. While studying in Paris, he was influenced by his cousin Olivetan, who was a disciple of Lefevre’s. They had many a heated discussion as to the truth, which left their impress on Calvin’s young mind. One day he witnessed the burning of a martyr and was much affected by the calm way in which he faced his cruel death. He was led to read the Scriptures. The light of Christ’s atoning death broke into his soul. A bitter conflict took place in his soul, for the authority of the Romish Church held him, as so many others, in its terrible bondage. But his chains were broken, and he left in heart the Church of Rome for the Church of the Bible. This was in 1527. Hitherto his studies had an ecclesiastical career in view. His plans were now changed, and he decided to study law, a course which led him first to Orleans, then to Bourges. Bourges was in the domain of the Queen of Navarre, a protector of those who held the faith of the gospel. Here he abandoned law to preach the truth. Returning to Noyon on the death of his father, he passed through Paris. He was in the city on the day when Berquin, one of the first noblemen of France, was burned at the stake. Berquin was a humble Christian and a zealous evangelist. About this time, the Queen of Navarre had opened the doors of the Palace of the Louvre for gospel preachings, a proceeding which the King condoned, as he was at this time disposed to curry the favor of the Reformation party in Germany for political reasons. Many at this time were looking for a great gospel victory in France. In 1533 Cop, the rector of the University, was persuaded by Calvin to read for his inaugural address a paper which he (Calvin) had composed. It was evangelical in its substance, though academic in its form. The papists quickly saw the implications, and a storm arose. Both the rector and Calvin had to flee for their lives. Calvin was in his room when the officers arrived to arrest him. He was hastily let down by friends through the window and escaped by the skin of his teeth. Leaving Paris in the disguise of a laborer, he escaped to Angouleme, where he found refuge with a nobleman of his acquaintance. There, after resting for six months, he departed for Poitiers. In that city he quietly spread the gospel and gathered around him, more or less in secret, a company of converts. They even took the Lord’s supper together in a cave, subsequently known as Calvin’s grotto. When he quitted Poitiers to return home on the death of his father, he left a little congregation of believers behind him, meeting according to scriptural principles. He greatly desired to further the gospel in the capital and he went once more to Paris, arriving at a time when the King was trying to bring about a union of the Reformed and Roman Churches.

Before long, however, he left Paris for Strasbourg. It was well he did, for the storm over the placards burst out almost immediately, and many Christians lost their lives in the awful persecutions which followed. Calvin was in Basle when the news reached him. Now, at twenty-seven years of age, he sat down and wrote his Institutes. The first edition only contained six chapters, but it was enlarged in the following twenty-four years. A clear, logical setting out of Christian doctrine, nothing like it had been attempted before. It spread rapidly among all classes and became in itself a powerful preacher. The value of a clear exposition of Christian faith, after ages of Romish darkness and superstition, can hardly be realized in our more enlightened times. He retired at this juncture into a temporary oblivion, finding a refuge at the court of the Duchess of Ferrara who was a friend of the gospel. His next move, after a short space, was to Geneva. This city, which was destined to become a sort of capital of the Reformation movement, had had a romantic history. After the break-up of Charlemagne’s empire, it was for a long time an independent city. At the beginning of the sixteenth century it was about to be absorbed by the Duke of Savoy. Suffice it to say that it retained, with the help of other Swiss cities, its independence. Now came another phase in its history with the arrival of the gospel, to which we have already referred, its acceptance by the citizens, and the overthrow of the Romish form of worship.

In August 1536 Calvin arrived in Geneva unannounced. His presence was quickly revealed. Farel urged him — even adjured him — to stay and work in the city. Though reluctant at first, he was persuaded and threw himself wholeheartedly into the work. The remarkable, peaceful revolution in favor of the gospel had just taken place. Calvin helped Farel to draw up a confession of faith which all the citizens swore to individually. This took place in November 1536. It must be borne in mind that Geneva was an independent, self-governing community, all the citizens, in fact, having a part in its government. Of their own will, the people of Geneva set up a theocracy on Old Testament lines. God was regarded as its Head and the Bible its code. The plan, however, was Calvin’s. Church and Government were allied, but the Church was self-governing. He modeled his church order on the New Testament, in which he saw the two offices of elders and deacons, but from among the elders there were elected pastors and teachers. In this, both the magistrates and the people had a voice. A consistory of ministers and laymen watched over the morals of the members, and those who remained obdurate after rebuke were excommunicated. But all the twenty thousand inhabitants were not truly converted persons, though doubtless a big proportion were. The worldly element rebelled at the strictness of life enjoined upon them and finally succeeded in getting Calvin banished from the city. Disorder and licentiousness, however, grew, and after two years the people of Geneva begged Calvin to return.

Having undertaken the onerous task of caring for the spiritual welfare of Geneva, Calvin spared himself no labor. He preached, he taught, he visited, he wrote treatises, and he conducted an immense correspondence. He arranged that every family should be visited at least once a year. The poor, too, were cared for. Under his influence, Geneva flourished and became, in a way, the metropolis of the Reformation. Thither fled persecuted Christians from many lands, and there they were succored. Popes and princes would have fain wiped the city off the face of the earth, but divine providence protected it, and it remained an oasis in the European desert during those dark days when the movement in Germany had undergone an eclipse, and the league of Protestant princes having been defeated, Romanism was, for a time, largely restored in Luther’s homeland. The little city prospered materially by the diligence and piety of its people and became, too, a center of learning and culture.

Calvin was, however, continually opposed and even persecuted by the worldly element in the city. They complained of too many sermons and too many religious books. Yet amid it all, Calvin went on his way. He lived simply, even poorly, and died a poor man, for he served God, not mammon. During the last years of his life, he toiled on amid much physical suffering. In the year 1564, on May 27, Calvin fell asleep. Over his grave no monument was raised, and its exact location is in doubt. In a short life of less than fifty-five years, he accomplished labors that might have occupied several normal lifetimes. In some things doubtless he erred or fell short, for what servant is there who is perfect? But the whole bent and tenor of his life was an utterly selfless devotion to what he believed to be the will of God. The Master of the servants will, in a coming day, put His own assessment on his life and labors and grant him his due reward.

Chapter 29

The entrance of the truth into Sweden was rapid and effected without bloodshed. Gustavus Vasa, who became king in 1523, had imbibed the teachings of Luther and strove to establish the Reformation in his kingdom. Two brothers named Petri, who had been students at Wittenberg, preached the gospel with great success. In 1526, the New Testament was published in Sweden by the King’s orders. A debate between one of the Petris and a popish doctor named Galle was published, and many conversions resulted among both the priests and the people. A meeting of the States of the Realm was held, and, in spite of Romish opposition, estates which the Church had obtained by working on the superstitious fears of the wealthy were restored to their owners. The Church revenues were placed at the King’s disposal. Bishops were forbidden to interfere in the affairs of State. The appointment of preachers was placed in the authority of the King, subject to the proviso that only those who were able and willing to preach according to the Word of God should be appointed. The daily reading of the Scriptures was ordered in all schools, and the clergy were made amenable to the civil law. Two years later the authority of the Pope was set aside, and the reformed manner of worship was established. In Norway, matters took a similar course.

The Reformation in Denmark was precipitated by the evil traffic in indulgences. The gospel cause had the support of the King Christian II. A long struggle with the hierarchy ensued. The King was deposed, but his successor Frederick was equally favorable. An able preacher named Taussen proclaimed the truth of justification by faith. When imprisoned, he preached through the bars of his prison. The King heard of it, had him set free, and made him his chaplain. Shut out of the Church, he preached in the churchyard, where he was listened to by eager crowds. In 1524 King Christian, now an exile, got his secretary to translate the New Testament into Danish, and copies were sent by shiploads from Antwerp to Denmark.

In 1527 a conference was held at Odense. The King urged religious freedom. Full liberty of worship was decreed, and the bishop was forbidden to recognize the Pope.

The island of Fuenen was speedily evangelized. On the death of Frederick in 1533, an unsuccessful attempt was made to restore popery. The intrigues of the bishops resulted, in 1535, in civil war, but the King, Christian III, was victorious. At a Diet at Copenhagen in 1536, the Romish Church was disestablished, and the Reformation was completed by the Diet of Odense in 1539.

Chapter 30

The Netherlands, comprising what is now known as Holland and Belgium, were, in the Middle Ages, a collection of small semi-independent states which came gradually under the rule of Austria and finally became part of the great empire of Charles V, who came to the throne at the time the Reformation began. Unlike Germany, which was controlled by the electors, the Netherlands were entirely under the power of Charles. For this reason, the gospel revival had to make its way against the most bitter opposition. It has been estimated that during the last thirty years of his reign, fifty thousand persons were put to death for their faith, while in the reign of his successor, Philip II of Spain, one of the most relentless, perfidious and cruelest persecutors that ever ruled over man, many thousands more were beheaded, hanged, buried alive, burned alive or otherwise put to death, while a vast multitude perished miserably in the bitter conflicts, sieges and massacres that were the outcome of his tyranny, and many thousands more fled as refugees to other lands. England, in the reign of Elizabeth, became a city of refuge to these outcasts who, in many cases, brought their arts and crafts to its hospitable shores.

In earlier days, John Wesselus of Groningen had let his light, dim though it was, shine in Holland. Waldensian refugees had found their way into the Netherlands with their Romance version of the Scriptures. Tyndale’s English New Testament was printed there in 1525.

Owing to its close proximity to Germany, the country quickly received the illumination of Luther’s testimony. The Augustinian monastery in Antwerp was so permeated with Luther’s teaching that in 1532 the authorities razed it to the ground. In 1519 its Prior, named Spreng, was converted and became a preacher of the gospel, but under threat of death, he recanted; however, he went to Bremen and renewed his preaching. In 1523 three of the monks perished at the stake. Henry Zutphen, who had also received Luther’s teaching, was thrown into prison, but a sympathetic crowd of townspeople broke open the prison and set him free — a significant indication of the favor with which the gospel was received. Having made his escape, he preached elsewhere, but was murdered by a mob in Holstein.

Crowds gathered to hear the preaching of the gospel, but a price was set on the heads of the preachers. One day a huge crowd had assembled in a shipyard. No preacher having appeared, a youth named Nicholas went forward and spoke to the people on the Lord’s feeding of the five thousand. He was seized by the monks and, with the aid of two butchers, forced into a sack and drowned in the river.

The Emperor now began to act. Placards were constantly issued threatening those who taught or received the Word of God, but neither threats nor burnings stayed the progress of the truth. Believers multiplied. In 1524 the printing of books was made subject to strict censorship, and when about this time Luther’s Bible was translated into Dutch, the printer was beheaded. Edict followed edict. In 1535 the most desperate measures were enacted to stem the tide of the so-called heresy, and in 1540 these measures were again renewed. Even recantation no longer saved the life of an accused heretic. It merely changed his mode of death. Instead of being burned alive, repentant heretics were allowed to die by the sword (if they were men) or by being buried alive (if they were women). In spite of all, the gospel spread in Flanders, Brabant and Holland. Notwithstanding the vicious edicts of the Emperor, conventicles continued to be held in Antwerp.

The first martyr in Holland was John de Bakker of Woerden, near Utrecht, a priest, twenty-seven years of age. He made a bold and intelligent defense of the truth at his trial. On September 15, 1525, he was led to the stake. On his way, he passed the prison in which other believers were held and exhorted them to have good courage. The prisoners answered by shouts of joy, clapping of hands and the singing of hymns. At the stake, he cried, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” His last words were, “Lord Jesus, forgive them, for they know not what they do. O Son of God, remember me and have mercy upon me.”

Many more were to follow the path of suffering to glory in the next thirty years of Charles’ reign. In 1555 he laid aside his imperial crown to be succeeded by a son more cruel and bigoted than himself. Mary of Hungary became regent of the Netherlands, and the agents of Rome saw to it that the faithful were discovered. In the first few years of Philip’s reign there was a little respite; martyrdoms did not cease, but less blood flowed. But in 1559 the horrible edict of 1540 was revived. A court corresponding to the Inquisition was set up. Even Spain had been revolted by the horrors of the Inquisition; to the liberty-loving people of the Netherlands, it was insupportable.

“The citizens beheld, in a long and terrible vista, calamity coming upon calamity — their dwellings entered at midnight by masked familiars, their parents and children dragged to secret prisons, their civic dignitaries led through the streets with halters around their necks, the foreign, Protestant merchants fleeing from their country, their commerce dying, autos-da-fé blazing in their cities, and liberty, in the end of the day, sinking under an odious and merciless tyranny. It was death to pray to God in one’s own closet; it was death not to bow when an image was carried past one in the street; it was death to copy a hymn from a Genevese Psalter or sing a psalm; it was death not to deny the heresy of which one was suspected, when one was questioned, although one had never uttered it.”

To sustain these measures and intimidate the inhabitants, Philip kept a small but highly trained army of Spanish soldiers in the land. But the fortitude of the martyrs matched the fury of their persecutors. Wives accompanied their husbands to the stake, standing by to encourage them. Young women lay down peacefully in their living graves or went to the scaffold or the stake dressed as if to their marriage rather than to a cruel death. The same divine grace that bore the earliest martyrs in triumph through the cruelties of a heathen persecution now sustained with superhuman peace and strength these men and women, young and old, in the frightful torments inflicted by a so-called Christian Church. If Satan had captured Christendom and made the Romish Church the wretched tool of his relentless hatred of Christ, the Spirit of the glorified Saviour carried these saints of the sixteenth century in triumph through prison and torture chamber and through the horrors of cruel deaths into the glorious presence of Him who had died for them. Now they were yielding their own lives in faithfulness to Him. “O God, Eternal Father,” cried one youth at the stake, suffering alongside his father after the flesh, “accept the sacrifice of our lives in the name of Thy beloved Son.”

Year after year the dreadful work continued, and to the long roll of martyrs were added thousands of names, recorded in heaven but not on earth, people mostly in humble stations of life—weavers, tapestry workers, tanners, stone cutters and such like — but they belonged to a higher nobility than this world knows, a family more royal than that of any who ever sat upon an earthly throne. Did faith fail in the Netherlands? Far from it. In 1561 the Protestants of the Netherlands boldly put forth a Confession of Faith. It was entitled “A Confession of Faith generally and unanimously maintained by the believers dispersed through the Low Countries who desire to live according to the purity of the holy gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.” This was not the product of any church; it was the confession of a few, private believers and preachers issued originally for mutual help and encouragement. Five years later, a Synod of the Christians who were thus united sent their Confession to the King of Spain with a pathetic appeal for liberty of conscience and freedom from persecution. There were, they informed the King, over one hundred thousand who held the faith set forth in this Confession, which they sent, likewise, to the magistrates and rulers of the provinces.

The Prince of Orange (William the Silent), who had not yet abjured the Romish teaching, strenuously urged toleration in the councils of the government. This was in 1564. The King of Spain assembled a council of ecclesiastics, and even they counseled milder measures to avert rebellion. It was without effect; Philip was obdurate; he handed the people of the Netherlands over to the Inquisition. The trial and punishment of heretics was placed entirely in the hands of the Romish clergy. The anger of a nation deprived of its elementary rights now reached boiling point. The regent, the Duchess of Parma, was at her wit’s end. The more violent the methods of suppression, the more heresy abounded and the more the temper of the people rose. She wrote to her brother pointing out the danger and difficulty of the position. But he would brook no alleviation of the situation. To avoid publicity, the executions were carried out by drowning the prisoners secretly in prison in water butts.

Rumors got abroad of an awful plan to massacre Protestants on a wholesale scale. Such an idea had been intimated to William of Orange by Henry II of France some years before, and by reason of the fact that he kept this awful secret to himself, he was named William the Silent. But he paid heed to the warning and shaped his course accordingly.

For long years many thousands had yielded up their lives without resistance and died as defenseless sheep of Christ’s flock. Now the tide began to turn. Oppression stirred many, whose motives were not actuated purely by the gospel, to oppose this tyranny. A league of nobles was formed who raised the standard of revolt. About the same time another movement began. Protestants resolved to meet in spite of all opposition. At the peril of their lives, huge concourses of people met together to hear the gospel preached. It began in June 1566, near Ghent, when Herman Modet preached to seven thousand. On July 23 a vast and peaceful assembly again met to listen to the Word of God. Many of these had come armed in self-protection and stayed two days on the ground. The movement spread like a fire. The numbers were so great that the authorities feared to apprehend the people. Great congregations numbering as many as ten thousand — and in one case it is said twenty thousand — began to assemble all over the Netherlands. In a few weeks, the movement had covered the whole country. These great crowds came together not to ventilate their wrongs or denounce the government but to hear the Word of Life. “The wind bloweth where it listeth” (John 3:8), and when the wind of God blows, its power is irresistible. So far the movement was a peaceful one, for it was the gospel of peace which was sounded forth, and not the tocsin of revolt. Every preacher preached with a price on his head, and those who listened did so at the peril of their lives, for the Inquisition did not slumber.

About this time a band of ruffians, who seem in no way to have been connected with this gospel movement and whose actions were reprobated by all true Christians, began to scour the land, plundering the Roman Catholic churches, mutilating the treasures of art with which they were adorned, and smashing the images. These iconoclasts confined their attention to the sticks and stones of Romish idolatry; to the priests and monks they offered no violence.

A long night of horror now passed over the land. William of Orange left the country. He foresaw what was coming. The meetings were suppressed by force, the preachers were driven away, and “the gallows,” says the historian Brandt, “were filled with carcasses and Germany with exiles.” The cup of woe was not yet full. The Duke of Alva was sent into the country with an army of ten thousand men. A “Holy War” was begun. Twelve thousand of the inhabitants fled the country. Many of those who remained were arrested. Alva set up the council which has come to be known in history as the “Council of Blood,” and this began its hateful work. Persons of every age and sex and condition of life were imprisoned, and many were put on the rack. It was sufficient to condemn a person to death (whatever his belief) that he had attended a meeting of the Reformed. Death reaped an enormous harvest by the stake and the gallows and the axe. Thousands were banished and their goods confiscated. Even this was not enough for Philip. He submitted the matter to the Fathers of the Spanish Inquisition and sought their advice. It was given. The whole nation were heretics or abettors of heretics and guilty of high treason. On February 26, 1568, the King of Spain passed sentence on the entire nation of the Netherlands and condemned the inhabitants to extinction. Everyone — men, women and children—were now to be put to death. The horrible work was actually begun, and the country became a charnel house. A nation condemned to die has little to lose by resisting. It found a leader in William the Silent, Prince of Orange. A long and awful struggle followed. Battles, sieges, massacres, hunger, misery and desolation were the lot of this sorely tried land. For our purpose it is sufficient to record that it ended in the formation of the United Provinces and, finally, in the throwing off of the Spanish yoke forever. Religious toleration became general, and while Holland remained true to the cause of the Reformation, the Southern Provinces (now Belgium) returned to the Romish religion.

Philip had offered a huge reward to anyone who procured the death of his enemy, William of Orange. Six attempts were made on his life, the last successful. He fell, shot through the body by an assassin, in 1584, and was mourned as a father by the people of the Netherlands. “By their fruits ye shall know them” (Matt. 7:16 JND); all these horrors, which have been understated in this brief review, were the awful fruit of a false religion which inspired men to hate and murder and torture and burn those who dissented from its idolatrous tenets.

Nations, like men, reap what they sow. Holland rose to prosperity; Spain sunk lower and lower till she became poor and of little account among the nations.

Chapter 31

Though Christianity had entered Scotland in the sixth century, Romanism did not dominate it till the twelfth, when it was introduced, together with all its paraphernalia, by the reigning monarch who imported large numbers of foreign ecclesiastics to fill its numerous offices. Battening on that comparatively poor land, it soon owned half its wealth, and the ecclesiastical dignitaries were the virtual rulers of the land.

But even in those dark days there were those who held a purer faith. A disciple of Wycliffe was burned at Perth about the year 1406. The Lollards were sufficiently numerous in Scotland in the fifteenth century to cause the appointment of an inquisitor. In 1431 another martyr perished at the stake, a Bohemian and a follower of Huss named Crawar. In 1494 thirty Lollards were summoned for heresy at Glasgow. These were persons of rank, and it does not appear they were punished. The circumstance shows, however, that the teachings of Wycliffe continued to find adherents right up to Reformation times.

Luther’s writings reached Scotland, as they did so many other lands, while Tyndale’s New Testament was also circulated. Thus the printed word — and particularly the Word of God — was the first missionary of the revived gospel in Scotland.

A young man, Patrick Hamilton, of the illustrious family of that name was the first to unfurl the gospel banner in the sixteenth century. Born in 1504, educated at St. Andrews University and at Paris, he found his way to Marburg where he came in touch with Francis Lambert, the ex-monk of Avignon, who was now playing an important part in the Reformation in Germany. On his return to Scotland in 1527, he spread the truth, first among his kinsfolk and friends, and then more and more publicly at the Church of St. Michael at Linlithgow, which was then the seat of the court. His preaching thus reached high and low. Cardinal Beaton sent for him, ostensibly to discuss the subject of the reform of the Church. He received him graciously, but it was to lure him to death. In due course he was arraigned before an ecclesiastical court. Among the heresies of which he was accused was, “That a man is not justified by works but by faith alone.” Efforts to rescue him from the power of the cardinal failed; his condemnation and execution were hastened. In February 1528, he was taken to the stake. As he ascended the pile, he said, “In the name of Jesus, I give up my body to the fire and commit my soul into the hands of the Father.” The wood was not dry, and the noble martyr’s sufferings were prolonged for six hours. At the end, when half his body was already destroyed by the flames, he cried, “How long, O Lord, shall darkness overwhelm this realm? How long wilt Thou suffer this tyranny of men? Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.”

His career as a preacher was short indeed, but his words and his sufferings, his noble example and faithfulness unto death kindled a flame that was never quenched. Henry Forrest, a monk of Linlithgow, who had received the light from Patrick Hamilton, died by the fire in 1532. David Straiton, a gentleman who had quarreled with the Prior of St. Andrews over the tithes, was strangely enough led by this very event to discover the truth. The Prior had accused him of heresy. He did not even know what the word “heresy” meant, and, unable to read, he asked a nephew to read the New Testament to him. His eyes were opened; his soul was saved. His change of life brought him under suspicion. He was accused of heresy and condemned to be burned alive. His companion at the stake was a converted priest, Norman Gourlay. They were burned on the high ground between Edinburgh and Leith. Their trial took place in the presence of the King. In 1538 five more persons were burned on Castle Hill, Edinburgh. Persecution waxed hotter and many fled the country, but many others, mostly persons of the poorer class who could not escape, had to face death by hanging or burning. In 1543 Cardinal Beaton toured his diocese, leaving a trail of death by fire or gibbet. Many nobles of the realm were now favorable to the cause and Beaton compiled a list of a hundred whom he planned for destruction. When the King died, after the battle of Solway, this list was found upon him.

The hand of Providence may be traced in the sequel, for the man whose name headed the list of names became regent of the realm. An Act was passed on March 15, 1543, which allowed the Bible to be read by all in their mother tongue. Thenceforward the Bible was to be found in many a gentleman’s home, and the New Testament was widely read. According to Knox, the knowledge of God thereby increased wondrously, and “God gave His Holy Spirit to simple men in great abundance.” The regent’s zeal, however, soon abated, and before long Beaton was again in the ascendant.

Another light now arose in the person of George Wishart. He was a Greek scholar and taught that language in the Academy of Montrose. Coming under suspicion of heresy, he retired to England and then to Switzerland, where he came in contact with Bullinger. In July 1543, he returned to Scotland. He began to preach at Montrose, and then he visited Dundee, where he began a series of preachings on that great foundational epistle, the Epistle to the Romans. The governor and cardinal arrived with artillery to besiege the town. The citizens, together with Wishart, retired, leaving the town open to them. Although the preachings were later resumed, it was not long before Wishart had to leave. He preached elsewhere, in the open air, to larger companies than any church could hold. When the Plague attacked Dundee, he returned thither and preached to the sick as well as the whole. There a priest hired by the cardinal attempted to murder him, and when the crowd would have lynched his would-be assassin, Wishart intervened to save his life. After further labors in Edinburgh and Midlothian, he was arrested and imprisoned at St. Andrews. On February 28, 1546, he was put on trial and at noon on the following day taken to the stake, a rope around his neck and an iron chain around his waist. Bags of powder, placed around him at the stake, were exploded, scorching him badly, the rope was drawn tightly around his neck to strangle him, and his body was then devoured by the flames. He had told his friends before he was led out to his execution, “The grim fire I fear not. I know surely that my soul shall sup with my Saviour this night.” Wishart was only thirty-four years of age when his life was thus cut short by a martyr’s death.

On May 29 the Castle of St. Andrews was surprised and attacked by men of another spirit than Wishart’s, and Cardinal Beaton was killed. This violence was of no avail, another persecutor filled his place, and the persecution continued. Those who had seized the Castle retained it, and it became, for a time, a place of refuge for persecuted persons, among whom was John Knox, who was to play so conspicuous a part in the Reformation in Scotland. The Castle, however, did not protect him for long; in June 1547, it fell to a combined attack by French warships from the sea and the forces of the regent from the land. All its occupants, including Knox, were taken prisoners and put on board the French galleys. Thus ended an episode which aimed at furthering the Reformation by the sword. Eight years spent partly in captivity and partly in exile passed over Knox. God used those years to teach and form the vessel He later employed to the pulling down of the enemy’s strongholds. Among other things Knox was clear upon was the fact that no reformation of the papal system was right or possible. Christians must begin again on the foundation of Scripture. Knox visited Scotland again for a short time in 1555 and encouraged the growing army of believers, who now numbered among their ranks many of the nobility, but feeling that his presence would only bring persecution upon his friends, he retired to Geneva.

Meanwhile, believers multiplied, and they met together as and when circumstances permitted, to encourage and edify each other. They were of all classes, and at this stage there was no official ministry save that they appointed elders to watch over the morals of the company. The beginning of these small congregations supervised only by elders was in Edinburgh. In Dundee, the first minister was appointed and this city was then called the Geneva of Scotland.

About this time a number of nobles styled “the lords of the congregation” formed a covenant promising before God to defend and promote the establishment of the gospel in Scotland. Each within his own jurisdiction promoted the preaching of the gospel and the reading of the Scriptures, both in the parish churches and in their own castles and the homes of the people.

The hierarchy, greatly disturbed by these measures, once again adopted violent means. Walter Mill, a parish priest of Lunan, near Montrose, was seized and tried at St. Andrews. Feeble with the weight of his eighty-two years, he was hardly expected to be able to reply to the charges made against him, but he found strength in weakness and, looking straight at his accusers, he exclaimed after long questioning, “Ye shall know that I will not recant the truth, for I am corn and not chaff. I will not be blown away with the wind nor burst with the flail. I will abide both.” His age procured him no pity; he was condemned to the flames. As he stood bound to the stake, he said, “As for me, I am fourscore and two years old and cannot live long by course of nature, but a hundred better shall arise out of the ashes of my bones. I trust in God that I shall be the last that shall suffer in Scotland for this cause.” It was August 28, 1558, when he suffered. But the work of God continued; little companies of believers were now to be found in most of the towns of Scotland, the truths of Scripture were being taught, and the Lord’s supper was celebrated in simplicity. There were at this period but four preachers in the country, and the queen regent had given orders for their arrest. At this juncture Knox reappeared. He preached a sermon at Perth against idolatry and image worship. Though far from his wish, a lawless crowd began to attack the images and monasteries. Knox deplored these lawless acts, which gave the queen regent the very pretext she needed. Gathering an army, she attacked the city. She found it, however, too well prepared to proceed and opened negotiations which ended in a temporary compromise. The Protestant nobles decided to take bolder measures and set up the reformed worship wherever their authority extended and the majority of the inhabitants were favorable. Knox preached a powerful sermon at St. Andrews. The magistrates and townspeople resolved to set up the reformed worship in their city. Images and pictures were removed from the church. Their example was followed in many other places. Many monasteries were pulled down at this time. Further armed intervention on the part of the queen followed these events. Knox, however, continued his preaching with indefatigable energy. A foreign plot was being hatched to bring troops into Scotland for an attack on England. Of this Knox informed the advisers of Queen Elizabeth, who aided the Scots to drive out the French troops. Death removed the queen regent, and the government passed into the hands of those favorable to the Reformation. Here again we see the hand of Providence, for had the plot succeeded, the entire course of European history might have changed in favor of the Roman Catholic powers. In 1560 the Estates of the Realm met, and the Reformation was established in Scotland. A short summary of Christian doctrine was drawn up by Knox, read in Parliament, and duly adopted. This is known as the First Scots Confession. The Pope’s jurisdiction was abolished a few days later.

The arrival of Mary Stuart, Knox’s interviews with her and his trial and acquittal are matters which we must leave to ampler histories. Popery was overthrown in Scotland, never again to raise its head, although, as we shall see later, believers were yet to suffer persecution from the so-called reformed Church itself.

Chapter 32

Poland

Christianity first entered Poland about the ninth century. When the light had waned during the Middle Ages, it was rekindled by the Waldenses, who visited the country. The country received a further illumination in Wycliffe’s day, for the testimony which reached Bohemia also penetrated Poland. It began to shine more brightly in Luther’s day. The form of government was democratic, many of the cities were self-governing, and the people of Poland were by no means willing tamely to wear the Roman yoke. The effort of the hierarchy to suppress the gospel only recoiled upon itself. While Sigismund Augustus, who became king in 1548, never left the Roman communion, he was not opposed to the gospel. No country in Europe at that time enjoyed greater liberty, and the truth made considerable headway. The three Protestant communions in Poland — the Bohemian, the Lutheran and the Calvinistic—united in 1570. At that time the number of their churches exceeded two thousand. The Scriptures were translated into the native tongue, and a period of prosperity ensued such as the country had never known till then and has not enjoyed since.

Night returned with the invasion of the Jesuits, and the people of Poland were again brought into bondage to Rome, since which time, like other priest-ridden countries, it has sunk low among the nations.

John Alasco, a Polish nobleman, became one of the distinguished figures of the Reformation. While studying as a youth in Switzerland, he met Zwingli, who encouraged him to read the Scriptures. He spent some time with Oecolampadius. He was, on his return, given an important position in the Church, but close contact with the papal system opened his eyes to its evil character. The greatest ecclesiastical dignity his country could offer could have been his, but his heart had been won for Christ, for whose sake he forsook all and became a voluntary exile from his fatherland. After serving the cause of truth in Friesland for some time, he was invited by Archbishop Cranmer, when Edward VI came to the throne, to help forward the Reformation in England. He returned to the Continent on the accession of Mary. Repulsed by the Lutherans because of his Calvinistic views, he finally returned to Poland and took part in the Reformation there. He died in 1560, at the age of sixty-one.

Bohemia

The teachings of Luther and Calvin spread and prospered in Bohemia, where a gospel testimony was, as we have previously observed, already shining among the Bohemian brethren. The whole country became outwardly Protestant, and the brethren flourished under these favorable conditions. They differed in certain respects from the Reformers, refusing, among other things, the doctrine that infants were saved by baptism, asserting that baptism was only an outward sign of admission to the Church. The Reformers, too, recognized the rightness of their discipline. “I am pleased,” Melancthon wrote, “with the strict discipline enforced in your congregations. I wish we could have a stricter discipline in ours.”

The fruits of the Reformation in Bohemia did not last long. The Jesuits began to multiply in the country and to acquire increasing influence. Ferdinand, a bigoted Romanist, ascended the throne. The Protestants refused allegiance to him. Ferdinand, who meanwhile had become emperor, took his revenge. The leaders of the Protestants and their principal ministers perished on the scaffold. Oppression and torture pursued all who refused to accept the Romish religion. Many thousands were driven into exile, Protestantism in Bohemia was trampled into the dust, and with it the Bohemian nation perished. Nearly two hundred great families sold their lands and castles and left the country, and thirty-six thousand families of the common people went into exile. The Thirty Years’ War which followed reduced the country to a desert.

Hungary

In like manner, the Reformation entered Hungary and prospered exceedingly for a time, but, alas, the faith was crushed by the cruel and relentless hand of the Catholic reaction. A few remained and worshipped in secret.

Spain and Italy

These lands were visited by the gospel. But it had to struggle against the concentrated forces of a relentless foe. The Papacy reigned supreme in both these countries. The ever-watchful Inquisition was quick to observe any symptoms of deviation from Romish teaching and descended with swift and relentless cruelty upon its victims. Some faced its tortures and its fires, some quailed before its terrors, and some feared to confess their faith. Many fled to the hospitable shores of Protestant lands. England sheltered many; Geneva became a city of refuge for many more; others found refuge elsewhere.

Protestant books found their way into Spain from Germany, England, France, Italy and Switzerland. Luther’s Commentary on Galatians was translated into Spanish, and likewise the writings of Erasmus. In 1526 some Franciscan monks were brought before the Inquisition, and from this time forward rigorous measures were taken. Gospel books were prohibited, and Spain became insulated from the great movement in Europe, save for writings which were smuggled in.

Some light gleamed fitfully within the Roman pale. Juan de Valdés, a man of noble birth, seems to have had some knowledge of the truth, which he disseminated among the upper classes in Naples. A man named Ochini was preaching there at that time, and his preaching was influenced by Valdés’ teaching. His books were sufficiently opposed to Romish ideas for some of them to be prohibited.

Francisco de San Romano of Burgos, a young merchant, was converted at Bremen. He gave up his business with the object of preaching the gospel. He was made a prisoner, taken to Spain, lay for two years in prison, and then died triumphantly at the stake in 1544. Jayme de Enzinas suffered in the same way in 1546. His elder brother, Francisco, translated the New Testament into Spanish. He waited on the Emperor and tried to persuade him to patronize the work. The Emperor’s confessor took note of him, and he was arrested and imprisoned at Brussels, but he escaped to Strasbourg where he died from the Plague.

Chapter 33

Satan’s strongholds had been attacked, and his influence over the minds of men, exerted through the Romish system, had been greatly weakened by the gospel revival of the sixteenth century which is called the Reformation. Persecution, torture and death in its most horrible forms had failed to quench the gospel flame. Other means must be found to restore, if possible, the power of the Papacy. The history of Europe for a century or more is characterized by Rome’s determined efforts to regain her power over the world. Spain and Italy were still faithful to the Pope; the gospel seed sown there had been virtually stamped out. The lost territory in Hungary, Bohemia and Poland had been regained by brute force. In Germany, Switzerland, Holland, Scandinavia, Britain and, in part, France, the faith had taken root and was flourishing.

A vast plan had been conceived to recover all the lost territory and bring the kingdoms of Europe back into subservience to the Roman pontiff. Torrents of blood had already flowed during the second half of the sixteenth century in pursuit of this aim. The destruction of the Armada had dealt it a terrible blow, but Rome would not admit defeat. She had at her disposal now a new force — the Jesuits, the so-called Society of Jesus founded by Ignatious Loyola in 1540. Loyola was born not long after Luther, and he seems at one time to have passed through a period of darkness and distress like the latter. The issue was utterly different. He first sought fame as a warrior, but after recovering from an almost mortal wound, the whole current of his life was changed and he became a religious fanatic. He began to see visions and conceive grandiose schemes to serve the Romish Church. He propounded and put into effect a plan to form an army of bigoted zealots of his own ilk who would recover the world for the Church of Rome. Members of the order had to undergo a most severe training and were bound by a vow of absolute obedience to carry out the will of their superiors. Their philosophy was one of pure expediency: The end justified the means, however base. Truth, honor, righteousness, and every right moral principal was subordinated to the final aim. An evil system, however, carries within it the germs of decay, and in process of time the Jesuits came into conflict with governments and even with the Papacy itself, for it became more powerful than the Pope. It permeated like a leaven throughout society, among the rich and among the poor. Its influence spread like a web all over Europe. It had its public and its secret arms. By founding schools and colleges, it influenced youth. Kings and princes were among its pupils and its devotees. “There was no disguise they [the Jesuits] could not assume, and therefore there was no place into which they could not penetrate. They could enter unheard the closet of the monarch or the cabinet of the statesmen. They could sit unseen in Convocation or General Assembly and mingle unsuspected in the deliberations and debates. There was no tongue they could not speak and no creed they could not profess, and thus there was no people among whom they might not sojourn and no Church whose membership they might not enter and whose function they might not discharge. They could execrate the Pope with the Lutheran and swear the Solemn League with the Covenanter. They had their men of learning and eloquence for the halls of nobles and the courts of kings, their men of science and letters for the education of youth, their unpolished but ready orators to harangue the crowd, and their plain, unlettered monks to visit the cottages of the peasantry and the workshops of the artisan.”

Ere the Reformation ardor had died down, they penetrated its very stronghold in Germany and succeeded in effecting in some measure a revival of popery. Thus, while their teachers were busy instilling Romanism into the minds of youth, there were others operating in the courts of the great.

The Pacification of Augsburg in 1555 was a reluctant measure of toleration to Protestants in the German Empire, and it was the intention of the popish powers to sweep it away as soon as possible. The Protestant Union was formed in 1608 to counter this threat. Rome’s answer was the formation of the Catholic League in 1609. At its head was Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria, a bigoted disciple of the Jesuits. The object was to complete the restoration of popery in Germany by force of arms. The result was the Thirty Years’ War, which began in 1618 and continued till the Peace of Westphalia was signed in 1648. Ferdinand II, who succeeded to the German Empire in 1619, resolved to subdue the Protestant princes and extirpate the reformed religion. In the first twelve years, the armies of the popish powers spread like a flood over Germany. Fearing the effect their victory might have on his own dominions, Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, invaded the country in the Protestant cause. The awful tide of war swept back and forth over the hapless land for eighteen years, armies from France and other lands also intervening. Germany was desolated, many towns and villages perished in flames, the roads were empty, the land became a desert, weeds covered the once cultivated fields, and three-quarters of the population died from war, famine and disease. Such was the awful result of Rome’s determination to regain her sway in the land of Luther.

“The prophetic eye of Luther saw the approach of terrible evils to Germany, should the gospel preached not be held fast by her sons. His warning had been despised, and a night blacker than any he had foreseen descended on the fatherland.”

The attempt to restore popery failed, but in the struggle Christianity itself lay prostrate. The state of the country after the Thirty Years’ War was pitiable indeed. Here and there the torch of truth was kept burning, but spiritual death and worldliness covered the land. The nobility followed, for the most part, the example of the profligate French Court.

In France the fervent piety of the Huguenots had, by the beginning of the seventeenth century, sadly declined. Their synods met in an endeavor to revive the failing faith of their people. As in other countries, politics had mingled with the profession of Christianity, and the sword was drawn in its defense. In the little kingdom of Navarre, where the people were predominantly Protestant, they were ordered to return to the old religion. Soldiers were employed to force Romish practices on the population. People were driven to mass with cudgels, they were compelled to kneel when the Host passed, Protestant books were destroyed, and Protestant churches were damaged. The Huguenots took up arms and obtained some alleviation of their condition by a peace signed in 1622. They now became a sort of nation within the nation. Their faith and its exercise were linked with their civil rights. This admixture of politics and Christianity was a source of weakness. About this time Cardinal Richelieu appeared on the scene. He determined to crush the Huguenots politically. In spite of help from the English Puritans, he took the Huguenots’ stronghold of Rochelle in 1628, and the Huguenots’ power in France was crushed. What little liberty they had was by the grace of the sovereign. The same Richelieu who had broken the Protestants in France took part in the Thirty Years’ War on the Protestant side to weaken and humiliate the House of Austria and the Catholic League. Thus, as in olden time, “kingdom was broken against kingdom.”

Deprived of political power, the Huguenots prospered materially. The parts of France which they cultivated yielded the richest harvests. Their diligence and honesty made them prosperous in trade and industry. In the learned professions, too, they made their mark. The Protestant and Roman Churches subsisted side by side.

With the advent of that despot Louis XIV, things changed for the worse. He set himself to extinguish Protestantism. They were oppressed and harassed in every conceivable way. Even bribery was attempted to cause them to return to popery. Many fled the country. When other means proved inadequate, a truly horrible plan was devised. Soldiers were billeted on Huguenot families and encouraged to ill treat them. They were told they might do with them as they pleased, short of killing them.

“‘They gave rein to their passions,’ says Migault, describing the horrors of which he was eyewitness; ‘devastation, pillage, torture—there was nothing they recoiled at.’ The details must be suppressed; they are too horrible to be read. The poor people knew not what to do; they fled to the woods; they hid themselves in the caves of the mountains; many went mad; others, scarce knowing what they did, kissed a crucifix and had their names enrolled among the converts. The emigration was resumed on a great scale. Thousands rose to flee from a land where nothing awaited them but misery. The court attempted to arrest the fugitives by threatening them with the galleys for life. The exodus continued despite this terrible law. The refugees were joyfully welcomed in England and other Protestant lands to which, with their persons, they transferred their industry, their knowledge of art and letters, and their piety.”

This diabolical form of persecution, known in history as the “Dragonnades,” was carried out all over southern France. The Huguenots endeavored to find refuge in the forests, in the deserts of the Cevennes, or in the mountains of the Pyrenees. Even there they were pursued and hunted like animals, and if they failed to abjure, they were destroyed without mercy.

The crowning act of base tyranny then fell like a thunderbolt. The Edict of Nantes was repealed. The reformed worship was thereby outlawed, the churches of the Huguenots were destroyed, their pastors were banished, and their schools were closed. Henceforward all children were to be baptized in the Romish Church and brought up in the Romish religion. To this end, the children were taken from their parents and put in popish schools and institutions. Rome and her partisans hailed these tyrannical measures with delight and heaped encomiums on the King; medals were struck to celebrate the victory.

It is sickening to read the long tale of woe which was the lot of the hapless Huguenots. Like the suffering saints of old, those who wished to worship God according to their consciences could only do so in dens and caves or on mountaintops. Those who clung to the faith of the gospel were never free from persecution till the time of the French Revolution, for their sufferings continued into the eighteenth century.

Chapter 34

The progress of the gospel revival of the sixteenth century resembles the course of a swiftly running stream coming down the mountainside with impetuous force and finally losing its energy in a marshy plain where its waters move sluggishly along through the muddy flats. At the start, the divine impulse is seen in all its freshness; thirsty souls are refreshed; thousands are cleansed and healed in the waters of life. But ere long, human motives begin to clog the course of the gospel. Many whose hearts had not been touched, who had experienced no real conversion, conformed outwardly or gave a mere mental assent to the truth. Politics began to mingle with the revival; princes and rulers tampered with heavenly things and became lords over God’s heritage. The Church throughout its long history has always been weakened by worldly alliances. Likewise the revival, mingling its strength with politics and self-interest, lost its power. Coming under worldly influence and patronage, its spiritual force ebbed away. Romanism was characterized by its attempt to rule the world; Protestantism by its subservience to the State. Wherever the so-called Reformed Churches were established, it was by, or under the aegis of, the ruling powers. The Protestant princes of Germany, the kings of Scandinavia and the sovereigns of England all played a dominant part in church affairs.

The worst abuses had been removed, some false doctrines had been set aside, vital truths such as justification by faith had been recovered, the Bible was circulated — these were blessings of incalculable value — but the Reformation left the Church and the world in unholy alliance. The Reformation was not completed.

Many intelligent and spiritually minded Christians realized this. With the open Bible before them, they saw clearly that the Reformed Churches did not agree with the Word of God. Superficial thinkers and the advocates of Romanism attribute the divisions of Christendom to the Reformation. The real cause was ignorance of or failure to obey the truth. Indeed, within a short time after the departure of the apostles, sects began to multiply. It is error, not truth, which makes sects. Rome tried to enforce unity by terror and the stake, but even Rome was never more than a part of Christendom, and there were always many outside its pale, among them the most faithful Christians.

When Luther stood up against the embattled ramparts of Rome armed only with the Word of God, he was mightily helped. That was his great work. But another problem faced him, which was beyond his power to solve. What was to be done with the established system of religion which existed in Germany? He could not sweep it away, and if he could, he would not, for what was to fill its place? He knew not what to do. He saw clearly enough from Scripture that the true Church was composed of all the redeemed, hidden, often persecuted and scattered outwardly, but united by the indwelling Spirit. It is said that at one period he thought of gathering true believers together into an inner fellowship within the public Church, as was attempted later by the Methodists. He had not the faith to make a clean break with the public body. He decided it was impracticable. Others, however, did it, notably the much-maligned Anabaptists.

It was a time of confusion; for one thing, a vast amount of Church property was involved. In his dilemma, Luther sought the assistance of the Protestant princes. Gradually the Lutheran Church was organized. It resembled, in many respects, the Anglican, though the princes were regarded rather as patrons and protectors than rulers of the Church, and the bishops were replaced by superintendents.

Luther, moreover, was not prepared to revert to the simplicity that marked the worship of the early Church. Much of the old ritual remained; elaborate altars, crucifixes and rich vestments were retained. In this it differed from the simpler form established by Calvin. Like the Anglican Church, too, it sought to embrace the whole population of the country. This was a fatal weakness, and, as Luther sorrowfully admitted, it lacked an effective discipline.

Calvin attempted to model his system more after the pattern of the early Church — government by elders. Calvin realized that, unless the Church was to be corrupted, some means must be found of excluding the profane and immoral from the Lord’s table. This power was vested in the elders. Into the details of the system we need not go further here, but it gave rise to the various forms of Presbyterianism, and under the title Reformed it became a rival of the Lutheran Church. Though in theory Calvin made a clear distinction between Church and State, in practice the City Council in Geneva had more power than the Consistory.

In practice, all the established Churches resulting from the Reformation suffered from the fatal weakness that they were dependent on or dominated by the State. Yet nothing is clearer in the New Testament than the fact that the Church has no part with the world, belongs to heaven and not to earth, and is responsible to Christ alone as Head. Insofar as it has been free from the world and worldly principles, its testimony has been effective; insofar as it has been controlled or influenced by it, its power has waned and its testimony wilted. Hence, in this history we have sought to trace those unworldly features which are proper to the Church, which, since its first failure, can only be discovered in individuals or groups of individuals whose lives and testimony are characterized by “the faith once delivered to the saints” (Jude 3 JND).

The English Church was a compromise largely consequent on the political situation in Elizabeth’s reign. It has been called a via media. Elizabeth feared to make drastic changes lest her Roman Catholic subjects should be incited to rebellion. She liked ritual, and many Romish features were retained. Although the Pope was disowned, the reformed Anglican Church was simply the pre-Reformation Church purged of some of its Romish features. The Anglican Church still traces its episcopacy back to Augustine of Canterbury, who was ordained by Pope Gregory. The queen became the Governor of the Church, though she avoided the term “head” (as belonging only to Christ). She asserted her authority to the full in civil and ecclesiastical affairs. To question her rights in church government was sedition, and some suffered death for it.

There was little change, too, in the clergy. Of the ninety-four hundred parochial clergy in office when Elizabeth came to the throne, only eighty resigned their livings. To prevent their spreading papist views, they were forbidden to preach and permitted only to read the Protestant homilies. This shows how superficial was the change. There were many who were seriously disturbed by the halfhearted character of the reformation of the English Church. Some Protestants, qualified to fill high office, accepted bishoprics in spite of much that they could not approve. Others remained outside the Establishment rather than compromise their consciences. They had a large body of enlightened opinion behind them. Those who desired a further reformation were called Puritans. Many Puritans remained in the Church, hoping to bring about the desired reforms from within. Some wished to see the Presbyterian system of church government adopted.

In 1585 a petition was lodged with Parliament pointing out the unhappy state of affairs. In thousands of parishes the gospel was never preached. There were at that time twelve thousand parishes in the country without pastors. Nothing was done. Suitable men were not available, yet the population was tied to this defective Church, and dissenters were not only discouraged, but persecuted. Such was the evil result of a State-controlled Church.

There were many real Christians who could not conscientiously have any part in a system which they felt was so contrary to the Scriptures. About this time there was in London a company of about two hundred persons, mainly poor and unlearned, who had left the Church for conscientious reasons and who met and worshipped in secret. When discovered, their leaders were jailed, and their pastor, Richard Fitz, died in prison.

In 1571 there was printed “An Appeal to England to Return to God,” signed by twenty-seven persons: It was a touching document in which the following scriptural sentiments were expressed:

“According to the saying of the Almighty, our God, ‘Wherever two or three are gathered in My name, there am I in the midst’ (Matt. 18:20), so we a poor congregation whom God hath separated from the Church of England and from the mingled and false worshipping therein used, out of which assemblies the Lord our only Saviour hath called us and still calleth, saying, ‘Come out from among them, and be separated, saith the Lord’ (2 Cor. 6:17). So as God giveth strength at this day, we do serve the Lord every Sabbath in houses, and on the fourth day in the week we meet or come together weekly to use prayer and exercise discipline on them which do deserve it, by the strength and sure warrant of the Lord God’s Word as in Matthew 18:16-17 and 1 Corinthians 5:45.”

In 1581 a certain Robert Browne wrote a very strong plea for immediate reformation and return to scriptural practices. A Church was formed in Norwich on these lines, but persecution drove them to Middelburg in Holland. Differences, however, arose among them. Browne, after much persecution, seems to have succumbed and in later years conformed to the Established Church. Christians who followed these simple Scriptural teachings were often called Brownists. For circulating the works of Browne and Harrison, which denied the authority of Queen Elizabeth in the Church of Christ, John Copping, Elias Thacker of Bury St. Edmunds and William Dennis of Thetford were hanged on the gallows.

In 1586 a preacher named Greenwood, who held these views, was arrested while preaching. While Greenwood was in prison, he was visited by a friend named Barrowe, who was himself taken into custody without warrant or authority. Henry Barrowe was born in 1546 and graduated at Cambridge. His early life was careless and worldly, but passing a church one day in London, he entered, and something the preacher said smote his conscience. He was convicted of sin, but before long got peace with God. Thereafter he devoted himself to the study of the Scriptures and led a godly life. His understanding of the truth led him to separate from the State Church. He was averse to the prayer book. “Shall we think,” he asked, “that God had left His people so destitute of His grace that they could not find words in which to express their desires, but had to be taught like children line by line?” Prayer, he said, was “a confident demanding which faith makes through the Holy Spirit according to the will of God.” He was kept in prison for seven years. Together with Greenwood he was brought to trial and charged with publishing seditious books. Both Barrowe and Greenwood were hanged at Tyburn on April 6, 1593. These faithful men suffered because the Church of England was controlled by the Sovereign and therefore to question its constitution was sedition. How vividly this illustrates the fatal weakness of Protestantism, namely the domination of the Church by the State.

Another victim of this evil alliance between Church and State was John Penry of Builth (Brecknockshire). It was the custom for some of the members of Cambridge University to meet weekly for prayer. On one of these occasions, Penry came under conviction of sin. He turned in faith to the Lord Jesus Christ, and his heart was filled with evangelical zeal for the conversion of his countrymen in Wales, who still lacked the gospel light which had reached so many other places. In 1587 he made an appeal to the Queen and Parliament for the evangelization of that land. He preached there successfully himself and urged that men might be allowed to preach without ordination. He maintained that every congregation of Christians was the body of Christ and had the right to call upon the services of any of its members for the purposes of instruction, consolation and edification, which he had obviously learned from the plain teaching of 1 Corinthians 14. He was arrested but later released from prison, only to be again imprisoned. Among his private papers, some were found which were construed as seditious. Although these had never been published, he was sentenced to death and, in May 1593, he was hanged. He was a fervent evangelist, and his suffering and death were due to his earnest desire to carry the gospel to the neglected people of Wales.

In 1593 an act was passed making it a crime to be absent from church for a month or attempting to deny the queen’s ecclesiastical supremacy either by the spoken, written or printed word. It was made an offence to persuade anyone to be absent from church or to be present at any unlawful meeting for religious worship. The penalties for non-conformity were, after three months, banishment. For failing to go or returning without permission, the penalty was death by hanging. Many emigrated to Holland. Even so, many of the persecuted still felt it was the duty of rulers to suppress false religion and idolatry. It was this which made the Puritans themselves persecutors when they got into power. Religious toleration was unknown in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

Little companies of Dissenters like those we have just noticed began to multiply in spite of persecution from this time onwards. They held that the Church should not be subject to human authority and that no company of Christians in a place could exercise authority over another company elsewhere. They held that each local Church was independent, hence they came in time to be called Independents or Congregationalists. They declined to formulate a system of doctrine, relying solely on the Scriptures and the guidance of the Holy Spirit. They do not appear to have begun with any idea of forming a sect, and in their early days they formed no federation of churches. They appear to have arisen spontaneously as a result of a sincere desire to leave the error and confusion of the Reformed Churches and return to the simplicity of apostolic times. We shall meet them again, for they formed an important section of the nonconforming Christians in England throughout the seventeenth century.

Having noticed the Puritans both within and without the Church, it may be appropriate to refer to another movement which also originated during the Reformation era. The Baptists (or Anabaptists) originated on the Continent. They attempted to return to the simplicity of New Testament times, declined all worldly associations and called themselves simply “brethren” or disciples. The first of their congregations appeared at Zurich in 1525, whence the movement spread through central and western Europe. They were generally denominated Anabaptists because they held infant baptism to be unscriptural and insisted on the baptism of believers only. They were persecuted by both the Romish and the Reformed Churches.

The Anabaptist movement was discredited by the rise of a corrupt and fanatical party led by Jan Matthys and John of Leyden. The godly element could have had little in common with these wild extremists who went under the Anabaptist name, but they suffered for the folly of the latter. This fanatical party took possession of the city of Munster and attempted to set up a sort of Christian communistic state. The Bishop of Munster and the neighboring princes attacked the city, and the defenders were massacred with frightful tortures. This was in 1535. There were, however, many true Christians, who were known by this name, who led peaceful and exemplary lives. Thousands of these suffered martyrdom, being beheaded, burned at the stake or drowned. After the Munster affair, many of these gathered around a man named Menno Simons, and a body later known as Mennonites came into existence. In their insistence on the Lord’s deity, some of them appear in time to have developed unsound ideas as to His humanity.

The teaching of both the Romish and Reformed Churches was that a child was saved by baptism, a view which is still sanctioned by the English Prayerbook, for in the baptismal service the Priest says, “This child is regenerate and grafted into the body of Christ’s Church.” As this attributes new birth to an outward rite — often performed by an unbelieving and ungodly minister —it is not difficult to see that many godly souls had serious difficulties about it and adopted Baptist views by conviction. Although there are records of Anabaptists being persecuted and put to death in England in the reign of Henry VIII, they do not seem to have survived in any great numbers.

Early in the seventeenth century a record appears of a little body of Christians who had as their minister a certain John Smyth, a Cambridge scholar who had, after much exercise of heart, left the Church of England. In 1608 the whole company was driven to Holland by persecution, where they found other congregations separated from the Church. This little company adopted Baptist opinions, and some of them, under the leadership of Thomas Helwys, returned to London in 1612 and began the first Baptist Church in England.

Chapter 35

When James I came to the throne, the Puritans in the Church petitioned for a further reformation, hoping that James, brought up in the Scottish Church, would favor Presbyterianism. The Independents made an appeal to be allowed to worship according to a more scriptural pattern. They called it, “An Apology or Defense of such true Christians as are commonly (but unjustly) called Brownists.” James would have none of it and issued a proclamation discouraging such petitions. He indicated that the question was one to be decided by his conscience, not theirs. A conference was held between the Prelatists and the Puritans, over which the King himself presided and made long speeches, for he was quite well versed in theology. The Prelatists flattered his vanity with fawning adulation, some evidence of which can be discerned in the preface to the Authorized Version of the Bible. The decision to prepare that version was the only good thing which came out of the conference. “If you aim at a Scottish presbytery,” said the King, addressing the Puritans, “it agrees as well with monarchy as God with the devil,” and turning to the Archbishop and his colleagues, he remarked, “If you were out and these men in, I know not what would become of my supremacy — for no bishops, no king.” This last terse remark reveals James’ outlook on the matter and explains, in a phrase, the religious troubles of the Stuart period. What mattered to James and his successors was not what was right according to Scripture, but what suited the King. The suffering of the Puritans in England and the Covenanters in Scotland stemmed from this cause. Prelacy suited the King and it must suit his subjects. Bancroft became Archbishop of Canterbury soon after, and during his seven years of office, Puritanism was suppressed with merciless severity. Three hundred clergy were silenced or deprived of their livings. Large numbers gave up their livings in London and went into obscurity. Many Dissenters went abroad. The Puritans who remained in the Church lost their ardor.

About this time there was a revival in the counties of Yorkshire, Nottinghamshire and Lincolnshire, and Puritan teachings were very widely diffused. Many in those parts of the country separated from the State Church. Among those most prominent were John Smyth and John Robinson. These men, with many others, went to Holland to escape persecution. In 1620 Robinson and a hundred others — the famous Pilgrim Fathers — made their historic voyage in the Mayflower to find liberty of worship in the New World. Meanwhile, persecution had slackened, but not ceased, with the death of Bancroft. During this reign, fourteen heretics were burned for religious opinions. One, named Legatt, suffered for Arianism; another, named Wightman, was accused of a variety of heresies including Anabaptism. As they were charged with anti-Christian doctrines, they are not regarded as Christian martyrs. James did not encourage dissent by such severe measures. He left non-conformists to pine away secretly in prison.

James turned his attention to the Scottish Church, where the Presbyterian system, which was so obnoxious to him, prevailed. He was determined to establish episcopacy in that country. Indeed, his motto was “one king, one flock, one law” for both realms. Under the influence of Laud, who played a more conspicuous part in the next reign, an attempt was made to bring the ritual also into line with the Church of England. To many people in Scotland, these innovations, such as kneeling at communion and the observance of the Church festivals, were the reintroduction of features of popery. The new bishops did not press matters unduly, but the seed was sown which was to bear evil fruit in the next reign. Towards the end of James’ reign, parts of Scotland were visited by a remarkable spiritual revival in which the direct action of the Holy Spirit on human hearts was plainly evident.

Charles I inherited his father’s extreme views on the divine right of kings, but he was singularly narrow-minded and utterly unreliable. His promises meant nothing at all. Never was a man less fitted to rule. When he came to the throne, the Thirty Years’ War was raging, and popery was aggressive and triumphant on the Continent. The King’s wife was a Romanist, and although he professed to support the Protestant cause, many felt the popish recusants were treated very leniently, while there was an influential party in the Church which, to Puritan eyes, was Romanist in disguise. Archbishop Laud began to introduce popish features into the liturgy, and those of the clergy who spoke against images and crucifixes were fined, suspended and imprisoned.

The number of those who separated from the Church continually increased. There were eleven separatist churches in London alone, which were known to the authorities to be meeting in secret. A congregation was found in June 1632, meeting in a wood near Newington, Surrey. Another was broken up at Ashford, Kent, in 1637, and another the next year at Rotherhithe. Large numbers of pious folk were prepared to face fines, imprisonment and even death in order to worship God according to the truth.

Those who spoke against the existing church order were treated with barbarous cruelty. Dr. Alexander Leighton, a scholarly divine, had written a book severely condemning Prelacy. He was whipped and put in the pillory, one of his ears was cut off, one side of his nose was slit, and one cheek was branded with a hot iron with the letters S.S. (Sower of Sedition). A week later he was again whipped and pilloried, the other ear was cut off, the other side of his nose was slit, and the other cheek was branded. Then he was sent to prison and kept in close confinement for ten years. When released at the time of the Long Parliament, he could scarcely walk, see or hear. Laud himself recorded these facts in his diary. Many others suffered similar brutalities.

In 1637 Archbishop Laud introduced a new liturgy for the Church of Scotland which bore an alarming resemblance to the popish breviary. The Privy Council of Scotland protested, but the King was obdurate and opposition was treated as treason. In 1638 the Scottish people renewed the National Covenant. The King was exasperated but helpless. A general assembly of the Church was convened and proceeded to depose the bishops who had been appointed against the wishes of the Scottish Church. Charles summoned Parliament and asked for supplies for a war with the Scots. It was refused, but money was found by the clergy, Romanists contributing willingly (a sinister fact). Scotland was invaded, but without success, and peace was signed. In spite of this, true to his character, Charles renewed his attack the next year. The Scots were again victorious and won for themselves free Parliaments and free Church Assemblies. Save for the sporadic raids of Montrose, who ravaged many parts of the country with fire and sword, Scotland enjoyed twenty years of religious liberty. Charles himself ratified the National Covenant.

Rome’s agents, the Jesuits, were busy throughout the country. Fear of popery and continued interference with the liberties of the people led to a crisis. In 1641, fifteen thousand persons signed a petition for the abolition of Episcopacy. Such an exodus of Puritans was taking place that efforts were made to arrest it. By the time the Civil War began, twenty thousand had emigrated to New England.

Meanwhile, the English Parliament had taken action against the King’s tyrannical rule, and Charles made fair promises to appease his discontented subjects. In 1642 Charles himself began the Civil War. The English Parliament and the Scottish people joined hands and the Solemn League and Covenant was signed all over the country.

In 1643 Parliament took in hand the reformation of the Church. In July that year, Lords and Commons passed an ordinance for an assembly of “learned and godly divines” to settle the vexed question of church order and liturgy. They labored for five years. The outcome was the Westminster Standards, consisting of a Confession of Faith, a Form of Church Government, a Directory of Public Worship and a larger and shorter catechism. These were based on the teachings of Calvin. In 1647 these standards were adopted by the Church of Scotland. In England, Presbyterianism was only partially adopted.

Two years later the King was executed, and Cromwell took over the reins of government. More thorough reforms followed; a commission was appointed to weed out useless and unworthy ministers, and it appears to have done its work conscientiously. Provided a man was competent to preach and led a holy, unblamable life, he was allowed to serve as a minister in an endowed Church, whether he was an Episcopalian, Presbyterian, Independent or Baptist. There was at the same time liberty for Non-Conformists to meet separately as Independents, Quakers or Baptists. Roman Catholics, Unitarians and non-Christian sects were excepted, but Royalist Churchmen continued to meet without interference. “If the poorest Christian, the most mistaken,” said Cromwell to Parliament, “shall desire to live peaceably under you ... let him be protected.”

Richard Baxter, who was not very partial to Cromwell, says that there was a notable increase of godliness under the Protectorate. Nothing was nearer to Cromwell’s heart than liberty for all true Christians to worship according to their light. It seems that it was because he felt that this and other liberties would disappear if matters were left in other and weaker hands that he clung to power. He believed he was divinely called to this mission—a fact which helps to explain the strange contradiction of his life, between his confession of Christianity and his assertion of despotic authority. The divine right of rulers had been a doctrine taught in Christendom for ages: Queen Elizabeth held it; James I and Charles I insisted on it. Cromwell seems to have felt he had been divinely appointed to rule righteously where others had ruled evilly.

Though the sword in the hands of Christians is a dreadful anomaly and contrary to the Lord’s express command, the victory of the Parliamentary forces and the brief period of Cromwell’s ascendancy gave true Christians a breathing space, and there is no doubt that piety and spirituality spread in this period. Certainly the moral condition of the country had never been better.

“The dress and conversation of the people were sober and virtuous, and their manner of living remarkably frugal. There was hardly a single bankruptcy to be heard of in a year, and in such case the bankrupt had a mark of infamy set upon him that he could never wipe off. Drunkenness, fornication, profane swearing and every kind of debauchery were justly deemed infamous and universally discountenanced. The clergy were laborious to excess in preaching, praying, catechizing youth and visiting their parishes. The magistrates did their duty in suppressing all kinds of games, stage plays and abuses in public houses. There was not a play acted in any theater in England for almost twenty years. The Lord’s Day was observed with unusual reverence, and there were a set of as learned and pious youths training up in the university as had ever been known.”

Cromwell was an Independent and favored full liberty of conscience in the form of worship. It was therefore a time of peace for the persecuted Dissenters. Men no longer had their noses slit, their cheeks branded or their ears cut off for failure to conform to the established Church.

The worldly element in the nation, though held in check by Puritan influence and discipline, found such standards of life irksome, and when Cromwell died the monarchy was restored with delirious joy. Everything was reversed. Charles was a lover of pleasure, sensual and profligate, and the court attracting to it men of his own ilk set the country a disgraceful example.

“At the Restoration there returned with it a torrent of debauchery and wickedness. The times which followed the Restoration were the reverse of those which preceded it, for the laws which had been enacted against vice for the last twenty years being declared null and the magistrates changed, men set no bounds to their licentiousness ... but in reality the King was at the head of these disorders, being devoted to his pleasures and having given himself up to an avowed course of lewdness. There were two play houses erected in the neighborhood of the Court, women actresses were introduced into the theaters, which had not been known till that time, the most lewd and obscene plays were brought on the stage and the more obscene the better the King was pleased, who graced every new play with his royal presence. Nothing was to be seen at court but feasting, hard drinking, reveling and amorous intrigues, which engendered the most enormous vices. From court the contagion spread like wildfire among the people, insomuch that men threw off the very profession of virtue and piety.”

Charles would have favored religious toleration for a time at any rate, in order to please the Church of Rome to which he was secretly attached. The Royalist and High Church party under Clarendon were determined otherwise. On St. Bartholomew’s Day, 1662, the Act of Uniformity came into force. Every minister was thereby compelled to declare his complete assent to everything contained in the Book of Common Prayer. Two thousand ministers thereupon gave up their livings rather than subscribe to what was against their consciences. For many this meant sacrificing their livelihood, and not a few had no other support than charity. They were, moreover, ordered to move twenty miles from their parishes and at least six miles from a cathedral city or three from a royal borough, while no two of them were allowed to live in the same town. What this involved in the way of hardship it is not difficult to imagine.

Presbyterians, Independents, Baptists and Quakers were all affected. For the next twenty years Non-Conformists were spied upon, fined and imprisoned in great numbers. The Conventicle Act of 1664 forbade any gathering of over five persons. It was a dark period in Britain’s history. In 1665 the Plague visited London and decimated its population. While most of the Anglican ministers fled, many of the persecuted Non-Conformist preachers returned and risked their lives to minister to the dying citizens. In the same year, the Five Mile Act forbade any ejected minister from approaching nearer than five miles to any corporation. The total number of Dissenters in England in 1669 was estimated at 120,000.

Having his eye, doubtless, on the Roman Catholics, Charles eased the situation in 1672 by a Declaration of Indulgence, allowing Non-Conformists to teach in licensed places. Parliament, however, opposed the King’s clemency and in the next year passed the Test Act, making it impossible for any who did not take communion in the Church of England to occupy any office under the Crown. Charles annulled his Declaration of Indulgence.

In Scotland an even heavier blow was struck. An act was passed making the Scottish Church completely subject to the King and an Oath of Supremacy was framed in which the King was to be acknowledged as supreme in religious as well as in civil affairs. The liberties of Scotland were swept completely away. The Solemn League and Covenant was condemned as a treasonable compact. The bishops were restored; ministers who would not submit were ejected. Many churches were closed, and preaching without a license was forbidden. The people now began to gather for worship on the moors, on the hills and in caves. Hundreds of thousands attended preachings in the open air. Bitter persecution ensued. From 1663 Charles ruled Scotland as a despot. Persons absent from church were subjected to brutal treatment from the soldiers who were employed to enforce the King’s orders. Dragoons were sent out to hunt, harass and distress the absentees and compel them to fill the empty churches. The plight of the poor people thus delivered up to the tender mercies of brutal soldiery, who committed acts of indecency and violence against them, is painful to contemplate. For five years they bore this unresistingly, until in 1666 the cruel treatment of an aged man by some of the soldiers provoked armed retaliation, and a reign of terror followed. Many now worshipped in the open air, while armed scouts kept guard for fifty miles around. Tyranny and persecution drove the Covenanters into open resistance. In the twenty-eight years during which these persecutions lasted, over twenty-eight thousand persons were put to death or died as a result of the conflict.

This was the awful outcome of the Church being dominated by the secular power. Charles was professedly a Protestant monarch. These thousands of poor folk, many of whom were doubtless devout Christians, were sacrificed in the relentless determination to force upon Scotland a form of worship which was against the consciences of many of its people.

Charles died in 1685. In his dying moments, a popish priest was smuggled into his room, and before he drew his last breath, he was reconciled to the Romish Church. The movement which Rome had so long awaited now arrived. Charles’ brother, an avowed papist, came to the throne. The papal nuncio entered Britain. Religious liberty was proclaimed in order to free the Romanists. An attempt was made to officer the army and navy with papists. But James II moved too fast. The country took fright at the specter of a revival of Romanism. William of Orange, who had married the King’s daughter, was invited to receive the crown. He came over in 1688, the nation rallied to his standard, James fled to France, and William and Mary ascended the throne. The event is commemorated by a statue in Brixham harbor bearing the following inscription:

WILLIAM, PRINCE OF ORANGE, afterwards William III, King of Great Britain and Ireland, landed near this spot, November 5, 1688, and issued his famous declaration: “The liberties of England and the Protestant religion I will maintain.”

In this swift and bloodless revolution Britain was finally delivered from Romish tyranny. For years plotting and scheming continued, but the decrees of Providence cannot be thwarted. A large and increasing measure of liberty was henceforth to be granted to the people of Britain in matters of faith and conscience.

Chapter 36

In the early part of the seventeenth century there arose in the bosom of the Roman Catholic Church in France a body of persons who taught justification by faith, who revered the Scriptures as the Word of God, who assiduously circulated them, and who, because they held the truth, were bitterly persecuted, although they never left the Church or denied the authority of the Pope.

On the human side, this movement can be traced to two men, Jean du Verger, the Abbot of St. Cyran, and Jansenius, the Bishop of Ypres. The former was educated at the universities of Paris and Louvain and early in life acquired an interest in the Holy Scriptures. It was said that he loved the Word of God “beyond every treasure or precious thing the world contained.” He often remarked that in order to profit by it, Scripture must be read by a portion of the very same Spirit by which it was written. He continually told his disciples they should scarcely read anything else. “The fathers,” he said, “read the Scriptures alone, and we likewise should find all there if we in truth searched them as we ought.” He was, however, well versed in the writings of the fathers. “The Holy Scriptures,” he was wont to say, “had been penned by the direct ray of the Holy Spirit; the works of the fathers only by the reflex ray emanating therefrom.” He had formed a lifelong friendship with Jansenius. They pursued their studies together for some years, always with the great end of bringing their fellowmen to the knowledge of the truth. Esteeming Augustine as one of the most enlightened of the fathers, they paid special attention to his writings. In course of time, Jansenius became Bishop of Ypres, while his friend, the Abbot of St. Cyran, lived at Paris, where he became well-known for his holy character as well as his learning. Many sought him as their spiritual guide. He shunned high society, though highly esteemed, even at Court. His teaching and his influence affected an ever widening circle, and the effects of it were such that many in every rank of society were touched by it. Thus arose, without the establishment of any outward sect, a circle of godly people, instructed in Scripture.

At this time the abbess of the convent of Port Royal, near Paris, a truly converted woman, distinguished for her piety and strength of mind, had effected a striking reform in the manners of her own and several other convents, which had become very loose, like so many of the religious institutions of the time. The Abbot of St. Cyran became director of this convent, and at this period both he and his followers were held in high esteem. The abbess herself delighted in the scriptural teachings thus disseminated. Meanwhile, Jansenius had completed a remarkable work based on the doctrine of St. Augustine. The Plague was raging in Flanders, and the devoted bishop was to be found, personally, at the bedsides of the sick and dying, even attending them with his own hands. In the end he caught the infection himself and died in 1638 when fifty-three years of age.

A number of little schools were founded under the direction of St. Cyran in which the aim was to combine education with true piety. This increased the influence of the movement, and writings appeared which were remarkable for their fervent piety, their learning and their elegant style. Although anonymous, they were quickly attributed to the Port Royalists; people said they bore the stamp of Port Royal. Many came under the influence of St. Cyran and among them were young men from the noblest families in France, who sought retirement from the world and established themselves in an old convent at Port Royal des Champs. Among those who resorted there for prayer, study and meditation was the famous Blaise Pascal. Unlike the religious orders, these persons were bound by no special vows, but among their chief exercises was the study of the Holy Scriptures. Thus occupied and directed by a God-fearing and Spirit-taught leader, they acquired, though still in the bondage of Rome, distinctly evangelical views.

Satan, knowing the danger of such a movement in his very stronghold, stirred up enemies. The reputation of the Port Royalists and the esteem in which they were universally held provoked the jealousy of the Jesuits. The doctrines of Jansenius were attacked and became, for a time, a subject of controversy. The Port Royalists suffered bitter persecution. The Abbot of St. Cyran himself was thrown into prison, and another leader, de Sacy, was immured in the Bastille, where he spent his time translating the Scriptures. The pious nuns of Port Royal were dispersed to other places, and though they enjoyed, for a time, respite from persecution, it was afterwards renewed with greater intensity. Finally, in 1709, Louis XIV, influenced by the infamous Madame de Maintenon, issued an edict for the suppression and destruction of both houses of Port Royal. It fell to the lot of Cardinal de Noailles, a weak man, to execute the vicious edict. The occupants were dispersed to various places of imprisonment, where they remained until the death of the King in 1715. In 1711 the buildings, which had cost a vast sum to build, were razed to the ground. The venomous hatred of their enemies pursued even the dead. The remains of the hundreds who had been interred over many years were torn unceremoniously from their graves and cast into a great pit. A wave of horror and indignation swept over France. The Jesuits, who had instigated the persecution, sunk in the estimation of the public. Their deceitful philosophy had already been exposed by Pascal, and now reports of their having openly encouraged the most infamous practices of idolatry in China came to light. To this was now added the horrible tale of the destruction of Port Royal. The tool of the Court, Cardinal de Noailles, was filled with bitter remorse. He is said to have visited the scene of destruction and uttered there these despairing words, beating his breast: “Oh these dismantled stones will rise against me at the day of judgment. Oh how shall I ever bear the vast, the heavy load?” How insatiable the hatred of the prince of darkness against the children of light! While these scenes were being enacted against Scripture-loving children of the Roman Church, thousands of poor Huguenots were being driven into exile, sent to the galleys or put to death.

Chapter 37

We have already observed in these pages that the Church having failed at the beginning of its career as the corporate witness on earth to the truth of God, the true testimony was maintained by individuals. This is seen at every subsequent phase of its history. It is strikingly true of the period we are now considering. In every period there have been men and women whose lives have shone with distinctive luster and who have set a shining example, not only to those of their own generation, but to those who have followed after.

The revival of the sixteenth century had failed to restore the Church. Rome, though chastened and weakened, still dominated a large part of Europe in the seventeenth century. Lutheranism and Calvinism had become moribund systems. The Anglican Church had become a department of the State. If we look for Christianity, we shall only find it in individuals or in little groups drawn together by a common faith in and love for Christ.

In England two outstanding examples of such overcomers are Richard Baxter and John Bunyan. In faith and unswerving devotion to their Master, in a clear grasp of the gospel, as men whose lives illuminated their teaching, and as powerful writers and effective speakers, they are alike; in other respects they differ greatly. Bunyan served all his life among the persecuted Dissenters outside the State Church; Baxter found his sphere of service in it, until he was driven out in 1662 by the Act of Uniformity.

Richard Baxter

Richard Baxter was born at Rowton in Shropshire, son of a Christian father who had himself been converted by reading the Scriptures. In early years, Baxter passed through much exercise of soul but arrived gradually at settled peace. His first impressions were doubtless received from his godly father, but he read helpful books from which he gained further insight into the truth. He never had the benefit of a university education, but his native genius enabled him to acquire a varied stock of knowledge. Ill health persisted throughout his long life of seventy-six years.

He had a longing to serve God and was ordained in 1638 by the Bishop of Worcester. Though officially a minister of the Church, he sympathized strongly with the Non-Conformist point of view. Like many other Puritans of his day, he would have liked to see the English Church reformed on more scriptural lines, and his lifelong desire was to see Christians united.

In 1640 the people of Kidderminster petitioned against their vicar who, like many others at this time, was a drunken and ignorant man. A compromise was reached by the vicar allowing sixty pounds a year for a preacher who would do most of the work of the parish. Baxter was offered and accepted the post.

Kidderminster had then about three thousand inhabitants, mostly engaged in weaving. A local historian writing in 1777, when carpet weaving had been introduced, attributed the success of the industry to Baxter’s influence on the lives and character of the people. There was no other church in the town, and a revival quickly followed his labors, so that the church had to be enlarged. There were many conversions, and family worship became the custom in the town. Baxter himself records that when he arrived, there was but one family in a street that worshipped God, and when he left there was hardly more than one family on each side of the street that did not make a serious profession. His earliest successes were among the youth of the town, and, in many cases, parents were won by seeing the effect of the gospel on their children. He was not content merely to preach, but, with his two assistants, he reckoned to cover the whole of the eight hundred families in the town in the course of a year. Families came to his house where he exhorted and conversed with them.

His devotion and enthusiasm affected others, and he and neighboring ministers met to help and encourage each other. Together they formed an association, and on its inauguration asked Baxter to preach to them. He intended to speak on the passage in Acts 20:28, “Take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over the which the Holy Ghost hath made you overseers, to feed the church of God, which He hath purchased with His own blood.” Owing to illness, the address was never delivered, but it became the basis of what is regarded as his greatest book, The Reformed Pastor. He used the word “reformed” in the sense of a change of heart in the man himself.

For a period his work at Kidderminster was interrupted, and during that interval he served as a chaplain in the Parliamentary forces. Following this, he had a serious illness, and while lying in expectation of death, he meditated on what lay beyond. He began to write, and his writing grew into the well-known book, The Saints’ Everlasting Rest, which is looked upon as one of the classics of Puritan literature. It was after this that he resumed his lectureship at Kidderminster, for which he received about eighty or ninety pounds a year.

Baxter was not very favorable to Cromwell, but he was bound to admit that much blessing had resulted from the liberty that was enjoyed under the Commonwealth. All his life he endeavored to reconcile and unite. He never approved the execution of Charles I, and, like many others who were deceived by the specious promises of his son, he favored the Restoration. Baxter and his friends were full of hope that a compromise embracing the various elements in the Church might be arrived at. He was appointed, among others, chaplain to Charles II. He also attended the Savoy Conference, being the chief spokesman for the Puritans. A bishopric was offered him, but he declined it, preferring rather to resume his humble and poorly paid service among his beloved flock at Kidderminster.

His services as a preacher were in great demand; more than once he preached to large congregations in Westminster Abbey and also at Old St. Paul’s. He preached before Cromwell and Parliament and before Charles II himself. His address on this occasion has been likened to Paul’s to Festus, reasoning of “righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come” (Acts 24:25). The following brief extract gives the general tone of this bold and telling sermon.

“Princes and nobles live not always; you are not the rulers of the unmovable kingdom, but of a boat that is in a hasting stream or a ship under sail, that will speed both pilot and passengers to the shore. ... The inexorable Leveller is ready at your backs to convince you by unresistable arguments that dust you are and to dust you shall return. Heaven should be as desirable and hell as terrible to you as to others. No man will fear you after death; much less will Christ be afraid to judge you. ... Live as if you saw the glorious things which you say you do believe, that when worldly titles are insignificant words, when fleshly pleasures have an end, when faith and holiness will be marks of honor, when unbelief and ungodliness will be the badges of perpetual shame, and when you must give an account of your stewardship and shall be no longer stewards, you may then be brought by faith unto fruition and see with joy the glorious things which you now believe. Write upon your palaces and your goods that sentence: ‘Seeing then that all these things shall be dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy conversation and godliness, looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of God’ (2 Peter 3:11-12).”

The King remarked that Presbyterianism was no religion for a gentleman.

Until the Act of Uniformity in 1662, Baxter preached frequently in London to crowded congregations. When that Act was law, he left the Church with two thousand other ministers. The State Church was purged of its best elements. To those already outside, these were now added. Baxter of all people was no sectarian, but faithfulness to Christ and His Word would not allow him to remain. He now joined the large and growing band of Dissenters, who for the next twenty years were the objects of relentless persecution. In 1670 Baxter was arrested and sent to prison, but his wife was allowed to accompany him and look after him. Under the Declaration of Indulgence, 1672, he was granted license to teach, but he was soon in trouble again and only escaped prison by reason of illness. He continued to suffer from time to time. On one occasion in 1682, after the death of his wife, his goods were distrained upon to pay a fine he had incurred for preaching, even to the bed upon which he was lying ill. Two years later, though he had not preached in the interval, he was carried from his bed to court to answer a bond of £400 for his good behavior. In the following year, he fell into the cruel hands of the notorious Judge Jeffreys who mocked and insulted him in the most shameful manner. The charge was seditious writing based on something he had written in his Paraphrase of the New Testament. He was committed to prison where he stayed from June 1685 to November 1686. He was, however, well treated in jail. After his release he labored on, and when in 1690 illness no longer permitted him to go out of doors, he opened his house to all who were willing to come to family worship morning and evening. On the day before his death, he said to two friends, “I have pain; there is no arguing against sense. But I have peace; I have peace.” In his closing hours, he meditated much on Hebrews 12. He departed to be with Christ on December 8, 1691. He was one of those who, because they fear God, do not fear man.

Chapter 38

Those who have read John Bunyan’s account of his spiritual history in Grace Abounding will recall how he was attracted during his deep soul exercises to listen to the godly conversation of several women seated at their cottage doors. By this circumstance he was helped into a knowledge of the truth. It was a time when light as to the true character of the Church, as composed of all real believers, was entering many hearts, and many were led to meet apart from the forms and ceremonial of the established Church, a movement doubtless much fostered by the fact that many of the clergy were worthless as preachers and many led ungodly and even vicious lives.

“In 1650, in the town of Bedford, a few believers —twelve in number — after much prayer and exercise and seeking God’s guidance, gave themselves to the Lord and to one another and, unanimously choosing one of themselves as pastor, decided to meet together on simple Christian lines. The principle on which they entered into fellowship with one another and upon which they afterwards received those that were added to their fellowship was faith in Christ and holiness of life.”

It was to this little body of devoted Christians that these women belonged whose joyful conversation had so impressed him. Their first pastor, John Gifford, was a wonderful example of “a brand plucked out of the fire” (Zech. 3:2). He had been a Royalist officer during the Civil War and was a thorough man of the world, leading an utterly dissolute life. He was among a few who, after the victory of Parliament, were condemned to the gallows, but he escaped in an almost miraculous way. Suddenly he was convicted of sin by reading a Christian book and sought the company of the few Christians already referred to. They naturally feared him, as the early disciples did Saul of Tarsus, for, before his conversion, he so hated the gospel and the people of God that he had even contemplated killing one of the leading men among them. He now became, however, a preacher of the gospel he had so bitterly opposed.

In Grace Abounding, John Bunyan himself pays tribute to Gifford in the following terms:

“At this time I sat under the ministry of holy Mr. Gifford, whose doctrine of God’s grace was much for my stability. This man made it much his business to deliver the people of God from all those false and unsound rests that by nature we are prone to take and make to our souls. He would bid us take special heed that we took not up any truth upon trust, as from this or that or any other man or men, but cry mightily to God that He would convince us of the reality thereof and set us down therein by His own Spirit in the Holy Word.”

Under the unique circumstances of Cromwell’s Church Settlement, this little body of Christians were allowed to meet in the parish church of St. John’s in Bedford, and Gifford became the recognized minister, though he had never been ordained. In 1653 Bunyan became a member, and his name still appears in the church records. Gifford died two years later and was succeeded by a young man named Burton. Some extracts from the church records will serve better than any description to illustrate the scriptural simplicity which marked the proceedings of the little company then meeting in the parish church.

“At the meeting of the congregation at Bedford the 24th of the second mon: 1657, Sister Cooper’s desire of joyning with the congregation was considered, and bro. Burton, bro. Spensely and bro. Harrington were appointed to go to her, for the further satisfaction of the Church.

“26th of the 4th moneth, John Wilson’s desire of joyning with the congregation was mentioned, and it was agreed that he should give an account of the worke of grace in his soul, next meeting. Some brethren at Woollaston desiring to joyne in fellowship with us, it was agreed that before the next meeting a day should be set apart to seek the Lord concerning it. It was concluded likewise that the members of the Church of Christ in and about Steventon may breake bread with us and we with them as the Lord shall give opportunity.”

“1659. 29th of the 10th moneth. It was appointed that every monethly meeting some of our brethren, viz. one at a time, to whom the Lord may have given a gift, be called forth and incouraged to speake a word in the Church for our mutuall edification, and that one of the brethren be desired to begin next meeting. And that every 3rd monethly meeting especially all our brethren and sisters be desired to come together without any delay or excuse. We are agreed to set apart the 5th day of the next weeke to seeke the Lord especially upon the account of the distractions of the nation.

“1660. 29th of the 1st moneth. We are agreed considering our bro. Burton’s weakenes to entreat our bro. Wheeler, bro. Dunne, bro. Gibbes and bro. Breeden to give their assistance in the work of God in preaching and breaking of bread once every moneth or 3 weekes one after another on the Lord’s dayes during the time of his weakenes.

“The 16th day of the next mon: was appointed to be spent in seeking God with reference to the affaires of the nation and the weakenes of our bro. Burton.

“25th of the 2nd moneth. We are agreed that our meetings on the 2nd day of the week begin henceforth at noone and that the time be spent in prayer.

“It was ordered according to our agreement that our bro. Bunyan be prepared to speake a word to us at the next Church meeting and that our bro. Whiteman faile not to speake to him of it.

“At a meeting of the Church the latter part of the 6th moneth (Sept.): Whereas the Lord hath taken to himself our teacher bro. Burton, we are agreed to set apart the 17th of the next moneth to seek to the Lord for direction in our advising and considering of a Pastor or Teacher suitable for us, and that our friends be very earnest with the rest of our brethren and sisters to give their assistance in this worke according to our duty.

“We desire our bro. Harrington, bro. Coventon, bro. John ffenne to take care to informe themselves of a convenient place for our meeting so soone as they can (we being now deprived of our former place) and reporte it to ye Church.”

In 1655, only two years after he had joined, Bunyan was asked to give a word of exhortation in one of their gatherings. Although they had a pastor, there were evidently opportunities for others who had the gift of preaching and teaching to exercise their gift. Thus John Bunyan began, and it was evident to all that he had been endowed by the Holy Spirit as a preacher and teacher. People soon came in hundreds to hear the converted tinker preach. About this time he had a controversy with the Quakers, whose vague notions and confusion between the work of the Holy Spirit and the voice of conscience greatly troubled him. He was thereby led to write his first book, Some Gospel Truths Opened, in which he inveighed against the mysticism of Quakerism. Bunyan’s preaching activities soon extended into the neighboring counties. Burton, who had succeeded Gifford, was a weak man physically and only lived till 1660. That was the year of the Restoration, and the little company, being Non-Conformists, were turned out of the parish church. The local justices did not wait for government direction. They ordered the restoration of the Book of Common Prayer. Bunyan was among the first to suffer. A warrant was issued against him and he was arrested as he was about to take a meeting at Lower Samsell, a hamlet about thirteen miles from Bedford. He was warned and advised to escape, but he declined to do so, feeling it would set a bad example. The company had already gathered. He began with prayer. Just as they were opening their Bibles, the constable entered. His arrest was not really legal, as the Act of Uniformity had not yet been passed. Having been brought before the magistrate, he was placed under bond not to preach until he appeared before the coming Sessions, but as he declined to give such a promise, he was immediately committed to the county prison at Bedford.

Friends made an unsuccessful effort to secure bail from Mr. Crompton, the magistrate at Elstow. He was fully resigned, for he “tells us that before going to meet the justice, he first committed the matter absolutely to the Lord and left it in His hands. If he might do more good by being set at liberty, he asked that liberty might be granted. But if not, then God’s will be done, for he was not altogether without hope his imprisonment might be the awakening of the saints in that country. Having thus, in all simplicity, committed the matter to God, there came into his heart that inward peace God ever gives to trustful souls. When he found from his jailer that Mr. Crompton had refused the bail, he was not at all daunted, but rather glad and saw evidently that the Lord had heard him. ‘Verily, at my return,’ says he, ‘I did meet my God sweetly in prison again, comforting of me and satisfying me that it was His will and mind that I should be there.’ He wrote these words immediately on returning to the prison chamber, and adds, ‘Here I lie waiting the good will of God to do with me as He pleaseth, knowing that not one hair of my head can fall to the ground without the will of my Father who is in heaven; then let the rage and malice of men be what they may, they can do no more and go no farther than God permits them, and even when they have done their worst, we know that all things work together for good for them that love God.’”

His case came up for trial at the Quarter Sessions in January 1661. He was indicted for “devilishly and perniciously abstaining from coming to church to hear divine service and for being a common upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles to the great disturbance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the King.”

Having confessed to meeting with his friends for mutual help and encouragement “when they had enjoyed the sweet comforting presence of the Lord among them,” he was ordered to go back to prison for three months. If he did not then submit, he would be banished from the realm. If, after banishment, he was again found in the country without permission, he would be hanged.

As he declined at the end of his term of imprisonment to give any promise to discontinue meeting with his brethren or cease preaching, he was remitted to prison and there stayed for twelve years. At the coronation, many evildoers were released, but Bunyan was not among them. The Barabases were freed; the followers of Christ were kept in prison. His poor wife made desperate and pathetic appeals for his release, pleading she had four small children who could not help themselves, one of whom was blind, and they were without support save for charity, but these appeals fell on deaf ears.

Bunyan took with him to prison two books, the Bible and Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. And what were his feelings in those years of confinement, separated from his beloved family and his brethren? He has recorded them himself: “I never had in all my life so great an inlet into the Word of God as now. The Scriptures that I saw nothing in before are made in this place to shine upon me. Jesus Christ also was never more real and apparent than now. Here I have seen Him and felt Him indeed. I have seen that here that I am persuaded I shall never, while in this world, be able to express. I never knew what it was for God to stand by me at all turns and at every effort of Satan to afflict me, as I have found Him since I came in hither. As being very tender to me, He hath not suffered me to be molested, but would with one scripture and another strengthen me against all, insomuch that I have often said that were it lawful, I could pray for greater trouble for the greater comfort’s sake. Many more of the dealings of God towards me I might relate, but these out of the spoils won in battle have I dedicated to maintain the house of God.”

He was not idle in prison. He made laces for his own support and to help to provide for the necessities of his family. He was not entirely alone either. At one time, there were as many as sixty Dissenters in the jail. To some, too, who were allowed to bring their affairs before him, he became a spiritual counselor. Then there were brief periods of liberty. He was granted several weeks of freedom at one time, due to the intercession of persons of influence. It was at such a time he wrote Grace Abounding. However, he was again imprisoned. During the first six years of imprisonment, he wrote nine books. Pilgrim’s Progress, the work which has made his name famous, appears, however, to have been written during a short term of imprisonment in 1675, some years after the first twelve years had been completed.

As already indicated in these pages, the period of Bunyan’s imprisonment was a time of suffering for those of God’s people whose light kept them apart from the State Church. Paid spies received £7 or £8 — even as much as £15 — for a single conviction. Official records show that many hundreds of Independents and Baptists in Bedford and adjacent counties were imprisoned.

In March 1672, the King’s Declaration of Indulgence was proclaimed. Meanwhile, Bunyan had already enjoyed some liberty, and his brethren in Bedford contemplated appointing him as their pastor. The relative minute in the church records is very interesting. It reads:

“At a full Assembly of the Church at Bedford (Jan. 21, 1672), after much seeking God by prayer and sober conference formerly had, the Congregation did at this meeting with joint consent (signified by solemn lifting up of their hands) call forth and appoint our brother John Bunyan to the pastoral office or eldership, and he, accepting thereof, gave up himself to serve Christ and His Church in that charge and received of the Elders the right hand of fellowship.”

On the same occasion, the names of others among them are recorded as men whose gifts and calling to the ministry and service of the Church were recognized and approved. Under the authority of the new Declaration, a license was obtained for a meeting room (actually a barn) in Mill Lane, Bedford.

Bunyan speedily became a recognized leader in the district, his influence extending to the borders of the neighboring counties and even to London itself. When he applied for his own license, he applied also for licenses for twenty-five other preachers and thirty other buildings in Bedfordshire and the neighboring counties. In the application, the companies requiring these places were called Congregational. The premises included upper rooms, barns, malting floors, gardens, houses, buildings in orchards, halls belonging to public companies, and even chambers in ruined monasteries and cellars in old castles.

Bunyan was forty-four years of age when his twelve years of captivity ended, and save for a period of six months in 1675, his arduous services as a pastor, teacher and preacher continued without further interruption, though the reign of persecution lasted till the year of his death. From time to time he visited London, and a certain Charles Doe, who benefited greatly by his ministry there, left the following testimony concerning his services in the capital:

“When Mr. Bunyan preached in London, if there were but one day’s notice given, there would be more people come together to hear him preach than the meeting-house could hold. I have seen to hear him preach, by my computation, about twelve hundred at a morning lecture by seven o’clock on a working day, in the dark wintertime. I also computed about three thousand that came to hear him one Lord’s Day at London, at a town’s-end meetinghouse, so that half were fain to go back again for want of room, and then himself was fain at a back door to be pulled almost over people to get upstairs to his pulpit.”

In the long confinement in Bedford Jail, God formed and fashioned His servant for those last, fruitful sixteen years, the full results of which are known only to Him. His best known work, Pilgrim’s Progress, needs no introduction. Among Christian books, none has been more widely read and appreciated. His Holy War, though not so well-known, is a remarkable book. Grace Abounding is a moving story of God’s dealings with his own soul. In all, he wrote sixty books, a remarkable achievement for one who had had only scanty educational advantages, but they were all on subjects he had himself learned in the school of God.

In the very year when James II fled and the advent of William and Mary put an end to the persecution of Non-Conformists, John Bunyan rested from his labors. His last service was an errand of mercy to bring about a reconciliation between an angry father and an erring son. Having successfully fulfilled his mission, when returning from Reading to London, he was overtaken by heavy rain and arrived drenched to the skin. He preached the following Sunday, became ill a few days later, and, after an illness of ten days, like Christian of whom he wrote, crossed the river and entered the Celestial City.

Chapter 39

On the Continent, the Reformed Churches had in the seventeenth century fallen into a lifeless state consequent upon their alliance with the world. Here and there evidences of life were to be found both within and without the established Churches. Our object is to trace and depict them, if but briefly and incompletely.

Early in the seventeenth century, an evangelical man named Teelink had promoted conversational Bible readings and prayer meetings among believers in Holland. Such activities have always been a source of blessing to Christians. They provide for the exercise of that corporate, spiritual life which is the very essence of Christianity and which the formal round of religious services and sermons does not provide. It was thus that the earliest Christians met and edified one another. Later, such activities were promoted by an earnest minister in the Dutch Reformed (Calvinistic) Church named Lodensteyn. He preached without choir and without vestments. He grieved much over the deadness of the Reformed Church. “The Reformed Church,” he said, “is outwardly flourishing and inwardly dead. It has a worldly piety and an outward zeal for the worship and service of God ... but it is in vain I labor to break through the unspeakable carelessness and coldness beneath. ... People take the outward, national Church for the true Church ... but of the spiritual Church, the hidden Body of Christ, they know nothing and care nothing for it.” He felt that God’s holy things were being profaned by the admission of unbelievers to the Lord’s supper. And while he would not join in the communion service for this reason, he felt it his duty to remain and preach in the Calvinistic Church at Utrecht, in spite of opposition and misrepresentation. He died in 1677, leaving a truly Christian testimony.

Labadie

In 1639 a French Jesuit named Labadie was dismissed from that order on account of health. God had used the Scriptures to open his eyes to the truth. He felt he was called by God to do a work of reformation. He began to preach Christ as the Saviour of sinners. In spite of denunciation by his enemies, God overruled events so that for a long time he continued to proclaim the gospel in France in the midst of the Romish system. The Bishop of Amiens invited him to preach in his diocese. He formed a company of awakened persons who met twice a week for prayer and for the study of the Word of God and who also read the Bible in their own homes.

He hoped the day would come when the Church would abandon all its rites and ceremonies and return to the simple worship of apostolic days. “Then,” he said, “they would all meet for reading the Word, for preaching and for prayer, and to take the Lord’s supper, both bread and wine, as in the days of the apostles.” The numbers thus gathered ran into hundreds.

Labadie was finally forbidden to preach and became a fugitive for four years. To his surprise, he found what he had been teaching was in agreement with the doctrines of the Protestants. He finally found his way to Geneva. Prevailed upon to preach in that citadel of Calvinism, his activities were so blessed that they produced a remarkable revival — a revival which, as in other instances, changed even the public aspect of the city. Later he accepted an invitation to labor at Middleburgh in Holland. His devotion to the truth, however, aroused the opposition of the Reformed Church. He preached the second coming of the Lord and used extempore prayer. On account of these and other scriptural views, he found himself opposed by the Reformed Church.

Finally he came to the conclusion that his lifelong ideal of a restoration of the apostolic Church could only be reached by separation from all the then existing systems, Catholic or Protestant. So he left the Church. A new community was formed of his followers. They were banished from Middleburgh and went to Veere. Persecution threatened, so he removed to Amsterdam. Not long after, there were sixty thousand in Amsterdam and many in other towns who formed communities in separation from the Reformed Church on the grounds that they could not partake of the Lord’s supper with unbelievers. Labadie and some of his followers finally found refuge in Altona (Denmark), where they began to meet and break bread on the simple lines of apostolic days. There he and his company shared a communal life. After Labadie’s death, the company removed to Wiewart in Holland. A writer well versed in the history of those times says, “To Labadie and his followers may be traced many a stream of living water flowing yet through dark and dry places in Holland and in Germany. Like Ridley and Latimer in England, Labadie lighted a candle which will never be put out till the Church is called up to be with Christ.”

“For about fifty years the community held together, though dispersed into distant corners of the earth. Labadie’s widow, with a few more, went to Surinam, where her brother was governor, and there began the first Protestant mission recorded in history. It came, however, to an untimely end.”

Philip Spener

Labadie influenced, among others, Philip Spener, who in turn was much used of God to revive the dying embers of faith in Germany. What is called the Pietist movement in Germany was largely the result of Spener’s work. Born in 1635, Spener was brought up under the influence of the pious Countess Agatha of Rappolstein, who had been led by the troubles of the Thirty Years’ War to turn to God. God worked in Spener’s heart while still a lad. When a young man, he spent some time in Geneva where Labadie was preaching, and his heart was stirred with a burning desire for the restoration of the simplicity of faith and worship in his own country. He became a public preacher at Strasbourg in 1662 and from 1666 at Frankfort-on-Maine. In 1694 the name of Pietist was first given to the awakened Protestants in that city. It was coined as a term of reproach. An extraordinary awakening followed in the beginning of the eighteenth century, traceable largely to Spener and those who were blessed through his means.

The Counts of Wittgenstein had for long welcomed Huguenot refugees fleeing from the awful persecutions in France which exiled hundreds of thousands of these sorely-tried believers. To this city of refuge other persecuted Christians — Labadists, Anabaptists and Pietists — found their way. Early in the eighteenth century, Count Casimir, having finished his education with a period of foreign travel during which he had been soundly converted, returned and took control of the family domain. Although among the motley crowd of refugees who settled in this region there were many extremists and fanatics, there were, on the other hand, many earnest, zealous Christians, and this little territory became “the center and hearth of a mighty awakening which spread through the whole of western Germany from the Alps to the North Sea — which gathered together the children of God who were scattered abroad, scattered broadcast spiritual food, and was watered everywhere by showers of spiritual blessing.”

It was then that the martyrs and preachers in southern France died in multitudes among their native mountains or were driven from their homes to begin their lives afresh in foreign lands. The blessed hope of the Lord’s second coming, which seemed all but forgotten during the long ages since the apostles, began to be revived among the Pietists. There was with them, too, a fervent desire for the conversion of God’s ancient people, the Jews, hitherto held in hatred and contempt by Christians everywhere.

A. H. Francke

A feature among the Pietists was their zeal for the study and distribution of the Scriptures. A. H. Francke, professor of oriental languages, went to Halle University and made it the center of the Pietist movement. He started Bible classes and organized a school for poor children and then an orphanage. A printing press, which had been started by Baron von Canstein, came into his hands, and was employed for printing Bibles and New Testaments, which were distributed all over Europe and America.

From Halle issued some of the first missionaries since Reformation days. In 1705 two Halle students, Ziegenbalg and Putschau, were sent, under the auspices of the King of Denmark, to the Danish settlement in India. Ziegenbalg translated most of the Bible into Tamil, and a number of natives were converted. Halle for many years was a focus of evangelical activity and its influence extended far and wide.

Ernest Von Hochman

One of the fruits of the Pietist university of Halle was the conversion of Ernest von Hochman, a nobleman’s son. One day, when out hunting, he was led by a curious circumstance to dedicate himself entirely to the Lord’s service. Thenceforward he labored ardently for Christ. During an outbreak of persecution against the Pietists, he found refuge at Wittgenstein. There he built himself a little hermitage in the woods where he lived much alone, but preached and taught in the castles of the counts. Having been used to the conversion of one of the countesses, he was driven from the territory by her enraged husband. Thereafter, for ten years or more, he traversed the whole of western and northern Germany with several companions, holding meetings in houses, farmyards, fields and forests, which were attended by great crowds.

At times his soul was stirred within him as he heard blind leaders misleading their congregations from the pulpit, and he would stand up and publicly rebuke them. On a number of occasions he was put in prison. From the prison of Nuremberg he wrote, “My heart can find rest in nothing, but only in the one only love, the love of Jesus, and he who once has tasted what it is will lose all taste for the things of this world. The Lord Jesus will henceforward do with me as He will, come what may. I have given myself up to the service of my gracious Lord, and His I remain. I shall find no better Lord and Master, turn where I will.”

His journeys through Protestant Germany much resembled the activities of Wesley thirty years or more later. There was much opposition from the clergy and mobs who pelted him with mud and stones, but there were many conversions. Unlike Wesley, he withdrew from the Churches, for he said there was no evidence left of true worship either among the Lutheran or the Reformed. He held that the true Church consisted only of living members of Christ. When asked what religion he belonged to, his answer was, “We belong to Christ, the Head of the Church, and not to any sect.” He was forbidden to preach, but the people only came in greater numbers to hear him. He departed to be with Christ in 1721. The day before his death, he said to a visitor, “All vanishes; only Jesus remains, and in the darkness there is light.”

Gerhardt Tersteegen

Another shining light in these dark days in Germany was Gerhardt Tersteegen. His father, an earnest Christian, had carried on a voluminous correspondence with awakened Christians in Holland and Germany. Companies of Labadists were numerous in Meurs and the neighboring towns. His father died when Gerhardt was only six. He made rapid progress in his studies, but owing to lack of means had to go into his brother-in-law’s business at Mulheim. This town was the center of a great spiritual revival in the early eighteenth century; singing was to be heard everywhere; hymns and sacred songs were on the lips of the workpeople in the town and the laborers in the fields. Almost everyone read Christian books in their spare moments during the working day. So it was when Gerhardt arrived there, and his heart was touched with a longing to share the joy around him. An awakened conscience made him unhappy, but he still clung to the world. However, he began to attend the conventicles and listened to the earnest preachers like von Hochman who visited the town. It was not till 1717 when he was twenty years old that the light of God broke into his soul. He commenced business for himself, living and working alone, reading and studying much, and among his studies were the books of Jacob Boehme, a wild visionary whose mysticism poisoned many minds.

A long period of darkness and depression and physical weakness followed. The clouds of mysticism obscured the light of the knowledge of God. The prince of darkness was very active at that time. The Reformed Churches were temples of dry theology, filled with self-righteous Pharisees, while the philosophy and vain deceit that characterized the Age of Reason were sowing abroad the seeds of doubt and scepticism. There was a third kind of delusion: false prophets — wild enthusiasts — abounded, whose teachings and behavior were lying caricatures of “pure religion and undefiled” (James 1:27). It was these last who, for a time, influenced the tender, highly-strung, sensitive mind of Gerhardt Tersteegen. But the clouds at last rolled away, and with the eyes of his heart Tersteegen saw “the King in His beauty” and beheld “the land that is very far off ” (Isa. 33:17). The effect was to produce an act of complete surrender to the Lord. He wrote his covenant of self-dedication to His Master in his own blood — a strange and unnecessary extravagance it may seem to us — but He who knows the heart would value even such a token at its right value. Thenceforward he never turned back. This was in 1724.

For a short time, he earned board and lodging as tutor to his brother’s children, but following the counsel of a wise friend, he and another Christian worked together as ribbon weavers. They lived together for forty-four years. His life was one of self-denial and service to others for Christ’s sake. He now began to write those wonderful songs and hymns for which, as an author, he is unique. He has been called the foremost master of spiritual song. There was at this time a wonderful gospel work in Mulheim, and Gerhardt Tersteegen emerged from his retirement to become a powerful preacher and guide of souls. He accepted the Holy Scriptures as the inspired and infallible Word of God, but from the year 1726 he firmly refused to join in the communion of the Reformed or the Lutheran Church. “That which is holy,” he said, “is given to dogs, and by the reception of so many who are known to be unworthy, the indignation of God is aroused against the country and the professing Church.” He upheld the ordinances of baptism and the Lord’s supper but did not accept the current teaching that they were necessary to salvation. “One cannot,” he said, “in these days, join oneself to any assembly or take the Lord’s supper anywhere without joining oneself, not to pious people, for they are rarely to be found in any of these congregations, but to the whole mass of worldly-minded people, who could only be a hindrance to blessing.” He added, “I will now go into another question, namely, if we join ourselves to this mixed multitude in any sect or denomination, we are separating ourselves (often unconsciously or unintentionally) from the love and fellowship of many pious people who do not belong to this sect or denomination. What should hinder us, beloved, from meeting together as Christians? Two or three make a complete assembly, in the midst of which the Lord has promised to be present.” He had acquired some knowledge of medicine and the properties of herbs, and he added the healing of the body to the care of souls. His services were in great demand and his time so fully occupied that in 1728 he gave business up entirely and lived by the sale of his books, his services as a physician being gratis. He became known far and wide, and his visits were more extended. “From Sweden to Switzerland, from Berlin to the lonely forests of North America, he sought out and found (by correspondence and by means of friends) ‘partakers of the heavenly calling’ (Heb. 3:1), and it was a great joy when he could add a new name to his ‘book of remembrance’ (Mal. 3:16).” Those whose names were thus recorded were remembered in his prayers. A great revival followed his first preaching, and his labors in following up and watching over the spiritual welfare of those awakened by his means were constant and arduous. Travel now occupied a great part of Tersteegen’s time. Roads were poor or non-existent in those days, and his journeys, like those of Wesley, were made on horseback. When conventicles were prohibited by the government in 1740, Tersteegen devoted himself to house-to-house teaching and letter-writing, besides the writing of books. His house was often beset with visitors from morning to night. Thus he labored, preaching and teaching and exhorting by word and by pen. He was a shining example of the Lord’s words, “He that believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water” (John 7:38).

The Pietist movement already spoken of had lost its power, like the Protestantism it sought to revive, and God used men like Tersteegen to bring in, once again, the water of life. Never strong, Tersteegen’s infirmities increased as old age came on. In his latter days he suffered much in body but bore his sufferings with much patience. On April 3, 1769, he departed to be with Christ. Space forbids our giving fuller details of the life of this truly remarkable Christian. He was a true follower of Jesus and one who was full of His Spirit. He left a precious legacy to the Church in his wonderful hymns and spiritual songs. A great multitude followed his body to the grave.

Chapter 40

The world in the eighteenth century was relatively prosperous as far as material things were concerned. It was an age of scientific discovery and commercial development. These advantages were enjoyed by the few; the masses still remained, to a large degree, in poverty and ignorance. It was an era of comparative peace; wars there were, but they were fought mainly by professional soldiers, and until the French Revolution, there was no widespread desolation as in the previous century.

The great revival of the sixteenth century had spent its force; the Puritan fervor of the previous century had cooled down. Like the Church of the fourth century, Protestantism had allied itself with the world till, as salt that has lost its savor, it no longer checked the growing corruption.

Rome was victorious on the Continent, though in Britain she had suffered complete eclipse. In Germany, many of the Lutherans had been won over. In Poland, she had almost vanquished Calvinism. She had achieved great success in Holland, while in Spain Rome was without a rival. In the New World, Romanism had spread like a fire; the Jesuits had been very successful in Canada. The magnificent churches of Central and South America testified to their progress there. The Indians of Mexico had become worshippers of the Virgin Mary. Rome was also vigorously pursuing her missionary work in China, India and Ceylon. Even the Eastern Church was being invaded, and the Russians in Poland bowed to the Pope, while retaining their ancient ritual. The Huguenots had been driven from France; the remnant which remained was being murdered, tortured, dragooned or enslaved. Efforts had been made indeed to restore the Romish Church to the somewhat purer standards of an earlier age and to limit the power of the Pope, but they had failed. Rome shared, too, in the general secularization of religion. A remark made by Louis XVI, after listening to a sermon by a popular Roman Catholic preacher of the day, gives a clue to the prevailing tone. “If the abbé had only said a little about Christianity, there is no subject he would have left untouched.” The Jesuits had become so powerful that they were suppressed in 1773 by Pope Clement XIV. Though dissolved as a corporation, they continued to exist as an underground organization and were revived in the next century.

In the Reformed Churches of Europe, terrible decay had set in, and Arianism and Deism had become rampant. The god of the Deists was the god of nature, not the God who had been declared by Christ. Revelation was denied, and with the denial Christianity itself was thrown overboard. Those who argued against the Deists argued from reason rather than Scripture. In trying to defeat the Deist on his own ground, instead of relying on the Word of God, which “is quick [living], and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword” (Heb. 4:12), the Christian apologists used human reason as their weapon. The mind of man was made the sole arbiter in matters which are outside its range. The Deists were aggressive; they attacked not only the Old Testament, but every vital element in Christianity. This enthronement of the human mind has given to the eighteenth century the title of the Age of Reason. A tree, said the Lord, is known by its fruit, and if the Age of Reason is judged by this simple and unerring test, it stands condemned as a corrupt tree. This philosophy and vain deceit, which began in England, spread to the Continent, where it worked like a fungus amid the decaying corpse of Protestantism. In Spain these ideas were suppressed by the Inquisition and in France by the government, but they spread underground and were one of the potent causes of the French Revolution. It has been said that it was these ideas working like a ferment in the minds of men —rather than the poverty of the people — which gave rise to the beginnings of that great upheaval. It is significant that, at the time of the Revolution, a girl was enthroned as the goddess of reason and accorded divine honors. Thus did the century of reason demonstrate its impious folly.

Christianity was mocked and ridiculed everywhere; skepticism reigned almost supreme. Theology was permeated with rationalistic ideas. Arianism and Socinianism were prevalent, particularly among the dissenting bodies, and many Non-Conformist congregations became Unitarian churches.

The Church of England shared in the general deadness. Many churches were only open a few hours a week, and Holy Communion, in some places, only took place a few times a year. Worship consisted of the recitation of prayer book formulas, while preachers were more concerned to answer the rationalists than preach the gospel, if indeed they were able to preach it. The aim of many was to appear learned and eloquent and to gain the approval of the educated among their hearers. Many others were lazy and devoted to pleasure, and many were given to drink. The old evil of plurality of livings still obtained. Rivalry between Whigs and Tories made the Church the sport of political interests. Bishops were appointed by the party in power and thus became subservient to the politicians. Moreover, they angled for the most remunerative posts, and the wealth of the bishops was a byword. The Anglican Church became a department of the Civil Service.

Blackstone, who made a round of the London churches, says the sermons were devoid of Christianity. Bishop Butler, speaking in the middle of the eighteenth century, said, “It is impossible for me, my brethren, to forbear lamenting with you the general decay of religion in this nation, which is now observed by everyone and has been for some time the complaint of all serious persons. The influence of it is more and more wearing out the minds of men, even of those who do not pretend to enter into speculations upon the subject, but the number of those who do and profess themselves unbelievers, increases and with their number, their zeal — zeal, it is natural to ask, for what? Why, truly for nothing, but against everything that is good and sacred among us.”

The general standards of morality were very low in the Age of Reason. Crime was rampant in England, ruffians frequented the streets, and it was positively dangerous to walk abroad at night. Highway robbery was frequent. The law exerted its severity in vain to suppress evil. Death was the penalty for a hundred different crimes, the prisons were full, executions were frequent, and excited crowds gathered to witness the deaths of those who swung upon the gallows. Gambling was indulged in by all classes. Gin drinking had become a national vice. One-eighth of the population were addicted to it and a tenth were engaged in selling it. Cockfights, bull-baiting and other cruel sports testify to the degraded taste of the population. The slave trade was at its height, and fortunes were accumulated at the expense of the blood and sweat of the hapless Negroes — men, women and children who were dragged from their native villages, packed like cattle in slave ships and sold into servitude wherein they were often treated with horrid cruelty.

Such were the fruits of the Age of Reason, an age which had inherited the glorious truths of the Reformation, which had the open Bible in its possession, but which had turned away from the light of Christianity to the darkness of atheism. Did it deserve any better fate than Sodom and Gomorrah? God, however, had not forgotten the world, if it had forgotten Him. Instead of pouring out judgment upon it, He opened the windows of heaven and poured out such an abundant blessing that faith and piety sprang up in this barren scene like the fresh growth from a parched land after a plentiful rain.

The gospel revival of the eighteenth century in Britain is one of the most remarkable in the history of Christianity. It bears the unmistakable marks of a sovereign operation of the Holy Spirit. Faithful and devoted men, whose names today are honored by Christians everywhere and to whom the world itself has rendered its tribute of recognition, claim our attention. They were the instruments God used — for it is God’s pleasure to work through men — but let us not forget that the power was divine. Let us give the glory to God who first formed the servants, fitted them for their task and endowed them with the power of His Holy Spirit.

If it was in Britain and North America that the gospel light shone most brilliantly at this epoch, it was not confined to these parts. On the Continent, a slow, silent work of revival had been going on since the previous century, which found expression in Pietism. This movement antedated the great revival in Britain but influenced it by means of the Moravians, who followed the Pietists.

Chapter 41

In this century there was a remarkable revival of a tiny remnant of those believers of whom an account has already been given in chapter 20, the scattered remains of the old Bohemian Church. It was through the instrumentality of Count Zinzendorf that this little company was revived and became the nucleus of what was afterwards called the Moravian Church. Among this body were many devoted men who counted not their lives dear for the Lord’s sake and contributed not a little to the revival of the eighteenth century.

Zinzendorf was born at Dresden in 1700. When six weeks old, his godly father, then on his deathbed, took his child in his feeble arms and consecrated him to Christ. God took account of it, and His work began early in the child’s heart. In an account of his early years, Zinzendorf said, “I loved the Saviour and had abundant communion with Him. In my fourth year, I began to seek God earnestly and to become a true servant of Jesus Christ.”

At ten years of age he was sent to the Pietist school at Halle, then under the control of Professor Franke, then to Wittenberg University, finishing his education with the customary period of foreign travel. While still a lad at school, he sought to bring others to Jesus and began to hold meetings for prayer and fellowship with those who were like-minded. He greatly desired to be a preacher of the gospel, but that was considered to be below the dignity of a count. He became King’s Counsellor at Dresden, and as he could not preach, he invited people to weekly meetings in his own rooms. Like Wesley, later, he had no intention of drawing people away from the Church but of providing for that fellowship with fellow-believers which is instinctive in the heart of the true Christian and which was not satisfied by the formal round of religious services in the Lutheran Church. He did not see that the established Churches, being an alliance between the Church and the world, could never provide the conditions in which the Holy Spirit unquenched and ungrieved can unfold in their fullness “the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him” (1 Cor. 2:9). Yet God in His grace gives help to all who desire to serve Him according to their understanding and with a pure heart, although their methods may contain much that is of the human mind.

His desire to help the poor and preach the gospel to them led him to buy an estate at Berthelsdorf. He resolved that, with the help of a pastor he brought with him, he would convert the village into a “garden of God.” “I bought the estate,” he said, “because I wanted to spend my life among the peasants and win their souls for Christ.” He succeeded in a large degree in this laudable desire.

About this time he came into touch with a remarkable man named Christian David, born in 1690, whose career lasted only thirty-two years. He was a native of Senftleben in Moravia. Brought up as a zealous Roman Catholic, he passed through deep exercise of soul. He studied the Scriptures but did not find peace. Going to Berlin, he joined the Lutheran Church, but he found it very stiff and formal. The cold, orthodox Protestants had only mockery for the spiritual longings of a thirsty soul. He next joined the army, and in Silesia he was brought into touch with a Pietist clergyman through whom he was led to find the Saviour. Among the Pietists he found the spirit of practical fellowship. At the risk of his life, he made his way back to his native Moravia and preached to the secret Protestants in that Papist country. His services were greatly blessed.

At Fulneck in Moravia, there was a colony of German Waldenses, descendants of some who settled there as far back as 1480. He asked Count Zinzendorf’s permission to bring some of this persecuted body of Christians to his estate. They came and founded a little colony on a poor piece of land near Berthelsdorf. Others followed, and among them were descendants of some of the old Bohemian brethren who had been all but destroyed in the middle of the seventeenth century. One of the last of their leaders, Comenius, had prayed that God would raise them up again, and what followed did indeed seem like a resurrection. Thus began the famous settlement of Herrnhut. At first they were simply refugees from persecution who had settled as tenants on the Count’s estate, but difficulties arising, the Count was forced to intervene and insist on regulating the colony. The inhabitants accepted this intervention with good grace, and they became a quiet, well-ordered Christian community.

Among this little community, where all were professing Christians, discipline was very strict. No dances, no wedding breakfasts, no christening bumpers, no drinking parties, no funeral feasts, and no games were permitted. An evildoer, such as a drunkard, a thief or an adulterer, was expelled unless he gave evidence of true repentance. The whole population of the village had to obey their leaders as well as the law of the land. But they were compelled to attend the Lutheran Church, to take Holy Communion there, and to have their children baptized there. They lived, however, as a distinct Christian community, enjoying fellowship together in many ways. The whole of Sunday was occupied with religious services of one kind or another, beside the daily meetings. Like the early Methodists, who were to appear a few years later in England, they remained, for the time being, while retaining their own distinctive features, associated with the national Church, and Zinzendorf had himself ordained as a Lutheran minister. Opposition arose, and though no fault could be found by the authorities with the settlement at Herrnhut, the Count was banished from Saxony.

Nothing daunted, this extraordinary man, whose mind was ever active to devise ways and means of furthering the kingdom of God, began to plan more extensive operations. Settlements after the style of Herrnhut were established in other places. Moreover, these fervent believers began to turn their thoughts to the conversion of the heathen, and a remarkable missionary work began, which has continued to the present time.

Some went out and worked among the Negroes on the sugar plantations of the West Indies, others went to the frozen shores of Greenland or the frigid wastes of Labrador, others evangelized the Red Indians, and others took the gospel to the Kaffirs and Hottentots of South Africa whose Boer masters regarded them simply as cattle. Egypt, Persia, Mesopotamia, Ceylon, the Nicobar Islands, Surinam and other distant lands were visited by these ardent evangelists.

In 1740 a conference was held at Gotha, when a plan of operations was decided upon. They decided as a free body of Christians to work in conjunction with other Churches and care for scattered believers everywhere. Their plan was to begin what was called diaspora work, proclaim the gospel and unite believers in meetings for prayer and praise, working solely for the kingdom of Christ, without attempting to proselytize or interfere with the work of other Churches. These societies were to be separate from the Brethren’s Church. A society, of which there were many in those days, met in the house of a London bookseller named Hutton. Its members belonged to the Church of England. It became well-known because Wesley and others attended it when it met in 1738 in Fetter Lane. In 1742, for reasons which will appear later, it became a Moravian society in union with the Church of England. Of seventy-two members of this society, sixty-five went abroad later as missionaries.

The enemy, however, was busy sowing tares and in 1743, both in Germany and in England, a strange wave of fanaticism seems to have infected the body. Zinzendorf himself was carried away by it. Extravagant and unseemly expressions found their way into their hymns, and curious features of a ritualistic type invaded their meetings. This discredited the whole body, and many were scandalized by it. Wesley and others, who had been connected with them at first, broke away. Later, a purging process seems to have taken place and a measure of recovery. The inevitable trend towards a sectarian position took place. Zinzendorf’s idea of a Church within the Church did not please many of his followers. The refugees from Bohemia and Moravia, proud of their ancient traditions, insisted on establishing themselves as an independent Protestant denomination. A link still existed with the ancient Bohemian Church in Bishop Daniel Jablonsky, nephew of Comenius, the last of their old bishops. He ordained another bishop, and Zinzendorf himself became a bishop of the Church. In 1749 they were recognized by Act of Parliament in England and America. In the early days of the eighteenth-century gospel revival, three or four hundred little societies on the Moravian pattern were established in various parts of England, Wales and Ireland. Later, many of these meeting places and preaching halls passed into other hands.

A settlement on the Herrnhut plan was set up in Yorkshire at Fulneck, and similar settlements were founded in America, which were named Bethlehem, Nazareth, Salem and Lilitz. There were societies, too, in other places.

When rationalism was sweeping the Continent at the end of the eighteenth century, the gospel lamp was kept burning in many little societies of this character in which the Scriptures were read in various parts of Germany, France, Switzerland and Scandinavia. It has been claimed that they saved the Lutheran Church from sinking completely into atheism. In spite of all, they declined in power themselves and needed to be revived again in the nineteenth century. But at the beginning of the nineteenth century, there was hardly a breath of life anywhere on the Continent of Europe.

Chapter 42

Separatists from the Church of England had existed from the days of Queen Elizabeth. They were, as we have already seen, either Baptists or Independents (Congregationalists). When the Act of Uniformity came into force (see page 220), two thousand non-conforming clergymen who held Puritan views were driven out of the Establishment. This blow, which impoverished the Church of England, enriched the Dissenters. The form of worship of the three main bodies differed very little in practice; a vast variety of sects did not then exist. These Non-Conformists, being excluded from the universities, set up higher educational establishments of their own, called academies. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, there existed about twenty such institutions, where the standard of teaching was excellent and they had a sound Christian background. To one of these, at Kibworth Harcourt, Philip Doddridge was admitted in 1719. He might be called the last of the Puritans, for in his lifetime the characteristics of that movement, which was slowly losing its force, were superseded by the mighty tide of the evangelical revival. Doddridge was a man of great natural ability who had studied hard and whose heart God had touched so early in life that we have no record of his conversion. Acquainted with the gospel from childhood, he had nothing to unlearn. His maternal grandfather had been driven from Bohemia for the sake of the gospel. The reality of his faith even as a boy is witnessed to by an entry made in his journal at thirteen years of age when his father died. “God is an immortal Father. My soul rejoiceth in Him; He has hitherto helped me and provided for me. May it be my study to approve myself a more affectionate, grateful and dutiful child.”

The head of the Kibworth Academy was John Jennings, a man of faith and culture, and it was his desire that Doddridge should succeed him as principal, which he did, but not at Kibworth, for when the time came, it was transferred to Northampton. At the pressing invitation of the Independent Church in that town, Doddridge became their minister and at the same time principal of the Academy. He was then twenty-eight years of age. “His settlement at Northampton marked a new era in the life of Doddridge. About this time his soul came of age. All that was especially exalted or memorable in his ministry now began. He devoted himself to the service of the Saviour with such startled energy and intense concentration, was such a wonderful and manifold worker, and seemed to live so many lives at a time that from this point,” says one of his biographers, “we can only try to show what he was and what he did at the same period in different departments.” These details we cannot follow here, but we have a remarkable testimony from a friend and admirer named Barker who wrote to him, not long before he died, the following touching lines, which not only reveal the character of the man and his service, but give some idea of how he was valued by his contemporaries. The latter part of the letter, too, shows the deep spiritual sensibilities of the writer, who, while clinging with pathetic affections to a beloved leader, was prepared to say, “The will of the Lord be done” (Acts 21:14).

“Who shall instruct our youth, fill our vacant churches, animate our associations, and diffuse a spirit of piety, moderation, candor and charity through our villages and churches and a spirit of prayer and supplication into our towns and cities when thou art removed from us? Especially who shall unfold the sacred oracles, teach us the meaning and use of our Bibles, rescue us from the bondage of systems, party opinions, empty, useless speculations and fashionable forms and phrases, and point out to us the simple, intelligible, consistent and uniform religion of our Lord and Saviour? ... But I am silenced by the voice of Him who says, ‘Shall I not do what I will with My own? Is it not My prerogative to take and leave as seemeth to Me good? ... Both the vineyard and the laborers are Mine. I set them in work, and when I please, I call them and give them their hire.’ With these thoughts my passions subside; my mind is softened and satisfied. I resign thee, myself, and all to God, saying, ‘Thy will be done.’”

In the closing years of his life, he had grieved much over the lack of progress in his own sphere of labor. Yet he gladly recognized the rising tide of revival all around and wondered if God was pointing out some other sphere of labor, or “perhaps,” he said, “I am leaving the world, and God is weaning me from it.” This seems to have been the case, for not long after, he was advised to go to Portugal for his health, but soon after his arrival at Lisbon, in October 1751, the Lord took him to be with Himself. He was then only in his fiftieth year. Beside his pastoral work and his teaching, he left behind a number of writings, including the Family Expositor. Above all, he is best remembered by his hymns. He supported and unselfishly cooperated with the men God was using so mightily at that time in the evangelical revival.

Isaac Watts (16741748), a contemporary of Doddridge, is justly remembered for his hymns. The Calvinistic Churches, following Calvin’s own dictum, confined their singing to metrical versions of the Psalms, and the Church of England followed a similar rule. It is noteworthy that it was among those who preached the gospel of divine grace that hymns found their place. They began to be used at the beginning of the eighteenth century among Dissenters in Britain. They were already widely used among the Moravians. Every revival in the Church seems to have been accompanied by an outburst of spiritual song. It was so in Germany, in Luther’s day, and it is said that Luther’s hymns were a potent factor in the Reformation in Germany. Calvin, however, as we have noted, put an embargo on compositions outside the Scripture. The sole use of the Psalms produced a Jewish strain in Christian worship, which did not make sufficient room for the Spirit of the New Covenant which characterizes Christianity.

Watts broke away from tradition in this respect, and though some of his hymns are based on the Psalms, they are paraphrased in the light of the New Testament. Watts was a native of Southampton. His father was an Independent who suffered imprisonment for his faith on more than one occasion. Watts’ hymns were a great stimulus in his own generation and have been sung by untold thousands ever since. Among the best known are “When I survey the wondrous cross,” “Come let us join our cheerful songs” and “O God, our help in ages past.”

Chapter 43

In the dark days at the beginning of the eighteenth century, there grew up a number of so-called “religious societies,” promoted by serious-minded members of the Church of England, the members meeting for prayer, reading and mutual help. There were at one time thirty or forty such societies in London. The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge began thus and also the Society for the Promotion of the Gospel. One of these societies used to meet in the house of a bookseller named Hutton. It was not very bright and Hutton himself was, as yet, an unsatisfied seeker after life. One day came Peter Boehler, a missionary from Zinzendorf’s fervent band, passing through London on his way to Carolina. He preached to the Society. “With indescribable astonishment and joy,” says Hutton, “we embraced the doctrine of the Saviour, of His merits and sufferings, of justification through faith in Him, and of freedom by it from the guilt and dominion of sin.” This was the “Society in Fetter Lane where Wesley in 1738 ... felt his heart strangely warmed” as he listened to the reading of Luther’s commentary on the Epistle to the Romans.

In the year 1736 London was startled by the preaching of a very young clergyman. In the great city where the gospel was rarely heard and where the churches were largely empty, there was suddenly heard the voice of a youth of twenty-one proclaiming in confident tones and persuasive language the good tidings that stirred the world in the first century. People crowded to hear him — a most unusual thing in those days. They called him the boy preacher. It was, as it were, the first blast of a trumpet that was to arouse a slumbering Christendom and which was to reverberate throughout the land and reach the New World. It was the voice of George Whitefield, the first of a chosen band of heralds, whom God was calling to awaken men from the deep sleep of the eighteenth century. Soon other voices were to join his. Indeed, some were already being raised here and there, calling upon men to repent and believe in the gospel.

Spiritual giants were being prepared, who, like David’s mighty men, would break the power of the Philistines and engage in battle with the “universal lords of this darkness” (Eph. 6:12 JND), men mighty through faith to the pulling down of Satan’s strongholds. Armed with the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, and the shield of faith, they were rising up to compass the British Isles and cross the Atlantic, calling men and women everywhere to “repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ” (Acts 20:21). Two years after this, John Wesley and his brother Charles began their work, while Grimshaw, Berridge, Fletcher, Rowlands and Ingham — all Church of England clergymen whom God had awakened — began in the power of the Spirit to awaken others. Before long we hear of a peeress, Selina the Countess of Huntingdon, lending her wealth and influence to support the flowing tide of gospel activity. Men suddenly became aware of a powerful, nationwide movement influencing thousands of men and women and completely transforming their lives. The movement was not concerted by human counsels but by the Spirit of God. The revival, still mainly in the hands of the Church of England clergymen, was branded as enthusiasm, and leaders and followers were dubbed Methodists. Ridicule, contempt, opposition and persecution were launched against it. The bulk of the clergy angrily repudiated it. Their stale sermons and empty moralizings, prepared for the learned, polite and respectable in a very unrespectable age, drew sparse congregations, for the most part as wooden as the very pews on which they sat. But this new movement was not respectable. For the great of the land to be told they were poor, fallen sinners as much in need of salvation as the poor creatures who worked in mines and factories — this was more than their blue blood could bear. The clergy themselves, in some cases, stirred up the rabble to attack with violence the preachers of the gospel. As it was with Paul in the first century, so with the evangelists of the eighteenth.

As we have seen, the movement began with men in the Church of England. There was little outside of it. The dissenting bodies were, perhaps, on the whole, more dead than the Establishment. Be that as it may, before long thousands were turned from darkness to light and passed from death unto life. But whereby should their souls be nourished? Who was to feed these sheep? People crowded from miles around, for example, to hear Grimshaw of Haworth, in the wilds of Yorkshire. In their own parishes they could only hear the lifeless sermons of dead men. Fellowship, which is vital to the Christian, the study of Scripture and mutual edification are instinctive and essential needs of those who form the body of Christ. Where, gathered together in the unity of the Spirit, could such privileges be enjoyed and spiritual hunger be appeased? Where were such things provided for? Not in the Churches, with their formal ritual performed by unconverted clergymen. Wesley realized the need. He sought it even before his conversion, in the Holy Club at Oxford. Hence arose the Methodist societies. Zinzendorf had provided for it by his Moravian societies. The little groups of pious, if unenlightened, people, who had earlier formed societies in London and elsewhere, were groping in the same direction. The religious world called them Conventicles and had always striven to suppress them. It is a law of the body of Christ that its members seek each other in the unity of the Spirit. “We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren” (1 John 3:14).

At that time, indeed, conventicles were still against the law. Satan cannot prevent men being saved; he can and does, alas, prevent them enjoying the privileges of Christianity, and to keep believers from enjoying the spiritual joys of fellowship is a thing which he has often contrived to do in many ways. The Lord’s desire was “that they all may be one” (John 17:21); the devil’s intent is that they may be separated as much as possible and be made to disagree as to points of doctrine, to quarrel, and even to fight one another. Wesley’s societies were a compromise. They provided what the Church of England could not supply: fellowship and mutual edification. It was, however, a hybrid arrangement; converts were to remain members of the Church of England, on the one hand, and members of Methodist societies, on the other. But God is very gracious. A swift and sudden change — the setting up at once of a new sect — might have hindered rather than helped the progress of the gospel. The great end in view at this moment in the history of Christianity was the revival of the gospel — the setting forth of Christ as the Saviour of sinners and the preaching of repentance and remission of sins in His name.

The tide of revival began to flow with irresistible force. Wesley won over many thousands of the poorer classes; Whitefield, Romaine and that remarkable lady, the Countess of Huntingdon, influenced the upper classes. Others, like Grimshaw, Berridge, Fletcher, Cennick and Howell Harris, to mention but a few, were doing their part, but the harvest was great, and truly converted, ordained clergymen were very rare. But even if they could be found, their job was to stay in one place. Whitefield and Wesley were anomalies in the Church of England. They were behaving very irregularly. Actually, neither ever held a living in the Church. There was, in fact, no place in the establishment for the evangelist according to the scriptural pattern, whose duty is not to stay in one place but to follow, in principle, the Lord’s original command: “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15) — a command renewed specifically in the case of the great evangelist Paul. Whitefield, Wesley and their companions fulfilled a commission which they had received undoubtedly from the Lord Himself, and they went all over the land and across the ocean to America.

Because of these irregularities, the doors of the churches were often closed against them, and they then preached to vastly greater audiences in the open air. But the harvest increasing, other laborers must be found. The work of God could not be confined to college-trained and episcopally ordained clergymen. Laymen were available who, like the apostles themselves, were humble and unlearned men, but, nevertheless, men of God, divinely gifted and appointed evangelists. Wesley hesitated at this point. To choose as helpers in his work men who had not been ordained and had no university degrees — this would be another irregularity, another cause for reproach. But while he hesitated, his wise mother counseled him to take the course. The old bottles of the Establishment could not hold the new wine; inevitably it overflowed. To serve the 11,164 parishes in England, there were only 4,412 incumbents, and most of these were unconverted men.

It has been calculated that at the beginning of the century there was one professing Christian in twenty-four outside the pale of the Establishment; by the end of the century, the proportion was one in four. Of real Christians, who shall assess the proportion?

The Methodist denomination was a by-product of the evangelical revival. In the year Wesley died, there were over seventy thousand members of Methodist societies in Great Britain and over forty thousand in the then sparsely populated colony of America. The total number of adherents, that is, persons who were not registered members but attending the meetings, was estimated at 800,000 in Britain and America. Thousands more were attending the chapels of Lady Huntingdon’s Connection. Other converts remained in or joined the Anglican, Baptist or Congregational Churches, and it must be remembered that the total population of England and Wales was then only sixteen million. The churches, once half empty, were crowded. An additional evening service of a gospel character was introduced in many. Christians became exercised about the children idly roaming the streets on Sunday. Toward the end of the century, Robert Raikes and others opened Sunday schools where the rudiments of learning and Christian instruction were imparted. Wesley refers to 240 children in such a school connected with the Church at Bingley in 1784, while 200,000 children are said to have been attending Sunday schools in 1786.

We have considered the effect of the preaching. From conversion, powerful secondary results naturally follow. Converted fathers begin to pray and read the Scriptures to their families. They bring up their children in “the nurture and admonition of the Lord” (Eph. 6:4). No live Christian can fail to be an influence on his friends and neighbors. Every converted person is a potential evangelist. That is how the gospel spread in the first days of Christianity, in Reformation days, and thus in the eighteenth century also.

So the flowing tide of the gospel rolled irresistibly forward. Ecclesiastical opposition, the opposition of the press, public ridicule and mob violence failed to halt its progress. Even the dissensions among the leaders concerning predestination, which brought Wesley and Whitefield and others into conflict, failed to check its force.

In the Anglican Church, a powerful evangelical element developed. The dying embers among Dissenters were fanned into a fresh flame. The public conscience was affected. Society was purged of its grosser evils and of many degrading features which characterized the first half of the century. Great humanitarian reforms followed. The abolition of slavery in the British Empire and later in America are traceable to the influence of this revival.

But the improvement of the world is not the end of the gospel. God was turning men from darkness to light, from Satan’s power to Himself, and giving them a hope beyond the grave. Because they had another world before them, they lived better in the present. Because they were brought to know and love God, they loved their neighbor. The consciences even of unconverted men respond to the light. Hence, there is the widespread improvement in every class of society. But we must not lose a sense of proportion; the world was not converted. Opposition still remained. The archenemy viewed with dismay the overthrow of his strongholds and the release of so many of his prisoners. We may be sure he would do his utmost to spoil God’s work.

The fruits of the gospel are seen in the godly lives of the converts. The early Methodists were typical fruit. Unworldliness marked them; they did not attend the theater, and they read only religious or edifying books. They did not gamble or smoke, were temperate, if not abstainers, avoided fashionable dress, and sanctified the Lord’s Day. Such habits brought them into reproach, but they are the features of piety inculcated by Scripture and have always marked Christians who desire to live according to the apostolic words:

“The grace of God which carries with it salvation for all men has appeared, teaching us that, having denied impiety and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, and justly, and piously in the present course of things” (Titus 2:11-12 JND).

After Wesley’s death, Methodism became another denomination in Christendom. We are, however, not concerned with the history of denominations as such, but to trace the work of God wherever it can be found. The fruits of the great revival flowed on into the next century, and, to this day, we owe more than we can tell to its influence.

Historians are agreed that it was due to the influences of the revival that England escaped the deluge of revolution and war that engulfed France and finally the whole of Europe. In Europe, the atheism of Voltaire and others bore its evil fruit in a bloody revolution which led to the Napoleonic wars and all the untold misery which followed. In Britain, Wesley, Whitefield and others preached the gospel of divine love, and instead of a flood of hatred and wickedness and destruction, God opened the windows of heaven and poured out a blessing, the fruits of which remain with us today.

In the following chapters we shall briefly review the lives, the conversion and the service of some of the outstanding men whom God raised up as instruments in this mighty work.

Chapter 44

Among the many instruments which God prepared for the great evangelical awakening of the eighteenth century, George Whitefield first claims our attention. He was the first and, in some respects, the greatest of the great preachers of that remarkable epoch. He began to proclaim the gospel of God’s grace while the Wesleys were still struggling in the bonds of legality. He was the first to preach in the open air.

He has been called the Awakener, and it is interesting to see how God awakened him. Born at Gloucester in 1714, he had no advantage of wealth or birth. His mother owned the Bell Inn at Gloucester. After attending the local grammar school, we find him serving as potboy in his mother’s inn. The business was shortly taken over by his brother, and he went to Bristol and, while there, was affected by a sermon in the parish church. From this time his conscience was awake; he became painfully aware of the sinfulness of his heart. The Spirit of God had begun His work. At eighteen years of age, he went to Oxford as a servitor, where he had to divide his time between work and study. There he came into contact with the “Holy Club” which was being held in John Wesley’s Rooms in Lincoln College. Through reading a devotional book, he learned that Christianity does not consist in going to church and carrying out religious exercises but in a living link with Christ. This was but a foretaste, given to encourage him, for, like Luther and Bunyan and many others, he had to pass through a period of darkness in which he was to learn, as they did, that there was no hope in himself and that, as Paul says, “in me, that is, in my flesh, good does not dwell” (Rom. 7:18 JND). Days and weeks, he says, he spent prostrate on the ground, crying for deliverance from the evil thoughts which welled up in his heart and striving to reach peace and purity by outward austerities. By the severity of his bodily mortifications, he brought on a serious illness. While thus weakened and helpless in body, the Lord poured into his soul-wounds the oil and wine of divine grace. Let us hear his own words:

“About the end of the seventh week, after having undergone innumerable buffetings of Satan and many months’ inexpressible trials by night and day under the spirit of bondage, God was pleased at length to remove the heavy load, to enable me to lay hold of His dear Son by a living faith, and, by giving me the Spirit of adoption, to seal me, as I humbly hope, even to the day of everlasting redemption. But oh, with what joy, joy unspeakable, even joy that was full of and big with glory, was my soul filled when this weight of sin went off, and an abiding sense of the pardoning love of God and a full assurance of faith broke in upon my disconsolate soul.”

From then on, save for a few casual moments, he never lost the sense of peace and joy which filled his heart.

Recovering from his illness, he returned to Gloucester to recuperate. Full of his newfound joy, he was disappointed to find how few others shared it. However, he began to witness for Christ, living water began to flow out, and several young people were blessed who soon formed themselves into a society for mutual help.

Shortly after this, he took holy orders, a step which he did not enter upon without the deepest exercise. He was ordained by Bishop Benson on June 20, 1736. It was a very real matter to him, and he surrendered himself wholly to the Lord for His service. Only a week later he preached his first sermon. He was but twenty-one years of age and was called the boy preacher. From the first his preaching attracted crowds; it was as though God drew men to hear him. In Bristol, in London, wherever he went, crowds gathered to listen to him. Moreover, there was evident blessing. He insisted on new birth and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

He now went to Georgia, the first of many fruitful visits to America. There were many soldiers on the boat to whom he acted as chaplain. He gradually overcame their prejudice and won their respect so that they readily listened to his preaching. At times, the two other boats in the little convoy would draw alongside, and young Whitefield would preach to the crew and the passengers on board all three. Arrived in Georgia, his preaching quickly proved an attraction, and the places of worship soon became too small for the would-be hearers. His stay in Georgia was brief, and he left America on August 28, 1738, reaching England on November 30. On December 8 he went to London, where he was warmly welcomed. John Wesley hastened from Oxford to greet him. Charles Wesley had already found peace with God and had begun to preach; John had preached his notable sermon on salvation by faith in Oxford and had formulated rules for the Methodist societies in London. Opposition to Methodism was already apparent, and Whitefield found the churches, with a few exceptions, no longer open to him. God turned this to good account. Going from London to Bristol and Bath, he found the church doors closed against him. He now made his memorable stand on Hanham Mount near Bristol and preached in the open air to the poor colliers, a class of men who were practically heathen. Two hundred listened to his first preaching; on the next occasion, two thousand listened; then five thousand came to hear; finally, the numbers swelled to twenty thousand. He then went to Wales, where God had already been working through two devoted preachers, Griffiths Jones and Howell Harris. The former had, like Whitefield, already been forced to preach in the open air by the pulpits being closed against him. Fresh open-air activities followed in Bristol, and thence he proceeded again to London, but ere leaving he introduced Wesley to the people of Bristol, and within a few hours John Wesley had begun his great open-air work which was to continue all over the land for fifty years.

The pulpits of London being no longer available, Whitefield preached in the churchyard of Islington parish church. It was April 1739, and he was still only twenty-five years of age. The following Sunday he spoke at Moorfields, at that time a pleasure spot much frequented by Londoners. His text on that occasion was, “Watch therefore; for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of Man cometh” (Matt. 25:13).

Here are some moving sentences of appeal from that sermon: “Oh, do not turn a deaf ear to me. Do not reject the message on account of the meanness of the messenger! I am a child, a youth of uncircumcised lips, but the Lord has chosen me that the glory might be all His own. Had He sent to invite you by a learned Rabbi, you might have been tempted to think the man had done something. But now God has sent a child that cannot speak, that the power may be seen to be not of men but of God ... and I am persuaded if any of you should be set upon your watch by this preaching, you will have no reason to repent that God sent a child to cry, ‘Behold, the bridegroom cometh’ (Matt. 25:6). ... Let that cry ... be continually sounding in your ears, and begin now to live as though you were assured this was the night in which you were to be summoned to go forth to Him.”

We find him a little later preaching on Kennington Common and Hackney Marshes, upwards of ten thousand gathering to hear. Thousands were congregated to watch the races, yet, it is said, very few left the sermon to watch the races.

Such popularity, however, is but one side of the story. While many listened and many were blessed, others mocked. Opposition and ridicule pursued his steps. His youthfulness and success aroused jealousy. He was bitterly attacked by a London clergyman named Trapp. In a reply defending Whitefield, another clergyman, Robert Seagrave, wrote, “Nothing but obstinacy and envy can deny that a great reformation has arisen upon the manners of the age by the itinerants’ preaching.”

Another visit to America followed. A wonderful wave of revival swept Philadelphia, where thirty-two thousand heard him preach. New York was visited too with similar results, nor were the smaller places en route neglected, and even in the sparsely populated areas people came from far and near to hear him. The theme of his preachings centered around the great vital and foundational doctrines of new birth and justification by faith in the Lord Jesus. Apart from his labors as a preacher, he was in constant demand by hundreds who sought him out at his lodgings for help in all kinds of moral and spiritual difficulties. In Boston, the revival initiated by Whitefield became a flowing tide which continued for months in the hands of others. The interest he had aroused was followed up by local ministers and many little societies were formed.

Jonathan Edwards was preaching at this time, and many consciences were exercised. Souls thus awakened became ready recipients of the healing balm of divine grace which Whitefield poured into their hearts.

From now on, for thirty years, Whitefield’s life was one of incessant gospel labor. Up and down the land he journeyed, now across the Atlantic, now to Scotland, now in Ireland, always with the same effect — listened to everywhere by huge, attentive audiences, appreciated by all, and his labors attended everywhere by abundant fruit. A mighty work was going on; the great revival was in full spate. The Wesleys were now itinerating; others whose hearts had caught fire were joining the growing band of evangelists. The lords of darkness were retreating before the army of light.

This ceaseless labor began to tell on Whitefield’s health. “Had I strength equal to my will,” he wrote in a letter to his flock at Tottenham Court Road Chapel, “I could fly from pole to pole. Though weary and now almost worn out, I am not weary of my blessed Master’s service.”

Yet in July 1770, he could write of preaching every day in a circuit of five hundred miles. At the end of September, he preached his last open-air sermon at Newberry Port, Massachusetts. A friend had warned him he was more fit to go to bed than to preach. Whitefield assented, and then, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he said, “Lord Jesus, I am weary in Thy work but not of it. If I have not yet finished my course, let me go and speak for Thee once more in the fields, seal Thy truth and come home and die.” He then preached to a great multitude for several hours.

For several minutes he was unable to speak. Then he said, “I will wait for the gracious assistance of God, for He will, I am certain, assist me once more to speak in His name.” Then after a powerful preaching, he said, “I go, I go to rest prepared; my sun has arisen and by aid from heaven has given light to many. It is now about to set — no, it is about to rise to the zenith of immortal glory. I have outlived many on earth, but they cannot outlive me in heaven. Oh thought divine! I soon shall be in a world where time, age, pain and sorrow are unknown. My body fails; my spirit expands. How willingly would I live forever to preach Christ. But I die to be with Him.”

At six o’clock the following morning, a Sunday, following a severe attack of asthma, his spirit went to be with the Lord he loved and had so faithfully served.

For an account of his labors in the provinces, in Scotland and in Ireland, of his links with the godly Countess of Huntingdon, of his work in connection with the Savannah orphanage, and of his seven visits to America, we must refer the reader to one of his biographies.

Chapter 45

Of the men whom God raised up at this time, John Wesley was, in many ways, the most outstanding and certainly the best known. There is a tendency to attribute the evangelical revival and its fruits to him, in much the same way as the Reformation is attributed to Luther, but we shall miss the whole significance of both movements unless we see them as concerted and divinely coordinated movements of the Holy Spirit. Many of the instruments God used at this time owed nothing to Wesley, while he, himself, owed not a little to others.

John Wesley was a son of Samuel Wesley, rector of Epworth, a parish in a then desolate part of Lincolnshire inhabited by sullen and hostile folk, on whom he was not able to make much impression. Six-year-old John all but lost his life in a fire which may have been caused deliberately by the rector’s enemies. He was thus, in a literal sense, “a brand plucked out of the fire” (Zech. 3:2). His father was a pious man, but, like many more at that time, he lacked evangelical light. It was a religion of law and outward forms that prevailed in the Church of England in those days.

John Wesley’s mother was a woman of remarkable piety, laborious, strict in her life, and devoted to her husband and numerous family, whom she trained according to her light with meticulous regard for their moral and spiritual welfare, though herself a stranger to the free grace of the gospel. Writing to her son, when he had expressed his intention to take holy orders, she said, “I heartily wish you would now enter upon a strict examination of yourself, that you may know whether you have a reasonable hope of salvation by Jesus Christ. If you have the satisfaction of knowing, it will abundantly reward your pains; if you have not, you will find a more reasonable occasion for tears than can be met with in a tragedy.” And in another letter: “Whether God has forgiven us or no, we know not; therefore let us be sorrowful for ever having sinned.” Even at that time, Wesley’s instinct seems to have detected the defect in such a doctrine, for he wrote to his mother, “Surely the graces of the Holy Ghost are not of so little force as that we cannot perceive whether we have them or not. If we dwell in Christ and Christ in us, which He will not do unless we be regenerate, certainly we must be sensible of it. If we never can have any certainty of being in a state of salvation, good reason is it that every moment should be spent, not in joy, but in fear and trembling, and then, undoubtedly, in this life we are of all men most miserable. God deliver us from such a fearful expectation as this.” Wesley’s logical mind perceived the flaw in this kind of theology, but it was many years before the way of salvation was known to him. Such was the theology of William Law, who was, for some years, Wesley’s religious mentor. Law’s Serious Call is still regarded as a religious classic, but it is not Christianity. Law was born in 1686, was ordained in 1711, and was one of the Non-Jurors expelled from the Church for refusing to take the oath of allegiance to King William III. While at Cambridge, Law drew up a set of rules for his future conduct. The first rule was “to fix it deep in my mind that I have one business on my hands — to seek for eternal happiness by doing the will of God.” He had not learned that a fallen creature could not do the will of God. Salvation through the atoning sufferings of Christ was a doctrine which he declined. In his book, A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, we read, “To have a true idea of Christianity, we must not consider our blessed Lord as suffering in our stead, but as our representative acting in our name and with such particular merit as to make our joining with Him acceptable unto God.”

Salvation by law rather than grace thus colored Wesley’s early religious experiences, and with such views conscientiously held, he was ordained deacon in 1725. In the following year, he crowned a successful scholastic career by being elected Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford.

For eight years after this he was resident at Oxford. His brother Charles had gathered together a few seriously-minded fellow-students, who formed a little society for the study of the Greek Testament. This was at the end of 1729, and in the following summer they began to visit prisoners in the castle and poor people in the town, to send neglected children to school, to help the sick and needy, and to distribute Bibles and prayer books to those who lacked them. They quickly incurred ridicule and persecution and were called the “Holy Club.” But the nickname that stuck was “Methodists.” In one of his letters, the old rector of Epworth wrote, “I hear my son John has the honor of being styled the father of the Holy Club. If it be so, I am sure I must be the grandfather of it, and I need not say that I had rather any of my sons should be so dignified and distinguished than have the title of His Holiness.”

In spite of their austerities and strictly religious life, there is no evidence of any fruit from these activities, though no doubt it was good training.

In 1736, with his brother Charles and Benjamin Ingham, another member of the “Holy Club,” Wesley was chosen to go to Georgia, where he hoped to be a help to the Red Indians. But he had no gospel to preach. His mission was a failure, and his legality only got him into trouble. On the way, he had been profoundly impressed by the calm demeanor, during a severe storm, of a party of Moravians. They had no fear of death. He had. On landing, he consulted the Moravian leader, Spangenberg, who quickly detected Wesley’s lack. Two years passed, and he was glad to hasten home, disappointed and dispirited, saying, “I went to America to convert the Indians, but oh, who shall convert me?” He was coming to an end of himself. He was beginning to learn what Adam had to learn in the garden — that his fig leaves could not hide the nakedness of his fallen state in the presence of a holy God. But Wesley was truly hungering and thirsting after righteousness. On his return to London, he consulted another Moravian brother, Peter Boehler, who gave him good advice. One day he was impressed by the scripture, “Thou art not far from the kingdom of God” (Mark 12:34). That evening he attended the little society in Fetter Lane, then under Moravian auspices, and someone was reading Martin Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans. Of that moment he records, “I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation, and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.”

Having got so much help from the Moravians, he decided to go to Germany and see their way of life. He was greatly impressed. But he soon outgrew his teachers and found they were not without faults. Indeed, before long he severed his relations with the Fetter Lane society, though it became a pattern for the numerous Methodist societies afterwards established all over the land.

Wesley had found the great secret: faith in Christ alone and His finished work. He now began to preach with power and results. Whitefield had already blazed the trail, and the new style of preaching, which was not new but as old as Pentecost, raised a storm of opposition. The Anglican pulpits began to close against John Wesley. Whitefield, wishing to pay another visit to Georgia, begged Wesley to continue the successful work among the miners of Bristol. With much heart searching, Wesley finally consented. The results were tremendous; the blessing of God was evident. He now began that long career of itinerant preaching with which his name is associated. He devoted his life to this great work. His early rising and his methodical habits enabled him to put far more into every day than any ordinary man. North, south, east and west of the land — now to Ireland, now to America — he went rousing multitudes to a sense of their need of salvation and proclaiming to them the glorious gospel of the Saviour who died that men might live eternally. Little societies grew up in the wake of his preaching. Lay preachers were appointed to augment the gospel work, and pastors were chosen to care for the sheep.

There are few men in the annals of Christianity marked by such single-eyed devotion to the Lord and His service as John Wesley. Day in and day out, year after year for fifty years, he never ceased to labor in preaching, in teaching, in exhorting, and in caring for the numerous societies and the multifarious business that arose from them. He rose every day at four in the morning. Oftentimes he was preaching at five, and, strange to say, there were audiences to listen to him even at this early hour. He rode on horseback and used the hours so spent in reading. He traveled thus thousands of miles a year, preached innumerable sermons, wrote many books, and composed and translated a number of hymns. There seems indeed to be no end to the extent and variety of his labors. The company of the wise and great and wealthy he did not seek, but he was a friend to the poor and needy, and he determined to leave as little as possible behind him when he died.

At eighty-two years of age, his venerable form was to be seen trudging ankle deep in the snow through the streets of London collecting money to clothe the poor. His prayer was that he might work to the last, and this prayer was granted. He preached within a few days of his death. Two days before he died, he said, “There is no way unto the holiest but by the blood of Jesus.” The following day, he thought he would get up. Suddenly, he began to sing, to the surprise of all:

I’ll praise my Maker while I’ve breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my noblest powers,
My days of praise shall ne’er be past,
While life and thought and being last,
Or immortality endures.

Later he cried, “The best of all is, God is with us.”

The following morning, with the word “Farewell” on his lips, he fell asleep in Jesus. This was in 1791 when he was eighty-eight years of age.

Wesley’s Helpers

As the work grew and the societies multiplied, John Wesley gathered around him a company of lay preachers. Six years after the beginning of his work, Wesley had forty such helpers. By 1760, ninety were serving the gospel cause, besides many local helpers. Fifty chapels were then in regular use. The societies met weekly and classes of twelve persons were formed for mutual help under the guidance of a leader.

The first of the lay preachers was Cennick, who afterwards joined Whitefield. Maxfield was the second. One of the most gifted was Nelson, a stonemason of Yorkshire. He was converted through Wesley’s preaching and became a bold, fearless evangelist. He had to face tremendous opposition. An attempt was made to stop him by illegally pressing him into the army. Lady Huntingdon procured his discharge. Another remarkable helper was an Irishman named Walsh, who was much used in his own land. He was a most spiritual man and seemed to breathe the atmosphere of heaven.

The preachers were allotted circuits which were hundreds of miles in circumference, and they traveled as much as forty miles a day, usually on horseback, preaching two or three times daily. They were, for the most part, very poor and received only very meager support. Only devotion to the Lord could have induced such men to labor hard and continuously without any material reward. “They swam through floods, wandered whole nights on moors and wastes, and were sometimes almost engulfed in bogs. Highwaymen came to let them pass unmolested, for earlier encounters had shown they possessed nothing but a few tracts and a fixed determination to pray for and with their molesters.”

Charles Wesley

Charles Wesley was four and a half years younger than his brother. When a lad of eighteen years, he received an offer from Sir Garrett Wesley, who owned large estates in Ireland, to become his adopted son and heir. He declined. The young man who was adopted in his place became father of the Duke of Wellington.

After training at Oxford, Charles Wesley, like his brother John, was ordained and, in 1735, as secretary to General Oglethorpe, went to Georgia at the same time as his brother. Like John, he came under the influence of the Moravians.

At Whitsuntide in 1738, he was lying ill in the house of a poor mechanic named Bray, of whom he said, “He knows nothing but Christ.” Charles Wesley was full of doubts and fears. Longings after salvation filled his soul, but he had no peace. Bray’s sister, a Mrs. Turner, had had a dream in which the Lord had told her to go and speak a word of comfort to Charles Wesley. How could she, a poor woman, speak to a learned clergyman about his soul? But the command was imperative, and, after much hesitation, she obeyed. Creeping up to the door of his room, she called out, “In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, arise and believe, and thou shalt be healed of all thy infirmities.” To the sick man, it seemed as though the Lord Himself had spoken. It was, however, a woman’s voice, and he thought he knew whose it was. He rang the bell, but the person in question was out. He opened his Bible, and the first words he saw were, “And now, Lord, what wait I for? my hope is in Thee” (Psa. 39:7), and then, “He hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: Many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord” (Psa. 40:3) — words of prophetic significance, to be fulfilled in a remarkable way! He now found peace with God. The following day he wrote the hymn:

Where shall my wondering soul begin?
How shall I all to heaven aspire?
A slave redeemed from sin and hell,
A brand plucked from eternal fire;
How shall I equal triumphs raise?
How shall I sing my Saviour’s praise?

Three days later his brother John arrived with a troop of friends to tell the news of his own conversion. With tears of joy streaming down their faces, they sang together Charles’ newly composed hymn.

Two months later, Charles Wesley became curate of Islington Church. But the gospel was not wanted, and his services were quickly dispensed with. He soon became companion to his brother John in his itinerant evangelism, preaching to great crowds and facing the storms of opposition and reproach.

At the mature age of forty-two, he married Sally Gwynne, a woman much younger than himself. Their marriage was a very happy one. As the cares of a family came upon him, he became less free for countrywide evangelical work, and his activities were confined to Bristol, where he lived till his removal to London in 1771.

Though himself a sensitive, well-educated and highly cultured man, his heart went out to the most depraved of sinners. Soon after his conversion he wrote:

Outcasts of men, to you I call,
Harlots and publicans and thieves!
He spreads His arms to embrace you all;
He came the lost to seek and save.
Come, O ye guilty creatures, come,
Groaning beneath your load of sin!
His bleeding hand shall make you room,
His open side shall take you in.
He calls you now; invites you home.
Come, O my guilty brothers, come.

This was no mere sentiment, for shortly after this he preached to ten criminals condemned to the gallows, boldly assuring them of pardon through repentance and faith in Christ. Near the end of his life, on April 28, 1785, in answer to his prayers, nineteen malefactors, condemned to be hanged that day, died penitent.

Charles Wesley was one of the greatest hymn writers of any age. His poetic compositions number sixty-five hundred, among which are such gems as “Jesus lover of my soul” and “Oh for a thousand tongues to sing.” At the beginning of the eighteenth century, hymn singing in the Church was unknown, except among some of the more advanced Dissenters. Metrical versions of the Psalms only were allowed. Even Isaac Watts’ paraphrases of these Psalms were regarded with suspicion. Throughout the Church’s history, revival of the truth has been accompanied by an outburst of song. Luther’s hymns did much in Reformation days to further the revival. Among the Pietists and Moravians there was a similar springing up of spiritual melody. From the eighteenth century onward, there has been a rich and sustained outpouring of sacred song.

The hymns of the Wesleys (for John translated many from the German of Gerhardt Tersteegen and Zinzendorf) afforded an outlet for the thousands of converts to express united praise to God in song.

Chapter 46

Few Christian women have exerted such an influence on their day and generation as Lady Huntingdon. As we trace the progress of the great evangelical revival of the eighteenth century, she stands out as a central figure. She was a kind of pivot around which many of those activities moved. Nearly all the men whom God used in an outstanding way at that period had a link with her. She encouraged the preachers, entertained them, supported them with her means where necessary, built chapels for them to preach in, and gathered people in to listen to them. Her great aim in life was the furtherance of the gospel. Her time and her fortune were devoted to the work, and as her life stretched from the first to the last decade of the century, she saw the birth of the movement and lived to see it reach its climax at the end of the century. Her life, touching at so many points the activities of the principal instruments of the revival, is almost a chronicle of the movement.

Lady Huntingdon was born in 1707 of a noble family and early showed pious inclinations. When twenty-one, she married the ninth Earl of Huntingdon. Their union was happy from first to last. She strove to lead a good life and by prayers and alms to secure the favor of God. Yet, in spite of an exemplary life, she was a stranger to true Christian joy. Like many others, she sought to attain it by self-denial and good works. Having been brought face-to-face with death by a serious illness, she realized she was not fit to meet God. Her sister-in-law had already been converted through the preaching of Benjamin Ingham. She told the Countess that since she had known and believed in the Lord Jesus Christ for life and salvation, she had been “as happy as an angel.” In her despair at the futility of her own efforts to arrive at peace with God, Lady Huntingdon cast herself wholly upon Christ and she too received peace and joy through faith in Him.

When, a little later, John and Charles Wesley came to the neighborhood preaching, she sent a message assuring them she was of the same mind and encouraging them in the work. Thenceforward she devoted herself to the Lord. Her husband, while not sharing her faith, loved and respected her too much to interfere.

Naturally she incurred a good deal of ridicule among the brilliant and aristocratic circle in which she was well-known. One day the Prince of Wales, on inquiring where she was, was told, “I suppose praying with her beggars.” The lady who gave this answer was later converted herself. With her husband, Lady Huntingdon often attended the meetings of the society in Fetter Lane and the preaching of Whitefield. She also persuaded many of the nobility to listen to his preaching. Even men like Lord Chesterfield and Lord Bolingbroke were induced to go and hear. Her drawing rooms in town were crowded with the elite of English society to whom she was not ashamed to make known her faith in Christ.

In the early days of the movement there was in the Fetter Lane society, which she attended with her husband, a young man of some ability named Maxfield, whom Wesley had left to care for the society in his absence. Lady Huntingdon exhorted Maxfield to expound the Scriptures, and under her persuasion, he began to preach. Wesley, to whom the idea of an unordained man preaching seemed quite wrong, was very displeased. He conveyed his alarm to his mother, who replied, “Take care; he is as surely called to preach as you are.” Wesley accepted the admonition and felt it was of the Lord. Lay preaching was thus encouraged and a door opened which resulted in a vast increase of laborers entering the harvest field through the spiritual intuition of two women, Lady Huntingdon and Wesley’s mother.

At her mansion at Donnington Park, the Countess had a servant, David Taylor, who, having been converted, began to witness to his fellow-servants and neighbors. Lady Huntingdon sent him into the villages and hamlets around to preach the gospel. Blessing attending his efforts, she encouraged him to visit the more distant parts of Leicestershire, Derbyshire, Cheshire and Yorkshire. Many were converted and some became themselves preachers of the gospel.

At her Leicestershire home every evangelical clergyman found welcome and encouragement, nor did she confine her interest to those within the Anglican pale. Well-known Dissenters such as Watts and Doddridge were among her friends.

She was bereaved of two sons by smallpox, which was a terrible blow to her, and in 1746 her husband died. Her grief was very great, yet she devoted herself after this more than ever to the Lord’s work.

Taking advantage of her legal right as a peeress, she appointed chaplains, who were thereby free to itinerate as preachers wherever there was an open door. Whitefield was the first of these.

Her devotion to the cause of the gospel led her to become the patroness of all the evangelical preachers of the day. She used her influence at court and with persons in high places to further and protect the gospel cause. We find her helping and stimulating and corresponding not only with Whitefield and Wesley, but with others of the growing band of devout men whom God was using so effectively, such as Ingham, Grimshaw, Berridge, Romaine, Venn, Fletcher of Madeley and Rowland Hill.

Her generosity was unbounded, and her purse ever open to help the cause. She gave away, during her lifetime, about £100,000, a figure which would have a purchasing value, perhaps, of half a million today. Yet she herself lived in comparative austerity.

Owing to the bitter opposition of the clergy, the pulpits of the Church of England were nearly all closed to evangelical preachers. The generality of the clergy neither taught the truth themselves nor allowed others to do it. Companies of converts in many places had nowhere to meet and get spiritual food. Lady Huntingdon decided to do what she could to meet this dire need.

The preaching of Whitefield, Venn, Romaine and Fletcher had, under her auspices, been greatly blessed in Brighton, and a little company had been formed which met for prayer, praise and the reading of the Scriptures. She therefore built a chapel in the town, to meet the expense of which she sold her jewels. This was in 1761. She helped to build many other chapels with the same object all over the country, as a result of which many thousands heard the gospel and received Christian ministry. These chapels were supplied by a rota of preachers, thus maintaining a freshness and power lacking in a fixed ministry.

The opposition of the ecclesiastical authorities compelled the Countess to seek the protection of the Toleration Act. Those who met in these chapels and those who ministered to them were thus forced out of the Church of England and became known as Lady Huntingdon’s Connection.

In 1768 she opened a college at Trevecca in Wales for the training of young men who felt they had a call to preach the gospel. The neighborhood of Trevecca had been the scene of a remarkable revival some time previously in which Griffiths Jones was greatly used of God. There the Countess made her home for a number of years. As patron of the college and trustee of the chapels which were spread about the country, she became a kind of director of operations, and she was criticized for taking a place not normally occupied by a woman, while the ministers who served were contemned for their submission to her directions. Doubtless they viewed it differently, and it is rather to their credit they were willing to work as yokefellows with the noble lady who had given her all in the cause of the gospel. When, in the days of the judges in Israel, leaders were wanting, God raised up Deborah, a mother in Israel, to meet the need, and if, at a time when faithless shepherds were neglecting God’s flock, a woman threw her life, her wealth and all she had to further the kingdom of God and if God was pleased to support and prosper what she did, who shall question His appointments? On one occasion, a bishop complained of her activities to George III. He defended her warmly and said, “I wish there were a Lady Huntingdon in every diocese.”

At one time an attempt was made to inveigle her on to the Continent by pretending there was an opening for the gospel in Belgium. Providentially, she missed the boat which was to take her across. Later a letter arrived with the information that a plot had been hatched to kidnap her and put an end to her life.

During a stay in Brighton in 1757, she visited a poor woman lying in bed in a wretched hovel and, after ministering to her needs, spoke to her of the Saviour. Neighbors overheard the conversation and begged her to speak to them. For a time she repeatedly visited that wretched little home, read the Scriptures and prayed, and spoke to a little company of poor women who gathered to hear her.

Her unselfishness is illustrated by her care of the wife of Charles Wesley when she was dangerously ill with smallpox. For three weeks she attended her, regardless of the great risk to herself from a disease which she had every reason to dread, for it had carried off two of her children.

Lady Huntingdon was the last survivor of that remarkable band of evangelicals who “turned the world upside down” (Acts 17:6) in the eighteenth century and, through God’s grace, changed the face of England. She was left to see the rich fruit of the revival spreading over the land. She died triumphantly on June 17, 1791, in her house adjoining the Spa Fields’ Chapel in London, saying, “I shall go to my Father tonight.”

Chapter 47

In this chapter we propose to review the lives and activities of other prominent servants God used at this epoch.

In the beginning of the eighteenth century, Christendom was a valley of dry bones. The Dissenters, with whom the power had been in the previous century, were in a comatose state. The Baptists had drifted into Unitarianism. The Church of England was dead too, but it pleased God to awaken a number of Church of England clergymen and use them as powerful instruments in the evangelical revival.

Howell Harris

Although Whitefield’s voice was the first to be heard in England, Howell Harris had already begun to preach the gospel in Wales. The same wonderful results which later followed in England, Ireland and America were seen there. Although denied episcopal ordination three times, Howell Harris was not deterred. His labors were abundantly blessed. In seven years the whole of Wales was roused. Thirty societies for prayer were formed among the converts. Later Howell Harris was associated with the other evangelicals, particularly with Whitefield, Cennick and Lady Huntingdon.

Benjamin Ingham

Benjamin Ingham, born in 1712 at Osset, was one of the first members of that little society at Oxford that was called the “Holy Club.” He accompanied John and Charles Wesley on their first visit to Georgia. He also went with Wesley to visit the Moravian Brethren at Marienborn and was, like him, impressed with their godliness and honesty. On his return, he began to preach. He later became a clergyman at Osset in Yorkshire. He was not content, however, to go through the formalities of the English Church, as so many in his day. He had a heart for the gospel and preached with power, not only in his own parish, but in the whole district between Halifax and Leeds, then an area of wild moorland. He founded no less than fifty little societies for reading and prayer among his converts. The supervision of these little companies was more than he could manage, and he called upon the Moravian Brethren to help. They promptly answered the call and established nearly fifty preaching places in Yorkshire. The preachers suffered much persecution and were opposed by both the Establishment and Dissenters. On one occasion when Ingham preached in Colne, he was attacked by a furious mob egged on by the local vicar. Some were for killing him on the spot; a large stone hit him in the back of the neck, and, at last, to prevent a tragedy, the vicar had to shelter him in the vicarage.

It was through Ingham that Lady Margaret Hastings, sister of Lord Huntingdon, was converted, and her testimony led to Lady Huntingdon’s conversion, the wonderful fruits of which we have dealt with elsewhere. A warm attachment grew up between Lady Margaret and the man used to her salvation. She was married to Ingham in November 1741 and labored wholeheartedly with her husband in the gospel. Her influence was widely felt. Unfortunately, about the year 1760, serious disputes arose among the members of the societies, then numbering about eighty, and they were wrecked and scattered by division. In 1768 Lady Margaret died, exclaiming with her last breath, “Thanks be to God! The moment’s come; the day is dawning.” She was in her sixty-eighth year. Her husband, deeply depressed by the troubles which had overtaken his societies and his constitution worn out by his arduous labors, only survived her for four years. He contributed greatly to the revival of the gospel in Yorkshire.

John Cennick

Born in Berkshire in 1718, John Cennick came from an old Bohemian family which fled from persecution at the time of the destruction of the ancient Bohemian Church. As a youth, he led a wild and godless life, but in time his conscience was awakened, and he went through a period of such intense agony of soul that he longed for death. The light, however, broke through. He came into touch with Whitefield and Wesley and preached to the colliers at Kingswood. He then attended some of the Moravian Brethren’s meetings in London and later did a remarkable work of open-air preaching in Wiltshire. Beginning in the tiny village of Castle Combe, he went from place to place proclaiming the gospel of God’s love two or three times a day. Thousands listened to him. He visited, too, the cottages of the poor and spoke words of comfort to the distressed and the dying. In Swindon, with Howell Harris, he was attacked by a violent mob; at another place he was so violently stoned that his body was black and blue for weeks. He was helped by a company of assistant preachers, and soon many little bodies of believers were gathered together, who were taken over by the Moravian societies. He then went to Ireland, where his labors met with astounding success, great numbers being converted in spite of violence and opposition. Invited to preach in the north of Ireland, the same results followed. In Ballymena ten thousand came to listen. For five years he traveled about northern Ireland, and when it was known he was coming, crowds lined the route. Little companies of believers were planted in the parts where he labored. He was a man of true humility and Christ-like spirit, and his accounts of his labors in his letters told, not of what he had done, but of what the Lord had been pleased to do through him. Like John the Baptist, he was a burning and a shining light, but the Lord took him while in the prime of manhood, for he was only thirty-seven when he died. In his notebook he had written:

Now, Lord, in peace with Thee and all below,
Let me depart and to Thy kingdom go.

In the sixteen years of his active service for Christ, he had accomplished far more than many in a long lifetime.

Cennick’s experience at Swindon illustrates the frequent sufferings of the early Methodists at the hands of the mob. He was with Howell Harris and twenty-four others, singing and praying in the streets of Swindon, when, before he could preach, the mob “fired guns over our heads, holding the muzzles so near our faces that Howell Harris and myself were both made as black as tinkers with the powder. We were not affrighted but opened our breasts, telling them we were prepared to lay down our lives for our doctrine. They then got dust out of the highway and covered us all over, and then played an engine upon us, which they filled out of the stinking ditches. While they played upon brother Harris, I preached, and when they turned the engine upon me, he preached. This continued till they spoiled the engine, and then they threw whole buckets of water and mud over us. Mr. Goddard, a leading gentleman of the town, lent the mob his guns, halberd and engine, and he bade them use us as badly as they could, only not to kill us, and he himself sat on horseback the whole time, laughing to see us thus treated. After we left the town, they dressed up two images and called one Cennick and the other Harris, and then they burned them. The next day, they gathered about the house of Mr. Laurence, who had received us, and broke all his windows with stones, cut and wounded four of his family, and knocked down one of his daughters.”

William Grimshaw

In contrast with the great itinerant preachers Whitefield and Wesley, William Grimshaw lived and died as an incumbent of a parochial district in Yorkshire, and outside of that area his name was hardly known, yet God raised him up and used him just at the time when the gospel trumpet was being sounded throughout Britain and America. He owed nothing, however, to the leading evangelists of the day. Born in 1708 and made a deacon in 1731, he became curate of Rochdale while still an unconverted man. Thence he went to Todmorden, where he stayed eleven years. Like many other clergymen of his day, he spent most of his time hunting, fishing, card playing, reveling and merrymaking. After the first three years at Todmorden, a change came over him. He began to pray in secret three times a day. But he was still groping in darkness, though God was evidently working in his soul. At this point he was bereaved of his wife and left with two children. Two Puritan books afforded him some help, one of which was on justification, by Owen. Several years of inward conflict followed, before the light broke into his soul. When it dawned upon him, he became a new creature. Old things passed away; all things became new. The Bible, of which hitherto he had known the letter, now became a new book to him. In the time of his distress, a woman had come to him to ask what she must do to be saved, but he could only answer, “I cannot tell what to say to you, Susan, for I am in the same state myself, but to despair of the mercy of God would be worse than all.” He told another, in similar exercise, to get into merry company, but when he himself had peace, he went to her and told her he had given the wrong advice.

In 1742 he became Vicar of Haworth (four miles from Keighley) where he labored for the remaining twenty-one years of his life. Haworth was in the center of cold, bleak, desolate moorland, and the people were rough and uncivilized. He began to preach the gospel. Wherever he could gather people together in rooms or barns or the open air, there he preached. Like Paul of old, he went from house to house preaching Christ, warning men and women of their danger. In such labors his life was spent. All the features of the revival then centering around Whitefield and Wesley had their counterpart locally in the bleak moorland country around Haworth. He spoke the language the simple folk understood, and before long there was a great transformation in the lives and manners of the people of the district. Where a converted person was at one time rarely to be found, there were now many. Grimshaw’s fame spread beyond his parish; hearers came from other parishes; his church became crowded. Invitations to “come over ... and help us” (Acts 16:9) reached him from other places, and before long he was preaching throughout Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cheshire and North Derbyshire. In all these places little companies of earnest believers were formed and became centers of blessing, for among them were to be found men of some gift who could help others also.

Like the Jewish priesthood in the early days, the clergy rose up against him. He was called mad Grimshaw; persecution, abuse and even violence pursued him. The Vicar of Colne published a violent and untruthful sermon against him and stirred up the mob, so that when he and Wesley went to Colne in 1748 to preach, the crowd became so violent that the audience had to run for their lives.

More than once he was called to account by the Archbishop of York, but all was overruled by God, and he was never stopped in his work. The local inhabitants had occasion once to know the power of his prayers. He was anxious that proposed horse races should not be held at Haworth and prayed they might be prevented. It rained so hard for three days that the project was abandoned and never again attempted.

He finished his course in 1763 at the comparatively early age of fifty-five. When he lay dying, he said, “Never had I such a visit from God since I first knew Him. I am as happy as I can be on earth and as sure of glory as if I were in it.”

John Berridge of Everton

Among those by whom the Holy Spirit wrought powerfully in the revival, Berridge of Everton has a distinguished place. Born at Kingston in Nottinghamshire in 1716, he graduated at Cambridge and took his M.A. in 1742. He was in those days a popular young man of the world, but divine impressions had been made on his heart when quite young, and these impressions were later revived. He decided to take holy orders and became curate of Stapleford where he carried out his official duties conscientiously but without fruit. In 1755 he became vicar of Everton in Bedfordshire, where he preached the righteousness of the law, but he was still a stranger to the gospel of God’s grace. The lack of results distressed him greatly, and he prayed earnestly that he might be led to know “as the truth is in Jesus” (Eph. 4:21). The answer came distinctly: “Cease from thine own works; only believe.” The scales fell from his eyes. He saw that he had been trying to combine the law and the gospel. He resolved now to preach Jesus Christ and salvation by faith in Him. The results were instantaneous. God began to bless his preaching. He burned all his old sermons and wept for joy over their destruction. The whole parish was moved. People crowded to church to hear the true gospel. Souls were convicted and converted. Describing this crisis in his ministry, he said in a letter to a friend, “I preached up sanctification by the works of the law very earnestly for six years in Stapleford and never brought one soul to Christ. I did the same in Everton for two years, without any success at all. But as soon as I preached Jesus Christ and faith in His blood, then believers were added to the Church continually — then people flocked from all parts to hear the glorious sound of the gospel, some coming six miles, others eight and others ten. And what is the reason why my ministry was not blessed, when I preached up salvation partly by faith and partly by works? It is because this doctrine is not of God and because He will prosper no ministers but such as preach salvation in His own appointed way, namely by faith in Jesus Christ.” Thus, apart from human intervention, the Spirit of God taught John Berridge what He had already taught other great leaders of the Revival—Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, Romaine and Rowlands — and led him to proclaim in his own district the same glorious message of free forgiveness in the name of Jesus.

His activities now widened. He began to preach all over the district and, before long, took to preaching in the open air. Soon thousands were gathering to hear him, and he was numbered among the growing band of evangelists whom the world called Methodists (a term applied then to all who preached the gospel, whether Church of England ministers or not). His labors multiplied greatly. His voice was heard all over Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire and in parts of Hertfordshire, Essex and Suffolk. He generally preached twelve times and rode a hundred miles in the week.

He tended his converts like a shepherd and provided lay preachers — some of whom were humble, laboring men whom he maintained at his own expense. As many as four thousand souls were brought to the Saviour in a single year. The strange phenomena of nervous excitement, which sometimes accompanied the preaching of Whitefield and Wesley, at times attended his preaching.

He was bitterly persecuted by the unconverted clergy of his neighborhood, and attempts were made to stop his activities, but, through divine providence, all opposition failed. His work went on in triumph.

After thirty-five years of such activity, he passed into his rest in the year 1793. He had a curious vein of quaintness in his character which marked him all through life, and it is exhibited in the epitaph which he himself composed for his gravestone. It contains the following striking lines:

READER

Art thou born again?

No salvation without a new birth.

I was born in sin, February 1716;

Remained ignorant of my fallen state till 1730;

Lived proudly on faith and works for salvation till 1754;

Was admitted to Everton Vicarage, 1751;

Fled to Jesus alone for refuge, 1756;

Fell asleep in Christ, January 22, 1793.

Daniel Rowlands of Llangeitho (Cardigan)

Another example of the sovereign and universal character of God’s operations at this time is Daniel Rowlands, whom the Spirit of God used powerfully in a remote part of Wales. Born in 1713 and ordained in 1733, he began, like many others of his day, to minister without any knowledge of the gospel. After his Sunday morning duty, he would spend the rest of the day in sport and even drunkenness. His conversion in 1738 is attributed to Griffiths Jones, a well-known evangelical of those days, himself much used to revive Christianity in Wales. Rowlands’ preaching, thenceforward, was entirely different. The effects were tremendous. His preaching was of a solemn and warning character, yet people crowded to hear him. The churches were filled to suffocation. People came from all parts to hear him. Not only the churches but the churchyards also were filled. In one place, numbers fell to the ground under deep conviction of sin. It was as yet the terrors of Sinai rather than the love of God which he preached, but many were aroused and cried for mercy.

At this period, a Dissenting minister named Pugh said to him, “Preach the gospel to the people, apply the balm of Gilead — the blood of Christ — to their spiritual wounds, and show the necessity of faith in a crucified Saviour.”

He now became acquainted with Howell Harris, and gradually the full light of the gospel dawned in his own soul.

“The effect of Rowlands’ ministry from this time forward to his life’s end was something so vast and prodigious that it almost takes away one’s breath to hear of it. ... People used to flock to hear him preach, from every part of the Principality, and to think nothing of traveling fifty or sixty miles for the purpose. On sacrament Sundays it was no uncommon thing for him to have fifteen hundred or two thousand or even twenty-five hundred communicants! The people on these occasions would go together in companies like the Jews going up to the temple feast in Jerusalem, and they would return home afterwards singing hymns and psalms on their journey, caring nothing for fatigue.”

This was not mere revivalism either. Rowlands’ ministry continued for nearly fifty years, and the results were solid and lasting. No preacher in Britain in the eighteenth century preached with greater evidence of the Holy Spirit’s power; some said he was excelled by none. Lady Huntingdon placed him next to Whitefield as a preacher of the gospel. He lived to be seventy-seven. In his closing hours, he uttered the same triumphant words as Wesley: “God is with us.”

Henry Venn

Henry Venn was born at Barnes in 1724. After he had taken his degree of M.A. at Cambridge in 1749, he became a minister, but without any knowledge of the gospel. He was, however, honest and conscientious, and on his ordination he gave up cricket as inconsistent with his calling. He was greatly exercised by the words of the prayer, “That I may live to the glory of Thy name,” and he began to strive after perfection. Like many others at that time, his conscience was affected by Law’s Serious Call. He fasted often and took long, solitary walks. For four years his ministry was fruitless. He removed to Clapham in London, where he met a number of evangelical men — Whitefield, John Thornton, Haweis and also Lady Huntingdon. She was really the means of his conversion. She had observed the defects in his preaching and wrote pointing out that we could not approach God in the filthy rags of our own righteousness. “You must come,” she told him, “like the dying thief, without any conditions. No longer let false doctrines,” she said, “disgrace your pulpit. Preach Christ crucified as the only foundation of the sinner’s hope.” With such words she persuaded and exhorted him to preach a true gospel. About this time, he was laid aside for many months with illness. After this, his preaching was entirely changed, and Whitefield wrote enthusiastically to Lady Huntingdon, saying, “Your exertions in bringing him to a clearer knowledge of the gospel have indeed been blessed.” Two years after, in 1759, Venn became vicar of Huddersfield, then a dark, immoral, irreligious, industrial town. He left it a changed place, and he left behind many faithful men, converted under his ministry, whose light continued to shine in the town after his departure. So continuous and abundant were his exertions that his health gave way under the strain, and he spent the remaining twenty years of his life in the rural parish of Yelling in Huntingdonshire. He maintained close contact with the other evangelists whom God was using and often preached further afield. He was often found preaching in one of Lady Huntingdon’s chapels at Oathall in Sussex, while visits are recorded to Bath, Bristol, Cheltenham, Gloucester and other towns. The same evidences of the Spirit’s power accompanied his activities as were witnessed in the case of Whitefield and others God was using at that time — clear proof that the revival was no human work but a sovereign movement of the Holy Spirit. He died full of joy and peace in 1797 at the age of seventy-three.

John Fletcher of Madeley

Another of the evangelical clergymen of those days of revival was John Fletcher, vicar of Madeley. A Swiss by birth, he came to this country and became a tutor in a gentleman’s family. He was a God-fearing young man, well acquainted with the Scriptures, but he had not the knowledge of Christ as his Saviour.

One day when at St. Albans with his employer, a Mr. Hill, he strolled into the town and met a poor old woman who he said “talked so sweetly of Christ that I knew not how the time passed away.”

Mrs. Hill said, on hearing this, “I shall wonder if our tutor does not turn Methodist by and by.”

“Methodist, Madam,” said Fletcher, “pray what is that?”

“The Methodists,” she replied, “are a people that do nothing but pray; they are praying all day and all night.”

“Are they?” said Fletcher. “Then by the help of God, I will find them out, if they be above ground.”

And he did find them out not long after and became a member of one of their societies. But he had not yet found peace with God. Hearing an evangelist speak on faith, he came to realize that his knowledge of it was merely mental. From then on he went through the bitter soul struggle that so many have known, especially those whom God has afterwards used in a special manner. From now on he longed to tell others the secret of sins forgiven and peace with God, and his efforts in a private way were not without blessing. In 1757 he was ordained. About this time he was to be found preaching in a variety of places, having links with both Wesley and Lady Huntingdon. Later he became vicar of Madeley, a mining town in Shropshire. There for twenty-five years he “did the work of an evangelist among his semi-heathen parishioners in a way that few have ever equaled and none have surpassed.” John Wesley wrote of him: “From the beginning of his settling there, he was a laborious workman in the Lord’s vineyard, endeavoring to spread the truth of the gospel and to suppress vice in every possible way. Those sinners who tried to hide themselves from him he pursued to every corner of his parish, by all sorts of means, public and private, early and late, in season and out of season, entreating and warning them to flee from the wrath to come.” On another occasion, Wesley said he had known many excellent men, holy in heart and life, but never one equal to Fletcher, one so uniformly devoted to God. Such was the general testimony to his life.

He was closely associated with the other leading evangelical men of his time. His health failed while comparatively young, and he was taken to be with Christ when only fifty-six years of age.

Charles Simeon

Charles Simeon, who became vicar of Holy Trinity Church, Cambridge, in 1783, was one of the later accessions to the ranks of evangelical clergymen in the Church of England. In the early days of his ministry, he encountered the most bitter opposition. Even the pews were locked, and his audience had to stand in the aisles. But his Christian testimony, his humility and his patience gradually wore down all opposition. He came to be respected by all and loved by many. His influence extended far beyond his own parish, and he became an acknowledged leader among the evangelical clergymen of his day. He was one of the founders of the Church Missionary Society and an early supporter of the British and Foreign Bible Society.

We have reviewed very briefly the life and work of some of the spiritual giants God raised up in this wonderful age of revival. Space fails us to include many others who also played their part. Among the well-known names that come to mind are Perronet of Shoreham, Toplady (who wrote the famous hymn “Rock of Ages”), Newton (the onetime sailor and “slave of slaves,” who became a powerful preacher and hymn writer), Cowper (the great Christian poet), Spangenberg, Boehler and Latrobe among the Moravians, and still the list might be prolonged, apart from the many faithful servants whose names have not been handed down or have remained in comparative obscurity.

The Lord of the harvest sent forth many laborers at this time into His harvest, and the work went on increasing in strength as the century closed. The vitalizing force of the Holy Spirit pervaded the whole of our favored land, and its influence spread across the Atlantic to the New World. The so-called Methodist societies sprang up everywhere, but the blessing was not confined to them. The Church of England and the Dissenters received fresh life, for the living water flowed over the sectarian barriers and brought refreshment and life and fruit wherever it spread.

Chapter 48

In the closing years of the eighteenth century and the early years of the nineteenth century, there existed a coterie of well-to-do and educated men, living for the most part in Clapham, who, because of their Christian views and benevolent activities, were nicknamed the Clapham Sect. They were not a religious body, being mostly members of the Church of England. They seem to have stimulated each other to faith and good works. Prominent among them was William Wilberforce, a brief account of whose life will illustrate in a striking way how Christianity influenced the whole of society in the early days of this century and was the real motive power behind the amelioration of many gross evils prevalent at the time.

Wilberforce, the son of a wealthy merchant of Hull, was born in 1759. While touring Europe with Isaac Milner, an earnest Christian, who afterwards became Dean of Carlisle, he came under deep conviction of sin. After months of depression, he cried, “God be merciful to me a sinner” (Luke 18:13). Having received the assurance in his soul of divine pardon, he felt he could do nothing but devote his life and energy to the One who loved him. This found expression in a solemn resolve to devote his life to the emancipation of the slaves. This awful traffic in flesh and blood had long preyed upon his mind, and now love to God led him to devote himself to the cause of the poor, downtrodden Negroes. The first result was the abolition of slave trading in 1807 under the British flag. For nearly fifty years he labored, and it was not till he lay on his deathbed that the message came that by Act of Parliament the slaves were freed. “Thank God,” cried the dying man, “thank God I have lived to see this day.” His labors in this cause were a thank offering for his own salvation.

Wilberforce was not simply a humanitarian or he could have no place in this history. Although he conceived it his duty to follow a parliamentary career, his outlook was unworldly. After his conversion, he had his name removed from all of his five clubs. Cards, dancing and such like amusements no longer appealed to him. “I think,” he wrote to his sister in 1787, “the tendency of the theater most pernicious.”

“How vain and foolish all the conversation of great dinners; nothing worth remembering. ... How ill suited is all this to me! How unnatural for one who professes himself a stranger and a pilgrim.” He seems to have continued to move in society because he hoped and believed he might help others and that he might use his influence to further the cause which now became a dominating motive in his life, the abolition of slavery. And he was still welcomed everywhere, in spite of his unworldliness, because of his graciousness and sincerity.

He was very concerned about the difficulty of providing sufficient Bibles. He had himself given money to purchase them for distribution. His diary records a meeting with a few friends at a breakfast table to discuss “Bible Society formation.” A little later, in 1804, the plan was launched. He was also one of the founders of the Church Missionary Society, first discussed in his room at Battersea in 1796 and founded in 1799, largely owing to his efforts.

In 1793 (the year the war with France broke out), he began to write a tract giving his own faith and outlook. It was entitled “A Practical View of the Prevailing Religious System of Professed Christianity in the Higher and Middle Classes of This Country Contrasted With Real Christianity.” It was a solemn appeal in many ways, as one sentence will show: “This present scene, with all its cares and all its gaieties, will soon be rolled away, and we must stand before the judgment seat of Christ.” He speaks of the “clear and decisive warning” in the Scriptures that “the wicked shall be turned into hell” (Psa. 9:17). He reminds his readers that “all human distinctions will soon be done away, and the true followers of Christ will all, as children of the same Father, be alike admitted to the possession of the same heavenly inheritance.”

The printer was dubious about publishing it but offered to print five hundred copies. It made an instant appeal and was reprinted many times for the next forty years. It was also translated into French, German, Italian, Spanish and Dutch.

These earnest Christian men — mostly laymen — were zealous in promoting the cause of the gospel and relieving the necessities of the poor and oppressed by all the means in their power. Being men of wealth or influence, they had numerous contacts among the higher classes, but they did not always appreciate the need for keeping Christianity and the world apart. Many societies were formed in those days for laudable objects, and one result was that benevolent but unconverted men and women of the world joined in these activities. The scriptural injunction not to be unequally yoked with unbelievers was not heeded. Unbelievers could often take part in these activities by paying a small subscription and even sit on the committees. The Continental Bible Societies came, for a time, almost wholly into the hands of Socinians and Modernists. The British Society was also affected. Owing to this state of affairs, a new society called the Trinitarian Bible Society was formed, but a purging went on in the original society and the unsound elements were eliminated.

Chapter 49

In the closing years of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth, God was pleased to revive the light of the gospel in Scotland, where it had again grown dim. Outstanding instruments in this work were two brothers, Robert and James Haldane. They were the sons of a wealthy Scotsman, but they devoted their lives and their wealth to the service of God. Robert was born in 1764, and his brother four years later.

They lost both parents while still young, and both served with some distinction in the Navy. Their godly mother had implanted in their young hearts the knowledge and fear of God, but, as is often the case, it became, in afterlife, blurred and dormant under the attraction of the world, and, while moral and upright, they reached maturity without concern for Christ or eternity. But God, who had chosen them for His service, worked in their hearts and in different ways, but much about the same time He brought them to a clear understanding of the gospel and to faith in Christ. James came first into the good of salvation, largely by the study of the Scriptures. Robert’s exercises arose out of the French Revolution, in which he at first saw great hopes for mankind, but the teaching of a godly clergyman led him to a serious study of Christianity. While thus exercised, a long talk with a Christian stonemason working on the estate opened his eyes to the gospel. This seems to have marked the turning point in his soul. Both brothers became decided believers, and ere long they devoted their lives to the service of God. Robert planned to sell his beautiful estate and go to India as a missionary, but the plan failed as the government refused permission.

About this time James came in touch with some earnest evangelical men, among whom was an ironmonger in Edinburgh named Campbell, whose “warehouse was then the only repository in Edinburgh for religious tracts and periodicals, and it became a sort of house of call or point of reunion for all who took an interest in the kingdom of Christ.” Campbell later became a missionary in the unexplored interior of Africa, but at this time he performed the services of a city missionary, district visitor, Scripture reader, and teacher. He kept in contact with the leading evangelicals of the day, such as Lady Huntingdon and others, and carried on a vast correspondence with those interested in the Lord’s service.

Christianity was at a low ebb in Scotland at this time. The ministers, for the most part, were careless and indifferent and deeply tainted with Socinianism. Campbell had been exercised about the large mining village of Gilmerton where no gospel had been preached in the parish church for forty years. There, in a small hall, James Haldane preached for the first time. Crowds began to come. The local minister deprived them of the hall, so they preached in a large barn. Lay preaching was frowned on in those days, but James Haldane and his friends preached in 1797 in every town in Scotland, ranging from Berwick and the Solway Firth to John O’Groats and the Orkneys and Shetlands. A wave of blessing followed. On their way, thousands of tracts were also distributed. At Kerrymuir on Lord’s Day, July 16, 1797, a thousand people stood in the marketplace to listen. Later at Aberdeen, the whole population turned out to hear him.

All over Scotland the crowds came to hear James Haldane in numbers varying from hundreds to upwards of six thousand. Multitudes dated their conversion to this great awakening. And it was not transient either. The results endured. Forty years after, a minister in the small town of Wick (smaller doubtless then than now) told of forty persons, to his knowledge, who owed their conversion to these labors. The number of Christians in Scotland was greatly increased. Largely as a sequel to these efforts and to follow up the work, there was established in Edinburgh at this time the “Society for Propagating the Gospel at Home.” The Haldane brothers were prime movers in this enterprise, and Robert Haldane himself provided most of the funds. It was expressly stated that their object was not to form or extend the influence of any sect, but solely to make known the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. This work of the Haldanes received the warm approbation of other leading evangelicals such as Charles Simeon and John Newton.

In the following year, 1798, Aikman and Haldane made another preaching tour, mostly in the West, with equally blessed results, multitudes again flocking to hear. In Ayr an attempt was made by the local magistrates to stop the preaching, but it failed. Indeed, the crowds were increased, and the opposition only provoked public sympathy and increased interest.

In 1798 Robert Haldane sold his paternal estates at Airthrie with a view to devoting his life and his means to promote the gospel. In the same year, he and others decided to use the Edinburgh Circus, a large building holding twenty-five hundred people, as a preaching place. On July 29, Rowland Hill preached there for the first time. During the week and following weeks, he preached to vast audiences. Eighteen thousand listeners are also recorded as attending his preaching at Calton Hill.

About this time, Rowland Hill published and dedicated to Haldane a journal of his tour in Scotland. In it he criticized all the existing sects and finally suggested that “if another place of worship should be built [in Edinburgh], what should be its glory? Let it embrace all who love the Lord Jesus and be the center of union among them who are now disunited. Let it then be called the Union Church and let her prove she deserves the name. Let her pulpit be open to all ministers who preach and love the gospel and her communion equally open to all who love the Lord Jesus in sincerity.”

Rowland Hill’s influence on Haldane led to his opening such places of worship, not only at Edinburgh, but also at Glasgow and Dundee. Bitter attacks were launched against these activities by the official Churches, but the gospel was preached and souls were saved.

James Haldane became the pastor of a body of Christians numbering about three hundred who began to meet on what they felt to be scriptural ground, excluding from their communion all who were not sound as to their faith or godly in their walk. They proceeded on what was generally known at that time as the Congregational principle. Bunyan’s Church at Bedford was begun, it will be recalled, on similar lines. In the life of Greville Ewing, one of the leaders in this movement, written by his daughter, we have the following account given of the early days of this company.

“With many souls it was the season of first love, and even those who had long known the grace of God in truth looked back to it ever after as a time of life from the dead. There was a fervor of spirit, a love to each other for the truth’s sake and a delight in all the ordinances of the gospel, which makes it resemble more perhaps the Pentecostal period in Jerusalem than any that has succeeded it. The fear of singularity and the love of the world seemed alike for the time to have lost their power. The work of God in seeking the conversion of sinners was made the business of life. ... The multitudes, also, who crowded to the Circus, the zeal and activity of those engaged in Sabbath schools and various other useful institutions and the intelligence received from others, sent forth to more distant labors: All these were animating in the highest degree. They furnished in abundance topics for the most improving conversation, while they became alike the source of thanksgiving and encouragement to prayer. ... To warn, to beseech or to exhort their fellow-sinners was a spontaneous, delightful employment; to describe the blessedness of ‘peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ’ (Rom. 5:1) was but to express the overflowings of their actual experience. And to crown all, they were at peace among themselves.”

The harvest at this time was great and the laborers few. To meet this, Robert Haldane established a seminary for young preachers at his own expense.

He came to see that a Christian had no part in politics and made his views public, stating that in this respect he felt he should follow the example of the Lord and His apostles.

The Circus was replaced by a Tabernacle built by Robert, and there for fifty years James Haldane served as Pastor. But his labors in the gospel extended to a wider field. In 1801 we find him preaching to crowded congregations in northern Ireland, where, as in so many other places, the blight of Arianism had fallen on the Churches. Space, however, forbids a fuller account of his long and abundant labors.

Chapter 50

Anything approaching a complete history of the Christian testimony in the nineteenth century would be impossible even in a work many times the size of this. The magnitude of the work of God in this century is really stupendous and the coming day will reveal how vast the multitude gathered into the gospel net in this hundred years.

It was a time of unparalleled world development, during which the population of the earth increased beyond all precedents. That of the British Isles rose from 10 million to 32.5 million, while that of America, which at the beginning of the century consisted mainly of the Colonies along the Atlantic seaboard, expanded from five million in 1800 to seventy-five million in 1900. Not only did the whole of North and South America become the home of millions of immigrants, but a new continent opened up at the Antipodes. The British Empire, with the possessions of the other European powers, brought almost the whole world under the domination of Europe.

But at the beginning of the century, all these movements were in their infancy. England was still mainly an agricultural country. The great areas now black with factories and dwellings were represented in 1811 by half a dozen large towns, besides London. Railroads had not been laid; the so-called industrial revolution had scarcely begun. Britain lay under the threat of invasion by Napoleon’s armies. After Waterloo, however, no major conflicts devastated the world until 1914, so that the nations enjoyed a century of comparative peace, during which trade and industry, science, wealth and education made tremendous strides.

At this epoch, and more particularly during the first half of the century, it pleased God to give a fresh and powerful impulse to the gospel, which, by the end of the century, had spread all over the world. Britain was the focus of this great activity, and it was largely from this favored land that the glad tidings spread among the peoples of the earth.

The gospel seed sown in the previous century continued to bear fruit. While it did not center around such outstanding figures as those of Whitefield and Wesley, the tide of revival had not ceased. In England it spread to those parts which had been less abundantly watered, the agricultural counties. Scotland was visited with showers of blessing. During the latter part of the eighteenth century and the early part of the nineteenth century, America was blessed with successive waves of evangelical revival which left a lasting impression on thousands. On the Continent, the dying embers of faith were kindled anew. The opposition to lay preaching had been broken down, and many humble and unlettered men, with faith in their hearts and the Bible in their hands, spread the Word of life among the poorer classes. Men and women, who had themselves drunk the waters of life, were eager to carry it to their fellowmen, and there thus arose that great zeal for the salvation of others, which found its expression in missionary enterprise. While the war with France was raging, earnest Christian men in England, so far from being entirely absorbed with current events, were seeking means to carry the gospel to the uttermost parts of the earth. Several missionary societies had begun in the closing years of the eighteenth century. In 1799 the Religious Tract Society was founded, in 1804 the British and Foreign Bible Society, and many similar societies, yet these were days when, to those living at the time, the fate of Britain seemed to be trembling in the balance.

It has been said that in the nineteenth century Christianity was a greater factor in influencing mankind as a whole than in any preceding age. There was, moreover, at this time a clearer distinction between true Christians and those who were purely nominal. The gospel permeated every stratum of society, and not a few among the upper classes were truly converted and became lights in the world. Many titled people were found at this period devoting their lives to the service of Christ. What is called “family worship” (daily prayer and Scripture reading) was common among the well-to-do. In those days, an unbeliever moving among the higher circles of society complained that “religion” was the topic everywhere.

One great factor lay in the open Bible. The influence of the Holy Scriptures on men and nations has been incalculable. The first half of the nineteenth century was a time when the Bible had a preeminent place. There was much poverty and suffering as a result of war and the growth of the factory system in the days of the industrial revolution, but it was Christians, men whose lives had been changed by the gospel, who devoted themselves to relieve the poor and oppressed and to give them the gospel and the rudiments of education. Indeed, it was the advantage which being able to read the Word of God afforded that led Christian men and women to take an interest in the education of the poor. The government did not take it in hand till the end of the century. Griffiths Jones, a godly clergyman in Wales in the previous century, finding how much his labors among the poor were hindered by their inability to read, began to open schools for the children of the poor. Hannah Moore made a similar effort among the poor children of Cheddar. Sunday schools had, at first, a similar object in view. There is the well-known story of the little Welsh girl who learned to read so that she might be able to study the Bible, and she saved her hard-earned pennies for several years in her eagerness to have one of her own and then trudged twenty-five miles to buy it. The account so moved those who heard it that it led directly to the founding of the British and Foreign Bible Society. The circulation of the Scriptures in many languages all over the world has, in itself, produced a harvest, the extent of which is known only in heaven.

In 1814 a revival occurred in West Cornwall. It began in a prayer meeting, not through preaching. The emotional excesses that often accompany such movements were in evidence, but there were five or six thousand converts who continued to tread the Christian path to the end of their lives.

In 1815 William O’Bryan, a Cornwall Methodist preacher, felt called to go and preach in Devonshire, a county which the Evangelical Revival had not so far reached. He was dismissed from the Methodist society for engaging in such activities without authority—strange indeed, when one considers that Wesley himself sought no authority but the Lord’s for his life’s work. The Lord Himself appoints His evangelists and teachers, and it is quenching the Spirit to attempt to constrain His activities within the confines of a human system. The outcome of this attempt was the rise of the so-called Bible Christians, who multiplied rapidly in that part of the country. Among the number was the well-known Billy Bray, of whose life we must give a few details later.

O’Bryan was son of a wealthy farmer and tin miner. He was converted and became an evangelist, leaving the comforts of a home to spread the gospel. When he was expelled by the Wesleyans for these activities, he said, “I cannot abandon the work. It is my first duty to obey God, who has called me to it and who will be my judge in the last day.”

The Bible Christians were very evangelical and suffered not a little persecution. One of them wrote in 1830, “We have rotten eggs hurled at us, birds let loose in the midst, windows broken and I know not what else besides, but we have glory in the soul, and that makes up for the whole.”

They had, at first, no chapels or meeting rooms, and converts had to be left to find a place among other Churches. But by 1865 they had 750 chapels, 2,000 itinerant preachers and 26,000 members, besides 50,000 who had emigrated and by whom the gospel was carried to other lands.

Some time previously, in 1808, a man named Bourne was excluded by the Wesleyan body for open-air preaching in the Midlands, and in 1810 W. Clowes, a native of Hull, suffered the same fate. Their preaching, however, was blessed, and their converts became known as Primitive Methodists. There were thus two more sects formed, which, with the Methodist New Connection formed in 1796, made four Methodist Sects. Hugh Bourne was a rather timid man. His work began by conversational preaching and cottage prayer meetings. Later what were called “camp meetings” were held in the open air, attended by large numbers. He traveled forty to fifty miles a day, often on foot, and his diet often consisted of bread and hard-boiled eggs.

W. Clowes labored in much the same way. He and his wife had but 1/3 d. a week to live on, and when visitors had to be provided for, they had to be content themselves with bread and water to make ends meet. Such poverty was the lot of many in those days. God supported men who were prepared to make such sacrifices, and waves of blessing are recorded, continuing to the end of the first half of the century. Many of the converts became themselves preachers. Most of them were simple, unlettered men, with one aim before them: to spread the gospel. William Garner walked forty thousand miles in twenty years and preached six thousand times.

After the Napoleonic wars, there had been an appalling increase in poverty and vice in the rural districts. Persecution was often the preachers’ lot. Jeremiah Gilbert was arrested a dozen times in eighteen months. In East Anglia, the mob, after brutally treating a preacher named Key, changed its attitude. Suddenly the ringleader cried out, “You’re right and we are wrong,” and a circle of defense was made around him. These preachers were men of prayer. It is said of another, William Braithwaite, that a farmer, peering through the hedge, saw him on his knees, crying, “Thou must give me souls! I cannot preach without souls! Lord, give me souls, or I shall die!”

As we have already seen, the Baptists arose in England in Reformation days and formed an important element among the Puritans. They had divided into two main sections, the Particular Baptists, so named for their Calvinistic views, and the General Baptists. Both bodies had badly declined by the eighteenth century. The Particular Baptists, by carrying certain aspects of the truth to an extreme, seemed to lose sight of man’s responsibility. The outcome was that they were unable to offer a free salvation to all men, and the preaching of the gospel withered among them. This led to rapid decay. The Presbyterians and Congregationalists were similarly affected. They took the ground that Christ died, not for all, but only for the elect, and therefore it was not right to invite all to repent and believe in Him. Wesley felt so strongly about this attitude that he went to the opposite extreme of Arminianism. The General Baptists fell into another, even more serious error, that of Unitarianism, the denial of the deity of Christ and of the Holy Spirit. They dwindled away or became Unitarian Churches.

After the Evangelical Revival, the General Baptists had a new beginning. It came about as follows. The preaching of David Taylor, one of Lady Huntingdon’s servants, has already been referred to. Several companies of believers were gathered as a result of his labors and formed an independent body. They had meeting rooms at Hinchley, Loughborough, Melbourne and elsewhere. They were mostly poor, laboring folk, and their preachers were untrained and unpaid. They became convinced, however, that the baptism of infants, as practiced in the Anglican Church, was without scriptural warrant and adopted believers’ baptism by immersion as one of their principles.

About the same time another Taylor, Dan Taylor, born in 1738, a native of Yorkshire, came under the influence of Wesley, Whitefield and Grimshaw. Although a miner, he studied Latin, Greek and Hebrew in his spare time, later leaving the mine to become the minister of a small group who had left the Methodists and who met together at Wadsworth, near Hebden Bridge. Like his namesake in Leicestershire, this man, too, came to question the rightness of infant baptism. Some time after, he came in touch with some of the old General Baptists in Lincolnshire, but he soon discovered their doctrinal errors and the deadness already alluded to. He is credited with the epigrammatic verdict upon them: “They degraded Jesus Christ, and He degraded them.” Later he came in touch with the Leicestershire companies which had arisen spontaneously, as already recorded. The two groups joined and a new body of Baptists arose, marked by zeal for the gospel. During the latter part of the eighteenth century and the earlier part of the nineteenth century, this body of Christians prospered and multiplied. Their unworldliness and piety is shown by the fact that they declined to receive into fellowship a person who was engaged in secular business till 1:00 p.m. on the Lord’s Day. They discouraged marriages with unbelievers. Unconverted or immoral persons were not allowed to take a lead in their singing. They held it to be unscriptural and anti-Christian to join such associations as the “Orange Clubs,” “Ancient Druids” and “Odd Fellows.” Their members were forbidden to keep beer shops. They disapproved of sick-clubs, maintaining that it was the duty of the Church to provide for its sick members. They regarded the use of musical instruments as unlawful in congregational service and maintained that fox hunting was, for Christians, “a waste of precious time, expense ill applied and a gratification of carnal nature.” And these were not simply individual opinions, but decisions arrived at in their annual meetings between 1783 and 1837. These details will serve to show how the tide of revival spread and affected Christians irrespective of denomination.

The gospel indifference of the Particular Baptists was also overcome and more balanced views as to the truth acquired. It was from among them that William Carey went forth to preach the gospel in India.

In 1801 the Baptist Churches had 176,692 sittings. By 1851 the number had risen to 752,343. How many of those covered by these figures were truly converted persons we do not pretend to say. We may hope the majority were. They do, however, give some idea of the way the gospel was influencing men and women in the first half of the nineteenth century. The revival of faith was the great feature of those days, and this revival spread throughout Christendom. It introduced new life into every denomination, except those which denied the deity of Christ. It spread to the Continent, pervaded America, and led to a wave of evangelical activity which carried the gospel to every corner of the earth and disseminated the Holy Scriptures in most of the world’s languages. In no age since Pentecost had such a widespread diffusion of the gospel taken place. And if the physical miracles which accompanied the gospel preachers of the first century were not in evidence, spiritual miracles, equally wonderful, testified to the divine power which was working through human vessels — vessels frail, weak and failing in themselves but which held and conveyed a power that could not be other than the power of God.

Billy Bray

Among the so-called Bible Christians already referred to was Billy Bray, a simple, working man, whom God greatly used in the early part of the nineteenth century in Cornwall.

He was born in a little village near Truro in 1794. His parents were pious people, and his grandfather was one of Wesley’s early converts. Billy, however, grew up to be a helpless drunkard. One day Bunyan’s book, Visions of Heaven and Hell, came into his hands, and as he read, the arrow of conviction pierced his soul. In the middle of the night, he was driven to get out of bed and pray, and he spent the next morning in prayer. From that moment, the great change began. A little later he spent the whole day in prayer and in reading the Bible and Wesley’s hymnbook. Then he went to the little hall where the Bible Christians met. He spent days and nights in agony of soul, crying for mercy. One night, returning home from his work, he went to his bedroom without supper. There he said to the Lord, “Thou hast said, ‘They that ask shall receive, they that seek shall find, and to them that knock the door shall be opened,’ and I have faith to believe it.” At that instant, the clouds rolled away and peace and joy unspeakable filled his soul. He said, “I was like a man in a new world.” He could hardly find his workmates quickly enough, so eager was he to tell of his newfound joy.

His wife, who had been a backsliding Christian herself, was soon recovered. A number of fellow-workers and neighbors got blessed through his testimony. About a year after his conversion, towards the end of 1824, he became a local preacher and there was such power and attractiveness in his preaching that people flocked to hear him. On Sundays, crowds of strangers were seen making for the little whitewashed chapel where he was wont to preach, and when crowds of well-dressed people were to be found in the neighboring town, the explanation was that Billy Bray was going to preach. It is said that the secret of his successful preaching was much prayer. His disposition was naturally exuberant, and the joy that filled his soul, continually, expressed itself in keeping with his character, both in his actions and in his words. He said once, “I can’t help praising the Lord. As I go along the street, I lift up one foot and it seems to say ‘Glory,’ and I lift up the other foot and it seems to say ‘Amen,’ and so they keep on like that all the time I am walking.”

Poor as he was and without any money in sight, he began to build a little chapel near his home with his own hands. In spite of much opposition, he got the materials together and built the chapel. The place was a center of blessing. He said he had seen fifty at one time asking for mercy, “and mercy they had.” A little while after, he felt the Lord had told him to build another chapel, a mile away at Kerley Downs. Still a poor miner, working daily in the mine, with a wife and five small children, working sometimes on the morning shift, sometimes on the afternoon shift, and sometimes at night, he spent the free part of the day building. Beside this, he preached every Sunday, sometimes three times a day and sometimes had to walk twenty miles. After this he built another chapel at Gwennap. In answer to his faith, God provided the means in remarkable ways.

So he went on for forty years, praying and praising, working and preaching, and God was with him. His labors were abundantly blessed, and the record of his life has been an encouragement, a cheer and an inspiration to thousands more. His earthly course came to its completion in his seventy-fourth year on May 25, 1868. The last word he uttered on earth was “Glory.”

There were in the Church of England at this time many truly evangelical clergymen who preached the gospel and contended “for the faith once delivered to the saints” (Jude 3 JND), as far as their light went. A brief account of two such men follows.

Legh Richmond

Well-known as the author of The Dairyman’s Daughter, a little book much admired and widely circulated in Victorian days, Legh Richmond became, as a young man, curate of Brading in the Isle of Wight. Good living and conscientious, he carried out his formal duties correctly, but he was a stranger to vital Christianity. Through reading William Wilberforce’s Practical View of Christianity, he was brought to see that he was a guilty sinner needing pardon and peace, and he was thus led to trust the Saviour. A new motive now entered his life; his conversation, his habits and his service were transformed. By study of the Scriptures, he became versed in the truth and preached a sound and effective gospel. He visited the homes in his parish with a view to their spiritual welfare and thus came into touch with the fervent, young Christian woman whose closing days he portrays in his book. The book was translated into nearly every European language and circulated also widely in America. Later Richmond became rector of Turvey in Bedfordshire, where he served with the same devotion till the end of his life in 1827.

The young woman who was the subject of his book recalls another devoted clergyman, Samuel Marsden, who, going as chaplain to the penal settlement in Australia, was the first to take the gospel to the Maoris of New Zealand. It was through his preaching in the Isle of Wight on the eve of his departure that this young person was converted.

A copy of this book translated into the native tongue was left in a town in what was once called Bithynia. Years later a group of Christians were found gathered together as the result of its message.

William Haslam

This High Church clergyman who went to Cornwall for his health was then a zealous sacerdotalist entirely without evangelical light. One of his congregation, his own gardener, had been converted on his deathbed through the word of a Dissenting preacher. Haslam was both alarmed and grieved by this. His concern was deepened by a brother clergyman who told him he would do no good in his parish until he was converted himself. The next Sunday, while preaching on the words, “Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 5:1), the light broke into his soul. The change was so obvious that Billy Bray, who was among the congregation that day, rose up and cried, “Hallelujah, the passon’s converted.” With a heart as full of joy as it had been of misery, he now proclaimed Christ alone as the means of salvation. The effect on his congregation was immediate. Many cried for mercy and were saved. His labors from that time were accompanied by great blessing. A revival such as he had never dreamed of resulted. He wrote an account of it in an interesting and widely read book entitled From Death Unto Life. It was through Haslam that Lord A. P. Cecil, who became well-known among the “Brethren,” was converted.

Chapter 51

The effects of evangelical awakening in America in the eighteenth century continued in the lives and homes of many, but by the end of the century there was, as far as the public profession of Christianity was concerned, an alarming decline. Partly on account of the War of Independence and partly on account of the spread of infidelity, a season of darkness had overtaken the land. Some went so far as to say that the Church was “too far gone” ever to be revived. Lawlessness and violence were rampant.

It was a time when the settlers were moving rapidly into the untilled and virgin lands of the West. A large part of the population was widely scattered. Then there was a movement of the Spirit of God, arousing many from their slumber. William and John McGee began to preach throughout Kentucky and Tennessee. Their words were accompanied with power, and crowds were drawn together from considerable distances to hear them.

In July 1800, in the woods of Logan County, a large number of families gathered together, camping with their horse teams, to enjoy Christian fellowship and preaching. This is said to have been the first of the American camp meetings. It arose out of the need felt by these scattered families to seek the fellowship and edification of which their isolation deprived them.

A Presbyterian minister named Stone, from Cane Ridge in Bourbon County, made a special journey to see for himself what was taking place. He was convinced, in spite of certain features of fanaticism, which he attributed to the enemy’s attempt to discredit the movement, that it was a real work of God. He told his own people about it and they were greatly impressed.

In August 1801, a similar and immense concourse met at Cane Ridge. The numbers were estimated at twenty to thirty thousand. Ministers of various denominations preached, and there seems to have been a remarkable unity. They sang the same hymns, united in prayer and preached the same gospel. Many were converted.

One who made special inquiry into the results reported:

“On my way, I was informed by settlers on the road that the character of Kentucky travelers was entirely changed and that they were as remarkable for sobriety as they had formerly been for dissoluteness and immorality. ... A profane expression was hardly ever heard. A religious awe seemed to pervade the country. Upon the whole, I think the revival in Kentucky the most extraordinary that has ever visited the Church of Christ. ... Infidelity was triumphant and religion on the point of expiring. Something extraordinary seemed necessary to arrest the attention of a giddy people who were ready to conclude Christianity was a fable and futurity a delusion. This revival has done it. It has confounded infidelity and brought numbers beyond calculation under serious impressions.”

Similar reports are recorded by others. Strange scenes were witnessed. People fell prostrate on the ground or showed symptoms of distress or lack of control. Such phenomena had sometimes accompanied Wesley’s preaching. It may have been due in some cases to acute distress of mind, as the sense of their lost condition was brought home to them. Other cases may have been due to the efforts of the enemy to counteract, imitate or discredit the work of God. Men who came to scoff and ridicule were sometimes affected by a sort of nervous convulsion which was beyond their power to control.

In the more populous East, a steady and less spectacular work began in the closing years of the eighteenth century. But there was no excitement. The growth of infidelity was checked and the labors of faithful preachers resulted in a slow but steady increase of believers.

About the year 1821, a young lawyer was led to deep soul exercise through reading the Bible. In great distress of soul, he was led to cry to God for mercy, and the way of salvation was made clear to him from Scripture. He had a very real sense that he had received the Holy Spirit. It became thenceforth his great desire to preach the gospel. “I found,” he said, “I was unwilling to do anything else. I had no longer any desire to practice law. ... I had no disposition to make money. I had no hungering and thirsting after worldly pleasures and amusements in any direction. My whole mind was taken up with Jesus and His salvation, and the world seemed to me of little consequence. Nothing, it seemed to me, could be put in competition with the worth of souls, and no labor I thought could be so sweet and no employment so exalted as that of holding up Christ to a dying world.”

With such impressions on his mind, he approached the first person he could find, a young man who believed in Universalism, whom he led to the Lord. “I spoke,” he records in his memoirs, “with many persons that day, and I believe the Spirit of God made lasting impressions on every one of them.” He became a powerful evangelist, which is not the same as an eloquent preacher. Many said he “just talked” to people, but there was power in his message, and for fifty years his labors were followed by much blessing. This was C. G. Finney, one of the most outstanding of American evangelists. In 1830, less than ten years after his conversion, his preaching in Rochester, New York, resulted in a large number of conversions. Many of the leading citizens were converted, and the moral state of the city was quite changed. He preached in many parts of America and twice visited England. It has been said that during the fifty years of his service, he was instrumental in leading 250,000 persons to the Saviour. He died in 1875, almost at the close of his eighty-third year.

The first half of the nineteenth century in America was marked by a great influx of immigrants. Coming largely from Europe, they brought with them their own ecclesiastical links, so that the religious complexion of America became largely a reflection of what existed in Europe. There were certain sects which are, so to speak, indigenous to America, such as the Disciples of Christ who originated with two men named Stone and Campbell, the latter having come from Ireland. They professed to take the Bible as their only guide and to be unsectarian, but in time they became another denomination, one which is still numerous.

In 1831 a farmer named Miller began to disseminate the view that the coming of Christ to judge the world was at hand. From certain calculations which he based on Daniel and Revelation, he fixed the date as April 23, 1843. Excitement and panic were widespread as the day approached. When the day passed uneventfully, scoffers mocked, the credulous were shaken by disappointment, but others were sobered and remembered the Lord’s words, “It is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father hath put in His own power” (Acts 1:7).

Chapter 52

The spiritual death which pervaded Christendom in the eighteenth century lingered on the Continent till the early years of the nineteenth century. The way in which God revived the truth there, when to all appearance it had become extinct, is so remarkable that it deserves to be recorded in some detail. The means employed were very simple; the results, however, cannot be measured.

Incredible as it may sound, Geneva, that great citadel of the Reformation, where Farel and Calvin had labored and where thousands of standard-bearers of the gospel had found refuge during the days of persecution — Geneva, the city blessed with such light, was, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, steeped in darkness. The Protestant Churches of Switzerland were dead. The students of divinity in its famous university knew little or nothing of the Bible and were totally ignorant of the gospel. The same was true of the Continental countries as a whole.

In 1810 a few young and earnest inquirers after the truth, doubtless led by the Spirit of God and having, in spite of their ignorance, love for the Lord Jesus, formed a little company called “La Societé des Amis.” Among these were a young man named Bost and another named Empeytaz. The latter had become chaplain to Madame Krudener, but her views of the truth were visionary and indistinct. The little society was frowned on by the Arian clergy, and in 1814 it was dissolved. About a dozen of them, however, continued to hold a sort of love feast after the manner of the early Christians, at which they conversed to the best of their knowledge on eternal things. Bost, however, left them to take up a post as pastor in the Canton of Berne, and Empeytaz also quitted the field, but he wrote, at this time, a pamphlet which he addressed to the students on the subject of the deity of Christ. It shows the state of things among the students and professors of theology at Geneva that this pamphlet raised a storm of protest. Meanwhile, the few who were hungering and thirsting after righteousness had been praying to God to send them an instructor in the truth.

At this moment Robert Haldane appeared. In 1816, acting, as the events prove, under a divine impulse, he was led to visit the city and to spread in that country the glad tidings which he and his brother had been preaching in Scotland. Armed only with the Bible, knowing no one there personally, he got in touch providentially with one of the students, and ere long the greater part of the young men studying for the ministry were sitting at his feet listening to the Word of God and drinking in the water of life, which, in turn, was to flow out from them in a fertilizing stream and cause the gospel to flourish once more in a continent where it had become almost extinct.

One of the young men who listened was Merle d’Aubigné, the well-known author of the History of the Reformation. He himself once said that the narrative of this revival would form “one of the most beautiful episodes in the history of the Church.”

Let us hear in Haldane’s own words as to how the exercise began:

“For many years I had cherished the idea of going to France, with the view of doing something to promote the knowledge of the gospel in a country in which I had been three times before as a traveler. Accordingly, when the return of peace rendered my design practicable, I went to the Continent. Being, however, unacquainted with a single individual there and therefore unable to arrange any particular plan of action, I feared that my object might prove abortive, and, in consequence, when asked, before I left Scotland, how long I expected to be absent, I replied, ‘Possibly only six weeks.’ The Lord, however, was pleased to open a wide and effectual door, leading me in a way that I knew not, and my residence abroad continued about three years.

“On arriving at Paris, involved, as it appeared, in Egyptian darkness, I soon perceived that I had no means of furthering the object of my journey in that great metropolis. Unexpectedly, however, I met with Mr. Hillhouse, a gentleman from America, of whom I had not heard before. He had landed at Bordeaux and, traveling through the south of France, had gone to Geneva and thence to Paris. Having passed through Montauban, where the French Theological Protestant Faculty was founded by Napoleon, he had there, and in other places, inquired respecting the Protestant ministers, and he communicated to me all his information on the subject. He told me that at Geneva there were only two individuals to whom I could have access — the one a pastor, in advanced years, and the other not a pastor but what is termed a minister — and that nearly the whole of the other pastors were Arians or Socinians.

“Finding no opening at Paris, I immediately set out for Geneva, hoping that something might be done through the two individuals referred to by Mr. Hillhouse. On my arrival, I called on the pastor alluded to, the late M. Moulinie, and conversed with him on the gospel. He was very kind, but appearing to acquiesce in all that I advanced, discussion on any point was out of the question and no progress was made. Being, therefore, unable to discover means of usefulness at Geneva and finding, on inquiry, that the young man also spoken of by Mr. Hillhouse had some time before removed to Berne, I repaired to that city, where I found he had been ordained a pastor. He was not an Arian or Socinian, but although very ignorant respecting the gospel, he was willing to inquire and hear concerning the great truths which it reveals. I remained in Berne about eight days, during which he came to me every morning at ten o’clock and continued till ten at night —in fact, as late as it was possible for him, the gates of the city, beyond which he lodged, being shut at that hour. During the whole day, I endeavored to set before him, as far as I was enabled, everything relating to the gospel, and I have good reason to believe that the word spoken was accompanied with the blessing of the Lord. I was afterwards informed that, subsequent to my departure, he conversed with his colleague, the other pastor of the Church, on the subject of our discussions and that in considering what had been advanced, they arrived at the conclusion that it must be the true doctrine of salvation.

“I hesitated whether I should return to Geneva, but at last resolved to do so. ... I again visited M. Moulinie with whom I had before conversed, who, as formerly, was very kind, but with whom I could make no progress. From all I could learn from him, Geneva was involved in the most deplorable darkness. It was, as Mr. Burgess observes, ‘an unbroken field of labor,’ with a ‘fallen Church.’ Calvin, once its chiefest boast and ornament, with his doctrines and works, had been set aside and forgotten, while the pastors and professors were in general Arians or Socinians. Some exceptions among them there were, including M. Moulinie, who held the divinity of our Lord Jesus and, I believe, loved and served Him according to their light, but that light was so obscure — they were, on the whole, so ignorant, so incapable of rightly dividing the Word of truth —that their preaching was without fruit. They preached neither law nor gospel fully, and their doctrine did not seem to affect the consciences of their hearers. A small prayer meeting had, for some time, been held, in consequence, I believe, of a visit of Madame Krudener to Geneva, and by one belonging to it I was told that, sensible of their want of knowledge, they had prayed that an instructor should be sent to them and that their prayer now, they believed, was answered.

“Being unable to meet with any other person with whom I might converse on the gospel, I resolved to quit Geneva without delay and proceed to Montauban. The Lord, however, is often pleased to overrule our purposes by occurrences which, in themselves, appear trifling and thus to bring about results that could not have been anticipated. M. Moulinie had politely offered to conduct Mrs. Haldane to see the model of the mountains, a little way out of town, and with this object he promised to call on us the day following. In the morning, however, we received a note from him, saying that, having suffered from a severe headache during the night, he was himself unable to come, but he had sent a young man, a student of divinity, who would be our conductor. On this providential circumstance depended my continuance at Geneva, which I had been on the point of leaving. With this student I immediately entered into conversation respecting the gospel, of which I found him profoundly ignorant, although in a state of mind that showed he was willing to receive information. He returned with me to the inn and remained till late at night. Next morning he came with another student, equally in darkness with himself. I questioned them respecting their personal hope of salvation and the foundation of that hope. Had they been trained in the schools of Socrates or Plato and enjoyed no other means of instruction, they could scarcely have been more ignorant of the doctrines of the gospel. They had, in fact, learned much more of the opinions of the heathen philosophers than of the doctrines of the Saviour and His apostles. To the Bible and its contents their studies had never been directed. After some conversation, they became convinced of their ignorance of the Scriptures and of the way of salvation, and they were exceedingly desirous of information. I therefore postponed my intended departure from Geneva.”

The two students with whom Haldane first conversed brought six others. So frequent did these visits become that regular meetings were arranged. Taking the Epistle to the Romans as his subject, Haldane began to instruct them in the gospel. Others now joined these classes, and soon almost the whole of the students in theology in the University were attending them regularly, and this continued during the winter of 1816-1817 right on to the end of the summer term. A good many were soundly converted. Beside those who thus attended regularly, others came for instruction at different hours, and Haldane was often occupied till midnight. Other inhabitants of Geneva, unconnected with the colleges, both men and women, also paid visits in the afternoon to receive instruction in the truth of the gospel. The University authorities and the pastors, disturbed by these activities, endeavored, but in vain, to silence Haldane and prevent the students attending. To these students, as we have seen, the study of the Scriptures was a new exercise. It formed no part of their preparation for the ministry, nor were they acquainted with the teachings of Luther and Calvin. Their new and unofficial instructor led the little band to the fountainhead of truth.

The gospel, which seemed almost extinguished, once again obtained a foothold on the Continent. Haldane’s brief pioneer work was followed up by others. In Scandinavia, where the whole population were nominal adherents of the national Churches, there was a sort of second Reformation. The Methodist and Baptist bodies also obtained adherents in various parts of Europe. Even Russia was affected; a fuller account of this is given in a later chapter.

In Spain and Italy there was also a feeble revival, but the power of Rome, particularly in the former country, hindered the spread of the Word of God.

Chapter 53

Ever since the rise of the sacerdotal system, there have been, from time to time, companies of believers who sought return in a greater or lesser degree to the simplicity of apostolic days. Something of this character appears in the Priscillianists of the fourth century, the Paulicians, the Waldenses and others. In Reformation days, the Anabaptists and the separated Churches in England were on these lines. After the great gospel awakening of the eighteenth century, it seems that God began to raise similar exercises, which expressed themselves in spontaneous movements in various places. The following details are based on a pamphlet, printed in 1820, which was a reprint of the correspondence in question.

In 1818 a body of Christians, meeting apparently on simple, scriptural lines in New York, wishing to discover other, similar companies in other parts, sent out a circular letter couched in the following terms:

“The Church professing obedience to the faith of Jesus Christ assembling together in New York.

“To the Churches of Christ scattered over the earth to whom this communication may come, grace, mercy and peace be multiplied from God the Father, by the Holy Spirit through our Lord Jesus Christ.

“Dearly Beloved,

“Participating in the attention that has been, of late years, excited among the disciples of the Lord Jesus to the consideration of the Holy Scriptures and the obedience therein exhibited, as connected with the belief of the gospel, we have been led, by the mercy of God, to separate from various religious connections and denominations and to come together into one body, that in the fear and reverence of His authority we might walk as a Church of Christ in this city, continuing in the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship and breaking of bread and prayers.”

The letter, which was written to tender their love and esteem and to invite correspondence from any similar company anywhere, proceeds to indicate that they had been going on in this way for seven years, though meeting together previously in a less definite way. They then give an account of their procedure and order of worship, which seems to have been an attempt to follow, as closely as they could discover it, the order recorded in the New Testament. The Lord’s supper was taken in simplicity. The letter is dated March 1, 1818, so they began to meet in the manner described in 1811. A simple but unequivocal confession of faith was demanded of all who adhered to them. They had recognized elders and deacons but no minister. Other similar companies existed in America. Twenty-two companies replied, mostly from Ireland, several from Scotland, including Glasgow and Edinburgh, and one from Manchester in England.

Waterford’s reply expressed pleasure at finding a similar body to themselves in New York. This company numbered forty and had begun twelve years previously, but only for the last six had they followed scriptural principles. They had no appointed elders or deacons but broke bread in an informal way.

Glasgow’s reply was in a similar strain, but it claimed that such gatherings had been in vogue for thirty to forty years (which would go back to 1780) but there was division on the question of meeting without pastors. They numbered then 180. This particular company held that pastors were not necessary.

A reply from Kilkenny stated that in 1814 some had been led to leave the public Church through the gospel preached by a minister of the Establishment. Their order and procedure were very similar, and they followed apostolic practice as nearly as they could. While they had no elders, they hoped in God’s time such would be raised up.

A reply from Dublin intimated that a hundred had been associated for eight years. “It was,” they said, “as though a copy of the laws of Christ’s kingdom had been discovered under the rubbish of antiquity.”

A company in Edinburgh said they began twenty years previously but originally had a pastor. More recently, however, this was discontinued in favor of the elders and deacons, as in the New Testament. Their first step as to scriptural order was to begin to break bread every Lord’s Day.

A similar gathering in Manchester began in 1810, with thirty-three breaking bread.

Those in Paisley began in 1795. Thirty to forty similar companies existed, they said, in Scotland.

Those in Dalkeith expressed the opinion that there were few places of any size where believers were not to be found who were seeking to follow the Lord’s ordinances in this way.

In Cork there were two companies, one insisting on elders and the other holding that any brother should be free to take part as led.

From this interesting document it is clear that at the end of the eighteenth century and in the early nineteenth century many companies of Christians had begun to leave the denominations of Christendom and return in some measure to the simplicity of apostolic times. The spontaneity of this movement, its widespread character — for there is evidence it was not confined to Britain and America — and its consistency with the Word of God marks it out as a movement of the Holy Spirit. What ultimately happened to these particular companies of believers we cannot say, but many were doubtless absorbed in a later and more intelligent movement of which we must now speak.

It began at the end of 1827, and God raised up men of outstanding gift to teach and shepherd those who then returned to the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship and the breaking of bread and prayers (Acts 2:42).

The great revival of gospel truth in the latter half of the eighteenth century had opened the eyes of thousands, and with the Holy Scriptures then available almost to all and more widely read than, perhaps, ever before, it seems that in the ways of God the time was ripe for a revival of another kind, namely, the revival of the truth of the Church as the Body of Christ. The gospel revival paved the way for this Church revival.

Light was now thrown on truths almost, if not entirely, lost sight of by the great mass of Christians since the days of Paul. The truth of the Lord’s second coming and the whole of the prophetic scriptures were illuminated in a remarkable way, and the heavenly character and calling of the Church were brought into relief.

Chapter 54

In the first quarter of the nineteenth century, several books were published on the subject of prophecy, particularly relating to the restoration of Israel and the glory of the reign of the Messiah. One appeared in 1812, written by a South American Roman Catholic priest under the pen name of Ben-Ezra. It was translated from Spanish into English in 1827 and stirred up great interest in the subject of prophecy. Numerous books and magazine articles appeared on the subject. Meetings for the study of prophecy were held in the house of H. Drummond at Albury in Surrey and later in Powerscourt Castle, in Wicklow, Ireland.

They were attended at first by many clergymen as well as laymen. Attention was focused on the end of the present dispensation, and the cry was raised, “Behold, the bridegroom; go forth to meet him” (Matt. 25:6 JND).

The unfolding of prophetic truth brought out the great distinction between Israel’s place, destined for earthly blessing, who, as a nation, are yet to have the chief place on earth in the Millennium, and, on the other hand, the Church’s place, which belongs to heaven, seated in the heavenlies in Christ Jesus, but while on earth, sharing the place of her still rejected Head and awaiting the moment of His coming to give her her assigned place in the glory with Himself.

In the winter of 1827-1828 four Christian men, who had for some time felt that none of the denominations of Christendom worshipped according to scriptural order, agreed, after much prayer, to come together on Lord’s Day morning in order to break bread according to the Lord’s own request.

The names of the four men were Darby, Cronin, Bellett and Hutchinson. They held their first meeting in the house of the last-named in Fitzwilliam Square, Dublin. Others soon joined them, and at the end of 1829 or early 1830, they hired a large auction room in Aungier Street. Lord Congleton (then J. Parnell) was at that time among their number. They were deeply conscious of the Lord’s approval and were richly blessed. Not only did they celebrate the Lord’s supper, but they gathered together to read the Scriptures, relying entirely on the presence of the Holy Spirit to guide and teach them. In these meetings, they met simply as brethren, without pastor, official elder or chairman, but according to the Lord’s word, “One is your Master [Instructor], even Christ; and all ye are brethren” (Matt. 23:8). At the beginning, it appears all were not entirely clear as to the importance of this principle, but experience taught them that the more they relied on the Holy Spirit, the greater their liberty and blessing. This little company abandoned any form of human organization. To the human mind it seems unworkable, and indeed it is only workable where the Lord’s authority and the Spirit’s power are recognized and submitted to. The gifts of the Holy Spirit, however, they fully owned and made full room for teachers and evangelists whose gift was evident, not by ordination, but by the gift of the Spirit. How this worked out in the early Church is readily seen from 1 Corinthians 14. An amazing amount and variety of gift manifested itself as their numbers grew. By means of lectures, tracts, pamphlets and larger works, a rich harvest of sound teaching, garnered from a study of the Word of God, spread throughout the length and breadth of Christendom. Thousands who never joined the Brethren, as they were called, benefited from their teaching.

Another important feature with them was their allegiance to the Holy Scriptures. As one of them has written, “All human statements of truth must be inferior to Scripture, even when drawn from it.”

Meetings multiplied. They arose all over Britain and in the United States, the West Indies and the British countries overseas. On the continent of Europe, they were to be found in France, Germany, Holland, Scandinavia, Italy, Spain and Russia. There were meetings even among the Copts in Egypt. When brethren from England began to visit other lands, they found that God had gone before and prepared the way by stirring up His people and putting similar exercises into their hearts, so that in many places companies were already found breaking bread in the same, simple way, and such companies readily received the truth ministered to them.

Early in the nineteenth century, there arose in Geneva a small company of Christians meeting on simple lines, prominent among whom was Bost, who had been influenced by the Moravians. In 1816 Robert Haldane came to Geneva and effected the remarkable revival of which an account has been given. The Holy Spirit used him to kindle a fire which spread from Geneva, where he worked, to Waadland, Berne, Basle, Zurich and even to St. Gallen. There was much opposition, but the work of God spread far and wide, and those who got light and help through him carried the gospel into other countries on the Continent. Haldane’s work was to revive the basic truth of the gospel. The further light followed. On October 5, 1817, they celebrated the Lord’s supper in its scriptural simplicity, apart from the organized Churches. All present experienced a rich blessing and were encouraged by a sense of the Lord’s presence. They said they wished to go on with the Bible in their hands, with no preconceived plans, having the Word of God as their only rule and the Holy Spirit as their only Leader. Those who took this path were simple, undistinguished Christians. When J. N. Darby went to Switzerland in 1837, he found such believers meeting on the same principles as he and others had begun upon ten years earlier in England, and he gladly associated himself with them as a brother in Christ. From Geneva he went on to Lausanne and other places, encouraging the saints and being encouraged among them. His remarkable knowledge of the Scriptures and outstanding gift as a teacher helped greatly to build these little companies up in the truth. His ministry was printed in Basle, and from there it reached Germany, where also little companies of Christians were meeting on very similar lines. The work spread to Jubingen and Stuttgart through Peter Nippel, who had been deeply impressed by Darby’s writings published in Basle in 1843. Tracts and booklets of Darby’s were also printed in Duesseldorf, and a periodical, The Expectation of the Church, was produced. This literature was printed in such large quantities that cartloads were taken to the meetings, and people filled their pockets with them. William Darby, J. N. Darby’s brother, was resident in Duesseldorf at this time and, together with von Posek, was very active in ministering among Christians in the whole of that area. G. V. Wigram also visited the gatherings.

Karl Brockhaus and others were busy at this time in Elberfeld and the environs in spreading the gospel. He and his coadjutors issued a magazine called Der Saemann of which four thousand copies were issued periodically. In the course of twelve months, they held 160 Bible readings in 70 different places and distributed 217,000 tracts.

Karl Brockhaus (b. 1822) was an outstanding servant marked not only by evangelical gift but by warm love and a shepherd spirit. He was converted as a young man of twenty-three and started Bible readings in a schoolroom. When he got J. N. Darby’s writings, he was deeply impressed. This led to an invitation to Darby to come and minister to them. The companies meeting with Brockhaus in Germany soon became associated with the brethren in England, and the valuable literature of such writers as Darby, Bellett, Mackintosh and others was translated into German. Other names could, of course, be added, but space forbids and excess of detail would make the account too tedious. J. N. Darby undertook, with the collaboration of von Posek, the translation of the whole Bible into German. The result was a very faithful and accurate version of the Scriptures.

These activities had their counterpart in other Continental countries, in America and in the newly developing British Colonies. Companies meeting simply as brethren were springing up in almost every land where the Christian testimony had spread. J. N. Darby, writing to Professor Tholuck in 1855, says, “Gospel preaching in Switzerland and England has led to the formation of some meetings among emigrants to the United States and Canada; the evangelization of Negroes has led to others in Jamaica and Demerara.” We have before us interesting accounts of the spread of the gospel and the formation of such companies in Jamaica and in Barbados, where to this day there are many happy companies of dark-skinned brethren meeting in warm fellowship with others of European origin.

Twenty years had scarcely passed since the little meeting began in Dublin, when Satan launched a subtle attack which divided the brethren into two camps. Evil doctrine concerning the Lord Jesus had been introduced by a leader named Newton in the large Plymouth meeting. The doctrine itself was universally condemned, but it raised serious practical issues as to fellowship, which came to a head in the large gathering at Bethesda, Bristol, where Mueller and Craik were leaders. J. N. Darby felt that in such a serious matter there could be no compromise with evil and that the principle of separation demanded withdrawal, not only from the author of the heresy, but from all who had links with him. George Mueller, whose influence was very considerable, opposed this, and those who followed him became known as Open Brethren. This sad division greatly weakened the testimony of the brethren to the truth of the one Body, and it was, alas, not the only occasion when the enemy succeeded in dividing their ranks. To deal adequately with the principles involved and the underlying moral issues would be beyond the scope of this history. These were dealt with in a pamphlet written at the time by a spiritual and highly respected brother, as well as by J. N. Darby himself.

The following extracts are from a pamphlet published in 1875 by an anonymous minister in Edinburgh. After citing the works of the principal brethren and enlarging on their value, he wrote:

“It is written by Divine Inspiration, ‘When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against him’ (Isa. 59:19). Of late years the enemy has been coming in like a flood and where is there anything in these lands that can be called the lifting up ‘a standard against him,’ except it be the intensely spiritual movement and thoroughly Biblical writings of the ‘Brethren’? For, drawing only from the Holy Scripture, have they not displayed a banner, because of the truth, against every great evil that has come in for the past forty years? Are they not the present-day standard-bearers of a recovered Christianity?”

• • •

“But, when you can point to a set of Christians, living among us, who, at the cost of all that flesh holds dear, have dared to stand up for apostolic Christianity, pure and simple in doctrine and worship and practice, you point to the real successors of the primitive Christians, who are the hope, not only of retaining true and vital Christianity in the midst of us, but perhaps of preserving, for a while, the country from decadence and destruction, should the dispensation continue, for such saints are not only the evangelists of the world’s heathenism, but the ‘salt of the earth’ (Matt. 5:13).”

• • •

“Were we to inquire where this wonderful evangelist from America (who has been so prominently used in the present religious awakening) had the full, clear gospel of God’s love to sinners, as such, which he preaches, would he not own that he got it by hearing it preached by a brother evangelist, and then more solidly from the writings of such ‘Brethren’ as C. H. Mackintosh and Charles Stanley or J. N. Darby himself, at whose feet he sat, not so very long ago, in the city of Chicago, when by his request meetings for Bible readings were held by him for some weeks, often twice a day? Subsequently he found deliverance from the law by reading Dr. Mackay’s Grace and Truth, a book which tells plainly of its author’s obligations to ‘Brethren.’”

• • •

“Moreover, is it not also the case that, at the present hour, hundreds of godly clergymen and ministers are feeding their own souls at the rich feast provided for them in the writings of ‘Brethren’ and the people to whom they preach are reaping the benefit of these private studies? By means of millions of their tracts, ‘Brethren’ are also carrying salvation, liberty, peace and joy to tens of thousands who never would be reached by their living voice and who may never be associated with them in corporate fellowship.”

• • •

“For a very long time now, the new wine has been bursting the ‘old bottles’ and running out. The best of the saints of God are bursting the ‘old bottles’ of denominationalism and running out, and why not make sure of having them put into the new bottle of the Church of God, that both bottle and wine may be preserved (Matt. 9:17)? Nobody believes in denominationalism but the most prejudiced and ignorant of men; all Christians know and admit that sects and divisions are, to say the least, of the flesh and not of God. Why then not have done with them? But these are the ‘Churches,’ so-called. If we are Christ’s, we are members of His body and should belong to no other. Where would this land us now? Do we shrink back, dislike, despise? Let us take care that we do not fight against Christ in defense of our ‘ism.’ Why not discard all our ‘isms’ in order to follow the Lord and His Word and be on the ground of His Church? Why not let God’s Holy Spirit gather us all to Christ only in the unity of His body (as all believers were in the days of the apostles) and belong to nothing ecclesiastically in time which we shall not belong to in eternity?”

These words were written more than one hundred years ago, when the movement was about fifty years old and many of those whom the Holy Spirit had stirred up and so signally and powerfully used were still alive. It is not to glorify any body of Christians that we reproduce these words. It would be utterly wrong to do so. If they were deserved, the glory is due to God alone. Our object in this work is simply to present a faithful picture of every divine movement we have been able to trace in the Church’s history, for the glory of God and the exercise and encouragement of the Christians of our day. A recovery of the truth was effected in those days by the sovereign action of the Holy Spirit. Many Christians all over the world answered to it and, in obedience to God’s Word, met in the simplicity which characterized the early Christians. The light and truth which shone out have permeated Christendom, and many have benefited by it, in the same way as the Reformation recovery benefited the whole Church.

Chapter 55

J. N. Darby

When God is working in a very definite way, He raises up servants endued with the gifts and qualities suited to the hour. The man God chose to serve in an outstanding way in the revival of Church truth at the beginning of the nineteenth century was John Nelson Darby. He was the son of John Darby of Markley, Sussex, and Kings County, Ireland, and was born in the year 1800. When he was fifteen, the family went to reside in the ancestral castle in Ireland, and young Darby, who had received his early education at Westminster School, then went to Trinity College, Dublin, where he graduated at nineteen and became Classical Gold Medalist. Later he studied law, and in 1822 was called to the Irish Chancery Bar.

In the meantime, he had been going through intense spiritual exercises, and for seven years only the barest gleam of hope entered his soul. When the light at last broke through, it was by the written Word of God and apart from human instrumentality. Having come to know the Lord, he now “left all, rose up, and followed Him” (Luke 5:28). He could not conscientiously continue his legal career, so he became a clergyman and served at first as a curate in a wild parish among the mountains of Wicklow. Prof. F. W. Newman, who knew him well, says of him at this time:

“Every evening he sallied forth to teach in the cabins and, roving far and wide over mountains and amid bogs, was seldom home before midnight. By such exertions, his strength was undermined, and he so suffered in his limbs that, not lameness only, but yet more serious results were feared. ... His long walks through wild country and among indigent people inflicted on him much severe privation; moreover, as he ate whatever food offered itself (food unpalatable and often indigestible to him), his whole frame might have vied in emaciation with a monk of La Trappe.”

Of his loyalty to the Holy Scriptures the same witness says:

“Never before had I seen a man so resolved that no word of the New Testament should be a dead letter to him. I once said, ‘But do you really think that no part of the New Testament may have been temporary in its object? For instance, what should we have lost if St. Paul had never written, “The cloke that I left at Troas ... bring with thee, and the books, but especially the parchments” (2 Tim. 4:13)? ’ He answered with the greatest promptitude, ‘I should have lost something, for it was exactly that verse which alone saved me from selling my little library. No! Every word, depend upon it, is from the SPIRIT and is for eternal service!’”

While traveling, as was his custom, on horseback, he was thrown and badly injured. Before this, his mind had been disturbed by observing the difference between the Church of his day and the view of it in the Acts of the Apostles. During his illness, this exercise ripened, and he left the Church. In justification of this (he was still under thirty) he wrote, “The man who would say that the Church of England is a gathering of saints must be a very odd man or a very bold one. All the parishioners are bound to attend by her principles. It was not the details of the sacramental and priestly system which drove me from the Establishment, deadly as they are in their nature. It was that I was looking for the body of Christ (which was not there, but perhaps in all the parish not one converted person), and, collaterally, because I believed in a divinely-appointed ministry. If Paul had come, he could not have preached (he had never been ordained); if a wicked, ordained man, he had his title and must be recognized as a minister; the truest minister of Christ unordained could not. It was a system contrary to what I found in Scripture.”

Shortly after this, he was found with the few already mentioned, meeting on Lord’s Day in a private house in Dublin to remember the Lord Jesus in the breaking of bread. About this time, he wrote a remarkable pamphlet entitled “The Nature and Unity of the Church of Christ.”

In these days, too, he attended, with many others, the meetings on prophecy held in Powerscourt Castle. In the early days, sixty or seventy earnest clergymen and a number of Dissenting ministers attended, but when they saw his uncompromising attitude to clericalism, which he had left for conscience sake, they deserted him.

He was now launched on his career of service, which was to be, for over fifty years, one of unremitting, unselfish labor for Christ and His saints. He traveled far and wide at home, on the Continent and across the Atlantic. He visited, he preached, he taught and he wrote voluminously. He was never idle, yet always maintaining that close communion with the Lord that gave lustre to his testimony and fragrance to his life.

He visited the Continent for the first time in 1830 when he supported the labors of F. P. Monod in France. He visited France again in 1836. Then in 1837 he paid his first visit to Switzerland. Two years later he again visited Switzerland, spending four years in that country and France, returning again in 1844 and 1848 and making further visits between 1850 and 1854. In 1854, on the suggestion of his brother who was living in Duesseldorf, he went to Germany for the first time, spending some time in Holland en route. Frequent visits to France, Holland, Switzerland and Germany were undertaken from then onwards until 1862, when he visited the United States and Canada. After a further sojourn of eighteen months in France, Germany and Switzerland, he spent two years in the United States. On his return, the Continent again claimed his labors, but to the countries already named he added Italy and Spain. Germany saw him again in 1870. Thereafter until 1879, he traveled not only in Europe and America, but he also visited Australia and New Zealand. In these frequent journeyings, covering a space of almost fifty years, he was occupied in preaching, teaching and exhorting the people of God. Three large volumes of letters give some insight into these labors and into his own exercises. In the midst of all these activities, he found time to write the varied papers and treatises which fill the thirty-four volumes of his Collected Writings, to translate the whole Bible from the original languages into German and French and the New Testament into English from the Greek, and also to compile the Synopsis of the Books of the Bible. No teacher has penetrated more deeply into the holy mysteries of revelation nor expounded more accurately the doctrines taught in Scripture.

His writings are not always easy to follow; he wrote as the thoughts came. He never obtruded his scholarship. Nevertheless, he was a profound scholar with a remarkably acute mind. In his Collected Writings, the whole range of Scripture is examined and commented on, the prophetic scriptures are illuminated in a remarkable way, the errors of popery are laid bare, and many other errors exposed in the light of Scripture. The Essays and Reviews in which the modernists of his day set forth their pernicious notions are also examined and refuted. The Oxford Movement is likewise exposed. Valuable helps to the scholar are found, too, in these volumes, such as the treatise on the Greek article and particle. Then, too, the Synopsis of the Books of the Bible is an incomparable commentary on the whole of Scripture.

His letters give us an insight into his character and show us a man of God, humble, unselfish, laborious, devoted, and a man of one aim — the glory of God. But the deepest and richest notes of spirituality are struck in his poems. They show more than anything else how truly he breathed the atmosphere of heaven. We quote a few verses.

The Call

What powerful, mighty Voice, so near,
Calls me from earth apart —
Reaches with tones so still, so clear,
From the unseen world my heart?
’Tis solemn; yet it draws with power
And sweetness yet unknown:
It speaks the language of an hour
When earth’s forever gone.

• • •

Blest Lord, Thou spak’st! ’Twas erst Thy voice
That led my heart to Thee —
That drew me to that better choice
Where grace has set me free!
My happiness, O Lord, with Thee
Is long laid up in store,
For that blest day when Thee I’ll see,
And conflict all be o’er.
Yes! Love divine in Thee I know;
The Father’s glories soon
Shall burst upon my ravished view —
Thyself my eternal crown!

1832

The Saints’ Rest

Rest of the saints above,
Jerusalem of God!
Who, in thy palaces of love,
Thy golden streets have trod,
To me thy joy to tell?
Those courts secure from ill,
Where God Himself vouchsafes to dwell
And every bosom fill!

• • •

There, only to adore
My soul its strength may find —
Its life, its joy forevermore,
By sight nor sense defined.
God and the Lamb shall there
The light and temple be,
And radiant hosts, forever, share
The unveiled mystery!

1845

Love Divine

O Mind divine! So must it be,
That glory, all, belongs to God!
O Love divine! That did decree
We should be part, through Jesus’ blood!
Oh, keep us, Love divine, near Thee,
That we our nothingness may know,
And ever to Thy glory be —
Walking in faith while here below.

1880

Darby was not a sectarian. In his heart he embraced every lover of Christ, and the ground he stood on was ground which belongs to all the people of God, namely to “depart from iniquity ... and follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart” (2 Tim. 2:19,22), taking the Scriptures alone as the sole and all-sufficient guide for faith and conduct. He viewed the Church publicly as in irremediable ruin and believed that the path for those who sought to be true to Christ was one of individual faithfulness. The faithful would thereby find themselves on common ground and, walking in the light, as God is in the light, would enjoy fellowship with one another.

He told a friend a few weeks before his death, “There are three things which I have dwelt much upon:

God is my Father, and I am His gift to His Son.

Christ is my righteousness.

Christ is my object in life and my joy for eternity.”

He fell asleep in Jesus on April 29, 1882.

George Mueller

In the early years of the nineteenth century, there was little evidence of Christian life in Germany. Lutheranism was dead. There had been no counterpart there to the Great Awakening which had so revived Christianity in England in the latter part of the eighteenth century, and the Napoleonic wars had made matters worse.

There were, however, lights burning here and there. Often a few, faithful believers would gather together to read the Scriptures and pray together in a house. Preaching or teaching was forbidden in the territory of the King of Prussia. But they could read and pray. Such a little gathering was wont to meet in Halle in the home of a godly tradesman named Wagner. One Saturday afternoon, two young students from the University came in and were warmly welcomed. One was a backslider who had had, in earlier days, Christian impressions. The other was George Mueller, then a rather reckless, pleasure-loving youth, addicted to drink. There were many like him in that University, once famous as the center of Pietism, where Franke had taught, and where, a century before, Zinzendorf had been a student. There were nine hundred students of divinity in the days of which we speak and scarcely any with the knowledge of God.

Mueller’s conscience made him feel ill at ease in such pious company, and he made some kind of apology. “Come,” said the kind Wagner, “as often as you please.” The proceedings were a revelation to Mueller. He did not even possess a Bible. When one of the company fell on his knees to pray, he was amazed; he had never knelt down to pray himself nor seen anyone else do so, divinity student though he was. The Spirit of God began to work in his heart. He could not wait for the next meeting. He must go again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. Gladly he drank in the truth as unfolded to him from the Word of God. It was November 1825 when he found peace with God. For four years, however, he passed through a time of testing and struggle. He thought of taking up missionary work. His father, bitterly disappointed, refused his sanction.

Dr. Tholuck, a truly evangelical man, had meantime come to the university, and by his influence, it underwent a great change. Young Mueller had now lost his father’s support. By a remarkable, providential ordering, a gift reached him from an anonymous donor, and this led him to deep thanksgiving and a fresh dedication to God’s service. He had become very proficient in Hebrew, and Dr. Tholuck suggested he should work among the Jews. Accepting work under a London Society for promoting Christianity among the Jews, he came to London in 1829.

The widespread movement of the “Brethren” had just begun, and Mueller was evidently influenced. He felt he could no longer accept a commission to serve God from a Society. He must be sent of God and rely on the arm of the Lord alone. The essential features of the truth then exercising those who were leaving the Churches and sects laid a powerful hold upon him. He married, about this time, the sister of A. N. Groves, a dentist who had given up a very lucrative calling to serve as a missionary at Baghdad. Going later to Teignmouth, he met a godly and learned but humble-minded man named Craik. Mueller and Craik entered into a partnership in service which continued many years.

Mueller had no income and depended entirely on the freewill offerings of those he served, for he refused any salary. The result was that he and his wife often did not know where the next meal was coming from. It was thus he learned that utter dependence on God’s provision which enabled him in after years to build a great orphanage and feed and educate thousands of children.

Mueller and Craik were then led to Bristol, where they secured two chapels, one named Gideon and the other Bethesda. Here they labored, preaching and teaching. A little company of believers was gathered, consisting, at first, of Craik, Mueller, another man and four women — seven in all. They gathered in scriptural simplicity, desiring only to act as the Lord should be pleased to give light through His Word. In time they were joined by many others.

It was the time of the cholera plague in Europe. The disease attacked Bristol, and many were carried off. Craik and Mueller were in constant attendance on the sick and dying, carrying to them the water of life. Disease apart, the condition of the poor at this time was pitiable. Mueller was on his knees praying, not for means for himself, but for money to relieve the prevailing distress. That same hour the postman arrived with a gift of £60.

Two years had passed since his arrival in Bristol. His teaching and preaching kept him busy, but he would do more for the extension of God’s kingdom. He conceived a rather bold plan to spread the gospel and circulate the Bible. He proposed to found what he called the Scriptural Knowledge Institution. He had not a penny of his own. No one was to be asked to contribute. He would pray —simply pray and trust. He planned also to establish Day Schools and Sunday schools in which children would be instructed, not only in knowledge, but in the Scriptures. In the following year, there were five such schools, two for boys and three for girls. But there were still many poor, homeless, neglected waifs, and his heart went out to these. He put before his brethren his plan for a home for orphans, and helpers were secured. Thus began the work which became so well-known. No money was ever solicited; it all came in answer to prayer. Many times funds were low or quite exhausted, but God never failed to supply the needs. “Lord,” he prayed, “I believe that Thou wilt give me all I need for this work. I am sure I shall have all, because I believe that I receive in answer to my prayer.”

The total of all the money received in answer to prayer during his lifetime amounted to nearly one and a half million pounds (equal to several times that sum at today’s purchasing value of the pound).

He was able in his lifetime to educate and provide for nearly ten thousand orphans in his Homes at Bristol, of whom half confessed the Lord. He also founded schools in Scotland, India, Straits of Malacca, British Guiana, Essequebo, Belize, Spain, France and Italy, a total of 117, in which 122,000 young people were educated and of whom 20,000 were reported to have been converted. The circulation of Bibles amounted to 279,000, as well as 1,440,000 New Testaments and 109,000,000 tracts and booklets.

When seventy years of age, he left the orphanage in other hands and traveled about, preaching and giving addresses. This he continued to do for twenty years, during which time he visited forty-two different countries. He lived after this another three years, reaching the advanced age of ninety-three. He died practically without means, having spent all he received on the objects to which he devoted his life.

The following brief details of gifted men among the first generation of Brethren are given in order of date of birth. Lack of fuller details and limitations of space combine to make these references briefer than we would wish.

J. L. Harris (1793-1877) became associated with brethren meeting in Plymouth in 1832, having been previously curate of Plymstock. He wrote much and edited the first magazine of the Brethren, the Christian Witness in 1834. It was he who first noticed and drew attention to the heretical teachings of B. W. Newton. He and Newton were, at that time, the two leading brethren in the Plymouth gathering.

J. G. Bellett (1795-1864). Bellett was one of the few who met with Darby and others to break bread in Dublin in 1828. J. N. Darby and he were both at Trinity College, Dublin; both were called to the Bar in that city. The work of God began in both when they were young, and they were lifelong friends. His ministry was of a very spiritual character. As a writer, his style is elegant. His books on the patriarchs, the evangelists, and the moral glory of the Lord Jesus have always been greatly valued.

Sir Edward Denny (1796-1889). Although a man of noble birth and considerable wealth, Sir Edward Denny threw in his lot with the poor of the flock. He wrote a number of hymns and poems. He also published some interesting prophetical charts. He lived in a quiet, simple style himself, using his money for the furtherance of God’s work and the relief of the poor.

G. V. Wigram (1805-1879), twentieth child of Sir Robert Wigram, was educated at Oxford University and converted while a subaltern in the Army. He was one of the first of those who gathered to the name of the Lord at Plymouth in 1830. From 1838 he was actively connected with the gatherings in London. He was the sponsor of the Englishman’s Greek and English Concordance and the Englishman’s Hebrew and Chaldee Concordance—valuable helps to those who, though not Greek or Hebrew scholars, desire to become acquainted with the words used in the original language of the Bible. He edited the second Brethren periodical, The Present Testimony, and, in 1856, the collection of hymns entitled Hymns for the Poor of the Flock. He was closely associated with J. N. Darby throughout his life. He paid a number of visits to New Zealand, the West Indies and elsewhere, where his ministry was greatly valued. His writings reflect his spirituality and grasp of the truth.

Lord Congleton (1805-1873) was another of the little group that first met in Dublin — in fact, it was he who hired the first public room in 1830 in Aungier Street. In September 1830, he went with others to join A. N. Groves, who had given up a lucrative profession as a dentist to undertake missionary service. Groves was then in Baghdad, where Mrs. Groves later died with the Plague. As there was no opening for the gospel in Baghdad, they went to India. Lord Congleton returned in 1837, continuing his service in England, but Groves labored on in India and saw some fruit for his labors.

J. G. Deck (1807-1884). In 1824 J. G. Deck went to India as an Army Officer, but he was converted two years later, after his return to England. He became a fearless witness among his fellow-officers, but as his light increased, he felt compelled to leave the army, intending to become a clergyman. He saw, however, that there was much in the Establishment not according to the Word of God and decided to follow that Word alone. As a result of his preaching in Devonshire villages, many were converted and gathered in simplicity to the Lord’s name. He is best known by his hymns, of which many are sung today. In 1853 he went to New Zealand, where he labored among the Lord’s people till his death.

J. B. Stoney (1814-1897) was a native of Ireland. At fifteen he entered Trinity College, Dublin. When in 1831 cholera broke out in Dublin, he was taken ill and cried to God for mercy. Having given his heart to the Lord, he abandoned his studies for the Bar and proposed to enter the ministry. He did not wait, however, for human ordination but at once began to preach the gospel. He was led later to throw in his lot with those who were leaving human systems and gathering together simply to the Lord’s name. Among them he was greatly used. One of his works, Discipline in the School of God, is well-known. He was truly a man of God.

William Kelly (1820-1906) was born in Ireland but lived for many years in Guernsey and later in London. When about twenty years of age, he joined the many then gathering in simplicity to the name of the Lord. He was a gifted teacher and able expositor of the Word. Beside his own works, he edited the Collected Writings of J. N. Darby, in itself a valuable service to his own and later generations.

C. H. Mackintosh (1820-1896) was born in Ireland, awakened by letters from his own sister when he was eighteen, and obtained peace through a paper written by J. N. Darby. As author of the widely-read Notes on the Pentateuch, his name is well-known. He labored much and effectively in the gospel, especially during the Revival in 18591860. His writings helped many in all parts of the world, beside those who gathered with Brethren.

C. Stanley (1821-1888) was an outstanding evangelist. He seldom spoke to souls or preached without blessing resulting. He wrote many gospel tracts, which were also very greatly blessed. One piece of advice is characteristic of him. He said, “I have always found blessing and results in proportion to communion with Christ in His love to the whole Church, whether in writing or preaching, and no Christian can prosper in his own soul unless he is seeking the welfare of others.”

A. Midlane (1825-1909), born in the Isle of Wight, is best known as a hymn writer and especially as the author of “There’s a friend for little children.” This first appeared as a contribution to C. H. Mackintosh’s periodical Good News for the Young. It has been translated into a hundred languages and sung all over the world. He wrote many other hymns and poems. The gospel hymn beginning, “The perfect righteousness of God is witnessed in the Saviour’s blood,” has been scarcely equaled as a poetic presentation of the simple truth of the gospel.

Chapter 56

The recovery of the truth that led so many to leave the organized Churches was not answered by all. But God, as in days of old, did not forsake His people because they fell short of His purpose, and there were those who stood for the gospel in the various sections of Christendom. Our history would be incomplete if no account were taken of such men who, according to their light, contended “for the faith once delivered to the saints” (Jude 3 JND) and exerted a powerful influence against the evil forces at work in Christendom.

In the sixteenth chapter of Luke, the Lord tells of a rich man who, while faring sumptuously every day, ignored the hungry beggar who lay at his gate full of sores. In the nineteenth century, something like this existed on a national scale. As a consequence of the Napoleonic wars and the rapid changes brought about by the industrial revolution, there was widespread poverty and other social evils. In 1848 there are said to have been thirty thousand filthy, naked, lawless, deserted children in the metropolis. In the coal mines, children as young as five were crawling on their hands and knees for twelve or more hours a day, dragging behind them, like miniature horses, little trucks of coal. Women, too, worked there like beasts of burden. The mingling of men and women in those dark caverns led to the worst of evils, while the long hours of toil in dust and damp and darkness brought on premature old age. In the newly developed factories also, little children and mothers of families toiled from morning till night, often under harsh and callous foremen. The rich worldlings cared little for the conditions of the poor. Herbert Spencer taught that such hardship and suffering was part of the natural law of evolutionary progress.

Many Christian men did what they could to mitigate these evils, but one stands out preeminently as devoting his life to the alleviation of human misery and suffering among the poor by all the means in his power. This was Anthony Ashley Cooper, seventh Earl of Shaftesbury, who was born in 1801. His father was callous; his mother a woman of society. As a child, he was neglected by both. He received neither love nor care from either of his parents. An old servant not only showed him much affection but taught him the knowledge of God. She read the Bible to him and gave him a true Christian training. Before he was eight, she died, and he mourned her loss as the best friend he had had in the world. Alone, friendless and unhappy, he nourished the hunger of his soul on the book he had learned to know on his old friend’s knee — the Bible. At twenty-six, he entered Parliament, and the following entry in his diary shows the bent of his mind at that time.

“Whether I shall ever be well-off, God alone knows, but this I pray, that never asking for wealth, should it be sent me, I may receive at the same time a heart and spirit to lay it out for man’s happiness and God’s glory.”

That prayer was answered. When, in 1851, he succeeded to the earldom, his own estates called for his first attention, for his father had paid no regard to the needs of his tenants. He mortgaged his own property to give his tenants decent living amenities, and among other things he paid a Scripture reader to visit his people in their homes.

He turned his attention to the alleviation of the awful conditions then existing in lunatic asylums. He strove to improve the lodging houses. He fostered the Ragged Schools and took an interest in Christian work in the slums of London. On one occasion, he received a round-robin, asking him to meet a number of thieves in London. He kept the appointment together with the City Missionary and found himself with an audience of four hundred criminals before him. The story of the dying thief was read to them; prayer followed. The men were invited to unburden their minds. Many pleaded for a fresh chance in life. As a result, he made arrangements for three hundred of them to emigrate to the colonies, where most of them made good.

On another occasion, he visited, with others, a foul, reeking, vermin-infested spot under Holborn Arches where the vicious and the wretched lay on rotten, filthy straw or in a hole hollowed out of the soil. Braving the stench and dangers of that resort of crime and squalor, he and his companions were busy from midnight till two in the morning rescuing thirty of these poor outcasts and taking them to the comparative comfort of one of the rooms used for a Ragged School.

Largely through his influence and pleading, the awful conditions in the mines and factories were greatly ameliorated. But Christian love was his motive. He maintained that Democrats and Trade Unionists who were working from merely human motives were only setting up false idols. He was a truly earnest Christian and a man of prayer. His labors were the outcome of his faith — the simple faith of the gospel.

It was at this time that Herbert Spencer was busy formulating his evolutionary philosophy based on the survival of the fittest, a philosophy to which, in later years, the horrors of Nazism can be clearly traced. Much about this time, too, Karl Marx was busy formulating the communistic creed, another evil doctrine which has opened up for the world a vista of terror, the end of which cannot even yet be seen. What a contrast this affords with the fruits of Christian faith.

A few extracts from Lord Shaftesbury’s biography by Edwin Hodder will prove that his faith was the good old biblical faith, which alone, in all ages, has had power. He said on one occasion:

“For my own part, I believe that the sole remedy is one of the oldest — not amusements for the people or a system of secular education or this thing and another that are suggested; the sole, the sovereign remedy, in my opinion, is to do what we can to evangelize the people by preaching on every occasion and in every place, in the grandest cathedral and at the corner of the street, in the royal palace and in the back slums, preaching Christ to the people, determined, like St. Paul, not to ‘know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified’ (1 Cor. 2:2).”

“Lord Shaftesbury never questioned the inspiration of the Scriptures; his faith was never staggered by the difficulties involved in the acceptance of the whole of the Bible, from the first chapter of Genesis to the last chapter of Revelation. ‘Thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter’ (John 13:7) was a favorite text with him, and he applied it to questions upon which other men’s minds were perplexed. For himself, he was content to wait, convinced that for all the things hard to be understood there was an explanation forthcoming, even though it might not come to him.”

He had a childlike confidence in God as the hearer and answerer of prayer, and he believed implicitly in the second coming of the Lord. “It entered into all his thoughts and feelings; it stimulated him in the midst of all his labors; it gave tone and color to all his hopes for the future. The motto engraven upon the flaps of the envelopes he daily used bore the inscription: ‘Even so, come, Lord Jesus’ (Rev. 22:20) in the original Greek.”

“I cannot tell you how it was that this subject first took hold upon me,” said Lord Shaftesbury to his biographer. “It has been, as far as I can remember, a subject to which I have always held tenaciously. Belief in it has been a moving principle in my life, for I see everything going on in the world subordinate to this one great event. It is not a popular doctrine; it is not, as it should be, the hope of the Church; it is, as a rule, held only by the poor. I have on several occasions taken upon me to point out to the clergy that it should be one of the main subjects of preaching. I made a speech at Exeter Hall and said, ‘You begin to see that the world cannot be saved by human agency; it must be by the coming again of Christ. As a Church, you are full of self-righteousness. You think you can do all by yourselves and do not even hint at a second advent.’ Things are better than they were, however. I remember the time when it was the rarest thing possible to hear the subject referred to.”

On another occasion he wrote:

“This dispensation seems to be drawing to a close, yet our Lord delayeth His coming. And why? Perhaps He comes not because so few people ask Him to come. Were effectual, fervent prayer of righteous men multiplied a hundredfold, the state of things might be changed, and many now alive might live to see the fulfillment of the promise which is the grand and only hope of all the ends of the earth.”

“Miss Marsh, one of his greatly valued friends, writing after his decease an ‘In Memoriam’ letter to the Record, remarks, ‘“There is no real remedy,” he often said, “for all this mass of misery, but in the return of our Lord Jesus Christ. Why do we not plead for it every time we hear the clock strike?” ’”

Frequently, in his closing days, he uttered the prayer, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly,” and the last words he spoke were, “I am in the hands of God, the ever-blessed Jehovah — His hands alone. Yes, in His keeping, with Him alone.” He finished his course in 1885.

He declined an Abbey burial and directed that upon his tomb his name and three Bible texts should alone be inscribed:

“What hast thou that thou didst not receive?” (1 Cor. 4:7).

“Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall” (1 Cor. 10:12).

“Surely I come quickly: Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus” (Rev. 22:20).

London in the middle of the nineteenth century was, as we have already seen, a very different city from what it is today. Its social condition then was very bad. There were vast areas of slums. Over three thousand children under fourteen years of age were living as thieves and beggars. More than twenty thousand over fifteen years of age roamed the streets in idleness, and a hundred thousand were without any education. The Ragged Schools, which Christian folk had founded, were places of peril even to their teachers, and tens of thousands had no other homes than the common lodging houses which have been described as more fit for pigs than human beings. We have already seen something of the efforts that Christian people were making to remedy this state of affairs.

It was at such a time that God raised up a messenger to speak His Word to the people of London. This was Charles Haddon Spurgeon, whose history proves that he was raised up and fitted by God for the work to which he was called. He was born at Kelvedon in 1834. His great-grandfather, Job Spurgeon, in the seventeenth century, suffered imprisonment for attending a Non-Conformist meeting. His grandfather was, for fifty-four years, pastor to a company of Christians who met at Stambourne, Essex. His father, too, was minister of an independent church. His mother was an earnest Christian who prayed much for her family and especially for her eldest and self-willed boy Charles. Every Sunday evening she gathered her children around her, and as they read the Scriptures she explained them. Then she prayed with them, and some of her words remained engraved on their memories for the rest of their lives. Father and grandfather played their part in implanting in Spurgeon’s young mind the truths of the gospel. By these means the Spirit of God wrought in his soul, but he was a lad in his teens before he surrendered his heart to the Lord. Prolonged and intense exercises went on in his young heart. As they grew in intensity, he says, “I cried to God with groanings — I say it without exaggeration — groanings that cannot be uttered! And oh, how I sought, in my poor, dark way, to overcome first one sin and then another and so to do better, in God’s strength, against the enemies that assailed me, and not, thank God, altogether without success, though still the battle had been lost unless He had come, who is the Overcomer of sin and the Deliverer of His people, and had put the hosts to flight.” But deliverance had not come yet. The thunders of Sinai still echoed in his soul. Then came a memorable day, Sunday, January 6, 1850. He had already been to one place of worship after another seeking to hear a word of peace. This Sunday morning a violent snowstorm was raging, and he was prevented from reaching the chapel he intended. He took refuge from the storm in the Primitive Methodist Chapel in Artillery Street, Colchester. Truly, God moves in a mysterious way. The storm prevented the preacher from coming. Only a dozen or so were present, and after a hurried consultation, one of them, an uneducated villager, mounted the pulpit. The text was, “Look unto Me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth” (Isa. 45:22). The preacher uttered a few simple, homely comments on the text, in broad Essex dialect, and after about ten minutes seemed to come to the end of his tether. Then suddenly he fixed his eyes on the fifteen-year-old lad and said, “Young man, you look very miserable; you will always be miserable, miserable in life and miserable in death, if you don’t obey my text, but if you obey now, this moment you will be saved.” Then lifting up his hands to emphasize his words, he shouted, “Young man, look to Jesus Christ! Look! Look! Look! You have nothin’ to do but look and live.” A fine sermon might have effected nothing. That simple man’s simple, direct, personal message broke young Spurgeon’s chains in a moment. He looked and he lived. He had been waiting, he afterwards said, to do many things, but when he heard the word, “Look,” he could have looked his eyes away. “I thought,” he said, “I could dance all the way home. I could understand what John Bunyan meant when he declared he wanted to tell the crows on the ploughed land all about his conversion.”

He became exercised about baptism, and in May he was baptized publicly in the River Lark. He began to distribute tracts. This was his first service. Then he became a Sunday school teacher. He was soon invited to give the closing address, and it was so attractive that the older people began to come and listen. Thus early did his gift make room for him.

He was induced shortly after to accompany another and older man to a meeting at Barnwell. On arrival, the older man declined the task and young Spurgeon was left to take it up. “Give them,” said the other, on seeing Spurgeon’s diffidence, “one of your Sunday school addresses.” He was immediately booked for preaching both on Sundays and weekdays in the places around. In October 1851, when he was still only seventeen years of age, he was engaged to supply the pulpit of a chapel at Waterbeach near Cambridge.

“Waterbeach was notorious for its drunkenness and profanity when Spurgeon went to it as God’s messenger. ‘In a short time the little thatched chapel was crammed, the biggest vagabonds of the village were weeping floods of tears, and those who had been the curse of the parish became its blessing. I can say with joy and happiness that almost from one end of the village to the other, at the hour of eventide, one might have heard the voice of song coming from every rooftree and echoing from almost every heart.’” It recalls the effect of Richard Baxter’s preaching at Kidderminster in the seventeenth century.

There was a large Baptist Church at New Park Street, London, with accommodation for twelve hundred but which was attended by two hundred at the most. It was in an uninviting neighborhood and people had moved to more desirable parts. This congregation wanted a minister. Someone had heard Spurgeon preach and, young though he was — only nineteen — dared to recommend him. When the invitation came for one Sunday, the young preacher did not believe it could be meant for him. In reply, he indicated his youth and that he was quite unknown outside his own country district. But he went. No one offered him hospitality. He had a cold, almost rude, reception. In fear and trembling, he preached in that large building to eighty people. One of the deacons expressed the opinion that if the preacher were with them three months, the place would be filled. The congregation insisted on every effort being made to secure his services. He was very reluctant to accept a term of six months’ service, but when he finally yielded to their entreaties, he asked for their prayers, adding, “Remember my youth and inexperience and pray that these may not hinder my usefulness.”

Writing later of those early years of his service, when he was still only twenty years of age, he says, “In the year 1854, when I had scarcely been in London twelve months, the neighborhood in which I lived was visited by Asiatic cholera, and my congregation suffered from its inroads. Family after family summoned me to the bedside of the smitten, and almost every day I was called to visit the grave. I gave myself up with youthful ardor to the visitation of the sick and was sent for from all quarters of the district by persons of all ranks and religions. I became weary in body and sick at heart. My friends seemed falling one by one, and I felt or fancied that I was sickening like those around me. A little more work and weeping would have laid me low among the rest: I felt that my burden was heavier than I could bear, and I was ready to sink under it. As God would have it, I was returning mournfully from a funeral, when my curiosity led me to read a paper which was pasted up in a shoemaker’s shop in Dover Road. It did not look like a trade announcement, nor was it, for it bore in a good, bold handwriting these words: ‘Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habitation; there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling’ (Psa. 91:9-10). The effect on my heart was immediate. Faith appropriated the passage as her own. I felt secure, refreshed and girded with immortality. I went on with my visitation of the dying in a calm and peaceful spirit; I felt no fear of evil and I suffered no harm. The providence which moved the tradesman to place those verses on the window I gratefully acknowledge, and in the remembrance of its marvelous power I adore the Lord my God.”

During alterations to the Chapel, Exeter Hall was taken as a temporary measure, but it proved too small for the crowds that came to listen. Later, and again as a temporary expedient, the Surrey Music Hall, capable of seating ten thousand, was used. It was filled, and another ten thousand remained in the gardens. Early in the service someone maliciously raised the cry of fire. There was a stampede and a number were injured and several killed. Spurgeon was carried out fainting, and it was a week before he recovered. He suffered intensely. The entire press raised its voice in reproach. But the meetings were later resumed, though in the morning and not the evening, and continued for three years.

On the day of National Humiliation for the Indian Mutiny, he preached at the Crystal Palace to nearly twenty-four thousand people. A few days prior to this event, he went to try the acoustics of the place. The sentence he uttered was, “Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). To a workman in the galleries who heard it, it was a voice from heaven. He dropped his tools, went home and did not rest until he knew Christ as his Saviour.

When the Surrey Gardens Hall was later used for Sunday evening concerts, Spurgeon withdrew. The project failed and the proprietors became bankrupt. The building was afterwards destroyed by fire.

He paid several visits to the Continent, preaching in Paris, Geneva and Holland, where he had a heart-to-heart talk with the Queen. His visits to the Provinces were also greatly blessed. Urged to go to America by the promise of thousands of listeners, he replied that he had no wish to speak to ten thousand people; his only ambition was to do the will of God.

In March 1861, the great Metropolitan Tabernacle was opened, where he preached for the rest of his life. It could hold about six thousand people — sometimes it held more. During the ensuing years, thousands were converted. A friendly critic once suggested that the sermons he preached between 1860-1867 (the first seven years of his service in the Tabernacle) were not on the high level of the earlier or later ones. It is strange that this coincides with the beginning of his Tabernacle service. When the Tabernacle project was being discussed, he said, “I made up my mind that either a suitable place must be built or I would resign my pastorate. You by no means consented to the latter alternative, yet I sternly resolved that one or the other must be done —either the Tabernacle must be erected or I would become an evangelist and turn rural dean of all the commons in England and vicar of all the hedgerows.”

What, one wonders, might have been the result if he had adopted the other alternative and, like Whitefield and Wesley, gone out into the highways and hedges, compelling men to come into the gospel feast. Scripture defines the evangelist as a gift to the whole Church. His orbit is unlimited. Paul, the greatest among evangelists, never settled down to be a pastor. His longest stay at Ephesus was three years, but the whole of Asia heard the Word in that time. One of the fundamental errors of Christendom has been the confusing of the function of gift, which is universal, and that of oversight (eldership), which is local.

Spurgeon held tenaciously to “the faith once delivered to the saints” (Jude 3 JND). In 1887 he raised his voice against the infiltration of modernistic notions. At first he wrote in general terms as to the growing declension in faith, but later he was more specific and referred to the Baptist Union. In consequence, he found himself outside the Baptist Union.

Here are some words of his, uttered in the very thick of the conflict: “Why not found a new denomination? It is a question for which I have no liking. There are denominations enough, in my opinion, and if there is a new denomination formed, the thieves and robbers who have entered other gardens walled around would climb into it also, and nothing would be gained. Oh, that the day would come when, in a larger communion than any sect can offer, all those who are one in Christ may be able to blend in perfect unity. This can only be by way of growing spiritual life, clearer light upon the more eternal truth, and a closer cleaving to Him who is the Head, even Jesus Christ.”

The conflict seems to have clouded his last days. As he was leaving for Mentone, where, in fact, he went to die, he said to a friend, “The fight is killing me.” There he revived a little, but he did not return alive. Peacefully on January 31, 1892, his spirit departed to be with the Saviour he loved so ardently and served so faithfully and so well. He awaits with a host of fellow-laborers an abundant entrance into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

Chapter 57

The mighty movement of the Spirit of God, which aroused a dead Christendom about the middle of the eighteenth century, continued, as we have seen, into the early years of the nineteenth. Decline was beginning to manifest itself and the enemy’s opposition was beginning to take effect when a further, powerful, divine impulse was felt especially in America and the British Isles.

It differed in certain respects from the previous movement. In the first place, it was not characterized by such outstanding figures as Whitefield and Wesley, arousing the almost heathen masses. It was like a breath of divine power bringing conviction of sin to tens of thousands of nominal churchgoers as well as to out-and-out sinners. Many were stirred by a deep conviction of sin and sought the evangelist instead of the evangelist having to seek them. Prayer on the part of Christians for the salvation of sinners was a prominent feature, and in answer to these prayers thousands flocked to the churches.

It began in America with lunch-hour prayer meetings in New York. The preachings followed. There was no concerted plan of action — no campaign — at any rate, not in the beginning. The history of the awakening in the British Isles is a wonderful example of answered prayer and a great incentive to intercession, on the part of believers, for all men. In the autumn of 1857, there was a trade recession in America. Trouble often turns men to God when prosperity makes them forgetful. Jeremiah Lanphier, a City Missionary connected with the North Dutch Church in New York, opened a room in Fulton Street and invited businessmen to gather for prayer during the lunch hour. Very few attended at first, but the numbers gradually increased. The room, before long, was filled to overflowing. A second and third room were opened and all were filled, and the building resounded with prayer and praise. Many other, similar gatherings were begun in other parts of the city. The whole city was moved. The exercise began with prayer; preaching followed. The churches and chapels were filled and preachings took place in other buildings, such as Burton’s Theater.

The movement soon spread all over America; every town and village was affected. There was no human effort; it was not planned or concerted by man. An unseen influence seemed to be at work throughout the land. It was not started by evangelists, nor was the movement confined to any sect. It seemed that men’s hearts and minds were prepared to receive the gospel. It was calculated that a million people professed conversion at that time, but, figures apart, there is no reason to doubt that abiding results followed.

In November 1856, a young Irishman named McQuilkin was converted as the result of a conversation with Mrs. Colville, an evangelical Englishwoman who was spending some months in Ballymena, his native town. After his conversion, McQuilkin was deeply impressed with the way God had answered George Mueller’s prayers. He and three friends had begun to meet for prayer and mutual edification in a schoolroom at Kells, a nearby village. Then the news arrived of the gospel awakening in America. “Why,” said McQuilkin to his companions, “may we not have such a blessed work here.” They began to pray. A few individual cases of conversion were the first fruits of encouragement. Before long, the evangelical Churches in Ulster were stirred by the reports of blessing in the United States. The family of one of the four living in Ahoghill, not far away, was converted. Others were added. Greatly encouraged, McQuilkin and two of his friends proceeded to Ahoghill and held meetings in one of the Presbyterian churches. Prayer meetings multiplied. Interest was quickened. On March 14 a meeting was held in another Presbyterian church in the village. So many tried to attend that a collapse of the galleries was feared, and the congregation dismissed. Three thousand stood in the rain and listened to a layman preaching. It is worthwhile to emphasize the circumstances. We have not here a crowd drawn to hear a popular speaker. These three thousand people had been turned out of the church; outside, a chilly rain was falling. They had every reason to seek the shelter of their homes; instead, they waited and listened to an unknown layman who stood up and delivered, on the spur of the moment, a gospel appeal. Hundreds fell upon their knees in the muddy streets, some overcome by an intense conviction of sin.

The minister of the church in question recorded that seven hundred adherents of his church were “awakened” at this time. Before, they were Christians only in name. The local ministers generally were convinced it was a work of God. “Drunkards, blasphemers, harlots and thieves, on the one hand, and the respectable, the moral, the educated and the intelligent, on the other, were instantaneously converted to a new way of life.” A wicked youth who came to mock was struck down and lay as dead. Then he awoke to cry, “Lord, save me; I perish!” From then on, all the three Presbyterian churches in the village were crowded. So began a wave of blessing that swept over Ireland with irresistible power.

The town of Ballymena, three miles from Ahoghill, was soon stirred from end to end. Five thousand people stood in a quarry and heard a converted drunkard testify to the way in which Jesus had delivered him from the chains of sin. Conviction with some was so intense as to produce nervous prostration. Such cases disturbed many and were used by enemies to discredit what was happening. After allowing for human excitement or even, in some cases, the work of the enemy, it is not surprising if souls suddenly awakened to the peril of a lost eternity were so overcome that nature temporarily gave way. But in such cases, when the sense of forgiveness entered their souls, they were filled with joy, glorifying God, and began to desire the blessing of others. From Roman Catholics and Unitarians there was strong opposition. Brownlow North preached at this time to eleven thousand in the open air. Village after village in the entire county of Antrim was affected. The miners in the salt mines held daily prayer meetings.

In May the revival reached Belfast. The churches were crowded. A mass meeting for prayer held in the Botanic Gardens in the summer was attended by fifteen thousand. In July, Grattan Guinness preached to fifteen thousand in the open air. In August, the churches of all the denominations were filled to overflow. Another meeting in the middle of August in the Botanic Gardens was attended by twenty thousand people. The October races that year were attended by only five hundred people instead of the usual ten thousand.

It is impossible here to follow the detailed history of this remarkable movement as it spread all over the land. The greatest blessing was in the Protestant parts of the country, but southern Ireland was not left without a testimony. C. H. Spurgeon preached in Dublin on five occasions to audiences of three thousand. It was in Dublin that Sir Robert Anderson, then a young man and later Assistant Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, was converted. He became a well-known evangelist. In Kerry County, several landed proprietors were converted through the labors of C. H. Mackintosh (author of Notes on the Pentateuch). It was estimated that as the immediate fruit of the revival 100,000 persons were saved. The full results are only known to God.

The blessing was not confined to Ireland. While all this was going on, the Spirit of God was also working in Scotland. Here, too, the news of blessing in the States stirred up Christians to pray for similar blessing for their own country. In the fall of 1858, prayer meetings were being held in Aberdeen. In August of the following year, a meeting was held on Glasgow Green at which twenty thousand people were present. Numerous prayer meetings were held in this city also. The Glasgow Commonwealth reported:

“The wonderful change that is perceptible on the very surface of society is now frequently the subject of remark. In the family party, in the bus or railway carriage, on board the steamer, in the street, on change, it is no longer a strange thing to hear people as Christians able to ‘give ... a reason of the hope that is in [them]’ (1 Peter 3:15), or ... as earnest inquirers more or less audibly demanding, ‘What must [we] do to be saved?’ (Acts 16:30).”

For a whole year, the interest was sustained. Once again, in September 1860, twenty thousand gathered on Glasgow Green to hear the gospel. Among the preachers was a butcher named Robert Cunningham.

The blessing was not confined to Glasgow. The whole of Scotland was moved. North and south, east and west — from the border towns up to the Moray Firth — beyond to the Orkney Islands, even to the smallest islands off the coast — there is the same story to be told, the story of a deep longing for the water of life. When the wave of conversions had subsided, the results remained in the lives of thousands of persons who had passed from death unto life and remained faithful to the Lord to the end of their lives.

A similar account might be given of Wales. In his fully documented account of the revival in Wales, the author of the work already quoted says:

“The Rev. D. Charles, of Trevecca College, outlined three main characteristics of the Welsh Revival thus: firstly, an extraordinary spirit of prayer among the masses; secondly, a remarkable spirit of union among all denominations of Christians; and thirdly, a powerful missionary effort for the conversion of others. These three characteristics were displayed by the American, Irish and Scottish movements. Another remarkable affinity of movement is noticed in the fact that the Welsh Revival of 1859 was independent of great personalities.”

No live Christian could hear such news without a desire that a like blessing might be poured out on those around him. In August 1859, prayer meetings began in London. Some were held in the lunch hour, others at an earlier hour. On a bitterly cold morning in January 1860, a large hall in north London was filled at 9 a.m. with persons who had met for prayer. The number of prayer meetings became so large that they ceased to be enumerated. The evangelical Earl of Shaftesbury, anxious that the thousands who never attended a place of worship should not be deterred from hearing the gospel, arranged for a number of London theaters to be used for preaching. This move was criticized in certain quarters, but the numbers who attended these meetings have been estimated at a million each season for several years. Among those converted at one of these meetings was a young man who himself became a well-known evangelist among the Brethren, Dr. W. T. P. Wolston. These were, of course, in addition to the preachings in churches and chapels throughout London. From St. Paul’s Cathedral, a truly evangelical message sounded forth, while Spurgeon’s church was then being attended by such numbers that the decision was taken to build the Metropolitan Tabernacle.

In every town and village throughout the land, there was an ear for the gospel, and everywhere laborers were busy reaping the evangelical harvest. At this time, William Booth and his wife visited Cornwall, and his preaching resulted in hundreds of conversions. Crowds who could not get into the hall in which he was preaching were addressed by other evangelists. This was before his inauguration of the Salvation Army. At this time, he was a Methodist lay preacher, but he was excluded by the official body because he was a so-called “Revivalist.”

Handley Moule, who afterwards became Bishop of Durham, recalling the impressions of his boyhood, said that this was a wonderful epoch in the parish. There was no excitement, no powerful personalities, yet the church was thronged to overflowing night after night, as well as the schoolroom. The simplest means were blessed: Sometimes people were brought to God by the reading of a chapter of the Bible. Hundreds were converted and the results were abiding.

The results were the same throughout the land. Everywhere ardent evangelists were gathering in the harvest. In 1863, four years after the beginning of the movement, we read of Richard Weaver, a converted pugilist, addressing five thousand at the Leeds amphitheater while a local preacher addressed a thousand who were unable to gain admittance. Over twenty thousand attended four such services, many coming long distances. The work continued into 1865.

Space precludes further details. Among the outstanding evangelists whom God used at this time was Grattan Guinness, who once addressed twenty thousand people in Ulster from the top of a cab. Relating his impressions of this period many years later, he said that “ministers were occupied until midnight, or even till two or three o’clock in the morning, conversing with crowds of inquirers who were crying, ‘What shall [we] do to be saved?’ (Acts 16:30).”

Richard Weaver, miner and boxer, was much used among the working classes. On one occasion, in answer to the challenge of an objector, he held out his cheek for a blow, which was violently given, and then, true to the Lord’s words, he presented the other cheek. His opposer forbore to strike again. He then fell upon his knees and prayed for him. Years later, he met the one who struck — then a truly converted man. The names of many others whom God used at this time might be cited, but the roll is too long for our pages.

The wave of blessing which began in the late 1850s continued to flow for many years. In 1872 a bed-ridden Christian lady, feeling her helplessness, was led to pray that God might bring blessing to her church in north London. She prayed for this earnestly night and day.

In June of that year, a young evangelist on a visit from America was invited to preach. He agreed rather reluctantly. The morning preaching lacked interest, and he felt his time lost. At 6:30 p.m. he preached again. While preaching, he had a sense that the Spirit of God was working. When he finished, he asked any who would like to become Christians to stand up and he would pray for them. To his amazement, most of the congregation rose. He had never experienced anything like it before. Not knowing what to do and thinking he might have been misunderstood, he again put the question, this time suggesting that those who wished to become Christians should go into the inquiry room. To his great astonishment, they crowded into the inquiry room. The whole congregation was moved, and he appealed to those really in earnest to meet the pastor next night. The following day he went to Dublin, but he was urgently recalled by telegram, as there were more inquirers on Monday than on Sunday. He returned and held meetings for ten days. Four hundred persons were, as a result, added to the company. God had answered the prayer of the invalid lady with a blessing far beyond the expectations of any.

But there is a further significant detail. This praying Christian had seen an account in the paper of some meeting at which an evangelist, quite unknown to her, had preached, and she asked God to send him to her church. Great was her joy when her sister informed her that a Mr. Moody from America had been the preacher that night. He was the man whom she had asked God to send.

When Moody decided to visit England on that occasion, his object was not to preach, but to get help for himself, in the understanding of the Scriptures, from some whom he deemed could help him. The opportunity to preach was not sought, as far as he was concerned, so it was not a case of a worked-up revival. God was pleased to use Moody as the instrument in an outpouring of blessing which neither he nor the pastor had ever dreamed of, and thereby to answer the supplications of a bed-ridden saint who could do nothing but pray.

There is still another significant detail. Why did he ask those who wanted to be saved to rise? In the previous year, he had preached to a large audience in Chicago and taken as his text, “What shall I do then with Jesus which is called Christ?” (Matt. 27:22). In closing, he begged his audience to turn the question over in their minds during the week. That night the Hall in which he preached was destroyed by fire, for the whole city was swept by an awful conflagration in which his own home disappeared and many families were made homeless. None of those he had given a week to consider did he ever see again. Thenceforward, he determined when he preached to urge his hearers to receive Christ there and then.

The ways of God with his servants are always interesting and instructive. Moody was born in 1837. His mother was left a widow while he was a child. As a lad, he went to Boston. While working in a shoe store there, his Bible-class teacher visited him in the warehouse and urged him to give his heart to the Lord there and then. This he did on the spot. He took up Sunday school work and soon gathered a large crowd of children into the school. Another teacher, who had a class of very unruly girls, was smitten with tuberculosis and had to leave the city on account of his health. Before doing so, he visited, in Moody’s company, each of the girls in her home, and as a result of his earnest pleading — his own days were numbered — every one of them was brought to Christ.

The night of the stricken teacher’s departure, Moody called together the now converted young women for a prayer meeting. The dying man sat among them, prayed with them and exhorted them. One of the girls began to pray, and then they all prayed one by one. As he left, young Moody lifted up his heart to God and said, “O God, let me die rather than lose the blessing I have received tonight!”

Moody and the girls were on the platform next day to bid adieu to their friend. As the train moved off, they saw him standing on the platform of the rear coach, pointing with his finger to heaven. All this made a deep impression on Moody. He was on the verge of a successful career and had made £1,000 in commission in the course of a single year, a sum equal to £5,000 today.

Moody’s business career was finished. He threw himself into Christian work. Without any preconceived plan, without any Society to back him, this young man of twenty-two began to visit people in their homes, particularly interesting himself in the children. He became, in fact, a self-appointed city missionary. He was soon a well-known figure. The papers were full of jokes about him. He was nicknamed brother Moody. Sometimes he preached; more often, he secured the services of others. When Civil War broke out, he worked among the wounded on the battlefields. He also served among the soldiers in the Spanish-American War.

As time went on, he was more and more used as an evangelist until the visit to England with which this account begins. From then on to the end of his life in 1899, he was undoubtedly used to the blessing of many.

His revival methods have not met with universal approval, and the lasting character of the conversions has been questioned. But his theme was “Jesus Christ, and Him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2), and there can be no doubt that God, as ever, blessed such preaching.

One minister in New York said twenty years afterwards that most of some 120 converts who came to his church as a result of Moody’s mission in that city in 1876 were still continuing twenty years later.

Right up to the end of the century, the evangelical tide continued to flow. Not only had thousands in Europe and America been blessed, but the glad tidings of free salvation had been sounded abroad throughout the earth, and into its darkest corners the light had penetrated. The Bible, too, had been translated into many languages. This worldwide spread of the gospel calls for a chapter to itself.

Chapter 58

When the unnumbered host around the throne acclaim the worthiness of the Lamb, they sing, “Thou art worthy ... because Thou hast been slain, and hast redeemed to God, by Thy blood, out of every tribe, and tongue, and people, and nation” (Rev. 5:9 JND). “Every tribe, and tongue” cover the smallest distinct divisions of the human race. Men of every tribe and tongue will be among the host of the redeemed. This lends a vivid interest to the intense and worldwide activity of the Holy Spirit in the period we are now considering. Mankind had spread to the remotest corners of the earth and had multiplied as never before in history. Yet, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, millions had never heard of the Saviour. That the Scripture might be fulfilled, the Word must reach the farthest and darkest corners of the earth, and men of every tongue must hear it. But, as the Apostle says, “How shall they hear without one who preaches? And how shall they preach unless they have been sent?” (Rom. 10:14-15 JND).

There was doubtless a worldwide spread of the gospel in apostolic times, and it is not surprising that with the great recovery of truth at the close of the dispensation, when the light of the Lord’s coming was shining into many hearts, many should be filled with the desire to carry the good news to the heathen masses, sunk in darkness and superstition.

It is impossible in the space available to give anything like an adequate account of the way the gospel message was carried all over the earth in the nineteenth century. The field indeed is so vast and the story so full that volumes would be needed to do it justice. It must be a stony heart that is not moved and thrilled by the account of those who toiled and suffered sickness and hunger and thirst and who persevered in spite of many discouragements, even laying down their lives, some dying cruel deaths, to carry the message of salvation to their benighted fellows in far-off lands. No Christian can fail to rejoice in the account of darkened savages delivered out of Satan’s thrall into the kingdom of God or be unmoved at the suffering of the many latter-day martyrs who, having owned the claims of Christ, had to seal their testimony with their lives. No one can tell how many thousands have died martyr deaths in the last hundred years, but the number is very considerable.

Russia

In the last thirty years of the nineteenth century, Russia was visited by gospel blessing. One of the principal instruments God used was Lord Radstock, who worked among the Russian nobility with marked and enduring results. In 1866 Lord Radstock had been preaching in Weston-super-Mare, and after the address he put his hand on the shoulder of one of the listeners, a well-educated German of forty-three, as he was leaving the hall, and said to him, “My man, God has a message through me for you tonight.” In the anteroom, Lord Radstock prayed for him and with him. The result was a decided conversion. “I went in,” said Baedeker, “a proud, German infidel and came out a humble, believing disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ.” His wife’s conversion followed soon after.

Baedeker was a delicate man in constant fear of heart failure. The Lord, who had healed his soul, now strengthened his body to serve him in a most remarkable way. He began at once to spread the glad tidings. In 1874 he went on a visit to Germany, serving first as interpreter for a well-known evangelist and then as an evangelist himself. In 1877, with his wife and daughter, he spent three years in Russia, working mainly among German-speaking people.

Although religious liberty did not exist in Russia in those days (liberty of conscience was granted in 1905), God opened many doors, and this erstwhile invalid spent years preaching all over Russia. For eighteen years he was given freedom of access to every prison in the Czar’s dominions. Of this extraordinary privilege he made the fullest use, visiting hundreds of prisons, preaching to the convicts, talking to them in their cells, and leaving New Testaments with them. It is impossible in this short notice to do justice to a labor covering thirty years, in which he made many visits to that vast land and more than once crossed the great wastes of Siberia from end to end, taking the gospel to rich and poor and visiting every prison in his route.

“From the banks of the Rhine, in the neighborhood of which he was born, to the last desperate penal settlement of Saghalien, beyond the Gulf of Tartary in farthest Asia, and from the princely homes of devout nobles in Stockholm to the rough and bare settlements of Stundist exiles in the Caucasus at the foot of Mount Ararat roved this apostle of two continents. Up and down Europe, away over Siberia, to and fro, by rail and by boat, by droshky or tarantas, along interminable roads and tracks, by sledge across the wide snows of the steppes and along the course of frozen rivers, hither and thither this extraordinary man journeyed, preaching the gospel.”

And the motive? Not for love of adventure nor to explore nor for fame, for he wrote no book of his travels. The motive was the same as impelled the Apostle Paul in his long and arduous journeys in the first century to carry the gospel of God’s love to perishing sinners. For this no risk was too great and no journey too arduous. In a letter written in 1889 he says, “The prisons at Tomsk are simply horrible beyond description or imagination. ... It is a sight to make one’s heart bleed to see little children fondly embracing their father, who is heavily chained, and mothers who have three or four children with them, all looking sickly from exposure and privation. The atmosphere with such a number of people is simply poison. ... But the horror of horrors is the sick house which we visited yesterday. ... There were in the wards all kinds of illness placed together: typhus, smallpox, diarrhea and consumption, besides lighter complaints and chronic evils.”

Some of the most degraded criminals were won for Christ. On the other hand, there were those condemned to a felon’s cell for the Lord’s sake, and to such he would bring a message of solace and comfort.

In 1891 a severe persecution began, and many Russian Christians were imprisoned and cruelly treated. Some belonged to the non-conformists known as Stundists — a particular object of hatred; others were Baptists. Many of these he was able to relieve on the way into exile. God prolonged the life of His devoted servant to eighty-three years. He was active till the last few days, during which he frequently said, “I am going in to see the King in His beauty.”

Apart from the Orthodox Russian Church, which is marked, like its Roman counterpart, with much formalism and idolatry, there was, so to speak, in Russia a hidden seed, the result of earlier sowings. In 1918, this latent life seemed to spring up and bear fruit, for there was a great awakening. The Spirit of God was working in many hearts, and it has been said that in the early years of the Revolution period the conversions ran into millions. Companies of Christians were formed, meeting on simple, New Testament lines. A new hymnbook was prepared for their use. Then came persecution, and many were scattered abroad, sowing the seed as they went. There are indications that in spite of the anti-God measures of the Soviet, the blessing still continues.

India

Christianity was introduced into India in the early years of the Christian era, and a Syrian Christian Church has existed since the early centuries, but it has long since lost its evangelical light. Roman Catholicism was introduced in the Middle Ages. The first Protestant missions were due to Pietist influences in the eighteenth century when Ziegenbalg and Plutschau went from Halle University, under the auspices of the King of Denmark. Carey, the cobbler who became a great linguist, is well-known as the pioneer of later efforts to evangelize India. The East India Company prevented such work for many years, and the godless lives of the early English traders were a great handicap. But the way was opened in due course, and gradually the gospel penetrated. Henry Martyn (1781-1821) translated the New Testament into Hindustani. Ringeltaube began work in 1806 at Travancore, and it is said that eleven thousand were converted by 1835. Rhenius began work in Tinnevelly in 1820, and by 1835 had baptized twelve thousand persons living in 261 villages. Schwartz, a much respected, saintly man, had already labored in the same parts. By 1851, it was reckoned that there were ninety thousand Christians in India.

At the time of the Indian Mutiny in 1857, many Indian Christians were massacred. On the capture of Delhi, every one of the thirty-six missionaries was murdered, and fifteen leading Indian Christians were put to death. The missionaries were soon replaced by others, and the native Christians continued the work in the schools. Ghokel Parshad, a native schoolmaster at Farrukhabad, connected with one of the missions, was offered his life and liberty and that of his family if he would renounce his faith. “What is my life,” he said, “that I should deny my Saviour? I have never done that since the day I first believed on Him, and I never will.”

In 1859 a remarkable conversion took place. Pagolu Venkayya, leader of a band of violent men, forty-seven years of age, heard from a companion of a missionary who had spoken of one God and said that idols could help no one. He was impressed, and from that time forward he began to pray, “O great God, who art Thou? Where art Thou? Show Thyself to me.” A Christian tract came into his hands which spoke of God as the Saviour of the world. He thereupon prayed, “O great God, the Saviour, show Thyself to me.” For three years he prayed thus. Then in 1859 he came in contact with a missionary who preached the gospel to him. He listened and eagerly received the truth. He became himself a preacher to his fellow-countrymen, and it is said that when he died in 1891, believers, who, at the time of his conversion, numbered about two hundred in those parts, had increased to ten thousand.

The following gives an impression of the position about the year 1915.

“India is becoming Christian at a rate unprecedented in the history of the world, but to realize what this means one needs to go out to India and to walk through the districts where the Christian faith is being taught and to note the changes which are taking place. A visitor will not need to ask as he enters any particular village whether its inhabitants are Christians. A glance at their faces or even at the faces of their children will show whether the spirit of fear, engendered by the debased form of Hinduism which is professed in the average Hindu village, has been exorcised and whether Christian hope and freedom have taken its place. He may find many who call themselves Christians but whose lives are unworthy of their profession, but the proportion will not be as large as he will have been prepared to discover if he is acquainted with the history of Europe during the centuries which succeeded its nominal conversion to Christianity, nor will the superficial Christianity of a few greatly lessen the impression which will be produced upon him as he comes to understand the marvelous transformation which is taking place in the experience alike of individuals and communities.”

This was an enthusiastic and, perhaps, over-optimistic impression, for today the vast bulk of India’s millions are still heathen. Now that India has achieved her independence, the trends are still less favorable.

As at all times, we must remember that the wheat and tares are growing together till the final harvest. Missionaries themselves are not all earnest evangelists. Some have civilization rather than conversion before them. Not a few in recent years are modernists. Much of the work may be superficial in character, but when every allowance has been made, the fact remains that in the last 150 years a great number in that vast sub-continent have passed from death unto life and are numbered among those who form the true Church. The translation and printing of the Scriptures in the various languages of India is, in itself, a work which cannot fail to bear fruit.

Quite recently we have heard of a movement among Indian Christians who have left denominational systems and are trying to follow the pattern of New Testament days. This movement seems to be in the hands of native Christians.

For what it is worth, we may add that the estimated number of professing Christians in India at a recent date was ten million, half of whom were Roman Catholics. This is not a large percentage of the immense population of India, but when it is remembered that only ten percent of the population of this country attend a place of worship, the actual number of true believers in heathen India might be as great in the aggregate as in Christian England.

China

We have already observed that the Nestorians took the gospel to China in the sixth century, but the results were not permanent. Roman Catholic missionaries entered the country in later times. But the spread of the gospel in China was the fruit of the great revival in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Robert Morrison (b. 1782) of Morpeth landed in China in 1807 and became an interpreter to the East India Company. He labored at Canton, but his work was largely literary. In 1813 he published the whole New Testament in a colloquial dialect. Before his death in 1834, he had translated almost the whole Bible into Chinese. There was little evidence of results, for in twenty-five years only ten persons were baptized.

In 1842 the treaty ports of Canton, Amoy, Ningpo, Foochow and Shanghai were opened to foreigners. Up to 1850, however, in spite of dozens of missions, only one hundred Chinese Christians were known. Yet the evangelists labored on, in spite of discouragement. The Church Missionary Society began work in Foochow in 1850, but after ten years there were no results and no prospects of any.

It is not possible here to give an account of the many who have labored and suffered in that land in the last 150 years, but some details of one devoted servant will be better than a mere list of many names.

In 1853 James Hudson Taylor went to China, then a comparative youth, twenty-one years of age. It is impossible to read the life of Hudson Taylor without recognizing that he was called by God to serve in China. Before he was born, his pious parents, acting on the scripture, “Sanctify unto Me all the firstborn” (Ex. 13:2), had solemnly dedicated their expected offspring to the Lord. God’s work early appeared in his young soul, but his definite conversion took place in his teens. Contact with the world made him feel his weakness, and he went through the experience described in the seventh chapter of Romans: “O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” (Rom. 7:24). On his knees, he promised God that if He would deliver him, he would renounce all earthly prospects and be utterly at His disposal. God took him at his word. He afterwards wrote:

“Never shall I forget the feeling that came over me then. Words can never describe it. I felt I was in the presence of God, entering into covenant with the Almighty. I felt as though I wished to withdraw my promise, but I could not. Something seemed to say, ‘ Your prayer is answered; your conditions are accepted,’ and from that time the conviction never left me that I was called to China.”

He was seventeen. From that time forward this was the great object of his life.

Thenceforward, his life was marked by devotion to the Lord and much self-denial, and his faith was sorely tested in many ways. In 1854 he landed in Shanghai, after a voyage in which the little ship was twice nearly wrecked. His path was beset by many obstacles. He was the sole representative in China of the China Evangelization Society, and, young and inexperienced as he was, he had to face baffling difficulties and many privations. In all this he learned to lean on God alone and to walk by faith, for the slender allowance granted him by the Society was pitifully inadequate. The terrible Taiping rebellion had just broken out, and he was in constant danger, being often under fire.

Under these trying conditions, he studied the difficult Chinese tongue. Up to this time, the preaching of the gospel had been largely confined to the treaty ports, but Hudson Taylor wished to reach the interior, where the gospel had never been heard. He soon had the opportunity of accompanying one of the young missionaries of the London Missionary Society named Edkins. In a native houseboat, they sailed along the waterways near Shanghai and had wonderful opportunities for preaching the gospel in city after city. They were well received. The appearance of foreigners was a novelty in those days and, in itself, was enough to draw vast crowds together. Beside preaching, they distributed many Chinese New Testaments and tracts. Many such journeys did the young evangelist make, sometimes with another missionary named Burdon, not without unpleasant and even dangerous incidents.

He decided, in order to facilitate his dealings with the people, to adopt Chinese dress, even to the wearing of a pigtail. Now he became one of them, dressing, living and eating like those around. This greatly facilitated his work. His medical knowledge was the means, of course, of opening many a door.

While faithful men were thus devoting their lives to the evangelization of China, the European powers were protecting the hateful opium traffic and forcing the Chinese authorities to keep the door open to its importation. This tended to enhance the opposition to foreigners. In some parts, the missionaries went at the risk of their lives, for there were districts where lawlessness so prevailed that they were liable at any time to be seized and held to ransom.

Among the converts secured from these early labors was a businessman named Nyi. He was a devout Buddhist but with a concern about his sins. He followed a crowd into the hall where Hudson Taylor was preaching on John 3:14-16. The story of the brazen serpent went straight to his heart and conscience. Rising from his seat he said:

“I have long sought the truth, as did my father before me, but without finding it. I have traveled far and near but have never searched it out. In Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism, I have found no rest, but I do find rest in what we have heard tonight. Henceforward I am a believer in Jesus.” This man was head of a Buddhist society, and on leaving them he gave a powerful testimony to those he had previously led.

He said one day to Hudson Taylor, “How long have you had the glad tidings in England?” Several hundred years was the reply.

“Is it possible,” he answered, “that you have known about Jesus so long and only now have come to tell us? My father sought the truth for more than twenty years and died without finding it. Oh, why did you not come sooner?”

Needless to say, such a man became himself a powerful witness. He was one of the firstfruits of a great harvest.

After three years, Hudson Taylor resigned from the Society which had sent him out, because he found he was being supported on borrowed money. He determined, thenceforward, to be dependent on God alone. When, ten years later, he began the China Inland Mission, one of its rules was that its workers received no fixed salaries and were not authorized to solicit funds on its behalf.

In 1860 a serious breakdown in health compelled Hudson Taylor to return to England, and it was not till 1866 that he returned, accompanied, this time, by fifteen others.

Many others, associated with various missionary bodies, joined in the work. In the early part of the twentieth century, there were over five thousand European missionaries in China, and two million copies of portions of the Bible in various Chinese dialects had been distributed by the British and Foreign Bible Society. Chinese converts were also spreading the truth among their own countrymen.

A remarkable instance of the work of the Holy Spirit in China in the latter part of the nineteenth century is the case of Hsi, once a proud Confucian scholar but a helpless slave to the opium habit. He came under the influence of a devoted missionary named Hill. Deeming it wiser in this case to let the Word of God do its own work, Hill placed the Bible in Hsi’s way. Hsi began to read, became deeply interested, came under conviction and was soundly converted. In answer to earnest prayer, he was enabled, after an intense struggle, to get free from the awful slavery of opium. This was almost unheard of in those days and was a powerful testimony to those who knew him. He soon became an effective evangelist among his own people. Seeing all around him the degrading and life-destroying effects of opium, he was led to establish “refuges” to which victims could come and undergo treatment, which was always accompanied by prayer. Many such refuges were established and thousands were freed from the power of the drug and saved in soul as well as body.

Hsi’s own life was a wonderful example and his preaching and influence led to the blessing of many for hundreds of miles around. In 1896, after seventeen years of fruitful labors for Christ, the Lord took him to be with Himself. The account of his life is deeply interesting and very instructive.

In 1900 came a great trial. The Boxer movement was an attempt to expel all foreigners from China and to extirpate Christianity. Chinese Christians were, in many cases, offered their lives if they would recant, but despite cruel tortures, the greater part remained faithful unto death. Many, among the missionaries and their families, had to give up their lives. Yet, after this trial, there was a great and rapid increase in the number of Christians in China. Those who remained were strengthened, added to and encouraged.

As everywhere, the wheat was mixed with tares. Among the missionaries themselves were men with modernist views. Educational and humanitarian work had a more prominent place with some than the gospel. Roman Catholicism had also made much headway. The greater part of nominal Christians in China are Roman Catholics, and they represented the largest proportion of those who were put to death by the Boxers.

In 1937 the Sino-Japanese war broke out. Most of the foreign missionaries had to quit the country. It was a time of trial for Chinese Christians, but they maintained their witness and, when the trial was over, seemed to have been strengthened rather than otherwise. Many met together on lines more consistent with the teaching of the New Testament, and a considerable number of little companies of believers meeting in scriptural simplicity grew up during the 1930s.

Since then, Communism has swept China, and the missionaries have been expelled. Many Chinese Christians have suffered torture and death, and every effort is being made, as in other Communist countries, to inculcate atheistic and materialistic ideas among the masses.

Manchuria

It is said that in Manchuria more than in most places, Christianity has spread by the efforts of believers to influence their friends and neighbors. Many years ago, a Manchurian was converted in one of the many missionary hospitals which had been established. For many years, this man served the Lord as a faithful witness and it is recorded that he was the means of bringing two thousand of his fellow-countrymen to Christ.

Turkestan

A remarkable work took place in this far-off land in the earlier years of the twentieth century. A Moslem named ’Ali Akhond listened to a Swedish missionary read those wonderful words, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, If a man keep My saying, he shall never see death” (John 8:51). Greatly interested, he obtained a gospel and read it. Twice the book was taken from him by zealous co-religionists. Each time he got another. In the end, he was truly converted. He became a gifted evangelist. About two hundred converted Moslems were gathered in the town of Kashgar.

Civil war broke out in the country. The missionaries were expelled. In 1939 a leader got into power who was under the influence of the Soviets and held their anti-God views. The poor Christians suffered bitter persecution, many of them being put to death, some of whom were youths and girls.

Korea

The evangelization of Korea is a remarkable story. In 1855 there was not one known Christian in the land. Between then and the end of the century, Christianity made slow progress. In the first decade of the twentieth century, there was a wave of blessing. The whole land was moved. Prayer and the reading of the Word were widespread. As in New Testament days, the work of God took root among the people. There was no ordained, paid ministry, and the work was not dependent on foreign financial aid. When Korea came under Japanese control, there was severe persecution, and some suffered martyrdom. The Christians of Korea have been marked by self-denial and self-sacrifice. The sorrows that have overtaken this land during the recent war are well-known. The Communist domination of North Korea meant further trials for the much-tried and faithful believers of that country.

Burma

Adoniram Judson began work in Rangoon in 1813. After seven years, there were only ten converts. In 1828 one of the Karens was converted, who became a preacher among his own people. Judson devoted the remainder of his life to translating the Bible into Burmese. He died in 1850. There is a remarkable story of a Buddhist hermit, who, without any Christian contact, came to the belief that Buddhism was false and that there was a true God who could be thought of as Father. Later, he met a missionary, was converted and after some time was baptized in 1911. Thousands were influenced by him, and some were baptized. He continued to live as a hermit.

Mongolia

Attempts have been made to evangelize this barren region. The power of the Llamas is so great that most are hindered in making a confession. James Gilmour labored there for twenty-one years till 1891, without result. Other evangelical persons have since continued to preach the gospel there, in spite of these difficulties.

Tibet

Tibet is another insular land into which it has been difficult to introduce the gospel. A translation of the Bible into that tongue has, after being fifty years in preparation, only recently been completed. It has recently been reported that gospel broadcasts in the Tibetan tongue have aroused much interest in that benighted land.

Japan

Japan was not open to foreigners till 1859, when they were allowed by treaty to live in certain ports. American missionaries took advantage of the open door. The first English missionary was George Ensor. A Japanese professed a feigned interest with the object of murdering him. Ensor told him of the love of Christ and he was converted, and later he suffered imprisonment for his faith. He preached Christ to his fellow-prisoners, and seventy of them began to study the Bible. Many went to Ensor by night like Nicodemus. In spite of opposition and persecution, the Word made progress. The government changed its attitude in 1873, and many of the upper classes were reached. By the end of the nineteenth century, there were many thousands of baptized Christians, and in the following ten years the numbers still further increased. A number of native Christian Churches have grown up in Japan. Christians, however, form a small minority of the population, and only a small percentage of the population has been reached with the gospel. A proud, ambitious race, the impact of Western ideas and learning has had the effect of producing widespread agnosticism. The humiliating defeat of Japan in the last world war and its occupation by America has, of course, opened the door to the gospel and the dissemination of the Bible. It remains to be seen whether extensive and enduring results will accrue.

Formosa

In the early years of the century, there were already many professing Christians in this large island. Since it became the headquarters of the Chinese nationalists and came under American protection, the spread of Christianity has been encouraged.

Taking Asia as a whole, it seems barren soil for the gospel, compared with Europe, but if we think of the state of Europe in the long, dark centuries before the Reformation, we may get a better comparison. It is only a century and a half since the gospel light dawned on those lands steeped in pagan darkness. Millions of souls have, however, been secured in those 150 years, and these are surely as precious to the Saviour as the souls of Europeans.

Africa

It is almost impossible to present, in the space available, an adequate summary of gospel work in Africa. That vast continent is larger than the combined area of Europe, the United States, India and China together. One hundred years ago, its races were sunk in the most appalling darkness and moral degradation. Many, however, have been won and transformed by the gospel. Millions today are professing Christians, of whom many are truly born again. The penetration of the gospel was slow and beset by immense difficulties, and its progress cost many lives. Britain and other powers have suppressed many of the barbarous customs of the native races, but, on the other hand, contact with Europeans has proved a hindrance rather than a help to the spread of the gospel, for the African tends to take on the worst features of European life.

The story of the evangelization of Africa begins with the Moravian, George Schmidt, who in 1737 began to work among the Hottentots in South Africa. But after six years of work, he was forced by the Dutch settlers to leave the country, though not without some fruit. In time, others took up the work. In 1817 Robert Moffat began his service of fifty-three years in that land. He worked in Bechuanaland. His wife was his devoted helper. For eight years they toiled and prayed, and at last a little company of African Christians was gathered out. He translated the Scriptures, beginning with the Gospels, until finally they had the whole Bible in their native tongue.

Livingstone followed Moffat. He became more of an explorer than an evangelist, but his life made a fragrant and lasting impression on the Africans he came into contact with. His belief was that if the African continent were opened up to commerce and civilization, Christianity would follow.

In 1844 J. L. Krapf went to Mombasa. He lost his wife and child there, but he was undeterred. He was quite prepared to sacrifice his life in the cause of the gospel. He lived to see the work established in Uganda.

In 1876 T. J. Comber, only twenty-four years of age, went to the Congo. He labored hard for ten years, but before he was taken, he saw the firstfruits of the harvest gathered in. In 1886 over a thousand pagans were converted.

In the latter part of the nineteenth century, a son of one of the chiefs in the Congo did all he could to oppose the gospel. Then, suddenly, he was soundly converted and became an earnest preacher of the gospel he had opposed. Going to a town which was a stronghold of paganism, he began the attack. For months there were no results. Then one man was saved. Others were added. A company of three hundred was gathered, and from among these some went to preach in other towns. They called this man Paul, and when he went to be with Christ in 1902, there were hundreds as the fruit of his personal evangelism, and their testimony was spreading.

There is also the remarkable case of King Khama of Bechuanaland, a converted chieftain, under whose influence and wise rule a whole savage tribe became a peace-loving, agricultural people, many of whom were truly converted. The transformation in the territory he ruled over is said to have been wonderful.

Uganda

The story of the introduction of the gospel into Uganda is very interesting. In 1875 the explorer Stanley tried to influence the native king and wrote a letter to the Daily Telegraph, urging that missionaries be sent out, as there was a great harvest in sight. The bearer of the letter was murdered, but his leg bones were found with his high boots, and in one Stanley’s letter was found. It was duly published. The Church Missionary Society sent out a party of eight. Within two years, two had been murdered, two had died of disease, and two had been invalided home. Of the remaining two, Alexander Mackay seems to have been the more active. By 1884 there were thirty-eight converts. In the following year, a new king came to the throne. He determined to exterminate the Christians. Six were martyred. Their arms were cut off and they were burned over a slow fire. They died, it is said, singing, “Daily, daily, sing the praises.”

Shortly after the above events, James Hannington, on his way to take up the post of Bishop of Uganda, was murdered. The King seized forty-six more and ordered them to be burned. While the persecution was in progress, Mackay wrote to the sufferers the following words of encouragement:

“We, your friends and teachers, write to you to send you words of cheer and comfort, which we have taken from the Epistle of Peter the Apostle of Christ. Our beloved brothers, do not deny our Lord Jesus, and He will not deny you in that day when He shall come in glory. Remember the words of our Saviour, how He told His disciples not to fear men who are able only to kill the body. ... Do not cease to pray exceedingly, to pray for our brethren who are in affliction and for those who do not know God. May God give you His Spirit and His blessings. May He deliver you out of all your afflictions. May He give you entrance to eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

In 1894 Uganda became a British Protectorate. By 1910 the number who professed Christianity had grown to seventy thousand.

Madagascar

One of the most terrible persecutions of recent times was that which befell the converted natives of Madagascar. The gospel was taken there in 1820. The reigning king was favorable, but after eight years he died and was succeeded by a queen who was hostile. In 1835 she ordered her soldiers to seize every Christian they could find and bury them alive. In 1849 eighteen were sentenced to death and two thousand were condemned to be flogged or sold into slavery. The persecution continued for twenty-six years. In 1835, when the persecutions began, there were less than two thousand Christians, yet during the twenty-six years of persecution over ten thousand persons were punished as Christians and two hundred were put to death. When it was over, Christians were four times as numerous as when the persecution began. Many exiled ones returned and some reappeared from the depths of the forests in which they had hidden themselves; many bore the marks of their ill-treatment and privations. It was a time of joyful reunion.

During those years, they had not the support of European teachers, but large numbers had learned to read the New Testament, and doubtless their faith had been kept alive and nourished by the Word of God. In later years, crowds of professors were added whose faith proved vain. When the French took over the island in 1883, most of these fell away.

East Africa

In the early 1930s, there was a remarkable revival which began with a few Africans who read their Bibles, determined to obey its teaching. This movement spread to many parts of Central and East Africa. It is these “revival Christians” who stood firm when the Mau Mau rising faced with death all those who refused to take the Mau Mau oath.

The West Indies

Christianity in some form had been introduced into the West Indies as early as the days of Columbus.

Jamaica came under British rule in Cromwell’s time. Christian men accompanied the army. There is a record of a little company of Christians in those days meeting in simplicity, presided over by a man named Spere. At the end of the seventeenth century, many Huguenots fled to the island. Towards the middle of the eighteenth century, several Moravian missionaries went to Jamaica and labored among the Negroes. Later came Methodist and Baptist missionaries. In the early nineteenth century, William Knibb labored abundantly and fruitfully, and on his visits to England he did much to stir up the public conscience against slavery, which was abolished in British Dominions in 1838. Beside the various Protestant denominations, companies of Brethren were formed in fellowship with those in Britain and elsewhere. In 1861 there was a remarkable gospel revival similar to those which occurred about the same period in America and the British Isles.

Space forbids us to extend the account of the progress of Christianity in the West Indies. Barbados, however, was also evangelized and a very high proportion of the inhabitants are Christians.

South America

In Latin America, where the non-native population is mainly of Spanish and Portuguese origin, Roman Catholicism is dominant, having been introduced in the sixteenth century. Evangelical light in South America is largely the fruit of the circulation of the Bible by colporteurs. In scores of places where copies of the Scriptures were left, not only were individuals converted, but friends and neighbors came together to read the Word, and from these simple Bible readings Christian companies sprang up spontaneously. We give one illustration of this.

“In what is called the Coffee Mountain area of Brazil, there is today a well-organized and active church. It traces its origin to a few Bibles sold by an illiterate Negro who passed that way some thirty years ago. He could not read, but his heart had been set on fire by the message of the Bible, and he devoted himself to bearing his witness and selling the book to any who would buy. His testimony was so moving that several of the farmers bought copies, and as time went by they began to talk to one another about what they read. This led to their meeting occasionally to read the Bible together and to discuss it, which in turn led to the holding of Sunday services. All this took place without any contact with any outside person or group.”

This company of 150 persons some years later became linked with one of the Protestant Churches.

New Zealand

Although discovered in the seventeenth century, New Zealand had not been settled by the British at the beginning of the nineteenth century. It was inhabited by the Maoris, then fierce cannibals, always at war among themselves. Some of the first Europeans to set foot on those shores were killed and eaten. Yet before any white men settled there, many of these bloodthirsty savages were reached by the gospel and had washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb.

Samuel Marsden was the first to take the glad tidings to them. Of pious Wesleyan parentage, he was converted through the zealous Charles Simeon, who influenced many Cambridge students in those days. When the penal settlement was established at Port Jackson (Sydney) in Australia, Marsden was sent, at the instigation of Wilberforce, as a chaplain to the convicts, and through his services some of these were converted. While there, he became interested in the Maoris. A providential incident opened the door into their country. A native chief, beguiled into leaving his native land and becoming a friendless, penniless outcast, Marsden took him under his protection and restored him to his people. The way was now open to the gospel. Many received it gladly. For a number of years, he spread the gospel among these benighted people, and there was great blessing. In 1835, when he was over seventy years of age, Marsden paid his last visit to the land of the Maoris. Many of the old chiefs received him with joy, and thousands gathered from all parts to hear him preach. A wonderful transformation had been effected in many.

Marsden had learned by experience that the gospel, and the gospel alone, could change men’s hearts. Others who followed him were not so clear on this, and a widespread work of “Christianization” went on. It seemed that the Maori nation was converted to Christianity. But the work was tested. War broke out in 1860 between the natives and the settlers. It lasted ten years. Many Maoris, who had professed Christianity, relapsed to paganism and their old cannibal rites. A false prophet rose up among them who proclaimed a religious war, called the Hau-Hau rebellion, from the bark-like war cry of the rebels. Missions and churches were attacked, and some of the Lord’s servants died martyr deaths. Among them was a devoted German missionary named Carl Volkner, whom they hanged. His dying words were, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). The apostasy of the Maoris was as rapid and extensive as their conversion. This episode is an awful example of the futility of a merely external conversion. But the wheat remained, for the real work of God must abide. The remnants of the Maori race were subdued and lived peacefully under British rule.

South Sea Islands

When the account of Captain Cook’s voyages in the South Seas reached England at the end of the eighteenth century, it aroused a great desire among Christians that the gospel should be taken to the savage tribes that inhabited those numerous islands. One who was greatly moved in this way was Lady Huntingdon, and among her last prayers were those for the evangelization of the natives of those parts. Money was collected and an expedition went out, landing in 1797 in Tahiti. The chief, Pomare, was favorably disposed from the first and gospel work began.

In 1817, John Williams, a young man of twenty-one, converted only three years before, went out to the Society Islands, where he earnestly preached the gospel, and many were truly converted among the savages. When he visited the island of Raratonga, he found that a rumor of the gospel had already preceded him. A native woman returning from Tahiti had brought news of the “God of heaven and His Son Jesus Christ.” The chief of the island was impressed and built an altar to the “Unknown God.” When Williams and his companions arrived, he found the inhabitants ready to hear the glad tidings, of which the rumor had already reached them.

Though ignorant of shipbuilding, Williams managed to construct, with the help of the natives, a boat of eighty tons, and in this he visited other islands, including Tonga.

After spending some time in Britain, Williams, with his wife, eldest son and sixteen other missionaries, set out again for the South Seas. This time he visited the New Hebrides. In 1839 he reached Erromanga, which was inhabited by particularly ferocious natives, and, shortly after his arrival, he and his companions were cruelly done to death and their bodies were eaten. It appeared afterwards to be an act of revenge for the cruel treatment they had received at the hands of certain foreigners who, entering the island for sandalwood, had plundered and killed a number of the natives.

One of the fruits of the evangelical revival in the late fifties of the nineteenth century was the conversion of James Chalmers. Two years after his conversion, he met Dr. Turner, who had spent forty years in the South Sea Islands, and was stirred by the account he gave of the Lord’s work in those lands. He thereupon offered himself to the Lord to work among the cannibals of the South Seas. In 1866 he and his wife sailed for those parts. They were wrecked on Savage Island, and, with all their possessions gone, they were picked up by a pirate and landed in Raratonga. Cannibalism had already disappeared from the island as a result of earlier evangelization, but things had retrograded badly. Many who were mere professors had come under the influence of drink. With Chalmers’ labors, a work of revival began, and much blessing resulted. He left the island after ten years’ devoted service and went to New Guinea. Here he found himself among cannibals, and he was even invited to a cannibal feast. The gospel made progress there. A few were truly converted, but many were changed only outwardly, for the gospel has an enlightening effect on the human mind and conscience, even where the heart has not yielded to the claims of the Lord.

When the first preachers arrived at Port Moresby, the chief, until then a ferocious savage, listened to the Word and was truly converted. He died in faith at an advanced age in 1886. His son opposed the work for years, but he, too, was at last converted, and instead of the savage ruler who inspired terror among his people, he became a calm and peaceful Christian. Such is the subduing power of divine grace.

For thirty-five years, Chalmers worked among the South Sea Islanders. Six times he had been shipwrecked, and many times he had faced death at the hands of the savages. In 1901 he made his last voyage with his helper Tomkins. He was seeking to reach tribes who had never been preached to before. They landed on an unknown island in the Papuan Gulf and were never seen again alive.

It was learned afterwards that they had been killed and eaten by the cannibals. Thus Chalmers sealed with his blood the years of devoted service in the evangelization of the South Sea Islanders.

Tierra Del Fuego

The effect of the gospel on the degraded inhabitants of this dark land has a peculiar interest. When Darwin made his famous voyage in the Beagle in 1831, he became acquainted with the natives of Tierra del Fuego and expressed the opinion that they were probably the lowest specimens of the human race and that any attempt to take the gospel to them was futile. Many years afterwards, when he had seen the effects of the gospel upon them, he wrote, “The success of the Tierra del Fuego mission is most wonderful and shames me, as I always prophesied utter failure.”

The pioneer in this work was Captain Allen Gardiner, who had previously visited Patagonia. He made his first visit to Fuego in 1848. Conditions were such that they could not establish themselves ashore and had to work from the ship as a base. After returning to England, he made another voyage at the end of 1850. This time he was accompanied by Richard Williams (a converted skeptic), John Maidment, a carpenter named Erwin and three Cornish fishermen. The attempt ended in disaster. Having reached Picton Island, they disembarked, but the threatening attitude of the natives compelled them to seek the refuge of their launches. One of these was wrecked on the rocky coast, and they were once again ashore. A vessel sent with provisions was wrecked. The little party perished from exposure and starvation, and their remains were found on the rocky shore. Gardiner’s last entry in his diary read, “Great and marvelous are the loving-kindnesses of my gracious God unto me. He has preserved me hitherto, although without bodily food, yet without any feeling of hunger or thirst.” He had earlier written farewell letters, full of faith and resignation, to his wife and daughter and commended his loved ones to the care of God.

Within a year, a ship named the Allen Gardiner sailed from Bristol with a band of earnest workers on board to make another attempt to carry the Word of God to the heathen of Tierra del Fuego.

It was some years before any success was achieved with the Fuegans. A party which landed in 1860 was murdered. Finally, in 1868, a station was established, and four years later a small party of natives was baptized. From then on the work proceeded, and it was proved that there are no races so degraded or benighted as to be beyond the reach of the gospel.

New Hebrides

In 1858 J. G. Paton started work in the New Hebrides at Tanna, and afterwards he moved to Aniwa, which was completely evangelized in his lifetime. In 1906 he claimed twenty thousand converts. He said that they never baptized a person until they had given real evidence of consecration to the Lord Jesus.

This account of the spread of the gospel all over the world since the beginning of the nineteenth century is brief and incomplete, but it will show that God has been working in every land at the close as at the beginning of the Christian dispensation. One feature is unprecedented: The Bible has been translated and circulated in all the major languages of the world and parts of it in hundreds of other languages.

Vast changes are now taking place in the world. Muhammadanism is spreading among the heathen, while Communism has engulfed great sections of the human race. The great period of missionary activity seems to be closing, but the gospel will continue to be sounded abroad until the Saviour’s voice is heard calling the redeemed to Himself.

Chapter 59

The wonderful revival of truth which characterized the first half of the nineteenth century provoked vigorous counterattacks on the part of Satan. These took various forms: Some were direct frontal attacks, such as higher criticism and evolution, while others, much more subtle, like the Oxford Movement, were aimed at weakening the effect of the truth then being recovered as to the Church.

Higher Criticism

Higher criticism took its rise in Germany, where, in the eighteenth century, rationalism was rampant. Eichorn, who has been called the “father of higher criticism,” tried to reconcile the Scriptures to rationalistic ideas by explaining away the miracles, which he treated either as the fruits of imagination or deliberate impostures. Others followed who explained them as the hallucinations of the writers. De Wette, born in 1780, attributed the whole of the Old Testament to mythological origins. These ideas were developed by later critics who, with only their own theories to guide them, divided up the sacred writings and allotted them to mythical authors or editors of their own imagining, designated by letters of the alphabet. Recent researches and archaeological discoveries have made many of these theories look foolish and confirmed the authenticity of the Holy Scriptures in a remarkable way.

Evolution

In 1859 Darwin published his work entitled The Origin of Species. The idea of evolution on which it was based is as old as the Greeks, but Darwin supported the theory with a mass of argument which made it seem plausible. In spite of its hypothetical nature, it captured the scientific world and popular imagination. For the Biblical account of the creation of man and the fall, it substituted a long process of development over an immense period of time. The idea of a fall was denied; instead, a gradual ascent from amoeba to man was supposed. The Creator was denied or pushed back into the infinite past and admitted, if at all, as the Originator of a process which was afterwards left to work itself out. Though Darwin referred in The Origin of Species to evolution as a “view of creation,” it is a view which denies revelation. He himself became an avowed agnostic. Probably no single factor has wrought such damage to the gospel cause or closed so many minds against the truth of Scripture. But the progress of scientific discovery has, since Darwin’s day, discredited many of the ideas once so confidently asserted. Evolutionists have even been compelled to admit that they hold it as “an act of faith.” At one time a reconstructed skull was exhibited in the British Museum as one of the missing links. It has since been removed, having been found to be a hoax.

Modern scientific methods of determining the age of pieces of bone have shown even the genuine relics to be much less ancient than was supposed, and scientists are now busy trying to show that, after all, evolution was a much quicker process than was thought in Darwin’s day. But the lie has been broadcast and has produced a harvest of evil. The idea that only the strong should survive and the weak should perish was the teaching that gave rise to Nazism, and to it can be traced the horrors of the two world wars.

The leaven of these teachings has permeated Christendom. Modernism has infected the pulpit. Few, if any, of the sects are free from it. C. H. Spurgeon saw it working in his day and called it the “downgrade movement.” Since his time, it has spread alarmingly and lowered the spiritual temperature in Christendom. The truth is still held by individuals, who are spoken of contemptuously as Fundamentalists, but the apostles themselves were Fundamentalists. Divine power has never accompanied the preaching of any other gospel than the Fundamentalist gospel that Peter and Paul and Luther and Wesley preached. No other gospel ever saved a human soul. Those who preach another lie under a curse (Gal. 1:89).

The Oxford Movement

It is significant that the Oxford Movement began just when the light of the Church as the Body of Christ was being recovered and many were leaving the Churches to gather only to the Lord’s name.

In 1833, John Keble, Henry Newman and Dr. Pusey issued a series of tracts — hence the name Tractarians — the object of which, to put it briefly, was to de-Protestantize the Church of England, to wipe out the effects of the Reformation, and to restore the Anglican Church to what it was before Elizabeth’s time. The principal architect of the system, Henry Newman, disappointed with the opposition it evoked, went into the Romish Church and became a Cardinal. The center of the system was the Mass. A recent advocate of these teachings has written:

“The Eucharist or Mass is the great central act around which all the Christian family was once united. It is the symbol which sooner or later, if ever the wounds of Christendom are to be healed, will one day draw them together again.”

Revival of the Romish Church

These words are particularly significant in view of the revival of the Church of Rome. Its adherents total over 472 million throughout the world, and the numbers are still increasing. Its missionaries are active all over the earth, while the Pope today wields a greater influence than ever before.

Communism

This is another great anti-Christian movement which had its origin in the nineteenth century. In 1848 Marx and Engels published the first manifesto of the Communist Party. Primarily a political and economic movement, its devotees are marked by a kind of religious fanaticism. It is not only anti-Christian, but anti-God. It seems to be sweeping the Eastern world like a tidal wave, and its advance is fraught with incalculable consequences.

Christian Science

This is another nineteenth century delusion. It shows the gullibility of the human mind that so many apparently intelligent people are deceived by this medley of ideas which are neither Christian nor scientific. It was promulgated by a woman, Mary Baker Eddy, who was born in 1821. Among other nonsense, it teaches that God never created matter, sin is an illusion, and disease exists only in the mind. Persons who are too clever to believe the gospel are duped by these Satanic teachings which are, in fact, only the ancient mysticism of the East in a modern dress.

Seventh-Day Adventism

This strange sect took its origin from the prophecy of W. Miller, already referred to, that the coming of Christ would take place in 1843. Although Miller abandoned his false notions, they were taken up by a weak-minded woman named White, who claimed to be a prophetess. This doctrine denies the holy manhood of Christ, perverts the truth as to the atonement, makes salvation dependent on keeping the law, rejects the Lord’s Day and makes the keeping of the Sabbath essential to salvation.

Jehovah’s Witnesses

This movement, which has gone under various names, such as the International Bible Students’ Association and Watchtower Bible and Tract Society, was first known as Millennial Dawn. It was founded by C. T. Russell, who died in 1916 and was succeeded by J. F. Rutherford. Suffice it to say that the awful parody of the truth taught by these people denies the Trinity, the deity of Christ, the personality of the Holy Spirit, the atonement, the resurrection, hell and the immortality of the soul. That such anti-scriptural notions can be spread abroad in the way they are being spread and received by thousands only proves the awful power of the Old Serpent to deceive man.

Christadelphianism

This teaching originated in the United States in 1838. Like the foregoing, it denies the deity of Christ, the personality of the Holy Spirit, the devil, the atonement, the immortality of the soul, and heaven and hell. Need we say any more about it?

In all these movements, the subtlety and power of Satan are evident, but the believer has the assurance of the Word that “greater is He that is in you, than he that is in the world” (1 John 4:4). “To the law and to the testimony: if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them” (Isa. 8:20).

Chapter 60

We have now traced briefly and incompletely the long history of the Christian testimony from Pentecostal days down to our own time. As indicated previously, we have a prophetic review of this history in the Lord’s words to the seven churches in Revelation 23.

We see in Ephesus the Church of apostolic days, which left its first love, and we have noted how quickly decline and departure came in; in Smyrna, the martyr period of the second and third centuries; in Pergamos, the Church allied with the world and tainted with false doctrine; in Thyatira, the growth of the papal system and the bright recovery of the truth at the Reformation; in Sardis, the dead post-Reformation period; and in Philadelphia, the glorious revival, first of the gospel and then the wonderful recovery of the highest truths of Christianity connected with Christ as Head of the Church, His body. Then, after this wonderful revival, which culminated in the nineteenth century, we see foretold in Laodicea the last phase — lukewarmness and indifference to Christ — a solemn picture of present-day conditions. It must be obvious to any intelligent observer that Christ has a very small place in organized Christendom. His words to Laodicea are surely a word for us today:

“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me” (Rev. 3:20).

We have reached the closing phase of the Church’s history, and what is the outlook for the believer? It is the coming of the Lord. The Christian hope does not lie in the evangelization of the world; the Christian hope is the coming again of the Lord Jesus Christ. In Matthew 25:1-13 we read of ten virgins who went forth to meet the bridegroom but who, while the bridegroom tarried, fell asleep and were awakened at midnight by the cry, “Behold, the bridegroom; go forth to meet him” (Matt. 25:6 JND).

Five of them had torches and oil in their vessels, and the others had torches but no oil. Those with the oil were ready, with blazing torches, to welcome the bridegroom, and they went in with him to the wedding feast and the door was shut. The others had no oil. They were not ready. They were taken unawares and were shut out. These two classes exist in Christendom today. There are those who are ready, with their torches trimmed and with oil to supply the light; there are others with the dry torches of mere profession.

When the Bridegroom comes, the Christian testimony will close. The last chapter is now being written. The Lord is coming for His own.

“I will come again, and receive you unto Myself” (John 14:3).

“The Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord” (1 Thess. 4:16-17).

“The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come” (Rev. 22:17).

“He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly: Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus” (Rev. 22:20).

The true Church, composed of all those who have believed on the Lord Jesus Christ and have received the Holy Spirit, will soon be translated to heaven; the day of reward will follow. Each one will appear before the judgment seat of Christ. Everything done and suffered for Christ’s sake will receive its reward — even “a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple” (Matt. 10:42). The sufferings borne during the long years of the Christian testimony will find their answer in “a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory” (2 Cor. 4:17). The Church, entirely and eternally one, will come forth with Christ at His public appearing to reign with Him throughout the day of glory. The period of testimony and suffering will be over. The time of glory and rejoicing will have come.

Chapter 61

The establishment of the kingdom of God is the great central theme of unfulfilled prophecy. This is not to come about, as some have taught, by a gradual process of improvement in the world or by world evangelization. The preaching of the gospel of the kingdom will play its part, but this is different from the preaching that goes on today. “These glad tidings of the kingdom” (Matt. 24:14 JND) are a resumption of the testimony broken off when the Lord was rejected. It will prepare men’s hearts for earthly blessing during the reign of Christ. The gospel today brings men into the Church and heavenly blessing with Christ.

Many prophecies in the Old and New Testaments assert the great truth that Christ is coming to reign, and in Matthew 24 we have the Lord’s own account of this. The Old Testament prophecies are full of it, but it is also clearly stated in various passages that He will not come alone, nor will He reign alone: He has companions. Who are they? Those who receive Him during this long period of His rejection and absence, for “if we suffer, we shall also reign with Him” (2 Tim. 2:12; see also Rom. 8:17). The Lord told His disciples, “When the Son of Man shall sit down upon His throne of glory, ye also shall sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel” (Matt. 19:28 JND). This, of course, would be their special and distinctive place.

The Scripture also tells us that “when the Christ is manifested who is our life, then shall ye also be manifested with Him in glory” (Col. 3:4 JND). This brings us to the glorious subject of Christ’s appearing. He is to be publicly manifested in glory before the eyes of men, for it says, “Behold, He comes with the clouds, and every eye shall see Him, and they which have pierced Him [the Jews]” (Rev. 1:7 JND). The angels on the Mount of Olives said to the wondering disciples, as they gazed heavenward at His ascension, “This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven, shall thus come in the manner in which ye have beheld Him going into heaven” (Acts 1:11 JND). Could anything be clearer? It is stated in language quite unmistakable that the Lord Jesus is to come in the same way as the disciples saw Him go, so that the appearing is the actual, visible, public coming of the Lord Jesus, which will be seen by all.

But it has been shown that those who have shared His rejection—all who have believed on Him during this period from Pentecost to the rapture — are to appear with Him. How does that come about? By their being taken up to heaven before He comes. This is stated with great clarity in the Epistle to the Thessalonians. The Thessalonian Christians, who were eagerly awaiting the Lord’s return, mourned because some of their number had died, feeling that they would miss this blessed moment. The Apostle’s answer to this is so important and so unmistakable that we reproduce it:

“We do not wish you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them that are fallen asleep, to the end that ye be not grieved even as also the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus has died and has risen again, so also God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep through Jesus” (1 Thess. 4:13-14 JND).

God will bring the believers who have died with Jesus when He comes. Then the Apostle shows how this comes about:

“For this we say to you in the word of the Lord, that we, the living who remain to the coming of the Lord, are in no way to anticipate those who have fallen asleep; for the Lord Himself, with an assembling shout, with archangel’s voice and with trump of God, shall descend from heaven; and the dead in Christ shall rise first; then we, the living who remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air” (1 Thess. 4:15-17 JND).

This is not the appearing of Christ. The object of this revelation was to show how the believers go to be with Christ before He appears, so that when He appears, they appear with Him.

This blessed event, which will be unseen by the world, is often called the “rapture” (the catching away), and it applies to all Christians. None of the Lord’s people will be left behind, as some falsely teach. The “dead in Christ” includes all the believing dead; the “we, the living who remain” includes all true believers alive at that moment. This is the resurrection of life spoken of by the Lord (John 5:29). This is the resurrection so vividly portrayed by Paul in 1 Corinthians 15. He says there, “We shall not all fall asleep, but we shall all be changed, in an instant, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet” (1 Cor. 15:51-52 JND). All does not mean some. All living believers will be changed and transported to heaven at the rapture, together with the raised dead, to appear later with Christ at His appearing. Thus we have clearly distinguished these two parts of the Lord’s coming, the rapture and the appearing: the first, secret; the second, public. The first is for His people; the second will be with His people.

The rapture is the next great event on the divine calendar. Nothing has to be fulfilled before it takes place. There is no sign preceding it. There are signs which precede the appearing. If, therefore, we can perceive, as we can even now, signs that we are approaching the end of the age, how much nearer must be the moment of which the Lord spoke, “I am coming again and shall receive you to Myself” (John 14:3 JND).

After the Rapture of the Church

When the Church has been translated to heaven, this world will be plunged into awful darkness, for the light of Christianity will have gone and the Holy Spirit, now present with God’s people and operating in and through them, will also have gone. We read:

“The mystery of lawlessness already works; only there is He who restrains now until He be gone, and then the lawless one shall be revealed” (2 Thess. 2:7-8 JND).

A mystery in Scripture conveys the idea of what is hidden or secret and only known to those who are initiated. The secret working of lawlessness, behind which is the power of Satan, is operating in Christendom today and has been since the apostles’ time, but the presence of the Holy Spirit has exerted a divine check, and its ultimate manifestation in the lawless one (a man under Satanic power and influence, who will aspire to take God’s place) is thus delayed. On the departure of the Holy Spirit with the Lord’s people at the rapture, this check on evil will be removed, and Satan’s power over men will be greatly increased.

God’s judgment will take the form of giving the world, which has rejected Christianity, over to the powers of darkness which men have themselves chosen instead of the truth. In the passage already cited, we learn that the coming of the lawless one is:

“According to the working of Satan in all power and signs and wonders of falsehood, and in all deceit of unrighteousness to them that perish, because they have not received the love of the truth that they might be saved. And for this reason God sends to them a working of error, that they should believe what is false, that all might be judged who have not believed the truth, but have found pleasure in unrighteousness” (2 Thess. 2:9-12 JND).

Those who refuse the gospel in this present time will, in the government of God, be left to believe the lie.

God, however, will work in the hearts of a remnant of the Jews, so that they will be led to recognize that the Christ they crucified is their long-promised Messiah. Those thus recovered will become missionaries of the truth, but the gospel they will proclaim will not offer, as now, heavenly blessings with Christ, but blessing on the earth. While this is going on, Satan will be busy working in the minds of men, and his operations will be particularly effective in that part of the world now characterized as Christendom. The dissatisfied human heart, now manifesting itself in the rising up of the masses, and the tendency to refuse authority and submit to no rule but their own — all this will provide suitable material on which the enemy can work. These tendencies can be seen at work already; in that day they will ripen quickly.

The Breaking of the Seals

In Revelation 5, we read of a book (that is, a roll) written on both sides and sealed with seven seals. This book relates to God’s purposes of blessing regarding this earth. No one is found worthy to open it, and because of this John weeps. It is not in itself a book of judgment, although its opening involves judgment, for if God is to establish the blessed reign of Christ — and His will is to be done on earth as it is in heaven — every opposing element must be removed. So while the book is one of blessing, the effect of its opening is judgment.

Until all the seals have been broken, the book cannot be unrolled, and the Word of God therein become effective. This is not done all at once. Under the figures of the Lion and the Lamb, Christ is depicted as the only One worthy to open the book. His coming forward in this character gives rise to the wonderful redemption song; then the angels surrounding the throne strike a note of praise which widens out into the vast universe until the whole reverberates with His praise (Rev. 5:6-14).

As the Lamb proceeds to open the seals, events follow rapidly on the earth. A seal implies that that which is sealed remains unopened until the authorized person acts. God has thus placed a seal upon matters in this world until this moment arrives. It reminds us of what has already been quoted, that He who now hinders the working of evil will continue to do so until He is taken away. God has placed a restraint upon the world and upon Satan until the appointed moment arrives. In the breaking of the seals, we see that restraint removed step by step.

The first four seals result in events on earth which are similar to what has often happened before in the world’s history. First, a great conqueror appears, then peace is taken from the earth, then famine appears, and then there is widespread death. Following this, on the breaking of the fifth seal, the souls of those slain for the Word of God cry out for vengeance. These are not the souls of Christian martyrs, for they have already been raised and taken to be with Christ in glory. This cry is for vengeance, which is not a Christian characteristic, but it is fitting at this time of judgment. These are the souls of persons who have given their lives as martyrs for the truth during the interval that has already elapsed up to the opening of the fifth seal. When the sixth seal is opened, the whole fabric of society is completely wrecked. What men have been fearfully expecting will have come to pass — a world in chaos. (See Revelation 6:12-17.)

The effect upon men’s evil consciences is seen in what they say about the wrath of the Lamb. The Lamb is a name of Christ, and the fact that men speak of Him thus shows that they have a knowledge of Christianity — they are not heathen who have never heard of the Lamb. It is, therefore, what happens in the western world — in Christendom, which has had the light of Christianity. Actually, that is not yet the end; the day of His wrath is yet a little way ahead, but God is bringing home to Christendom its wickedness. The worst is yet to come.

An upheaval of society such as depicted here, worse than anything that has ever been known in the world’s history, will pave the way for great changes in the world. The character of these changes is clearly given in passages in Daniel and Revelation.

The seventh seal, the opening of which is recorded in chapter 8, is preceded by a vision of two great companies of saved persons: the first consists of 144,000, sealed out of every tribe in Israel, and the second is an unnumbered host of Gentiles. We are, however, shown in advance these two companies which God will secure out of the world during the judgment then about to fall. We are specifically told that this innumerable host of Gentiles are those who have come out of the great tribulation. This great tribulation is part of the judgment which is introduced by the seventh seal. The seals are thus preparatory and providential judgments, closing with the seventh seal which introduces the trumpets.

The trumpets announce definite and direct judgments and take effect upon the new order of society which emerges after the revolution which follows the opening of the sixth seal.

To recapitulate, after the rapture of believers, certain providential judgments will fall upon the earth, culminating in the complete breakup of human society as we know it. Then a new order of society makes its appearance, which is a revival of the old Roman Empire in a new and final form.

Israel’s Recovery

Prophecy largely centers around the past, present and future of the nation of Israel. It has often been said that if proof were needed of the inspiration of the Bible, it could be given in a word — the Jews. No other race has been so oppressed, so persecuted and so universally dispersed, and yet they remain, to this day, a race apart. Through all the vicissitudes of the centuries, the Jews have, in God’s providence, preserved their identity in a most remarkable way. Now, in spite of every kind of opposition, they are returning to their ancient homeland. They are once again an independent nation — a situation which has not obtained since Nebuchadnezzar took them captive to Babylon twenty-five hundred years ago, for after that they were always under a Gentile yoke.

Their return to the land was necessary if the Scripture was to be fulfilled, and now this remarkable fulfillment of prophecy is in part taking place before our eyes. It is, moreover, evident from Scripture that at the beginning this return would be in unbelief, the temple being rebuilt and the ancient ritual restored, for Daniel speaks of the continual sacrifice being taken away (Dan. 12:11). This is at the time when they have acknowledged Antichrist. Other scriptures, however, speak of a fuller recovery which will not take place until after the Church has been taken to heaven. For example, we read,

“And I will take you from among the nations, and gather you out of all the countries, and will bring you into your own land. And I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean: from all your uncleannesses and from all your idols will I cleanse you” (Ezek. 36:24-25 JND).

Moreover, in chapter 37 of Ezekiel the vision of dry bones shows how Israel will be revived as a nation. The same chapter shows that Judah and the other tribes will be united to form again one nation as of old. Ezekiel’s prophecy presents Israel’s recovery from the point of view of God’s sovereign work and does not deal with the unbelieving mass.

There are many other prophecies relating to this wonderful national recovery under divine mercy. Among them is the striking and touching word in Hosea:

“Come and let us return unto Jehovah: for He hath torn, and He will heal us; He hath smitten, and He will bind us up. After two days will He revive us; on the third day He will raise us up, and we shall live before His face” (Hos. 6:12 JND).

Chapter 11 of Romans also deals with this great event.

It is clear, however, that there is, at first, a return in unbelief. This is what is already in measure taking place. Many of the Jews will remain in unbelief and receive Antichrist. The Lord said,

“I am come in My Father’s name, and ye receive Me not; if another come in his own name, him ye will receive” (John 5:43 JND).

When God begins to work, the eyes of many will be opened, and they will realize that the Jesus they crucified is truly their Messiah and that He is about to come again. The truth of Isaiah 53:45 will dawn upon them. What an awakening it will be! With what fervor they will take up again the gospel of the kingdom referred to in Matthew 24:

“These glad tidings of the kingdom shall be preached in the whole habitable earth for a witness to all the nations, and then shall come the end” (ch. 24:14 JND).

This is not the gospel of the grace of God which is preached today, offering forgiveness of sins and a place in the Church, with all the heavenly blessings connected with it. It is the heralding of Christ’s millennial kingdom on earth. The “end” referred to is the end of the age, the time of the Lord’s appearing.

Failure to distinguish between the scriptures which apply to the people of Israel and their earthly blessing when Christ comes and those which apply to the Church and her heavenly blessing has caused much confusion in the understanding of prophecy. It is, indeed, the basis of much heretical teaching.

These Jews who thus receive the light of Christ (often referred to as the “godly remnant”) will pass through much suffering, being opposed by their unbelieving brethren and persecuted by the worldly power to which these latter will give their allegiance. Many of the Psalms express prophetically their feelings. During this period of suffering some will be martyred, while others will be brought through the great tribulation. It is to such that the words apply, “He that has endured to the end, he shall be saved” (Matt. 24:13 JND).

Prophecy shows us, then, that there will be an initial return of the Jewish nation in unbelief to Palestine (which is in part being fulfilled) and that God will work in the hearts of many, and a remnant will be secured who will preach the gospel of the kingdom, while those who do not believe will receive Antichrist and will be taken away in judgment at the Lord’s return, as it says:

“As the days of Noe, so also shall be the coming of the Son of Man. For as they were ... before the flood, eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day on which Noe entered into the ark, and they knew not till the flood came and took all away; thus also shall be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two shall be in the field, one is taken and one is left” (Matt. 24:37-40 JND).

That means one is taken away in judgment and the other left for blessing in the millennial kingdom of Christ. This is the reverse of what will happen at the rapture of the Church, when the believer is taken to heaven and the unbeliever is left for judgment.

Finally, God’s work will be completed and the nation of Israel will be united under Christ and enjoy the blessing of Christ’s kingdom for a thousand years on earth — the millennium. The nations, too, will come into blessing, and Israel will have her place as the head of the nations, while Jerusalem will be the earthly metropolis, and all nations will go up to worship God there. (See Zechariah 14:16.)

As we have previously observed, it is the portion of the heavenly saints to reign with Christ, and all who have part in the first resurrection will reign with Him during this thousand years. (See Revelation 20:6.) Just as Eve was associated with Adam in his headship over the creation, for it says, “Let them have dominion” (Gen. 1:26), so the Church, the bride of Christ, shares in His headship in the world to come. She is seen in Revelation 21-22 as “the bride, the Lamb’s wife ... the holy city, Jerusalem” (ch. 21:9-10 JND). The double type of the woman and the city shows both her place of near relationship to Christ and her place in the divine administration of the world to come. In a way which our minds cannot yet picture, the accumulated spiritual wealth of the Church — what God has wrought in the saints during the ages — will be brought into service in the administration of the world to come. Earth will look to heaven for light and guidance and will be illuminated by the Church, which is Christ’s fullness. This is clearly taught in the marvelous symbolic passage describing the heavenly city in the two closing chapters of Revelation, where it says quite distinctly, “The nations shall walk by its light” (Rev. 21:24 JND). What a contrast to the deceitful diplomacy, international strife and imperfect administration that mark the nations of the world today!

Just as the flood in Noah’s day cleansed the earth and Noah and his family stepped out into a purged world, so the world will start afresh with every evil element swept away in the judgment, and the millennium will begin with the converted nation of Israel and the unnumbered multitude of Gentiles who have received the everlasting gospel. These will all have been born again. But during the progress of the thousand years, millions will be born on earth who have not been through the experiences of their parents. At the close of the millennium, Satan will be loosed, and this becomes a solemn test to those who have grown up in the light that has shone from heaven during that time. The awful result is described in Revelation 20:710. It is the end: This earth has served its purpose. What is provisional must now give place to what is eternal. Evil will be dealt with finally at the “great white throne” (Rev. 20:11). There the dead will be judged according to their works. Believers do not, of course, come into this judgment. Satan himself and all whose names are not written in the book of life will be consigned to the lake of fire. The conflict between good and evil will be over: A new heaven and a new earth, which no stain of evil will ever mar and which sin can never spoil, will then come into view.

Bibliography

The literature bearing on the history of Christianity is so vast that no one person could read it all. The sources of the earlier history of the Church are found in the writings of Eusebius, Philostorgius, Socrates, Sozomen, Theodoret, Evagrius, the writings of the fathers, and, in later times, Bede. The Magdeburg Centuries were compiled in Reformation times, and later there are the well-known works of Mosheim, Neander and other German writers. To these must be added innumerable volumes in various languages, besides endless chronicles, records and ancient documents. The information from such sources has been digested by later writers, from among which the writer has relied chiefly on:

Milner’s History of the Church

History of the Church, Waddington

Early Days of Christianity, Farrar

Foxe’s Book of Martyrs

Miller’s Church History, Andrew Miller

History of the Reformation, Merle d’Aubigné

History of Protestantism, Wylie

History of the Expansion of Christianity, K. Latourette

Beside such general histories, the following works have been laid under tribute:

Nestorius, Loof

The Growing Day, F. F. Bruce

Light in the West, F. F. Bruce

The Eleven Treatises of Priscillian, Dr. G. Schepps

Priscillian and Priscillianisme, E. C. Babut (French)

Authentic Details of the Valdenses, anonymous, 1827, containing an abridged translation of L’histoire des Vaudois par Bresse

Select English Writings of Wycliffe, H. E. Winn

History of the Moravian Church, J. E. Hutton

The Story of the Anabaptists, E. C. Pike

Three Friends of God, Frances Bevan

The Reformation Writings of Martin Luther, translated by L. B. Woolf

Here I Stand (Luther), R. K. Bainton

By Faith Alone (Luther), W. J. Kooiman

History of the Puritans, Neal

The Lord Protector (Cromwell), R. S. Paul

The Worship of the English Puritans, Horton Davies

Puritanism and Richard Baxter, Hugh Martin

The Life and Times of John Bunyan, John Brown

The Quiet in the Land, Frances Bevan

Memoirs of Port Royal, Schimmelpfennig

History of the English Congregationalism, R. W. Dale

History of the English Baptists, A. C. Underwood

Religion Since the Reformation, L. Pullan

The English Free Churches, Horton Davies

The Protestant Tradition, J. S. Whale

The Methodist Story, C. J. Davies

A New History of Methodism, Townsend, Workman and Eayr

Lives of Donne, Hooker, etc., Walton

History of the English Church (Eighteenth Century), Overton and Relton

Life of Count Zinzendorf, A. G. Spangenberg

Serious Call, Law

Wesley’s Journal

England Before and After Wesley, J. Wesley Bready

Conversion of the Wesleys, J. E. Rattenbury

Wesley and His Century, W. H. Fitchett (1906)

Coronet and Cross (Lady Huntingdon), A. H. New

Lady Huntingdon and Her Circle, Sarah Tytler

Life of W. Doddridge, Stanford

George Whitefield, the Awakener, A. D. Belden

Christian Leaders of the Last [Eighteenth] Century, J. C. Ryle

Life of W. Wilberforce, Sir R. Coupland (1945)

The King’s Son, a Memoir of Billy Bray, F. W. Bourne

From Death Unto Life, W. Haslam

The Dairyman’s Daughter, Legh Richmond

The Lives of R. and J. Haldane, Alex Haldane

History of American Christianity, L. W. Bacon

American Revivals of Religion, C. Colton (1832)

The Seventh Earl of Shaftesbury, Edwin Hodder

Memoirs of C. G. Finney, by himself (1876)

Life of George Mueller, W. H. Harding (1914)

The Brethren, Andrew Miller

Chief Men Among the Brethren, H. Pickering

Life of J. N. Darby, W. G. Turner

Collected Writings of J. N. Darby

Letters of J. N. Darby

The Whole Case of Plymouth and Bethesda, W. H. Trotter

Literature and Mission of the So-Called Plymouth Brethren, anonymous, 1875, published by Nisbet and Co.

The Oxford Movement, J. Lewis May

C. H. Spurgeon, W. Y. Fullerton

Life of D. L. Moody, W. K. Moody

The Second Evangelical Awakening, J. E. Orr

Dr. Baedeker and His Apostolic Work in Russia, R. S. Latimer (1907)

Short History of Christian Missions, George Smith

Short Handbook of Missions, E. J. Stock

History of Christian Missions, Robinson

The Bible in World Evangelism, A. M. Chirgwin (1954)

The Growth of the World Church, A. E. Payne (1955)

The Chinese Empire, Marshall Broomhall (1905)

Growth of a Soul (Early Life of J. Hudson Taylor), Dr. and Mrs. Howard Taylor

Pastor Hsi: Confucian Scholar and Christian, Mrs. Howard Taylor

Christians and Christianity in India and Pakistan, P. Thomas

Progress of Worldwide Missions, R. H. Glover

Planting of Christianity in Africa, C. P. Groves (1948)

Mission Fields Today, A. J. Dain

Some Modern Religions, J. O. Sands and J. S. Wright

General histories and works of reference:

Dictionary of National Biography

Encyclopedia Britannica

History of the English People, Cassell

Nelson’s Encyclopedia

Rise of European Civilization, C. Seignobos

The Christian Testimony Through the Ages

Table of Contents

Preface

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Bibliography