Childhood Days⤒🔗

There are few, if any, more notable names in the history of Europe than that of Martin Luther, 'the solitary monk who shook the world'. To him God gave the signal honour of commencing on the Continent the movement known as the Reformation. The story of how he passed from dark­ness into light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that he might receive the forgiveness of sins, is singularly instruc­tive and worthy of continual remembrance.

Martin Luther was not of high birth, for like many of God's most eminent servants he came of the 'common people'. 'I am a peasant's son,' he said, 'My father, grandfather, all of my ancestors were thorough peasants.' Hans (John) and Gretha (Margaret) Luther, the parents of the great reformer, lived in Saxony, a state in the South of Germany, in the later fifteenth century. Their names have been made familiar to all Germans by the formula in the marriage service which Martin Luther afterwards drew up 'Hans, wilt thou take Gretha?' The soil of Saxony was not very favourable to agriculture, and though many of the Saxons engaged in farming, others preferred to earn a liveli­hood by mining, specially for copper which was abundant in the hills. The life was a hard one and although by un­remitting toil Hans Luther maintained his family and attained to a position of comparative comfort, a large part of his life was passed in poverty. Notwithstanding this, like many of the German peasants, he possessed a coat of arms, which in his case depicted a hammer on a granite block. One of Luther's brothers had a different coat of arms show­ing a crossbow with a rose on each side.

Martin, the eldest child of Hans and Gretha Luther, was born at the town of Eisleben on November 10^th, 1483, and as the following day was the feast of St. Martin, as observed by the Roman Catholic Church, he was called after that saint. Germany was, at that time, a land where the Roman Catholic Church held sway, and its people were blinded by the erroneous teachings, unscriptural customs, and idola­trous practices which the Pope and his clergy authorised and enforced. A large part of Catholic worship consisted of the adoration of relics which, whether genuine or spurious, were of no value to the worshipper. Also the people were taught that salvation came to men through their obedience in the church, in other words by the works which they themselves could perform, rather than by the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ and the work which He accomplished. Or, if Christ's work must be given a place, it was simply of value for patching the imperfect garment of salvation woven from man's own works.

Unhappily, the home into which Martin Luther was born was darkened in this way, as were countless other German homes. The darkness over the whole land was a darkness that could be felt, and which seemed to call for the out­pouring of God's judgment and wrath. But by the mercy and grace of God, in this land where superstition and idolatry held sway, though veiled under the name of Christianity, God now raised up a man destined to be a good soldier of Jesus Christ. By the preaching of the gospel of the grace of God he was instrumental in bringing into liberty many who had been the slaves of Satan and a false church.

Happily, it is recorded of Luther's parents that in the days of the Reformation they were among those upon whom the light of God shone, and this gave their son no little satisfaction and joy. Upon the death of his father, Martin Luther wrote thus to a friend: "Tis with me a pious duty to weep for him whom the Father of mercy destined to give me birth – for him by whose labour and sweat God nourished me, and made me what I am, such as that is. Oh, how I rejoice that he lived long enough to see the light of the truth! Blessed be God for ever, in all His counsels and decrees! Amen!" Gretha Luther, too, received much blessing from God through her own son, and in later years one of Luther's friends, eminent alike for gifts and grace, describes her as distinguished above all for her modesty, her fear of God, and her constant communion with God in prayer.

Although Luther's parents were in 1483 wrapped up in Roman Catholic teachings, there was much about their home that was pleasing and worthy of praise. The mother and father were alike industrious and spared no effort to provide for and educate their children, of whom there were at least seven, four sons and three daughters. 'My father,' said the Reformer, 'was a poor miner; my mother carried in all the wood upon her back; they worked the flesh off their bones to bring us up; no one nowadays would ever have such endurance.' Towards the close of their lives, when their affairs were more prosperous, both of them sat for their portraits to the famous painter, Lucas Cranach, and we can discern in these the effects of the strenuous toil which characterized their lives. The Reformer is said to have resembled his mother in appearance. Her features, though careworn and angular, suggest a quiet and meditative mind, and strength of will and purpose. When Martin Luther be­came famous as a result of the warfare he waged with the Roman Church, malicious tales were invented by his foes concerning his parents, but these were entirely without foundation; his parents carried themselves honourably to the end. The Reformer counted it a joy to come of such simple and God-fearing stock, and they on their part esteemed it their greatest honour to have such a son.

The discipline of Luther's childhood home has been termed 'unusually severe', and this was probably the case. Luther's father, his character largely moulded by the severity of his occupation, ruled his house with rigour, and exerted his parental authority to the full. Once, we are told, he flogged his son so severely that the latter fled from him and bore him a grudge for a considerable time afterwards, and as a usual thing he had such a fear of his father that he always hid in the chimney corner when he had done any­thing to anger him. Strict rule was also exercised in the house by the mother, who shared her husband's fault of occasional harshness. On one occasion she whipped her son till the blood flowed for stealing a hazel-nut. Punishment in the home does not seem to have been proportioned to the offence. Yet, in spite of this failure, the discipline worked Martin Luther good rather than harm, and he came in time to realize that it was meant for his profit. In later years, indeed, he seemed to recognize that parental correction for his faults made him the more keenly sensitive of his faults before God. Such a sensitiveness is no mean possession.

Luther's schooldays began early, and by the age of six he could read and write with a fair degree of ease. Reading, writing and Latin were the subjects in which he was first instructed, but the teaching he was under seems to have been of a very inferior kind, and he spoke in after life of the vexations and torments which resulted from the almost barbarous teaching of Latin conjugations and declensions. Small respect was shown for the feelings of the pupils. Schoolmasters, he says, in those days were tyrants and executioners, the schools were prisons, and in spite of blows, trembling, fear and misery, the boys made little progress. Once, he tells us, he was whipped fifteen times during a single morning for no fault of his own, having been called on to repeat what he had never been taught. During his youth the terror inspired by such schoolmasters never left him, and harsh language or usage often served to bring back recollections of his torment. Thus, when he was about fifteen years of age he went with certain friends to sing carols from door to door. At the door of a solitary farm­house the farmer came out and called to them in a harsh voice as though displeased, 'Where are you, young rascals?' The farmer's intention was to reward them with two large sausages which he carried in his hand, but such was the fear which his rough words produced, that the boys ran away terrified, and only returned for the sausages after much friendly persuasion.

Luther remained at his first school until he was fourteen, when his father determined to send him to a better school in Magdeburg, which lay at a considerable distance from his home-town. Luther went there on foot, knapsack on back and stick in hand, his heart doubtless troubled with con­flicting feelings as he left the parental roof and faced life alone amid strange sights and faces. Such a moment is often critical in the life of youth. Absence from home and home life, and separation from parental discipline for the first time, is a real testing of character and conduct. Not a few, alas! deem the occasion suitable for spending themselves in riotous living, but where the grace of God is at work there is victory over sin. How far Luther's conduct at Magdeburg corresponded with his conduct at home we do not know, but school discipline, though it could not satisfactorily re­place home discipline, would to some extent make up for its absence.

Luther only remained about a year at Magdeburg and then his father, for reasons unknown, had him transferred to another school at Eisenach. The money with which his father supplied him was not sufficient to cover all the expenses of board and lodging as well as schooling, and, together with other scholars similarly placed, Luther used to sing hymns from door to door and receive small gifts as was the custom in Germany at that period. 'Let no one in my presence,' he said, 'speak contemptuously of the poor fellows who go from door to door, singing and begging bread. You know the psalm says, "Princes and kings have sung". I myself was once a poor mendicant seeking my bread at people's houses, particularly at Eisenach – my own dear Eisenach!'

Luther received much help at this time from Frau (Mrs.) Cotta, a lady of some wealth who lived in Eisenach, and who took pity on the poor striving scholar. His singing found a way to her heart, and for the four years during which Luther remained at Eisenach he was welcomed to her table and greatly assisted in his studies. For the first time he was introduced to a well-to-do home circle, and the peasant's son learned to move in a higher rank of society than that to which his parents belonged.

Student Days←⤒🔗

Martin Luther's schoolboy days ended at Eisenach, and by the time he was eighteen years of age he had fitted himself for entry into a university. By this time also Hans Luther's earnings had considerably increased, so that the father could now afford to pay his son's expenses. 'My dear father,' said the Reformer later, 'maintained me at the uni­versity with loyal affection, and by his labour and the sweat of his brow enabled me to go there.' Erfurt was the centre of learning fixed upon, and to it in the summer of 1501 the youthful student turned his steps. A merry, jovial young fellow, full of buoyant life, he little realized that even at this time God was preparing him almost imperceptibly for a career of activity which was to astonish Europe. Equally little did his parents, his friends, and his tutors realize that the light-hearted yet hardworking student, without influence, wealth, or high birth, was to be the originator of a movement which was to shake a proud and polluted church to its foundations. But God's 'chosen vessels' are often hidden in obscurity until the time comes for their work to begin. They are in the deserts until the day of their showing unto Israel.

Of Luther's studies at Erfurt little need be said. Seven subjects were taught at most universities during the Middle Ages: Grammar (the art of writing correctly); Rhetoric (the art of making effective speeches); Logic (the art of reasoning); and Astronomy, Geometry, Arithmetic, and Music. Latin was the language of learning and of the learned, and to this in the sixteenth century Greek was added. Erfurt indeed had the honour of being the first German University to issue a Greek book in Greek type. Luther greatly delighted in such study. Barren and un­profitable as much of it was, he pursued it with all the vigour of his soul, with the result that his intellect was sharpened and he became a master of debate and argument. It is impossible to explain in few words exactly why Luther's studies at this period of his life were mostly barren. Suffice it to say that they dealt much with hair-splitting distinc­tions, and were clothed in a phraseology which was totally beyond the apprehension of all but the learned few. It was for this reason that in after years, when Luther had been enlightened by the entrance into his soul of God's word, he greatly regretted the time he had wasted in 'philosophy and vain deceit, after the traditions of men and not after Christ'; and even spoke of these studies with disgust.

In due course Luther took his degree as Master of Arts at his university. 'What a moment of majesty and splendour,' he said later, 'was that when one took the degree of Master, and torches were carried before, and honour was paid one. I consider that no temporal or worldly joy can equal it.'

Luther's studies, however, were not yet ended. His general education was completed, it is true, but the time had now arrived when he must decide what profession in life he was to follow. His father and several of his relations considered that his acute mind would enable him to excel as a lawyer, and bowing to their wishes in the absence of any definite schemes of his own, he prepared himself for a course of lectures in law and purchased expensive text-books for the purpose. However by this time the Lord was beginning to deal with his soul, and it will be necessary for us to leave Luther at his legal studies for a brief period in order to return to his earlier life once again, and inquire as to his knowledge of God and of the grace of God that bringeth salvation.

It has already been seen that Luther had been brought up in a home where the Name of God was held in rev­erence, but where the Word of God was almost entirely unknown. 'The entrance of Thy Word giveth light,' sang the Psalmist, but this light was altogether absent from homes and hearts alike in the case of countless German families of the early sixteenth century. Printed Bibles were still very expensive, but stronger reason still against their use – the Roman Catholic clergy warned the people against them. Luther never set eyes upon a Bible until he was in his twentieth year, and then as it were accidentally, but actually in God's good purpose, he came across a copy in a monastic library to which as a university student he had access.

As a youth Luther was taught to think of God as holy and unapproachable and as One who punished sin. He had no light or contemptuous thoughts of the majesty and greatness of God, nor of the terrors of hell for the sinner under His wrath and displeasure. But (great omission!) he was not taught to regard Christ as the Way, the only Way, to the Father, and as the One who put away, who alone could put away, sins by the sacrifice of Himself. Rather did he regard Christ as an angry, threatening Judge, and sinful man must seek protection from Him at the hands of Mary, the mother of the Lord Jesus, and at the hands of other saints. Certain saints were often associated with particular localities. Thus in the mining district of Saxony where Hans Luther was settled, St. Anna, whom the Catholic church regarded as the mother of the Virgin Mary, was held in high honour, and Martin Luther himself, when a boy, wished to place himself under her protection. From earliest days indeed Roman Catholic traditions made no small impression on Luther. Even during his busy student life he never lost his regard for religious observances. Every day was begun with prayer; every day he attended mass. At regular inter­vals he attended the confessional. To the utmost of his ability he endeavoured to obey the Divine law so as to earn God's favour and smile. When his conscience charged him with failure and wrongdoing he laboured to quiet its burning accusations by performing the duties and satisfac­tions taught by the church. He did not understand, nor was he taught, that Christ welcomes burdened, despairing sinners to Himself, and puts away their sin and guilt freely by His grace. Instead he imagined that he must produce good works and do his utmost to fulfil God's righteous law. When he heard such sayings as 'Serve the Lord with fear,' he understood them to mean the fear which the slave has for a harsh and brutal master, and not the fear which a son has for a kind and loving father.

As year followed year and no remedy presented itself to Luther's soul, fits of despair seized him; and he was tempted to blaspheme God, because like the servant in the parable, he thought Him to be austere and hard, reaping where He had not sowed and gathering where He had not strawed. If illness afflicted him, thoughts of death presented themselves before him, and plunged him into deep gloom, though in one such illness a friend who visited him, seeing his melancholy and distressed state of mind said, 'Take courage; God will yet make you the means of comfort to many others'; which words, it is recorded, were strongly impressed upon him.

These exercises of soul belong chiefly to Luther's later student days. To those days, also, belongs the discovery of the Bible which has already been mentioned. Erfurt pos­sessed several Latin Bibles, printed by the machines de­signed by John Guttenberg, the inventor of the printing press. Luther was greatly surprised to find that the Bible contained very much that the church kept back from the people. His surprise was followed by joy as for the first time, in turning the Bible page, the story of Hannah and the infant Samuel came to his notice. 'Oh God,' he prayed, 'could I possess one of these books, I should ask no other worldly treasure!'

The youthful Luther was further impressed and distressed by several incidents, the first being an accident which befell him while he journeyed home one holiday season from Erfurt. As was usual for students in those days he carried at his side a rapier or dagger which in some way became detached from its sheath, and fell, severing the main artery of his leg. His companion at once went for the doctor, and Luther was left alone to press the wound tightly and prevent the blood from gushing forth. For some little time he lay upon the roadway face to face with death, and had not help been speedily forthcoming, his life blood would probably have fast ebbed away. In utter distress of mind and an agony of soul he had never before exper­ienced, he called upon the Virgin for help, and doubtless vowed to serve her faithfully, when succour at length arrived and his life was saved.

On another occasion one of Luther's bosom companions suddenly met his death, and tradition has it that he was struck down at his side by a stroke of lightning while Luther himself was spared. Be this as it may, it is certainly true that at the age of twenty-one Luther was journeying near Erfurt when a terrific storm broke over his head. A vivid flash of lightning passed before his eyes, followed by thunder which seemed to rend the heavens. Stricken with fear he fell prostrate to the ground, and exclaimed amid his terrors, 'Help, Anna, beloved saint, I will be a monk.' A few days later he bade farewell to his friends. 'Do not be so rash,' they said. 'Today you see me,' he replied, 'and never again.' The next day he presented himself at the gate of a monastery in Erfurt and, being an accomplished scholar, he found it an easy matter to gain admission. As the doors closed behind him he thought he had finished with the world, and was at last in a path which would give him acceptance with God. In the life of a monk he hoped to find the solution for all his problems and perplexities, and the heavenly peace which would banish all his fears. Little did he realize how great was his mistake. But God knew, and the hand of God was upon him for good. Soon he was to learn great and mighty things which so far had been hidden from his eyes.

A Visit to Rome←⤒🔗

An account was given of the way in which, by a divine work, the light of Gospel truth began to dawn upon Luther's soul. The freeness of God's forgiveness of sins astounded him, for the Spirit caused him to realize that it was without money and without price; in other words, without the painful toiling that he had engaged in while under the law, as he strove to merit the favor of God. The Spirit-taught lessons now impressed upon the Reformer never left him, and when the Reformation began in Germany it was simply a pouring out of blessing similar to that which had already been bestowed upon the monk in the monastery at Erfurt. The Reformation, it has been truly said, was first worked out in Luther's own soul. Not that he was as yet clear of many superstitions and misbeliefs. Unlike John Calvin, who passed from darkness to light with remarkable speed, Luther grew in knowledge over a period of years, and it is needful for students of his theology to take careful note of its chronological development.

Luther remained in the monastery for a little more than three years and then his friend Staupitz secured him an appointment as Professor of Theology in the University of Wittenberg. At first he found little pleasure in the work, for it was expected that his lectures would expound man's words and man's wisdom rather than the divine wisdom found in Scripture. But shortly Luther is found delivering evangelical sermons in profusion. Indeed, the old clay-plastered wooden chapel, a mere thirty feet in length and twenty in width, in which the sermons were delivered to 'a handful of monks and professors', has been described as 'the cradle of the German Reformation'. Although these early sermons fell far short of the 'full-orbed Gospel' which Luther later proclaimed, yet they reflected his new-born experience of the grace of God. Much truth he had yet to learn. Meanwhile the Word was fulfilled to him: 'If any man will do His (God's) will he shall know of the doctrine.' If Luther's beginnings were small, his latter end was destined greatly to increase.

While the Reformer was thus occupied at Wittenberg, he was suddenly called aside to undertake a mission to Rome on behalf of Staupitz. The prospect of such a journey filled him with delight, for to him Rome was a veritable holy of holies, where lived the choicest of saints, and not least the Pope himself, whom Luther regarded as a kind of god upon earth. Accompanied by a brother monk, he set out across the Alps and so came into Italy, expecting to find that the nearer he got to Rome the more holy everything and every place would appear. But to his intense horror and deep sor­row he found, on the contrary, that Italy was a land of darkness rather than light. Many of the churchmen with whom he came into contact revelled in the lap of luxury, and gave to the simple-minded Germans the impression that there was in them more of that carnal-mindedness which is death than of that spiritual-mindedness which is life and peace. Of bodily discomfort, also, the travellers had experi­ence, for the hot Italian sun caused them no small distress. On one occasion they were taken ill, solely in consequence, it is said, of having slept with the casement open, thus admitting the pestilential night air for which certain parts of Italy had an ill fame. Another account, however, ascribes their illness to the fact that they drank some stagnant water from a wayside pool. It is recorded that their cure was effected by the eating of pomegranates.

When the two men arrived within sight of Rome, Luther fell upon his knees, raised his hands to heaven, and ex­claimed with deep emotion, 'Hail, holy Rome! made holy by the holy martyrs, and by the blood which has been spilt there.' His admiration for the so-called holy city was, however, soon dispelled, but the explanation of this is best given in Luther's own words, written twenty years after his visit.

I remember,' he says, 'that when I went to Rome I ran about like a madman to all the churches, all the convents, all the places of note of every kind; I implicitly believed every tale about all of them that imposture had invented. I said a dozen mases, and I almost regretted that my father and mother were not dead so that I might have availed myself of the opportunity to draw their souls out of purgatory by a dozen or more masses and other good works of a similar description. Tis a proverb at Rome, "Happy the mother whose son says mass for her on the eve of St. John." How glad I should have been to have saved my mother. We did these things then, knowing no better; 'tis the pope's interest to encourage such lies. Now, thank God, we have the Gospels, the Psalms, and the other words of God. To them we can make pilgrimages more useful than any others; in them we can visit and contemplate the true promised land, the true Jerusalem, the true paradise. In them we walk, not amid the tombs of saints, or over their mortal relics, but in their hearts, their thoughts, their spirit.

Luther was repeatedly shocked in Rome by the wicked and worldly lives lived by many of the highest officers of the church, by their lust after the rich things of the world, and, most of all, by the lightness with which they often referred to the most sacred names or subjects. Julius II, the Pope at this time, was scarcely anything more than a scheming statesman, greedy of gain, and willing to obtain his ends by fair means or foul. When our Reformer arrived in Rome, Julius was engaged in a war against the French. From such scenes Luther turned with a sorrowful heart to try to find consolation in the performance of the various works which engaged the attention of Christendom's pilgrims. It was customary, for example, for a pilgrim to climb on his knees, while muttering prayers, the marble staircase which, it was claimed, had belonged to the Judgment Hall of Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem. Accounts of what happened to Luther vary as between 19^th century and 20^th century historians. The former tend to make much of Luther's experience at this crisis of his career, the latter to play it down. The fact is that such records as exist supply somewhat divergent accounts of the climbing, and it is not easy to weave them together into a consistent narrative. On the one hand there is a letter preserved in the handwriting of Paul Luther, Martin Luther's younger son, in which he states:

In the year 1544 my late dearest father, in the presence of us all, narrated the whole story of his journey to Rome. He acknowledged with great joy that, in that city, through the Spirit of Jesus Christ, he had come to the knowledge of the truth of the everlasting gospel. It happened in this way. As he repeated his prayers on the Lateran staircase, the words of the prophet Habakkuk came suddenly to his mind: "The just shall live by faith." Thereupon he ceased his prayers, returned to Wittenberg, and took this as the chief founda­tion of all his doctrine.

On the other hand, in a sermon on Colossians 1:9 ff., preached on September 15, 1545, Luther himself stated: 'As at Rome I wished to liberate my grandfather (Heine Luther) from purgatory, I went up the staircase of Pilate, praying a pater noster on each step, for I was convinced that he who prayed thus could redeem his soul. But when I came to the top step, the thought kept coming to me, "Who knows whether this is true?"'

Maybe, if we had fuller details of the event we could see how the two narratives fit together. It is certainly unwise to dismiss the one of them, according to choice, as a fiction, as does Roland H. Bainton in his popular life of Luther en­titled Here I Stand. His words run, 'At the top, Luther raised himself and exclaimed, not as legend would have it, "The just shall live by faith" – he was not yet that far advanced. What he said was, "Who knows whether it is so?"'

It is clear that the visit to the imperial city was of crucial importance to Luther's development as a reformer. In his anticipation Rome was an earthly Paradise, the scene of all that was fairest and most to be revered in Christian story. In the outcome his reverence was turned into loathing. As T. M. Lindsay said: 'The city which he had greeted as holy was a sink of iniquity; its very priests were openly infidel and scoffed at the services they performed; the papal courtiers were men of the most shameless lives; he was accustomed to repeat the Italian proverb, "If there is a hell, Rome is built over it." It was much for him in after days that he had seen Rome for that month which he had spent in the papal capital.' 'I must see Rome,' the apostle Paul had once exclaimed (Acts 19:21), and in the Lord's good time he arrived in the pagan capital. Luther's visit, a millennium and a half later, must have caused him to wonder whether in any respect at all Rome's professed Christianity was superior in moral and spiritual value to the ancient paganism.

Yet it must be confessed that the German Reformer did not lack credulity. He seems to have believed that the relics which he saw were genuine. Rome was filled with them. Says E. G. Schwiebert, Professor of History in Wittenberg College, Ohio:

He was shown the wall behind which the three hundred slain children of Bethlehem lie buried … the chain of St. Paul, and the column next to which the great Apostle had once preached … He saw the rope used to drag Jesus to His Passion, eleven thorns from Christ's crown of thorns, the sponge used to give Him drink … a nail from the cross, the inscription of Pilate, a large and a small piece of the cross, another from the cross of one of the male­factors … some milk and some hair of the Virgin Mary … a cross made out of the shining sword with which St. Paul had been beheaded, the table on which John read Mass on the Isle of Patmos, two pieces of the five loaves with which Jesus fed the five thousand … the stone that had sealed Christ's grave, the rope with which Judas hanged himself All that Luther saw, he later related, he believed at the time to be genuine, and did not have the slightest doubt as to its authenticity.

Obviously, Luther still had to learn the difference between blind credulity and Spirit-imparted faith, and from this point of time that knowledge came with increasing rapidity. Later he said, 'I would not have missed seeing Rome for 100,000 florins; I should have always felt an uneasy doubt whether I was not, after all, doing injustice to the Pope. As it is, I am quite satisfied on the point.'

As for Christian doctrine, it is clear that, by this time, Luther had become well established in the great truth of Justification by Faith, and as the apostle Paul's Epistle to the Romans was of vital importance to him in this con­nection, we conclude this 'Visit to Rome' by quoting the opening and closing paragraphs of the Preface to the Epistle which Luther prepared when his translation of the Bible into German was made at a later date.

This Epistle,' he wrote, 'is the right corner-stone of the New Testament, and the purest gospel, and is in itself so valuable that a Christian should not only know it by heart, word by word, but should have daily intercourse with it as with the daily bread of the soul. For it can never be too much and too well read and considered, and the more it is examined the more precious it becomes, and the more it will be relished … We find in this Epistle most copiously treated whatever a Christian ought to know, namely, what are the Law and the Gospel – sin, punishment, grace, faith, and righteousness, Christ and God, good works, charity, hope and crosses; how we ought to act towards every one, whether he be a religious man or a sinner, strong or weak, friend or foe, and how we ought to act towards ourselves. And all this so admirably laid down with examples from Holy Writ, and so exemplified both by himself and from the Prophets, as to leave nothing to wish for. It would seem as if St. Paul in his Epistle wished to epitomize the whole faith and doctrine of the Gospel of Christ, and thus prepare us an introduction to the whole of the Old Testament. For without doubt he who has this Epistle well by heart has in him the light and the power of the Old Testament. Every Christian should, therefore, make it his own, and observe it constantly in practice. May the grace of God be with him! Amen.