LUTHER was not the first monk who had undergone such trials. The gloomy walls of the cloisters often concealed the most abominable vices; often, however, they hid Christian virtues that expanded there in silence, and which, had they been exposed to the eyes of the world, would have excited universal admiration. The possessors of these virtues' living only with themselves and with God, attracted no attention, and were often unknown to the modest convent in which they were enclosed: their lives were known only to God. Sometimes these humble solitaries fell into that mystic theology, - sad "disease" of the noblest minds! - which in earlier ages had been the delight of the first monks on the banks of the Nile, and which unprofitably consumes the souls of those who become its victims.

Yet if one of these men was called to some high station, he displayed virtues in it whose salutary influence was long and widely felt. The candle thus was set on a candlestick; it illumined the whole house, and many were awakened by this light. Thus from generation to generation were these pious souls propagated; they were seen shining like isolated torches at the very times when the cloisters were often receptacles of darkness.

One such torch in the German convents was a young man named John Staupitz. He was descended from a noble Misnian family, and from his tenderest youth had had a taste for knowledge and a love of virtue. Feeling the need of retirement to devote himself to letters, he soon discovered that philosophy and the study of nature could not do much towards eternal salvation. He therefore began to study theology, but especially endeavored to unite practice with knowledge. "For," says one of his biographers, "it is in vain that we assume the name of divine (clergyman, versed in divinity), if we do not confirm that noble title by our lives." The study of the Bible and of the Augustine theology, the knowledge of himself, the battles that he, like Luther, had had to fight against the deceits and lusts of his heart, led him to the Redeemer. He found peace for his soul in faith in Christ. The doctrine of election by grace had taken strong hold of his mind. The integrity of his life, the extent of his knowledge, the eloquence of his speech, not less than a striking exterior and dignified manners, recommended him to his contemporaries. Frederick the Wise, elector of Saxony, made him his friend, employed him in various embassies, and founded the University of Wittenberg under his direction. This disciple of St. Paul and St. Augustine was the first dean of the theological faculty of that school from which the light was one day to issue to illumine the schools and churches of so many nations. Present at the Lateran council, as proxy of the Archbishop of Saltzburg, he became provincial of his order in Thuringia and Saxony, and afterwards vicar-general of the Augustines for all Germany.

John Staupitz was grieved at the corruption of morals and the errors of doctrine that were devastating the Church. His own writings on the love of God, on Christian faith, and on conformity with the death of Christ, as well as the testimony of Luther, confirm this. But he considered the former evil of more importance than the latter. Besides the mildness and indecision of his character, his desire not to go beyond the sphere of action he thought assigned to him made him more fit to be the restorer of a convent than the reformer of the Church. He would have wished to raise none but distinguished men to important offices, but not finding them, he submitted to employ others. "We must plow," said he, "with such horses as we can find; and with oxen, if there are no horses."

We have noted the anguish and the internal struggles to which Luther was a prey in the convent of Erfurt. It was at this time that a visitation of the vicar-general was announced, for Staupitz came to make his usual inspection. This friend of Frederick, the founder of the University of Wittenberg, and chief of the Augustines, exhibited much kindness to monks under his authority. One of these brothers attracted his attention. He was a young man of middle height, whom study, fasting, and prolonged vigils had so wasted away that all his bones might be counted. His eyes, that were in later life compared to a falcon's, were sunken; his manner was dejected; his countenance betrayed an agitated mind, the prey of a thousand struggles, but yet strong and resolute. His whole appearance was grave, melancholy, and solemn: Staupitz, whose discernment had been exercised by long experience, easily discovered what was passing in his mind, and marked the youthful monk above all who surrounded him. He felt drawn to him, and had a presentiment of his great destiny. He had had to struggle, like Luther, and therefore he could understand him. Above all, he could point out to him the road to peace, which he himself had found. What he learned of the circumstances that had brought the young Augustine into the convent still more increased his sympathy. He requested the prior to treat him with greater mildness, and took advantage of the opportunities afforded by his station to win the confidence of the youthful brother. Approaching him with affection, he endeavored by every means to dispel his timidity, which was increased by the respect and fear that a man of such exalted rank as Staupitz must necessarily inspire.

Luther's heart, which harsh treatment had closed till then, opened at last and expanded. "As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man." Luther's heart found an echo in that of Staupitz. The vicar-general understood him. The monk felt a confidence towards him that he had as yet experienced for none. He revealed to him the cause of his dejection, described the horrible thoughts that perplexed him. Then began in the cloister of Erfurt those conversations so full of wisdom and of instruction. Up to this time no one had understood Luther. One day, when at the table in the refectory, the young monk, dejected and silent, scarcely touched his food. Staupitz, who looked earnestly at him, said at last, "Why are you so sad, brother Martin?" "Ah!" replied Luther, with a deep sigh, "I do not know what will become of me!" "These temptations," resumed Staupitz, "are more necessary to you than eating and drinking." These two men did not stop there; and erelong in the silence of the cloister there took place conversation which powerfully contributed to lead forth the future reformer from his state of darkness.

"It is in vain," said Luther despondingly to Staupitz, "that I make promises to God: sin is ever the strongest."

"O my friend!" replied the vicar-general, as he looked back on his own experience, "more than a thousand times have I sworn to our holy God to live piously, and I have never kept my vows. Now I swear no longer, for I know that I cannot keep my solemn promises. If God will not be merciful towards me for the love of Christ, and grant me a happy departure, when I must quit this world, I shall never, with the aid of all my vows and all my good works, stand before Him. I must perish."

The young monk was terrified at the thought of divine justice. He laid open all his fears to the vicar-general. He was alarmed at the unspeakable holiness of God and His sovereign majesty. "Who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall stand when he appeareth?" (Mal- 3:2).

Staupitz resumed: he knew where he had found peace, and he resolved to point it out to the young man. "Why," said he, "do you torment yourself with all these speculations and these high thoughts? . . . Look at the wounds of Jesus Christ, to the blood that He has shed for you; it is there that the grace of God will appear to you. Instead of torturing yourself on account of your sins, throw yourself into the Redeemer's arms. Trust in Him - in the righteousness of His life - in the atonement of His death. Do not shrink back; God is not angry with you; it is you who are angry with God. Listen to the Son of God. He became man to give you the assurance of divine favor. He says to you, ‘You are My sheep; you hear My voice; no man shall pluck you out of My hand.’ "

But Luther did not find in himself the repentance which he thought necessary for salvation, and he made the reply which is the usual answer of distressed and timid minds: "How can I dare believe in the favor of God, so long as there is no real conversion in me? I must be changed before He will accept me."

His venerable guide showed him that there can be no real conversion so long as man fears God as a severe Judge. "What will you say then," asked Luther, "to so many consciences to which a thousand insupportable tasks are prescribed in order that they may gain heaven?"

Then he heard this reply of the vicar-general, but he could not believe that it came from man; it seemed to him like a voice from heaven. "There is no real repentance except that which begins with the love of God and of righteousness. What others imagine to be the end and accomplishment of repentance is, on the contrary, only its beginning. In order that you may be filled with the love of what is good, you must first be filled with love for God. If you desire to be converted, do not be curious about all these mortifications and all these tortures. Love Him who first loved you!"

Luther listened - he listened again. These consolations filled him with joy till then unknown, and imparted to him new light. "It is Jesus Christ," thought he in his heart: "Yes, it is Jesus Christ Himself who so wonderfully consoles me by these sweet and healing words."

These words, indeed, penetrated to the bottom of the young monk's heart, like the sharp arrow of a strong man. In order to repent, we must love God. Guided by this new light, he began to compare the Scriptures. He looked out all the passages that treat of repentance and conversion. Luther himself tells us that these words, till then so dreaded, "are become to me an agreeable pastime and the sweetest of recreations. All the passages of Scripture that used to alarm me seem now to run to me from every part, - to smile and sport around me."

"Hitherto," he exclaims, "although I carefully dissembled the state of my soul before God, and endeavored to express towards Him a love which was a mere constraint and a fiction, there was no expression in Scripture so bitter to me as that of repentance. But now there is none so sweet or more acceptable. Oh! how delightful are all God's precepts when we read them not only in books, but also in our Saviour's precious wounds!"

Luther had been consoled by Staupitz' words, but he nevertheless fell sometimes into despondency. Sin was again felt in his timid conscience, and then all his previous despair banished the joy of salvation. "O my sin! my sin! my sin!" cried the young monk one day in the presence of the vicar-general, with a tone of profound anguish. "Well! would you only be a sinner in appearance," replied the latter, "and have also a Saviour only in appearance? Then," added Staupitz with authority, "know that Jesus Christ is the Saviour even of those who are great, real sinners, and deserving of utter condemnation."

It was not alone the sin he discovered in his heart that agitated Luther; the troubles of his conscience were augmented by those of reason. If the holy precepts of the Bible alarmed him, some of the doctrines of that divine Book still more increased his tortures. The truth, which is the great medium by which God confers peace on man, must necessarily begin by taking away from him the false security that destroys him. The doctrine of election particularly disturbed this young man. It launched him into a boundless field of inquiry. Must he believe that it was man who first chose God for his portion, or that God first elected man? The Bible, history, daily experience, the works of Augustine, - all had shown him that we must always and in every case ascend to that First Cause, to that sovereign will by which everything exists, and on which everything depends. But his ardent spirit would have desired to go still further; he would have wished to penetrate into the secret councils of God, to unveil His mysteries, to see the invisible, and to comprehend the incomprehensible. Staupitz checked him. He told him not to presume to fathom the hidden God, but to confine himself to what He has manifested to us in Jesus Christ. "In Him," the Lord has said, "you will find what I am, and what I require. Nowhere else, neither in heaven nor in earth, will you discover it."

The vicar-general did still more. He showed Luther the fatherly designs of Providence in permitting these temptations and these various struggles that his soul was to undergo. He made him view them in a light well calculated to revive his courage. By such trials God prepares for Himself the souls that He destines for some important work. We must prove the vessel before we launch it into the wide sea. If there is an education necessary for every man, there is a particular one for those who are destined to act upon their generation. This is what Staupitz represented to the monk of Erfurt. "It is not in vain," he assured Luther, "that God exercises you in so many conflicts: you will see that He will employ you, as His servant, for great purposes."

Luther listened with astonishment and humility. He was inspired with courage, and he discovered strength in himself which he had not even suspected. The wisdom and prudence of an enlightened friend gradually revealed the strong man to himself. Staupitz went further; he gave him many valuable directions for his studies, exhorting him, henceforward, to derive all his theology from the Bible, and to put away the systems of the schools. "Let the study of the Scriptures," said he, "be your favorite occupation." Never was good advice better followed out. What particularly delighted Luther was the present Staupitz made him of a Bible, but it was not that red leather-bound Latin one, the property of the convent, which it had been his desire to possess and to carry about with him. He had wanted that one because he was so familiar with its pages, and knew where to find each passage. Nevertheless, at last he was master of the Treasure of God. Henceforward he studied the Scriptures, and especially the epistles of St. Paul, with ever increasing zeal. To these he added the works of St. Augustine alone. All that he read was imprinted deeply in his mind. His struggles had prepared his heart to understand the Word. The soil had been plowed deep; the incorruptible Seed sank into it with power. When Staupitz quitted Erfurt, a new dawn had risen upon Luther!

But the work was not yet finished. The vicar-general had prepared the way: God reserved its accomplishment for an humbler instrument. The conscience of the young Augustine had not yet found repose. His body gave way at last under the conflict and the tension of his soul. He was attacked by illness that brought him to the brink of the grave. This was in the second year of his abode in the convent. All his distresses and all his fears were aroused at the approach of death. His own impurity and the holiness of God again disturbed his mind. One day, as he lay overwhelmed with despair, an aged monk entered his cell, and addressed a few words of comfort to him. Luther opened his heart to him, and made known the fears by which he was tormented. The venerable man was incapable of following up that soul in all its doubts, as Staupitz had done, but he knew his Credo, and had found in it much consolation to his heart. He therefore applied the same remedy to his young brother.

Leading him back to that Apostles' creed which Luther had learned in early childhood at the school of Mansfeldt, the aged monk repeated this article with kind good nature: "I believe in the forgiveness of sins." These simple words, which the pious brother pronounced with sincerity in this decisive moment, diffused great consolation in Luther's heart. "I believe," he repeated to himself erelong on his bed of sickness, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins!" – "Ah!" said the monk, "You must believe not only in the forgiveness of David's and of Peter's sins, for this even the devils believe. It is God's command that we believe our own sins are forgiven us." How delightful did this commandment seem to poor Luther! "Hear what St. Bernard says in his discourse on the Annunciation," added the aged brother: "The testimony of the Holy Ghost in thy heart is this: Thy sins are forgiven thee." From this moment light sprang up in the heart of the young monk of Erfurt. The word of grace had been pronounced; he had believed in it. He disclaimed all merit of salvation, and resigned himself confidingly to the grace of God in Jesus Christ. He did not at first perceive the consequences of the principle he had admitted; he was still sincere in his attachment to the Church, and yet he had no further need of her, for he had received salvation immediately from God Himself; henceforth Roman Catholicism was no more for him. He advanced, - he sought in the writings of the apostles and prophets for all that could strengthen the hope which filled his heart. Each day he invoked support from on high, and each day also the light increased in his soul.

Luther's mental health restored that of his body. He soon rose from his bed of sickness, for he had received a new life in a two-fold sense. The festival of Christmas, following soon, gave him an opportunity of tasting abundantly all the consolations of faith. He took part in these holy solemnities with sweet emotion; and when in the ceremonial of the day he had to chant these words, O beata culpa quoe talem meruisti Redemptorem, his whole being responded Amen, and thrilled with joy.

Luther had been two years in the cloister, and was to be ordained priest. He had received much, and saw with delight the prospect afforded by the sacerdotal office of freely distributing what he had freely received. He wished to take advantage of the ceremony that was about to take place to become thoroughly reconciled with his father. He invited him to be present, and even requested him to fix the day. John Luther, who was not yet entirely pacified with regard to his son, nevertheless accepted the invitation, and named Sunday, May 2, 1507.

Among the number of Luther's friends was the vicar of Eisenach, John Braun, who had been a faithful counselor to him during his residence in that city. Luther wrote to him on April 22. This is the oldest letter of the reformer, and it bears the following address: "To John Braun, holy and venerable priest of Christ and of Mary." It is only in Luther's two earliest letters that the name of Mary is found.

"God, who is glorious and holy in all His works," says the candidate for the priesthood, "having most graciously condescended to raise me up - me, a wretched and in all respects unworthy sinner, and to call me by His sole and most free mercy to His sublime ministry; I ought, in order to testify my gratitude for such divine and magnificent goodness (as far at least as mere dust and ashes can do it) to fulfill with my whole heart the duties of the office intrusted to me."

At last the day arrived. The miner of Mansfeldt did not fail to be present at his son's ordination. He gave him indeed no unequivocal mark of his affection and of his generosity by presenting him on the occasion with twenty florins.

The ceremony took place. Hieronymus, bishop of Brandenburg, officiated. At the moment of conferring on Luther the power of celebrating mass, he placed the chalice in his hands, and uttered these solemn words, Accipe potestatem sacrificandi pro vivis et mortuis: "Receive the power of sacrificing for the quick and the dead."

Luther at that time listened calmly to these words, which conferred on him the power of doing the work belonging to the Son of God; but he shuddered at them in after years. "If the earth did not then open and swallow us both up," said he, "it was owing to the great patience and long-suffering of the Lord."

The father afterwards dined at the convent with his son, the young priest's friends, and the monks. The conversation turned to Martin's entrance into the monastery. The brothers loudly extolled it as a most meritorious work, upon which the inflexible John, turning to his son, asked: "Have you not read in Scripture, that you should obey your father and mother?" These words struck Luther; they presented in quite a new aspect the action that had brought him into the convent, and they long re-echoed in his heart.

Shortly after his ordination, Luther, by the advice of Staupitz, made little excursions on foot into the neighboring parishes and convents, either to divert his mind and give his body the necessary exercise, or to accustom him to preaching.

The festival of Corpus Christi was to be celebrated with great pomp at Eisleben. The vicar-general would be present, and Luther repaired there also. He still had need of Staupitz, and sought every opportunity of meeting this enlightened guide who directed his soul into the path of life. The procession was numerous and brilliant. Staupitz himself bore the consecrated host, Luther following in his sacerdotal robes. The thought that it was Jesus Christ Himself whom the vicar-general carried, the idea that the Saviour was there in person before him, suddenly struck Luther's imagination, and filled him with such terror that he could scarcely proceed. The perspiration dropped from his face; he staggered, and thought he should die of anguish and fright. At length the procession was over; the host that had awakened all the fears of the monk was solemnly deposited in the sanctuary; and Luther, finding himself alone with Staupitz, fell into his arms and confessed his dread. Then the good vicar-general, who had long known that gentle Saviour who does not break the bruised reed, said to him mildly: "It was not Jesus Christ, my brother; He does not alarm; He gives consolation only."

Luther was not destined to remain hidden in an obscure convent. The time had come for his removal to a wider stage. Staupitz, with whom he always remained in close communication, saw clearly that the young monk’s disposition was too active to be confined within so narrow a circle. He spoke of him to the Elector Frederick of Saxony, and this enlightened prince invited Luther, probably about the end of the year 1508, to become professor at the University of Wittenberg. On this field he was to fight many hard battles. Luther felt that his true vocation was there. He was asked to go to his new post with all speed and in the hurry of moving he had not time to write to the one whom he styled his master and well-beloved father - John Braun, curate of Eisenach. A few months later he wrote, "My departure was so hasty that those with whom I was living were almost ignorant of it. I am farther away, I confess: but the better part of me remains with you." Luther had spent three years in the cloister at Erfurt.

In the year 1502, Frederick the Elector had founded a new University at Wittenberg. He declared in the charter confirming the privileges of this high school that he and his people would look to it as to an oracle. At that time he had little thought how remarkably this language would be verified. Two men of the opposition that had been formed against the scholastic system - Pollich of Mellerstadt, doctor of medicine, law, and philosophy, and Staupitz - had had great influence in the establishment of this academy. The university declared that it selected St. Augustine for its patron - a choice that was very significant. This new institution, which possessed great liberty and which was considered as a court of final appeal in all cases of difficulty, was admirably fitted to become the cradle of the Reformation, and it powerfully contributed to the development of Luther and of his work.

On his arrival at Wittenberg, he repaired to the Augustine convent, where a cell was allotted to him; for though a professor, he did not cease to be a monk. He had been called to teach physics and dialectics. When he was assigned to this duty, regard had probably been paid to the philosophical studies he had pursued at Erfurt and to the degree of master of arts which he had taken. Thus Luther, who hungered and thirsted after the Word of God, was compelled to devote himself almost exclusively to the study of the Aristotelian scholastic philosophy. He had need of that Bread of Life which God gives to the world, and yet he was forced to occupy himself with human subtleties. What a restraint, and what sighs it called forth!

"By God's grace, I am well," he wrote to Braun, "except that I have to study philosophy with all my might. From the first moment of my arrival at Wittenberg, I was earnestly desirous of exchanging it for that of theology; but," he added, lest it should be supposed he meant the theology of the day, "it is of a theology which seeks the kernel in the nut, the wheat in the husk, the marrow in the bones, that I am speaking. Be that as it may, God is God," he continued with that confidence which was the soul of his life; "man is almost always mistaken in his judgments; but this is our God. He will lead us with goodness for ever and ever." The studies that Luther was then obliged to pursue were of great service to him, in enabling him subsequently to combat the errors of the schoolmen.

But he could not stop there. The desire of his heart was about to be accomplished. That same power, which some years before had driven Luther from the legal profession into a monastic life, was now impelling him from philosophy towards the Bible. He zealously applied himself to the acquisition of the ancient languages, particularly of Greek and Hebrew, in order to draw knowledge and learning from the very springs whence they gushed forth. He was all his life indefatigable in labor. A few months after his arrival at the university, he solicited the degree of bachelor of divinity. He obtained it at the end of March 1509, with the particular summons to devote himself to biblical theology, - ad Biblia.

Every day, at one in the afternoon, Luther was called to lecture on the Bible; it was a precious hour both for the professor and his pupils, and it led them deeper and deeper into the divine meaning of those revelations so long lost to the people and to the schools!

He began his course by explaining the Psalms, and thence passed to the Epistle to the Romans. It was more particularly while meditating on this portion of Scripture that the light of truth penetrated his heart. In the retirement of his quiet cell, he used to consecrate whole hours to the study of the divine Word, this epistle of the apostle Paul lying open before him. On one occasion, having reached the seventeenth verse of the first chapter, he read this passage from the prophet Habakkuk, "The just shall live by faith." This precept struck him. There is then for the just a life different from that of other men: and this life is the gift of faith. This promise, which he received into his heart as if God Himself had placed it there, unveiled to him the mystery of the Christian life and increased this life in him. Years after, in the midst of his numerous occupations, he imagined he still heard these words: "The just shall live by faith."

Luther's prepared lectures had little similarity with what had been heard till then. It was not an eloquent rhetorician or a pedantic schoolman that spoke; but a Christian who had felt the power of revealed truths, one who drew them forth from the Bible, poured them out from the treasures of his heart, and presented them all full of life to his astonished hearers. It was not the teaching of a man, but of God.

This entirely new method of expounding the truth made a great disturbance; the news of it spread far and wide, and attracted to the newly established university a crowd of youthful foreign students. Even many professors attended Luther's lectures, and among others Mellerstadt, frequently styled "the light of the world," first rector of the university, who already at his previous post at Leipzig had earnestly combated the ridiculous instructions of scholasticism, had denied the "the light created on the first day was Theology," and had maintained that the study of literature should be the foundation of that science. "This monk," said he, "will put all the doctors to shame; he will bring in a new doctrine, and reform the whole church; for he builds upon the Word of Christ, and no one in the world can either resist or overthrow that Word, even should he attack it with all the arms of philosophy, of the Sophists, Scotists, Albertists, Thomists, and with all the Tartaretus." * (*favorite works with the scholastic divines in the Middle Ages)

Staupitz, who was the instrument of God to develop the gifts and treasures hidden in Luther, requested him to preach in the church of the Augustines. The young professor shrank from this proposal. He desired to confine himself to his academic duties; he trembled at the thought of increasing them by those of the ministry. In vain did Staupitz solicit him: "No! no!" he replied, "it is no slight thing to speak before men in the place of God." What affecting humility in this great reformer of the Church! Staupitz persisted; but the ingenious Luther, says one of his biographers, found fifteen arguments, pretexts, and evasions to defend himself against this invitation. At length, the chief of the Augustines persevering in his attack, Luther said: "Ah, doctor, by doing this you deprive me of life. I shall not be able to hold out three months." – "Well! so be it in God's name," replied the vicar-general, "for our Lord God has also need on high of devoted and skillful men." Luther was forced to yield.

In the middle of the square at Wittenberg stood an ancient wooden chapel, thirty feet long and twenty feet wide, whose walls propped up on all sides were falling into ruin. An old pulpit made of planks received the preacher. It was in this wretched place that the preaching of the Reformation began. It was God's will that that which was to restore His glory should have the humblest of beginnings. The foundations of the new Augustine Church had just been laid, and meanwhile this miserable place of worship was used. "This building," adds Myconius, one of Luther's contemporaries, who records these circumstances, "may well be compared to the stable in which Christ was born. It was in this wretched enclosure that God willed, so to speak, that His well-beloved Son should be born a second time. Among those thousands of cathedrals and parish churches with which the world is filled, there was not one at that time which God chose for the glorious preaching of eternal life."

Luther preached: everything about the new minister was striking. His expressive countenance, his noble air, his clear and sonorous voice, captivated all his hearers. Before his time, the majority of preachers had sought rather what might amuse their congregation than what would convert them. The great seriousness that pervaded all Luther's sermons, and the joy with which the knowledge of the gospel had filled his heart, imparted to his eloquence an authority, a warmth, and an unction that his predecessors had not possessed. "Endowed with a ready and lively genius," says one of his opponents, "with a good memory, and employing his mother-tongue with wonderful facility, Luther was inferior to none of his contemporaries in eloquence. Speaking from the pulpit as if he were agitated by some violent emotion, suiting the action to his words, he affected his hearers' minds in a surprising manner, and carried them like a torrent wherever he pleased. So much strength, grace, and eloquence are rarely found in these children of the North." "He had," says Bossuet, "a lively and impetuous eloquence that charmed and led away the people."

Soon the little chapel could not hold the hearers who crowded to it. The council of Wittenberg then nominated Luther their chaplain, and invited him to preach in the city church. The impression he there produced was greater still. The energy of his genius, the eloquence of his style, and the excellency of the doctrines that he proclaimed, equally astonished his hearers. His reputation extended far and wide, and Frederick the Wise himself came once to Wittenberg to hear him.

This was the beginning of a new life for Luther. The slow tempo of the cloister had been succeeded by great activity. Freedom, labor, the earnest and constant action to which he could 'now devote himself at Wittenberg, succeeded in re-establishing harmony and peace within him. Now he was in his place, and the work of God was soon to display its majestic progress.

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