During the sixteenth century there was in Trinity College, Cambridge, a student, a young doctor of divinity. He was much given to the study of canonical law, and being of a serious turn of mind, he strove, although ineffectually, to fulfill the commandments of God.
Anxious about his soul's salvation, the young man, Thomas Bilney, applied to the clergy whom he looked upon as physicians of the spirit. Kneeling before them, humbly and self-accusing, he told them all his sins and even those of which he doubted. They prescribed, at one time, fasting; at another, prolonged vigils; then pilgrimages and other devotions, which cost him dearly. The poor doctor went through all these practices with great devotion, but found no consolation in them. Being naturally weak in body, he wasted away by degrees; his understanding became confused, and his purse became empty.
"Alas," said he in despair; "my last state is worse than the first."
One day Bilney overheard his friends stealthily whispering about a new book. It was the Greek New Testament recently translated, which they highly praised for its consistency. Attracted by the beauty of the style, rather than by the divinity of the subject, Bilney sought to see the Book for himself and stretched out his hand for it. Just as he was going to take the volume, superstitious fear came upon him and he quickly withdrew his hand. Then came the thought: Was it not the testament of Jesus Christ? Might not God have placed therein some word which perhaps might heal his soul?
At last, urged by the Spirit of God, Thomas Bilney took courage. He slipped into the house where the volume was sold in secret, bought it with fear and trembling, and then hastened back and shut himself up in his room.
He opened it—his eyes caught these 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." He laid down the Book, and meditated on the astonishing declaration. "What! St. Paul, the chief of sinners, and yet St. Paul is sure of being saved?" He read the verse again and again. "O assertion of St. Paul, how sweet thou art to my soul!" he exclaimed.
This declaration continually haunted him; and, in this manner, God instructed him in the secret of his heart. He could not tell what had happened to him: it seemed as if a refreshing wind were blowing over his soul, or as if a rich treasure had been placed in his hands. The Holy Spirit took the word as Christ's, and announced it to him. "I am a sinner like Paul," he cried; "and, like Paul, the greatest of sinners. But Christ alone saves sinners. At last I have heard of Jesus." His doubts were ended, his sins forgiven, and he was saved.
"I see it now," said Bilney. "My vigils, my fasts, my pilgrimages, my devotions, were all destroying instead of saving me." All these efforts on his part had been in vain.
Bilney never grew tired of reading and proclaiming his New Testament. A true witness to Jesus Christ had been born by the same power that had transformed Paul, Apollos, and Timothy.