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Signs of the Times, Vol. 9, No. 38.

Luther in the Wartburg

Signs of the Times

Oct 11, 1883

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Oct 11, 1883

Luther in the Wartburg.

By Ellen G. White

BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.
On the 26th of April, 1521, Luther departed from Worms. Threatening clouds overhung his path, yet as he passed out of the gate of the city, his heart was filled with joy and praise. "Satan himself," said he, "kept the pope's citadel; but Christ has made a wide breach in it, and the devil has been compelled to confess that Christ is mightier than he."
"The conflict at Worms," writes a friend of the Reformer, "resounded far and near; and as the report of it traversed Europe, from the northern countries to the mountains of Switzerland and the towns of England, France, and Italy, many seized with eagerness the mighty weapons of the word of God."
Luther left the city at ten o'clock, with the friends who had accompanied him to Worms. Twenty gentlemen on horseback surrounded the carriage, and a great crowd attended him beyond the walls.
Upon the journey from Worms, he determined to write once more to the emperor, being unwilling to appear to him as a guilty rebel. "God is my witness, who knoweth the thoughts," said he, "that I am ready with all my heart to obey your majesty through good or evil report, in life or in death, with one exception—save the word of God, by which man liveth. In all the affairs of this life my fidelity shall be unshaken; for these, loss or gain has nothing to do with salvation. But it is contrary to the will of God that man should be subject to man in that which pertains to eternal life. Subjection in spirituals is a real worship, and should be rendered only to the Creator."
He also addressed to the States of the empire a letter of nearly the same purport, recapitulating what had transpired at Worms. This letter made a deep impression upon the minds of the German people. They saw that Luther had been treated with great injustice by the emperor and the higher clergy, and their feelings were strongly aroused against the arrogant assumptions of the papacy.
Had Charles V. understood the real value of such a man as Luther to his empire, a man who would not be bought or sold, who would not sacrifice principle for friends or foes,—he would have cherished and honored instead of denouncing and proscribing him.
Luther journeyed toward home, receiving, as he went, the most flattering attentions from all classes. Dignitaries of the church welcomed the monk upon whom the pope's curse rested, and secular officers honored the man who was under the ban of the empire. He decided to turn aside from the direct route, to visit Mora, his father's birthplace. His friend Amsdorff and a wagoner accompanied him, while the remainder of the party proceeded on their way to Wittenberg. After spending a day with his relatives, enjoying a peaceful rest in marked contrast to the turmoil and strife of Worms, he resumed his journey.
As the carriage was passing a narrow defile, the travelers encountered five horsemen, completely armed and masked. Two of the men seized Amsdorff and the wagoner, while the other three proceeded to secure Luther. In profound silence they forced him to alight, threw a knight's cloak over his shoulders, and placed him upon an extra horse. Then the two in charge of Amsdorff and the wagoner released them, and the five all sprang into their saddles, and disappeared with their prisoner in the thick gloom of the forest.
Through winding and intricate paths they made their way, now advancing and now retracing their steps in such a manner as effectually to elude pursuit. When night fell, they struck into a new road, and swiftly and silently pressed forward, through dark, almost untrodden forests, to the mountains of Thuringia. Here, on a lofty summit, reached only by a steep and difficult ascent, stood the castle of Wartburg. Within the walls of this isolated stronghold, Luther was conducted by his captors, and the heavy gates closed after him, effectually shutting him from the sight and knowledge of the world without.
The Reformer had not fallen into the hands of enemies. A vigilant eye had followed his movements, and as the storm was about to burst upon his defenseless head, a true and noble heart had resolved upon his rescue. It was plain that Rome would be satisfied with nothing short of his death; only by concealment could he be preserved from the jaws of the lion.
Upon Luther's departure from Worms, the papal legate had procured an edict against him, to which was affixed the emperor's signature and the seal of the empire. In this imperial decree Luther was denounced as "Satan himself, under the semblance of a man in a monk's hood." It was commanded that as soon as his safe-conduct should expire, measures be taken to stop his work. All persons were forbidden to harbor him, to give him food or drink, or by word or act, in public or private, to aid or abet him. He was to be seized wherever he might be, and delivered to the authorities. His adherents also were to be imprisoned, and their property confiscated. His writings were ordered to be destroyed, and finally, all who should dare to act contrary to this decree were placed under the ban of the empire.
The emperor had spoken, and the diet had given their sanction to the decree. The whole body of Romanists were jubilant. Now they considered the fate of the Reformation sealed. The superstitious multitude were filled with horror at the thought of Luther as the incarnate Satan whom the emperor had described as clothed in a monk's habit.
In this hour of peril, God prepared a way of escape for his servant. The Holy Spirit moved upon the heart of the Elector of Saxony, and gave him wisdom to devise a plan for Luther's preservation. Frederick had caused it to be intimated to the Reformer while still at Worms, that his liberty might be sacrificed for a time to secure his own safety and that of the Reformation; yet no hint had been given as to the manner in which this might be accomplished. With the co-operation of true friends, the elector's purpose was carried out, and with so much tact and skill that Luther was effectually hidden from friends and foes. In fact, both his seizure and his concealment were so involved in mystery that even Frederick himself for a long time knew not whither he had been conducted. This ignorance was not without design; so long as the elector knew nothing of Luther's whereabouts, he could reveal nothing. He had assured himself that the Reformer was safe, and with this knowledge he was content.
Spring, summer, and autumn passed, and winter came, and Luther still remained a prisoner. Aleander and his partisans rejoiced that the light of the gospel seemed about to be extinguished. But instead of this, Luther was but filling his lamp from the unfailing storehouse of truth, to shine forth in due time with brighter radiance.
It was not merely to secure his own safety that Luther was, in the providence of God, withdrawn from the stage of public life. Infinite Wisdom overruled all circumstances and events for the accomplishment of his deep designs. It is not the will of God that his work should bear the impress of one man. There were other workers who in Luther's absence must be called to the front, to give character to the Reformation, that it might develop proportionately.
Furthermore, in every reformatory movement, there is danger that it will receive the stamp of the human rather than the divine. As men rejoice in the freedom which the truth brings them, they are inclined to exalt those whom God has employed to break the chains of error and superstition. These leaders are honored, extolled, and reverenced, and if they are not truly humble and devoted, unselfish and incorruptible, they gradually lose sight of their continual dependence upon God, and begin to trust in themselves. Soon they seek to control the minds and restrict the consciences of others, seeming to regard themselves as the only channel through which God will communicate light to his church. The work of reform is often retarded because of this spirit indulged by its supporters.
In the friendly security of the Wartburg, Luther for a time gave himself up to repose, and rejoiced in his release from the heat and turmoil of battle. From the castle walls he looked down upon the dark forests that shut him in on every side, then turning his eyes to heaven, he exclaimed, "Strange captivity! a prisoner by consent, yet against my will!" "Pray for me," he writes to Spalatin. "I want nothing save your prayers. Do not disturb me by what is said or thought of me in the world. At last I am quiet."
The solitude and obscurity of this mountain retreat had another and still more precious blessing for the Reformer. Here he was saved from becoming too greatly elated by success. He was removed from every human prop, shut out from the sympathy and praise which are so often unwisely given, and which so often lead to the most deplorable results. It is Satan's studied object to direct men's thoughts and affections from God, and them upon human agencies; to exalt the mere instrument which God employs, and ignore the Hand that directs all the events of providence.
Here is a danger against which all Christians should constantly guard. However much they may admire the noble, self-sacrificing deeds of God's faithful servants, they should remember that God alone is to be exalted. All the wisdom, ability, and grace which men possess, has been given them of God. To him should be all the praise.
Luther could not long find satisfaction in quiet and repose. Accustomed to a life of activity and stern conflict, he could ill endure to remain inactive. In these solitary days, the condition of the church rose up before him, and he felt that there was no man who could stand upon the walls and build up Zion. Again his thoughts returned to himself, and he feared being charged with cowardice in withdrawing from the work. Then he reproached himself for his indolence and self-indulgence. Yet at the same time he was daily accomplishing more than it seemed possible for one man to do. He writes, "I am going through the Bible in Hebrew and Greek. I mean to write a discourse in German touching auricular confession, also to continue the translation of the Psalms, and to compose a collection of sermons as soon as I have received what I want from Wittenberg. My pen is never idle."
While his enemies flattered themselves that he was silenced, they were astonished and confused by tangible proof that he was still active. A host of tracts issuing from his pen, circulated throughout Germany. For nearly a whole year, sheltered from the wrath of all opposers, he exhorted and rebuked the prevailing sins of the time.
He also performed a most important service for his countrymen by translating the original scriptures of the New Testament into the German tongue. Thus the word of God was opened to the understanding of the common people, so that all might read for themselves the words of life and truth. Thus he labored most effectually to turn all eyes from the pope of Rome to Jesus Christ, the Sun of Righteousness.

GRANT US THY PEACE.

Grant us Thy peace throughout the day, Though well or weary, sad or gay; Speak to the soul, bid turmoil cease— Grant us Thy peace!
Grant us Thy peace throughout the night, When lonely thoughts the soul affright; Touch us anew, bid doubting cease— Grant us Thy peace!
Grant us Thy peace in joy supreme, Turn Thy rare light on life's dear dream; Quiet the soul, bid fever cease— Grant us Thy peace!
Grant us Thy peace in heavy loss; Help us to bravely hold the cross; Strengthen the soul, bid sinking cease— Grant us Thy peace!
Grant us Thy peace in dark suspense, When eyes are blind and clouds are dense; Hold fast the soul, bid striving cease— Grant us Thy peace!
Grant us Thy peace when swiftly dart Temptation's arrows to the heart; Cleanse out the soul, bid weakness cease— Grant us Thy peace!
Grant us Thy peace in death's stern hour, When earthly moorings lose their power; Call to the soul, bid terror cease— Grant us Thy peace!

Sanctification.

THE OBSERVATIONS OF FORTY YEARS ON CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE.

JACOB and Theodore Schoonerhoven were brothers, and strikingly alike in some things; among which was quick and strong perception, which gave them a talent for making property; for honest labor makes property, and shrewd perception takes it.
Jacob and Theodore were strikingly unlike in what philosophers call conscientiousness. The face of each projected over the eyes, like the cornice of a house; but whether they were alike in the higher organs of the brain, where conscience is supposed to dwell, I cannot tell.
Theodore, who was two years the elder, often said to his brother, "Come on, Jakey, what if mother did forbid it, she will never know it. It is a little thing, and mother is notional." Thus Jacob, by the greater energy of his brother, was often drawn into mischief, for which he lay sleepless and weeping at night, until his pillow was drenched with tears; and he often slipped from his bed in the earliest morning light to confess faults to his mother of which she had never heard.
These two brothers were educated in the sternest Calvinism. Theodore, who from his peculiar constitution, expected every good thing, and that every advantage belonged to him, was rather pleased with the doctrine of election, having a vague but comforting assurance that he was elected, if anybody was. Jacob, however, who was constitutionally generous and unselfish, felt that if anybody was reprobated, it was most likely to be himself.
When the brothers were sixteen and eighteen, a fatal epidemic prevailed, and many were dying. A general awakening occurred, and religious meetings were held night and day. Theodore was frantic with fear when his confidence in election was shaken by a doctrinal sermon. He screamed aloud in the congregation, and rent the air with cries for mercy, distressed not so much by reflection on particular sins, and on the bearing of such sins on the law and honor to God, and the welfare of men, as by a general idea that he was a sinner, and exposed to hell. The struggle was not long. He was soon rejoicing in an assurance of pardon. Whether he was influenced by constitutional peculiarity or not, it seemed comparatively easy for Theodore to be satisfied that he was pardoned and accepted. Jacob wore a serious countenance, sometimes wept, yet said but little, and attracted little notice. He was, however, pained beyond description by a view of his sins, seen in the light of the divine character and law, as seen in their bearing on human welfare, and, most of all, as seen in the light of the divine goodness. When he received the "oil of joy for mourning," he put on "the garment of praise" with great meekness, and quietly adored God, the beauty of whose attributes, character, will, laws, and government, he beheld with new eyes; he heard the voice of God with new ears, and his melting heart received every divine impression. Every one said, "What a remarkable display of divine power in the conversion of Theodore Schoonerhoven. Jacob is rather thoughtful and may become pious, but Theodore is a perfect Gideon; what a gift in prayer and exhortation, and how he shouts!"
Theodore was foremost everywhere, urged on, flattered, and praised. Everybody knew him. Jacob labored by precept and example to save men, making no display. Few knew him.
Jacob Schoonerhoven was asked to give his views of "sanctification."
The interrogator walked him into the altar, and each seated himself in a chair. It was the interval between services, and they were alone.
"It is forty years," said Mr. S., "since my brother Theodore and myself experienced religion. Soon after our conversion, he professed sanctification, and urged me to seek for it. I considered the subject. Theodore, after being sanctified, was more forward, more confident, but no more disinterested. He was greedy of gain, shrewd in speculation, taking advantage of his keen perception to amass wealth; having his constitutional selfishness still strong, still blinding his judgment, and causing him to think he ought to be favored with all good fortune; men ought to work for him cheap; he ought to receive high wages for public service or mechanical labor; what he sells ought to bring a high price; what he buys ought to be got for little. My brother has never scrupled to buy property at a low price, which he knew was about to rise in value, and to sell at a high price that which was about to fall; he has not scrupled to buy cheap as possible, young animals of great promise, from men who knew not their value, and to shift off young animals of no promise to men who knew not their worthlessness. All this, he said, was according to law, upheld by public sentiment, and agreeable to his conscience. I considered the subject of sanctification in the light of loving God with all my heart, and loving my neighbor as myself—not so much a work of the emotions as of the judgment—a work not of one moment, but of a life-time; agreement, union, and harmony with God; self-lost in humanity; self-lost in God; living for the honor of God and for human welfare, at all times, seven days in the week, three hundred and sixty-five in the year; in all places, at home or abroad; in the sanctuary, at the mill, or at the market; in all business; laboring, buying, or selling.
"I went into the woods and prayed for sanctification, when the Lord said: 'Jacob, dost thou love my will, my law, and my government with all thy heart?' I said, I do, Lord; and the Lord said; 'Dost thou love thy neighbor as thyself?' I answered, I do, Lord. The Lord said: 'Very well, and now, Jacob, prove thy word in thy life.'
"I went to my house in a happy frame, singing hymns. A week after this, I took down a work on military science, and was reading, having a great ambition for martial fame. The Lord said: 'Jacob, remember thy word.' I saw my ambition was self. I dropped the book and never took it up again.
"I had made an arrangement to join a lodge of Masons, was on my way, riding fast, when the Lord said: 'Jacob, remember thy word.' I saw that my desire to be a Mason was self; I turned and rode home. I had coveted two colts which I knew would become horses of great value. They were rough and lean, and the owner, not knowing their value, would sell them low. I was on my way to buy them. The Lord said: 'Jacob, remember thy word.' I saw I was not loving my neighbor as myself. I went on and said: 'Peter, keep your colts; they will make the most valuable horses among all I know. Peter said: 'I did not think them valuable, but I believe you, for you and your brother know more about horses than any men I ever saw; I would give a thousand dollars for your knowledge. But now, Mr. Schoonerhoven, the fact is, I must sell them to save my house and land which are mortgaged. 'I will lend you the money,' I said, 'to save your house; keep your colts.' He did keep them, and finally sold them for five hundred dollars.
"A man came to me to buy some city lots. I was about to take the price which he offered, when the Lord said: 'Jacob, remember thy word.' I said: 'Mr. Broderick, I cannot in conscience sell you those lots; that part of the city must fail in a few years. It did fail, and I turned those lots into a farm.
"Thus my sanctification went on. These lessons were never forgotten; self was banished from my buying and selling; the quick discernment of the value of property, and the foresight of coming changes which the Creator had given me, I no more used for my own increase and wealth. It was evident to me that no man could gain wealth by speculation, and yet love his neighbor as himself. I have instructed hundreds of the honest, industrious poor, and kept them from the gins of speculators. My eye was single; my light increased, and my knowledge of right and wrong, of justice and humanity; my perception became keen to understand what was consistent with loving my neighbor as myself, to understand what it was to do to others as I would be done by.
"One morning I was awakened by the voice of the Lord: 'Jacob, arise, and be sanctified. Remember thy word.' I arose, and, coming from my lodging-room, I met a committee of three, informing me for the part which I took in an anti-slavery meeting, I must recant, or come to trial. I remembered my word, stood my trial, and was excluded. To be separated from the church of my early choice tore my heart. The Lord said: 'Jacob, lovest thou me more than these?' I answered: 'yea, Lord, I love thee more than all.' The cause of temperance long before cost me a similar trial.
"I had from early life set apart all of my income, above the plain support of my family, for charity, and with much prayer sought for the most needy. I had passed a day under the clear impression that a sore trial was coming. At evening, I stopped in my barn, and cried: 'Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.' The Lord said: 'Jacob, art thou ready to be sanctified in the loss of all?' I said: 'Yea, Lord, take all. Thou gavest, and if thou takest away, blessed be thy name.'
"I answered a rap by stepping to the door. Three fugitive slaves, a mother and two daughters, were there. The mother mournfully said: 'Will you send us back?' And the Lord said: 'Jacob, wilt thou obey my laws or the laws of man?' I answered: 'I will obey thy laws, Lord.' 'Come in,' I said. I landed them in Canada. I went to jail, and lost all—house, land, herd, and flock. I have gathered a little by hard work in old age. This little cottage is mine, with a few acres of land. My God is reconciled, my peace is like a river, and my treasure in Heaven."
"I believe, Bro. Schoonerhoven, that you do not profess sanctification. I never heard you speak of it.' 'I never speak of it,' said Jacob; 'the word has become a term of reproach. Selfish, willful, proud men make high professions of sanctification. My brother Theodore is often referred to as a model sanctified man. He has amassed a fortune of a hundred thousand dollars by speculation, has always sought popular favor and civil office; has ever remained pro-slavery, opposed to the Maine Law, and has gone with the most profane and debauched political party. The judge, by whose decision I was stripped of all my possessions, professed sanctification. I deem it my duty to make no noisy profession. We should, however, be sanctified every day, in all our volitions, motives, purposes, and designs; in our affections, in our temper and spirit, and in all of our business transactions. All other sanctification is mere emotion, excitement, and enthusiasm, and is consistent with selfishness, cruel oppression, and grinding the faces of the poor."—Wes. Meth. Magazine.

Great and Good Men

By Barnas Sears

Among the best gifts of Providence to a nation are great and good men, who act as leaders and guides; who leave their mark upon their age; who give new direction to affairs; who introduce a course of events which goes down from generation to generation, pouring their blessing on mankind.—Barnas Sears.

Service Above Wealth

In this money-getting age, it is well to honor men who have cared more for work which would benefit their fellows, than for money which accrued to themselves.

Postal-Card Jottings.—No. 3.

By H. Veysey

Jehovah-nissi, or, the Lord is my banner. So said Moses (Ex. 17 : 15) when he had conquered the Amalekites by the power of continued, intercessory prayer. Amalek was the first foe to Israel after crossing the Red Sea—after proving redemption by the blood of the Lamb. Amalek represents the flesh, in which there is no good thing (Rom. 7 : 18.), notwithstanding Saul's false judgment, and, therefore, godless action concerning Agag, with his delicateness, “the best” and “all that was good.” 1 Sam. 15 : 3, 9, 32. Amalek could not be subdued by steel against steel. So, strivings in the flesh cannot subdue our sins. Jehovah-nissi can alone be our strength and power, even the name Jesus, who has conquered death and hell, sin and Satan, the world and the flesh, who himself took part of flesh and blood that through death, not by struggling, he might destroy him that had the power of death, i. e., the devil. Heb. 2 : 14. Blessed truth! Precious power! Why should we “try” and “determine,” strive and struggle, when our victory will be secured only by dying (Rom. 5 : 11) and letting Jehovah-nissi gain the victory in us and through us?
“Is there nothing, then, for us to do?” Aye, indeed, we believe, and pray, wait, and lean on our Banner. Let our Jehovah-nissi work for us and in us. “Some trust in chariots, and some in horses; but we will remember the name of the Lord our God.” Ps. 20 : 2. “His banner over us is love.” Song of songs 2 : 4. Let us “rejoice in his salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners.” Ps. 20 : 5. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him—our Jehovah-jireh, Jehovah-rophi, Jehovah-nissi. H. Veysey.
Battle Creek, Mich.

The Love of the Truth.

By EPSILON.

In 2 Thess. 2d chapter, Paul speaks a prophecy. He speaks of the tendency to apostasy already at work, even in the days of the apostles. The apostasy would grow strong, and exalt itself, and become dictator as God himself. Paul here uses the present time. The influence of the great apostasy will extend to the coming of the Lord. The false prophet says the world will be converted. But true prophecy says that the apostasy will be destroyed only by the brightness of the Lord's coming. Why will not the Protestant leaders acknowledge the great influence of the past that has molded their minds? Why will they not see the truth? Have we not made it plain enough? O the truth has been proven and reproven to them; but they will not receive it. "The light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not."
Why did not those who burned at the stake, and tortured to death in many ways, those that did receive the love of the truth, see their own darkness? Was it God's fault, or was it their own fault? Was the Bible, that they tried to hide from the people, not plain enough for them? Is not the Revelation a looking-glass in which they might have seen themselves? Does not prophecy point them out? Again I ask, Why do not Protestant leaders see the great influence of the past age that has molded their minds, and tear themselves away from tradition, and receive that light that shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not? The Bible must answer: "With all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish; because they receive not the love of the truth, that they might be saved." 2 Thess. 2: 10. It is reasonable that many who were put to death really knew but little of the truth, but they received the love of the truth. Some in the Protestant churches will be saved, not because they know much truth, but because they receive the love of the truth. Says one who stands in darkness, "I love the truth, and, according to your own words, I will be saved." God will prove you, my friend, whether you really love the truth, or merely profess to love. You will not deceive him. Study your Bible, and you will see by the face of the angel in Rev. 10: 1 that God will try you with a light like that of the sun. EPSILON.

Money.

By W. N. Glenn

THERE is not a word in the English language that will so readily attract the attention of mankind in general as the word money. There is nothing about which men are so sensitive as in regard to money. There is nothing for which they will risk so much, or undergo so much hardship and privation as for money. There is nothing in which mankind in general feel so self-confident and inherently wise as in the use of money; yet there is no one way in which so many mistakes are made. People will ask and take advice regarding almost every phase of life, and admit a lack of ability or a want of experience; but when it comes to the expenditure of money, they suddenly become infallible. This is the one point concerning which no second-hand opinion is wanted.
Money has more to do with the affairs of this life than any other element or commodity. It has more to do with the formation of human character than anything else in existence. The use of money is a good test of the moral constitution of any man or woman; hence it becomes a close test of one's relation to his Creator, and to his Saviour. I once knew a prominent church member—a class leader and Sunday-school superintendent—who, when taken to task about a questionable financial transaction, in which he had forfeited his public pledge to a municipality, coolly replied, "That's business." The inference was that the matter in question did not concern the church—it was purely a business affair. But it was a standing reproach to the church as long as he occupied a leading position in it.
The Scriptures tell us that "the love of money is the root of all evil." But the professed believer in the Scriptures is as intent upon getting money as though no such declaration had been made. The Saviour said, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven." Yet, in the face of this startling assertion of him upon whom all chance for admittance to that kingdom depends, the candidates for that honor cease not to lust after riches—the "mammon of unrighteousness." Notwithstanding this plain warning of the Judge who shall pass upon our qualifications for citizenship in that kingdom, those who "seek to enter" manifest no fear whatever to take to themselves this dangerous obstacle. Why is it that there is no fear in striving for the very thing our Lord has so solemnly cautioned us against? Is it unbelief of his word, or is it a vain imagination that I will be an exception to the rule—if I had money I would do so much for the cause of the Lord.
What one does with a small amount of money is a fair indication of what he would do with a large amount. An increase of property does not change a man's heart, but it develops his real character. Whether he be selfish or self-sacrificing when poor, his propensity will probably increase if permitted to become rich. There is a deception in this connection which it would be well to beware of: Many flatter themselves that they would like to be rich so they could sacrifice for the cause of truth, when in reality the desire is to be able to give a noticeable amount without feeling it. There is very little ambition to give "two mites" and feel it. W. N. GLENN.

My Conversion from Romanism.

By Stephen Dekins

To the Signs of the Times: It is now four years since I renounced Romanism in Clarendon Hall, New York, and accepted the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ; before a vast congregation composed of Protestants and Catholics. What a change I then experienced when I contrasted the errors, darkness, and superstitions of the past. It was then I felt free indeed. Upon my conversion from Romanism I became convinced that there was no nobler or grander work than laboring in the vineyard of the Master, and doing what I could, through the assistance of the Lord Jesus Christ, towards the emancipation of those who are, as I formerly had been, fettered in a far worse slavery than that of the Israelites in the land of Egypt. I therefore entered the Reformed Catholic Church, and was called upon to labor in the beautiful city of Newark, N. J., with its 160,000 inhabitants, sitting like a queen above the blue waters of Newark Bay.
Commencing with about forty persons, who listened to me preaching a pure gospel, presenting salvation by faith alone in Jesus Christ, without any of the mummeries of the Roman Church, attention was enlisted. Hopefully converted congregations increased, till Union Hall, on Market street, was overflowing, and multitudes were turned away for want of room. Then Library Hall was secured, one of the finest structures of the kind in the city, and here I am still, encouraged by evident tokens of divine favor to go forward in my endeavor to bring the benighted votaries of Rome, now under the incubus of blind superstitions, into the light and liberty of gospel truth. I am under grateful obligations to the Newark Presbytery of the Presbyterian Church for their hearty indorsement of my work. But I am oppressed by financial embarrassments, after all the kindness shown me by individuals of all denominations. As a large number of those who attend our services are Roman Catholics, it is not expected that they will contribute towards the support of a church which is an avowed enemy of the erroneous doctrines of their own; therefore, the collections are small. The work is prosperous, and God is blessing us. The greatest difficulty we have to contend with is the want of finances. However, we leave that to God, who will not allow us to succumb for want of money.
Christian readers, we ask your prayers in behalf of this work, that God may bless it in the future as he has in the past; that he may bless and make the pastor instrumental in bringing many more from darkness and slavery into the light and glorious liberty of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The people are coming; may their numbers increase. To-day, dear Times, I am your brother, and I thank God for your sentiments, and beg your many readers to regard me as their brother in the Lord Jesus Christ.
Stephen Dekins, Pastor of St. Paul's Reformed Catholic Church, Newark, N. J.

Doctrinal Religion.

Canon Ryle has said: "If you want to do good in these times, you must throw aside indecision, and take up a distinct, sharply-cut, doctrinal religion. If you believe a little, those to whom you try to do good will believe nothing. The victories of Christianity, wherever they have been won, have been won by distinct doctrinal theology, by telling men roundly of Christ's vicarious death and sacrifice; by showing them Christ's substitution on the cross and his precious blood; by teaching them justification by faith, and bidding them believe in a crucified Saviour; by preaching ruin by sin, redemption by Christ, regeneration by the Spirit; by lifting up the brazen serpent; by telling men to look and live, to believe, repent, and be converted."
This is the only teaching which for eighteen centuries God has honored with success, and is honoring at the present day, both at home and abroad. Let the clever advocates of broad and undogmatic theology—the preachers of the gospel of earnestness and sincerity and morality—let them, I say, show us at this day any English village, or parish, or city, or town, or district, which has been evangelized without "dogma" by their principles. They cannot do it, and they never will. Christianity without a distinct doctrine is a powerless thing. It may be beautiful to some minds, but it is childless and barren.
There is no getting over facts. The good that is done in earth may be comparatively small. Evil may abound, and ignorant impatience may murmur and cry that Christianity has failed. But, depend upon it, if we want to "do good" and shake the world, we must fight with the old apostolic weapons, and stick to "dogma." No dogma, no fruits! No positive evangelical doctrine, no evangelization!—Selected.

Settle Disputes with Prayer.

By Charles Haddon Spurgeon

Two neighbors, a cooper and a farmer, were spending the evening together. Both were professors of religion, but of different communions. Their conversation was first upon topics relating to practical religion; but after a time it diverged to the point of difference between the two denominations to which they belonged. It first became a discussion, then a dispute. The cooper was the first to perceive its unprofitable and injurious tendency, and remarked, "We are springing apart from each other; let us put on another hoop—let us pray." They knelt down and prayed together, after which they spent the remainder of the evening lovingly together, conversing on the things of the kingdom in which they both felt an equal interest. The suggestion of the cooper was an excellent one.—Spurgeon.
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