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           Title: Three Friends of God: Records from the Lives of John Tauler,
                  Nicholas of Basle, Henry Suso
      Creator(s): Bevan, Frances
     Print Basis: James Nisbet & Co., Limited, 1887
          Rights: Public Domain
   CCEL Subjects: All
      LC Call no: All; Christian Life; Proofed
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   THREE FRIENDS OF GOD

   RECORDS FROM THE LIVES

   OF

   JOHN TAULER, NICHOLAS OF BASLE, HENRY SUSO

   BY

   FRANCES BEVAN,

   AUTHOR OF

   "TREES PLANTED BY THE RIVER," "HYMNS OF TER STEEGEN,"

   ETC.

   SIXTH EDITION

   London

   JAMES NISBET & CO., LIMITED,

   21 BERNERS STREET
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PREFACE

   THE short account given in the following pages of three of the "Friends
   of God" of the fourteenth century is but a small fragment of a history
   which would form in itself a voluminous library, the History of the
   "Brethren" of the Middle Ages, known to us under many names, but in
   England chiefly as the Lollards or Boni Homines. Any account of these
   widely scattered and persecuted Christians must necessarily be a very
   imperfect one, as their history is told us chiefly by enemies, who were
   both ignorant of their true principles, and eager to malign them. And
   when, as in the histories that follow, they were themselves the
   narrators, we find that their writings were altered and enlarged by
   copyists who had an interest in doing so, or who imagined they rendered
   them more edifying by additions of their own. It is therefore necessary
   to remark that, though historical accuracy has been faithfully aimed at
   in the following stories, and though no addition whatever has been made
   by the writer to the original accounts, and though, further, the actual
   words of the "Friends of God" have been employed in making extracts
   from their writings, the history may yet be open to correction from
   further researches which are now being made by painstaking historians.
   The authors who have been followed in the account now given are,
   besides the three "Friends of God" themselves, Dr. Carl Schmidt, whose
   histories of Tauler, and of Nicholas of Basle, are the result of great
   labour and research; and Dr. Ludwig Keller, whose book, most
   interesting for German readers, "The Reformation, and the Older
   Reforming Bodies, described in their connection with one another," will
   well repay a careful study." A few words from his preface may not be
   out of place on the present occasion.

   "The bodies thus connected were, as the following pages will show,
   those communities of Brethren' which under various names are well known
   as existing during many centuries, but whose true history lies hidden
   under the veil which the orthodox Churches, for good reason, spread
   over the fate of these persecuted Christians, who were called by them
   heretics, or sectaries,' and against whom they waged war by fire and
   sword.

   "The history of these communities of Brethren,' who called themselves
   simply Christians,' reminds us, in a remarkable manner, in the mode by
   which they are described, and in the course of their destiny, of the
   incidents of the earliest Christian centuries. For it was just those
   Christians,' who were represented by the chief authors of antiquity as
   the offscouring of all things,' who were hated and persecuted as
   sectaries by the Jewish and heathen priesthood -- we may recall that
   Paul himself was brought to trial as a leader of the sect of the
   Nazarenes' -- it was just those despised men who were the beginning of
   a new era for the heathen and the Jewish world.

   "In accordance with the prediction of Christ, If they have persecuted
   Me, they will also persecute you,' the true Christians' have in all
   ages been persecuted as being a sect, or sectaries; have been
   calumniated and hated. But according to the further prediction of the
   Redeemer, they have arisen as it were from the ashes, and the hatred of
   the world has been of no avail."

   Thus, though an exterminating war was carried on against these earlier
   Reformers, we find that two centuries after the events related in the
   stories that follow, the hidden stream of life burst forth afresh into
   the daylight, and Martin Luther rejoiced to reprint and circulate the
   writings of the "Friends of God."

   It is right to observe that there are some historians who are not fully
   satisfied that the great preacher converted by means of the "Friend of
   God from the Oberland" was really Dr. Tauler.

   Others, again, deny the identity of the "Friend of God from the
   Oberland" with Nicholas of Basle.

   But having examined these various theories, that of Dr. Carl Schmidt,
   who has devoted many years to careful investigation of these questions,
   appears to be conclusive. He admits, however, an uncertainty as to the
   date of the conversion of Dr. Tauler, as it is given variously in
   manuscripts and in the first printed accounts.

   The history of Henry Suso is not that of a man recognised as belonging
   to the communities of "Brethren." But it was to them that he belonged
   in heart, far more than in external observances, and was recognised as
   a "Friend of God," by those who used the term (as it was mostly used)
   to express a true relation with God as to spiritual life, whether
   within or without the outward pale of the Roman Church.

   Thus do "Friends of God," who stood in immediate connection with
   Waldensian "Brethren," speak of him, and he was probably far more free
   from Roman superstitions than the writer of his life, who seems to have
   coloured him according to her own thoughts of Catholic orthodoxy. His
   own words are the best and surest indication of his right to be classed
   with the sect of all sects, "that which is everywhere spoken against."
   If any, who read the history of the labours and persecutions of the
   three "Friends," still groping more or less in the ignorance and
   darkness of Popish superstition, should thereby be stirred up to truer
   devotedness to Him who has in His grace granted us fuller light and
   knowledge, the prayers of the writer will be answered.

   And may we learn, in reading of the patience, the tenderness, and the
   love, with which the Lord welcomed and taught His ignorant children,
   with which He bore their ways of willfulness and superstition, and led
   them on to fuller knowledge of Himself, to bear with the ignorance and
   the folly of His people now. Indifference to error, and patience with
   ignorance, are two different things. We cannot force light into the
   soul, but we are not therefore to be satisfied to see the people of God
   wandering from His way by evil teaching. And let us look to ourselves
   lest we too should be yet in ignorance less excusable than that of the
   "Friends of God."

   In conclusion, it will be well if these histories lead us to realise,
   as never before, the Presence on the earth, of Him who was sent down to
   "teach all things" to believing souls. The living personal intercourse
   of the Holy Ghost with these sheep of God, who were otherwise without a
   Shepherd, is almost startling to us in these days when we are apt to
   look to human teachers, and human books. It should not surprise us that
   the Lord condescended to teach them from time to time by dreams, or by
   vivid pictures presented to the mind, which they regarded as visions.
   Such modes of teaching are not uncommon in our days amongst the
   ignorant and illiterate, and the Lord has used them apparently more or
   less in all ages. But it would be well if all of us knew more of that
   simple and direct communication with God, which Nicholas of Basle and
   Henry Suso attempted to explain in words, but which none who have known
   it can really or adequately express.

   Whilst men are ready to believe in spiritualism or in any delusions of
   the evil one, or of the mind of man, they are utterly blind to the fact
   that the real, true, and supernatural intercourse with God is the
   privilege and experience of all those who have believed in Jesus. We
   who believe may well humble ourselves that we know so little of it, but
   that it is the standing fulfillment of the great promises of John xiv,
   xv, and xvi we know well, unless indeed we are so wanting in the faith
   which appropriates those glorious promises, that we have yet to learn
   what it is to hear the voice of God. In order to give a true and vivid
   account of the simple, childlike communication with God, granted to
   these saints of old, care has been taken to keep as closely as possible
   to their actual words and expressions, even when such expressions
   betray the ignorance which marks mediaeval Christianity. We may some
   day know better than we now know, how much ignorance marks the
   Christianity of the nineteenth century. Yet we cannot deny that God in
   His grace has given us light through the free circulation of His Word,
   which the believers of the Middle ages never had. The difficulty of
   rendering mediaeval German in modern English makes it impossible to
   give the full force of many passages, and in such cases the sense,
   rather than the actual words, has been aimed at in the translation. The
   extracts, therefore, either from Dr. Tauler's sermons, or from his
   history of his conversion, or from the autobiographies of Nicholas of
   Basle, and of Suso, are given as literally as possible, with the desire
   to convey the actual words, or if that should be impossible on account
   of the want of English equivalents, the actual sense of every passage.
   A short, but interesting, life of Suso may be found in Ullman's
   "Reformers before the Reformation," taken from Diepenbrock's "Life of
   Suso," which is a reproduction of the old German biography by Elizabeth
   Staglin.

   It should further be borne in mind that the following pages aim rather
   at recording the light and teaching vouchsafed by the Lord to His
   servants, than furnishing a complete biography of either of them, which
   would necessarily comprise much which to modern readers would be of
   little profit, though doubtless of historical interest to some. Much
   more might be recorded, as matter of history, but the present account
   is rather that of their intercourse with God, than of their place in
   mediaeval history, which would include a great variety of details,
   entirely apart from the purpose of the present record.
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CHAPTER I

THE SERMON OF DR. TAULER

   IT came to pass in the year 1340, or thereabouts, that the streets of
   the city of Strasburg were crowded with men, women, and children, who
   were all going in the direction of the great church.

   There were knights and nobles and ladies from the castles around, and
   citizens and their wives, and monks and priests. And there were the
   Beguine "sisters" and the Beghard "brothers," who nursed the sick, and
   took care of homeless and infirm people, and orphans, and neglected
   children.

   And there were, most of all, working men and peasants, and poor people
   from the dark narrow streets of the city.

   And there were foreigners from other countries, for many people came
   from distant lands, to hear the great preacher of Strasburg.

   He was a learned and eloquent man, and he had a loving and tender
   heart, and he spoke from his heart, not from his head only. He had been
   preaching at Strasburg for ten or twelve years back, or longer still,
   for he was now, in 1340, fifty years old, and his name was well known
   far and near.

   The people of Strasburg valued their great preacher all the more,
   because sixteen years before nearly all their priests and preachers had
   left the city, and the great cathedral and the churches were shut up,
   except when a few priests who remained in tile city, or who came there
   from other places, had an occasional service. And even this was
   forbidden.

   By whom? It was by the man who called himself the Vicar of Christ on
   earth, and whose commands were therefore to be obeyed as if the voice
   of God Himself had spoken.

   It came to pass thus. In the year 1314, two German princes, Frederick
   of Austria and Lewis of Bavaria, were elected at the same time as
   Emperors of Rome. Each one had a strong party on his side, and the Pope
   had taken part with Frederick. The Pope had good reasons for so doing.
   Twelve years earlier it had been declared in the famous Bull of
   Boniface VIII, called Unam Sanctam, that it was a necessary condition
   of the salvation of every human being, that he should own himself a
   subject of the Pope of Rome. Boniface had already, two years before,
   appeared at the great Jubilee, dressed on alternate days as Pope and
   Emperor. From this time it became a distinctly avowed article of faith,
   "that there is no power ordained of God but that of the Pope, all other
   power only exists as subservient to his power, and in so far as he
   deputes his authority to such power." The Emperor Lewis had no thought
   of acknowledging such an article of faith. There were not wanting
   thousands in Germany who rose in opposition to this marvelous addition
   to the Word of God. At the head of this opposition stood the brave and
   God-fearing Emperor, of whom we have the testimony of eleven German
   cities, that "he was a man doing justice, and striving after
   righteousness: of all the princes of the world, it is he who lives most
   conformably to the teachings of Christ; and in faith, as well as in
   modesty and in moderation, he shines as an example to others." In the
   year 1324 a Bull of Pope John XXII declared Lewis a protector and
   furtherer of heretics, especially of "heretics of Lombardy." In 1327 a
   Bull of the same Pope declared him to be himself a heretic, and
   summoned him to appear at Avignon to receive his sentence. The Emperor
   took no notice of this summons. The following year the Rector of the
   University of Paris, Marsilius of Padua, was excommunicated as the
   author of manifold heresies. He betook himself to the court of the
   Emperor Lewis, and presented to him the book he had written, which had
   brought down upon him the ban of the Pope. "What in the world," said
   the Emperor, "has induced you to leave the peaceable land of France,
   and come here, where we are all at war with one another?" Marsilius
   replied, that love to the Church of Christ had brought him to Germany.
   "For the Church of the Pope," he said, "is full of vain pretensions. I
   am prepared to defend the truth, as I have learnt it, against all who
   oppose it, and if needful, to lay down my life for it." What were the
   heresies of Marsilius? We find that those contained in his book are
   precisely the same as those of which the Waldenses in his day, and
   Wyclif in later days, were accused by Rome. "The Church," he said, "is
   a word commonly used to mean bishops, priests, and deacons." (Just as
   even now, in Protestant England, we may be told that a young man has
   gone into the Church, by which is meant that he has become a
   clergyman.) "This use of the word," said Marsilius, "is entirely in
   opposition to the meaning attached to it by the apostles. For they have
   taught us that the Church is the Assembly, that is to say, the entire
   body of those who believe in Christ. In this sense does Paul use the
   word, when he writes to the Church' -- that is, the Assembly -- at
   Corinth.'" He explained also, that it is God alone, not the priest, who
   can forgive sins. "He alone can forgive sins who died for our sins. The
   only sense in which the priest can give absolution, is the sense in
   which the gaoler unlocks the prison door; he has no authority to let
   out the prisoner; but when the judge declares him free, the gaoler may
   let him out. And God alone looks at the heart, not the priest. An
   impenitent man may receive absolution, but that does not give him
   remission of sins, and the penitent man who confesses his sin to God is
   absolved, whether the priest consents to it or not. For it is written
   that there is One only who is able to save and to destroy." More might
   be related, did space permit, of the teaching of Marsilius. For the
   present history it is only needful to say further, that the Emperor
   Lewis gave him a warm welcome, appointed him his physician, and
   esteemed him greatly. Six years later he was required by the Cardinals
   of John XXII to dismiss Marsilius, as a condition of peace with Rome.
   But Lewis refused. Later on Benedict XII required it also. But Lewis
   never yielded. Marsilius died in his service in the year 1342. It is
   therefore not to be wondered at, that of the two rival princes, the
   Pope should have preferred Frederick, and should have been the bitter
   enemy of Lewis.

   For long years the war lasted which was to decide the fate of the
   Empire. When at last it became evident that Lewis was gaining the day,
   and that

   most of the German towns owned him as Emperor, the Pope, John XXII,
   laid the Empire under an interdict. He also excommunicated the Emperor
   Lewis. "May the Almighty God cast Lewis down, and give him into the
   hands of his enemies and pursuers! May he fall into an unforeseen
   snare! Cursed be his going out and his coming in! May the Lord smite
   him with folly and blindness! May the lightning of Heaven blast him!
   May the wrath of God, and of the blessed apostles Peter and Paul, burn
   against him like fire, in this world, and in the world to come! May the
   whole earth arm itself against him! May the deep open and swallow him
   up alive! May his name be clean forgotten, and his memory perish from
   among men! May all the elements oppose him! May his house be left
   desolate, may his children be driven from their dwellings, and slain by
   his enemies before the eyes of their father!"

   Thus sounded from Rome the voice of the shepherd of the flock! The
   Emperor Lewis allowed the Pope to curse, and took no notice of it,
   except by commanding the clergy in the German Empire to continue their
   services, and to turn a deaf ear to the Pope. The interdict forbade all
   services and all preaching.

   It can easily be imagined what awe and terror took possession of the
   many thousands who looked upon the sacraments as the doors of Heaven,
   and who depended upon the priests for the forgiveness of their sins.
   When the people of Strasburg saw their priests leave the town, and saw
   the church doors shut, there were many amongst them who felt as though
   they were forsaken of God, and delivered over to the devil and his
   angels.

   But the great preacher, Dr. John Tauler, did not share their fears. He
   stayed behind, and he taught and preached, and cheered and comforted
   the poor people, who would otherwise have felt themselves like sheep
   without a shepherd. So the people not only admired his sermons, but
   they loved him greatly, and whenever he preached, they went in crowds
   to listen, and they felt proud of their city, because their preacher
   was talked of in France, and Switzerland and Italy, as well as in the
   German towns far and near.

   The preacher was a meek and modest man, but it was hard for him not to
   feel that he was wiser and, it may be, holier, than other men. For he
   who flatters his neighbour spreads a net for his feet, and Dr. John
   Tauler had heard many flattering speeches, and had perhaps come to
   believe that some of them were true.

   On this day which I have mentioned, in the year 1340, Dr. Tauler
   watched the crowds who came into the great church, and his heart
   yearned over them, and he preached, as was his wont, earnestly and
   solemnly. And the people listened to him as though he were an angel
   from Heaven.

   Amongst them there sat a stranger who came from a city thirty leagues
   distant, but whose home was still farther away, amongst the great Alps
   with snowy peaks, and wild glaciers, in the Bernese Oberland.

   The stranger was a grave and yet a simple-looking man, and he kept his
   eyes fixed upon Dr. Tauler as though he loved to look at him. And he
   thought as he looked at him, "The Master is a very loving, gentle,
   good-hearted man by nature. He has also a good understanding of the
   Holy Scripture. But he is dark as to the light of grace, for he has
   never known it."

   Then the man's heart yearned over Dr. Tauler, for he had been warned of
   God three times in a dream, when he was in Switzerland, that he should
   go and hear him. And he knew that it was God who had shown him how dark
   was the Master's heart.

   So when he had heard him preach five times, he went to him and said,
   "Dear and honoured sir, I have travelled a good thirty leagues on your
   account, to hear your teaching. Now I have heard you preach five times,
   and I pray you to let me make my confession to you."

   The Master answered, "With all my heart." Then the man confessed to the
   Master, and continued to come to him and confess to him for twelve
   weeks. And all this time he went to hear the Master's sermons. But he
   did not say the thing that was upon his heart, for the time was not yet
   come.

   At last he went to him and said, "Dear sir, I beg you for God's sake to
   preach us a sermon, showing us how a man may attain to the highest
   point it is given us to reach whilst we live in this world."

   But the Master answered, "Ah, dear son, what dost thou ask for? How
   shall I tell thee of such high things? for well I know thou wouldst
   understand but little thereof."

   Then the men said, "Ah, dear Master, even though I should understand
   little or nothing thereof, yet I cannot but thirst after it. And see
   what multitudes flock to hear you. If there were only one among them
   all who could understand you, your labour were well bestowed."

   Then said the Master, "Dear son, if I am to do as thou sayest, I must
   needs give some study and labour to the matter, before I can put such a
   sermon together."

   But the man would not cease from his prayers and entreaties till the
   Master promised him that he should have his desire.
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CHAPTER II

ANOTHER SERMON OF DR. TAULER

   AT last the Master had prepared his sermon, which cost him much time
   and much toil. Then he announced to the people that in three days they
   should come to the church to hear him preach. For, he said, he had been
   requested to teach how a man could attain to the highest point, to the
   greatest nearness to God, and to the best condition, during this life
   on earth.

   When the day was come, much people came to the church, and the man from
   Switzerland, whose name was Nicholas, sat down in a place where he
   could hear well. And the Master went up into his pulpit, and began his
   discourse.

   The Master spoke first about people who attain to a clear knowledge and
   reasonable judgment about things, but who do so by the help of images
   and forms, or by studying the opinions of other men. But by these
   means, he said, they will never attain to the highest good. Some men
   also, he said, trust to their own reason or imagination. They, too, not
   only do not attain to the knowledge of God, but they hinder God from
   working in their souls. But if a man would only die to himself, and
   humbly toil and press forward, God would find a resting-place in his
   soul, and would work in him, and draw him to Himself.

   "But such people," said the Master, "are rare, for they must have a
   boundless humility, an unclouded understanding, and a clear reason. And
   such people may be known by twenty-four marks.

     1. They have love.

     2. They are emptied of themselves.

     3. They are utterly resigned to God.

     4. They do not seek themselves.

     5. By not seeking their own ends, they attain to true contentment.

     6. They wait on God to know what He would have them do, and they try
     their uttermost to fulfil His will.

     7. They daily give up their will to the will of God.

     8. All their powers are brought into subjection to God.

     9. They always have the sense of the presence of God, in all things,
     both sweet or bitter.

     10. They receive all pleasure and all pain, not from the creatures
     of God, but from God Himself.

     11. They are not led captive by lusting after created things.

     12. They are never moved from the truth by contradiction or mishap.

     13. They are not deceived by false appearances, but own things to be
     what they really are, and this in a spirit of kindness and love.

     14. They are armed with all virtue, ready to fight against all sin
     and vice, and obtain the victory and prize in all conflicts.

     15. They mark what God requires of them, order their life
     accordingly, and act up to their profession.

     16. They are people of few words, but much inward life.

     17. They are blameless and righteous, but not puffed up by the same.

     18. They are upright and sincere, and preach more with their actions
     than with their lips.

     19. They have no other aim than the glory of God.

     20. They are willing to take reproof, and to give up their rights.

     21. They do not desire their own advantage, and think the least
     thing too good for them.

     22. They consider themselves less wise and less worthy than other
     men, and are thoroughly humble.

     23. They copy the example of the Lord Jesus in all things, and put
     away from them everything unbecoming those who follow Him.

     24. And lastly, if they are despised by many, this will be more
     welcome to them than all the favour of the world.

   The Master's sermon was ended. Some of his hearers perhaps remarked, on
   their way home, that they had heard a good, practical sermon. For we
   like by nature to be told to do this, or not to do that, in order to
   make ourselves pleasing to God. It does not follow that we betake
   ourselves diligently to doing the thing we have been directed to do,
   nor do we refrain from all that is evil, because we are warned against
   it. It is a singular thing that the people who most commonly need to be
   told that they cannot be saved by their good works, are the people who
   trouble themselves the least about doing them. A man who is in earnest,
   and who really, and honestly sets to work to gain for himself eternal
   life is far more likely to be awakened from his delusion. Just as if a
   man were bent upon flying with a pair of wings of his own construction,
   he would speedily be convinced of his delusion by making a trial of his
   wings. But the people who go on in a contented way in the course of
   this world, and seldom have a thought beyond that of pleasing
   themselves, will generally be found at last resting upon the reflection
   that they have done or felt something which will recommend them to God.
   They have at some time or other given money for which they were
   entreated for a charitable purpose, or they have gone to church, or
   they are communicants, or, what is there not upon which their hopes may
   be founded! "My family was always a respectable one, and I have a
   nephew who is a clergyman," said one poor sinner at the point of death,
   when the solemn question was put to him, "Are you saved?" "You take
   such pains to prove," said some one, "that people can never be saved by
   their works. But I don't find the people that are trying to do these
   good works. There is much more danger of their doing nothing but please
   themselves." This is so far true. But the person who said it had never
   remarked that it is just those people who never trouble themselves
   about working, who are most confident that they have something of their
   own which God will own at last. And even if they can recall nothing but
   sin and folly, they will fall back at the last moment upon their
   repentance and their prayers.

   The Master had described the imaginary figs, which he still believed
   might be made to grow upon thistles. And this was all he could do. He
   had once mentioned the Lord Jesus. But it was not to tell of His
   precious blood, and His love to the ungodly and to sinners, the only
   way by which a man could be brought near to God, and walk with Him
   here, and dwell with Him hereafter. He had but held up the Lord Jesus
   as an example to men and women, dead in trespasses and sins. He might
   as well have shown a beautiful picture to a dead man in his coffin. He
   did not understand that life must come first, and that work will
   follow. But the Master had done his best. And it may be he was as well
   satisfied with his sermon as the most devoted of his admirers.

   Nicholas said nothing, but he went to his lodging and wrote the sermon
   all down, word for word, exactly as the Master had spoken it. And when
   he had finished, he went to the Master, and said, "I have written out
   your sermon, and if it be not troublesome, I should like to read it to
   you."

   The Master replied, "I shall be glad to hear it." Thereupon the man
   read the sermon all through and then said to the Master, "Dear sir,
   pray tell me if there be a word wanting, that if so I may set it down."

   Hereupon the Master was greatly astonished and flattered, and said
   "Dear son, thou hast written down every word and phrase just as it came
   out of my mouth. I tell thee if any one would give me much money for
   it, I could not write it down as exactly as thou hast done."

   And the Master said also he was much astonished to think that he had
   never found out before how full of wit was so simple a man.

   "Thou hast hidden thy talent," he said, "so that I never perceived it."
   To this the man only replied, "Dear Master, if God will, I am purposed
   to go home again."

   But the Master said, "Dear son, what shouldst thou do at home? Thou
   must eat there as well as here, therefore stay in this place, for if
   God will, I am minded to preach again of a perfect life."

   Then said the man, "Dear Master, you must know that I have not come
   hither for the sake of your preaching, but because I thought, with
   God's help, to give you some good counsel."

   Quoth the Master, "How shouldst thou give counsel? Thou art but a
   layman, and understandest not the Scriptures, and it is moreover not
   thy place to preach if thou wouldst. Stay here a little longer,"
   continued the Master meekly, "perchance God will give me to preach such
   a sermon as thou wouldst care to hear."

   Then the man said, "Dear Master, I would fain say somewhat to you, but
   I fear that you would be displeased to hear it."

   But the Master answered, "Dear son, say what thou wilt, I can answer
   for it that I shall take it in good part."

   Hereupon the man said, "You are a great scholar, and have taught us a
   good lesson in this sermon. But you yourself do not live according to
   it. Yet you try to persuade me to stay here that you may preach me yet
   another sermon. Sir, I give you to understand that man's words have in
   many ways hindered me, much more than they have helped me. And this is
   the reason; it often happened that when I came away from the sermon, I
   brought certain false notions away with me, which I hardly got rid of
   in a long while with great toil. But if the highest Teacher of all
   truth come to a man, he must be empty and quit of all else, and hear
   His voice only. Know ye, that when this same Master cometh to me, He
   teaches me more in one hour, than you or all the doctors from Adam to
   the judgment day will ever do."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER III

NICHOLAS TELLS THE MASTER WHOLESOME TRUTHS

   THE Master made no reply for a while, but he was a meek and gentle man,
   and, as he said, he took in good part the words of Nicholas. And
   moreover he entreated him, in the name of God, not to return to
   Switzerland, but to stay with him yet longer.

   The man replied, that, in obedience to God, he was willing to remain;
   but he desired the Master to promise that he would permit him freely to
   speak to him, as under the seal of confession.

   And the Master said, "Dear son, that I willingly promise, if only thou
   wilt stay here."

   So the man proceeded to say, "Sir, you must know, that though you have
   taught us many good things in this sermon, the image came into my mind
   while you were preaching, that it was as if one should take good wine,
   and mix it with lees, so that it grew muddy."

   The Master said, "Dear son, what dost thou mean by this?"

   Then Nicholas explained, and said, "I mean that your vessel is unclean,
   and much lees are cleaving to it." And he further explained that the
   good precepts which the Master had preached did but condemn him, and
   were therefore to him the letter that killeth. "But the Spirit," said
   Nicholas, "giveth life. And know, therefore, that if so be you are
   willing, that same letter which now killeth, will by the power of the
   Spirit make you alive again. But in the life which you now have, know
   that you have no light, but are in the night. You can indeed understand
   the letter, but have not yet tasted of the sweetness of the Holy Ghost.
   Withal you are yet a Pharisee."

   Then said the Master, "Dear son, I would have thee to know, that old as
   I am, I have never been spoken to in such fashion all my life." And the
   Master was offended.

   Then said Nicholas, "Where is your preaching now? Do you see now what
   you are when you are brought to the proof? And although you think that
   I have spoken too hardly to you, it is but too true that you are guilty
   of all that I have said, and I will prove this to you from your own
   self."

   But the Master answered shortly, "I ask for no more, for I have ever
   been an enemy to all Pharisees."

   But the man continued and explained to the Master, that in learning the
   letter of the Word of God, he had always from his youth up sought
   himself, and not the glory of God. He told him, moreover, that the
   reason that the letter condemned and killed him was this -- he had a
   leaning, not towards God, but towards the creatures of God, and
   specially towards one creature, whom he loved with his whole heart
   above measure, and had therefore not a single eye to God. "And
   therefore," said Nicholas, "I liken your heart to an unclean vessel.
   And when the pure unmixed wine of godly doctrine passes through that
   vessel which is spoiled and covered with lees, it comes to pass that
   your teaching has no good savour, and brings no grace to the hearts of
   those who hear you. And whereas I further said that you were still in
   darkness, and had not the true light, this is also true, and it may be
   seen hereby, that so few receive the grace of the Holy Spirit through
   your teaching. And whereas I said that you were a Pharisee, that is
   also true; but you are not one of the hypocritical Pharisees. You have,
   notwithstanding, this mark of the Pharisees, that you love and seek
   yourself in all things, and not the glory of God. Now examine, dear
   sir, and see if you are not a Pharisee in the eyes of God. For know,
   dear Master, a man is a Pharisee in God's sight, according to what his
   heart is bent upon. And truly in the sight of God, there are many
   Pharisees."

   As the man spoke these words the Master fell on his neck and kissed
   him, and said, "A likeness has come into my mind. It has happened to
   me, as it did to the heathen woman at the well. For know, dear son,
   that thou hast laid bare all my faults before my eyes. Thou hast told
   me what I had hidden up within me, and specially that there is one
   creature upon whom my affections are set. But I tell thee of a truth I
   knew it not myself, nor do I believe that any human being in the world
   can know of it. Doubt not, dear son, that thou hast if from God."

   And the Master further said to Nicholas, "Be thou, dear son, my
   spiritual father, and let me be thy poor sinful son."

   But the man would not consent to this, and said be would ride home
   again, for it was not seemly he should take such a place. And the
   Master then entreated him to stay and counsel him, and to do all that
   he deemed right, so that he might amend his life. And the man consented
   to stay, but he said also, "I tell you, dear sir, of a truth, it is no
   light matter that God should give a man such great understanding and
   skill, and mastery in the Scripture, and he should not put it in
   practice in his life."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IV

WHO WAS NICHOLAS?

   WHO was this man Nicholas?

   And how was it that he, a layman from the Swiss mountains, should thus
   speak to a learned doctor and to a priest?

   For it was the strangest presumption in the eyes of most men in those
   days, that a layman should teach or preach -- and more than all, that
   he should teach an ordained priest, who had power to bind and loose,
   and to work the great miracle which changed the wafer and the wine into
   the Body and Blood of Christ. How can it be explained that Nicholas
   came to Dr. Tauler with so strange and solemn a message?

   This question has been much examined, and the answer is after all an
   uncertain one. A strange mystery attaches to this extraordinary man.
   Even his name is a matter of dispute. His history is one which appears
   to us so full of contradictions and impossibilities, that it is
   difficult to separate that which is true from much that is either
   invented, or told in allegorical fashion. It seems most probable that
   he was the Nicholas of Basle of whom an account will be given farther
   on. This Nicholas was a strange mixture of marvelous faith in God,
   devotedness to His service, love for souls, clear light upon many
   points which to Romanist Christians were utterly dark, abject
   superstition, credulity, and ignorance. To account for the possibility
   of such men, for Nicholas was but one of a numerous party, it is
   needful to go back to the early ages of the Church, and trace the
   history of a despised and persecuted people, who had been known far and
   wide under names of contempt, the origin of which we cannot now find
   out with any certainty. Had you asked them their name, they would have
   replied that they were Christians. They owned no name besides. But
   amongst themselves they were used to speak to one another as
   "Brethren." They were therefore called in various countries "The
   Apostolic Brethren," "The Swiss Brethren," or "The Italian Brethren,"
   or "The Brethren of Lombardy."

   Sometimes they were known as "The poor men of Lyons," or "The
   Leonists," and very commonly they were called the Waldenses. They had
   their own history of themselves, which was handed down from father to
   son. It was this:

   They said that about the year 320 after Christ, the Church had fallen
   into worldliness, and was corrupted through evil teaching. For the
   Roman emperor Constantine, instead of persecuting the Christians, had
   begun to honour them, and to give them worldly power and riches, and
   the bishops became lords and princes, and the things of God were judged
   by worldly judges, and not by the Word of the Lord. And because their
   fathers had held fast to the ancient teaching of the apostles of the
   Lord they had been persecuted and killed. And many of them had fled to
   the mountains of Italy, and Switzerland, and France, and some to other
   countries, and God had kept them as the apple of His eye, and they
   could never be destroyed, though they had to suffer hardship, and
   persecution, and death, from generation to generation.

   And so as time went on they were to be found in many races, and in many
   lands, and wherever they went, they brought the Word of God, as they
   believed the apostles taught it.

   And thus we find that in the year 1250 they were described in the
   following words by one of their persecutors, who was employed in the
   "punishment of heretics" :

   "Of all sects, there is none so fatal to the Church as that of the
   Leonists. And this for three reasons.

   1. Because they date back to a period so remote, for some say they date
   from the days of Pope Sylvester, 315 years after the birth of Christ.

   2. Because they are the most widely spread, for there is scarce a known
   land in which this sect is not found.

   3. Because, whilst other sects inspire horror by their blasphemies
   against God, this sect of the Leonists has a great appearance of piety,
   and especially for this reason, that they lead an honest life before
   men, and believe all that is right about God, and all that we find in
   the creed of the apostles. But at the same time they abhor the church
   of Rome and the Roman priests, to which sin the laity are but too much
   inclined."

   The inquisitor goes on to describe the marks by which these heretics
   may be known, so that the faithful Catholics may lay hands upon them
   when opportunity should offer.

   "They are to be known by their behaviour, and their manner of speech.
   That is to say, they are in their behaviour staid, and modest; in their
   countenances there is to be seen neither pride nor fear. Their clothes
   are neither costly nor shabby. In business they are truthful. They
   avoid swearing and cheating. They do not seek after riches, but are
   contented with necessary things. They are chaste, and temperate in food
   and drink. They are not to be found in taverns, nor at dances, not at
   other idle amusements. Also they abstain from anger, they are always
   employed in their calling, or in teaching and learning, and are
   therefore absent from the instructions and prayers of the Church. They
   can further be known by their simple and modest speech, they abstain
   from idle words and light conversation, and also from lies and from
   oaths."

   It is true that we might have heard very different accounts of them had
   we listened to the gossip of the old women who sat spinning round the
   door on a summer's day -- or had we gone to hear the talk in the
   taverns and in the market.

   "They call it going to worship, but I can tell you," and the old woman
   would speak on in a solemn whisper, "I can tell you, for my
   grand-daughter's husband's uncle knows all about them -- they meet
   together in dark cellars, and pray to the devil, and he comes in an
   awful shape, the very devil himself, and many of them have seen him."

   "Yes," says an awestruck neighbour, "just what I heard myself. And
   there are devils that come in the shape of cats and frogs, and they
   kiss them and talk to them just as if they were Christians."

   "And I know for a fact," says another, "that the devils come to them in
   the form of bumble-bees, and fly right into their mouths, and they fall
   down and worship Satan just as if they saw him in the midst of them."

   But an old chronicler, and enemy of the "Brethren," David of Augsburg,
   who tells us that these reports were commonly spread, adds that "for
   his own part he thinks these stories were fables, and that on the
   contrary the Leonists are all the more dangerous, because they have
   such a gloss of piety."

   However, the old wives' tales found many believers, and many a name was
   given accordingly to the despised "Brethren" -- the "corner-sneakers,"
   or "hole-squatters," or the "enthusiasts" -- which led to the belief
   that many sects were in question, when in fact the same people were
   called by different names in different places, and by different
   persons.

   It has often been said that a man called Peter Waldo, who lived in
   France about the year 1170, was really the founder of this "sect that
   was everywhere spoken against."

   But history proves that such could not be the case, as the tradition of
   their existence from the days of the apostles can be traced back to the
   year 1311, and in the thirteenth century they are not only spoken of as
   having been known for a long while back, but as being numerous all over
   Western Europe.

   For instance, in 1150 they are heard of at Cologne, in 1177 at
   Frankfurt, Nuremberg, and other German towns; in 1170 they were
   forbidden to preach at Lyons -- large meetings were held by them at
   Metz in 1180; in Spain they were persecuted, in 1192, by Alfonso of
   Aragon, who mentions in his edict against them that he follows the
   example of his forefathers in forbidding their preaching. Pope Lucius
   III published an edict against them in 1184.

   Early in the next century we hear of them at Turin, in Savoy, and in
   Austria, where they were severely persecuted -- later on, 1260, we hear
   of forty-two communities of them near Passau; in 1257 they were
   persecuted in Bohemia; and in 1260, it is recorded, "In Lombardy, in
   Provence, and elsewhere, they have more schools and more scholars than
   the orthodox."

   They abounded at this time in Piedmont, and in Dauphiné; all over the
   South of France, at Naples, in Sicily and Southern Italy -- in the
   Netherlands, Flanders, and Brabant -- in Northern France, and in
   England.

   They had been especially condemned at the Lateran Council of 1215.

   In 1212, five hundred of the Brethren were seized at Strasburg. Amongst
   these five hundred were nobles, priests, rich and poor, women as well
   as men. They declared that there were many of their brethren in the
   countries above mentioned; eighty of the five hundred, including twelve
   priests and twenty-three women, were burnt alive. One of them, a man
   named John, spoke to the crowds around. His last words have been
   preserved.

   "We are all sinners. But it is not for our false belief, nor for our
   evil lives, that we are brought here to die, and we have forgiveness of
   our sins, but without the help of the priests, and not because of the
   merit of our works."

   It is about this time that we find them spoken of in connection with
   the Beghards and Beguines, and it would appear from the light lately
   thrown upon the history of these latter, that they were up to about the
   year 1375 neither more nor less than "Brethren."

   But it was not the name given to the "Brethren" in general; only to a
   class amongst them who devoted themselves specially to the care of the
   poor and infirm, the homeless and the sick. They lived together in
   large houses, calling themselves "the poor of Christ." The crippled and
   feeble ones were employed in any little work for which they had the
   strength, the men copied books and taught children, the women wove or
   spun. All begging was strictly forbidden amongst "Brethren," and
   therefore the care of the helpless and infirm amongst the poor was one
   of their first duties.

   The Beguines were just what would now be called "nursing-sisters," or
   "deaconesses." They were not nuns. Their large roomy houses were
   hospitals, called generally "the houses of God." Such houses can be
   traced back amongst the Waldenses, or "Brethren," to the year 1218.

   Some of these houses were places where able-bodied people out of work
   found regular employment. We do not find that they ever built churches,
   or places of worship, without attaching to it some such house. And more
   frequently the "house of God's poor" was their only meeting-place, for
   they said the temple of God is His people.

   They believed in fact that the knowledge of Christ, followed out
   practically, is a real remedy for the sin, and misery, and poverty
   around, for they took in and nursed, and cared for, not "Brethren"
   only, but any who came in their way.

   It is therefore easily accounted for, that the nicknames Beghard, and
   "good men" (Boni homines), are found really to apply to the same
   persons. But after the middle of the fourteenth century the names of
   Beghard and Beguine were given to a very different class of persons,
   namely, to a Roman Catholic order, who still retain it.

   There might be much related of the labours and the persecutions of the
   "Brethren" in the various countries of Europe, before the time when
   Nicholas came from Switzerland to listen to Dr. Tauler's sermons. But
   in this short account it will be needful only to say a few words more
   regarding the belief and the practice of the "Brethren," before we
   return to Strasburg, and to Dr. Tauler and his friend.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER V

THE BELIEF OF THE BRETHREN

   IN order, they said, to learn the mind of Christ, and to understand His
   desires for His Church, it is needful to go back to the teaching of
   Christ and His apostles.

   They said also that it is an error to suppose that the directions given
   in the New Testament for Christian worship and practice, were only
   fitted for those times. On the contrary, they were to hold good even to
   the end, for God changes not, and He gave rules and precepts which
   needed no change to make them suitable for following ages.

   Human learning, they said, could add nothing to God's teaching. For did
   He not choose and send forth fishermen and working men, armed only with
   His power and wisdom? And was not that the time when He was most
   glorified before men? And was it not, because men fell away from the
   teaching of these apostles, that ruin, and misery, and darkness came
   upon the Churches of Asia, Europe, and Africa?

   "Therefore," said they, "let our object be to go back to the days of
   the apostles, and draw from the fountain head, rather than from the
   polluted streams."

   "These heretics teach," wrote one of the inquisitors, "that the
   teaching of Christ and the apostles is all that we need for salvation,
   even without the statutes of the Church."

   It was also a charge brought against them, that they had no science,
   and learnt and taught "nothing but the Bible." "All of them," said one
   of their judges, "men and women , great and small, by day and by night,
   never cease learning or teaching the Bible. The working man who has no
   time by day, learns it in the night. Consequently they neglect their
   prayers" (that is, are not to be seen at mass).

   As early as 1203, they had translated parts of the Bible into German,
   and so in other countries, otherwise this universal study of the Bible
   would of course have been impossible.

   Meanwhile at the Council of Toulouse (1229) the decree was passed, "We
   also forbid that the books of the Old and New Testament should be on
   possession of laymen, and we desire to prevent by the severest measures
   that translations of these books in the vulgar tongue should be in the
   hands of laymen." It was perhaps to avoid some of these severe
   measures, that the "Brethren" translated parts of the Bible in the form
   of poems. And far from troubling themselves about any edicts to the
   contrary, they required of every grown up person that they should make
   a regular practice of reading the Bible.

   Thus stood the forces of darkness and light arrayed against one
   another. Is it otherwise now?

   It is but three years ago that a young student in the Church of Rome
   awoke to the fact that in spite of Pope and priests, of services and
   sacraments, infidelity is spreading far and wide, in so-called
   "Catholic" countries, and that the one remedy, as yet untried, would be
   the reading of the Word of God.

   But, alas, even here in Eastern Europe, there were millions living
   around him, into whose dialect the Bible had never been translated. He
   determined therefore to begin this work by translating the New
   Testament from the Greek.

   But time went on, and the first portion (one of the Gospels), which was
   to be printed and published first, whilst he worked at the remainder,
   remained always unfinished. Sometimes his papers were lost. Sometimes
   when posted to the publisher they never arrived. Sometimes they were
   locked up, and the key was not to be had. At last, some months ago,
   came the explanation.

   "If I have not sent you the Gospel which I promised you, it is because
   I have been told that the Catholic religion forbids the circulation in
   the vulgar tongue of the Bible, without notes. However, I have not
   myself arrived at an absolute certainty that this prohibition is right.
   I should like to talk it over with you."

   But soon after came the further news, "I have been threatened with the
   greater excommunication of the Church if I proceed with such a work.
   You can well believe that for a Catholic this is a terrible sentence.
   And as an obedient son of the Church, I can but desist from my labours.
   This is the true explanation of all the delays and difficulties of the
   past two years."

   This, too, is the true explanation of the darkness of those ages in
   which the despised "Brethren" shone as lights in the world. Without
   creeds or catechisms -- scattered abroad from Spain to Hungary, from
   Calabria to England, from Provence to Eastern Prussia, their faith was
   one and the same, their teaching all alike -- for their one authority
   was the Word of God.

   But, alas, there is a sad side to this bright picture, and to trace
   back the cause of it we also must go to the Word of God. We there read
   that even in the days of Paul, many had turned aside from the truth
   that he taught, and he foretold that in this respect, matters would wax
   worse and worse, that men should turn away their ears from the teaching
   of the apostles of the Lord, and give heed to those who would add the
   law to the Gospel.

   And so it came to pass, that long before the first flight of the
   ancestors of the Waldenses to the mountain valleys, the blessed Gospel
   of the Lord was but half believed amongst the most enlightened. They
   had forgotten the great and wonderful teaching of Paul, and understood
   but little that which they remembered. They went back to the days
   before the death and resurrection and ascension of the Lord Jesus, not
   seeing that as the seal set upon His blessed work, God was calling out
   from all nations those who should be joined to Christ in heaven by the
   Holy Ghost, to be one body -- the body of Christ.

   Already in the days of Paul we see how many there were who would fain
   make up "another gospel" by adding on the law; as if the Church of God
   were but a continuation of His Old Testament people. Many who would
   prefer the old garment patched with the new cloth, and who would put
   the new wine into the old bottles.

   And for this reason the solemn messages of God in Galatians, in
   Colossians, and in Hebrews, stand as warnings -- how often disregarded
   now!

   We need not therefore be surprised to find that whilst the "Brethren"
   regarded every word of Christ as infallible, they considered the word
   of the apostles as of less authority. They went consequently to the
   Sermon on the Mount, rather than to the Epistles, for rules of
   practice; and supposed that the apostles were more or less enlightened
   according to the state of their souls.

   They did not therefore regard the Epistles simply as the word of God
   Himself, in whom is no variableness nor shadow of turning. They held
   them in reverence, and do not seem to have denied or disputed any part
   of them, but they considered that the words spoken by Christ when on
   earth were more to be regarded.

   They did not in consequence understand or teach clearly those "many
   things" which the Lord declared He could not make known to His
   disciples till He was ascended into the glory, and the Comforter was
   come; and thus many of them no doubt taught the Gospel as if it were
   only a more perfect law. And as it always happens with people who do
   not fully understand the difference between the law and the Gospel,
   they failed to learn from the Old Testament that which God would teach
   us thereby.

   For in the Old Testament we find types and shadows of "good things to
   come," which we never understand or value till we know what those good
   things are.

   The Old Testament, as has often been said, is like a transparency,
   which is dim and confused till the light is placed behind it, which
   brings out every part into view.

   But while most of the "Brethren" were thus cloudy and misty as to the
   full clear Gospel, as taught by Paul, we must not confound them all
   together, as though God did not teach each one by His Spirit as he was
   able to receive it. We sometimes talk of people, as though all who are
   called by the same name, and profess to hold the same doctrines, must
   necessarily be as much alike as fragments of the same bit of limestone.

   But the truth is, that the doctrines we profess, even if perfectly in
   accordance with the Bible, may or may not have been taught us by God
   Himself. Each one really learns only as much as he has himself received
   from God. And the Lord teaches most to those who look most simply to
   Him, and who walk according to that which they have already received.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VI

THE LOVE OF THE BRETHREN

   IT therefore came to pass, that amongst the "Brethren," as amongst
   believers now, there was, as it were, an inner circle of those who
   lived in constant communion with God, and who were consequently known
   amongst men by the name which speaks so much -- "The Friends of God."

   Such men owned one another, and found one another out, and took sweet
   counsel together, even though some were "Brethren," and some still went
   by the name of "Catholics."

   It was quite true then, and is true now, that an ignorant Roman
   Catholic, who is, nevertheless, taught by the Spirit, and therefore
   trusting to the Blood of Jesus only, may have a constant and blessed
   communion with God, which the most orthodox Protestant may never have
   or know of.

   But we are not to imagine, on the other hand, that provided a man thus
   trusts in Jesus, and loves Him truly, it is a matter of indifference
   whether he is otherwise misled, and ill taught. Even with the love of
   God shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, we suffer loss in our
   souls from ignorance of any truth that God has revealed. We cannot add
   to, or take away from, the Word of God, without being beclouded and
   lamed in our walk with God.

   Nevertheless, the Lord, who looks at the heart, will own and bless much
   love and little light, more than much light and little love. And this
   little history of the "Friends of God" will not have been written in
   vain; if it serves as a proof that God answers, in His grace and love,
   the most ignorant prayer and desire of the heart that believes in His
   love and longs for communion with Him. And it may perhaps lead us to
   ask ourselves the solemn question: Have we, in the midst of our light
   and knowledge, the same thirst for the living God -- the same sweet and
   constant intercourse with the Lord Jesus -- as some of those who, in
   past ages of darkness, spake often one to another of Him? And have we
   in our hearts the same tender love and care for all, however ignorant,
   however benighted in many ways, to whom the Lord Jesus is precious and
   lovely?

   It is not that mere feeling is the mark of communion with God. We may
   have our natural hearts touched and melted with the wonderful story of
   the Saviour. For the hard rock of the natural heart is often covered
   with a thin layer of the soil of natural feeling, in which the seed
   which fell from the Hand of Christ will spring up for a while, till the
   same natural feeling which welcomed it with joy, will shrink from the
   cross; and the sun of this evil day will scorch the seed, so that it
   withers away.

   And it is a fact very remarkable in the "Friends of God," that it was
   not merely feeling and devotion which drew them together, but rather
   the object of the heart, Jesus, God and Man, the Saviour, the Beloved
   of their souls.

   And thus many a Catholic "Brother," who had no thought of leaving his
   Church, or condemning the services and ceremonies to which he had been
   accustomed, would find himself in full sympathy with the Waldensian
   "Brother."

   And at last he would find himself, he scarcely knew how, in opposition
   to his priest or bishop, and whilst still regarding himself as a member
   of the Roman Church, he might have to give his last testimony in the
   dungeon, or at the stake.

   The "Brethren" were in the habit of marking those who walked after the
   ensample of the Lord Jesus Christ, and they believed that a man walking
   with God will learn of God. We find that they were in fact practically
   and constantly acting upon this truth.

   It was not a question with them of this sect or that, but simply
   whether this or that man had been taught by the Spirit of God. "We must
   receive the Spirit," they said, "to dwell in us, before the image of
   God can be restored in our souls. We learn the way to God by the
   written Word, and the inner Word, namely, the Spirit, but not by gifts
   supposed to be handed down in the Church, nor by ordinances and
   ceremonies. The Church, or the Assembly, is only so far a means of
   intercourse with God, as it is the possessor and keeper of the written
   Word, and the habitation of the Holy Ghost."

   Thus they did not believe that a priest was more capable of teaching
   than another man, nor that he had power imparted to him for the
   forgiveness of sins, but the power of declaring God's forgiveness was,
   they said, left to the Church. That is to say, that a man in communion
   with God, and holding the faith once delivered to the saints, is the
   true successor of the apostles, and that such persons, meeting
   together, have authority to exercise discipline in the Church.

   Those "Brethren," who were, properly speaking Waldenses, had no images,
   and though they had a reverence for the saints of old, they did not
   worship them. But as they were in the habit of owning as "Brethren" and
   "Friends of God" any in whom they saw the marks of faith in Christ, and
   of communion with Him, many were thus included who had not cast off all
   the false teaching and the delusions and superstitions which they had
   learnt from Rome. Nicholas of Basle was evidently one of these. How far
   he was in communication with the Waldensian "Brethren" who stood
   altogether apart from Rome, we cannot tell. But that he was known and
   persecuted as a Beghard, and that he was called constantly by the name
   of "The Friend of God," which was the usual way of speaking of a
   Waldensian "Apostle," confirms the belief that he was commonly regarded
   as belonging to these heretics.

   That he was in full sympathy on most points with the "Brethren," is
   quite as evident as the fact that he was in some respects blinded by
   the superstitions of Rome. Little by little the scales appear to have
   fallen from his eyes. But he is more remarkable as a converted man,
   truly devoted to his Saviour, than as an enlightened teacher. His aim
   was rather to save souls, than to examine how far the teaching of Rome
   was accordant with Scripture. He did not remark the want of light,
   nearly as much as the coldness of the love, of those who professed a
   belief in Jesus. Amongst the German "Brethren," there were many such,
   still called Catholics -- still saying masses, and imagining that they
   could gain help from the prayers of departed saints, but yet having the
   life of God in their souls, and knowing Christ in their inmost hearts,
   as "the chiefest amongst ten thousand and altogether lovely."

   The enlightened Waldenses taught that no man has any merit before God,
   and they denied that any who died, having a simple faith in the Blood
   of Christ, had any purgatory after death. And amongst the less
   enlightened Catholic "Brethren," we find that in spite of the articles
   of their faith, thus they felt and spoke.

   The Waldensian "Brethren" made a great distinction between the world
   and the Church. By the Church they meant those who had known the love
   of God, who therefore loved Him in return, and who were known by the
   mark that they loved the children of God.

   On the other hand, there were many "Catholic Brethren," who, in spite
   of their ignorance and superstition, felt in their inmost hearts that
   they had a common faith with the Waldensian "Brethren," and loved them
   with the love which God sheds abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost
   that is given us.

   When they saw the wars and strifes carried on, not only by emperors and
   kings, but by popes and priests; when they were sickened by the vice
   and selfishness, and worldliness of the clergy of Rome, and when by the
   Pope himself their services were stopped, and their churches shut up,
   then "those that feared the Lord spake often one to another," and the
   Catholic "Friend of God" would welcome the Waldensian "Brother," and
   they would "comfort themselves together, and edify one another," and
   forget all but Christ.

   It may be that the Waldensian "Friends of God" did not see distinctly
   how offensive to God were the superstitions and ceremonies of their
   Catholic brethren. They were so much in the habit of making nothing of
   external things, and regarding them simply as symbols of the unseen,
   that the mass did not appear to them, as it really is, an act of
   idolatry, but merely an unfit way of expressing the thought so dear to
   themselves also, that Christ loved us, and gave Himself for us. They
   had not "known the depths of Satan," and they were so deeply concerned
   about the work of God in the soul, that they perhaps thought too little
   of the doctrine expressed as a matter of form by the lips, not seeing
   that the belief of the truth lies at the root of right feeling and
   practice.

   The ceremonies which in England strike us the more from their novelty
   to us, were such an everyday sight to them, that they regarded them
   not. They were not reformers of doctrine, or of manners of worship, but
   they were seekers after the sheep of God, who had been scattered upon
   the mountains in the cloudy and dark day.

   There are two pitfalls, one on each side of the narrow way. We may
   earnestly contend for the faith, and try those who say they are
   apostles and are not, and find them liars, and at the same time the
   first deep love to Christ, and tender affection to every member of His
   Body, may grow cold in our hearts. And instead of having compassion on
   the ignorant, and on them who are out of the way, we may despise and
   spurn them.

   On the other hand, we may put the members in the first place, and
   Christ in the second, and think lightly, rather than sorrowfully, of
   false beliefs and strange worship, if only the love of God is in the
   heart of the one who is thus wandering from His path.

   Into the first of these pitfalls did the Church fall at the beginning,
   and thus the apostasy began. For where love has waxed cold, the power
   is lost which might have won back the wandering feet. "I have somewhat
   against thee" -- are the solemn words of the Lord spoken to the Church
   which was the first to fall, and spoken for this reason only.

   It would be well for us to take earnest heed to this warning, needful
   for us, as well as for the Church of Ephesus.

   In our days we find the people of God falling into both these pitfalls
   -- perhaps more commonly into the last. But the Lord, whose eyes are as
   a flame of fire, who is jealous for every word of His truth, has never
   spurned the ignorant and the foolish who have turned to Him; if He did,
   where would the wisest of us be? He loves, He nourishes and cherishes
   all who in simple faith cast themselves upon Him and Him alone. It was
   this simple faith which Rome would have trodden down. It was for this
   reason that the "Friends of God," even if Catholics, were persecuted
   and slain. To Rome it was a question of obedience to the Pope -- to the
   "Friends of God" it was a question of the rights of Christ to the
   obedience and love of His redeemed. It probably never occurred to the
   Catholic "Brethren" that it was possible for them to belong to any
   other communion than that of Rome. When they sighed and cried over the
   abominations that were done in the midst of the Church they owned, they
   do not seem to have discovered that the root of the evil was in the
   false beliefs which had crept in amongst them. Or rather they did not
   dare to think so. They compared the practice of their Catholic
   neighbours with the life and words of the Lord Jesus -- and they owned
   the sin, lying low in the dust before God. But the bright light which
   God has shed forth in these latter days, was darkened then by the
   clouds which to us are cleared away. They would accuse their own
   hearts, their own minds, but they would not allow themselves to think
   that the Church they revered and loved had lost the truth the Lord had
   committed to her trust, and had turned away from Him.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VII

THE PREACHING OF THE BRETHREN

   IT should not therefore surprise us to find that amongst bishops,
   priests, monks, nuns, and Roman Catholics of all sorts, there were
   many, very many, who believed and taught the blessed Gospel, but who at
   the same time had not light to see how ill it accorded with their
   services and ceremonies. Many of the Carthusian monks were at this time
   numbered amongst the "Brethren," and so in face were most of the
   preaching friars in England and elsewhere.

   The "Brethren" themselves were great preachers, for there had always
   been amongst them missionary preachers, called "apostles," simply
   meaning thereby, persons sent. These apostles went out two and two,
   generally an older and a younger man. They were accustomed to go in the
   guise of travelling merchants or peddlers. They took with them packs of
   small articles for sale, knives, pins, beads, &c. They took in exchange
   eggs or cheese, or small articles of clothing, for they were forbidden
   to take money. And when they reached the house of a "Brother," they
   were lodged and fed gladly, for all the "Brethren" were taught that God
   was pleased if His messengers were lovingly welcomed in His name. Many
   of these preachers were students of medicine, and therefore their
   journeys from land to land were what we should call a "medical
   mission." But the object was the soul. And faithfully, bravely, and
   diligently did they give themselves up to this great and blessed work.

   It was a day to be remembered by many, now "present with the Lord,"
   when the "Friends of God," as they were commonly called, were lodged
   for awhile -- perhaps in some stately castle -- or perhaps in some
   cowherd's cottage -- wherever there was an open door, they were to be
   found preaching and teachings Jesus Christ.

   Let us admit that of much they were ignorant, and there were ancient
   errors still clinging to them, but let us thank the Lord for this
   exceeding great army, sent forth by Him, with their lives in their
   hands, to spend and be spent in His blessed service.

   It was the custom amongst those who could not travel about, but who had
   been taught of the Lord, and who cared for souls, to send letters
   addressed to the different meetings of brethren in distant places. Thus
   was the teaching spread abroad, by means of the travelling apostles,
   who were told privately to which meetings the letters were to be taken.
   It would have been dangerous to write any address, so they were merely
   directed to "Christian Brethren" in general.

   The apostles preached wherever they could, generally in the open air.
   They had also prayer meetings and Bible readings in private houses. We
   find that amongst all the "Brethren," in whatever country they might
   be, they were regular in the habit of daily family prayers, and of
   giving thanks before their meals.

   They went from time to time with their neighbours to the services in
   the churches, but though this was not against their conscience, it was
   against their inclination. In those days, when the magnificent
   cathedrals of Europe were rising in all their glory from amongst the
   dark and narrow streets, the "Brethren " turned sadly away, and said,
   "The Lord dwelleth not in temples made with hands, for we are the
   living temple in whom God the Spirit dwells." They built for themselves
   simple and modest houses of prayer, and refuges for the poor adjoining.
   There they sang no masses, and made no attempts to please the eye or
   charm the ear. "For Christ," they said, "has promised, that where two
   or three are gathered together in His name, there is He;" and where He
   is, there is the solemn sense of His presence, and there is comfort,
   and strength, and joy.

   They ate together the Lord's Supper, taking each one both the bread and
   the wine. They said that the Supper was a remembrance of Him who became
   the Bread of Life for His own, whose body was broken on the cross. And
   it should remind us also, said they, that we are all one body in Him,
   and that we should be ready to lay down our lives for the brethren,
   loving one another as He has loved us.

   As to confession, they said God alone can forgive sins, and needs no
   man by whom to transmit His forgiveness to another. He gives it Himself
   to the soul who comes to Him.

   And as to penance, Christ gave none, they said, to the sinful woman who
   was brought to Him. He said only to her, "Go, and sin no more." And
   therefore they told not the sinners to whom they preached to do penance
   and to torment their bodies, for God needed none of these things, and
   if He saw that suffering would be for their good, He would send it them
   Himself. We may now go back to Dr. John Tauler and to the "Friend of
   God" who came to him.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VIII

NICHOLAS TELLS HIS STORY TO DR. TAULER

   DR. TAULER was now convinced that Nicholas, though only a layman, knew
   some secret of the Lord which he himself had never known. So he said to
   Nicholas, "I pray thee, for God's sake, to tell me how it is that thou
   hast attained to such a life. Tell me how thou didst begin thy
   spiritual life, and what has been thy history."

   The man said, "That is indeed a request which I cannot fulfil. For I
   tell you truly, if I should recount, or write all the wondrous dealings
   of God with me, a poor sinner, for the last twelve years, I verily
   believe you have not a book large enough to contain it. However, I will
   tell you somewhat thereof for this time."

   So the man went on to say how he had striven hard at first to bring his
   flesh into subjection, and that he had so great a desire to be saved,
   that he was ready to do anything at any cost, if only he knew what to
   do. And this desire he says, God found in his heart. But for a while he
   had no knowledge of the right way, and he thought that he should attain
   his end by ill treating his body.

   "The devil," he said, "often stirs up a man to practise great
   austerities, with the intent that the man may grow sick and infirm
   thereby, or weak in his brain, or do himself some other injury. I will
   tell you," he went on to say, "how it befell me in the beginning. I was
   reading the German books about the lives of the saints, when I thought
   to myself, These were men who lived on this earth as well as I, and
   perhaps it is that they had not sinned as I have.'

   "Therefore because of my sins I began to practise some severities, but
   grew so sick thereby that I was brought to death's door. And it came to
   pass one morning at break of day, I had been so chastising myself all
   night, that my eyelids closed from very weakness, and I fell asleep.
   And in my sleep it was as though a voice spoke to me and said, Thou
   foolish man, if thou are bent upon killing thyself before thy time,
   thou wilt have to bear a heavy punishment. But if thou didst suffer God
   to exercise thee, He could exercise thee better than thou by thyself,
   or with the devil's counsel.'

   "When I heard speak of the devil I awoke in a great fright, rose up,
   and walked out into a wood nigh to the town.

   "Then I thought within myself, I will go to the old hermit who lives in
   the wood, and tell him all that has happened to me. And I did so, and
   told him the words I heard in my sleep, and besought him in God's name
   to give me the best counsel he could.

   "So the hermit said, Thou must know that if I am to advise, thou must
   first tell me all that thou hast done to thyself.'

   "So I did, and he said, By whose counsel hast thou done these things?'

   "And I answered, Of my own will.'

   "Then the hermit said, Then know that it has been the devil's counsel,
   and thou must not obey him any more as long as thou livest, but thou
   must give thyself up wholly to God. He can exercise thee much better
   than thou thyself, or the devil.'

   "Behold, dear Master, thereupon I ceased from these exercises, and
   yielded up myself and my doings altogether to God.

   "For the rest, dear sir, you must know that I was by nature a very
   clever, ingenious, kind-hearted man; but I had not the Scriptures in my
   hand, like you, but could only learn to know myself by my natural
   intelligence. And once upon a time, I thought within myself, Thou hast
   such good understanding, it may be, if thou shouldst, give thy mind to
   it with all earnestness, thou couldst attain to comprehend somewhat of
   the things of God.'

   "But as this thought came into my head, I marked straightway that it
   was the devil's counsel, and saw that it was all false.

   "So I said, O thou evil spirit, what impure counsel hast thou put in my
   heart, thou bad, false counsellor! If we had such a god' (he meant a
   god who could be understood by natural reason) I would not give a berry
   for him!'

   "After that, another night, when I was saying my matins at three
   o'clock in the morning, an ardent longing came over me, so that I said,
   O eternal and merciful God, would that it were Thy will to make known
   to me something that should be above all our sense and reason!'

   "As soon as I had said it, I was sorely affrighted at this great
   longing, and I said fervently, Ah, my God and my Lord, forgive me of
   Thy boundless mercy for having done this, and that it should have
   entered into the heart of a poor worm like me, to desire such a great
   gift of such rich grace. I confess I have not lived as I ought to do. I
   confess, moreover, dear Lord, that I have been unthankful to Thee in
   all things, so that methinks I am not worthy that the earth should bear
   me, therefore my body must be punished for my sin.'"

   Then the man went on to relate, how in spite of the advice of the
   hermit, he "threw off his garments and scourged himself till the blood
   ran down his shoulders."

   Poor heart of man! the Lord had indeed answered his prayer. He had
   showed him great and mighty things which till then he knew not -- even
   the greatness of his sin -- his unworthiness, and his guilt. He felt as
   Peter felt when he entreated the Lord to depart from him, for he was a
   sinful man.

   And yet the next thought in that heart into which the light had begun
   to break, was not the thought of Christ the Saviour, but the strange
   dark delusion that he must punish himself for his sin.

   In these days perhaps, the second thought would have taken a different
   shape. He would have said, "I must turn over a new leaf," or " I must
   attend to religion," or "I must begin to live a useful life."

   Let us not think that the heart of Nicholas was more benighted than
   ours have been -- or are. You may say we have now higher thoughts of
   God -- we should not suppose He would be pleased at the sight of a man
   scourging himself till the blood ran down. But to suppose that He can
   be pleased with any of our vain attempts to put away our sin, is an
   ignorance equally great. Our own religion, our feelings, our tears and
   prayers, and our works, are of as much value before God as the stripes
   which Nicholas laid upon his shoulders, and of no more. He had been
   taught in his day of one false way to heaven, and men have been taught
   since of many other ways equally false. But one true Way has through
   all the ages remained the same, unchanged and eternal. And in all ages
   those taught of God have found it, and passed in by that way into
   Paradise -- Jesus, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Jesus only.

   Yet the Lord did not consider the unworthy thoughts that Nicholas had
   of Him. He knew the thoughts He had towards that poor benighted man,
   "thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give him," not "an expected
   end," but an end far beyond all that he could expect or hope for.

   "In that same hour," continued Nicholas, "as the day broke, and the
   blood was flowing down, in that same hour God showed His mercy upon me,
   so that my mind was filled with light and clearness. And in that same
   hour it seemed to me that my natural reason was gone from me, and I had
   an understanding far above it. The time seemed all too short to me. I
   saw that it was a supernatural and mighty wonder wrought by God, and I
   could have cried with S. Peter, Lord, it is good for me to be here!'

   "Now know, dear sir, that in that self-same short hour I received more
   truth, and more illumination in my understanding, than all the teachers
   could ever teach me from now till the Judgment Day by word of mouth,
   and with all their natural learning and science. Now, dear Master, I
   have said enough at this time, as to how it stands with you."

   Then said the Master, "If God should give thee grace to say still more,
   I should heartily rejoice in it, for I tell thee in all sincerity that
   I have listened to thee gladly, dear son. Now I beg thee, for God's
   sake, do not leave me, but stay here, and if thou lack money I will not
   let thee want for anything, if I have to pledge a book for it."

   Then said the man, "God reward you, dear sir -- know that I need not
   your kindness, for God hath made me a steward of His goods, so that I
   have of earthly wealth 5000 florins, which are God's. And if I knew
   where there was need of them, or where God would have them bestowed, I
   would give them away."

   Then said the Master, "Dear son, thou art indeed the steward of a rich
   man and a great Lord!"
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IX

THE MASTER OWNS HIMSELF A SINNER

   AFTER this the Master said to Nicholas, "I am in great wonderment about
   that thou saidst, that I and all teachers could not teach thee as much
   by the Day of Judgment as thou hast been taught in an hour. Now tell
   me, for I wish to hear, has the Scripture proceeded from the Holy
   Ghost?"

   Nicholas was astonished at this question -- he now saw that the Master
   was beginning to understand, for the first time, that there is a great
   power far above all the thoughts and reason of men, and that power is
   the Holy Ghost.

   "Sir," he said, "it seems impossible to me, that after I had said so
   much to you, you should talk in such a childish fashion!" And he told
   the Master that were he to relate to him the wonders that he had seen,
   that were worked by the Holy Ghost, it would make such a long story
   that one might write a large book about it. "There was," he said, "a
   heathen, who was a very kind-hearted man, and often cried to Him who
   had made, as he believed, both himself and all the world; and said, O
   Creator of all creatures, I have been born in this land. Now the Jews
   have another faith, and the Christians another. O Lord, who are over
   all, and hast made all creatures, if there be now any faith better than
   that in which I have been born, or if there be any other better still,
   show it to me in what wise Thou wilt, so that I may believe it, and I
   will gladly obey Thee and believe.' Now behold, dear sir, a letter was
   sent to that heathen, written by me, a poor sinner, in such sort that
   he came to the Christian faith, and he wrote me a letter back again,
   telling what had befallen him. Dear sir, can you instruct me how I
   should write to a heathen far away in a heathen land, in such fashion
   that the heathen should be able to read and understand it, and make the
   letter such that the heathen should come to the Christian faith?"

   Then said the Master, "Dear son, these are the works of the Holy Ghost.
   God is wonderful in all His works and gifts. Dear son, thou hast told
   me very strange things."

   Then said the man, "Albeit I am unworthy of it, yet so did the Holy
   Ghost work through me, a poor sinner."

   The man desired by this story to make the Master understand that
   wherever the truth of God is taught to the soul, it can only be by the
   power of the Holy Ghost. And that therefore the supernatural power of
   the Word of God is the proof that it is not the word of man, but that
   the Holy Ghost is the author of it. And the man also desired that the
   Master should see that this Word must be taught to the soul by the
   Spirit, for that the natural mind could neither produce the word, nor
   teach it, nor understand it.

   And Nicholas said further, "Dear sir, I fear that I have said some
   things to you which have vexed you greatly in your mind. It is because
   I am a layman, and you are a great doctor of Holy Scripture, and yet I
   have said so much to you after the manner of a teacher. But that I have
   meant it well and kindly, and sought your soul's salvation in it, and
   simply the glory of God, and nothing else, of that God is my witness."

   Then said the Master, "Dear son, if it will not make thee angry, I will
   tell thee what vexes me."

   Then said the man, "Yea, dear sir, speak without fear. I promise not to
   take it amiss."

   The Master said, "It amazes me greatly, and is very hard to receive,
   that thou being a layman, and I a priest, I am to take instruction from
   thee. And it also troubles me much that thou callest me a Pharisee."

   Then said the man, "Is there nothing else that you cannot take in?"

   The Master answered, "No, I know of nothing else."

   Then said the man, "Shall I also explain to you these two things?"

   He answered, "Yes, dear son, I pray thee in all kindness to do so, for
   God's sake."

   Then the man reminded the Master of a story which he had often heard,
   and which he fully believed. It was this -- long ago, in ancient times,
   there was a young maiden, called Katherine, who was barely fourteen
   years old. But so marvellously did she speak of the things of God, that
   fifty great masters who heard her learnt by this means the blessed
   Gospel, and went willingly to martyrdom. "Who wrought this, dear sir?"
   said the man.

   Then said the Master, "The Holy Ghost did this."

   Quoth the man, "Do you not believe that the Holy Ghost has still the
   same power?"

   "Yes," said the Master, "I believe it fully."

   Then said the man, "Wherefore then do you not believe that the Holy
   Ghost is speaking to you at this moment through me, a poor sinner and
   unworthy man, and is minded to speak to you? He spoke the truth through
   Caiaphas, who was also a sinner; and know, that since you take what I
   have said to you so much amiss, I will refrain from saying anything to
   you for the future."

   Then said the Master, "Dear son, do not do that -- I hope, if God will,
   to be the better for thy words."

   The man said, "Ah, dear sir, it vexes you also that I should have
   called you a Pharisee, and yet I gave you such full proof of it that
   you could not deny it. But since this is not enough to content you, I
   must say still more, and prove to you once again that I am right, and
   that you are what I said. Dear Master, you know very well that our Lord
   Jesus Christ said Himself, Beware of the Pharisees, for they bind heavy
   burdens, and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men's shoulders. But
   they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers.' Now,
   dear sir, look at yourself. In this sermon of yours you have bound and
   laid upon us twenty-four articles, and you keep few of them enough
   yourself.

   "Again: our Lord said, Beware of the Pharisees: whatsoever they bid you
   observe, that observe and do; but do not ye after their works, for they
   say and do not.'"

   Quoth the Master, "Our Blessed Lord spoke these words to the men of His
   own day."

   The man said, "Nay, but He speaks them still, now and evermore, to all.
   Dear Master, look at yourself. Whether you touch these burdens, and
   bear them in your life, is known to God, and also to yourself. But I
   confess, that as far as I can judge of your present condition, I would
   rather follow your words than your life. Only look at yourself, and see
   if you are not a Pharisee in the eyes of God; though not one of those
   false hypocritical Pharisees whose portion is in hellfire."

   The Master said, " I know not what to say. This I see plainly, that I
   am a sinner, and am resolved to better my life, if I die for it. Dear
   son, I cannot wait longer. I pray thee, simply for God's sake, to
   counsel me how I shall set about this work, and show me and teach me
   how I may attain to the highest perfection that a man may reach on
   earth."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER X

THE MASTER LEARNS HIS A. B. C.

   IT was plain, from these words, that the Master did not yet know that
   he was but a lost, dead sinner. He did not know that he needed, not to
   better his life, but to receive from God a new life which he could not
   give himself. He was still hoping so to cultivate the dead tree, that
   it should at last bear fruit.

   How far Nicholas could have put this truth into words, I know not. But
   the Lord directs the heart, and He puts His words into the mouth of
   those, however imperfectly taught, who look to Him for guidance.

   And thus, just as when the Lord replied to the rich young man, "If thou
   wilt enter into life, keep the commandments," so did Nicholas reply to
   the Master.

   He said, "Dear sir, do not be wroth with me, but I tell you of a truth
   such counsel is scarcely to be given you; for if you are to be
   converted, all your wonted habits must be broken through with great
   pain, because you must altogether change your old way of life. And
   besides I take you to be near fifty years old."

   Then said the Master, "It may be so; but, O dear son, to him, who came
   into the vineyard at the eleventh hour, was given his penny, the same
   as to him who came in at the first. I tell thee, dear son, I have well
   considered the matter and my heart is so firmly set, that if I knew
   this moment that I must die for it, I would yet, with the help of God,
   cease from my carnal life, and my earthly reasonings, and live
   according to thy counsel. I beseech thee, for God's sake, not to keep
   me longer waiting but to tell me this moment how I must begin."

   Yes, to begin a work! To begin to build the tower whose top was to
   reach to heaven! To wash and mend the foul and ragged garment, and make
   of it a dress fit for the courts of the King, whilst he who was to wear
   it had no place within those courts, even could he have cleansed it and
   made it new!

   Then answered the man, "Dear sir, because through the grace of God you
   are willing to humble yourself and submit yourself to a poor, mean,
   unworthy creature; for all this let us give the glory to God, to whom
   it is due, for this grace proceeds from Him, and flows back to Him.
   Since then, dear sir, I am to instruct you, and counsel you in God's
   name, I will look to Him for help and do so for love of Him. And I will
   set you a task such as they give children to begin with at school,
   namely the four-and-twenty letters of the alphabet, beginning with A."

   And Nicholas wrote down for the Master one of the alphabets of practice
   which were used by the Waldenses from ancient times.

   This Alphabet had no pretence to be the Gospel. It was simply a set of
   rules which were taught to young Christians relating to their daily
   conduct. Good and wise rules, and taken from the Bible.

   It is perplexing to find, that in many of the oldest printed accounts
   of Dr. Tauler's conversion, one rule in this Alphabet stands as
   follows: "Ye shall evermore, without ceasing, beseech our lady that she
   help you to learn this our lesson well." But a far older MS. account
   reads thus, "Ye shall beseech our lady that He help you, &c." And the
   word "lady" is evidently written over the true word, "Lord." "Fronen"
   (in old German, Lord) could easily be turned into "Frowen" (lady), but
   the unfaithful scribe overlooked the pronoun following, which tells the
   tale of the original text.

   The master looked ruefully at the little Alphabet.

   "Now, dear sir," said Nicholas, "take kindly this child's task of the
   A. B. C."

   Then said the Master, "However thou mayest call this a child's task,
   methinks it needs a man's strength to attack it.

   "Letter A. After a manly, and not a childish sort, ye shall with
   thorough earnestness begin a good life.'

   "Letter B. Bad ways ye shall hate, and practise all goodness with
   diligence, and with full purpose of heart.'

   "Tell me now, dear son," continued the Master sadly, "how long a time
   wilt thou give me to learn this lesson?" The man answered, "We will
   take five weeks, in honour of the five wounds of Christ, that you may
   learn it well."

   To what purpose were the five wounds of Christ, if men could inherit
   eternal life, by making rules and keeping them? We should perhaps have
   put the Gospel, clearly, as now we know it before the Master at once.
   But Nicholas perceived that the Master had first to learn his need of
   it. It was well that he should find even the children's Alphabet too
   much for him.

   It was well that the Master should be thus reminded, that it was not by
   his own work but by the work of another, that life was to be won. But
   the Master did not understand, for his eyes were holden, and he thought
   only like one of old, "What good thing shall I do, that I may inherit
   eternal life?"

   So the man proceeded, and said "You shall be your own schoolmaster, and
   when you are not perfect in any one of these letters, and think
   yourself hardly able to learn it, then cast aside your garment, and
   chastise your body, that it may be brought to submit to your soul and
   reason." And the Master replied, "I will gladly be obedient."

   So the man went his way, and at the end of three weeks he went again to
   the Master, and he said, "Dear sir, how goes it with you?" The Master
   said, "Dear son, thou must know that I have received more stripes in
   these three weeks about your lesson, than I ever did in all my days
   before."

   Then said the man, "Sir, you well know that no man giveth his pupil a
   new task before he have learnt the first lines."

   Then said the Master, "If I said that I knew them, I should say what is
   not true."

   Then said the man, "Dear sir, go on as you are doing till you know your
   lesson right well."

   At the end of another three weeks the Master sent for Nicholas, and
   said to him, "Dear son, rejoice with me, for I think, with God's help,
   I could say the first line. And if thou art willing, I will repeat over
   the whole lesson to thee."

   "No, dear sir," said the man, "I will gladly rejoice with you, and take
   your word for it that you know it."

   Then the Master assured Nicholas that it had been a hard task, and he
   prayed him now to teach him further.

   Then answered the man, "I can for myself teach you nothing further, but
   if so be that God willeth to teach you through me, I will gladly do my
   part, and be an instrument in the Lord's hand by which He may work out
   His purposes.

   "Hearken, dear Master, I will counsel you in godly love, and brotherly
   faithfulness.

   "If it should happen to you as to the young man in the Gospel, to whom
   our Lord said, Go and sell all that thou hast, and give to the poor,
   and come and follow Me,' I will not be answerable."

   Then said the Master, "Dear son, have no fears on that score, for I
   have already left all that I have, and with God's help, am resolved to
   go forward, and be obedient unto God, and unto thee."

   Then Nicholas perceived that the Master had only grown more proud, and
   satisfied with himself. And he saw that to humble himself, would be
   like the task which the Lord put before the young man who was bent upon
   gaining for himself eternal life.

   Therefore he told the Master that he must needs first of all be willing
   not to do, but to suffer; not to fill his treasury with his own works,
   but to empty it of all things.

   That he must be content to be despised and hated, even by his brethren,
   and that he must let go his proud and ingenious reason, and that he
   must cease his studies and his preaching.

   And should any come to him to confess their sins, he should only say to
   them, "I will learn how to counsel myself, and when I can do that I
   will also counsel you."

   "And if," he continued, "you are asked when you will preach, say, as
   you can with truth, that you have not time at present, and so you will
   get rid of the people."

   The Master said, "Dear son, I will willingly do so, but how then shall
   I occupy myself?"

   Nicholas replied that he should sit in his cell, and read his book of
   prayers, and also go to services if he felt inclined.

   "And," he said further, "what time is left, you shall set before you
   the sufferings of our Lord, and look at yourself in the mirror of His
   holy life and meditate on your wasted time, in which you have been
   living for yourself, and how small has been your love, compared to His
   love."

   And Nicholas also said that when the Lord saw that the time was come,
   He would make of the Master a new man, that he should be born again of
   God.

   For Nicholas saw that the Master could as yet only come to God as rich
   and increased with goods, and thus be sent empty away. He would have to
   be hungry, and thirsty, and poor, before he could be filled with good
   things.

   All worldly honour, Nicholas told him, he would have to renounce, all
   that in his carnal pride he called his own, all the pleasure and
   delight he had taken in himself, and he would have to fall down, like
   the sinful woman, at the feet of Christ.

   "And then," he said, "the Lord will put you to the test, that you may
   be tried and purified as gold and He shall give you to drink of the
   bitter cup of suffering and persecution that He gave to His beloved
   Son. And one bitter drop of this cup," he went on to say, "will be, in
   my belief, that all your good works and refraining from evil will be
   despised and turned to nought in the eyes of the people. Those who
   learnt from you heretofore will forsake you, and think you are gone out
   of your mind, and your good friends and brethren will be offended, and
   say that you have taken to strange ways. When this happens, dear sir,
   be not dismayed, but rejoice, for woe be unto us when all men speak
   well of us. I see well, for the Lord shows it me, how you are thinking
   in your heart that I have said very hard things to you, and this is why
   I begged you beforehand to let me go, and I told you that if you went
   back like that young man, I would not have it laid to my charge."

   The Master said, "Thou sayest truly. I confess it does seem to me a
   hard thing to follow your counsel."

   For the Master had just been rejoicing that by means of the Alphabet,
   he had added somewhat to "those things that were gain to him," and now
   must he count them all as loss? as dress and dung, and be nothing
   before God and man?

   Yet he determined that he would try even this, and that he would set to
   work again with greater earnestness, and with fuller purpose of heart
   than before.

   On the eleventh day after this, he sent again for Nicholas. He told him
   he had had great agony and struggle, and fighting by day and by night,
   against the flesh and the Devil. "But, by God's grace," he said, "I am
   purposed to remain steadfast in this work, come weal, come woe."

   He also told Nicholas that the moment he had left him eleven days
   before, he had written down carefully all that Nicholas had told him,
   word for word.

   Nicholas said he was rejoiced that the Master was so bold and
   steadfast.

   "And now" he said, "in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, set forward."

   And so saying the man took his leave, and the Master began his work
   afresh in good earnest.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XI

HOW IT FARED FURTHER WITH THE MASTER

   NOW it came to pass that before a year was out, it happened to him as
   Nicholas had foretold.

   He grew to be despised of his familiar friends, and his spiritual
   children all forsook him, as entirely as if they had never seen him.
   And this he found very hard to bear, and it caused him such grief that
   his head was like to turn.

   Then he sent for Nicholas, and told him how it fared with him, how he
   was ill in his whole body, and especially in his head.

   Then said the man, "Sir, you must not be dismayed, but you must put
   your firm trust in God, and commit yourself wholly to Him. Know that
   this account of yours pleases me well. The same thing happened to me
   also. Meanwhile, you must take some remedies while you are in this
   state, and treat your body well with good food which may strengthen it.
   A box of spices was made for me, and I will have such an one prepared
   for you, to strengthen your head."

   Then said the Master, "But thou didst tell me before, that I must shun
   good eating and drinking." The man answered, "Yes, sir, but when the
   body is sick, we may come to its help with remedies, else we should
   tempt God. Dear sir, commit yourself to God, and wait for His grace to
   show you what He will have you to do, whether it be bitter or sweet.
   Further, I beseech you, for God's sake, not to take it amiss of me, but
   I must go home on account of a very important matter. But if so be that
   you could not or would not do without me, send into the town for me,
   and I will gladly come; but if you can bear up without the aid of any
   creature, that would be best of all for you."

   Then said the Master, "Dear son, say not so, for I cannot and would not
   do without thee for any length of time -- it would be hard indeed if
   thou didst forsake me, for then I should have no consolation left in
   the world."

   The man said, "Dear sir, I will show you a better Comforter, that is
   the Holy Ghost. I have but served Him in the work that I have done for
   you. It is His work, and not mine." So the Master answered, "Dear son,
   may God be your eternal reward! I will commit myself to God, and bear
   this suffering as best I may.

   Then the man advised the Master to take care of his body, and not let
   it suffer from want of needful things.

   "But," he said, "if you lack money, do not sell your books, for you may
   need them in time to come."

   Then the man took his leave, and departed from that place, but the
   Master's eyes filled with tears, and he began to weep.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XII

JESUS OF NAZARETH PASSETH BY

   TWO years passed by. Two years of sadness and sorrow for Dr. Tauler. He
   had sore temptations and assaults of the Devil, and his friends forsook
   and despised him, and he ceased to preach and to labour; and he fell
   into great poverty, so that he was obliged to pledge a part of his
   books.

   Moreover he fell into great weakness of body, and continual sorrow of
   heart. He had lost all in which he once trusted, and all that had made
   him to be somewhat, and he had at last come to this, that he owned with
   bitter tears, "I am wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and
   naked."

   One night, it was at the time known to Dr. Tauler as the "Feast of S.
   Paul's Conversion," he was as it were struck down by the assaults of
   Satan and the despair of his own heart, and he was thereby so overcome
   with weakness of body, that when the time came for morning service, he
   could not go to the chapel, but remained in his cell, and cast himself
   simply and humbly upon the Lord, without help or consolation in
   himself, or in any other creature.

   And as he lay weak and exhausted after his sleepless night, he thought
   of Jesus.

   He remembered the bitter sufferings of the Lord because of His great
   love that He had for us.

   And he considered his own life, how poor his life had been -- for he
   compared it with the love of God. Whereupon he was overcome with bitter
   sorrow for all his sins and his wasted time, and he exclaimed with his
   tongue and heart, "O merciful God, have mercy upon me, a poor sinner,
   for Thy boundless mercy's sake, for I am not worthy that the earth
   should bear me!"

   And as he lay there, thus weak and stricken down with sorrow, but fully
   awake, he heard as it were a voice speaking to him and saying, "Trust
   in God, and be at peace, and know that when He was on earth as a man,
   He made the sick, whom He healed in body, sound also in soul."

   Straightway when these words were spoken to him, he lost his senses and
   reason, and knew not how or where he was. But when he came to himself
   again, he was filled as it were with a new strength and might in all
   his being, and those things which aforetime were dark to him were now
   clear to him.

   Then thought he to himself, "How is it that this has come to me? I
   cannot come to the bottom of this matter. I will send for my friend,
   and tell him all that has happened."

   So he sent for the man, and when he was come, the Master told him all
   that had befallen him. Then the man said, "It rejoices me from the
   bottom of my heart to hear all that you have told me.

   "Dear sir, you must know that you have now, for the first time,
   received the true and mighty gift of God's grace.

   "And I tell you of a truth, that now, for the first time, your soul has
   been touched by the Most High.

   "And know that the letter which has slain you, also maketh you alive
   again, for it has now reached your heart in the power of the Holy
   Ghost. Your teaching will now come from the Holy Ghost, which before
   came from the flesh.

   "For you have now received the light of the Holy Spirit by the grace of
   God, and the Scriptures which you already know will now be made clear
   to you, for you will have an insight that you never had before."

   To many who read this, it may seem that Nicholas spoke with undue
   confidence. For we are so accustomed in these days to speak of
   salvation, and of conversion, in the clear and definite language of the
   Bible, that we should have no doubt enquired more fully what truth it
   was, that the doctor had believed. Had he a clear knowledge of the
   atoning work of Christ?

   But conversion, the blessed work of God, is none the less conversion,
   in the case of those who are too ignorant to describe it. And yet those
   who have themselves known it in their own experience, will be able to
   see where this great miracle has been truly wrought, however
   imperfectly described. The Master had believed in Jesus, and in Jesus
   only, as the Healer of his sick soul, and like the blind man in the
   Gospel of John, who knew even less of the Person of the Lord than did
   the Master, he could say, "One thing I know, whereas I was blind, now I
   see." Nicholas knew that further light would follow, and it is often
   wiser to leave it to God to work, than to say much ourselves.

   And it is a glorious proof of the reality of the great work of
   conversion, when we see that it is not merely an assent to a statement
   of truth, but a Divine act, beyond the understanding of him upon whom
   it is wrought, and in all cases a revelation to the soul, of Jesus, as
   the only Saviour.

   "For, as you know," continued Nicholas, "the Scripture sounds in many
   places as if it contradicted itself, but now that you have, by the
   grace of God, the illumination of the Holy Spirit you will perceive
   that all Scripture has the same intent. You will now understand that it
   does not contradict itself.

   "And you will also be able rightly to follow the ensample of the Lord
   Jesus. You ought now to begin to preach again, and to show to others
   the right path to eternal life. And know that now, one of your sermons
   will be more profitable than a hundred aforetime, and the people will
   receive more fruit therefrom.

   "But it will be most especially needful that you keep yourself humble,
   for you know well that he who carries a great treasure exposed to view,
   must ever be on his guard against thieves.

   "I tell you truly, the Devil is in great terror when he perceives that
   God has bestowed on any man the noble and precious treasure of His
   grace, and the devils will set all their arts and wisdom to work, to
   rob you of this costly gift. Wherefore look wisely to your goings.

   "Now, dear sir, it is no longer needful for me to speak to you as a
   teacher, as I have done hitherto, for you have now the right and true
   Teacher, whose instrument I have been. To Him give ear, and obey Him in
   all things.

   "And now, in all godly love, I desire to receive instruction from you,
   and I would fain, if God will, sojourn here a good while and hear you
   preach. If God give you to do so, methinks it were well that you should
   now begin to preach again."

   Then the Master said, "Dear son, I would fain therefore get back some
   of my books, for I have pledged as many good books as come to thirty
   florins."

   The man answered, "Look! I will give you that sum, for God's sake, and
   if you have any of it left over, give it back to God, for all that we
   have is His, whether temporal or spiritual."

   So the Master redeemed his books, and gave notice that he would preach
   again three days after.

   The people wondered much thereat, because it was so long since he had
   preached, and a great crowd gathered together to hear him.

   And when the Master came and saw that there was such a multitude, he
   went up into a high pulpit, that they might hear him all the better.
   Then he held his hood before his eyes, and said --

   "O merciful, eternal God, if it be Thy will, give me so to speak that
   it may be to the praise and glory of Thy Name, and the good of this
   people."

   As he said these words, his eyes overflowed with tears of tenderness,
   so that he could not speak a word for weeping, and this lasted so long
   that the people grew angry. At last a man spoke out of the crowd, and
   said, "Sir, how long are we to stand here? It is getting late; if you
   do not mean to preach, let us go home."

   But the Master remained in earnest prayer, and said again to God, "O my
   Lord, and my God, if it be Thy Divine will, take this weeping from my
   eyes, and give me to deliver this sermon to Thy praise and glory. But
   if Thou dost not do it, I take it as a sign that Thou judgest I have
   not yet been enough put to shame. Now fulfil, dear Lord, Thy Divine
   will as to me Thy poor creature, to Thy praise, and my necessities."
   This all availed nothing; he wept yet more and more.

   Then he saw that God would have it so, and said with weeping eyes,
   "Dear children, I am sorry from my heart that I have kept you here so
   long, for I cannot speak a word to-day for weeping; pray God for me,
   that He may help me, and then I will make amends to you, if God give me
   grace, another time, as soon as ever I am able."

   So the people departed, and this tale was spread abroad, and resounded
   through the whole city, so that he became everywhere a laughing-stock,
   despised by all.

   And the people said, "Now we see that he has become a downright fool!"

   And his own brethren strictly forbade him to preach any more, because
   he did the convent great injury thereby, and disgraced the order with
   the senseless practices that he had taken up, and which had disordered
   his brain.

   Then the Master sent for the man, and told him all that had happened.
   The man said, "Dear Master, be of good cheer, and be not dismayed at
   these things. The Bridegroom is wont to behave so, to all His best and
   dearest friends, and it is a certain sign that God is your good Friend,
   for without a doubt, He has seen some speck of pride concealed within
   you, that you have not perceived, nor found out in the secret places of
   your heart. And therefore it is that you have been put to shame. It may
   be that some great gifts of God are to be given you, by means of this
   disgrace, for patience is needful to us that we may be perfect and
   entire. Therefore we must learn to suffer. Be of good cheer then, and
   be joyful and humble. Neither should you think this a strange thing,
   for I have seen many such instances in other people. Do not, I beseech
   you, despise this cross which God has sent you, but count it a great
   blessing and favour from God."

   We can ourselves see in this true story, the blessed Hand of God,
   holding back the Master awhile from preaching, in order that he might
   the better learn his message. For the Master as yet knew more of the
   great change that was wrought in him, than of Him who wrought it, nor
   could he have preached the Gospel clearly, whilst his own feelings,
   rather than Christ Himself, were uppermost in his mind. It is often
   thus with the soul at first, and the Lord has patience, and leads us on
   from the knowledge of the sin-offering, to the knowledge of the
   burnt-offering -- from our first sight of Christ as the Saviour, to the
   blessed knowledge of Himself.

   And the man further counselled the Master, that he should wait in
   silence for five days, and that he should then ask the Prior of the
   convent to permit him to read a lecture to the brethren.

   And he did so, and he then read to the monks such a lecture as they had
   never heard in their lives before, so grand and deep and godly was his
   doctrine. Then they gave him permission to preach a sermon.

   And after one of the monks had preached in the church where the Master
   was wont to preach, he gave notice to the people, and said, "I am
   ordered to announce that to-morrow the Master intends to preach in this
   place; but if it should befall him as it did lately, I will not be
   answerable for it. So much I can say with truth, that in our school he
   has read us a lecture containing such great and profound instruction,
   with high and divine wisdom, as we have not heard for a long time. But
   what he will do this time I know not; God only knoweth."

   The next day after, the Master came to this church (which was the
   church of a convent of ladies), and began to preach, and of his sermon
   you shall hear anon.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIII

THE SERMON TO THE NUNS

   BEFORE relating the history of the Master's sermon, it is needful to
   say a few words without which many might be perplexed and misled. In
   our days, God, in His wonderful grace and love, has poured out a flood
   of Gospel light upon His Church, whose history has been so sad and
   humbling. To us is preached clearly, as perhaps never before since the
   days of the apostles, the blessed tidings of the work done for lost
   sinners by the Son of God.

   We are told, as the Israelites were told by a sign in the wilderness,
   that looking up to Jesus, to Him who was made sin for us, to Him who
   took our place on the cross of judgment, we receive eternal life. We
   are told that by the work done for us long ago, we are saved from
   eternal death, from judgment and from sin. We are told that when the
   sword of the Lord smote the Shepherd, it was the judgment of God upon
   our sins, and that from the moment we believe in Him, we are stainless,
   spotless, and holy in the eyes of God.

   But our forefathers in the days of Dr. Tauler were like men in a dense
   fog of error and of ignorance. It was not by Gospel teaching, but in
   spite of evil teaching, that some, we may hope many, saw dimly through
   the mists and shadows the Saviour who loved them, and who gave Himself
   for them. They could scarcely have given a truly scriptural answer to
   any who asked a reason of the hope that was in them, but they knew the
   Lord as an infant knows its mother, and alas for us! we find that in
   many a case their love was deeper, and their confidence stronger, than
   in us their children.

   When the Lord spoke to Dr. Tauler on the night which he described to
   Nicholas, he knew it was the Lord. He knew that a Hand had touched him
   and had healed him, and now to him all things were made new. For whom
   had he now in Heaven but Christ, and whom could he desire on earth in
   comparison with Him? And now that he had seen Him, and heard His voice,
   he abhorred himself, and repented in dust and ashes. It was not with
   him as with many now, that his first thought was the joy that he was
   saved from hell. Rather was it a thought of sorrow, that in the face of
   such love, such grace, such tenderness, the people of God could be as
   he saw them all around, and most of all as he saw himself to be.

   We know that in Peter's life was a moment such as this. And to the
   Master it was at first much more clear that the Lord's love was
   unrequited and lightly esteemed, than that by the power and value of
   the atoning Blood all guilt was once and for ever washed away from the
   souls of His own beloved people.

   We must remember also, that the nuns in the convent, to whom the Master
   was to preach, were not in his eyes, as in ours, poor misguided women,
   who were building up a tower of their own righteousness, and neglecting
   their natural duties. On the contrary, the Master really in his heart
   regarded them as persons who had professedly chosen the better part,
   and who belonged to God accordingly, in a special manner.

   And yet at the same time the contrast between their profession and
   their practice had grieved him to the heart. They called themselves the
   Brides of Christ -- but now that the Master's eyes were opened to see
   in any measure what was due to his beloved Saviour, he felt that the
   need for these poor women was a call to repentance -- a solemn
   questioning of themselves, whether in heart and life they were fit for
   Him whom they called their Bridegroom.

   In his last years the Master had a dear friend, who wrote a book, of
   which more will be said hereafter. He writes his own experience of the
   popes and cardinals, the priests and bishops, the monks and nuns. "So
   also the nuns," he says, "they are helpful to none, on account of their
   ungodly and careless walk. They have forgotten all godly seriousness.
   They sing and they pray with their mouths, but their hearts are far
   from God. And if they see any who desire earnestly to turn to God, they
   mock at such persons, and despise them. And though, because they live
   in convents, they are called spiritual persons by the world, by God
   they are called the enemies of the Lord, for they drive Him from their
   midst by their ungodly ways. And some are ensnared by covetousness, and
   some by pride, and some by evil temper, and some by self-will, and some
   by impurity. And they love the creature more than the Creator, with an
   inordinate affection, and are impure in their language, and wear costly
   garments, and live in worldly pride, and love worldly persons. And they
   live in secret sins, whereof it is better not to write; but should they
   read these words, they will know full well of what I speak."

   And thus were the hearts of God's dear people grieved and perplexed, at
   the sight of the high profession and the godless life.

   And when the Master was called to preach in the Church of the Convent,
   his heart was full of that which the Lord delighted to see in those
   espoused to Him, and it was this contrast to themselves, which he
   desired the nuns to see, if by these means they might be brought to
   repentance.

   Could he but show them Christ, and His path of rejection, and shame,
   and suffering; could he but show them the joy of the blessed meeting,
   when the Bride shall be presented without stain or spot to the Lord who
   loved her, when the marriage of the Lamb shall come, and the Bridegroom
   shall rejoice over the Bride; would they not turn to Him from the vain
   world they loved, and humble themselves before Him?

   So the Master gave out his text in the vulgar tongue, and it was this:
   "Behold, the Bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet Him." "The
   Bridegroom," he said, "is the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Bride is the
   Holy Church of all Christian people." And he proceeded to say how
   unfit, alas! are most of those who profess the name of Christ, to meet
   the Bridegroom of the Church. "The true paths, and the straight
   highways," he said, "are now-a-days quite deserted, and fallen into
   decay, till we have come hardly to perceive where they are. Nay, this
   highway is to many quite strange and unknown, so that they do not go
   out to meet the Bridegroom, for they know not how to find Him."

   And the Master said also that there are many who call the Lord their
   Bridegroom, and yet they are delighting in things which are displeasing
   to Him, and unfit for Him. The world, with the vain glory and pride and
   envy thereof, and the delights of the flesh, ease and self-indulgence,
   and riches and pleasures, have taken the place of Christ in the hearts
   of those who are called by His name. The Bride, he said, when she is
   well-pleasing in the eyes of the Bridegroom will have learnt to despise
   all these things, and she will earnestly beseech Him to show her that
   which is pleasing in His eyes. And He will teach her how to walk so as
   to please Him in all her ways, and they will not be ways of ease and
   pleasure, but in the footsteps of the Bridegroom -- in ways of sorrow,
   and suffering, and humiliation, and He will give her the great and
   costly cup to drink, of shame, and persecution, and contempt and
   dishonour.

   "And He will give her a humble spirit, so that she will not be pleased
   with herself for her self-denial, nor her endurance, nor anything that
   is her own, nor satisfy herself with her own works and sufferings; but
   find her satisfaction and delight in her Bridegroom only. And He will
   bring her to see, in herself, nothing but unworthiness, so that she
   will say in her heart, I am not worthy that the earth should bear me.'

   "And when she is thus emptied of herself, and filled with His love, so
   that she is willing and glad to suffer all things for His sake, He will
   yet leave her for a while in temptations, and tribulations, and He will
   cleanse her by the washing of water by His precious word, and at last
   the time cometh that He beholds her fair and pure, even without spot or
   wrinkle, having been cleansed by Him till all stain is washed away, and
   she is fair and unspotted in His eyes.

   "Then doth He say, Now rise up, my beloved, my pleasant, my beautiful
   Bride, for thou art pure, and without spot, and altogether lovely.' And
   He looketh upon her with infinite, mighty, divine love.

   "To this joyful high-tide cometh the Father of the Eternal Bridegroom,
   and saith to the Bride, Rise up! my lovely one, chosen and beloved, for
   the time of the marriage is come.'

   "And He taketh the Bridegroom and the Bride, and marries them to each
   other, and binds them together with divine love. Yea God doth bind them
   together in bonds so fast that they can never be parted, in time or
   eternity.

   "And on this great day of His espousals, the Bridegroom sheds forth by
   the Holy Ghost the torrent of divine love upon the Bride, and this love
   flows out unto the Bridegroom, insomuch that the Bride loseth herself,
   and is intoxicated with love, so that she forgets herself and all
   creatures also, and beholdeth the Bridegroom only." We must not suppose
   that the Master was here speaking of the marriage of the Church with
   Christ in the future glory. It was rather the soul of each believer
   which he had in his mind, as being each one espoused to Christ the
   Bridegroom. And the wedding-feast of which here he speaks, is the joy
   which he had now tasted for the first time, and which he desired for
   others. "In whom, though now we see Him not, yet believing, we rejoice
   with joy unspeakable, and full of glory." It was to this present
   blessed feast that the Master had entered in, and of the fulness of his
   heart his mouth spake. Would that all amongst us knew it as richly and
   as fully!

   "Now," continued the Master, "he only who is bidden to such a
   spiritual, glorious marriage-feast, and has obeyed the call, does for
   the first time perceive and taste the real, true, blessed, gracious
   sweetness of the Holy Spirit.

   "And this Bride is a true worshipper, for she worshippeth the Father in
   the Holy Spirit. In this marriage-feast is joy upon joy, and there is
   therein more peace and joy in one hour, than all the creatures can
   yield in time or in eternity. The joy that the Bride hath with the
   Bridegroom is so measureless, that no senses or reason can apprehend it
   or find it."

   As the Master spake these words, a man cried out with a loud voice, "It
   is true!" and fell down as if he were dead.

   Then a woman called out from the crowd, and said, "Master, leave off,
   or this man will die on our hands."

   Then the Master said, "Ah, dear children, and if the Bridegroom take
   the Bride and lead her home with Him, we will gladly yield her to Him,
   nevertheless I will make an end, and leave off. Dear children, let us
   all cry unto the Lord our God in Heaven. And indeed verily we have all
   need so to do, seeing that, alas! our hearts are dull and foolish, and
   there are few who are willing to fight their way against the flesh, and
   follow the Bridegroom, in order to reach a nobler joy, and a glorious
   wedding-feast. It behoveth therefore each one to look at himself, and
   consider his ways with great earnestness. For the time is at hand --
   nay, it is already come -- when it may be said of most who are now
   living here, that they have eyes and see not, and ears and hear not.'

   "Dear children, let us all strive to enter into this wedding-feast,
   most rich in joy, and honour, and blessedness."

   And then as the Master ended, and was to come down again to the path
   through the wilderness below, he said --

   "See, when the Bride has to come back for a while from the festival
   into which by faith she had entered, she says within herself, O woe is
   me! that I am here again!' Yet is she content to do and suffer yet
   awhile the will of her Bridegroom, and He doth not for a moment forsake
   her, but looketh on her all day long because He well knoweth, that none
   will or can comfort her, but Himself alone.

   "And now that you have heard this, let it not surprise you that I have
   not told you how lovingly the Bridegroom talketh to the Bride. It might
   well happen that none would believe me (except such an one as had
   tasted it himself).

   "We find too, in the Scriptures, that the loving soul ofttimes holds
   such converse with her Beloved as words cannot express.

   "Now, dear children, I fear that I have kept you too long; but the time
   has not seemed long to me -- and I could not well this time make my
   sermon shorter -- therefore receive it kindly.

   "That we may all become true and real, and perfect brides of our Lord
   Jesus Christ, and in sincere true humility go out to meet our glorious
   Bridegroom, and abide with Him for ever, may God grant us, Father, Son,
   and Holy Ghost. Amen."

   Thus ended the Master's sermon. It was not preached as you have seen,
   to tell to sinners the way to be saved, but rather, as he was speaking
   to those who called themselves the "Brides of Christ," to tell what the
   glorious calling is, wherewith the Church is called, and to warn them
   of that which was the hindrance in their hearts to communion with the
   Lord. And out of the fulness of his heart had the Master spoken the
   blessed words of love and consolation, which the Lord had spoken to his
   own soul since that wonderful night when he had "known for the first
   time," as Nicholas had said, "the grace of God."

   He spoke of Jesus, Jesus only, as now he knew Him, and as he never had
   known Him before; and if we compare this sermon with the former one,
   how great and wonderful does the work of God appear, which had been
   wrought in the Master's soul!

   He had preached before the righteousness of man. He could now preach of
   nothing but the love of Christ.

   We who have greater light can see that his light was yet in some
   respects dim and uncertain -- but let us ask the Lord to fill us, each
   one who reads these words, with the love that was shed abroad in the
   heart of this His servant.

   Dark he was still in many ways, and ignorant, and misled, but have we
   with our greater light, more to tell of the love and the beauty and the
   preciousness of his Saviour and ours?
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIV

THE GREAT POWER OF GOD

   WHEN the Master had finished his sermon, he went down from the pulpit,
   and read the service. Meanwhile Nicholas observed that a good many
   people, it might be as many as forty, remained sitting in the
   churchyard. Therefore when the service was over, he told the Master of
   it, and they went out to where he had seen the people sitting, to know
   wherefore they were there. But some of them had by this time gone away,
   and only twelve remained, and they lay still as if they were dead.

   Then Nicholas went from one to another, and touched them, but they
   scarcely moved. Then said the Master to the man, "Dear son, what dost
   thou think we had best do with these people?"

   For the Master knew not what to think of this strange thing, the like
   of which he had never seen before. And he said to the man, "Tell me,
   what dost thou think? Are the people alive or dead?"

   Then he smiled and said, "If they were dead, it would be that the
   Bridegroom had called them through the words you spake. How then should
   you bring them round again?"

   The Master said, "If it be the Bridegroom who has called them, ought I
   to seek to awaken them?"

   The man answered, "Sir, these people are still in the body. I wish that
   you would ask the convent ladies to let them be carried into their
   cloister, that they may not take some sickness and harm, by lying in
   the open air on the cold earth."

   And they did so, and the people were brought into a warm place.

   Then the convent ladies said, "Dear sir, we have a nun here to whom the
   same thing has happened, and she is lying on her bed as if she were
   dead."

   Then said the Master, "My dear daughters, be patient, for God's sake,
   and look to these sick people, and when any one of them comes to
   himself, give him something warm to take. If he will have it, give it
   him in Christ's name." And the ladies said they would willingly do so.
   So the Master and the man went their way, and entered into the Master's
   cell.

   Then the man said, "Now, dear Master, what think you of this? Has the
   like ever happened to you in your life before? Now I wot you see what
   wonders God works with good tools. Dear sir, I perceive that this
   sermon will stir many, and one will tell it to another. If it please
   you, methinks it were well that you let these sick children rest for a
   while, for this sermon will give them plenty to digest for some time,
   and if you think it good, and God give you so to do that you preach a
   sermon also to those who are in the world."

   And the Master said, "I will gladly do so," and he preached also to
   those who were in the world, whereby certain of them were converted.

   I grieve to say that I have been unable to find these first sermons
   "preached to the world." But it is plain that the Master's sermon to
   the nuns and the congregation in the convent church, had at least
   reached the hearts and consciences of some. They saw that there was
   that in the heart of Christ, which hitherto they had never known, and
   it was to them as to the Queen of Sheba, of whom it is said when she
   saw that which was in the house of Solomon, "There was no more spirit
   in her." The Lord had shown Himself in His great love to those poor men
   and women who had been accustomed to regard themselves as holy persons,
   taken out from the evil world. And therefore it was that some of them
   now abhorred themselves, and repented in dust and ashes.

   And we may believe that there were some also amongst them, who were
   already the children of God, for in those evil days, when the churches
   were closed by the order of the Pope, and the preachers were silenced
   or banished, there were many of God's true servants who without taking
   vows, or entering religious orders, joined themselves together in
   little companies, and lived it might be in convents, or in houses set
   apart for a life of retirement, and prayed together and, as far as
   their light went, "comforted themselves together, and edified one
   another."

   And in their hearts the Master's words found an answer, and they knew
   that the One of whom he spake, was the One whom they also knew as the
   chiefest amongst ten thousand, and the altogether lovely.

   From this time for about six years, we find that the Master preached
   continually in the city of Strasburg. Sometimes, indeed most often, to
   these little companies, sometimes in convents and in Beguine houses,
   and the words he spoke were blessed to many souls, and were as food to
   the hungry, and living water to those who were athirst.

   And during those six years there were many who needed to be comforted
   and strengthened, for the troubles and sorrows of the city were many
   and great.

   Just after Dr. Tauler had begun again to preach, the Pope, Benedict
   XII, died. The new Pope, Clement VI, was a yet bitterer enemy than
   Benedict had been to the Emperor Lewis. The curses and excommunications
   which were launched forth against the friends of Lewis, were far more
   terrible and severe than those of Benedict. Many who had hitherto taken
   part with Lewis, now deserted him out of sheer terror. Amongst them
   Berthold, Bishop of Strasburg, who humbly asked the Pope's forgiveness,
   and renounced all obedience to the Emperor Lewis. He was rewarded by
   the release of his city of Strasburg from the interdict, in the year
   1345, two or three years after Dr. Tauler had begun his new sermons.
   But two years later the Emperor Lewis died, and the "Parson-emperor,"
   as he was called, Charles IV, was chosen by a certain number of the
   electors. Charles was aware that his election was very displeasing to
   the city of Strasburg, and he appealed to Pope Clement for the renewal
   of the Interdict. Therefore in 1347 the city was again laid under the
   curse of Rome. And meanwhile had there come upon the city troubles and
   calamities more real and more terrible than the curse of Pope Clement.

   Earthquakes, tempests, and famine spread terror and desolation all
   around, and at last, in the years 1348 and 1349, came the awful
   visitation of the "black-death." Whilst this fearful pestilence was
   raging, 16,000 people died of it in the city of Strasburg -- in the
   city of Basle 14,000.

   More than ever precious to those who remained were the words of the
   faithful preacher, who stood at his post, regardless of the curse of
   the Pope, and of the dangers and death that surrounded him. The Lord
   was drawing to Himself the sorrowful and afflicted. And at the same
   time, as it always happens, His judgments did but harden those who knew
   Him not.

   Some of the people rose in fury against the Jews. Those who had
   crucified the Lord were the cause, they said, of the calamities and the
   sickness. They had poisoned the wells! They had brought down the curse
   of God! And thus at Strasburg and elsewhere, thousands of Jews were
   seized and burnt, and the days of terror were made yet darker and
   sadder by the senseless rage of ignorant men.

   It was no wonder that when the earth was overclouded by death and
   misery, and when the church was the battle-field of proud and covetous
   and selfish men, that the eyes of many turned to Him who can never fail
   nor forsake His own, and were ready to welcome any message sent by Him
   to their sad and weary hearts. We with our greater light can see that
   the messengers were still beclouded with the mists of past ages, and
   were ignorant of much that we know, holding fast to ancient errors from
   which God has delivered their children. Dr. Tauler still believed that
   the Mass was a holy and blessed service. He still believed there was a
   purgatory, not to release from condemnation, but to cleanse from evil
   ways and evil tempers.

   But he saw at the same time that there were those who departed, not to
   purgatory, but to be with Christ, and that such a blessed departure
   only, was according to the Lord's desire for His own.

   It is not very easy for us to judge how far the Master clung to any of
   the errors of his Church. Some sermons, which are evidently not his,
   have been printed with his own under his name, and some no doubt of
   those he preached before his conversion, were printed with those of his
   later years.

   It is also to be remarked that before the age of printing, when books
   were copied and recopied in manuscript, it was not uncommon for the
   copyist to take the opportunity of adding to the text his own thoughts
   and remarks which he considered edifying, or which might, as he
   supposed, increase the sale of his book.

   A " friend of God," Henry Suso, who lived at the same time as Tauler,
   and who wrote books which were widely copied, thus remarked, -- "As
   several of my books have been copied in lands far and near by ignorant
   writers, it has so happened that each one has added something, or
   omitted something, according to his own ideas, I therefore have
   collected my books and revised them, that there may be a faithful copy
   written according to the light which God has given me."

   This may account for the strange and contradictory passages in the
   printed sermons of Tauler, which must have been copied and recopied
   many times before the invention of printing, and which no doubt found a
   wider circulation when they had been interlarded with errors regarding
   the Mass, saint-worship and other matters, errors which are in entire
   contradiction to the plain and bold teaching of Tauler in other
   passages.

   The following remarks also, taken from Dr. Keller's History of the
   Early Reformers, may throw further light on the subject. He refers to
   writings sent anonymously by Nicholas to the Knights of S. John, in a
   house near Strasburg, of which an account will be given later on.

   "In order to preserve his influence with the Knights, and to guard
   against the risk of their breaking off all relations with him (the
   severe laws against heretics and their writings being borne in mind),
   the friend of God' used purposely, in a certain degree, expressions
   which would be in harmony with the ideas of his readers, or would even
   speak from their point of view to a certain extent, as we find to be
   constantly the case in Waldensian writings.

   "He calls, for example, the Lord's Supper The Mass,' he speaks of our
   dear lady,' and of the saints, though without a syllable which might
   countenance the practice of praying to them or worshipping them."

   It is therefore the more likely that when the sermons of Dr. Tauler
   were copied or circulated, this language was used for purposes of
   concealment, or he may himself have seen no harm in thus becoming "a
   Romanist to Romanists," though it was easy to carry it out too far, and
   to imagine unduly that the end justified the means.

   We can therefore judge better by the truth which we find in his
   teaching, than by the error (often so contradictory) which we find in
   other sermons, how much he had learnt by the teaching of the Spirit.

   And now let us go back to those ancient days, and listen for a while to
   the dear old saint, and gather up for ourselves some of the bread of
   life which came in those days from the hand of God.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XV

THE SERPENT LIFTED UP

   MASTER TAULER was preaching on a Friday. His text was from John v.
   verses 1-11. And he read these verses all through in the German tongue,
   and he said, "The pool I have been reading about is the blessed and
   glorious Person of our beloved Lord Jesus Christ, and the water that
   was stirred in this pool, is the precious priceless Blood of the Lord
   Jesus, the eternal Son of God, who is truly God, and truly man.

   "He has washed us in His holy Blood, making us pure and clean, and in
   His free and tender love He will wash all those who come to Him,
   repenting of their sins.

   "Dear children, the men and women of old time are the sick people who
   lay around the pool, waiting for the stirring of the water. For so did
   men of old wait for the grace that was to come to them, through the
   solemn bitter death of the Son of God. Then did the precious Blood flow
   forth, and the stream is flowing still. For these last days are the
   days of salvation -- and know, dear children, that no man is made
   whole, nor can be made whole, in any other way, than by the blessed
   precious Blood of our Lord Jesus.

   "Dear children, there are many crosses that we are called to bear in
   following the Lord. We are called to bear about in our bodies the dying
   of Jesus, and to take up our cross daily. But there is only One Cross
   upon which the work of our Salvation was wrought and finished, the
   cross of Christ, of Him who is God and man. There is no other way to be
   delivered from the burden of our sins, no other way to grace and
   holiness and blessedness, no other way to come to God, than by the
   cross of Jesus.

   "By this way, and by this way alone, have all the saints drawn near to
   God. How much might I not say of this the Cross of Christ, and yet
   never could any man say enough! For it is far beyond the mind of the
   high angels to understand how the eternal God in His great love became
   a man, and suffered the deepest shame, and the bitterest sorrow for us.

   "See Him, dear children, hanging between two thieves, that the sin
   might be laid on Him, for He in His love desired to bear it, in the
   place of His enemies. What greater and more perfect love could He have
   shown us, than to take upon Himself the mighty burden and bear it, not
   for His friends, but for those who hated Him?

   "He who knew no sin bore Himself thy sin, O sinner -- bore it as if it
   were His own. And thus thy sin was as it were His sin, and the work He
   did for thee is the only work thou canst bring to God. Thy sin His sin
   -- His work thy work -- for He suffered for thy sin as if He Himself
   had been the sinner.

   "Oh how light to us should be any suffering for Him, as a good knight
   would give no thought to his wounds and his weariness, if he saw his
   king wounded for his sake!

   "Dear children, the Lord gives us a cup of suffering, but it is the cup
   He drank before. He suffered for us, before He called us to suffer any
   grief for Him.

   "And see, dear children, how the chains were broken which bound us in
   our sins, when He was bound on the cross for us -- how the curse and
   the wrath of God that lay upon us was borne away, for He made peace
   between God and sinners by the Blood of His cross -- peace -- perfect
   peace. And the sign that the peace is made, is the blessed gift of the
   Holy Ghost come down from Heaven.

   "Therefore bear in mind, no works of ours, no merit of ours, have any
   value in the eyes of God -- for all is of grace, and all the merit is
   that of the Lord Jesus -- flowing not from us to God, but from God to
   us.

   "See also how by the Lord's death of shame and suffering, the devil was
   overcome, and thus was the wisdom of God made known in all its fulness.
   For it would seem as though the devil had gained the day when of all
   men upon earth the Lord Jesus seemed to be the accursed and forsaken
   one. When He cried My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?' He was
   forsaken as no saint has ever been forsaken by God. It was to this
   forsaking He looked forward, when He sweat great drops of Blood upon
   the Mount of Olives -- and yet all the while He never ceased to be that
   which He is now in Heaven, God over all.

   "Therefore, dear children, if sorrow and suffering come upon you, and
   it seems to you as though you were forsaken, remember the cross of
   Jesus."

   I have put together in copying these words different parts of different
   sermons, for it is well to bring together, as far as possible, all that
   the Master taught concerning the precious Blood of his Lord. That
   blessed truth, denied and despised in our days by many who call
   themselves Christians and Protestants, sounded forth in the great
   Cathedral, and in the old churches of Strasburg, in the midst of the
   darkness.

   Many now are to be found amongst us, who believe that they have light
   to see a nobler way to be saved. Many who regard the Lord Jesus as a
   martyr for the truth, but not as the One who took the sinner's place,
   and upon whom the Lord, not man, laid the iniquity of us all.

   That His sword was unsheathed against His Shepherd, and against the Man
   that was His fellow, for our sins, is that foundation truth of the
   great work of atonement, which Satan will resist, as he has resisted
   it, to the last.

   It was this which stirred up the wrath of self-righteous Roman
   Catholics against Master Tauler, it is this truth which English
   Protestants who have never known themselves as lost sinners, will turn
   from with contempt in these "enlightened days." "Behold all ye that
   kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks, walk in the
   light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall
   ye have of Mine hand, ye shall lie down in sorrow."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XVI

THE MERCHANTMEN IN THE TEMPLE

   IT was not easy for the Beghards and Beguines and for the "convent
   ladies" to see at once that the only work they could present before God
   is the perfect work of His Son. Nor could they bring themselves easily
   to believe, that the penances and prayers, and fastings of so many
   "holy men and women" around them, could count as worthless in the eyes
   of God.

   "How is that, Master Tauler? Have all these good works been done in
   vain? Tell us what you mean?"

   And the Master answered them and said, "Have you not, dear children,
   seen a painter at his work? and have you not perceived the care with
   which he draws each line, neither too long, nor too short, nor too
   broad, but in the exact size and form that he needs to make his thought
   appear on his picture? And he colours it also with care and thought --
   the red here -- the blue there -- and at last his picture tells his
   mind, and he is satisfied and glad. Is not God far more intent upon
   bringing out, in each one of His own, the Image that is well pleasing
   in His eyes? How many a stroke, how many a shade and colour, must the
   Lord bestow upon His handiwork! And thus He gives to some the stroke of
   sorrow, and to some He gives bright colouring, and to some sad
   colouring -- to some He gives to drink of a cup of bitter myrrh -- to
   each one that which will best conform him to the Image of His delight.

   "But there are some who are not content with the myrrh of God, but
   think that they need to mix up bitter cups for themselves, and they
   gain for themselves thereby weak brains, and disordered fancies. But
   they gain no grace, and no reward, for they are building up a tower of
   their own deeds. Therefore God has to wait till they have done with
   their own endeavours, and are come to the end of themselves, and then
   He will work, and His work will never be in vain.

   "For God has determined, dear children, that He will reward no work but
   His own. In Heaven, when He gives the everlasting crowns, it is not
   your work He will crown, but His own. The work which was yours will
   count for nought before Him.

   "We read in the Holy Gospel that the Lord Jesus went into the temple,
   and He cast out those that sold and bought therein, and He said to them
   that sold doves, Take these things hence, make not my Father's house a
   house of merchandise.' It was as if He said, I have a right to this
   temple, and I will have it for Mine alone, and none shall rule therein
   but I.'

   "What is this temple, which God will have for His own, and where He
   alone will rule?

   "It is yourselves, dear children, for you are the house of God.

   "And who are those whom the Lord scourged with a whip, and drove out of
   the house of the Lord?

   "Mark well, it was not people who were committing great crimes, but the
   good people who were buying and selling therein. And the Lord is
   driving them out even now. He will leave not one in His temple who
   makes merchandise there.

   "Ah! dear children, those are the merchants you see all around, who
   keep themselves from open sins, and set themselves up to be good men
   and women, who honour God by fasting, and watching and praying, and all
   sorts of good and holy works. But they do these things, that the Lord
   may give them something in exchange, and make all go well with them;
   for it is themselves they seek in all these works and penances. Any one
   can understand that this is but a trade and a merchandise -- they give
   one thing to get another, and think they can thus drive a bargain with
   the Lord, and will find at last there is nothing they can get by all
   their doings, for whatever they may do, God will never owe them
   anything for it.

   "If there is a good work to be found anywhere, it is God who wrought it
   and not man.

   "No, God can never be the debtor of any man, for none can give Him
   anything that is not His own already. And as to rewards, He gives them,
   it is true, but of grace, and not as debt. Did not Christ say, without
   Me, ye can do nothing'?

   "Ah, children, they are hard and foolish people who desire to bargain
   with God. They have known nothing or little of His truth, therefore the
   Lord meets such people with a scourge, and drives them out of His
   house. Light and darkness cannot dwell together. When the Lord, who is
   the light comes into His temple, He drive the darkness out, and fills
   His temple with His own glory.

   "The merchantmen are all cleared away, when the truth is known, for the
   truth needs no exchange and barter. God does His works from His own
   pure love, and he who is joined to the Lord will work from love also,
   not seeking anything for himself.

   "And this work which has God for its object, has also God for its
   author.

   "O children, it is a blessed thing when all the merchantmen are driven
   out of the temple of the heart, and God alone remaineth and none
   beside! It is the Lord who worketh by the man whom He has joined to
   Himself, therefore it is not the man's work, but the Lord's. Do you not
   remember how Jesus said, The Father, who dwelleth in Me, He doeth the
   works!' and so it is with the man in whom the Lord abides. To the man
   therefore, they are no more his own works, than the works of one far
   away beyond the sea could be his, for it was not he who wrought them
   but God."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XVII

"THE HERITAGE OF THE HEATHEN"

   AND the Master said further, "We read in the lesson to-day a verse
   which tells us that the Lord has a pleasant land to give us, a goodly
   heritage of the hosts of the heathen' (Jer. iii. 19). And He has also
   said that He hath shewed His people the power of His works, that He may
   give them the heritage of the heathen.'

   "What, dear children, is this pleasant land? and what is the heritage
   of the heathen the Lord has promised you? The pleasant land is none
   other than the heritage of our Lord Jesus Christ, for He is the heir of
   His Father, and we are joint-heirs with Him. And what is the heritage
   of the heathen?

   "Children, the heathen are people who have no claim upon God, they have
   no holiness, no ground to stand on, but all they can receive must be by
   God's free grace, without any deserving on their part.

   "But the Jews had a ground on which they stood, of works and doings, of
   ceremonies and laws, and many a thing of which they boasted themselves.

   "But the heathen had nothing to build on but the grace and mercy of
   God. And that is your heritage and mine, for we have nothing else but
   grace and mercy upon which we can set our foot. We have no worthiness,
   and no fitness -- we have nothing to bring to God.

   "But many a Jew is now to be found, standing upright on his own ways
   and his own doings, propped up by his own works. If I have not done my
   part,' they say, then all is lost,' and on the other hand they think
   that if they do their part, all is well. They have no need to believe
   in God, nor in any one but themselves.

   "Do not mistake me, as if I meant to say that there are no works for a
   godly man to do. But a godly man does not take his stand upon them, or
   lean upon them. Many a one, on the contrary, is trusting the whole of
   his salvation to his hair shirt, and his iron collar, and his fastings,
   and his vigils, and his prayers. Perhaps he has taken a vow of poverty,
   and kept it for forty years. And thus he thinks he has paved the way to
   God, and if you could take away all his holy deeds, you would take away
   all his hope and all his confidence.

   "But suppose a man could have done in his own person all the good works
   that had ever been done by all the holy people in the world, now, and
   in all the ages that are past, he would have no more ground to stand on
   than a man who had never done a good work at all, great or small. And
   he would have nothing else to rest upon but the free grace of God,
   grace upon grace, bestowed upon him for no deserving of his own.

   "And that, dear children, is the heritage of the heathen.

   "May God give it to each one of us, and then shall we say My Father!
   and we shall not turn away from Him.

   "And suppose, dear children, you could be satisfied with yourselves and
   your doings, that is the greatest evil that could happen to you. The
   Holy Ghost leads a man to judge himself, and condemn himself, and to
   feel deeply sorrowful, intolerably sorrowful, in thinking of his
   sinfulness, and of the resistance of his heart to the will of God. This
   is a sorrow the world knows nothing about, and therefore it is the
   surest sign of the working of the Spirit of God. We should be very
   thankful if we are brought to see that we have done wrong in any one
   thing. For a thousand sins which a man confesses, and for which he
   judges and condemns himself, are not nearly so dangerous to him as one
   sin that he does not find out, and will not own.

   "Therefore remember, whenever you meet with any of those spiritual
   people, who are well pleased with themselves and their doings, they are
   living in the most dangerous sin, and their end is destruction, if they
   remain in that condition.

   "Ah, merciful God! what a poor, scanty, wretched thing in Thine eyes is
   our righteousness! Woe be to us for our righteousness, dear children,
   for the Lord spake by Isaiah, All your righteousnesses are but as
   filthy rags.'

   "People who have that righteousness say their prayers, but instead of
   getting bread thereby, they get a stone. But that is not the fault of
   God. The stone they get is a hard stony heart, dry, and barren, and
   cold, like ashes when the fire is all gone out, no communion with the
   Lord, and no grace. They read their religious books from beginning to
   end, one after another, but they get no food, and no water, for they
   are neither hungry nor thirsty. They have not even a desire for the
   true bread. And having gone through their round of religion, in their
   blind and ignorant way, they lie down and sleep, and begin again next
   morning, the same thing all over again, and when they get to the end of
   their prayers they think that will do.' And by means of this religion
   of theirs, their hearts become as hard as a millstone, that can neither
   be broken nor bent. This is proved, as soon as anything happens that
   crosses their will, you can find out then how impossible it is for them
   to give way, or yield themselves to God.

   "Dear children, when you meet with such people; take care; it is best
   not to argue with them, but to say a word of warning and then to leave
   them. You may get a stone thrown at your head, or you may be led to
   throw a stone in return. One finds great people and small people of
   this sort, stones and pebbles. Beware of them all.

   "I have known such people go to confession, twenty or thirty years, but
   never once have they truly confessed their sins, and they go to the
   Sacrament, because they have received absolution.

   "But the absolution of the Pope himself would not release them from one
   of their sins, and the more they go to the Sacrament, and the more they
   pray, and the more good works they do, the more blind, and hard, and
   stony and stupid in heart they become, for they grow more and more
   pleased with themselves, and put more confidence in their goodness.
   Better were it they did nothing at all, for all will be brought into
   judgment at last, and then they will find that instead of the fish they
   expect, God will give them a serpent.

   "Meanwhile they work and pray and sing, and read good books, and the
   world says they are good and pious people. It is Satan who makes their
   way so smooth, that he may keep them in his dungeon, to all eternity.

   "And if any warn them of the awful danger in which they are living, and
   of the sorrowful end that is before them, they mock such persons, and
   say they belong to some of these new-fangled sects.

   "For them, unless they repent, and confess their sins, there remains
   nothing but to be shut out of the presence of God for ever.

   "Why so?' they say, we should be very sorry to do anything wrong.'

   "Think you then that you are doing anything good? You give to God your
   mutterings and vain repetitions, your reading and your praying, all
   done with the mouth. But your love, and your heart, that which Christ
   died to win, you give to yourselves and to other creatures. Ah, for
   such a service as that the Lord will not give you three beans.

   "Such people are the ninety and nine, who are left to themselves,
   whilst the Lord goes to seek the sheep that was lost.

   "Are you lost sheep, dear children? God is not seeking great horses,
   and strong oxen; not the men who are doing great wonders and great
   works. He is looking for the small and the weak, and the lost and the
   forsaken, He is looking only for His sheep.

   "O children, what does the Lord do when He finds His sheep at last? He
   puts it on His shoulder, and He calls His friends and His neighbours
   together, and He says Rejoice with Me, for I have found My sheep.'

   "The friends and neighbours -- who are they? They are the holy angels,
   and all the dear friends of the Lord in heaven and on earth. And they
   all are glad, and the gladness is exceeding great, and all because of
   this little lost sheep. No one can understand or conceive such joy as
   that, it is like a bottomless sea.

   "Then the Lord holds fast the beloved sheep, and carries it on His
   shoulder -- and the sheep no longer walks, for He carries it home, and
   all the work is His alone.

   "Before that, dear children, we talked of our works, and did them out
   of our own minds, but after that, God carries us, and it is He who
   works all the works in us, and by us. Whether we walk, or stand, or
   eat, all the works we do are wrought by God in us, we dwell in God and
   rest in God.

   "Let us cast away boldly all outward services and works that hinder
   that blessed joy of the rest in God, and let our hearts flow forth in
   love and delight whilst we look unto Jesus, Jesus who died and suffered
   for us pain and sorrow so sharp and bitter -- Jesus whose precious
   blood flowed down for us -- Jesus, the eternal God, the everlasting
   love.

   "For the blessed life is not blessed because it is long, nor because it
   is a life of many works, but because it is love eternal.

   "How many men there are who are hard at work in the cornfields, and in
   the vineyards of noble wine, but who are living on rye-bread and cold
   water, and who never know what it is to feast upon the finest of the
   wheat, and the wine of the joy of God."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FREIGHTED SHIP

   LET us think as we read the Master's words, if we in our own hearts
   have known the joy the Lord had given to him? And let us fall down
   before the Lord and adore Him, because He did not measure the love and
   joy that He poured forth into the Master's heart, by his knowledge, and
   his light, but regarded only the longing of the Master's heart after
   Him. So that the Master could say, "When the true light of God ariseth,
   the light that is God Himself, then must all created light vanish and
   fade. When the uncreated Light shines forth and glows and beams, then
   must needs the created light wax pale and dim, as a little candle in
   the noonday sun. O children, could a man but see this glorious Light
   for one short moment, he would say that the glory and the joy of all
   the world fade and disappear in the glory and the joy of that little
   moment -- and it is now, in our mortal bodies, that we can know such
   joy and gladness."

   How are we to have such joy in our hearts as this?

   Many must have asked this question in those sad dark days. For there
   was little around but sorrow and strife, and suffering and death, and
   many marvelled at the Master's peace and gladness, and wondered whence
   it came.

   Then the Master explained this to them, and said, "The Holy Ghost
   speaks oftentimes to our hearts. Sometimes by teachers, sometimes when
   we are all alone, and it is as if He said, Dear man, if thou wouldst
   but leave thyself to Me, and be led by Me, I would work in thee, and by
   thee.'

   "O children, it is sad and strange that men are dull and deaf when this
   wise and loving Friend thus counsels them. They like to try their own
   ways, and to do blindly those things which are right in their own eyes.
   And thus they hinder the sweet and blessed teaching of the Holy Spirit,
   and His words spoken to them are as it were a strange tongue that they
   do not understand. How well would it be at such moments to cease from
   all works and to be still, to listen and be silent. For when God
   speaketh, let all the earth keep silence before Him. His work and thine
   will never go on together. He must work and thou be still, or if thou
   workest, He worketh not.

   "But in one moment of that stillness, the Holy Ghost will lift thy
   heart far into the heights of heaven -- far above thy works and ways --
   far above thy thoughts and imaginings. And this does God delight to do
   with His beloved children.

   "But many there are who are like men adrift on a great sea with a
   treasure in their ship, and they know not which way to steer, and they
   drift far far away into the darkness and the mist, and their treasure
   is wet with the rain, and they are lost, and sorrowful.

   "And if then there came a true and stately man, and said to them,
   Follow me, and turn your rudder round, I will lead you by a glad and
   shining way, where the light is fair and clear, and all is still and
   glorious, and where the sun shines, and where your treasure will be
   safe and dry, and where you need no more toil in rowing, as now you
   do,' who would not say in the gladness of his heart, We have found the
   Man who can steer the treasure safely over the stormy sea of this world
   below, and keep it from all harm, and land it in the haven at last.'

   "O children, such is the Guide whom God has given. Trust the treasure
   of your soul to Him. But is it not so with you, that when the drops of
   temptation and sin fall upon your treasure, you go off to your
   confessor, and wander farther and farther into the mist and darkness?

   "But were you to turn to God, and confess to Him, you need no more. And
   the Holy Ghost would speak to your hearts, and lead you in the fair and
   shining way, and blessed are ye if ye will but follow Him."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIX

THE APPLE TREES

   BUT there was a warning the Master had to give, when he had spoken of
   the joy and gladness of the men who eat the corn, and drink the wine of
   God.

   "Understand me, dear children," he said, "we may have this good and
   blessed enjoyment, and then glory in it, as if it were something of our
   own, and even the blessed work of God may be a temptation to our pride
   and self-righteousness. For nature will take pride even in the blessed
   joy of the Lord.

   "Have you never been into an orchard, and seen the apples that had
   dropped from the trees, and had been left lying on the ground? After
   they dropped down, the unclean worms and maggots came and made holes
   underneath the apples, and ate out the heart beneath the rind. And
   though all the apples might look fine and sweet, and ripe and yellow,
   so that to you they were all alike, as long as you only saw them lying
   there, yet if you were to take them up one by one, and handle them, and
   turn them round, perhaps you would scarcely find two that were not
   worm-eaten and full of holes.

   "And so, dear children, there are great experiences, and beholdings of
   the Face of God, times of joy and adoration, so that we may feel
   ourselves in the third heaven like the blessed Paul, and yet so much
   may we be exalted by the very joy of God, that we shall need a
   messenger of Satan to buffet and beat us.

   "Yes, we might be great prophets, and do great signs, and heal sick
   people, and discern spirits, and foretell things to come.

   "In one word, children, we might have and do all things, and yet be
   worm-eaten apples after all. Therefore beware.

   "We have been speaking of the high things of God, which the pride of
   the heart may feed upon. So is it with lower things -- for pride will
   feed on the lowest as well as the highest. Thus in giving money -- if
   we give it in loving service to another, or for the Lord's work, and
   neither tell other people, nor commend and praise ourselves in our
   inmost hearts, it is well. But those who give great gifts, and do great
   works, are very often worm-eaten apples. When people put up beautiful
   windows and altars in churches, and perhaps have their coat-of-arms
   upon the windows, do they not desire that every one should know what
   they have done? But a little sum given in quietness to God, to be known
   by Him alone, is far better than if we were to build a great church,
   and ask for the prayers of men as a payment for our good works.

   "Leave it to God, dear children, and trust Him to make it up to you, if
   you think you are losing anything by not asking for prayer to be made
   for you.

   "Be sure of one thing, that the only possessions you have, are your
   nothingness and your sin. All besides is not yours, but God's. A man
   who owns this is a fruitful tree in the garden of God, and on such a
   tree alone will the sound fruit be found.

   "There may be far finer apples, large and yellow, on the trees around,
   and on a fine day you see them all on the trees, and you think the
   large yellow apples are the best.

   "Then comes the wind and the storm, and the apples fall from the trees,
   and you find out how many are eaten out by the evil worms, and are
   nothing worth.

   "Dear children, I have said enough of the worm-eaten people, and I
   should like to say a word to you about those in whom the works are
   wrought by the blessed Spirit of God. They are God's beloved children,
   who stand listening and waiting to hear His voice, and to follow Him.

   "He leads them oftentimes in a lonely and a lowly path. But they dare
   to go forward, and have no fear, for they trust the Spirit who guides
   and keeps them. Then it is no longer they who work, but God who works
   in them, and the works of God are works that are far above all sense,
   and nature, and reason.

   "Were a man to do nothing else for a whole year but yield himself up to
   the work of God within him, he would never have spent a year so well
   and with such blessing, even if he had done no good work besides. Even
   if for one moment only, his eyes had been unsealed to see the hidden
   work of God, he would have spent the year better than any who had
   themselves worked hard from the beginning of the year to the end, out
   of their own hearts and minds.

   "As God is high above His creatures, so is the work of God far above
   all works of men, and where the work of God is filling our hearts,
   there is less to show in busy works that men can see -- for to wait on
   Him and listen to His voice is often all we have to do.

   "Children, be sure that every plant our Heavenly Father has not
   planted, must be rooted out at last. But give the Lord room in your
   hearts to work His glad and blessed work, and then you will know the
   love wherewith the Father loves you.

   "Love, so great, so deep, so marvellous, that it passes all our
   thoughts and all our understanding. For we are loved with the love
   wherewith the Father loveth His only begotten Son. And this is the work
   of God, to shed abroad in our hearts this deep and precious love, this
   love which is a depth unfathomable.

   "It is by living faith alone, that our hearts are thus left at rest for
   God to work in them, and all the great works which men can do are as
   nothing when compared with this. But when God thus works in us we need
   above all things to be emptied utterly of self, or we shall give
   ourselves credit for the work which is His alone. For could we find a
   man who knew this surpassing joy and rest of heart, and who was lifted
   up thereby in his own eyes, this would be the deepest fall of all the
   falls that could betide. May He who alone can give, and alone can work,
   grant to us thus to yield up our hearts in stillness and in peace to
   Him."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XX

WORK

   IT has sometimes happened, even in these busy days, that there are
   dreamy people who would hail such words as these with a joy that
   springs, however little they may know it, from their fallen nature. The
   Lord has given them, it may be, some moments of His presence, and
   because they cannot but know that such moments are worth, as the Master
   said, a year of the labour and toil of man, they begin to despise and
   neglect the common, it may be the low and earthly work, the Lord has
   given them to do.

   Or more commonly they despise it in their neighbours.

   For such people are generally to be found amongst those who are not
   obliged to earn their bread, or to be at the beck and call of others.
   And if they cannot deny that the poor have to earn their living, or
   that a wife, or a daughter, or a mother must of necessity be at the
   service of others, they pity such people, and feel assured that they
   must be less spiritual, and have less communion with God, than if they
   could have all the day their own, and no need to be busy.

   And in their inmost hearts they are apt to think of themselves as Mary,
   sitting at the feet of the Lord, whilst the poor neighbour at her wash
   tub, or the mother with her children, are Marthas who have failed to
   choose the better part.

   Such "worm-eaten people," as the Master would say, were assuredly to be
   found in the city of Strasburg five hundred years ago. For the Master
   found that it was needful to explain, in very homely words, that he by
   no means intended his dear children to sit down and do nothing, and
   imagine themselves to be thereby more holy and more spiritual.

   That which he desired them to understand was this -- that great works
   done for God are a very different thing from works great and small
   which God does by us. And if the natural heart is busy or idle, it
   matters not, it is always ready to pride itself upon the one or the
   other. But if we yield ourselves to God, it does not follow that He
   will do nothing by us. He may do a great work, or a very small one,
   which seems low and common.

   "Sometimes," said the Master, "the Holy Ghost does great and marvellous
   things, in and by His friends in whom He dwells. He made some to be
   great prophets, and some to be martyrs, but great works such as these
   are not needed at all times. There are diversities of gifts, but the
   same Spirit, and different ministries, but the same Spirit worketh all
   in all. Children, you see with your eyes, that one body has many
   members, and various senses, and each one has its own work. None can do
   the work of the other, nor can any be what God has made the other to
   be.

   "So are we, dear children, if we have that true and living faith
   (which, however, some people called Christians have as little of as
   heathens or Jews). For those who have believed are one Body in Christ
   -- and each one a different member. One is an eye, and one an ear, one
   a foot, and one a hand. And some are members that have small and common
   work to do, but the small and common work is needful also.

   "Now, dear children, it may be God has given you only common work. One
   has to spin, and another to make shoes, and some are clever, and some
   are stupid. God gives to all the gift for the work He gives them to do.
   If I had not been called to minister among you, and were one of the
   working men of the town, I should be very thankful to the Lord if He
   made me able to be a shoemaker. It should be a pleasure to us to earn
   our bread with our own hands.

   "Children, if you are only feet or hands, do not aim at being eyes. Let
   every one do the work the Lord gives; very common rough work it may be.
   He knows how to give the fit work to each.

   "Our sisters, too, they have their own work given them by the Lord, and
   their own gifts. To some He gives a sweet and tuneful voice, let such
   sing psalms. Some have smaller gifts, but no good gift is so small that
   it can come from any but God. And it is a great and precious gift of
   God that some can do for others that which the others cannot do. If
   there is one of you who is of no use to his neighbours, that man will
   have to account to God for his useless life. For God gives to each
   member something which the other members have not, in order that each
   may be for the good of all.

   "And yet how comes it that I hear so many grumbling and complaining
   that their common daily work is a hindrance to them? You may be quite
   sure that the work the Lord gives you, He does not give in order to
   hinder you. Whence comes that lamentation over it? And how comes it you
   have conscientious objections to doings it?

   "Dear children, be sure it is not your work that is the hindrance, but
   your discontent, and the want of a single eye in all that you do.

   "If you did your work, as you ought to do it, for the Lord, and not for
   yourselves -- if you neither aimed at pleasing yourselves, nor
   mortifying yourselves, but did it simply for the Lord, fearing Him and
   loving Him alone, you would never have a reproachful conscience at
   being obliged to do common things.

   "If you are a spiritual man, be ashamed only of doings your work badly,
   or not simply and honestly for the Lord.

   "The Lord never reproved Martha for her work, for it was a holy and
   good work; He reproved her only because she was doing it in a careful
   and anxious manner. We should take the work just as God gives it, and
   commit it all to Him, and do it quietly and with a restful heart, and
   be sure that we are doing it to Him. Let us work or rest, just as He
   desires it, and be at peace either way.

   "If you meet with any old helpless infirm man, there is a call from God
   to go and help him, and we should vie with one another in doing such
   works of love, and in bearing one another's burdens. If you do not, be
   sure God will take the work from you, and give it to another, who will
   do it gladly, and the loss will be yours.

   "But there are a good many amongst you who would like to be rid of all
   these common works of helping and serving others. You would like to be
   all eyes, and neither hands nor feet. You would like to be beholding
   high things, instead of doing low things.

   "That comes, dear children, from laziness.

   "I know a man, the dearest it may be of the friends of God. He has
   worked in the fields all his life, more than forty years, and there he
   is working still. This man once asked the Lord if he should give up his
   work, and go and sing and pray in the church, But the Lord answered,
   No, he should earn his bread by the sweat of his brow, and feel it an
   honour to do so.

   "Yet you should each of you make sure of a certain time in the course
   of the day for simple and still and peaceful communion with the Lord.
   One can do this best in one way, another in another way. We ought to
   find at least a good hour for such intercourse with God, and turn it to
   account in the way which we find most profitable, for we are not all
   eyes, and different things help different people. But in any case it
   should be without images, or forms, or any outside things. The heart
   should turn simply to God.

   "If you are serving God according to His desires, He will remember your
   desires; but if you are serving God according to your own desires, He
   will answer to it by carrying out His own, which may be very contrary
   to yours.

   "But men, with their scrap of wisdom, are always thinking that they
   could manage matters better than the Lord, and choose out the right
   work for themselves and others, better than He can. Sometimes people
   ask me when they come to confess, what they are to do, but I am not a
   judge of that, I can only look to the Lord about it, and if He does not
   tell me, I say, Dear children, go to the Lord yourselves, and He will
   tell you.'

   "Yet we are often apt to judge one another, and say one should be doing
   this and another that, just as it seems good in our own eyes. Yes, our
   own wisdom is one of the worms and maggots I have told you of before,
   that eat up the plants in the Lord's garden.

   "Some people say this is all a part of the new-fangled teaching of
   these days, and only because they never heard a thing before, they cast
   it aside, not considering that it is not wonderful if the hidden wisdom
   of God is indeed a new thing to them.

   "Dear children, if we do not take now, day by day, the work the Lord
   gives us, we shall never do it at all, and we shall suffer eternal
   loss.

   "May He grant us to be faithful and honest in doing the work He gives,
   and doing it as His Spirit teaches each one for himself, and to His
   praise and honour.

   "Under the old covenant the Levites carried the ark, but now the ark
   carries us -- He who is the Ark of the new Covenant bears us and
   carries us with all our sorrows, and all our sufferings. The Lord
   Himself it is who bends His shoulders beneath our burdens, and
   therefore, dear children, to us the burden is light.

   "And if you have to sit at home and mend shoes, or go out to work in
   the fields all day to support your wives and children, if only your
   heart is with the blessed Lord, your souls will be a hundred times
   better off than many of the spiritual people who neglect their
   callings.

   "Poor, blind, spiritual man! whoever you are who may hear these words,
   set to work in good earnest at the task God gives you, and take it from
   Him, and let not your heart wander off after something higher. And then
   it will no longer be your work, but God's work, whatever it may be. And
   to those who thus give themselves restfully to God, He shows Himself at
   all moments, and draws their hearts very near to Himself.

   "Swiftly, as the lightning flashes -- more swiftly yet, even as an
   angel flies, does the light of God shine forth, down into the depths of
   the soul. The more swiftly, the more is it glorious and sweet. And
   those who have known this, are the true worshippers of God, who worship
   the Father in the Spirit and in truth.

   "And to them all natural things of this world have become poor and
   empty, for that which their soul loveth is not there, and they wonder
   and say -- Where are now all my bowings before the altar, and my
   services, and my penances? Why is my prayer-book lying idle on the
   shelf?'

   "For before that moment came, they loved to have something, they loved
   to know something and they loved to will something; and now, all that
   would be gain to themselves is as nothing to them, and the burdens are
   gone, and the eternal joy is theirs already.

   "In the stillness of the night they delight their souls in God, and
   cast into the unfathomable depths of God their cares and sins and
   sorrows, asking for nothing but resting and joying in His love. But it
   might be at such a moment the Lord would call them to go and nurse a
   sick neighbour, and they would leave the rest and gladness, to go
   forth, and yet be glad to go. And the Lord would then give them more in
   this outward service, than He gave them in the stillness and the rest
   before."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXI

THE RELIGION OF MAN

   IT is not strange that many of these things were new to the people of
   Strasburg, and some of the priests and the "devout women" were fully
   persuaded that the doctor had become a heretic.

   "In ancient times," he said, "God's saints were murdered and persecuted
   by Jews and heathens, but now, dear children, prepare yourselves to be
   martyred by people who seem very holy, and do many more works than you
   do. They will tell you, you are all in the wrong, and they have seen
   and heard and learnt much more than you, and that you know nothing at
   all. That touches you to the quick -- but keep quiet, set a watch upon
   yourselves, and be silent. Speak only to the Lord, and say, Dear Lord,
   Thou knowest well I seek only to please Thee.' But do not expect to
   please others, for many will condemn and judge you, if you do not
   follow all the outside religion to which they pin their faith.

   "You have seen the fields harrowed and smoothed, after the seed has
   been put in. Now just so do many people smooth down and harrow their
   souls with confessions and penances and religious doings, but the evil
   roots of noisome weeds are left untouched below, and as the seed
   springs up, the weeds spring up too, and choke and spoil the good seed.
   The pride, and the uncleanness, and the hatred, and envy, and anger,
   and many another weed, come up thick and strong, and the blessed fruit,
   and the fresh life of the plants of God, are spoiled and smothered.

   "This is just the history of many of those old fathers who went to live
   in the woods, and exercised themselves with all sorts of penances and
   holy works, for thirty or forty years, and yet never reached down to
   the roots of the noisome weeds; and therefore at the end of all their
   performances, they were but a display of all that is evil."

   But the Master took no heed to the anger of the "religious" people of
   whom he spoke, and as time went on, he spoke out more strongly and
   plainly.

   "The work of the Holy Ghost in the souls of men can be hindered," he
   said, "in various ways. The first great hindrance is self-will and the
   love of created things.

   "The next are the seven Sacraments. People are taken up with outward
   signs and symbols, and thereby a veil is drawn between their hearts and
   the inward truths of God. The worship of God is spiritual at all times
   and in all places, as S. Paul says he would that men prayed everywhere,
   and in all things gave thanks.

   "Another hindrance is, that even good men look at divine and spiritual
   things in a carnal way -- they have natural and fleshly thoughts of the
   Lord Jesus, and think much of visions, and represent to themselves the
   Lord Jesus, or the angels, in some bodily shape of their own imagining"
   (it could indeed scarcely be otherwise where crucifixes abound), "and
   work themselves up to think they are specially favoured by God because
   of these workings of their imagination, and a love for Christ which is
   the excitement of natural feeling. Therefore the Lord said to His
   disciples, It is good for you that I go away, for they knew Him after
   the flesh, and thus even the presence of His blessed manhood had become
   a hindrance to them.

   "People are, notwithstanding, satisfied and proud when they have let
   their natural hearts occupy themselves with the things of God. I am
   always thinking,' they will say, about the Lord, how He stood before
   Pilate and Herod, and was scourged,' and so on.

   "Dear children, whoever you may be who are thus taken up with your
   feelings, remember that He of whom you speak is not a man only, but the
   great and mighty God, who created all things, and upholds them with the
   word of His power, and that He became as nothing for your sins, and
   therefore let the thought of His sufferings lay you low in the dust
   before Him with shame and sorrow.

   "Oh, how little fruit has the blessed and glorious suffering of the
   Lord brought forth in men! Even the remembrance of it can fill the
   heart with pride, and with self! You hear people talk of these deep
   things of God, just as if they had flown up into the highest heaven,
   and have yet never taken one single step out of their own wretched
   selves!

   "How many are there who will stand there, clothed in shame, when all
   things are made manifest, who pass now for the spiritual and the holy!
   They will wish then they had never heard of these high and deep and
   holy things, nor had gained to themselves a great name amongst
   religious people -- they will wish then that they had spent their days
   rather in herding cattle in the fields, and working in the sweat of
   their brow! How little do they know that their spirituality is but
   sense and nature!

   "They talk of the dear Lord Jesus,' and His birth and death, and are
   filled with an enjoyment which they think is of God, or they weep tears
   over the sufferings and the cross of Christ, but all these things pass
   smoothly through their souls, as a ship through the Rhine, and leave no
   trace behind. For their love is a love of the enjoyment of their own
   feelings, and not a love of God. Outside things have touched their
   hearts, and the inner truth has never reached them. But natural love,
   and divine love, look often so much alike, it is more than easy to
   mistake the one for the other."

   Yes, how can we know the one from the other?

   Master Tauler tells us this also. "If it is natural love and
   enjoyment," he says, "such a man will drag himself away with a great
   effort from the things of the world. But if it is divine love, the
   things of the world will drop off, and he will despise them, and they
   will become to him nauseous and loathsome. It will be as though he can
   see no longer, for the glory of the light that has shone down upon him,
   for the natural eye is darkened by the radiance of the glory.

   "And when this has happened to a man it does not exalt him, but casts
   him down, and he fades away as it were into his own nothingness. Thus
   can we know that it was the light of God.

   "And therefore, dear children, it is exactly contrary to the
   spirituality of the natural heart, for that hoists people up to a
   wondrous height in their own self-satisfaction and self-conceit, and
   makes them look down on others from this giddy height, and they say
   they are above this one or that one -- this thing or that. Remember,
   dear children, a godly man never talks of being above any person or
   thing, however small or mean, but when it is God who has raised him up
   above the things below, he loves and honours more than before, those
   whom he loved and honoured for natural reasons; for he sees himself
   less than the least, and above none.

   "Neither does he despise the body, which is the work of God, or
   anything that God has made. You see people tormenting the poor body,
   and leaving the evil flesh untouched. What has the poor body done, that
   you should torture it? Such people are trying to break through stone
   walls with their heads. They break their heads and leave the wall
   standing. They may shut themselves up in convents, and have their
   hearts wandering all over the world after the things that perish.

   "And, on the other hand, you may find people at the great yearly market
   in the town, with buying and selling, and all sorts of din and noise
   all round them, and yet they have their hearts so shut in with the
   Lord, in peace and rest, that nothing disturbs or distracts them.

   "That is the best convent to live in, the blessed convent of communion
   with God, whereas some closed in by stone walls could not keep their
   thoughts from wandering for two minutes.

   "But because they do the works which men can see with their eyes,
   people praise them, and hold them up as examples. And thus they become
   quite convinced themselves that they are holy and good, and they have a
   false peace and rest of heart, and no sense of sin to trouble them. But
   if from time to time their consciences are awakened, they think of the
   penances they have done, and count over their good works, till they are
   more proud and vain than they were before.

   "They do not understand that what they need is to be converted.

   "And at times when they fall into sin and feel uneasy, they give way to
   self-indulgences to raise their spirits; but the next day you may find
   them doing penance again, for they do not want to lose their good name
   before men.

   "Or to ease their consciences, they will talk about the things of God,
   and look out texts which may give them comfort, turning away from those
   which would warn and convict them. And thus they again gain for
   themselves a peace and rest that are not of God.

   "But conscience may be put to sleep for a time, and then it is sure to
   wake and trouble them afresh, and they are beset with fleshly
   temptations to covetousness, and uncleanness, and laziness, and such
   like. Then they think to themselves, they are thus beset, in order that
   they may make a valiant stand, and win for themselves crowns of victory
   at last. And for a while they fight with the temptations, but little by
   little they give way, because the flesh is too strong for them, and the
   end is, they give themselves up hopelessly to the lusts of the flesh,
   to eating and drinking, and gadding about, and amusing themselves.

   "But for the sake of their good name they keep themselves from
   disgraceful crimes; and they keep up religious services, which in their
   hearts they hate, for they are utterly wearied of them. They have
   become just like the men of the world around them.

   "So, dear children, the guilty conscience may find rest, which is a
   false rest, in two ways. It may be stifled with pleasures of the world,
   or it may be puffed up by abstaining from pleasures, and suffering
   penances, till the man is convinced that he is highly esteemed by God,
   and that he is standing on a pinnacle from whence he can look down on
   all the people who are not like himself, and in fact upon all people,
   for he is in his own eyes spiritual, and the rest are low and carnal;
   he is doing all sorts of holy works and penances, and they are livings
   like common men and women.

   "All this while, however, notwithstanding their good opinion of
   themselves, the fear of hell is gnawing at their hearts. Because they
   are trusting in themselves, and not in God, they are afraid of Him, and
   therefore cannot love Him, and they take every trouble He sends them as
   a dire misfortune which they have never deserved.

   "To quench the fear of hell, they count up their good deeds, and yet
   they are always in fear and darkness, though they believe at the same
   time God is greatly their debtor. Yes, a man may be as proud of a
   wooden walking-stick as of a jewelled sword.

   "And at last, after all this, the Lord in His grace, who loves them as
   a tender mother loves her child; who knows the mortal sickness of their
   souls, as a wise physician who cannot be deceived -- the Lord, in His
   great mercy, ofttimes opens their blind eyes, and then they fall down
   and say, My sins are more in number than the sand of the sea, I have
   sinned against Heaven and before Thee,' and the grief and agony of
   their souls are such that words cannot tell them.

   "And it is then, dear children, that they are near to the door of the
   Lord's great grace, and He welcomes them into the bride-chamber of His
   beloved Son. He heals and binds up the wounds of the broken-hearted. He
   fills them with His joy, with the riches of His consolation.

   "Dear children, when this has happened to a man, when he has been
   brought into the gladness and the glory of that wedding-feast, of that
   high festival, then to him are earthly festivals amongst the things
   that are past away. He rejoices no more in Christmas nor in Easter, nor
   in any feast-day in the calendar, but he rejoices every day in the high
   festival of God's marvellous and surpassing love. Whatever day of the
   year it may be, in that day all festivals meet, and are complete with
   the fulness of joy."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXII

REST

   THE Master had much to say to his beloved children about this festival
   of God. It was of this that he delighted to tell them. Whilst the
   pestilence, and the war, and the persecution of Rome, were desolating
   the city, Master Tauler dwelt in the gladness of the bridal chamber,
   and told to the weary and sorrowful around him, the things that he had
   seen and heard. And thus it came to pass that many entered in, and
   found themselves in that inner chamber of rest, and peace, and joy, and
   to them "the curse causeless came not," but passed as a bird that
   wanders, and a swallow that flies, far above the heads of men.

   Meanwhile they feasted with Him they loved, in the banqueting-hall of
   His joy, and when Master Tauler preached and spoke of the blessed
   feast, they well understood him, and rejoiced with him.

   "It is called a supper," the Master said, "and thus in truth it is. For
   after supper follows no other meal, nor doth there follow any work
   more, but rest only. And this let us well consider. For in the
   supper-chamber the rest cometh for the heart and mind, rest to all the
   being, rest from work and toil (Heb. iv. 10), rest where all things
   find their rest, rest in God, for in Him is rest eternal. Then is there
   no more work to do, and there is no meal to follow, for the soul is
   satisfied."

   "No more work to do! to sit still, and dream away the time?"

   "To sit still and dream away the time, is the rest," said the Master,
   "of the natural man, and such a rest, a rest of emptiness and idleness,
   is no rest to the godly man. But the holy rest and stillness which the
   soul has found in God, is a sweet and blessed seclusion, the secret
   place of the Most High, where the soul beholds in simple adoration the
   inconceivable glory of God.

   "This rest attracts and draws the soul at all times with a longing that
   is deep within, and it is found not in idleness, but in the activity of
   following the Lord; and in burning love is it eternally possessed, and
   when it is possessed it is sought after all the more.

   "But the mere rest from work, sought after for its own sake, a heathen
   or a Jew can find and love. And this natural rest is not in itself
   sinful, but to sinful man it is a snare and a danger, and because it
   may be mistaken for rest in God, it oftentimes puffs up the heart with
   pride and vanity.

   "But in the rest of God, it is thus we speak, as said S. Augustine of
   old, O Lord, when I turn to Thee, with all the desire of my soul, I am
   emptied of myself, and for me there is no more any labour nor any
   burden, and my life is filled with Thee, and Thou dwellest in me, and
   givest me to drink of Thy love, so that I forget all sorrow and pain.'

   "And so is it said in the Holy Scripture, I held Him, and would not let
   Him go, until I had brought Him into my mother's house, and into the
   chamber of rest.'

   "O children, the soul has at times more love than it can understand,
   for love enters into the inner chambers, whilst the understandings
   stays without, and cannot follow within. And there does the soul hear
   the voice of the Beloved, and is melted in His love. And as the gold or
   silver that take the form of the vessel wherein they are melted, so is
   the soul shaped into the form of the love of the heart of Christ.

   "So doth S. Paul speak of it, when he says that God has chosen us to be
   conformed to the image of His Son, for our God is a consuming fire of
   love.

   "And when the soul is thus melted in the furnace of His love, and rests
   and is still in Him, then is it given to us to know that we are one
   with Him, and changed into the same image, from glory to glory, so that
   we can speak to Him and say, I have nothing more of my own; but Thou
   and I, O Lord, have but one house, one heritage, one table, one seat,
   one bed of rest.'

   "Then only can we be faithful witnesses for Him, for the truest witness
   is that God is all, and there is none beside.

   "It is the man who dwells in the secret place, in the Paradise of God,
   who is in himself nothing, for he is lost and swallowed up in God. And
   that which there he sees and hears, the glory and the sweetness, he can
   tell to none, for it is beyond all words, and all thoughts, and all
   understanding, it is God Himself.

   "But from that high place (mark this, dear children) the soul looks
   down with careful thought to the small and low things with which it has
   to do down here, to see whether they cannot bring forth more fruit to
   the praise of God.

   "Thus the man of faith, who is delivered from himself, hangs as it were
   between heaven above and earth beneath. For his spiritual life is lived
   in heaven, high above himself and all things here -- it is hidden in
   God at all times, all day long; but his bodily life is lived in the
   lowest place, for he is humbled beneath all around him on the earth
   below. And yet he is not dragged down in his spirit by the lowest and
   the meanest work. He has peace at all times, and everywhere, in doings
   and refraining, in loving and in suffering, in spiritual things and
   natural things. And thus he is a true witness of our Lord Jesus Christ,
   who, humbled Himself, and took the lowest place on earth below, and is
   sitting now far above all heavens in rest and glory.

   "But if it is to the things down here the heart is cleaving, we cannot
   know this rest in God.

   "Dear children, with all our hearts and souls must we enter in to that
   high festival of eternal joy, and leave behind the low things of this
   passing world. We must do as Abraham did of old; he left below the
   servants and the ass, and he went with his son, high up on the mountain
   to God. For this we are answerable; for the will of the new man is set
   in command, as the prince over his country, as the father over his
   house. And this princely will leads ever up, above the earth to God."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SUMMER FIELDS

   "LET us search and try our ways," the Master said another time. "Let us
   set in order and judge our ways and doings, lest there should be in any
   of them some aim and object which is not God. We should do, dear
   children, as the husbandman does in March. When he sees that the sun
   begins to shine forth, he clips and cuts his trees, and digs up his
   ground, and turns over the soil with toil and care.

   "Thus should a man with earnest care turn over the soil of his heart,
   and clip and prune the trees of his outward senses, and root out from
   the soil all useless weeds that draw the nourishment from the ground.

   "How thickly do such weeds spring up! Pride of outward things, and
   pride of spiritual things. Covetousness, hatred, envy, and many more,
   uncleanness of heart, and laziness that hides itself here and there
   under a fair covering -- all these things should he confess and condemn
   in his heart before God.

   "Yet when he has done this, it is as the fields in March -- the sun is
   shining, but the great warmth of the sun is not gone forth as yet, and
   the ground is cold and hard.

   "But the summer follows soon, and the Sun of the Face of God shines
   down apace upon the bare and empty field. The sun, the sweet full
   sunshine, strikes down into the soil, and then cometh a gladsome
   summer, and fair fresh flowers of May spring up, and all is green, and
   the blossoms unfold, that are to turn to fruit at last. And no tongue
   can tell, and no heart can conceive, how great the joy and bliss that
   make summer in the soul where the Holy Ghost abides.

   "For He in His great glory, and in His sweetness and in His joy, fills
   all the soul with the delight of God. He is, and He is called, the
   blessed Comforter, and thus is He found to be to the soul that is His
   home.

   "Oh, how great and high is the feast He maketh there! Then is the
   festival spread out, and the odours of the spices and of the pleasant
   fruits are so sweet, that the soul longs yet the more, and the May time
   and the flowers are there, and the joy is poured out till every vessel
   is filled and runneth over, for the Holy Ghost gives richly, and gives
   sweetly, to the guests around His table.

   "O children, one only drop of that comfort, drunk by one soul alone,
   surpasseth far, and extinguisheth utterly, all delight and sweetness
   that all created things can give.

   "What should we do, dear children, when God has given to us this
   blessedness and rest? For there are some who afterwards rest in their
   enjoyment, and trust in it, so that they become careless and
   unfaithful, and seek after joy, rather than after God.

   "And when the enemy sees that it is thus with us, he pours into our
   souls a false delight and sweetness, that he may pacify our hearts with
   that which is not God.

   "What then should we do? Should we cease to yield ourselves up to this
   rest and sweetness? No, in no wise. We should receive it with the
   deepest thankfulness, and offer it up as a sweet odour to God in
   humility of heart, and praise Him for it, and own ourselves unworthy of
   it. And then as one who runs upon a message, so should we do. It may be
   such an one has run four miles, and feels the need of food and drink.
   And when he has eaten and been refreshed, he is so glad and strong
   again, that he can run ten miles more. Thus should the man press
   forward, whom God has thus fed and strengthened with His blessed
   comfort and delight. He should serve more actively than ever before, he
   should love more, and thank more, and praise more, and long more than
   ever before after God, with a burning love and deep desire, so that God
   may still his longing with yet deeper consolation and fulness of
   delight.

   "For it will be with him as with one who brings a crown piece to
   another man, and the man runs to meet him, and gives him in return a
   hundred thousand pounds of gold. For as often as he turns to God in
   love and thankfulness, God runneth in His love to meet him, and giveth
   him a hundred thousand times more grace and comfort in each moment that
   follows.

   "And thus the sweetness of the joy will lead us into yet further depths
   of the heart of God. Just as one who has to go on a journey, and he
   gets into a cart which is for use, and not for enjoyment. The gifts of
   God should be to us as the cart, and the enjoyment should we find in
   God alone.

   "For there is a depth of glory and of gladness in the heavenly place,
   where dwells the sweetness of which I have been telling you, for ever
   and for ever. There is the heart so still, so real, and so solemnised,
   and ever more and more secluded, and ever further drawn into the inner
   chambers of God, and therefore more simple, more satisfied, and more
   free, as regards all outward things.

   "For God is in that secret place of joy, and it is He who acts, and
   rules, and fills the house with Himself. And there does the soul
   breathe the life of God, and passes into the light and into the warmth
   of the Spirit, who is the radiance and the glory, and walks in the
   burning furnace of love, the love that is God Himself.

   "And it is from this love and glory that such an one goes forth into
   the sorrow and need of the house of God below, with holy prayers and
   desires for that which God desires for all. And he will return again to
   the rest above, and thence look down upon the sorrowing and suffering
   saints of God.

   "Thus goeth he in and out, and yet is evermore within, in the still and
   lovely place, for there is his life and being, and thence the spring of
   all he works and does.

   "Dear children, when once a man is become as nothing before God, when
   he is delivered from himself, so that he is nothing, and hath nothing,
   then through this time of loss and sorrow, he enters into the
   surpassing joy. For it is sorrow and suffering to a man to be stripped
   and emptied of all, and to learn through tribulation and temptation
   what it is to rest in God alone. But had we to give up a thousand
   worlds, all would be as nothing to the joy of God.

   "Did not the dear saints of old suffer and die with gladness and
   delight, for they had the comfort of God in their inmost souls, and for
   Him they counted all as bliss? For, children, there is no true pain,
   nor sorrow for the man who dwells in God. No sorrow here, no hell to
   come, for the eternal God could as soon forsake Himself as forsake the
   heavenly man.

   "And therefore if all the sorrow of the world were to come upon this
   man, it could not harm him, and it would be to him as though it were
   not, for even sorrow to him would be joy and sweetness.

   "For heaven is begun for those who dwell in God; there do they walk,
   and there is their eternal Home; they need but to set the other foot,
   which is still in this world below, in the land of life eternal, for
   the eternal life is theirs already. It has begun now, and it lasts for
   evermore.

   "For they have entered in through the one true door, through Jesus
   Christ our Lord -- they have entered into life eternal, and into the
   depths of the Father's love. Then do they go in and out, and find
   unfading pasture, and to them are the words fulfilled which the Lord
   has spoken through His prophets of olden time, I will feed My sheep,
   and I will cause them to lie down, saith the Lord God.'

   "And there, dear children, the rest and the work are one."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXIV

THE CAUSE AND THE EFFECT

   IT is true that the Master had never learnt, as we learn now, many
   blessed truths of the New Testament. Even Nicholas, could he have been
   questioned by well-taught Christians of these days, would have given
   very many incorrect answers.

   And yet at the bottom it might be found that the Master and Nicholas
   had received the same truths which we are now taught, but with this
   difference: we are taught in the first place to believe the actual
   facts that God has done this, or that, in the work of our redemption,
   quite apart from the practical effect of it in ourselves. The "Friends
   of God" learnt from Scripture the practical effect, and judged thereby
   of the work of God.

   For instance, we are taught that the Holy Ghost united all believers to
   the Lord, on the day of Pentecost, and that from that day to this, the
   Holy Ghost thus joins to the Lord every one who believes in Him, and
   that this is equally true of believers who are walking consistently or
   inconsistently.

   We are also taught that God regards the believer as one who has died,
   and is risen again to die no more. That is to say, that he reckons the
   death of Christ as our death, because it was in our place, as our
   substitute, that He died. And therefore the guilty sinner is regarded
   by God as dead, for guilt no longer rests upon the head of him who has
   believed in Jesus; and the new man, alive with the life of Christ, and
   joined to Christ by the Holy Ghost, stands before God in Christ, not
   only free from all spot and stain, but one with Christ, and loved with
   the love wherewith the Father loves Him. And this again we know (to our
   shame) is true of all who believe, whether walking consistently with so
   wonderful a place before God, or alas, as too often, inconsistently.

   Yet it is true that notwithstanding all our inconsistencies, there is
   always to be found, more or less, in the life and walk of a believer,
   that which is the consequence of the great work of the Lord Jesus, and
   of the gift of the Holy Ghost. And this consequence, love to God, who
   first so loved us, is found in the life and walk of all those, who,
   though ignorant of much truth, have received by faith God's great
   gifts. The saints of the fourteenth century had not as clear a
   knowledge of the great facts upon which our salvation rests, nor of our
   perfect acceptance in Christ, as we now have, if we have been well
   taught in the Scriptures.

   We are taught that we are dead, and that our life is hid with Christ in
   God. The true practical effect (which, alas, we overlook so often) is,
   that we reckon ourselves as dead, and no longer feed the flesh, or give
   way to the desires of the old man, but have our joys and interests in
   heaven above.

   And as the practical effect is also the work of God, we find that these
   dear saints of old were led into the sense and the enjoyment of that
   which God had done for them, and consequently walked in holiness of
   life, no longer loving the world, nor serving the flesh, but following
   the voice of the Beloved, and delighting in His presence. And they
   judged by the effect of the cause. We know the cause, and too often
   think little of the effect.

   We find too a great difference between such writings as those which go
   by the name of Thomas a Kempis, and the writings of the Friends of God,
   who had drawn their water nearer to the fountain-head, from the
   teaching of the ancient Waldensian "Brethren."

   That life in God, and walk with God which is spoken of by the author of
   the "Imitation of Christ," as an attainment, won by mortifications and
   effort, is spoken of by Tauler and by other "Friends of God," as an
   unmerited gift of grace, never to be attained by penances and
   mortifications, but on the contrary making such efforts to cease, and
   to be cast aside, as the work of man, which hinders the work of God,
   who alone worketh in us, to will and to do, of His good pleasure.

   Let us listen to Master Tauler as to this matter also. "If God speaks,
   let the soul be still and hearken. It is not doing that helps here, but
   ceasing to do. And it is this which is hard to us and painful. To be as
   dead and gone, by the power of the death of Christ.

   "Yes, dear children, the sacrament itself is a hindrance to you, for
   all that you regard as a help and stay, only hinders you from feeling
   that you are nothing, and can do nothing.

   "But your reason will start up, and say there must be something of
   which you are to make a prop and stay, and will tell you you are idle,
   and negligent, you ought to be up and doing. Why are you sittings here
   doing nothing? Go and pray. Be off, you are wasting your time -- do
   this good work or that.'

   "And then come untaught men, who are full of their own doings, and say,
   Dear man, why do you sit here idle? Go and hear some preaching. Bestir
   yourself! Go to the sacrament.' Make sure, children, that you do not go
   to the sacrament as a step up to God!

   "I tell you if you came thus to me, and told me you wanted to receive
   the sacrament, I should speak to you and say, Who sent you here? was it
   God, or was it your natural heart that wanted a prop? or was it habit?'

   "Dear children, do not misunderstand me. I do not mean that to hear the
   preaching of God's Word, or to go to the Lord's Supper, are thing
   forbidden to believing people. But I do say they are hindrances, and
   not helps, if you make of them a ground to stand on before God -- a
   prop or a stay.

   "Nature would much rather go on a pilgrimage to Rome, than be cast
   wholly and entirely on God.

   "Therefore I say, if you depend on these things, it is just as much as
   if you turned your back upon God, and said to Him, I will not depend
   upon Thee, I will go elsewhere to find that which my soul needs.'

   "It is just the same as if the Lord had never been crucified for you,
   in order that He might do the glorious work for you and in you.

   "O children, could you but cease from doings, and let go the last prop
   and the last stay, where would it land you? How blessed is the end of
   the man who is cast only on the Lord! How blessed is the proof of this
   in Paul the Apostle!

   "For he was taught the truth, unveiled and glorious, in the one true
   school, the third Heaven above. There did he see and gaze upon the
   Truth Himself, and beholding Him, he learned from His lips, and thus he
   says, We are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as
   by the Spirit of the Lord!'

   "For it is as S. Augustine taught, when the Lord revealed this truth to
   him, Thou shalt be changed into Mine image, it is not that I was
   changed into thine.'

   "What is this change? Those men know it who have experienced it, and
   none besides. It may come to a man in a moment, as a veil suddenly
   lifted which shows the glory within, and the blessed vision of the
   glory is the gift of God, without any deserving on our part.

   "He gives it freely of His own pure grace, and those who have known it,
   and have entered into the secret chamber, can feel it, but cannot tell
   it, for it is unspeakable."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXV

THE FULL MEASURE

   "DO not be afraid," the Master said another time, "to let go all else,
   and to cast away all that is less than God. We should be as men who are
   asleep to all light and sweetness that is not the Lord Himself. Let the
   wisdom and the folly of this world go, for they are of the things that
   pass away.

   "It was needful to the disciples that they should lose even the blessed
   company of the Lord Himself -- for they were to be transformed into a
   higher nature, taken out of themselves, and they were to leave
   themselves, as it were, behind. Thus does S. Paul say, Forgetting the
   things that are behind, and pressing forward to the things that are
   before,' for it is with a high calling that we are called, and all that
   is less and lower than that beauty and that glory, must drop off and be
   left behind.

   "It is when we are emptied of ourselves, dear children, that the Lord
   comes with the measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running
   over, and pours Himself into the measure; for nothing short of that
   will satisfy His love, and then does the measure run over indeed with
   the goodness and the sweetness that He the Lord is, evermore; and far
   and wide there spreads the overflowing tide, and yet the measure
   remaineth ever full.

   "For it is as if you plunged a bowl into the unfathomable sea, it would
   be filled, and would flow over, and yet it ever would be full. For the
   Lord gives Himself to the soul in an overflowing tide beyond all that
   it can ask or think.

   "And it is to the emptied and the hungry that thus He comes, as it is
   written of the King Ahasuerus, who saw the beloved Esther pale and
   trembling, and who saw that her spirit sank within her. Then did he
   hold out his golden sceptre, and he rose up from his royal throne, and
   he embraced her, and gave her the kiss of love, and he promised her to
   give her even the half of his kingdom, that she might share it with
   him.

   "Thus so is it with the Father in Heaven, when He sees His beloved ones
   standing before Him, pale and sorrowful, desolate and uncomforted. Then
   quickly does He hold forth His golden sceptre, and rises up from His
   throne, so to speak, and He comes forward with the divine embrace and
   kiss, and He lifts up the mourning soul above all sorrow and fear, into
   the arms of His love.

   "What passeth then, think you, dear children, what wonder passeth in
   the soul He loves? He gives His only begotten Son in that touch of the
   golden sceptre, and in the sweetness of His kiss He gives the blessed,
   and the marvellous delight of the Holy Spirit the Comforter. He shares
   His kingdom, so to speak, with that soul He loves, for He gives her
   power over Heaven and earth, yea, power over herself, and that she
   should be set above the things that He has made and that He rules, and
   the power that is His by nature is hers by grace.

   "So doth the measure overflow that in due time it will be seen that all
   creation shall be filled with the Glory that He gives His own. Were
   there not in Christendom these beloved friends of God, the world would
   not stand for an hour, for their works are the works that far surpass
   the busy works of all Christendom beside. God it is who works the works
   in men such as these, and therefore there are no works to be measured
   against the works they do, for the works of God are high above all
   works of men.

   "So full and deep is the measure of their joy, that it passes all the
   sense, and all the understanding, of angels and of men -- peace and
   delight eternal. And thus does S. Paul speak of it, of this true and
   blessed peace.

   "Dear children, to walk with God is not a fearful and a hard thing, as
   some of you imagine. But there is only one path to walk in. In other
   paths you may come to a knowledge of God which is by reason; but red
   copper, though at times it looks like gold, is yet not gold, but copper
   only.

   "No, dear children, there are many religious ways and doings, but only
   one way to the living God. That man would be a great fool who planted
   his vineyard behind a mountain, where the sun could never reach it. And
   he would also be a fool, who, when he desired to see the sun, should
   turn his back to it, and his face the other way.

   "Amongst a hundred men who desire to pass for good and Christian men,
   scarcely will you find one who has turned simply and wholly and only,
   to Him who is the living Truth. They are content to live in lower
   things.

   "And so it is with them as with some rude peasant who is not fit to be
   the companion of a king, nor to be with him in his secret chamber. Far
   less are the full, and the rich, and the outwardly religious men fit to
   be there, where the friends of God abide eternally in Him.

   "But the friends of God are anchored in the stillness of His rest, and
   the waves of outward things can never reach them there. He has given to
   them a jewel that is a secret sign and pledge, a peace so deep and so
   divine, that none can understand it, saving he who hath it. And in the
   anchored ship the Lord is sitting, and thence He teaches those who
   stand upon the shore. Thus does God, through the men who have found
   Him, teach and guide the world below.

   "It is a way of sorrow, children, that leads into the rest, but that
   which costs nothing is worth nothing. You see the young and strong and
   healthy and glad, whose flesh and blood have never been tamed or
   conquered. They are active and busy, in natural ways, but they complain
   that it is labour and toil to follow the Lord, for sense and reason are
   strong within them.

   "Yes, it is labour and toil, for they have not gone the right way to
   work. They are of the race of Simon the Cyrenian, who bore the Lord's
   cross from compulsion and not from love.

   "But for those who bend down in love beneath the cross of the Crucified
   One, it is far otherwise than this. Do they need to sleep, they lie
   down upon the cross and rest, and their heart remembers and desires the
   Lord. And to them His faithful breast is their bed, and His tender
   heart their pillow, and His loving arms their covering. To those
   stretched-out arms, those arms stretched out once upon the cross, and
   for evermore in love, flee, dear children, for shelter in all sorrow
   and pain, and you shall be sheltered well. When you eat or drink, let
   each morsel of food be dipped, as it were, in the precious Blood of
   Christ. And if the way be narrow, look onward to the end. For he who
   shoots an arrow fixes one eye, one eye singly, on the mark, and thus he
   aims truly, for he looks at nought beside."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXVI

THE HEART OF GOD

   THUS were many sorrowful hearts nourished, and cherished, and comforted
   in those old days, for the words which the Master spoke, came from the
   depths of his heart, and reached the hearts of those who heard him. It
   was very plain to them that he had not learnt his lesson from learned
   doctors and books of theology, but that he was speaking of the things
   which he had seen and heard. He had been rooted and grounded in love,
   and he had learnt his lesson from "the lips which are as lilies,
   dropping sweet smelling myrrh."

   "Well did Mary Magdalene call Him Rabboni," he said, "for Rabboni is my
   teacher,' and Christ is the Teacher of love. And this in three ways. He
   rewards nothing but love. He rewards nothing but out of love. He
   rewards nothing but by love. For no work is accounted before God, but
   the work that is worked by love. The work passes, but the love is
   eternal, and he who loveth, loveth for evermore.

   "And further, God rewardeth only out of love. It is out of love that He
   gives Himself, for it is Himself that He gives us, and gives Himself
   wholly. He giveth not by measure, not a part, nor for a time, for He
   loveth with an everlasting love. And He gives nothing less than Himself
   as He said to Abraham of old, Fear not, for I am thy shield and thine
   exceeding great reward.'

   "And thirdly, He rewardeth only by love. And this love consists in the
   unveiling of His glorious face, so that we may behold Him, and enjoy
   Him, and possess Him for evermore.

   "Could you take away from God His love to the souls of men, you would
   take away His life and His being -- it would be, if thus one dared to
   speak, to put an end to God.

   "Did not Jesus say, I am the Door of the Sheep-fold'? What is to us the
   Sheep-fold, dear children? It is the heart of the Father, whereunto
   Christ is the gate that is called Beautiful. For that door which was
   closed to sinful men, the door to God's heart of love, has been
   unlocked and opened wide by Christ the Lord. And there within is the
   meeting-place of all the saints of God.

   "O children, how sweetly and how gladly has He opened that door into
   the Father's heart, into the treasure-chamber of God! And there within
   He unfolds to us the hidden riches, the nearness and the sweetness of
   companionship with Himself.

   "For none can think, and none can understand, how ready is the welcome
   to those who enter in. For God thirsteth after the souls He loves, God
   runneth forth at all hours and all moments to meet them on their way.

   "Children, will you refuse the blessed call? Will you deny to God the
   longing of His heart? Will you refuse the welcome and the kiss? Were
   you but emptied of yourselves, it never could be thus. For as surely as
   the flame goes upward, as swiftly as the bird soars high into the air,
   so does the emptied soul arise, surely and swiftly, to God.

   "O children, God needs us and longs after us with a longing so deep and
   so strong, that it is as though all His blessedness, as though His very
   Being, depended upon us.

   "All things that God has made, in Heaven and in earth, in His wisdom
   and His power, all has been created and all has been done, that He
   might win us back to Himself, and bring us into the depth of His Heart.

   "Every creature we see should remind us of the desire and the purpose
   of God. This, children, is the reason of His call. And whereunto does
   He call us? He calls us to be to Him as His beloved Son, for unto
   Christ He calls us, that we may be joint-heirs with Him. Christ the
   First-born amongst many brethren, by nature Heir of all things, and we,
   joint-heirs by grace.

   "We read in the Gospel of S. John, how the Lord turned and spake to the
   two disciples of S. John the Baptist, who were following after Him. He
   said to them, What seek ye?' And they answered Rabbi' (that is, being
   interpreted, Master), where dwellest Thou?' And He answered and said
   unto them, Come and see.'

   "Dear children, thus He speaks to us, Come, soul,' He says, come and
   dwell with Me, and in Me, and behold Me, that thou mayest learn of Me.
   I will open to thee the depths of My heart, that therein thou mayest
   enter, and learn, and see what is the joy that is thine for evermore.'

   "Thus by the Holy Ghost have we even here an unclouded vision and a
   perfect enjoyment of Jesus our Lord, and as the Spirit gives us this
   blessed joy, so He gives to us to delight in it not for our own sakes,
   but for the sake of God, and for God's great glory.

   "For all this blessedness was won by Christ to satisfy the need of God;
   it is Christ who has merited it, not we, and it is as to a son beloved,
   that God gives it freely to His own.

   "And thus we can in sorrow be evermore rejoicing, even as the Lord
   Jesus when He was here below.

   "For from the beginning to the end, His life was a life of sorrow and
   of joy.

   "It was sorrow to Him to leave the throne in Heaven, and come down into
   this world below. Joy, that He yet was one with the Father in the glory
   above.

   "Sorrow, that He must taste of death, and that the death of the cross.
   Joy, that He had the while a life undying and Divine.

   "Sorrow, in that He was tempted by the enemy. Joy, that the angels came
   and ministered to Him.

   "Sorrow, that He was an hungered and athirst. Joy, in that He was the
   Bread of life to men.

   "Sorrow, in that He was wearied by the way. Joy, in that He is the Rest
   to all the hearts of His beloved.

   "Sorrow, that for many His blessed work was of no avail. Joy, because
   of the blessedness He won for His friends for evermore.

   "Sorrow, that He had need to ask from the heathen woman a drink of
   water. Joy, that He had to give to her the living water, so that she
   should thirst no more for ever.

   "Sorrow, when He wept with Mary at the grave of Lazarus. Joy that His
   voice awakened Lazarus from the dead.

   "Sorrow, when with nails He was hung upon the cross. Joy, when He
   promised to the thief to be with Him in Paradise.

   "Sorrow, when He hung athirst amidst His enemies. Joy, that He should
   quench for His beloved the everlasting thirst.

   "Sorrow, that He drank the bitter cup of death. Joy, that He arose on
   the third day in the body of His glory.

   "Thus from the manger to the cross, was His life woven of sorrow and of
   joy. And this dying and this life, has He left to us, dear children, as
   a precious legacy of love, that we may evermore remember Him, and walk
   even as He walked through this world below.

   "And it is because of God's great love that He lets us be as the hare
   that is chased by the hounds of temptation and sorrow. Yes, it is His
   great faithfulness, and His immeasurable love, which let loose upon us
   the hounds great and small.

   "A small temptation is often to us sinful men more dangerous than a
   great temptation. For we are taken unawares by a little trifling thing
   -- a game, or a companion, or a jewel, or a little chat, or the
   friendliness of a worldly man. And so we are caught, and we fall into
   darkness and sorrow.

   "But if when driven by temptation were we to flee to God, as the hart
   that is athirst for the brooks of water, in Him should we find the
   gladness and the peace and the delight, that are all the sweeter
   because of our weariness and thirst.

   "Sweet and blessed and delightsome, here in this life below and
   afterwards in the eternal home -- the fountain of sweet water, whereof
   we may drink our fill, may drink, yea drink abundantly and immeasurably
   -- may drink from the fountain-head, from the Father's heart.

   "O children, he who has drunk from the glorious river of God, forgets
   himself and his sorrow -- it is to him as though he could go bravely
   and joyously through fire and water, and through a thousand naked
   swords -- he fears no longer life nor death, nor joy nor sorrow.
   Children, why is this? It is because he has drunk to the full of God's
   eternal love."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXVII

THE UNVEILED FACE

   IT was strange to many of those who listened to the Master, to hear
   that they would find this blessed welcome, if only they would go
   straight to the Lord Himself.

   They had learnt in former days that Mary and the saints would speak on
   their behalf to God. And many a one would go to kneel before the image
   of the Virgin Mother, and implore her to intercede with her Son, and to
   incline Him to show mercy upon the poor faithless soul, who believed in
   the love of Mary rather than in the love of Jesus.

   "Children," said the Master, when he had read to them the story of the
   woman of Canaan, "what should a poor and sorrowful and comfortless man
   do now, when trouble has taken hold of him, and there seems no way of
   deliverance? He should do as this dear woman did. He should go to the
   Lord Jesus, and with a loud voice call upon Him. The loud voice, dear
   children, is the strong desire. And he should say to Him, Lord, Son of
   David, have mercy upon me.

   "Ah, children, this call can reach into the measureless depths -- a
   thousand miles and far beyond, it will reach beyond all created things,
   for it is an immeasurable sigh. But it is so, because it is the voice
   of the Holy Spirit, for it is He who maketh intercession for us with
   groanings that cannot be uttered.

   "Dear children, this woman had a perfect trust in Christ. And this is
   the one true way to God. This way leads a man straight to the Lord
   Himself without any to stand between.

   "Let me tell you of a good woman, to whom it happened four years ago,
   just as it happened to the woman of Canaan.

   "It seemed to her as though Heaven were opened to her, and that she saw
   the Lord, and Mary His mother, and all the saints around Him.

   "And a great, and deep, and bitter sorrow came upon her, a sorrow too
   deep for words, and she felt as if in that moment she knew what hell
   must be.

   "For the saints stood near to the blessed Lord, and she, though she
   could behold them there, was far, far away. Separated from God and all
   His saints, and it is this separation, that alone is hell.

   "And she felt in her soul that it was an eternal doom, and her heart
   died within her.

   "And in her anguish and despair she turned humbly and imploringly to
   Mary, and to one saint after another. But then she saw that all these
   saints perceived her not, nor turned to look at her, nor heard her
   bitter cry.

   "For they one and all were gazing upon the face of God, and they were
   so filled with the joy of His countenance, that they had neither eyes
   nor ears for aught beside.

   "Then she turned, as the natural heart will turn, to the bitter
   suffering and death of the Lord Jesus Christ," (those people who so
   often knelt before their crucifixes would understand these words,) "and
   it was answered her, Why shouldst thou take comfort from the sufferings
   of the Lord whom thou hast never honoured? of Him of whom thou art not
   worthy?'

   "And when she saw that neither Mary, nor the saints, nor the cross of
   the Lord could help her, she turned herself to God, and called mightily
   upon Him, and owned to Him that she was a sinner deserving hell alone.

   "And the Lord, who waited till she would come to Him alone, and to no
   other, spake comfort to her heart, and drew her to Himself, and showed
   her His unfathomable love.

   "For unto God can no creature come through any other creature, nor
   through any image, nor any symbol. Therefore cast but from your hearts
   all saints and angels, if you would behold the Face of God. For all
   that comes between your souls and God is a hindrance to beholding Him,
   and therefore is it a hindrance to our being conformed to Him. If you
   place a plate of gold over your eyes, it will hinder you from seeing,
   just as much as if it were a plate of iron.

   "But our poor sinful hearts like to have something to see or hear with
   our outward senses, and when the outward man is reached and touched, we
   deceive ourselves, and think that it is well.

   "Whereas the blessed mouth of Christ has spoken, saying, God is a
   Spirit, and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in
   truth. Not in outward things, not by the senses, not through images and
   pictures.

   "Do not think, dear children, when I say this, that I would forbid to
   you every image. I would fain impress upon you one Image which should
   be ever with you. That Image will be stamped upon you, when you have
   found the way to the Father's heart.

   "That Image is the Image higher and fairer than all beside, and
   dwelling in His secret place, and beholding Him, so that as a mirror
   you reflect His glorious face, you will be changed into that blessed
   Image, in soul and spirit, and in all your being.

   "And whether you walk or stand, or eat, or drink, or sleep, or wake,
   that Image of the Lord will be seen in you. And beholding Him, as a
   painter beholds the fair picture that he will copy, each line, each
   colour, will be that of the beautiful and glorious One on whom your
   eyes are set.

   "This is the true Image, the fair picture of delight. There do we
   behold the lowliness and the gentleness and beauty of the Lord. Dear
   children, at all times, and in all places, let this mirror in your
   hearts reflect the blessed face of Christ. And let all your ways and
   all your works be compared therewith, and measured thereby.

   "If you have to be a porter or a labourer, let this mirror be bright
   and undimmed as much as if you were sitting alone in your room or in a
   church.

   "Let all things be done, and all words be spoken, as if you stood
   before Him and beheld Him. When you eat, let each morsel be sanctified
   to you by His precious Blood. When you drink, think how He has given
   you to drink from His smitten side. When you sleep, lie down and rest
   upon the heart of Jesus. When you speak, remember how He stands before
   you, and hearkens to each word, and that every movement, and every
   gesture, and every meaning of your heart, are watched by His eyes.

   "And thus more and more will you be lost in the divine Image, and He
   will be revealed.

   "Do you think it will be a loss to lay aside all outward forms?

   "Do you think, Is it not well that I should remember the sufferings of
   the Lord, and look at His image?'

   "Dear children, S. Paul has said, We walk by faith, and not by sight,'
   and it is a cloud and veil to that which is the truth and reality, not
   a help to seeing it, if you put an image between.

   "Not that we should think lightly or seldom of the Lord and His bitter
   sufferings, but for the very reason that we remember Him and all He
   suffered with thankfulness and love, should we cast aside our images.

   "If a man owed me five pence, and gave me instead five shillings, I
   should not say that he had wronged me. There is an outward way of
   beholding the Lord, and there is an inward way. And in this inward
   beholding and understanding, there are degrees, as we find in Mary,
   Martha, and Lazarus. If a great master, and a rude and untaught
   peasant, were placed before a beautiful picture, they would both see
   it, and yet they would not see alike. For it needs the understanding of
   the heart. And as far as we are emptied of ourselves, and of all that
   is not God, shall we have eyes to behold His glory."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE VINEYARDS

   THE Master's words were so plain and simple, that the poor and untaught
   could understand them, but they were also deep and wise, so that only
   those could understand who were taught by God.

   And the Master so often spoke of homely things, using them as figures
   and pictures of the things of God, that the workmen in the town, and
   the labourers in the fields, had as it were a great picture-book all
   around them, with signs and symbols that reminded them of the things of
   God.

   "You know how it is," the Master said, "when a man works in the
   vineyards. He has a long day's work to do, but he must needs in the
   middle of it have his dinner, and a little while to rest.

   "If he is to work, he must eat. And the food enters into every part of
   his body, for it turns to flesh, and blood, and bones, and marrow, and
   then it is used up again by the labour the man has to do, so that he
   has to eat afresh, in order that he may return to his work.

   "And even thus should the godly man do. When he is an hungered and
   athirst after the heavenly food, he should for a while rest from his
   work, and feed upon the Lord, but it should be in order that he should
   render again according to the grace given him, and labour the more that
   fruit should abound for God.

   "Thus in receiving and in giving, in rest and in labour, if all is from
   God, and for God, the godly man grows and increases, and becomes
   transformed into the likeness of the Lord.

   "O children, where such people are to be found, it were well worth
   while to feed them with precious pearls, and with gold and silver, if
   such things could be turned to food. It were well worth while to set
   apart for them the best of all that the earth can give. But yet these
   men of God are poor, and have none of these things; they depend on God
   alone, and trust in Him only.

   "And truly were you thus to live upon the Lord, and trust in Him, the
   Father in Heaven would well provide for you. Yes, even if you were shut
   up inside a rock, where none could reach you.

   "The vines in the vineyard, children, are like these men. Look at the
   vine stumps, they are black, and hard, and they look dry and barren.
   And if you did not know they were vines, you would think, that wood is
   good for nothing but firewood.'

   "But in that dry barren stump there are hidden the living veins, and
   the noble strength of the vine. And the strength and sweetness shall
   one day flow forth from it, and the fruit of it shall be fairer and
   richer than the fruit of all the fruit-trees besides.

   "And so it is with those beloved saints, who are hidden and unseen,
   because they are dwelling in God at all places and all times. They may
   seem to you like useless wood, black, and dry, and good for nothing.
   They are humble, lowly people, they are small, and you esteem them not.
   They do not speak fine words, nor do great works, nor win for
   themselves honour amongst religious men. But there are living veins in
   these small and despised people, and the life that flows therein is God
   himself.

   "And look, dear children, at the vine-dresser, when he is cutting and
   pruning the vines. You may learn a lesson from him. If he did not cut
   off the useless branches, they would spoil the sweetness of the fruit.

   "How many useless branches do you need to cut off? All that is not
   according to the Lord must be cut off, down to the very stem.

   "But stop, stay your knife for a while -- what is it you are going to
   cut away? You must see to that.

   "If the vine-dresser had not learnt his work, he would cut off the good
   branches instead of the bad, and woefully spoil his vineyard.

   "So you see people who leave their sins and their evil desires
   untouched, cut away at poor nature, and spoil the vineyard of God.
   Nature is that which God has made, and is in itself good and fair. And
   when the time of fruit is come, they will find how much good fruit they
   have spoiled."

   And the Master reminded them further, that the vines are not left to
   grow here and there, and everywhere, but they are tied down to a strong
   prop. And that the Lord Jesus is the prop and strength of His people.

   "And when weeds grow up that would keep the sun from shining upon the
   fruitful branches, the vine-dresser roots them up, great and small.

   "And then," he said, "the great sun draws up the moisture from the
   earth, and it flows through the veins, a living power, and the tender
   grapes are seen. And still the Sun of Glory shines down, and the sweet,
   and glad, and pleasant fruit is drawn forth from the branches, and is
   fair to see, and fragrant, so that toads and snakes, who love not this
   sweet odour, flee far away and are seen no more.

   "So does the old serpent flee, when the vines with their tender grapes
   give a good smell, in the summer time of God. and the glorious sun
   shines forth with yet greater might, and the fruit ripens, and the
   sweetness fills it.

   "O children, the Sun of Glory shines with a glow that is far beyond the
   brightness of all the suns in Heaven, and fills, and sweetens, and
   ripens the men who abide in His shining.

   "And as the grapes ripen, the vine-dresser cuts off every leaf that
   would come between the sunshine and the fruit. And thus as these men of
   God abide in the glory of His presence, all outward forms and symbols
   fall away, the images of the saints, and the penances and the prayers;
   all outside things drop off and are no more, and they are lost in the
   glory and in the sweetness of God."

   "The prayers?"

   "Yes, dear children. There are prayers that come between the soul and
   God. Do not rich people come to you, and give to you, poor, misled,
   weak children as you are, fourpence, or sixpence, and ask you to make
   so many prayers, or say so many paternosters in return?

   "Of this merchandise, I leave it to God in His eternity to tell you the
   worth. But one thing I say to you, turn away from all things, and from
   yourselves also, and look to God Himself. No one can do this or
   understand what I mean, but by the Holy Ghost. Prayer is the ascent of
   the heart to God. And know, that as a farthing to 100,000 golden
   pieces, so is all prayer repeated by the lips, to one inward prayer
   whereby the spirit sinks itself into the depths of the heart of God.

   "If you join to this, prayer with the lips, it is well, for two are
   better than one. But whether you speak with your lips or not, lead your
   heart forth into the wilderness, where you are alone with God, as Moses
   led the flocks and herds out of the land of Egypt.

   "Prayer with the lips, is but as chaff to the goodly wheat. My cap and
   my clothes are used by me, but they are not myself. And one moment's
   prayer in the spirit, is worth all the penances, and words, and works,
   and forms, that began in Adam's days, and go on to the day of the
   judgment of God.

   "Men who pray thus, receive all things in return from God for they pray
   to the Father for the Son as the Son has prayed for them. They pray for
   Him that His precious work, His bitter suffering, may bring forth fruit
   abundantly, and that He may receive the fulness of adoration and
   praise.

   "And do not think that you have to do with God more when you are
   praying, than at other times.

   "What,' you say, am I to think all employments of equal value?'

   "No, dear child. No one can doubt that praying is a better thing than
   cooking or that thinking of the Lord is better than spinning. But you
   should still, I repeat, have to do with God as much at one time as at
   another, for your heart should be ever with Him. You find people who
   seem to themselves, to be full of love to God, when they are sitting in
   their rooms, or in a church, or doing some holy work. But when that
   comes to an end, they take leave of God, till such a time comes round
   again.

   "Be assured of this, you do not know God in truth, and have no true
   peace, if you are depending on times and places.

   "Such people go to church in the morning, and hurry back to the church
   when they have a spare moment, just as if there were no God in the
   street, or in their homes, but as though He were only to be found in
   the church.

   "If this is the case with you, be sure you will find God nowhere. Such
   people are always on the move -- now doing a good work, now saying a
   prayer, sometimes to God, sometimes to a saint, and thus they hurry on
   from one thing to another, and have no rest, and never know the living
   God.

   "Remember that whatever God gives you to do, from moment to moment,
   that is the very best thing you could possibly be doing, and you little
   know where and when the Lord will meet you.

   "He who does not seek and find God everywhere, and in everything, finds
   Him nowhere and in nothing. And he who is not at the Lord's service in
   everything, is at His service in nothing.

   "People adorn the church with gold and silver, and the bells ring, and
   the choir sing, and the organ peals, all to the praise of God. I do not
   say anything against outward marks of praise. But it is a higher thing,
   far above all the rest when the heart gives thanks to God.

   "It is far higher than all these things when a man feels that God is so
   great, and he is so small, that he cannot praise Him as He should be
   praised. This praise is higher praise than praise spoken, or sung, as
   it is said by one, He speaks most worthily of God, who has so known the
   riches of His glory, that he is speechless before Him.'"
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXIX

THE WATER-SPRINGS

   "YOU know, dear children," the Master said, "that if you want fresh
   pure water, you can get it best from the spring. The water that runs
   away through the pipes becomes warm and muddy.

   "God is the fountain head of the true and living stream, and to Him
   alone can we go to drink our fill of pure bright water. The King has
   brought us into His banqueting-house, and His banner over us is love.'

   "O children, well and wisely does He order all for us, leading us by
   strange wild ways, to bring us at last into the great depth of love,
   into Himself, the unfathomable blessedness. And that which there we
   learn to know, is beyond all imagining, and all understanding and all
   the foretaste of eternal joy.

   "All that He does for us, and all the hidden ways of God which no eye
   can see, are in order that He may bring us into the holy and blessed
   delight of His presence.

   "Hear how He calleth with His mighty voice, Whosoever is athirst let
   him come, and drink of the water of life freely!'

   "Children, the thirst is first in Him, He thirsteth for the souls that
   are athirst for Him, and when He findeth us, He gives us to drink so
   gloriously, so freely, and so fully, that from us there floweth forth
   the living water, a spring of everlasting life.

   "It is not reading of God, or hearing of Him, or knowing of Him by
   sense or by reason, that will satisfy us, but it is receiving Him,
   drinking deeply of the blessed fountain that springs from the eternal
   depths -- drinking from Himself where He is, and from none other.

   "You know what a spring is, children, and what a cistern is. The
   cisterns become foul and dry, but the spring leaps up, and sparkles and
   flows freely, fresh and sweet and pure.

   "Thus does the soul know God in a nearer and a better way, than all
   masters and teachers can tell of Him. He is a good teacher who tells
   you to go straight to the school where the Holy Ghost is the
   schoolmaster. He loves to find the scholars there, who are waiting to
   receive the high and blessed teaching that flows forth from the
   Father's heart.

   "If we hindered not His blessed work, how gladly, how fully, would that
   tide of life and joy flow down, as a mighty rain, filling the valleys
   and the depths, as the blessed rain for which Elijah prayed, when the
   earth was dry and thirsty, so that naught could grow and blossom.

   "Children, it is the dry and thirsty land that calls for the great
   rain. And it is because we seek to satisfy our thirst with other things
   that the Holy Ghost is hindered.

   "Do you find that your heart is dry and barren? If you do, see that you
   do not run off to your confessor, but flee to God, and confess to Him.
   And He will lay His divine Hand upon your head, and make you whole.

   "Oh how great, how inexpressible, how blessed, how immeasurable, is the
   gift of the Holy Ghost. Were you to compare a point, which has no
   dimensions, with the whole world, the difference would be as nothing to
   that of Heaven and earth and all that therein is, compared with the
   gift of the Spirit of God. The least that we can conceive of the Holy
   Ghost is a thousandfold more than all created things.

   "The Holy Ghost prepares the house in which He comes to dwell. And He
   fills the house with Himself, for He is God. Every chamber, every
   corner, is filled with His presence, though often we are not aware of
   His presence and His work, because we are taken up with outward things,
   and He will not let us know the sweetness of His presence, till we have
   closed the doors, and sit down in the stillness of rest, to listen to
   His voice. The disciples shut the doors for fear of the Jews.

   "Ah, dear children! beware of the dangerous Jews, who would take from
   you the secret of the Lord, and the sweetness of the company of God the
   Holy Ghost. The Jews in the disciples' days could only hurt their
   bodies, but this present evil world will hurt the soul and take from
   you the blessed intercourse of the heart with God. Go into company, and
   join in amusements where God is not, and His honour is disregarded, and
   then will the presence of the Holy Ghost be lost to you, and His gifts
   will be powerless in your hands.

   "Do you say, I only go to harmless amusements! I mean no ill. I must
   have pleasure and enjoyment at times'?

   "O God! thou blessed, thou precious, thou eternal God! how can it be
   Thou art not to the souls Thou hast created, the sweetest, the most
   beloved -- the most glad and blessed joy! And rather than enjoy Thee
   will the soul turn to the sad, dark, polluting, deadly pleasure and
   enjoyment of this poor world, there to find peace and joy!

   "You say it does you no harm? Go and say that to God, for if that is
   true, your case is sorrowful indeed. It is that you have no delight in
   Him, and see no beauty in Him that you should desire Him.

   "In three ways, dear children, did the beloved Lord attract to Himself
   the heart of John.

   "First, did the Lord Jesus call him out of the world, to make him an
   apostle.

   "Next, did He grant to him to rest upon His loving breast.

   "Thirdly, and this was the greatest and most perfect nearness, when on
   the holy day of Pentecost, He gave to him the Holy Ghost, and opened to
   him the door through which he should pass into the heavenly places.

   "Thus, children, does the Lord first call you from the world, and make
   you to be the messengers of God. And next, He draws you close to
   Himself, that you may learn to know His holy gentleness and lowliness,
   and His deep and burning love, and His perfect, unshrinking obedience.

   "And yet this is not all. Many have been drawn thus near -- and many
   are satisfied to go no further. And yet they are far from the perfect
   nearness which the heart of Christ desires.

   "S. John lay at one moment on the breast of the Lord Jesus. And then he
   forsook Him and fled.

   "If you have been brought so far as to rest on the breast of Christ, it
   is well. But yet there was to John a nearness still to come, one moment
   of which would be worth a hundred years of all that had gone before.
   The Holy Ghost was given to him -- the door was opened.

   "Do you ask, Have I gone further than John had gone, when he had
   reached the second nearness?' I answer, none can go beyond the Person
   of the Lord Jesus Christ. But you may ask the question in another way.
   Have you passed beyond all that is your own? all that has its sweetness
   in your enjoyment of the sweetness?'

   "For there is a nearness wherein we lose ourselves, and God is all in
   all. This may come to us in one swift moment -- or we may wait for it
   with longing hearts, and learn to know it at last. It was of this that
   S. Paul spake, when he said that the things which eye hath not seen,
   nor ear heard, nor the heart conceived, God hath now revealed to us by
   the gifts of the Holy Ghost.

   "The soul is drawn into the inner chamber, and there are the wonder and
   the riches revealed. And truly he who beholds them often, must spend
   many a day in bed -- for nature must sink beneath the exceeding weight
   of that great glory. John fell down as dead before Him -- Paul knew not
   whether he were in the body or out of the body, when this door into the
   inner glory was opened, and he saw the Face of Christ."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXX

OUT OF EGYPT

   YES, the Master had seen that which so filled his heart and soul, that
   even his own blessedness and enjoyment had passed out of sight, and
   Christ was all and in all. This is the truest worship, when the One
   whom we adore, fills to us Heaven and earth, and we have lost ourselves
   in the glory and gladness of His Presence.

   How fully shall we know this, when the great call is made, and we are
   caught up to meet Him and to see His Face! And how fully even now do we
   know it by the Spirit, who is the earnest to us of the joy to come.

   The Master spoke of this continually, and he desired all who heard him,
   to understand that this great joy and blessedness is not gained for us
   by righteousness of our own. "Mark well, dear children," he said, "how
   it was with the thief -- the enemy of Jesus, who was hanging on the
   cross beside Him, as the due reward of his evil deeds -- who had mocked
   and scorned the blessed Lord, even whilst hanging there.

   "The moment that he turned to the Lord, and looked to Him for grace,
   the Lord received him as it were with open arms, and gave him not only
   all that he asked, but how much more!

   "He said, Lord, remember me when Thou comest in Thy kingdom.' And the
   Lord answered gladly and said, Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt
   thou be with Me in Paradise.'

   "Was not that more than he had asked? For the Lord did not remember him
   merely. He gave him to behold Himself, His blessed face, His beauty and
   His sweetness, the true and livings Paradise of everlasting joy.

   "So also Zaccheus, who climbed upon a tree because he desired to see
   the Lord. Dear children, such a little Zaccheus is every man who is
   converted to know the love of God.

   "Zaccheus was a prince of sinners; he was not ashamed to own himself an
   open sinner, and a great sinner -- and moreover to confess openly the
   sins he had committed.

   "So also S. Paul, who said, Jesus Christ came into the world to save
   sinners, of whom I am chief.' It is these sinners who receive the
   riches of grace. For where sin abounded, grace did much more abound.

   "Therefore let none of you despair because your sins were, or are, so
   great and grievous, but do as Zaccheus did, betake yourselves to the
   Lord, and look to Him.

   "Oh how many warnings, how many calls, how many reasons, has the Lord
   given us, that we should turn and be converted to Him! He does as many
   signs and wonders to-day to bring His people out of Egypt, as He did in
   the days of Pharaoh. Yes, the conversion of each one amongst us, is as
   great a miracle as the miracles of the Lord in the old days, in the
   house of bondage. Were we but truly thankful to the Lord for these
   warnings and these calls!

   "But, alas, there are many amongst us, as amongst the people of old,
   who are brought out as to their bodies, but their hearts are left
   behind in Egypt. Many, whose conversion is an empty show and shadow,
   and the truth and reality with them, is that their love and their
   desires are set upon the enjoyments and the pleasures of the world and
   the flesh.

   "They are careful and diligent in their religion -- in vestments, and
   in singing, and in bowing, all in due order; and when all this is
   carefully observed, they sit down quite satisfied, and think that all
   is well, and that they are clean out of Egypt.

   "Alas, dear children, this is all an empty show -- these things are the
   fig-leaves of Adam, the fig-leaves of the tree that bore no fruit. When
   the Lord seeks fruit thereon, He finds it not. He finds nothing that
   will satisfy Him. And let all such beware, lest the curse fall upon
   them from His lips, Let no man eat fruit of thee hereafter for ever.'
   Better is it to remain in the world, in it, and of it, than to come out
   of Egypt under false colours of holiness, and gain thereby a greater
   damnation."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXXI

THE WILDERNESS

   AS years went on, there were many who began to understand from Dr.
   Tauler's preaching, that there is a life hidden with Christ in God -- a
   land not of promise only, but of possession, where the soul dwells in
   peace and rest, in the midst of the strife and sorrow of the world --
   and yet apart from the world, and closed in all around, by the walls
   that are salvation, and the gates that are praise.

   The Master often spoke of this, and had many names for this place of
   hidden joy and stillness.

   He called it sometimes the wilderness whereunto the Lord allures the
   soul, and where He speaks comfortably to her, and makes her to sing as
   those that are brought up out of the land of Egypt. "It is a pleasant
   wilderness," he said, "where the storms are raging all around, and yet
   within that land of God there is blessed peace and quietness. And no
   man knows nor understands the words that God speaks to the heart, till
   he is brought into that wilderness, and is all alone with Him.

   "It is a wilderness -- for there are few who dwell there, but it is
   there that the soul meets oftentimes the Lord who loves her. Who is
   this that cometh up from the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed
   with myrrh and frankincense, and all the powders of the merchant?' And
   who is this also, who cometh up from the wilderness leaning upon her
   Beloved?' And the soul answers, I have found Him whom my soul loveth, I
   have held Him, and will not let Him go.'

   "For he who has been afar in this wilderness can tell of things learnt
   and tasted in the stillness of the solitary place. And who that looks
   upon the face of God, receiveth not in return that which is Divine? It
   is even thus that S. Paul has taught us, We all with open face
   beholding His glory, are changed into the same image' -- we are
   transformed into that which we behold.

   "And again, it is a wilderness into which He leads us, inasmuch as many
   a fair flower groweth there, springing up all around, because no foot
   of man is there to tread them down. For the way into the wilderness is
   a strait gate, and few there be who enter there. But there within are
   white lilies and white blossoms -- the pure in heart and mind -- and
   there are the red roses which tell of the longing of the heart to
   suffer and to die for Christ. And there are the violets, the lowly and
   the small, and there are sweet roots and flowers of pleasant odours,
   the holy patterns left to us by many a saint of God.

   "It is well to find a dwelling-place in this wilderness, where, as it
   is written, the flowers appear on the earth; even the saints who are
   gone and leave their memories behind, and the saints who are living
   yet.

   "And again it is as in the wilderness of old, there is no want there.
   This seems to the men of this world an impossible thing -- and it was
   so with the Israelites of old, who knew not that the bread of God was
   all they needed, and that thence was all their strength. The wilderness
   and the solitary place shall be glad for the saints of God, and in the
   wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert. To the
   lost soul we should say Believe,' but to him who is found we should
   say, Look upon the King in His beauty, and behold His face.'"

   And the Master would often say that as man was made at first in the
   image of God, there is a craving in his soul which can never be
   satisfied with any other than God. But that when sin came in, and
   deformed the fair image, men became as the woman who was bowed together
   by the spirit of infirmity, and instead of beholding God, they can
   behold none but themselves, and only seek themselves in all things. But
   that the man who has been brought back to God, has an eternal and
   quenchless desire after Him, and in Him alone has joy and rest.

   "If you lift a stone," the Master said, "and let it go, it will fall
   straight to the earth, for the earth attracts it, and it cannot do
   otherwise. If it were held up aloft 1000 years, and then let go, it
   would fall as swiftly and as surely, for the attraction is changeless
   and eternal. And thus the godly man has that which attracts and draws
   him with a changeless and eternal force -- he may be occupied by
   necessity with this thing or with that -- but as soon as his heart is
   free, he is drawn swiftly and surely to God. For Christ is to His own
   as the magnet to the steel, and He alone.

   "Children, God has never spoken more than One Word, and that Word is
   still unspoken. That word is Christ."

   Let us think for a moment of this saying. Do we know what it was the
   Master meant when thus he spoke? Have we learnt by the teaching of God
   the Holy Ghost, that all that God has said or done, is but a revelation
   of the One by whom, and for whom, all things were created, and all
   things are redeemed, and in whom alone is God revealed and glorified?

   Have we known that all the written Word of God, from beginning to end,
   leads up to the One concerning whom of old Moses and the prophets
   spake, and who is now made known to us by His holy apostles and
   prophets, speaking by the Spirit of Him? God has indeed spoken but One
   Word -- and that word is still unspoken. For no man knoweth the Son but
   the Father, and in the bosom of the Father He is, and was, and ever
   will be, the mystery of unspeakable love. And thus is it said that we
   love Him with the love wherewith the Father loves Him -- a love that is
   not our own, the love which flows from the Father's heart, and fills
   the heart of him who abides in God, and God in him.

   The Master said that it is to this great and deep and blessed gladness
   of abiding in His love, that God is leading us by all things great and
   small, that befall us on our way. "For this," he said, "He counts the
   hairs of our head, and not one is lost but by His ordering. Eternally
   foreseen, and marked, and ordered, is all that can happen to the
   children of His love. Your finger aches, or your head aches, your feet
   are cold, you are hungry or thirsty, you are grieved by loveless words
   and deeds -- all has been prepared by God, and ordered, that you may be
   fitted for the blessed joy, as you could not otherwise have been.

   "The God who set my eyes in my head, might make me blind or deaf -- and
   if the eyes and ears of the soul are then unsealed, I shall thank Him
   that He has done it.

   "Children, it is a needs-be that things should go against us, that we
   should labour and suffer, for God thus shapes and fashions us for
   Himself. He might have made bread grow in the fields as easily as corn
   -- but we should have missed the labour that is needed for us; we
   should not learn unless things are contrary to us, to press forward and
   overcome.

   "But, children, the blessing comes not from our work and labour, but
   from yielding ourselves to His will. Thus to suffer and be still is the
   noblest work, for then it is not we who work but God, and His work is
   high above our works, as the heaven is high above the earth. And one
   spark of love in our hearts, which makes us glad that God should have
   His will, should give or take, do this or that, is worth more than if
   we were to give away all our clothes to the poor, or feed on stones and
   thorns, if that were possible, in order to mortify our bodies."

   And the Master explained that the great blessing which comes to us from
   God, even His great salvation, comes not by doing, but by hearing. "In
   hearing," he said, "we must needs be passive and silent. The eternal
   Word passes into us from God, and the power is His, we receive only.

   "And what is the end and purpose of all the work of God, of all His
   ways and dealings with our souls? It is to lead us up to the glory,
   where Christ is gone before. For where the Head goeth, thither must the
   members follow. Where the treasure is, there must the heart be also.
   Thus it is said, Draw me, we will run after Thee,' and who can hinder
   us? We go to His Father and our Father, to His God and our God. His
   Home and ours. His end and ours. His blessedness and ours. His welcome
   and ours, all are one, for He and we are one, and where He is, there
   must we be also, even in the glory of the Father.

   "Oh, how blessed is it to be brought at last to be there where we are
   nothing, and where God is all!

   "Dear children, own yourselves as nothing, and then is the better part
   yours, the better part which Mary chose, when to her there was nothing
   in heaven or on earth, but Jesus only. Sink down into this depth of
   nothingness, and let the tower with all its bells fall upon you -- let
   all the devils come leagued against you, let heaven and earth stand as
   a barrier in your way -- all will be well."

   And thus did it prove to be when the famine came, and the pestilence
   followed, when the curse of Rome was a terror to those who knew not
   God; for many there were whose hearts were filled with joy and
   gladness, and who died without "the sacraments," thanking and praising
   God.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXXII

THE MASS

   IT is wonderful to us, that the doctor could yet go through the forms,
   and repeat the words of ceremonies and services, which strangely
   contradicted the glorious truths he preached. But it is very difficult,
   and perhaps impossible to us, to see things with his eyes, for we have
   known in many respects, as regards the outer service of God, a more
   perfect way, and we have never been accustomed to revere the decrees of
   Rome, or to attach the smallest importance to the authority of that,
   which to Dr. Tauler was the one professing Church on earth.

   It is true that his heart owned and loved his Lord's dear people,
   wherever he met with them, and under whatever name. But he had never
   dared to imagine that anything that was commanded by "the Church,"
   could be in itself an evil thing. He grieved over the abuses, as he
   would imagine them to be, and the unlawful acts done on all sides by
   the Pope and the clergy, but he did not see that it was to an utterly
   fallen and apostate Church that he outwardly belonged, and that the
   evil branches sprang from an evil root.

   He saw in every outward form a sign and symbol, and his mind was so
   fixed upon the inner truth which he considered the only reality, that
   he did not observe, as far as we can tell, how contradictory and
   ill-matched were the symbol and the truth.

   This seems to be the only explanation of his reverence for the mass,
   and for the ordinances of the Church of Rome. Did he believe that by
   the words of the priest, the bread and wine were transformed into
   Christ Himself? We must remember that though this strange delusion had
   existed in the minds of some, for centuries before the time of Dr.
   Tauler, it was scarcely more than eighty years before his birth, that
   it was first proclaimed as an article of faith, at the Council of the
   Lateran. There had been up to that time some who believed it, and some
   who regarded the bread and wine as symbols only. And the declaration
   made at Rome, had not the magic power of convincing all those who heard
   it, that so it was.

   Many must have believed afterwards, as they did before, that the
   Presence of the Lord was spiritual, and that instead of a repeated
   sacrifice, the mass, as it was called by Romanists, was a remembrance
   of His death.

   We must also take into account that in the days when books and papers,
   and magazines and printed announcements of all sorts, were not spread
   abroad, and carried by trains into every distant corner, changes in
   belief and custom came slowly and gradually, and the old-fashioned
   people in quiet places, went on in their old ways, undisturbed and
   unknown. It is therefore very probable that we are apt to rush unduly
   to the conclusion, that to every Roman Catholic of the thirteenth and
   fourteenth centuries, the mass was, as now, a miracle worked by the
   priest. Since the Council of Trent gave fresh authority to this
   delusion, it is a necessary part of "Catholic" belief.

   But when we examine the Master's sermons, it seems to us, that the One
   represented by the bread and wine was Himself so present to his mind,
   that he scarcely remembered aught beside. "The outward thing is
   nothing," he said, "but a sign of the inward thing. A signboard hung
   out means that there is wine in that house. But there may be wine where
   there is no signboard, and the wine is of no less value to the owner
   for that reason."

   It may be well to give a part of a sermon which touches on the subject
   of the "Sacrament."

   He said that God would have us for Himself, and that as a deer is
   chased by hounds, so do the hounds of God, grief, and pain, and
   persecution, and affliction, chase the soul, till it is brought at last
   to seek Him only, and to yield itself up without reserve to Him. "This
   yielding of the soul to God, is better," he said, "than all the
   services performed by men. Better than fasting, and watching, and
   repeating prayers; better than beating yourselves, and tormenting
   yourselves. If God has thus drawn you to Himself, and has satisfied
   your soul, so that the thirst for the things that perish has passed
   away, then it is good for you to go to the feast of the Lord as often
   as you will. But how often? We ask the Lord to give us our daily bread.
   But where shall we find the tender Priest, who would give us day by day
   this sacrament of love?

   "Dear children, do not trouble yourselves if earthly priests deny it to
   you;" (the interdict was still upon the city); "the Highest Priest, the
   Priest eternal and true, allows it you, and He will give Himself to
   you, in a manner more spiritual and more fruitful than in the outward
   sacrament. By the Holy Ghost you may eat Him and enjoy Him, even as He
   has said, He that eateth My flesh, and drinketh My blood, dwelleth in
   Me, and I in him.' If you find that to go outwardly to the sacrament,
   helps you and furthers you, go there, but do not make a necessity of it
   to your soul, especially if you find that to abstain from the outward
   service, furthers you in communion with the Lord."

   Thus we find that the Master's chief intent was the real and spiritual
   communion of the soul with the living God. We, with our greater light,
   may see further, that outward observances, as well as inward communion,
   are to be judged by the Word of God, and that it is not a matter of
   indifference to Him, when men in their manner of worship, add to His
   perfect word by rules of their own.

   Thus it is not merely, as perhaps Dr. Tauler would have thought, a
   matter of indifference whether a man calls himself a priest, and
   invents for himself vestments and ceremonies, or regards such things as
   binding upon him, because other people have invented and ordered them.

   But at the same time, we may be very careful to adhere to Scripture in
   all these outward things and omit the weightier matters of the Gospel,
   and know little or nothing of that "school in the third Heaven," to
   which Dr. Tauler directed his "dear children." "The school," he said,
   "where the Holy Ghost is the schoolmaster, and where the lesson that is
   taught is the heart of God."

   To the Master, in spite of his firm persuasion that he owed respect and
   obedience to the Roman Church, in spite of his adhesion to forms which
   told the tale of the fall and ruin of Christendom, the spiritual
   reality was all in all. "The friends of God," he said, "cannot but see
   and lament, that their beloved Lord, whose honour they seek and desire,
   more than life itself, is dishonoured and despised by those for whom
   His precious Blood was shed. Look around, at the world and at the
   Church, at the clergy and the laymen -- rarely will you find one whose
   eye is single, and who seeks God simply and only. A man may be baptized
   a thousand times, and wear a hundred monk's cowls, and if God is not
   his object, and God only, what is he the better? Yes, a man may be in
   the devil's hands, and wear the Pope's triple crown upon his head. A
   man may have spiritual covetousness, which is like an ague, with hot
   fits and cold fits, he may be at one moment all in a fever to do
   something whereby he may be distinguished amongst religions people.
   Sometimes he abstains from speaking. Sometimes he will hold forth. Now
   he wants to be in one religious order, and now in another. Now he will
   give away all his money, now he will keep it: now he will go on a
   mission to some distant land, now he will shut himself up in a
   cloister: at one time reading is everything to him, at another time
   meditating.

   "But a truly converted Christian man has learnt to know that he is
   nothing. He desires that men should not honour him, or think much of
   him. He desires to serve, and not to rule. He despises himself, and
   regards himself as a fool, and seeks the lowest place. God looks not at
   the greatness of the work, but He measures it by the love He finds in
   it. A grain of gold is as truly gold, as a pile of one thousand golden
   pieces. And where the grain of gold is found, it is precious in the
   eyes of God."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE MYSTICS

   IT is necessary to a true account of the Master's preaching, to
   observe, that not only do we find much of error and ignorance mixed up
   with the gold which I have so gladly sifted and stored up, but also
   that there was much truth, and much that is not true, very darkly
   expressed in the strange language used by those we commonly call
   mystics.

   This language, which sounds to us very often as an unmeaning jargon,
   was no doubt understood more or less by people accustomed to hear it.

   It was not that Dr. Tauler could properly be called a mystic. Those who
   are not aware that there is such a thing as true and real intercourse
   with God, by the Spirit whom He has given us, would of course include
   under the name of mystics all those who profess to receive spiritual
   light from any other than an outward source. They would class together
   the man who delights in his own feelings and meditations, and the
   working of his own mind, and the man who holds converse with the living
   God. In other words, they would see no difference between the water
   drawn from the cistern within, the natural heart and mind, and the
   living water that comes from without, flowing from the throne of God
   and the Lamb. It is for ever true that He gives us to drink out of the
   great depths of the Smitten Rock, and this living water which flows not
   from our own hearts, but from the heart of God, is received into our
   innermost being, and becomes in us a well of water springing up into
   everlasting life.

   This true and spiritual converse with God distinguished Dr. Tauler from
   those properly called mystics, whose dreams, and fancies, and feelings,
   were to them, that which God the Holy Ghost is to the believer. The two
   things may, it is true, be found more or less mixed up in the same
   person. But in the case of Dr. Tauler, it was plain that it was upon a
   sound, solid, and practical faith in a living and present God, that his
   experience rested.

   The world is incapable of seeing the difference between the work of the
   Spirit in the heart, and mere human feelings. We hear it often said, "I
   am not one of those people who like to turn myself inside out, for the
   benefit of others." And this is given as an excuse for the entire
   absence of God from daily conversation. Or, "If people like to talk
   about their feelings, you may be sure they are not very deep." Thus is
   the man who knows not God, utterly incapable of perceiving that were it
   the inside of ourselves that we are called upon to exhibit, it would be
   a display of something even worse than the outside of ourselves, and
   that our own feelings, whether deep or shallow, are at best but a
   profitless exhibition.

   But God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined
   in our hearts, that from us may shine forth, not that which we feel or
   think, but the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in the face
   of Jesus Christ. And "they which come in, will see the light." It is
   the love and joy of Christ that flow as rivers of living water from the
   believing soul. Instead of a display of ourselves, it will be a display
   of Him in whose presence we forget ourselves and all that is ours, even
   as did the woman in the house of Simon, when with her tears she washed
   the feet of Him who loved her.

   Thus did the Master say, "We fade as a little taper in the presence of
   the sun."

   Yet Dr. Tauler had been accustomed in his youth to the language used by
   mystical writers, and he seems to have employed it often, as naturally
   as the early Quakers used their peculiar expressions. And thus, when he
   spoke of the "sinking of the soul in faith into the Divine darkness,
   and into its own groundless Nothing," it is very possible that some of
   his friends, to whom these expressions were familiar, attached a
   meaning to them; and they would seem as natural to them as to talk of
   "coming up in Spirit through the flaming sword into Paradise," and of
   "high professors living in airy notions," would have been to George
   Fox; or as easily comprehensible as to George Fox's friends, were his
   descriptions of "rugged and mountainous," or "glittering and frothy"
   persons.

   Sometimes, no doubt, the Master meant the right thing, and sometimes
   the wrong thing, by his mysterious expressions. Much error was abroad
   then, as now, besides the errors specially taught in the Roman Church.
   Some of the warnings given in the Master's sermons against those who
   had "conscientious" objections to doing their common daily work, and
   who spent their time in dreamy contemplation, till they imagined
   themselves up in Heaven, were well understood by those who heard him.

   For a sect had arisen shortly before, composed of persons calling
   themselves "The Brethren and Sisters of the free Spirit." This sect, in
   which women played an important part, maintained that earthly
   occupations were a hindrance to communion with God, and that all human
   instincts and affections were stamped out in persons who were "lost,"
   as they said, "in God," this being the "higher Christian life," to use
   a modern expression.

   To be "dead to nature," was the state to which the soul should aspire;
   and having attained this exalted condition, it could then look down
   upon the sad state of soul in which those were found, who had families
   to love and care for, or who worked hard to earn their daily bread.

   The "brethren," or "sisters," who had reached the top of this spiritual
   pinnacle, were no longer bound by any ordinance, and had attained to a
   state in which they no longer sinned.

   The natural consequence of this delusion may be foreseen. The short
   road to proving that we never sin, is to declare that there is no sin
   in anything we do. And consequently these brethren and sisters became
   speedily remarkable, for their very loose notions of morality. In them,
   pride, anger, revenge, fraud, malice, and immorality in general, were
   no longer sins, they were acting under the direction of God, and it was
   only a poor unenlightened "beginner," as they would say, or one in a
   low state of soul, who could so misunderstand their course, as to find
   any specks or stains in any part of it.

   "We proceed from God," they said, "and by holy contemplation we are
   re-united to God, and therefore cannot do wrong, for we are one with
   God." It is true that the accounts of this sect are chiefly derived
   from Roman Catholic sources, and their errors may have been
   exaggerated. But as such errors have proved themselves to be a natural
   growth in the heart of man, by springing up again and again since those
   days, we may believe that there were those in the thirteenth and
   fourteenth centuries who held them. There is nothing new under the sun.

   Tauler was often suspected of holding the same errors, and it cannot be
   denied that amongst the dark sayings which we find in his sermons there
   are some which might be so understood. It has been shown in the
   extracts, given from his sermons, that he regarded forms of prayer, and
   saint-worship, and ceremonies, as amongst those things that would "drop
   off" as a man was taught of God, and it would seem that he trusted
   rather to this result, than to arguments which were to prove that such
   things were unscriptural. And therefore, if he met with persons who
   prayed to the saints, he would probably endeavour to lead them on to a
   clearer knowledge of God, without at once telling them that such
   prayers were displeasing to Him. It was easy for a Roman Catholic to
   mistake this for the teaching of the "Brethren of the free Spirit,"
   that a man attained by contemplation to a state wherein he was raised
   above all outward ordinances.

   Tauler also used an expression commonly used by the "Brethren of the
   free Spirit," and by many others since, that of a believer's "being
   united to God." He seems to have meant by this no more than that a
   believer, being made partaker of the Divine nature, and practically
   yielding himself up, body, soul, and spirit, to God, and loving God
   with a single heart, will have his will conformed so completely to the
   will of God, that he is lost, so to speak, in God, and that it will be
   his true experience, "I live no longer, but Christ liveth in me."

   The expression, "union with God," is, however, unscriptural, and there
   are many in our days who would do well to consider this. For there are
   many who admit that the Church is united to Christ, and who yet imagine
   that the Church existed long before the Word was made flesh. They do
   not see that it is to Christ as the Divine Man that the Church is
   united, and this in consequence of His death, resurrection, and
   ascension. And that it is by the baptism of the Holy Ghost sent down
   from heaven, when Jesus was glorified, and not before, that this union
   was wrought.

   It is not strange that many errors, and many truths expressed in
   incorrect words, are to be found in the Master's teaching, and it is
   not to him that we should go for clear statements of doctrine on every
   point. But the Lord has at all times nourished and cherished His
   people, however ignorant. And wherever He has found a heart athirst for
   Him, to that longing heart has He given to drink of the water of life
   freely.

   And thus from the remnants of popery, and shreds of philosophy, and
   from the fragments of many human delusions, we can pick out the jewels
   which shine with the "light of the Stone most precious," and which are
   portions of God's eternal Truth.

   It is also to be constantly borne in mind that to reject the light, and
   choose the darkness, is a very different thing from coming out of the
   darkness into the marvellous light. A man may do this more or less
   completely, according to the circumstances in which he is placed. But
   none can know how much of the land of light remains as yet unexplored,
   for it was into gross darkness that the professing Church went back,
   and it is only by slow degrees that any have won their way back into
   the pure unclouded light of the earliest days, the days, as it has been
   observed, not of the "fathers," but of the forefathers, the Apostles of
   the Lord. Let us therefore press forward ourselves, daily learning more
   of that which the Church possessed and lost.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE MASTER's FRIENDS

   THE Master's chief friend we already know. But as time went on, many
   who were taught by him, formed with him a little company, who spake
   often one to another, and comforted themselves together, and edified
   one another. The friend of whom we know the most, was a banker of
   Strasburg, who was a little more than thirty years old, when Nicholas
   paid his first visit to Dr. Tauler.

   He belonged to one of the chief families of the city. He had been twice
   married, but had no children. He was much beloved in his native city,
   for he was a kind, tender-hearted, cheerful man, fearing God, and
   acting uprightly towards all men. He was by nature fond of retirement
   and quiet, and he had been grieved and troubled by the divisions, and
   heresies, and ungodliness, of professing Christians. His conscience,
   too, left him no peace, for he blamed himself more than others for the
   sad state of the Church, and he lived in constant fear of displeasing
   God. He therefore betook himself to fasting and penances, and thought
   to put to death all his natural feelings.

   He was not yet forty years old when he agreed with Gertrude, his wife,
   that they should both devote themselves to God, and give up all worldly
   employments and pleasures.

   But soon Rulman Merswin, for this was his name, became so weak and ill
   from his constant penances, that Dr. Tauler, for whom he had the
   greatest respect, persuaded him to chastise himself no longer, but to
   leave it to God to give him all the chastening he needed.

   Rulman promised to abstain from his penances for a certain time. But as
   soon as the time was up, he began a fresh course of scourging,
   starving, and torture. He said he wished to kill nature, and so be at
   peace.

   It was natural that as his body grew weak, his mind grew weak also, and
   he began to see visions, and dream dreams, which were no proof of
   spiritual enlightenment, but quite the contrary. For four years this
   strange sad endeavour to tame the flesh, brought sorrow and despair to
   his soul. Then there came a change, for again does Nicholas, the
   mysterious "friend of God," appear on the scene, his name still kept a
   profound secret, but known to us as the "layman" through whom Dr.
   Tauler had been led to Christ. From this time Rulman Merswin retired
   altogether from the world. This must have been about the year 1347.
   That Dr. Tauler is mentioned at that time as giving him counsel and
   instruction, may serve also to explain that Rulman now gave himself up
   entirely to the service of God. But his thoughts as to the service of
   God, appear to have been derived more from the teaching of "the friend
   of God," than from that of Dr. Tauler, who was strangely free from much
   of the error and superstition which still clung to his beloved
   Nicholas. To Nicholas, Rulman submitted himself with a submission so
   complete, that it justifies the name given to this strange man by one
   of his historians -- "The invisible Pope of an invisible Church."
   Rulman Merswin dared not openly to have any communications with "the
   friend of God from the Oberland;" it was but rumoured that he had a
   "secret friend," whose name was never mentioned, with whom he took
   counsel about all things great and small. And his other friend was the
   Master.

   Dr. Tauler had also two faithful friends, who, like himself, never
   openly left the Church of Rome. One was a monk, called Thomas of
   Strasburg who had studied theology at Paris, and had become General
   prior of his order.

   The other had been a Dominican, but had afterwards joined the
   Carthusian monks, and in the year of the Master's conversion, he had
   been chosen prior of a Carthusian convent, which had just been built by
   three of the citizens of Strasburg in the neighbourhood of the city.
   His name was Ludolf of Saxony.

   Both of these "friends of God" wrote books, in which, mixed up with
   much error, the truths are found which they had in common with the
   Master. Amongst these writings, were a letter which they and Dr. Tauler
   jointly wrote, and sent round to all the clergy. It was to counsel them
   to take no heed to the Pope's interdict, but to visit the sick and
   dying without any regard to the curse which lay upon them -- to comfort
   them by directing them to the "death and sufferings of our Lord Jesus
   Christ, who had offered up Himself as a perfect sacrifice for them, and
   for the sin of the whole world, and had perfectly satisfied God; who
   had opened Heaven, and who now intercedes in the presence of God for
   us. And Heaven, which was opened by Him, cannot be shut by the Pope
   against any poor sinner." They said further, that the clergy should
   have more respect to the Word of Christ and His apostles, than to the
   Pope's ban, "which proceeded only from envy and worldly ambition."

   They explained further in another letter, that as all the powers that
   be, are ordained of God, it is impossible that any one to whom He has
   committed authority, should rightly use it to hinder the preaching of
   His Word. For the Word proceeds from God, and to forbid the preaching
   of it would be the same thing as God condemning His own work. Nor could
   it be proved by Holy Scripture, they said, that a man is to be regarded
   as a heretic, because he refuses to kiss the Pope's foot, or because in
   despite of the Pope, he owns as his emperor, a prince duly elected by
   the lawful electors.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXXV

THE VENGEANCE OF ROME

   WE cannot find out what effect this epistle had upon the clergy to whom
   it was sent. But the Master and His friends practised that which they
   had preached, and visited and comforted the sick and dying. And after a
   while it was reported at Rome, that whereas formerly men and women had
   died in despair, knowing that the Pope's ban was upon them, there were
   now many who passed away peacefully and joyfully, in spite of it,
   without confession or absolution.

   The secret of this was found in the letters of the three friends, a
   copy of which was sent to the Pope. These letters were declared by the
   Pope to be heretical, and he specially noted the passages mentioned
   above, and also the fact that the persons who ought to have died in
   despair, were by means of these heresies comforted and made glad.

   The Pope therefore commanded the Bishop of Strasburg to seize and burn
   all the writings of the three friends. No man, priest or layman, should
   read them under penalty of a special curse and excommunication. The
   Bishop complied at once with the Pope's decree. The books and letters
   were seized and burnt. The three friends were banished from the city.

   The Master was deeply grieved. He had now been preaching six years
   since his conversion. The people of Strasburg had learnt to value the
   blessed tidings, and so to love and trust the dear Master, that they
   consulted him about all their affairs, great and small, and he had
   always been ready to listen, and sympathise, and advise, and comfort
   them. In this time of pestilence and famine, and deprived of their
   former teachers by the interdict, they hung upon the words of their
   faithful preacher, and he had seen many of them pass from death to
   life, and from this sad world to Paradise.

   It was therefore no small trial by which the Master's faith was tested.
   "The tower with all its bells" had fallen upon him at last. But the
   Lord stood by him and strengthened him, and though it was the Pope
   himself he was now to resist, he stood firm, and chose disgrace and
   exile, for the sake of Him who is, he said, "our beloved Bishop." "Our
   Bishop is He who shed for us His own precious Blood -- who obtained an
   eternal redemption for us by the Blood which He shed, and has for us
   entered in to the Holy Place, the temple not made with hands. Shall we
   not stand ever ready to shed our blood for Him?" Therefore the Master
   became an outcast, upon whom the ban of the Church had fallen. "It is a
   less thing," he said, "that the world should be crucified to us, than
   that we should be crucified to the world. I may say the world has
   become to me but dung and dross, but that I should become dung and
   dross to the world, is another matter." For Christ, it was sweet to
   him.

   The Master and Thomas took up their abode in the Carthusian convent, of
   which Ludolf was the prior, and there they wrote afresh as they had
   written before, and added more thereto.

   Just at this time, in 1348, the "Parson Emperor," Charles IV, came to
   Strasburg to receive the homage of the city as Emperor of Rome. Bishop
   Berthold had persuaded the chief citizens of Strasburg to acknowledge
   the Emperor for the sake of peace. Therefore, though they despised him
   in their hearts, they received him with imperial honours. The Bishop
   having himself done homage, received in return the imperial fee. The
   interdict was to be removed, by command of the Pope.

   In the bull relating to this agreement, the Pope declared the Emperor
   Lewis a heretic, and required of all the towns who had acknowledged
   him, that they should declare their repentance for so great a sin.

   The Pope's legate, the Bishop of Bamberg arrived at Strasburg with the
   bull, and called together the citizens in the open space before the
   Cathedral. Upon the steps of the Cathedral he stood up, and read the
   bull to all assembled. He then asked the town council and the citizens
   in general, whether they desired to be released from the interdict, and
   to receive the Pope's absolution.

   The chief magistrate, Peter Schwarber, answered for all, "Yes."

   The absolution was pronounced. Then the Bishop of Strasburg turned to
   Peter Schwarber and said, "Sir, you once compelled me to do homage to
   the Emperor Lewis, the heretic, and now that he is dead, you yourself
   call him a heretic."

   The magistrate replied, "My gracious Lord Bishop, I never considered
   the Emperor Lewis a heretic."

   "But you have just said you did," insisted Bishop Berthold.

   Peter Schwarber answered, "The Bishop of Bamberg asked us if we wished
   to receive absolution. It was to that question I said Yes.' Had he
   asked whether I assented to all the articles of the bull, I should have
   given him a very different answer."

   However, in spite of the absolution, the interdict remained in force
   for some years.

   Whilst the Emperor Charles was at Strasburg, in this month of December
   1348, he heard much said about Dr. Tauler, his friends, and his strange
   notions. He therefore sent for the whole party, that he might hear what
   they had to say in their own defence.

   Dr. Tauler read to the Emperor a full confession of his faith. He kept
   back nothing, for he did not fear the displeasure of the Emperor, any
   more than he had feared the curse of the Pope. He explained to the
   Emperor for what reasons he had been banished, and set before him the
   truths he had taught, and which he and his two friends were resolved
   still to teach as they had opportunity.

   The chronicle reports that the words of the Master had such an effect
   upon the Emperor, that he said he was also of their mind, and that he
   would not permit anything to be done to harm or hinder them.

   The Bishops, however, who were present, declared that this teaching was
   heretical, and they commanded the three friends to "desist from acting
   so insolently in defiance of the Church and the interdict." They also
   commanded them to make a public declaration that their writings were
   heretical -- to retract all that they had written, and to write nothing
   more of the sort.

   The chronicle proceeds to say that, instead of retracting anything they
   had said, they persisted the more in their heresies, and wrote more
   books than before.

   The Emperor, however much he may have been of their mind, joined with
   the Bishops, for the sake of peace, he said, in forbidding the three
   faithful witnesses to write or preach.

   And shortly after, the Master left the convent and went to live at
   Cologne, having "spread much good teaching through Alsace," as says the
   chronicle.

   Deeply was he mourned by the people, who loved him and revered him, and
   his name remained a household word in his beloved Strasburg.

   Cologne was also a city dear to his heart, and there he was free to
   preach and teach. It was in the church of the convent of S. Gertrude
   that he chiefly preached, where the nuns greatly needed his
   exhortations. They had for a long while back given themselves up to
   idleness and pleasure, so that even the old nuns were remarkable for
   their costly dresses, and their love for worldly amusements. The
   younger ones naturally followed their example. And yet young and old
   had been in the habit of regarding themselves as holier than their
   neighbours, because they lived within the four walls of their convent.
   Many a wholesome word did they hear from the Master, and it is to be
   hoped that some of them, at least, were awakened and saved.

   The Beghards, too, of Cologne, were a grief to Dr. Tauler. They had
   been led away by the mild philosophy of those times, and though they
   had been persecuted, and many of them burnt, from time to time, their
   errors continued to spread in and around Cologne. Romish Bishops had
   not discovered that the Bible is a better preventive and cure in these
   cases than fire and torture.

   The Master grieved over their delusions, but he resorted to preaching
   rather than persecution. They had fallen into an ancient error which
   had been revived and taught from time to time, by various bewildered
   persons. They believed that the whole material universe is God, and
   that God therefore is but a name to apply to all that we can know by
   our senses or our minds.

   By some mysterious confusion of thought, they mixed up this idea with
   Christian doctrines, and regarded themselves as Christians. But the
   natural consequence of such a belief, was of necessity, indulgence in
   sin, without fear or shame. For if a man is but a part of that which is
   God, all he does is the act of God, and there is none either to condemn
   sin, or to be condemned. It might not after all be as endless a study
   as we might suppose, to discover all the ways by which Satan misleads
   the soul. For we find that under countless names, the same unworthy
   thoughts of God, and the same flattering excuses for sin, appear and
   reappear from the days of Adam till now.

   The thought which has never entered the mind of man, except by the
   miraculous power of the Holy Ghost, is the thought of redemption by the
   precious blood of the Son of God.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE FAREWELL

   WE cannot find out from any history of Dr. Tauler, the exact time of
   his abode in Cologne. He must have gone there first about 1350, and was
   probably there for about ten years. During this time he kept up his
   communications with Nicholas. In the year 1361 we hear of him again at
   Strasburg. He was now seventy years old, and was near his end.

   His aged sister, who was a nun in the convent of S. Claus, not far from
   Strasburg, took him under her care, and lodged him in her garden-house,
   that she might nurse him in his last long illness.

   A "worm-eaten" friend, who had become "dead to nature," was grieved and
   displeased "that nature was thus cherished in him," by the
   companionship of his sister.

   "And now," we find it recorded, "when the Master had thus borne fruit
   for eighteen years," (since his conversion), "God would no longer leave
   His servant in this sorrowful world, and He took him to be with
   Himself, without any purgatory. But He sent him suffering and sickness
   here below, so that he lay twenty weeks in bed, and had weary days and
   great pain. And he knew by the grace of the Holy Ghost, that this was
   his call to leave this world, and to reap the reward of his labours.

   "Therefore he sent for the man, his beloved friend, to desire him to
   come to him, for he knew that the time of his earthly life was very
   short. And the man obeyed, and came to the Master, who received him
   right lovingly.

   "And the man was glad that he found him still living, and said Dear
   sir, how fares it with you?'

   "Then said the Master, I believe the time is very near when God will
   take me from this world, therefore, dear son, it is a great comfort to
   me to have you with me at the last. And I pray you, take the books that
   are lying there: in them you will find written all the conversations
   which you have had with me from time to time, and the answers I gave
   you. And you will find therein something of my life, and of that which
   God has wrought by me, His poor unworthy servant. Dear son, if it seem
   good to you, and if God give you grace to do so, write a little book of
   these things.'

   "Then said the man, Dear sir, I have written five of your sermons, and
   if it seem well to you, I will add them to the little book, and the
   book shall be written in your name.'

   "Then the Master said, Dear son, I adjure you as solemnly as it is
   possible for me to adjure you, by the love of God, that you do not
   write anything on my behalf, and that you do not name my name. For you
   know of a truth, that the life, and the words, and the works which God
   wrought through me, an unworthy and sinful man, are not mine, but His.
   They are His now, and they will be His for ever. Therefore, dear son,
   if you will write something for the profit of our fellow-Christians,
   write it so that neither your name nor mine be mentioned therein. You
   can say, The Master,' and The Man.' Also take heed that you do not show
   the book to any in this city, lest they should perceive that it was of
   me that you wrote, but take it to your own country, and let no man see
   it till after my death.'

   "And there passed after this eleven days, during which time the Master
   had much converse with the man." I grieve to say no record remains of
   these last conversations. "And then the hour came when the Master
   should die. And the people of the city who had loved him, mourned for
   him greatly, and because the man had been so dear to him, and had loved
   him so faithfully, they would have kept him with them, and honoured him
   with many honours. But when he saw this, he fled from the city, and
   went back to his own land."

   Tauler was buried in the convent to which he had formerly belonged, and
   some sixty years ago, the stone which covered his grave, was placed
   upright in the Cathedral of Strasburg, that all the citizens might be
   reminded of him who taught and comforted their forefathers five hundred
   years before.

   And eight years after the death of the Master, a "friend of God " from
   the Oberland, sent to a Beghard house at Strasburg a little book, in
   which were written the things here related, and he wrote therewith, "I
   would gladly have sent you the old book, but as it is written in a
   foreign tongue, you would not have been able to understand it. I have
   therefore spent four days and four nights in copying it in your own
   language."

   It would seem therefore that Nicholas, who had been forbidden to show
   the book to any one at Strasburg till some time after the Master's
   death, had written it first in another language, probably to render it
   of use to some of the friends of God in the distant places where he
   laboured from time to time.

   He seems to have been often in Italy, and was well versed in Italian
   --probably also in French. Afterwards the little book was copied, and
   recopied, and read widely in Germany for centuries that followed.

   And the Master's sermons were also copied many times and sent abroad,
   and many read them, so that 200 years later we find that a Romish
   doctor, Melchior Cano, thought it needful to warn the faithful against
   these dangerous writings, which were, he said, those of a heretic. And
   about the year 1576 the General of the Jesuits published the following
   edict: "Also certain spiritual books, which are not in accordance with
   our views, namely, those of Tauler, Ruysbrock, Henry Suso, and others
   of the sort, are not to be allowed to those of our faith. None of such
   books shall be anywhere preserved in our colleges, unless by the will
   of the Provincial Father."

   And further in 1590, Tauler's sermons were placed by Pope Sixtus V in
   the list of forbidden books, and have also been forbidden in later
   times to the "faithful" of the Church of Rome.

   But Martin Luther said he had found more pure teaching in the writings
   of Dr. Tauler, than in those of all the schoolmen put together. "If,"
   he wrote in a letter to his friend Spalatin, "you desire to make
   acquaintance with sound teaching of the good old sort in the German
   tongue, get John Tauler's sermons, for neither in Latin, nor in our own
   language, have I ever seen any teaching more solid, or more in harmony
   with the Gospel." And for many a long year in the city of Strasburg,
   was Tauler remembered by a name he would have been glad to own, "The
   Doctor who was enlightened by the grace of God," or sometimes, "The
   Master of the Holy Scriptures."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE CLOUD

   AFTER all this history has been told, there remains for us the
   question, what is it that we have learnt in these latter days of fuller
   light, beyond that which the beloved "friends of God," in those old
   days, believed and enjoyed?

   Perhaps few there are, who have learnt more than they learnt. And yet
   it would be unthankful to deny that God has shown us things which they
   desired to see and did not see, although those things were plainly
   written in the Word of God. Their eyes were holden, as ours have so
   often been, as ours still are, with regard to many a blessed truth
   which in time, may be, we shall discover in that treasury of grace.

   Perhaps the chief want that we may remark in the teaching of the Master
   was this: he does not seem clearly to have seen that the favour of God
   to us, and His delight in us, are not to be measured by the blessed
   work of the Spirit in us, but by that which Christ Himself is to the
   Father, who beholds Him and is satisfied. It is upon Christ that the
   eyes of God are set, and it is in Him that we are well-pleasing -- how
   perfectly well- pleasing to the Father's heart! Not a shade or stain,
   not a spot or wrinkle, in that Perfect One who stands before God. His
   righteousness ours, as our sin was counted once to Him.

   The Master saw this last most blessed truth, but he does not seem to
   have been able fully to withdraw his eyes from his own state, and look
   up to Christ as the answer to the inquiry of his heart, "Is God well
   pleased with me?"

   He knew, and believed the love that God had to him, but the delight of
   God in him he did not so fully know, for he measured it more or less by
   the work of the Spirit in his soul.

   Let us not condemn him for this. For in this he was not believing an
   error, but he was looking only at a part, not at the whole, of the Word
   of God. It would be more to the purpose to condemn ourselves.

   For whilst that great and blessed truth, which the Master saw so dimly,
   has been made clear to us -- whilst we rejoice in knowing that we stand
   before God in Christ, and in Him only, we are perhaps apt to forget the
   other part of the truth of God, which the Master saw and taught.

   We see clearly that "herein is love, not that we loved God, but that He
   loved us." But more often we fail to remember, "If ye keep My
   commandments ye shall abide in My love," and "He that loveth Me shall
   be loved of My Father, and I will love him, and will manifest Myself to
   him." That is to say, that our sense and enjoyment of the love of God,
   our communion and rest of heart in Him, are truly measured by the love,
   and obedience, and devotedness to Him, wrought in us by the Holy Ghost.

   "If a man love Me, he will keep My words and My Father will love him,
   and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him."

   The Master understood and felt these words as perhaps few of us do in
   these days of greater light and colder love.

   But when the sense of his own imperfection lay heavy on his heart, it
   would have been well for him could he have looked entirely away from
   himself, and up to Christ, thus to learn that though the cloud had come
   between his soul and God, the unchangeable love of God to His Blessed
   Son, the eternal and perfect delight of God in Him, were also his
   unchangeable inheritance, and that it was only the enjoyment and the
   rest of communion with him, that were at times withdrawn, because this
   rest and gladness are dependent on obedience and faithfulness.

   Thus the Master was at times cast down, and as he said, the sweetness
   and the gladness departed from him; and he then said to himself, "If
   God will have me thus to suffer loss and desolation, His will be done."

   But whilst we would be glad to find that he learnt more clearly his
   acceptance in the Beloved of God, let us also confess with shame and
   sorrow, how often we have allowed this blessed confidence to make us
   careless in our walk and ways, and less grieved and humbled than the
   Master was, when we have so forgotten the words of Christ, that He has
   ceased to make His abode with us.

   Is it not a sad and humbling fact, that very frequently, amongst those
   who speak most of their perfect and changeless acceptance in Christ,
   pride and vanity, deceit and covetousness, strife and division, are
   bringing dishonour to the name of God?

   Let us, therefore, grieve for the Master, that whilst he was down here,
   he saw not all that we see -- but let us grieve more for ourselves,
   that in spite of the light granted us, we love not as he loved, nor
   walk as humbly with our God, as did his "Friends" in the early dawn of
   the day.

   From their words and labours a great harvest sprang up two hundred
   years later, and the stream from which they drank became a mighty
   river, which overflowed the earth. But where is now their love?


   "As the bridegroom to his chosen,

   As the king unto his realm,

   As the keep unto the castle,

   As the pilot to the helm,

   So Lord, art Thou to me.


   As the fountain in the garden,

   As the candle in the dark,

   As the treasure in the coffer,

   As the manna in the ark,

   So Lord, art Thou to me.


   As the music at the banquet,

   As the stamp unto the seal,

   As the medicine to the fainting,

   As the wine-cup at the meal,

   So Lord, art Thou to me.


   As the ruby in the setting

   As the honey in the comb,

   As the light within the lantern,

   As the father in the home,

   So, Lord, art Thou to me.


   As the sunshine to the heavens,

   As the image to the glass,

   As the fruit unto the fig-tree,

   As the dew unto the grass,

   So, Lord, art Thou to me.


   As the lily of the valley,

   White, and pure, and sweet;

   As the lowly violet trodden

   Under wandering feet --

   As the rose amidst the briars

   Fresh and fair is found,

   Heedless of the tangled thicket,

   And the thorns around --

   As the sun-flower ever turning

   To the mighty sun,

   With the faithfulness of fealty

   Following only on --

   So make me, Lord, to Thee."

   --John Tauler
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXXVIII

   NICHOLAS OF BASLE

   IT will be well, after giving this short account of the dear "Master,"
   to relate as far as it is possible to do so, the mysterious history of
   "the Man." This history must be read not only as a very imperfect
   sketch -- for the facts are difficult to ascertain, but also bearing in
   mind, that whilst historians who have carefully examined the few
   documents which throw light on the subject, are fully persuaded that
   "the Man" and Nicholas of Basle are the same person, others have been
   found who doubt it.

   The weight of evidence, however, appears to me to rest with those who
   regard "the Man" as Nicholas of Basle.

   The details that follow are taken chiefly from the writings of "the
   Man" himself, who calls himself only "the friend of God from the
   Oberland." I relate them as they are put together by Dr. Carl Schmidt,
   the historian, who has carefully and conscientiously examined the story
   with every help from authentic sources.

   About the 1308, he says, there was a son born to a rich merchant named
   Nicholas of the Golden Ring, who lived in the city of Basle, and owned
   property in year and near town. The boy was called Nicholas.

   The house of Nicholas of the Golden Ring was next door to a Beguine
   house called the "Black Bear." Margaret, the sister of little Nicholas,
   was a "Beguine Sister," and is mentioned by a friend of Dr. Tauler's,
   Henry of Nordlingen, as "an especial friend of God." There appears to
   have been a meeting of "Brethren" in this Beguine house, and it seems
   probable that the family of "the Golden Ring" were at lease strongly
   inclined to the belief and practice of the "Brethren."

   When little Nicholas was thirteen years old, it came to pass that his
   father took him at Easter time to a church, where he heard "much
   preaching about tile sufferings and the death of the Lord." This for
   the time so filled his heart, that in his blindness and ignorance he
   went secretly to buy himself a crucifix, which he kept hidden in his
   room. Every night he knelt before it, and remained upon his knees
   meditating upon the pain and shame which the Lord suffered. And he
   prayed earnestly that through the death of the Lord he might be brought
   to know His will, and to do it. He asked the Lord to guide him, and to
   show him what manner of life he should lead, and whether he should be a
   priest or a layman. And be besought the Lord that He would make him
   obedient to His will, whether it were sweet or bitter to the flesh. We
   find also that at this time he either had a Bible, or had an
   opportunity of reading one.

   This fact, and also the circumstance that he bought the crucifix
   secretly, and kept it hidden, confirm the probability that the family
   of the Golden Ring were amongst those who were disposed to conform to
   the teaching of the "Brethren."

   In later days, when Nicholas was given up to a life of pleasure, no
   doubt his Bible was forgotten, but the thought that for him the Lord
   had died, followed him at all times and in all places, and every night
   he knelt, as when he was a boy, before his little crucifix, and felt a
   blind sad longing after Him whom as yet he knew not.

   When Nicholas was fifteen years old, his father took him to travel
   about in foreign lands, that he might learn such things as would fit
   him for being a merchant.

   The boy Nicholas had a dear friend at Basle, the son of a knight, who
   was exactly of his own age. And just at the time when he went on his
   travels with his father, his friend was also taken by his father, the
   knight, to travel about to tournaments, and warlike jousts, that he
   might be well accomplished in all knightly learning.

   When the two boys returned to Basle, they became again fast friends,
   notwithstanding that one was of a noble family, and the other the son
   of a merchant.

   Four years later, the father of Nicholas died, and the business fell
   into his hands. This obliged him to make a journey of some months. When
   he returned, he found that his mother also was dead, and he was the
   possessor of a large fortune.

   His friend, the young knight, persuaded him, therefore, to give up his
   business, and live with him "in knightly wise" a life of pleasure.

   Nicholas needed but small persuasion. He rode with his friend to
   tournaments and jousts, they visited together at courts and castles,
   and were made much of by fair and noble ladies, with whom they walked
   "by fountains and in gardens," and whom they entertained with songs and
   travellers' tales. Wherever they went they were welcomed and feasted,
   and before long they had both pledged themselves to fair and noble
   maidens, whom they loved passionately, and who loved them in return.

   The young knight had but a short betrothal. He married his bride, and
   took her home to his castle. But Nicholas was not so happy in his
   courtship, for the family of his bride were not content that she should
   marry the son of a merchant; and though the young knight earnestly
   implored them to consent, year after year went by, and the marriage was
   still deferred. At last four years had past. Nicholas was by that time
   twenty-four years old. He had become impatient. He determined to join
   his friend the knight, who was going on a far journey over the sea. But
   his Margaret entreated him not to leave the neighbourhood, therefore he
   consented to remain, and waited two years longer.

   At the end of that time, the mother of the maiden gave her consent to
   their public betrothal, on condition that Nicholas should settle upon
   his wife the sum of 6,000 florins.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXXIX

A NIGHT TO BE REMEMBERED

   THE day of the betrothal was fixed, and all was made ready for the
   feast which was to be given on the occasion. Many friends were invited.
   The eve of the day, so long looked for, had at last come.

   What follows shall be told in the words of Nicholas himself.

   "I had come to think myself," he says, "one of the best and strongest
   of men who could be found living upon the earth. But it came to pass
   that night, that I went into my chamber according to my custom, and sat
   down before the crucifix, around which I had set some lighted candles.
   There was I all alone till the early morning, and I thought how vain
   and false was all the world could give me, and I thought of the bitter
   end of all the things of the world. And I said thus to myself, Oh thou
   poor unhappy man, how senseless hast thou been, that thou hast loved
   and chosen the things of time, rather than the things of eternity! Thou
   and all the men around thee, how foolish and senseless are ye all, for
   though God has given you richly your senses and your understanding, yet
   have you been dazzled with the glory and the pleasure that last but for
   a little while, and that gain for you at last an eternity in hell;
   whereas you might have gained a reward, and honours and joy that are
   eternal, in the presence of God and His angels!

   "And when I had said this, I thought further, Alas, poor man, what
   doest thou? Leave other men unjudged, and judge thyself, for of that is
   there Deed enough.

   "And when this thought came to me, there fell upon me a great fear and
   sorrow, that I had so sinned against my Lord and my God, that I had
   wasted all the senses that He gave me, in seeking the pleasures of this
   world, and had not turned to Him with my innermost heart.

   "And kneeling before Him on my knees I said, O merciful God, I implore
   Thee now to have mercy upon me a poor sinner, and to come to my help,
   for I must needs with this evil heart of mine, take leave for ever of
   this false and deceitful world, and of all the creatures in it; and
   especially must I give up the one who is right dear to me, and to whom
   I have lost my heart. O blessed Lord, I have thought till now that I
   was one of the best of men who walk upon the earth. Beloved Lord, Thou
   who wert holy and sinless, Thou best suffered a bitter death for me, a
   wretched sinner, and shall not I, who deserve to die, choose to suffer
   even to death for Thee, rather than depart from Thee? And I entreat
   Thee now, that Thou wilt look upon me in Thy fathomless mercy, and that
   Thou wilt be to me as my betrothed and my beloved. For, O Lord, my
   heart tells me that a man cannot exist without love, and it must be
   either the love of God, or the love of the creatures, and Lord, I know
   in my heart, that the love of God and of the creatures cannot stand
   together. And now, Lord, that I have owned this before Thee, behold I
   will choose the better part, and I will give up her who is my betrothed
   according to the flesh, and I will give up the whole world, and all the
   creatures therein, and cleave to Thee, O Lord, firmly and for ever, to
   Thee, Lord, only.'

   "And when I had said this, I felt as though my whole nature gave way,
   for it was a terrible and solemn time of warfare against my own will
   and desire, so that the blood flowed from my mouth and nose, and I
   thought within myself the bitter hour of death was come. But I said to
   myself, O nature, if it cannot be otherwise, even so it must be; if
   thou must die, thou must die.'

   "And again I entreated the Lord and said, O beloved Lord, Thou art now
   the betrothed of my heart, strengthen me, I pray Thee, in Thine endless
   mercy.'

   "And then I stretched forth both my hands, and I said, Beloved Lord,
   this right hand shall stand for Thee, the righteous and the loving God,
   and this left hand shall stand for my evil self, which has gone to the
   left hand in the way that leads to hell.'

   "Then did I place my left hand in my right hand, and said, Thus have I
   vowed and given myself up to God, to be His alone and for ever, having
   no love besides, for He shall be my everlasting love.'

   "And further I said, O beloved Lord, he who is betrothed desires always
   to serve and please his beloved. But, Lord, Thou knowest I have learnt
   nothing of Thy ways, and I have never walked in them, therefore I
   beseech Thee in Thy great mercy that Thou wilt give me understanding
   that I may know how to pray, and how to order all my ways according to
   Thy blessed will, for, Lord, I give myself up to Thee, that thou mayest
   do with me what Thou wilt, and not what I will, be it sweet to me or
   bitter.'

   "And then as I thus offered up my will to God, and my whole nature sank
   within me because of the great and bitter pain, at that moment the
   loving mercy of God shone down upon me, as a fair and lovely light that
   filled the chamber, and I forgot myself and all creatures besides, and
   was lost in joy and wonder, such as I can never tell, nor can the heart
   conceive it.

   "And thus would I fain have rested for ever in this joy and
   blessedness, for the time was all too short for me. And when I came to
   myself, it was as if my heart would leap from my body for joy
   unspeakable.

   "And I said, O my God, my Beloved, what must Thou be to those who for
   long years have served Thee, if thus Thou art to me, a wretched sinner,
   who now for the first time have turned from this world to Thee! Oh, how
   do I hate myself, that I have wandered on for so many years afar from
   Thee in the dark valley of this miserable world!'

   "And at that moment there spake to me a voice, the sweetest and the
   gladdest that ears have ever heard, and thus it spake. Thou beloved of
   my soul, know thou that I who speak to thee am the Lord of lords, and
   the Lord of all things that have ever been, or that ever shall be, and
   thou hast well done that thou hast given up time for eternity, for few
   there are who do so in these evil days, therefore will I take thee for
   My betrothed, and I will be thy Lord and Master, and look thou to
   thyself that thou be obedient to Me, thy Betrothed, and to Me only, and
   that thou do nothing more of thine own will and after thine own heart.
   Wilt thou do thus?' said the sweet still voice.

   "And I answered with my own voice and said, Oh how gladly will I obey
   Thee, my God and my Lord! but I am only now come out for the first time
   from this evil world, and I am ignorant, and I know not what to do.
   Therefore teach me Thy sweet and blessed will, O Lord, that I may do
   it, now and for evermore.'"

   It is well for us to read this true story of a soul awakened by the
   grace and power of the God whom we know more clearly, in the light of
   these latter days. We can see in all that passed that night in the room
   of Nicholas, how entirely unknown to him were the truths that we are
   taught. He had no thought as yet of the power and the value of the work
   done by the Saviour on the cross for him. But he knew that for him the
   Lord had died, and though he did not know the value of that work, his
   heart had felt and owned the love that brought the Saviour to the cross
   of shame, and it was already true of him, blind as he was to much of
   the blessed Gospel, that he loved the Lord, because He had first loved
   him.

   But he had yet to grope his way through the darkness that might be
   felt, the thick darkness of evil teaching and unbelief that covered the
   professing Church, and that was deepest and darkest where the name was
   claimed of the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church.

   As yet the one thought of Nicholas was to do to the uttermost all that
   seemed to him the will of his Beloved. He had not learnt that in things
   Divine, it is the reverse of that saying which is true in our relation
   to men, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." More blessed, and
   far less easy, is it to receive than to give, when first the convicted
   sinner is brought into the presence of God. "If thou knewest the gift
   of God!" might well be said to that poor man, so earnestly longing to
   give, so little aware of the great gift held out to him, and which he
   was to receive at last.

   At last! but it was not yet. We must not be surprised to hear how the
   rest of that night he began in the earnestness of his ignorance, to
   scourge his body, thus to chastise himself because he had loved the
   world so long, and had sinned so grievously. And in the excitement of
   his mind it seemed to him, as he looked at the crucifix in the
   flickering light of the candles, that the figure upon the cross bent
   forward towards him, and as though again and again a voice spoke to him
   and said, "Rise up, and take thy cross, and follow Me."

   The morning came, and with it the bride, and the bridal guests.

   Then Nicholas came in, pale and solemn, and he told them his marriage
   was at an end, for he was espoused to another, and must be His, and His
   alone, for ever.

   In wonder and in anger, the bridal party broke up, and the poor young
   bride was taken weeping to her home. He had determined to see her no
   more. But a few days after, her confessor invited him to a house, to
   which he had taken the maiden, and they were left together. It was a
   terrible moment for Nicholas, for he was quite unprepared for the
   meeting. The young maiden wept bitterly and said, "What have I done to
   thee, my beloved, that thou hast thus forsaken me?" Nicholas wept also,
   but he explained to her that the Lord had called him to be His alone,
   and to take up his cross and follow Him. And the maiden saw that he had
   chosen the better part, and she told him that she too would give up the
   world, and devote herself to the service of the Lord. And she gave him
   all her jewels, that he might sell them for the work of God, and they
   said farewell to one another, and Nicholas saw her no more.

   This sacrifice was but a part of the cross which Nicholas, in his
   will-worship, had taken up. He became a laughing-stock to knights and
   citizens, he was called a fool and a heretic. But nothing moved him,
   though he felt deeply the shame and disgrace, and the scorn of his
   former friends.

   To escape their remarks, he let his house at "the best end" of the
   town, and took a house with a quiet garden in the poorer quarter, where
   he was surrounded only by the dwellings of the poor. He was very soon
   known to his neighbours as a kind and loving man, and they loved him in
   return. He would have given away all his money, but the Lord, he said,
   forbade him to do so, and told him to keep it as His steward, and use
   it for Him.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XL

FOUR SAD YEARS

   AT this time, his friend the knight returned from his long wanderings
   beyond the sea, and inquired at once for his old companion. When he
   heard all that had happened, he determined to bring Nicholas to a
   better mind, and to renew the match in which he was so much interested.

   He came one day to the quiet house in the back streets, and brought
   with him a merry party of friends, who were curious to see the
   transformation in the gay young citizen. Nicholas entreated his friend
   to see him alone, and he then related to him the history of the
   eventful night which had changed the course of his life. The knight
   told him he was a madman, and left him with words of bitter mockery.

   Thenceforth he broke off all communications with him, and Nicholas
   lived a still and solitary life, meditating upon the things of God.

   It was at this time that he began, as he had told the Master, to read
   the Lives of the Saints. He also provided himself with a hair shirt,
   into which he fixed a number of sharp nails. Having scourged himself
   till the blood ran down, he put on his shirt, and drove the nails into
   the bleeding flesh, and having worn the shirt for some days, he would
   tear it off, so as to re-open the wounds, into which he rubbed salt,
   and then again scourged himself, and again wore his shirt with the iron
   nails.

   It is not wonderful that living in his lonely house, worn out with
   fastings and torments, he began, like Rulman Merswin, to see visions,
   and dream dreams. The descriptions of this time are strange and sad,
   and we cannot be surprised that his friend the knight had become fully
   persuaded that he was beside himself.

   But to what lengths will not a reproachful and benighted conscience
   lead a man without Bible knowledge, and without a teacher! We are
   reminded of the history of John Bunyan in later days, who also for want
   of Gospel light, wandered far and wide from the City of Destruction,
   before he came to the wicket gate, which, had he known it, stood close
   at hand, at the very gates of the City from which he fled.

   For the whole of one of the four years, which Nicholas calls the "time
   of his conversion," did he thus wander in the dark, and he heard no
   more the still sweet voice, but consoled himself from time to time with
   strange dreams and delusions, and then again all was dark and hopeless
   to him.

   And towards the end of this year, he says, "I prayed and said, O my God
   and my Lord, I know not how it is with me! I find in these visions and
   dreams, nothing that will give peace to my soul. O beloved Lord, might
   it be that Thou Thyself wouldest satisfy the cravings of my heart, for
   that alone would comfort me, and it would be a comfort immeasurable!'
   But the Lord answered me not.

   "Then again did I begin my penances and torments, till the day came
   which was the same day of the year as that when first the Lord had
   spoken to me.

   "And then it was with me even as it was on that first day that I had
   known Him, and my heart was filled with the same desire after Him. And
   then did the Lord fulfil to me my desire, but it was not by a vision or
   a form, but by that which is beyond all images or forms, or
   understanding, for it was that which is far above all thoughts or
   words. And the time of this joy was all too short, and the hour passed
   by, and I found that I was alone in my little chamber, and again there
   spake to me that voice, the gladdest and the sweetest, which had spoken
   to me at the first, and thus spake the voice to me:

   "Tell Me, My friend and My betrothed, how hast thou lived through this
   year?'

   "Then said I, O beloved Lord, it seems to me that I live not and have
   not lived as I ought to live.'

   "Then spake the sweet voice again, and said, Thou speakest truly.' And
   further did the voice speak to him in his heart, and told him that he
   had had indeed light given him to see his sin, and to long after God,
   but that herein he had lacked humility, such as was found in Mary when
   she gave her will to God, and said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord,'
   and such as was in John when he said, The latchet of His shoes I am not
   worthy to unloose.'

   "Now behold,' did the voice say further, see what thou hast done. Thou
   hast desired to have great visions of God, and He has not granted them
   to thee. But I will tell thee how thou hast seen Him. Thou hast seen
   Him even as if thou wert in the deep dungeon of a tower, where high up
   in the tower there was a window, and the sun shone in through the
   window, and a little beam of light fell down into the dungeon and gave
   a little cheer of gladness to thy heart. Even thus has God dealt with
   thee. He has given thee a little glimpse of Himself, though He was as
   yet hidden from thee. And yet this little glimpse was sweet to thee,
   and no wonder, for like delighteth in like, and thy soul was made in
   the image of God, and can never be satisfied with aught that is less
   than God. But to the enjoyment of this love can no man come till he has
   forsaken himself and is as a man who is dead and gone. And so must it
   be with thee, that thou must cast thyself down before the will of God,
   and leave Him to work His works in thee, in time and in eternity,
   according to His own desire. Wilt thou do this?' said the sweet still
   voice.

   "Then," continues Nicholas, "did I speak to Him in my own voice, and
   told Him I had done that which was evil, and I besought Him in His
   endless mercy to take from me the pride and the self-will, and to make
   me say from my heart, as He had said to His Father long ago, Not My
   will, but Thine be done.'

   "And when I had said this, the sweet voice brake forth, and spake
   again, and said, If now thou wilt be obedient to Me, thou shalt be led
   in the true and the right way, the way in which all loving souls are
   led into the presence of the Father in Heaven.'

   "Then spake I with my own voice and said, O my God and my Lord, gladly
   will I obey Thee, as far as it can be with such as I am, even unto
   death. And now, Lord, do with me a poor sinner, in time and in
   eternity, as Thou wilt, and not as I will.'

   "Then spake the sweet voice and said, that it is the obedience of
   Abraham that thou must learn." And the Lord told him further to burn
   the relics he had hoarded up, and to cease from his penances, and to
   let the Lord give him such inward suffering and exercise as He thought
   good, "and thus," He said, "thou wilt of necessity forget to do the
   outward works that thou hast done hitherto. And now will I say no more,
   and it will be long before I speak to thee thus again."

   "Then," said Nicholas, "I rose up at once, and I took my beloved pears,
   and my piece of cloth, and my golden ring" (these were the relics he
   had prized), "and I went secretly and laid them on the fire, and burnt
   them one and all. And when I had done this, I went back to my little
   chamber, and would have thought about good and holy things, but all at
   once my sins were brought before me, instead of these holy thoughts,
   and I saw as it were all the sins of all my life, just as if I were now
   to suffer the judgment of God for them all. And I then knew that in me
   there was nothing but sin, and that all that I could deserve was
   eternal hell. And in this bitter anguish I remained for one whole year,
   and no comfort came to me, either for body or soul, and were it not
   that the hidden strength of God sustained me, it would have been all
   over with me, for I became sick unto death, and I thought my hour was
   come."

   And thus the second year ended.

   And the third year was Nicholas assailed with great and manifold
   temptations, which lasted for a year also. And in the fourth year the
   temptations were changed, But were yet greater and more grievous, and
   he suffered greatly also from pain and sickness, and could find no
   comfort in God.

   It is as though we were reading again the journey of Christian through
   the valley of the shadow of death. And to Nicholas, as to Christian,
   did Apollyon appear in a shape of terror to assault and wound him. And
   the dark pitfalls were around him, and the evil ones mocked him, and
   railed at him, as he went on his way. And at the end of this year, it
   seemed to him that he came suddenly out of this dark valley, and the
   temptations and the terror left him. And his joy was so great at this
   deliverance, that he feared it was but another temptation of the evil
   one.

   "Then," he says, "I went at once to my chamber, and I fell on my knees
   and said, O my beloved Lord, behold my foolish heart, that is so
   rejoiced at being freed from suffering. I beseech Thee, beloved Lord,
   do not regard my weak and evil nature which thus rejoices, I only
   entreat of Thee that the suffering may be taken away if it is Thy will;
   and if it is Thy will, and for the honour of Thy Father, that it should
   not be taken away, I will gladly suffer all that Thou wilt lay upon me,
   and will esteem it an honour to suffer all that is for Thine honour.
   And I will make no account of the desires of my evil foolish nature,
   but desire only that Thy beloved will should be done in me, whether
   bitter or sweet to me. And be it as it will to my own nature, if it is
   Thy will, do not, O Lord, hearken to my own desires, but keep me, if
   Thou wilt, in grievous suffering, should it be needful for Thine
   honour, even till the day of judgment, and make me to be obedient, and
   to own that I have well deserved it.'

   "And as I spake these words, there shone around me as it were, a fair
   and blessed light, the light that is love; and from the glory of that
   light, a radiance filled my soul, so that whether I were in the body or
   out of the body I could not tell, for my eyes were opened to see the
   wonder and the beauty that are far above the mind of man, and I cannot
   speak thereof, for there are no words to tell it.

   "For the wondrous glory that I saw and felt, was far beyond all the
   thoughts of all men in all time on earth below, and my heart and soul
   were filled with this supernatural light and peace of which I may not
   tell, for I was lost in wonder and in gladness.

   "And as I was marvelling thereat, and rejoicing greatly, I heard as it
   were the gladdest and the sweetest voice, which came not from myself,
   but yet it came to me as one who spake within me, but it was not my
   thoughts that it spake. And thus spake this inner and sweet voice to
   me:

   "Thou beloved and betrothed of My heart, now at last art thou verily My
   betrothed, and henceforth shalt thou ever be, and thou shalt know that
   as I have dealt with thee, so have I dealt with all My beloved friends,
   leading them by the way which thou hast gone these four years past. And
   yet only now art thou at last in the true way, the way of love,
   receiving from Me the forgiveness of all thy sins; and knowing that
   there is no purgatory to come. For when thy soul shall pass from the
   earthly house, it will be to dwell with Me, where the martyrs have gone
   before, in the eternal joy which is thine for ever. And for this joy
   shalt thou wait in peace and gladness, and shalt be content to wait as
   long as it needs must be, till God shall call thee hence. And so long
   as thou art in the earthly body, thou shalt not torment thyself with
   hard penances and chastisements, but shalt simply obey the commandments
   of Christ. And thou shalt find enough to suffer in this present evil
   world, if thou hast learnt to see that thy fellow-men are wandering as
   sheep amongst the wolves. And this shall move thy heart to depths of
   pity, and this shall henceforth be thy cross and thy suffering, and
   thou shalt be well exercised henceforth therewith. And now I have said
   enough; go on thy way simply, as a childlike simple man, living in all
   Christian godliness, so that no man who beholds thee may see aught in
   thee but that thou art a brave and faithful man of God. And now, the
   peace of God be with thee; thou hast now been enlightened with the
   light of God, to know the way in which thou shalt go, and as thou wilt
   need it no more, thou wilt hear no more the sweet voice that speaketh,
   and the wonder and the glory shalt thou see no more in the days of thy
   life below.'

   "And with these words the sweet voice was silent, and there was an end,
   and I came to myself again, and I found that I was in my little chamber
   all alone."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XLI

LIGHT AND DARKNESS

   LET us consider awhile this strange and simple story. It is a story of
   the love and tenderness of Him who has compassion on the ignorant, and
   on them who are out of the way, regarding not how much light they have,
   but how true is the longing of the heart for Him. With clearer light,
   and fuller teaching, the heart of Nicholas would long before have found
   peace, and comfort, and assurance in Christ, and he would have gone on
   his way rejoicing. For he would have understood that the work done on
   the cross for him, had brought him not only out of death and
   condemnation, but had brought him near to God, so near, "that he could
   not nearer be" -- had made him well-pleasing in the eyes of God, in
   Christ the Beloved.

   But though of Nicholas it could hardly be said that, he knew this, it
   is humbling to us to see that he felt it, as few feel it, who could put
   it into words.

   He was not like some who talk of the love of God, meaning thereby that
   He passes over sin as if it were as light a matter as men consider it.
   He was well aware that only through the death of the Lord could
   salvation come to him. But his first thought was not one of gladness
   that he was thus saved, but of deep sorrow and shame that such love and
   such bitter suffering were so lightly regarded amongst men, and most of
   all, that he himself, though he knew these things by the hearing of the
   ear, had lived as though they had never been.

   As with the sinful woman at the feet of the Lord, the assurance of His
   love led her first to weep, and to kiss His feet, before she could pour
   out the oil of joy, which was to tell His praise to all around. And
   thus with Nicholas, who was lost rather in the sense of his sin, than
   in the marvel and wonder of the blessedness which Christ had gained for
   him by His cross and passion.

   He felt the things which now we see; and whilst in all such cases there
   is the danger of measuring them by our feelings, there is, on the other
   hand, the danger of our receiving them too easily, and too lightly.

   Nicholas, as we know, had never forgotten the sermon he had heard as he
   sat by his father's side in the old church at Basle, and it was because
   that sermon was still lying as a hidden treasure in the depths of his
   heart, that on the eve of his betrothal he had knelt, as he ever did,
   before his crucifix; and remembered, blind and ignorant as he still
   was, that for him the Lord had died.

   And now that the voice of Him who hung upon the cross had spoken to
   Him, not from the crucifix, but from the glory, he knew that he had
   forgiveness of his sins, and that he was saved eternally. But he knew
   it, as he truly describes it, from the voice of the Lord to his heart.

   He now began again to read the Bible so constantly, and with such
   earnest prayer for the teaching of the Spirit, that he says the light
   broke in upon him as a flood, and that in the short space of thirty
   weeks he had learnt to understand the Scriptures, and to speak of the
   truths he learnt, "as a man who had studied all his days in the
   schools."

   It seems clear from all we can learn of him, that he really possessed a
   rare knowledge of Scripture, but often clouded by his tendency to
   delight in visions, and in the workings of imagination.

   He continually refers in his tracts to Scripture passages, and requires
   that all should be proved by Scripture.

   But the teaching of the Spirit, acting upon the heart and conscience
   is, he says, a further witness, and the Word and the Spirit must go
   together, for the Scripture can only be understood by the enlightenment
   of the Spirit, and the teaching of the Spirit must always be in
   accordance with the Word.

   Still, we find in reading his strange accounts of his own conversion,
   and of that of others, that like all who have been taught of God, he
   was liable more or less to confound the working of his own mind with
   the voice of the Spirit.

   And, moreover, as a true work of God is always followed up by a
   counterpart imitation on the part of the evil one, so can we trace in
   these histories various delusions which came from a power outside of
   himself, taking advantage of his craving after communion with God.
   Probably in the case of all those who have the most direct spiritual
   intercourse with God, these temptations and wiles of Satan would be
   most frequently traced.

   We must bear in mind, also, that in the days when Nicholas was living,
   an atmosphere of legends and miracles, and old wives' fables was, as it
   were, the air breathed by all alike, Catholics and "Brethren." And we
   can easily assure ourselves, if we look around us, that early teaching,
   and prejudice, and circumstances, exercise a power from which none of
   us entirely escape, and to which many are in bondage, even amongst the
   people of God.

   But it is just this fact which the more enhances the wonderful truth,
   that at all times, and in all places, we find that the same great
   message of God was taught alike to every heart that turned to Him. The
   great truths of the blessed Gospel were taught alike by God the Holy
   Ghost, to Paul and to Patrick, to Nicholas and to Dr. Tauler, to John
   Bunyan and to Dwight Moody.

   And the "music of the Lord" which sounded forth from a thousand chords
   of different tone, was, and ever will be, Christ alone.

   When his penances and tortures were amongst the forgotten things that
   were left behind, Nicholas could teach that these inflictions and this
   will-worship were a sign that the heart had never as yet bowed to the
   will of the Lord. But when He is known and loved and obeyed, the
   sufferings sent by Him will be sweet and pleasant, as a sign that His
   grace is fashioning the soul, to conform it to the image of His Son.

   As time went on Nicholas gained a wide and most extraordinary influence
   over Catholics and "Brethren." At the time when the priests were
   silenced by the interdict, and the hungry sheep who had no shepherd
   were looking all around for help and comfort, Nicholas, and such as he,
   were sought after and reverenced as the special messengers of God.

   To Nicholas went many an anxious soul, confessing sin not lightly, as
   in a confessional, but in the anguish of their hearts. And it must be
   admitted, that to great numbers he became a pope, and in some respects
   more than a pope. For his disciples consulted him about all matters
   great and small, and he claimed from them an obedience which was
   dangerous to them, and to himself.

   Nicholas was not wanting in those weaknesses and shortcomings which we
   know so well in the experience of our own hearts. The strange part of
   his history is that, as far as it was possible, he led a life of
   absolute seclusion, and was yet known and reverenced far and wide, even
   in distant lands. Every now and then he appeared himself, to speak to
   those for whose souls he was anxious. But more often he sent a writing
   by a messenger charged to tell no man where he was, and to call him by
   no name but that of "the Friend of God from the Oberland."

   It was, as we know, twelve years after his conversion that he paid his
   memorable visit to Dr. Tauler. A year or two later, he paid a similar
   visit to his old friend, the knight, of whom he heard that he was
   living a life of sin, much to the grief of his deserted wife.

   The knight received him angrily. He called him a sorcerer and a
   heretic. But at last, at the earnest entreaty of Nicholas, he allowed
   him to speak to him alone in his garden. After many conversations the
   knight was touched and melted. Nicholas spoke to him of the sufferings
   of Christ, and of the love of God, and also of "righteousness,
   temperance, and the judgment to come." And at last the knight confessed
   his sin, and gave his heart to Christ.

   He and his wife then besought Nicholas that he would write down rules
   for their future course. Nicholas refused to do this, but he desired
   the knight to write down the conversations he had had with him in the
   garden. He then advised the knight and the lady to cast aside all
   worldly pomp and show, but to wear at the same time suitable and well
   appointed clothing, plain and simple, to bring up their children in the
   faith and fear of God, and to spend their large fortune in helping the
   poor and needy.

   From this time the knight was known as the defender of the oppressed,
   and the friend and peacemaker among all his neighbours.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XLII

THE SECT EVERYWHERE SPOKEN AGAINST

   IT is very difficult to separate truth from legend in the stories of
   other conversions related by Nicholas. He appears sometimes to write in
   symbolical language, as Bunyan describes the experiences of Christian,
   but it is evident also that he readily believed in supernatural
   appearances and transactions, and one can but sift out, as well as may
   be, the manifest working of God in all these cases.

   We find that Nicholas had devoted followers amongst clergy and laymen,
   along the Rhine as far as Holland, in Swabia, in Bavaria, and in
   Switzerland. In the year 1350 he went on a mission to Hungary, to visit
   two of his converts. Amongst men and women of all classes, in convents
   and in Beguine houses, his name became a household word -- that is to
   say, the only name by which he was known, "the Friend of God from the
   Oberland."

   This name, "the Friend of God," when applied to others, seems
   henceforward to have had a more limited sense than formerly. It became
   an understood thing that a "friend of God," was one who owned the
   mission, and followed the teaching, of Nicholas of Basle, and in
   consequence lived in secret communion with God, and apart from the
   world.

   Thus does Tauler refer to these hidden saints, saying all those are
   blamed by the world, who walk not in their ways, but in the secret path
   of communion. "And as to separation," he said, "there must be
   separation, but it must be in separating from this present evil world,
   and that, dear children, is no sect, unless it be that ancient sect
   that everywhere is spoken against.'"

   In Basle these friends of God became very numerous. A noble lady,
   called Frickin, who joined herself to them, said the blessedness of
   this fellowship was so great, that she felt as if she had come out from
   purgatory into Paradise. Many priests and monks were counted in the
   number of this unsectarian sect; the worthy day labourer mentioned by
   Tauler being an example of one in another class.

   Rulman Merswin, as we have seen, became a devoted disciple of Nicholas,
   who visited him in secret, and sent him one by one the tracts from
   which we learn the history of his life. Sometimes he sent him tracts
   written by others, and copied out by him. And finally these tracts were
   almost entirely re-copied by another Nicholas, who was a scribe in the
   community founded later on by Rulman Merswin.

   This scribe, Nicholas von Laufen, who appears to have been by no means
   amongst the most enlightened of men, was in the habit of adding or
   inserting passages, especially rhapsodies relating to the Virgin Mary,
   which confuse and deface the stories related by Nicholas of Basle. We
   must disentangle these various threads as best we may, only being
   thankful to know that this bewildering habit of Nicholas von Laufen is
   a matter of history, and not a convenient theory invented to explain
   the contradictions and inconsistencies in the writings of Nicholas of
   Basle.

   At the same time it seems evident that Nicholas of Basle did not think
   of prayer to the Virgin Mary as a sin, when he met with those who were
   in the habit of praying to her. Yet he never directs any to do so, and
   in his own case, he appears on all occasions to have turned simply to
   the Lord.

   During the great pestilence of the black death, which raged for three
   years, ending in 1350, he sent to his friends an address, warning them
   of the various sins which brought upon them this judgment.

   He tells them that on Christmas Eve he was lying awake, feeling very
   ill, and that he got up and prayed that the Lord would cheer him with
   the joy of Christmastide. And in reply the Lord brought before him the
   great sins of Christendom, and the sorrow and anguish he felt, so added
   to the illness that was upon him, that he was carried to bed, where he
   remained till S. John's day, when his strength returned, and he got up
   and prayed, saying: "My Lord Jesus Christ, God of all mercy, I marvel
   that Thou hast smitten me with this great grief at the time of the
   festival of Thy holy childhood."

   "And then," he says, "it was shown to me by the light of God shining
   into my understanding, that it was not seemly that a man who had
   yielded himself to God, and who loved God, should be taken up with such
   child's play, at a time so solemn. And therefore I could only pray that
   the Lord would have mercy upon Christendom, remembering the sorrow and
   affliction which He had endured for three and thirty years, and
   remembering the precious Blood which He had shed, and His bitter death,
   and all those afflictions which were left to be filled up by all His
   saints, who were to follow in His steps."

   And having spoken of the sins which grieved the Lord, he ends his
   letter by earnest counsel to those who called themselves Christians.

   "I counsel you," he says, "in true godly love, and in brotherly
   faithfulness, that you turn right round from this evil world, to behold
   the sufferings and the death of our dear Lord Jesus Christ. For in
   these our days His death and His sorrow are everywhere forgotten
   amongst us. And yet He is our Head, and Christian men are called to be
   His members. And He has called us to take up the cross and follow Him,
   whereas we have turned aside to our own ways, and have wandered far
   therein.

   "But for those who break with this evil world, and turn to God, how
   blessed is the secret converse of their souls with Him, their Lord and
   their God! And when they come to the hour of death, and the lips can
   speak no more, yet can they in spirit speak in heavenly speech to Him.

   "Ah, beloved Christian men, stand gladly up, and flee from this
   deceitful, unprofitable world! I tell you in honest truth, I too was
   once a man of the world, and well do I know the passing, empty joy the
   world can give. And I also know somewhat of God's blessed grace, how
   He, here in this present time, dwells with His friends in His secret
   place.

   "And therefore I can speak truly when I say that in one short hour I
   have found more comfort and more joy in God, than a man could find if
   he had all the comfort and joy of all the world, and knew that he could
   have it in full measure until the judgment day. And further, I speak
   truly, when I say that all the joy of the world would be but as a drop
   of water compared with the great and boundless sea.

   "Further," continues Nicholas, "I advise you gladly to hear preaching,
   and to read good books, whereby you may be well instructed. Some of
   your teachers will tell you that German books are hurtful and
   dangerous. In one way that is true -- in another way it is false. But
   such books as are not contrary to Holy Scripture, are useful to simple
   laymen, and very good to read, and you should not allow your teachers
   to forbid you such books as these, be they teachers ever so great and
   learned, but seeking the honour of this world rather than God.

   "But when you find teachers who are not seeking themselves, be obedient
   to them, for the counsel they give you comes from the Holy Ghost. And
   if Christendom, such as it now is, is ever to be brought again into
   Divine order, it must be by taking counsel of the Holy Ghost. And such
   counsel is never contrary to Holy Scripture, for the Holy Scripture and
   the Holy Ghost accord one with the other.

   "But the teachers who are untaught in the knowledge of God, have led us
   on into a miry slough, and cannot tell us how we are to get out of it.
   And therefore whoever it be who should come to me and ask where he
   should go for counsel, I would advise him in all godly faithfulness to
   seek for the counsel that comes from the Holy Ghost, whether it come
   through a priest, or through a layman. But such men, who can give
   counsel that comes from the Holy Ghost, are scarcely to be found in
   these our days, but though they are few, they are yet here and there
   amongst us. Howbeit, though such men are rich in wisdom, they are
   mostly hidden and unknown. One such man in any land, would be a
   safeguard and a tower of strength to all that land, if men would learn
   of him, and follow his counsel. But this needs the faith that men have
   not."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XLIII

THE MOUNTAIN HOME

   AS time went on, Nicholas felt yet more deeply and painfully, the sin
   and misery of the fallen Church. He determined to withdraw to some
   secret and solitary place, there to pray for Christendom, and from
   thence to go forth from time to time, as God should send him, to preach
   repentance, and to call sinners out of the world to God.

   The history of his life now becomes more difficult to trace, for his
   mysterious dwelling-place was only known to four friends, and to two
   servants, who joined themselves to him, placing themselves entirely
   under his directions; and to some true and worthy men who went out as
   his messengers, with letters to the friends of God in distant places.

   It seems clear that the retreat of Nicholas was high up on some
   mountain in the Bernese Oberland. Some think, and with some
   probability, that it was on Mount Pilatus, near the shores of the lake
   of Lucerne.

   During his many travels, Nicholas had found here and there like-minded
   men, and his four friends appear to have shared his belief, his joys
   and sorrows, in sympathy that is rarely found.

   The first was a man who had lived for eighteen years in the practice of
   penances and mortifications, till the Lord had set him free, and filled
   him with a joy which passed all the thoughts of men.

   The second was a young knight, one of those who had come in the company
   of his old friend, to mock at him, and revile him, when he had given up
   his Margaret, and had retired to the house in the back streets.

   This young knight had married a wife to whom he was deeply attached,
   and had in the course of four years, two children. But he fell into a
   state of gloom and sadness, for the world could not satisfy him, and he
   was troubled at the thought of his sins. He desired to give himself up
   to the Lord, forsaking wife, children, and all that he had.

   He went to consult his priests and teachers, but could find peace
   nowhere. He then told his wife that he felt that he must leave her. He
   reminded her of various saints, especially of S. Oswald and S.
   Elizabeth, who had left wife and husband and children, and he told her
   that she also ought to give herself up to the Lord. For it would be
   better to lose one another for a few short years, and to have eternal
   joy together in Heaven with God.

   His wife, however, assured him that he was a madman, but yet, as he had
   taken her for better or for worse, he ought to remain with her, and be
   a good husband to her, and a good father to his children.

   The poor young knight knew not where to go for counsel, and at last
   remembered his old friend of former days, whom he had once regarded as
   a madman, as his wife now regarded him.

   To Nicholas he betook himself, and told his mournful tale. Nicholas
   said to him that it would be right for him to go home, and live
   peaceably with his wife, for that as long as she lived, he had no right
   to leave her. For some years this went on. The young knight had to
   suffer much from the reproaches of his wife, and her friends and
   acquaintance, who gave him many hard names, and pitied her for having a
   husband who was a "right-down fool."

   We can only wish that the knight had had to bear these persecutions in
   a better cause, but he too was like a man in a dark dungeon, upon whom
   one little ray of light had fallen from above, and a benighted
   conscience will lead us into many strange and evil ways.

   After a time his wife died, sincerely repenting of her unkindness. She
   left her children in charge of her relations. The knight now betook
   himself again to Nicholas, who told him to claim his children, to live
   on good terms with his wife's relations, to live quietly, and yet to
   have all things in his household and dress, suitable to his condition,
   neither allowing show and vanity, nor unseemly disorder.

   It happened, however, very shortly afterwards, that first one child,
   and then the other, died from accidents. The knight was now alone in
   the world, and he entreated Nicholas to let him live with him, at first
   at Basle, and afterwards in his mysterious home upon the mountain.

   The third friend had been a lawyer, and the prebend also of a
   cathedral. On joining Nicholas, he was ordained as a priest, as was
   also the young knight.

   The fourth friend, who joined the party somewhat later, was a rich and
   learned Jew, called Abraham. This man had been troubled in his mind for
   a long time, because it seemed to him very evident that the great
   prophecies about the reign of the Messiah had never been fulfilled. The
   Messiah, he said to himself, has never come, though so many ages have
   passed by. And it troubled him also, that the chosen people of God, to
   whom the promises were made, were scattered and persecuted, and their
   land was trodden down by the Gentiles.

   At times the thought came to him, "Can it be that the Christians after
   all are right, when they say that Jesus of Nazareth is the Son of God,
   and the Saviour who was promised?" And again he said to himself, "It
   cannot be so, for if He were, how could His followers live in such
   forgetfulness of Him, leading lives of sin, and hating one another?"

   He prayed to God that He would enlighten him, and show him where to
   find the answer to his question, "What is truth?"

   Again, as in all these stories, dreams and visions were sent to him,
   which need not be related. We will limit ourselves to the credible part
   of the story, which is that he went to lodge with a Christian
   shoemaker, called Werner -- that Nicholas, in consequence of a dream
   that he had, went to seek him out, and had many conversations with him.

   Finally, the Jew believed and was baptized, and received the name of
   John.

   With these four friends Nicholas determined to retire to his mountain,
   though at first the whole party lived together at Basle. They were each
   of them men possessed of considerable wealth, which they determined to
   keep in their own hands, spending it to relieve the poor, and to pay
   the expenses of their missionary journeys.

   Nicholas, though he was a layman, and two of his friends were priests,
   took the direction in all respects, and all obeyed him most implicitly.
   Besides these four friends who lived with him, he had others who were
   in constant communication with him, in Hungary, Italy, Lorraine,
   Switzerland, and Bohemia.

   The mission to which these Friends of God believed themselves to be
   called, was the reformation of the Church -- not so much with regard to
   doctrine and to forms, but rather, it was laid upon them to rouse the
   dead consciences of professing Christians, that faith might be to each
   one a reality, and that souls might pass from death to life.

   It would seem that it was not till about the year 1374 that Nicholas
   retired to his mountain. From this secret dwelling he sent constant
   messengers to the Friends of God in most of the countries of Western
   Europe. These messengers had private signs and passwords, by which they
   might know one another when they met in distant places. They returned
   from their various missions, to bring Nicholas reports of the work of
   God in the countries through which they had travelled. He used the
   information he thus obtained about individual persons, firstly, for the
   purpose of writing letters of warning or counsel, only saying that "the
   Lord had made known to him" this or that matter, which had called forth
   his letter; and secondly, in order that their affairs might be made the
   subject of prayer in the mountain home.

   He almost always refused to receive visits, as he wished his
   dwelling-place to remain a profound secret. Nor did he confide his own
   affairs to any one, except an unknown friend. "When God takes this
   friend from me," he said, "I must find another, but only one."

   The story of the journey of the five friends to their mountain home is
   also mixed up with legendary tales. They say that they were guided to
   the place where the Lord would have them build their house, by
   following a dog, having asked the Lord thus to make known to them the
   exact spot which He had chosen. They therefore followed the dog over
   hedges and ditches, over crags and bogs.

   Once the dog stood still near a large town (perhaps Lucerne), which
   dismayed them greatly, for they "did not love towns," and had only
   lived so long in Basle in obedience to the Lord.

   However, the dog started afresh, and at last stopped again in a lonely
   place on a high mountain, where they were rejoiced to see a clear and
   beautiful stream flowing down to the valley below.

   They could not begin to build their house without leave from the Duke
   of Austria, in whose territory they were, and as he was gone to the
   wars, this delayed them for a whole year. They then began their
   operations, intending to build a dwelling-house and a chapel. Each
   friend was to have a comfortable bedroom of his own, and there were to
   be spare rooms for any foreign Friends of God who might be allowed on
   rare occasions to spend a time of seclusion with them, for the purposes
   of readings and prayer.

   The two servants, Conrad the cook, and Rupert the messenger and
   man-of-all-work, were also amongst the Friends of God. Although Conrad
   had undertaken the kitchen department, it is not out of place to call
   Rupert the man-of-all-work, for Conrad is described by Nicholas as
   going into trances, and having visions, even at the moment when dinner
   was in a state of preparation. "One morning," he says, "when the
   brethren were praying in the chapel, it came to pass that Conrad went
   into a trance as he sat before the kitchen fire, where the pot was
   boiling, with the great spoon in his hand. And there he sat, and knew
   nought of all that was going on. And when we saw that he was not likely
   to come to himself, and that he neither spoke nor moved, we called in a
   poor little boy to be with him in the kitchen.

   "And as he still sat there, and gave no answer when the boy spoke to
   him, the boy thought he was dead, and came crying into the chapel
   whither we had gone back, and said, Come quickly! my master the cook is
   sitting in the kitchen before the fire, quite dead!' Then we all went
   quickly into the kitchen, and found him still sitting there, with the
   great spoon in his hand. Then we tried to get the spoon out of his
   hand, but we could not do so. So we took him sitting just as he was,
   and set him down outside the kitchen, because he was too near the hot
   fire, and we left him as long as it should please God that he should
   continue thus. And one of our brethren finished the cooking out of good
   will.

   "So much for our beloved cook, whose dishes we eat with more pleasure
   than those cooked by any one else, and when he cannot cook, we cook for
   ourselves."

   Rupert, on the other hand, seems to have been always wide awake, for,
   says Nicholas, "it is he who looks after the whole house, and
   everything that we have. And from time to time we have pleasant little
   talks with him, and sometimes we say, Dear Rupert, how comes it that
   you are not such a holy man as our cook?'

   "And then he says, And if I were, who would look after all your
   affairs, I should like to know?'

   "Then we speak further to him and say, According to God's word, the
   cook has chosen the better part,' to which he answers promptly, The
   Lord can do what He will, and had Martha done what Mary her sister did,
   there would have been no dinner, unless He had worked a miracle, as He
   did with the five loaves.'

   "Such talks have we with Rupert, and he answers to all we say in such
   godly wise, that I cannot but trust that he is, in his way, one of the
   dear friends of God, for he shows all godly faithfulness to us as if to
   himself, and godly love more than to himself."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XLIV

THE HOUSE OF THE GREEN MEADOW

   THE five friends did not live together after the manner of monks, for
   they had no rules, and said they required none, for they had placed
   themselves under the direction of God. They met in the chapel, but not
   at fixed hours, for prayers and worship. They fasted, or abstained from
   fasting, on the fast days of the calendar, leaving it to the Lord to
   direct them in this, as in all matters. They therefore observed no holy
   days.

   Their time was filled up with walks in the woods around, for
   meditation, or for conversation with one another. They were also
   constantly occupied with hearing and answering the communications
   brought to them by the messengers. Occasionally they took journeys
   themselves to visit the Friends of God.

   About the year 1365 Rulman Merswin had bought a small island in the
   Rhine, called the Grunen Worth, or the Green Meadow. He built on this
   island, out of the ruins of an ancient cloister, a large house, which
   soon became well known as the resort of the Friends of God. He had
   first intended to build a convent, but Nicholas told him there were
   more convents already than pious people to live in them, and it was
   therefore decided between the two friends that it should be a house set
   apart "for the help of the needy."

   Later, they decided further that it should be a "house of refuge for
   honourable and well-inclined men, either priests or laymen, knights or
   servants, who desired by the leading of God to retire from the world,
   and amend their lives."

   In the first written mention of this house, by Rulman Merswin (1377),
   he calls it a Gotteshaus, or House of God. This was the usual name of
   the Beghard houses amongst the "Brethren." No church was attached to
   this house, only a small chapel; for Nicholas said he was no friend of
   "stone-vaulted churches," and he warned his friend against the building
   of "great minsters, with costly vaulted roofs."

   The inmates of this house were to live at their own cost, being
   provided only with lodging, light, and fuel. The whole house was placed
   under the direction of Nicholas, who sent secret despatches to his
   friend, Rulman Merswin, and occasionally came himself to visit the
   house, but not the inhabitants, with the exception of the founder, who
   at first went there occasionally to inspect it, and later on retired
   there for the remainder of his days. The utmost that the other
   inhabitants ever saw of Nicholas or his messengers, was their shadow
   from time to time in the passage. Even the name of the "Friend of God
   from the Oberland," was unknown to them, though they were well aware
   they were all placed implicitly under his direction.

   In the year 1371, for reasons which have not been ascertained, Rulman
   made over the house to the religious order of the Knights of S. John.
   This order had been originally founded in the eleventh century, for the
   protection and relief of pilgrims at Jerusalem, and a hospital had been
   opened there under their charge, for sick pilgrims or crusaders. As the
   Saracens regained their power, and the Christian kingdom of Jerusalem
   came to an end, the knights were scattered, though having their
   headquarters at first in Cyprus, then Rhodes, and afterwards in Malta.

   The knights of the Green Meadow were no less under the secret direction
   of Nicholas, than the former inhabitants had been. There appears to
   have been all along an understanding between this order of knights and
   the Beghard "Brethren." Probably because both were so, generally
   employed in the care of the sick. And in days of the Emperor Lewis, the
   Knights of S. John had taken up a decided stand in defence of his
   cause.

   There was therefore much in common between them and the "Brethren."
   Most likely the House of the Green Meadow had been usually regarded as
   a Beghard "House of God." Such houses were most commonly placed under
   the direction of a Waldensian apostle, or as he would be otherwise
   called, a "Friend of God." And the complete submission of all the
   inmates of the house to Nicholas, was therefore a feature in common
   with Beghard houses.

   In the year 1369 the Emperor Charles IV sent out from Lucca a decree of
   terrible severity against the Beghards, authorising the inquisitors to
   proceed to extraordinary measures against them. The Beghard and Beguine
   houses were seized, and the inmates driven forth, or in many cases
   burnt as heretics. The houses were made over very generally to the
   third order of the Franciscan monks, or to some of the religious orders
   of knighthood.

   It seems probable that Rulman Merswin foresaw some such seizure of his
   "House of God," and that he therefore made it over to the Knights of S.
   John, who were of all the orders, the most nearly allied to the
   Beghards. It is from this time that the names Beghard and Beguine have
   a different signification, meaning no longer "Brethren," but members of
   a Roman Catholic order. But the original and true Beghards and Beguines
   were persecuted with relentless fury, as were the Waldensian "Brethren"
   in general, for a long time afterwards. Multitudes were burnt during
   the years that followed the decree of the Emperor Charles. At Steier
   alone 100 men and women perished in the flames in the year 1391, and a
   list of other towns where large numbers were burnt, would be a very
   long one. The Knights of S. John and the Teutonic knights did not
   altogether escape.

   And it is amongst these knights that we can trace the unknown author of
   a book published nearly 150 years later by Martin Luther, who regarded
   it as a precious discovery. It is spoken of in the original preface as
   the work of "a Friend of God, of the order of German knights." In
   sending it forth, Luther wrote: "Next to the Bible and S. Augustine's
   books, I have never met with any book out of which I have learnt more
   of God, Christ, man, and all things. For truly neither in Latin nor in
   German, have I met with theology which was more sound, or more in
   accordance with the Gospel." He gave to this book the name of "German
   Theology."

   The knights, however, who were chosen by Rulman Merswin to inhabit his
   "House of God," were neither enlightened, nor apparently remarkable for
   piety. On the contrary, he says, that being grieved by their worldly
   ways, he received them there in the hope of amending their lives. It
   would seem that the letters written by Nicholas were carefully worded
   in such a manner as not to shock their Romanist prejudices. Though his
   name remained unknown, his letters were received with the deepest
   reverence. Probably, had his name been known, his letters would have
   been less esteemed.

   The knight commander, who was at the head of the house, determined to
   build and adorn a gorgeous choir for the chapel. But a message came to
   him from the unknown "Friend of God," telling him that this building
   had been undertaken without the counsel of the Holy Ghost, and
   proceeded from secret pride and vanity, and a desire to outdo other
   religious orders.

   "In three and thirty years," wrote Nicholas, "I have remarked in many
   lands, how severely God has punished such outbursts of pride. In many
   towns have I seen how He has avenged His cause, when such blind
   undertakings have been set on foot. I have seen great and costly
   cathedrals overthrown by earthquakes, whilst simple wooden churches
   remained standing. Therefore, in the love of God, I beseech you to
   content yourself with a wooden building, suited to these dark days."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XLV

NICHOLAS AT ROME

   IN the year 1377 the fallen state of the Church seems to have weighed
   more heavily than ever before on the mind of Nicholas. Eight years
   before he had written, "If Christendom remains as it is, in a very few
   years the wisest will not know which way to turn, unless God should
   bestow upon them supernatural light."

   In the year 1376 the Pope, Gregory XI, who, like his predecessors, had
   held his court at Avignon, returned to Rome. The following year,
   Nicholas, and his friend the former lawyer, determined to go to
   headquarters, and represent to the Pope the sin and apostasy of the
   Church.

   But the journey was long and expensive, and the corn and wine which the
   five friends had to sell, fetched a very low price in the midst of the
   plentiful harvests of the Swiss valleys. It would cost them no less
   than sixty crowns to go to Rome and back.

   But John, the converted Jew, came to their help. He knew that his
   brother Moses, and his sister Susanna, were almost persuaded to be
   Christians. To them he sent for money, which they readily gave him. But
   it was now winter, and Nicholas, who was more than sixty years old, was
   ill, and little able to bear the journey. They therefore deferred their
   mission till Easter, which was that year at the end of March.

   When they arrived in Rome, Nicholas inquired for a former friend, a
   Roman gentleman, of whom he had not heard for many years. He found that
   his friend was still alive, and glad to see him. He welcomed the whole
   party, that is to say, Nicholas, his friend, and servants, and found
   room also for the horses and the carriages.

   "I wonder," he said to Nicholas, "that in your old days you have taken
   such a long journey to come to court. You must needs have some very
   weighty matter on hand."

   Nicholas replied, "It is as you say. We are come to see the Holy Father
   on a very solemn errand."

   The Roman said "I am well able to introduce you to him, for I am very
   intimate with him, and he often asks me to dinner."

   Three days later the Pope granted them an interview. The ex-lawyer
   spoke to him in Latin, Nicholas in Italian.

   They said, "Holy Father, the great and grievous sins of Christendom
   have risen to such a pitch, in all classes of men, that God is greatly
   displeased. You must consider what is to be done in such evil case." "I
   can do nothing," replied the Pope shortly.

   Then Nicholas told him that his own sins were great and grievous, and
   that God had made known to him how evil was the life he led, and, he
   added, "Know of a truth, that if you do not turn from your evil ways,
   and judge yourself before God, He will judge you, and you will die
   before the year is out."

   The Pope was much enraged at this unwonted address, but Nicholas
   replied calmly, "We are quite willing to be put to death, if the tokens
   which I am prepared to give you, are not sufficient to prove that we
   are sent by God."

   "What tokens, I should like to know?" demanded the Pope angrily.

   Nicholas told him that which the Lord had made known to him. And the
   Pope sat for a while speechless.

   Then he rose from his seat, and embraced them, and spoke kindly to
   them, and said, "Could you but give such tokens to the Emperor, it were
   well for Christendom."

   He now wished to detain them at Rome, and to lodge them in a princely
   manner, that they might be always at hand to counsel him.

   But they said, "Holy Father, permit us to go home. We will always be
   obedient to your request, should you send for us again, however often.
   But we desire no earthly goods, only the honour of God, and the eternal
   salvation of Christian men."

   On further conversation the Pope found that their house on the mountain
   was not yet finished, and he offered them a large sum of money, to
   complete the building which they refused, but they accepted a written
   order addressed to the clergy in the neighbourhood, commending them to
   their good offices. This they probably thought would save them from
   hindrance and opposition on the part of the clergy.

   They returned on horseback, for their friend, the Roman citizen,
   provided them with good hacks, instead of the cumbrous carts and the
   unwieldy horses with which they had arrived.

   But the Pope, who, like Herod, had listened gladly, like Herod also,
   continued to live in sin, and he died just within the year, April 8,
   1378.

   The letter which he had given them had the desired effect of gaining
   them the good will of the clergy and council of Lucerne. But to go down
   to Egypt for help, or to accept help from Egypt, leads always to the
   same discovery that the Egyptians are men and not God, and their horses
   flesh and not spirit. We find that during the remainder of the year
   1377 they were, as Nicholas describes it, "in sore straits, and knew
   not what would be the end of it." He said events might happen which
   would oblige them, all five, to leave their secret home, and go forth
   to the "five ends of Christendom," but that they must wait the call of
   the Lord, and abide His time.


   "From the glory and the gladness,

   From His secret place;

   From the rapture of His presence,

   From the radiance of His face;

   Christ, the Son of God, hath sent me

   Through the midnight lands;

   Mine the mighty ordination

   Of the pierced hands.


   Mine the message grand and glorious,

   Strange unsealed surprise;

   That the goal is God's beloved,

   Christ in Paradise.

   Hear me, weary men and women,

   Sinners dead in sin,

   I am come from heaven to tell you

   Of the love within;


   Not alone of God's great pathway

   Leading up to heaven;

   Not alone how you may enter,

   Stainless and forgiven;

   Not alone of rest and gladness,

   Tears and sighing fled;

   Not alone of life eternal

   Breathed into the dead.


   But I tell you I have seen Him,

   God's beloved Son;

   From His lips have learnt the mystery,

   He and His are one;

   There, as knit into the body.

   Every joint and limb,

   We, His ransomed, His beloved,

   We are one with Him;


   All in marvellous completeness,

   Added to the Lord,

   There to be His crown of glory,

   His supreme reward.

   Wondrous prize of our high calling!

   Speed we on to this,

   Past the cities of the angels,

   Farther into bliss;


   On into the depths eternal

   Of the love and song,

   Where, in God the Father's glory,

   Christ has waited long,

   There to find that none beside Him

   God's delight can be;

   NOT BESIDE HIM, NAY, BUT IN HIM,

   O BELOVED, ARE WE."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XLVI

THE CHARIOT OF FIRE

   FURTHER tidings from the mountain are very difficult to sift from the
   strange, wild, and senseless legends which were preserved in the House
   of the Green Meadow, and called by Nicholas of Laufen the "Writings of
   the Friend of God from the Oberland."

   That these strange tales were sent by some secret friend to Rulman
   Merswin appears to be certain. But whether he had several of these
   friends, and amongst them those who shared his love of dreams and
   visions, we cannot tell. "None of these writings," says Dr. Keller,
   "have come to us directly from the hand of the author, and bearing his
   name. On the contrary, we possess them only through a threefold medium,
   namely, through the Friend of God,' Merswin, and the copyist. Now it is
   proved in several cases, that individual writings, which are attributed
   by those from whom we derive them, to the authorship of the Friend of
   God,' are decidedly not from his pen; and further it is proved, that
   other writings which were given forth as his, have been flagrantly
   interpolated and altered by Merswin, and perhaps also by the copyist.

   "The difficult question therefore arises, which are the books, or
   portions of books, really written by the Friend of God;' and on the
   other hand, which are the writings to which the editors attached his
   name, perhaps with a view of gaining a greater respect for their own
   personal opinions.

   "A further question arises; certain as it is that the Friend of God'
   was a more or less voluminous author, it is equally certain that some
   at least of the writings attributed to him were ancient relics of the
   literature of the old evangelical communities, which he either copied
   or touched up. And these again, before they passed out of the hands of
   Merswin, were again touched up; and finally the copyist added his own
   elaborations to all that went before.

   "And again, we have the yet further difficulty to encounter, that under
   the pressure of those dangerous times, when the author, the receiver,
   and the copyist were alike writing for the uninitiated (outside of the
   circle of the friends of God), they considered it necessary to disguise
   as much as possible the true origin and character of these writings,
   and to produce them at last in an unsuspicious form.

   "This motive had its due weight with the Friend of God, with Merswin,
   and with Nicholas von Laufen, and neither of them allowed a writing to
   pass from his hand, without effacing from it as far as possible all
   conspicuous marks of heresy. In the only one of these writings which
   appears to be an autograph, the author says emphatically, Know, that if
   you knew who I am, I would not write to you,' which is as much as to
   say, Know, that if you knew who I am, you would not be willing to
   receive anything written by me.'

   "Considering all these circumstances, I do not so much wonder at
   finding in these writings several expressions which accord with
   orthodox Catholic belief, as I wonder at the circumstance, that in
   spite of such mutilations, the Waldensian character of the authorship
   is so plainly manifest." This part of the history must remain, to a
   certain extent, a mystery.

   But we must bear in mind the above-mentioned facts that the name of
   Nicholas was attached to none of these writings, and that it was
   Nicholas von Laufen who collected and copied them, calling them all
   alike the tracts of "the Friend of God from the Oberland."

   It seems to be certain that Nicholas made occasional journeys to Metz,
   Strasburg, and other places, during the time that the five friends were
   awaiting the call of God to go forth on their separate missions. At one
   time he proposed to Rulman Merswin to prepare him a little room in the
   Green Meadow, but apart from the House of God, where he might live
   alone, and only receive visits from the knights on stated days. This,
   however, seems never to have come to pass.

   Rulman Merswin died in the House of the Green Meadow in the summer of
   1382. Before his death, the knights entreated him to tell them the name
   of the messenger, who had been in the habit of bringing him letters
   from his secret friend. They wished by this means to carry on
   communication with Nicholas, when their founder was dead. But Merswin
   told them that the messenger, who was none other than the worthy
   Rupert, had died a short time since.

   Some "Friends of God" from Strasburg, then set forth on a journey of
   discovery, determined to find out the secret home on the mountain. But
   they came home, having failed, they said, to find it. But Merswin, when
   he heard the exact route they had taken, said that they had spent a
   night under the same roof with the five friends, without having found
   them out.

   When Merswin was dead, the knights sent a knight and a young citizen to
   make one more attempt to find the mysterious dwelling. For many weeks
   they roamed about the Oberland, but could find no trace of the mountain
   home. They could not have known that some, at least, of the inhabitants
   of Lucerne (if that were indeed the neighbouring town) were acquainted
   with the spot.

   Seven years later, in the summer of 1389, it was rumoured at Strasburg
   that the Prior of Engelberg, John von Bolsenheim, was "well acquainted
   with the five friends of God, that he often visited them, and read mass
   in their church."

   Nicholas von Laufen was now despatched on this third expedition, to
   Engelberg, but found that the Prior knew nothing about them. He
   promised, however, to make every research, and should he discover their
   dwelling he would send word immediately to the Green Meadow. But no
   message from him was ever sent. In 1390 Henry von Wolfach, the knight
   commander of the House of the Green Meadow, set out himself to another
   part of the Oberland. But his journey, like the former ones, was
   fruitless. The five friends were heard of no more. But they were
   remembered by the knights, as Nicholas had been remembered by Tauler,
   with the greatest reverence and gratitude.

   In Rulman Merswin's room was found a sealed chest, containing his own
   writings, copies in his own hand of writings which professed to be
   those of his friend from the Oberland, and one paper which appeared to
   be an original, of the same secret friend. These papers were all placed
   amongst the archives of the House of the Green Meadow, under the charge
   of Nicholas von Laufen. How he copied and embellished them has been
   previously related.

   We must bear in mind that the name of "the Friend of God" was unknown
   to the knights, and therefore they may never have been aware of the
   glorious end which fulfilled to Nicholas the promise of the sweet still
   voice, "When thy soul shall pass from the earthly house, it shall be to
   dwell with Me, where the martyrs have gone before."

   Towards the end of the century, a heretic, called Nicholas of Basle,
   was seized with two friends, at Vienna, and delivered up to the
   Inquisition. The two friends were called James and John. (James appears
   to have been the former lawyer, John, no doubt, was the Jew.)

   Nicholas, now an old man of nearly ninety years, was required to
   renounce his friends, and declare them heretics. But he said he would
   only be separated from them by death, and that such a separation would
   only be for a moment, for that they should thenceforth be for ever with
   the Lord.

   The three "Friends of God" were then sentenced to be burnt alive, on
   the ground of their being Beghards and heretics.

   "There lived," says the chronicler, "a short time ago, a man named
   Nicholas, a simple layman. This person went about first as a Beghard in
   the district of the Rhine near Basle, and lower down, and was strongly
   suspected by many of those who persecuted heretics, of being one of the
   heretics afore-mentioned. For he was very subtle, and knew how to
   conceal errors under language the most specious. For this reason he had
   already escaped the hands of the inquisitors, and that for a long
   while. In consequence he brought together a certain number of
   disciples, so as to form a sect around him. For he was by profession
   and manner of life, one of the damnable Beghards, and had many visions
   and revelations, after the aforesaid damnable manner, the which visions
   he believed to be infallible. He boldly affirmed that he knew Christ to
   be really in him, and himself in Christ, and said other things also,
   all of which he publicly confessed on being examined after his capture
   at Vienna, in the diocese of Passau. But when he chose rather to be
   burnt than to dismiss at the command of the Church, two men named James
   and John, who were suspected of heresy and admitted themselves to be
   his particular disciples, and when, moreover, he was found to have
   erred in many respects from the true faith, and to be incapable of
   persuasion, he was justly given over to the secular authority, and
   reduced to ashes." Thus did the three friends bear their last witness
   for the Saviour they loved. And again did Nicholas hear the beloved
   Voice, "the gladdest and the sweetest that ears have ever heard," and
   again did there shine around him "the fair, and blessed light, the
   light that is love;" and into that light and glory he entered, to go
   out no more for ever.

   One more gleam of light is thrown upon the teaching of Nicholas by the
   sentence passed against a "Friend of God," Martin of Mayence, who was
   burnt at Cologne, July 19, 1393. Martin was chiefly accused of having
   submitted himself wholly in all things to Nicholas of Basle. In
   consequence he had not observed the stated days and hours of prayer and
   worship commanded by the Church. He had regarded himself as freed from
   obedience to the Church, overlooking the distinction between priests
   and laymen, regarding all Christians as priests. He had maintained that
   outward works had no merit before God. He had preached that the Lord
   Jesus suffered more in bearing the judgment of God, than in enduring
   the pain of the cross. He had regarded the Lord's Prayer as a form not
   be repeated. He had spoken of some "heretics," who had been recently
   burnt at Heidelberg, as "Friends of God."

   And far and wide, from north to south, from east, to west, arose,
   during the years that followed, the flames that were kindled to rid the
   world of the Waldenses and the "Friends of God." "With systematic and
   relentless energy," writes one of the latest German historians, "did
   the detectives of heretical crimes devote themselves in the fourteenth
   century to the task of persecution, directed against the Waldensian
   heretics.

   "And speedily from Lombardy to the Baltic, from the Raab to the Rhine,
   the burning piles flared aloft," and told the tale how widespread was
   the testimony of the hated and despised "Brethren."

   In the year 1395, the inquisitor, Peter Pilichdorf, declared with
   triumphant scorn that he had at last mastered the heretics! But Jerome
   of Prague, and John Huss, and John Wyclif were the answer to his boast
   -- and a hundred years after the scornful words had passed his lips,
   the boy was sent to school at Magdeburg, who was to learn later on "in
   the school of which the Holy Ghost is the schoolmaster," and to call
   all Europe to listen to the same truths which the Lord had taught to
   John Tauler and to Nicholas of Basle.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XLVII

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS OF 1352

   YET it was not that the Friends of God were reformers in the same sense
   as those who followed them two hundred years later.

   It was not the error and ignorance of the professing Church which lay
   heavily upon their hearts, for they themselves were ignorant as yet,
   but it was that their Lord was loved so little, and that so few were
   found who dwelt in His secret place, and learnt the lesson, as the
   Master had said, "of the Father's heart."

   And as the first fall of the Church began with those who had left their
   first love, so did the times of refreshing follow the return rather to
   love than to light. For that to which the "Friends of God" pressed
   forward, was not so much clearer truth, but nearer fellowship with God.

   And we may also say they did not so much look forward to heaven
   hereafter, as to an ever-deepening knowledge of the love which to them
   was heaven.

   We all know well, for who does not? the Pilgrim's Progress, which tells
   of the journey from the City of Destruction, to the Celestial City
   beyond the river of death. But the Pilgrim's Progress of the Friends of
   God was a journey not so much from condemnation to safety, and to
   heaven, as a journey from the city of alienation from God, to the
   blessed love of the Father's House, where the welcome and the kiss are
   followed by the music and the feast.

   A journey from the icy regions of profession -- it may be orthodox
   profession -- to the sweetness and the glory of the hidden sanctuary,
   where the Face of God is seen.

   The "book of the nine rocks," written by Rulman Merswin, dark,
   superstitious, and ignorant, as in many respects he was, may well be
   called the Pilgrim's Progress of the fourteenth century, and of the two
   centuries that followed.

   Without describing this book in detail, it may be said to be the
   process of the soul from the dead form of Christianity, to the
   communion of the heart with God.

   To a man of God was shown the great wide world, covered everywhere with
   an outspread net. And nine rocks were there, rising one above another,
   out of the great net, and men were seen who climbed upon the rocks, and
   were many in number on the lowest rock, and less in number upon each
   rock that rose higher.

   But down below, beneath the net, were Christian men of every name and
   order. Christians -- for they professed the faith of Christ, but dead,
   lost souls who knew Him not, and who had clean forgotten Him.

   There, under the net, were popes and cardinals, bishops and abbots,
   priests and monks, emperors and kings and nobles. There were knights
   and citizens, and artisans and peasants, and many a worldly woman, nuns
   and queens, and nursing sisters -- all alike in the snare of Satan, and
   most of them content to be there.

   And when the man saw these things, he fell down before the Lord, and
   prayed that if it were His will, he might give his heart, and soul, and
   body, for the dead and fallen Church, if so they might be brought to
   remember Him who had given Himself for them, "who had shed His precious
   Blood, and suffered a death of shame, and yet was remembered no more,"
   by those who were called by His Name.

   And the Lord showed him how some of these people had found their way
   out of the net, and had climbed upon the rocks, and He told him that
   those on the lowest rock were those who desired to serve two masters,
   and were neither hot nor cold.

   And the man perceived that on this rock was a young damsel, of fourteen
   years old, who was leading downwards by a cord, a train of older
   people. First a clergyman, and next a respectable and honourable man
   and woman, and lastly two other women. And they were going down, nearer
   and nearer at each step, to the net below.

   And when the man asked who they were, the Lord told him that the
   respectable man and woman were a worthy couple who had long lived a
   God-fearing life. And the damsel was their eldest child, who had found
   opportunities of watching the pleasures and enjoyments of the people
   who lived under the net, and therefore had set her heart upon going
   amongst them. And she told her father and mother that she wished to do
   like other damsels of her own age, and enjoy this world as they did.

   Now the father and mother had brought her up from her childhood in the
   fear of God, and therefore they had kept her apart from this evil
   world; and now they knew not what to do, so they went to their
   confessor, and told him what their daughter desired, and asked his
   counsel.

   And he was a man who was anxious not to lose the friendship of wealthy
   people, and he said, "Such things are now quite the custom, and many
   Christian people allow such and such things." And he gave them to
   understand that the pride of life was a harmless thing, not considering
   that on account of pride, the devil had fallen into the condemnation of
   God.

   "And this," it was said to the man, "is the reason that you see the
   young damsel leading the confessor first, and then father and mother,
   and then two friends who take pattern by her example, all down the path
   that leads beneath the net." And beneath the net they went, and the man
   saw them no more.

   And the man saw that the enemy had great power over the people who
   dwelt upon the lowest rock, for they were foolish, and thought they
   could at the same time please God, and their own fallen nature.

   "They are honourable and respectable people," it was said to the man;
   "they have no desire to commit great sins, and they wish to escape
   hell. And they think God is well-pleased with them, and they are well
   pleased with themselves. Therefore they have no desire to live nearer
   to God, and they are not afraid to die, because they keep themselves
   from deadly sins. And they do not like people who tell them that their
   life is a very miserable one, for they are quite satisfied that they
   are good people, and safe, though they are living close to the edge of
   the great net. And the enemy has a great hook with which he catches
   these people very easily. The hook is called Nature." It is to be
   remarked that in this, and in the passages that follow, the hook is to
   be regarded as the means by which Satan draws back souls into this
   present evil world, "the world beneath the net." It does not therefore
   touch the question of saved souls being finally lost. It is rather the
   fall of the soul from communion with God, brought about by various
   means, and in the case of the lower rocks, the fall from mere
   profession into open ungodliness. This is in keeping with all the
   teaching of the Friends of God, to whom present intercourse with God
   was heaven; and a thought more constantly present to their minds, than
   the thought which in our times is the prevailing one amongst professing
   Christians, that of "going to Heaven when we die." To the Friends of
   God, Heaven was Himself, whilst to the ordinary Christian now, it is a
   place, where he will meet departed friends, and have no more troubles.
   Let us now return to our story.

   And the man saw that some of these people climbed to the second rock.
   And these were religious people who gave up some of the things of the
   world, but thought it not wise or prudent to give up more. And because
   they were so wise and discriminating they were easily caught by the
   hook which the enemy had prepared for them, which was called Spiritual
   Pride.

   And on the third rock were some who had climbed up from the second. And
   these were earnest people, who desired fervently to go to heaven, and
   to escape hell. And therefore they did many penances, and kept apart
   from the world, and denied themselves in many things. But the enemy had
   a hook whereby he caught many of them. And this hook was called
   Will-worship.

   And the man saw that some of the people from the third rock climbed
   upon the fourth rock, but most of them fell back quickly, and
   disappeared under the net. And he saw a man also, down below, who came
   running up to the mountain, and with one leap he cleared the three
   first rocks, and alighted on the fourth. And it was told him that this
   man was suddenly convinced of sin, whilst he was under the net, and his
   repentance and remorse were so great, he would willingly have given his
   heart's blood to be freed from his sins, and he did great penances till
   he had well-nigh killed himself, and instead of stopping short when he
   had done so, pressed forward and was found amongst the people on the
   fourth rock. Now these people were they who had taken the flesh in
   hand, and who kept down their evil nature with strength and resolution.
   But the enemy had a hook which he cast at them, and a very great hook
   it was. It was called Self-sufficiency, for these people are determined
   to take their own course, and to listen to none who would teach them a
   better way than theirs. God sends many messages to these people, to see
   if they will give up their own will, but to these messages they turn a
   deaf ear, for they think they know better than all others how to order
   their course. And in spite of their resolution and their self-control,
   they are speedily overtaken with anger and evil tempers, for they have
   not yielded themselves up to God, but are doing the best they can for
   themselves.

   And on the fifth rock were there people who were far more pleasant to
   behold, for they were kind and loving, and they desired not to follow
   their own will, but the will of God. But the enemy had a great hook
   whereby he dragged down many from amongst them. And this hook was
   called Instability.

   And up above, on the sixth rock, there were people beautiful and
   lovely. And they had given up their wills to God, and they were true
   and steadfast, and desired to be faithful unto death to Him whom they
   loved. But the enemy had a hook also prepared for them. It was the
   desire to be a select few, in special communion with God.

   And on the seventh rock were people far more beautiful to see than any
   below them. And they were shining people, for the grace of God was in
   their hearts, and the light of His grace shone forth from each one of
   them. And they walked with Him, and His will was their delight, whether
   sweet or bitter, whether He sent them forth upon labours of love, or
   whether He called them apart for intercourse with Him.

   But the enemy had a great hook, whereby he caught many of them, and
   dragged them downwards. And this hook was a joy and delight of the
   natural heart in the comfort and the sweetness of the Lord.

   And when the man had gone up to the eighth rock, he was filled with joy
   and wonder, for the people were yet more beautiful and glad and
   radiant, for they thought not of their own enjoyment, but sought only
   the honour of the Lord, and they scarcely knew whether they had, or had
   not, the things of time, for they wept as though they wept not, and
   rejoiced as though they rejoiced not. And the man was glad, and thought
   that none could have greater blessedness than these shining and joyful
   people.

   But it was told him that for these blessed people the enemy had in
   readiness two great hooks, which he cast into them in evil moments. For
   as they had, as those below had not, the gladness of some wondrous
   moments when they saw the Face of God, they were thereby in danger of
   being exalted above measure, so that even the highest things could thus
   put self upon a high place in their hearts. And therefore the first
   hook was called Self. And the second hook was a delight which was a
   natural delight, in the wonder and the mystery of the ways of God. For
   God had shown them great and marvellous things, and they were apt,
   without knowing it, to be led away by the wonder, and to have
   imaginations that were not of God. And this second hook was therefore
   the delight of nature in great and marvellous things.

   And at last the man was led up to the ninth rock, which reached into
   the heart of heaven. For this rock was of a great and terrible height,
   and it seemed to the man that all the other rocks piled one upon
   another would not be as high as this one rock alone.

   And the people on this rock were few -- and they looked like people
   whose natural life was gone, and they had another life that made them
   more beautiful and more shining than all below. For God had shed abroad
   such fulness of love in their hearts, that it could not but shine forth
   from them, though they knew it not, and never desired to know. "And
   though these men are few," it was told the man, "it is because of them
   that Christendom remains. For if they were not there, the judgment of
   God must come upon that which is called by His name, and Satan would
   reign and rule, and spread his net over all the earth."

   "And these blessed people," it was said to him, "have given themselves
   up to God by faith, desiring only to walk in faith in the steps of
   Christ. They seek not comfort, and they have become fools for Christ's
   sake, and they deem themselves unworthy of the great gifts which God
   bestows.

   "Yet they fear neither hell, nor purgatory, nor the enemy, nor death,
   nor life. For all fear is taken away from them, save only the fear lest
   they should not follow closely in the footsteps of the Lord. They do
   not seek themselves, for they have lost themselves, and lost all
   things, save only God. For the world is crucified to them, and they
   also to the world, and they have taken up the cross to follow Him who
   bore the cross before. To the world they are unknown, but the world is
   well known to them. They are the true worshippers, who worship the
   Father in spirit and in truth."

   Then said the man, "I fear to write of these people, for those who read
   of them would be offended. And we may not cast pearls before the swine,
   that would trample on them."

   But it was answered to the man, "I know that what thou shalt write
   about the ninth rock shall be more profitable to Christendom than all
   that shall be written in the book besides. And know that one of these
   men is more dear to God, and of more service to Christendom, than a
   thousand men who are serving Him out of their own hearts."

   And the man saw that these people were shining with a wondrous joy and
   gladness, and it was said to him that it was no marvel, for that could
   a man have all the understanding of men and angels, he could never
   comprehend the smallest joy that God gives eternally to His beloved
   friends.

   And the man was grieved that there were so few of these blessed people,
   for he desired that there might be many to pray for the fallen Church.

   And it was said to him, "It will be known some day how few there are.
   For the judgments of God must come at last, as once they came before,
   when eight people only were spared to be the fresh beginning of another
   world."

   And then was it granted to the man that he should see that which these
   joyful people had seen -- and a door was as it were opened before him,
   and he was so filled with light and gladness, that he was as it were
   taken out of himself, and how long it was that he was thus lost in joy,
   he knew not.

   And when he came to himself his gladness was so immeasurable, and
   unspeakable, and overwhelming, that it was as an exceeding weight upon
   him, and he spake to himself and said, "Where hast thou been? and what
   great wonder and glory is it that thou hast seen?" And he sat a long
   while and thought of it. And the more he thought, the less did he know
   what it was.

   He thought he would write about it, as he was commanded to do, but he
   could not speak or write the smallest word.

   Then he bethought him of forms or pictures whereby he might retain the
   image of it. But he could find none, for it was far beyond all pictures
   that the mind could imagine.

   Then he bethought him that he would meditate upon it, till by reason
   and understanding he might comprehend it. But it passed all
   understanding.

   Then he would fain have shaped it into thoughts, but the more he
   thought, the less he could conceive it, because it was beyond all
   thought, and all that ever had entered his heart before.

   And he could only turn himself to the Lord, and ask that he might be
   able to contain this unspeakable joy, so that he might not break forth
   in unseemly delight.

   And it was said to him, "Know, that the very smallest joy that is in
   God, is far beyond all the joys of all the world, could they all be
   gathered into one moment of gladness. Therefore marvel not that thou
   canst neither speak of it, nor understand it, nor grasp it, for had a
   man all the understanding of all men who have ever walked upon the
   earth, he could not lay hold with his mind upon the least of that which
   God has showed thee. For He has shown thee Himself as the Bridegroom of
   thy soul, and thou hast been brought into the high school where the
   schoolmaster is the Holy Ghost."

   And the man answered and said, "O my Beloved, so unspeakable and so
   marvellous is the love wherewith Thou hast loved me, that I would
   gladly suffer all things for Thy sake and my soul thirsts for any pain
   or sorrow, for the most shameful death that could befall me, if it
   might be for Thine honour. For now do I feel in my heart how Thou hast
   suffered for me, and so precious to me is Thy death, that I could wish
   to suffer even hell itself, if so be that other men might know that
   which Thou hast made known to me."

   Then did the Lord tell the man to look down from the high peak, to the
   world that lay far below, and he saw a man who was walking to and fro
   beneath the net, but who was shining as an angel. And there was also a
   man who was dark and black like the enemy, who walked to and fro
   beneath the net.

   And it was told the man that the dark one who was walking there, was
   one who had once had companionship with the shining people upon the
   ninth rock, and had been pleased with their discourse, and had found
   delight in hearing of these great and wondrous things, for he desired
   to be somewhat, and to shine with a light of his own.

   And this man was more hurtful than any other who walked upon the earth,
   and was more to be dreaded than an evil fiend. And it was grievous to
   the man who heard these things, for when he looked down he saw that
   there were many such beneath the net, and it was told him that they
   were those who taught a way that seemed to be a glad and pleasant way,
   but it was the way of death, for it was made to please the nature of
   fallen men.

   And the man asked, who then was the shining one who walked beneath the
   net and shed a light around?

   And it was told him, "This man is one who has looked upon the Face of
   God, and has companied with these blessed people. And because of the
   love and pity that the Lord has shed abroad in his heart, has he gone
   down swiftly beneath the net, that by the help of God he may seek poor
   sinners, so that they may be converted and saved.

   "For this man can see the wide far country of Christendom, lying
   beneath the net in sin and misery, and he knows the great judgments of
   God that must close up these evil days, and he would gladly lay down
   his life, if so be that any should be turned from their sins to God."

   And the man asked if there were many of these shining ones in
   Christendom, and if they were afraid when they went down beneath the
   net.

   And it was told him that it were not well that he should know how few
   there were. And that as to fear, the shining ones were oftentimes
   afraid, but only of one thing, namely, that they should do too little
   for their Lord and God, and follow Him less nearly than their hearts
   desired.

   "As to the rest," it was said to him, "they fear neither purgatory, nor
   hell, nor devils, nor men, nor death, nor life, for all fear has passed
   away from such as they, save the childlike fear which is a sweet fear,
   and which they will carry with them till they go home to God." And the
   man asked if they had any sorrow. And it was told him, "Yea, they have
   to suffer, and they do not desire it to be otherwise, for they are
   walking in the steps of Christ. And they sorrow greatly for the Church
   that is fallen, and have a love and pity deep and strong.

   "And it grieves them to the heart when they see the men who are led
   captive by the enemy, and are cleaving to themselves, and to the world;
   and this cross they bear, as Christ their Head has borne it, so long as
   they are here below."

   And the man said, "O my Beloved, are these men sure that they have
   eternal life?"

   And it was answered him, "They are no more in themselves, but have
   passed out of themselves, and are in God. And what thinkest thou that
   God will do with His friends? Should He give them over to the enemy?
   Far be it from Him. When these men die, behold, they take but one step
   from earth to heaven."

   And after these things the man bethought himself, and he said: "O my
   Beloved, what is the reason that all order is lost in holy
   Christendom?"

   And it was told him that it was because men had turned away from God,
   and from the friends of God. And that when a man had come speaking that
   which the Holy Ghost had taught him, he was mocked and despised, and
   men considered him a fool.

   Then the man prayed earnestly and said: "O my Lord, my One Beloved, the
   altogether lovely One, have mercy upon the Church that has fallen from
   Thee. Oh that I might give my heart to be broken into a thousand
   pieces, if that might be for good to Christendom!"

   But the Lord said that it had always been, and yet must be, that He had
   those who dwelt in His hidden place, and were the friends to whom He
   told His secret things, but that most men would believe neither His
   word nor His friends. For men loved rather to hear flattering words,
   than the truth of the Holy Scriptures. And therefore there was nothing
   to which any man could turn in these evil days, but simply to the cross
   of Christ, to Jesus only. For God is ready to give, wherever He finds a
   heart that is ready to receive.

   Then did the man beseech the Lord again, and yet again, that He would
   have mercy on the Church, and raise it up from the dust, and restore it
   as of old. But the Lord said, that the day must come at last when His
   friends should have prayed their last prayer for fallen Christendom,
   and that when that day came, the Son of God must avenge the dishonour
   done to His Father, and to His holy name, by that which had been called
   the Church.

   And the man was silent. But after a while he asked yet one question
   more, and said, "O my heart's Beloved, tell me if these men who have
   dwelt upon this rock, and have looked upon Thy Face, have here in this
   life below a perfect joy?"

   And it was answered him, "I tell thee that their joy is so great, no
   speech can declare it. Yet is this joy to the joy that they will have
   in the eternal Home, as time is to eternity."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XLVIII

MORE LIGHT AND LESS LOVE

   SUCH was the Pilgrim's Progress of the "Friends of God" -- a book which
   seems to have been written and re-written in yet earlier days than
   those of Rulman Merswin, but sent forth afresh by him, with additions
   and alterations of his own, under the direction of Nicholas of Basle.

   To us it comes with an awakening voice, as well as with a call for
   thankfulness, that in our times the way of God has been made known more
   perfectly. For it is as though Rulman and the other Friends of God
   beheld the glorious tree of the Lord's planting, with its blossoms, and
   its fruit, and its fragrance, but did not see, as we have seen, how
   deep were its roots in the grace of the Lord, and that it is in Him,
   not in ourselves, that we have the joy and gladness, and the place of
   the Beloved, in the heart of the Father.

   Yet they knew and owned that through His death alone this blessing came
   to them. And they saw also that it was by grace only that a man could
   be on the rock where the Face of God was seen. What was it that was
   wanting in their faith and knowledge?

   May we not say as before, that in the first place, they allowed one
   great truth to take the place of another, which therefore they
   overlooked and lost? They knew and believed that the joy and
   blessedness of conscious communion with God, is dependent on the
   practical abiding in Christ, keeping His commandments, and reckoning
   self as dead. But they did not appear to be aware that this abiding in
   Him, this obedience, and this power of walking as those who are alive
   from the dead, are dependent upon the faith which looks continually at
   Him, and Him only.

   Therefore they were constantly hindering themselves, by the very
   earnestness of their desire to conform themselves to the image of
   Christ, for they looked at themselves, to see if they were like Him,
   rather than at Him; whereas it is by beholding Him we are changed into
   His image. They were like any amongst the Israelites who pressed
   forward, filled with faith in God's promises, to take possession of the
   goodly land, but who had not seen, as Joshua had seen, the captain of
   the Lord's Host going before them to victory.

   And secondly, we can remark in looking back to their anxiety, beautiful
   and touching as it was, to do the will of God rather than their own,
   that the continual and watchful care with which they tried their ways,
   left their hearts less free to delight in Christ Himself, and to behold
   His glory apart from His relation to themselves.

   Therefore we find that the delight of God in His Son, that fellowship
   with the Father, which it is given to us to enjoy, was but little known
   to them. A "Friend of God" could say with deepest love and adoration,
   "He loved me, and gave Himself for me;" but the delight in Him as He is
   in Himself, seems seldom to have been theirs.

   And the love wherewith the Father loves Him, which is through grace
   shed abroad in our hearts, was to them more or less lost sight of,
   because the love wherewith the saved soul loves Him was to them more
   real, because it was more a matter of experience. And experience, with
   them, was the measure of blessing.

   To us it is shown that the measure must not be looked for in ourselves
   at all, but in the delight of God in His beloved Son. And that we are
   but called upon to believe, and realise, the great gift of the
   unsearchable riches which we possess in Christ -- His life ours, His
   glory ours, the love wherewith the Father loves Him, ours also.

   The "Friends of God" desired to attain to the state of being dead to
   sin and alive to God, and they did not know that being dead already,
   and alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord, they were freed from
   sin, and already brought, except as regards the mortal body, into the
   liberty of the glory of the children of God.

   They did not know that these things are facts revealed to us, not
   attainments to be reached by our prayers and efforts.

   But on the other hand, is there not still a message for us, in the
   midst of our light and knowledge, in the words of these beloved saints,
   who were groping with so marvellous an earnestness after that which we
   know that we possess, and which we, alas, so lightly esteem?

   We are told much and often, of all the spiritual blessings in heavenly
   places laid up for us in Christ. But do we very commonly enjoy them as
   truly as did the "Friends of God," who felt and experienced in their
   inmost hearts, that which we know as truths, and perhaps feel the less,
   because it is as truths that we have learnt these things, and not as
   the blessed answer of the heart of God to the longing desire of His
   ignorant children? The Lord Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day,
   and for ever, had no other blessedness to give to His saints in the old
   times, than that which He gives to us -- for the blessedness is
   Himself. And if we know better than they did, how such blessedness can
   be ours, let us own in abasement before Him that the joy and gladness,
   the devotedness and the love, should be all the deeper in these our
   days. And let us ask ourselves if it is so, and if the sight of the
   fallen Church so grieves and humbles us, as it grieved and humbled
   Rulman Merswin.

   For ten who know how to point out the faults in this or that section of
   the great professing Church, is there one who humbles himself before
   God on account of it, or who mourns over it with the sorrow which
   belongs to love?

   And if our eyes have been opened to see that the true and living Church
   consists not of this denomination or that, but of all everywhere who
   have a living faith in the Blood of Christ, do we in consequence own
   all such as His, and sorrow deeply to see the people of the Lord
   scattered on the mountains, and lost in miry sloughs, led astray by
   evil teaching, and beclouded by the darkness of centuries of ignorance
   and unbelief?

   And do we mourn deeply and truly over our own share in the fall and
   ruin of the professing Church of God, over our lukewarmness, our
   prayerlessness, our ignorance, our self-indulgence, our weak faith, and
   love that has waxed cold?

   Or do we, on the other hand, either spurn and despise the erring and
   the ignorant, or regard as of small importance errors in belief, and
   carelessness in practice, for the sake of being on good and easy terms
   with all alike?

   Rather let us grieve with Rulman Merswin to see so few upon the rock
   that rises into the height of heaven, and desire for ourselves, and for
   all the people of God, the constant sense of that Presence wherein is
   the fulness of joy, the place of honour at His right hand where are
   pleasures for evermore.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XLIX

ANOTHER FRIEND OF GOD


   "O Lord, the most Fair, the most tender,

   My heart is adrift and alone;

   My heart is weary and thirsty,

   Athirst for a joy unknown.

   From a child I followed it, chased it,

   By wilderness, wold, and hill;

   I never have reached it or seen it,

   Yet must I follow it still.


   In those olden years did I seek it,

   In the sweet, fair things around;

   But the more I sought and I thirsted,

   The less, O my Lord, I found.

   When nearest it seemed to my grasping

   It fled like a wandering thought;

   I never have known what it is, Lord,

   Too well know I what it is not.


   It is I, it is I, the Eternal,

   Who chose thee Mine own to be --

   Who chose thee before the ages,

   Who chose thee eternally.

   I stood in the way before thee,

   In the ways thou wouldest have gone;

   For this is the mark of My chosen,

   That they shall be Mine alone.'" -- Henry Suso

   AMONGST the "Friends of God" known to Dr. Tauler, was one who wrote a
   book, called "The Book of Eternal Wisdom," which the Master read and
   valued, and which has come down to our times.

   The writer of this book was Henry Suso, whose real name was De Berg.
   His father was a man of an old and wealthy family, near the town of
   Constance. His mother was a pious woman, who lived in dread of her
   husband, for he cared only for the things of the world, and treated her
   with harshness and severity. She was a devout Catholic, but appears to
   have been amongst those who had learnt to know the Lord, and to Him had
   she given her heart truly and simply, though in much ignorance and
   darkness. She went to mass, but her heart was with the Lord Himself,
   and she remembered His death each time with loving tears, little
   understanding how contrary to His Word was the service in which she
   took part. Her son Henry was a boy of a loving and a tender heart, and
   by nature a minstrel and a poet. He has been called the "Minnesinger of
   the Friends of God" -- a minnesinger being the German name which
   answered to the troubadours of Provence, or the bards of Wales. He had
   a tender sympathy, we are told, "not with men alone, but with every
   little beast and bird, and all the small creatures God had made," and
   it grieved him if ever he saw any that suffered or were in need. And on
   the other hand he had a rare and rapturous delight in the sights and
   sounds of the beautiful earth around him; in fountains and in flowers,
   and in the gladness of spring time, and in the crimson morning light
   upon the great range of the high Alps, and in the swift rushing of the
   Rhine, and the deep blue shadows on the lake of Constance near his
   father's home. And he loved the stars of heaven, and the song of birds.
   And he had a love of knightly deeds, and of all that was great and
   noble. And most of all he loved his mother, and liked to be called by
   the name of her family, Suso, rather than by that of his father.

   From his mother he learnt to love the services and the music of the
   Church. And when he was still a child, he devoted himself to the "Queen
   of Heaven," the Virgin Mary, and in the month of May, which was the
   month of Mary, "he had a custom, when the fair summer came, and the
   flowers appeared on the earth, to keep himself from plucking them or
   touching them, till the day came that was the feast of Mary, and he
   then would make a wreath with many a loving thought, and carry it into
   the chapel of the Virgin, and put the wreath upon her image, and kneel
   down humbly before it."

   And as yet his heart, so alive to human love, and to beauty, and to the
   religion of man, was dead to God, and dark and miserable.

   For a time he was sent to a school at Cologne, and thus separated from
   the mother he loved so well. He had been there but a short time, when
   in a dream his mother appeared to him, and with great joy she spoke to
   him, and said, "My child, love God, and trust in Him wholly, He will
   never leave thee nor forsake thee. See, I have departed from this
   world, and I am not dead, I shall live eternally with the eternal God."
   Then did she kiss him on his mouth with a motherly kiss, and blessed
   him heartily, and passed away out of his sight. He began to weep, and
   he called after her and said, "Oh my faithful holy mother, remember me
   when thou art with God!" And thus he awoke weeping bitterly, and it was
   told him soon after that his mother was dead.

   His home was now no longer a home to him, for his father cared only for
   war and chivalry, and therefore at the age of thirteen, he was taken
   into the Dominican convent at Constance, and was educated in order to
   be a monk.

   For five years he "wore a semblance of holiness, yet was his mind but
   ill at ease. And it seemed to him that if only God would keep him from
   great sins that might bring him into ill repute, it mattered not how
   many little sins he allowed in himself. But God preserved him from
   finding anything to satisfy him in the pleasures that he sought, for as
   soon as he had found that which he desired, it ceased to please him,
   and he believed that if he had some other thing, his restless heart
   would be at peace, but the rest came not.

   "And at times he bethought him that he would fight against all
   temptations, and give his heart to God. But the evil one spoke to his
   heart and said, Count the cost; it is easy to begin, but it is hard to
   hold on.' And a friend who was but a spokesman of the enemy said to
   him, It is quite right you should amend your ways, but not in such
   desperate fashion; be moderate in all things, and eat and drink and
   live like other men, only keep from sin. Be as good as you like in your
   own heart, but keep to the middle course in your conduct, so that no
   one may be offended. If the heart is good, all is good, and you may
   lead a merry life with others, and be a good man all the time. Other
   people mean to go to heaven as well as you, but they see no need of
   being so strict.' But it seemed to him as though his friend were like
   one who counselled him to catch an eel by taking hold of its tail, and
   he said in his heart, He who desires to have God, and the world also,
   desires an impossible thing.' And therefore he determined within
   himself that he would set himself earnestly to the task of denying
   himself, and breaking off all worldly ways, and forbidding himself all
   worldly company.

   "But now and then, when he felt sad and wearied, his nature was too
   strong for him, and he went back to his old companions to have a
   cheerful time. But it always came to pass that he went home more sad
   and wearied than before, for their talk was wearisome to him, and his
   ways were intolerable to them. And at times they would say to him, What
   in the world has come to you?' or, Why do you not do as other people?'
   And a third would say, All the people who want to be so good, are sure
   to come to a bad end at last.' And then he felt dumb and said to
   himself, There is no way out of it but flight. If I had not heard all
   this evil talk, it would have done me no harm.' And the worst was, he
   had none to whom he could tell his grief, for none understood the
   desire of his heart, and he was all alone."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER L

"THE GLORY OF THAT LIGHT"


   "Now have I seen Thee and found Thee,

   For Thou hast found Thy sheep;

   I fled, but Thy love would follow --

   I strayed, but Thy grace would keep.

   Thou best granted my heart's desire --

   Most blest of the blessed is he

   Who findeth no rest and no sweetness,

   Till he rests, O Lord, in Thee.


   O Lord, Thou seest, Thou knowest,

   That to none my heart can tell

   The joy, and the love, and the sorrow,

   That my own heart knows so well.

   But to Thee, O my God, I can tell it --

   To Thee, and to Thee, Lord, alone;

   For Thy heart my heart hath a language,

   For other hearts it hath none.


   In the wide world, speechless and lonely,

   For me is no heart but Thine;

   Lord, since I must love Thee only,

   Oh reveal Thy heart to mine.

   Wouldst thou know My glory, beloved?

   Know Me, the great I AM?

   First must thine eyes behold Me,

   The slain and the stricken Lamb.


   My visage so marred more than any,

   My form than the sons of men;

   Yet to the heart I have won Me,

   I am the fairest then.

   Thou knowest the sun by his glory --

   Thou knowest the rose by her breath --

   Thou knowest the fire by its glowing --

   Thou knowest My love by death.


   Wouldst thou know in My great creation

   Where the rays of My glory meet?

   Where to My awful righteousness

   The kiss of My peace is sweet?

   Where shine forth the wisdom and wonder

   Of God's everlasting plan?

   Behold on the cross of dishonour

   A cursed and a dying man.'" -- Henry Suso

   "AND it came to pass that one day when he was eighteen years old, he
   went alone into the chapel, when all the monks were at dinner in the
   refectory. And he stood there utterly dark and miserable, for he was
   weary of all things, and he knew not where to go for help or comfort.

   "And it was to him at that moment, as though a Presence were with him,
   and a sudden light and glory filled his soul, and he saw and heard in
   his innermost heart that which no tongue can tell, and no heart of man
   can conceive. And his soul was filled with longing, and yet was
   satisfied, and thirsted no more, and all the things that he had desired
   were now as nothing to him, and all his desire for them had passed
   away. Whether it were day or night he knew not, for he had tasted of
   the sweetness of the eternal life, and he knew that He who was present
   with him, was the Lord.

   "And thus he remained lost in joy and rest, and he said to himself, If
   this is not heaven, I know not what heaven can be, for all that could
   be suffered here below were small and even as nothing, to him to whom
   eternal gladness such as this is, shall be given.'

   "And when he came to himself, he seemed to himself as a man who had
   come from another world. And he fell down, and he sighed in his heart a
   fathomless sigh, and he said, O my God, where have I been? where am I
   now? O Thou blessed of my heart, this hour shall never pass away from
   me for ever and for ever.' And he went on his way, and no man saw or
   knew that he was another man. But his heart and soul were filled with
   the heavenly wonder, and with the glory that he had seen, and he was as
   a box which has been filled with a sweet perfume, and the odour is left
   behind, when the perfume is poured out. And from that moment of heaven,
   his heart henceforward longed with a deep desire after God."

   It was the custom in the convent, that during meals one of the monks
   read aloud, sometimes portions of the Bible, sometimes other books. But
   shortly after the day of which Henry Suso has told us, it came to pass
   that when the monk stood up to read, these were the words which he
   read, and to Henry Suso they were new and marvellous.

   "Hear ye, children, the instruction of a father, and attend to know
   understanding. Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that
   getteth understanding. She is more precious than rubies, and all the
   things that thou canst desire, are not to be compared unto her. Length
   of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and honour.
   Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. She is
   a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her, and happy is every one
   that retaineth her. The Lord by wisdom hath founded the earth, by
   understanding hath He established the heavens. My son, let them not
   depart from thine eyes, keep sound wisdom and discretion. So shall they
   be life to thy soul, and grace to thy neck. Then shalt thou walk in the
   way safely, and thy foot shall not stumble. When thou liest down thou
   shalt not be afraid: yea, thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be
   sweet."

   "And," says the story, "when he heard these beautiful sayings read
   aloud in his ears, at once he thought in the longing of his heart, Oh
   what a love is that! Might I but have such an one to be mine, oh well
   it were with me.' But as yet he knew not who and what was it, of whom
   the words were written. And he thought, Can I love that which I do not
   know, and which I have never seen? But gladly would I have such an one
   to be my beloved, and I would be her servant.' And he prayed saying, O
   God, might I but see the One I desire, and might I hear her voice if
   only once, and hear her speak to me! O Lord, who is the beloved one of
   whom Thou hast spoken such glorious things? Is it God, or is it man or
   woman? or is it a knowledge, or a cunning art? Lord, tell me what it
   is.'

   "And as he strove to see in his mind that which should answer to the
   holy words of the Scripture, his eyes were opened, and he saw as it
   were One high in heaven, in the glory of the holy place, One who shone
   as the morning star, and was bright as the sun when he goeth forth in
   his might. And His crown was eternity, and His robe was salvation, and
   His speech was sweetness, and His presence was a delight, that
   satisfied all the heart. He was far and near, and exalted and abased;
   He was present and He was hidden; He called the soul to His
   companionship, yet none could comprehend Him. He reached aloft above
   the highest heaven, He humbled Himself to the depths of the fathomless
   abyss; He was on all sides, from end to end of all things, and all
   things were ordered sweetly by the skilfulness of His love.

   "And he who had given himself to a blessed Virgin, had found in her
   place a glorious Lord."

   Yes, even so, for he knew that the One whom his soul had seen was not
   Mary, but Christ.

   "And thus," he says, "did the Eternal Wisdom bend over him in tender
   love, and greeted him with a blessed welcome, and spake to him, and
   said: My son, give Me thine heart!' And he fell down before His feet,
   and humbly thanked Him from the depths of his soul. All this was given
   to him then, and there was nothing more to give."

   From this time did Henry Suso call himself by one name alone. "The
   servant of the Eternal Wisdom." "And after these things," he says, "he
   would often times speak to his heart and say, O heart of mine, whence
   come love and gladness, and tenderness and beauty, and delight and
   sweetness? Have they not flowed down to thee from the great depths of
   God alone? Awake then, awake, O heart and soul and strength, and cast
   thyself into the depths of all blessed and glorious things! For now my
   heart is free to go forth in gladness, unfettered, and to find all the
   burning thirst of love forever quenched in Thee!'

   "And it was even thus to him, that all that is good was his, given to
   him in the gift of the water of life, that flowed into his soul from
   God.

   "And thus henceforward, whensoever he heard the singing of hymns and
   psalms, or the sweet sound of harps and lutes, or when he heard men
   speaking of human love and tenderness, then swiftly did he enter into
   the secret place of his Beloved above all beloveds, where are the
   hidden springs whence all that is truly love floweth forth to men.

   "And it was to him as to a little child, whom the mother takes under
   the arms, and makes it to stand upon her knees, and the child leans
   forward with head and arms outstretched, to delight himself in the love
   of his mother, and lovely and pleasant is his gladness, which he cannot
   speak, but it moves his limbs, and is beautiful in his face.

   "And he would speak to the Lord and say, O my Lord, he who is wedded to
   a Queen thinks it a joy and honour. But I am espoused to Thee, the
   Giver of all Grace! In Thee have I riches unfathomable, in Thee have I
   power to do all things. And could all the earth be mine, what more
   could it add to that which Thou hast given to me!'"

   "And," says one who speaks of him, "his countenance became so glad, and
   his eyes so filled with God, that it was as if his heart were ever
   singing, Above all joy, beyond all beauty, is He who is the gladness
   and the fair Presence in my heart, for with Him joy ever follows me,
   and all things are mine in Him, and He is mine.'"

   And now when May came, "the month of Mary," it was no longer with him
   as in the former days. For to him the month of May was now the month
   which told him of "the fairer things of the spiritual Maytime," and not
   to Mary, but to the Eternal Wisdom, would he speak and sing, saying,
   "All hail to Thee, Thou heavenly May, Thou the Eternal Wisdom, Thou in
   whom are the blossom and the fruit of everlasting joy! O Lord, I love
   Thee for the red roses of Thy bitter suffering, I adore Thee for the
   little violets of Thy lowliness, and the lilies of Thy purity, and for
   all the flowers of many colours, and of glowing brightness, the flowers
   of the heaths and downs, of the woods and meadows, the blossoms of the
   fields and trees, which the fair May-time bringeth forth, and which
   were in days of old, and ever shall be! I kiss Thy feet, beloved Lord,
   for all things speak of Thee. And for all the gladsome songs of little
   birds, which ever have been sung upon the branches of the May, my heart
   praiseth Thee, O Lord, and for all the sweetness and the beauty of all
   the Mays of all the years, I sing to Thee, O Lord, in my heart and
   soul, and I pray Thee that Thou, the blessed May, wilt grant me to
   praise Thee in the short years of this present life, and that I may
   rejoice in the fulness of Thy joy for evermore."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LI

THE DARK SHADOW

   class="First"WE have seen one side of this marvellous picture -- the
   side upon which shone forth the grace and glory of the Lord Jesus
   Christ. We have been told in these simple words of the great treasure
   poured into the earthen vessel.

   And now we must look awhile at the other side, at the heart that loved
   so truly, but was yet so veiled by the effect of the evil teaching of
   1200 years. We must hear the story of the earthen vessel itself, in the
   years that followed.

   And it must be here remarked, that the same difficulty presents itself
   in relating this story, as in the story of Nicholas of Basle. It was
   Henry Suso himself who told the history of his life, but unhappily it
   was not he who wrote it, but a nun to whom he related it from time to
   time, his "spiritual daughter," Elizabeth Staglin. Unknown to Henry
   Suso, this nun wrote down from memory all he told her. She seems to
   have regarded everything which he said and did, at all periods of his
   life, as almost equally good and praiseworthy. She tells the tale of
   his childish devotion to the Virgin, as if that were already a sign of
   spiritual life. She writes down disconnected tales with no regard to
   chronology. She therefore relates strange acts of superstition which
   betray the darkness and ignorance of those beclouded days, jumbling
   them in hopeless confusion with acts of true faith and devotedness. She
   also delights, as did all in those days, and no doubt women more
   especially, in dreams, and visions, and marvellous tales, told her by
   other women who dreamt at times of Henry Suso, and told her also by
   himself.

   For like Rulman and Nicholas, he gained for himself, as Dr. Tauler
   said, "weak brains and disordered fancies," in the years that followed
   his blessed knowledge of the Lord and Saviour; and dreams and visions,
   strange and wild and senseless, were the consequence. It seems to have
   been in those days so entirely a matter of course, that the flesh was
   to be kept in subjection by tortures and penances, that every man or
   woman who desired to take up the cross and follow Christ, began
   naturally to torment themselves, without pausing for a moment to
   inquire, "What saith the Lord?"

   In the case of Henry Suso, it was certainly not in order to escape the
   punishment of sin, or to "gain heaven," that he began a course of
   tortures which has seldom, if ever, been surpassed. After carefully
   reading his life, and the book really written by himself, "The Book of
   the Eternal Wisdom" (and therefore a truer picture of his mind than the
   partly fabulous book of Elizabeth Staglin), we learn that there were
   two reasons which led him to spend twenty-two years in constant pain
   and torment. In the first place, he desired to "keep under his body and
   bring it into subjection," and no better way had ever been taught him,
   than that which Dr. Tauler describes as breaking through a stone wall
   with one's head. "They break their heads," he had said, "and leave the
   wall standing."

   In the second place, it seemed to Henry Suso that a life of suffering
   and pain and self-torture was more seemly for those who were following
   in the steps of Christ, than a life of ease and comfort. And thus,
   again to quote Dr. Tauler, did he proceed "to mix up bitter cups of
   myrrh for himself," instead of waiting for any bitter cup the Lord
   might be pleased to give him. Nor did he realise that he who follows
   the Lord fully, will find that "the fellowship of His sufferings" is a
   needful result of so doing, and that to be hated of all men and to
   become as the offscouring of all things, is harder to bear, than
   self-inflicted torments for which men were admired, and honoured, and
   at last canonised and worshipped.

   It was very soon after this first blessed knowledge of the Eternal
   Wisdom, that one day, when he had been thinking of the love of the Lord
   to him, he felt a desire to have some outward mark of his love to the
   Lord. "And," he said, "oh could I but think of some sign of love, that
   should be an everlasting token of the love between me and Thee! and a
   sign that I am Thine, and that Thou art the One only Beloved of my
   heart, never to be forgotten by me." And then, taking an iron pen, he
   uncovered his breast, and cut into the flesh in large letters, the name
   of JESUS. And having this, he knelt down and prayed, saying, "O Lord,
   the one Beloved of my heart and soul, look upon the great desire of my
   heart. O Lord, I cannot write Thy name within my heart, therefore O
   Lord, I pray Thee that Thou wilt do the work I cannot do and imprint
   Thyself in the depths of my heart, so that I may be truly marked by Thy
   holy name, and that Thou Thyself mayest be present in my heart for
   evermore." The name which he had graven on his heart remained there
   till his death, but he kept it secret, and showed it to none but to one
   friend long afterwards.

   This was but the beginning of his many strange inventions, yet scarcely
   more strange, though far more painful, than the many inventions which
   men and women seek out for themselves in these our days, and in this
   our land of Bibles. There was at least a reality, and a simple love for
   the Lord, in the childish desire to have the name of Jesus graven on
   his heart. And may it not be that to the heart of the Lord that act of
   ignorant devotion was sweet as the loving service of a child -- far
   more so than are the golden and jewelled crosses that give the
   finishing touch to some costly costume in concert-rooms and gay
   assemblies; than the crosses upon the decorated prayer-books of those
   who seek out the churches where their eyes and ears may find an hour's
   enjoyment, and where the Eternal Wisdom "calls and is refused -- she
   lifteth up her hand and no man regardeth."

   To Henry Suso the Lord was a real Presence, and His death and
   sufferings were a reality of which he knew not all the power, but to
   which he turned for rest and comfort, and with adoration and love. "It
   was all as present to him," he says, "as if in bodily nearness he stood
   by His side, and followed Him whithersoever He went. And at times he
   would think, When King David was driven from his kingdom, there were
   true knights who followed him, and delighted to serve him, and so would
   I be to my rejected Lord.' And he would take out the book, wherein was
   written the portion which saith: Who hath believed our report, and to
   whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?' and he would read through to the
   end, all that chapter which speaks of the Lord led forth as a lamb to
   the slaughter, and then would he entreat Him that neither life nor
   death, nor joy nor sorrow, might ever separate the servant from his
   beloved Master."

   How well would it have been had he known that to him who believes, the
   death of the Lord is the death of the old man, and that it is in the
   power of His resurrection that we have victory and triumph! But he knew
   not these things, and he was grieved and troubled to find that the old
   nature yet remained, and that the flesh was strong, and "it was bitter
   and grievous to him, to find himself continually as a heavy burden, of
   which he knew not the way to rid himself." And in his earnestness and
   ignorance, he provided himself with a hair shirt and iron chain, which
   he wore till the blood ran down from the wounds it made. And he wore a
   belt studded with sharp nails, the points of which he drove into his
   flesh. And in this belt he slept all night, or tried to sleep. And when
   he was bitten and stung by insects in the hot weather, he would not
   drive them away, but let them settle upon him and sting him, tying up
   his hands to a collar he had made, lest he should use them for his
   relief. And later he made himself leathern gloves with brazen points,
   so that if in his sleep he should perchance move his hands, the points
   might wound his flesh. And on his back he wore a wooden cross, with
   thirty iron nails driven through it, which he wore for eight full
   years, and once when he had blunted the points with a grindstone, he
   repented of it, and sharpened them again with a file. And daily did he
   scourge himself with leather straps, into which he had fixed iron
   points, with hooks like fish-hooks. And into his wounds he rubbed
   vinegar and salt, altering his penances for different days in the
   calendar of the Church.

   For his bed he had an old door which had been cast away, upon which he
   slept without any blankets, but covered only by an old mat made of
   rushes. For a pillow he had a sack stuffed with pea-shells, and he wore
   the same garments night and day, and under him was the cross with
   pointed nails. And as his mat was too short to cover his feet, they
   were frozen on the cold winter nights, and covered with chilblains. And
   he had many sores from the wounds he gave himself. But he did it all
   willingly, for he said, "I must partake of the sufferings of our Lord
   Jesus Christ," little knowing that such were not the sufferings of Him
   who for righteousness' sake bore the hatred of men, and for sin the
   judgment of God, -- the first, the sufferings of which His own are made
   partakers; the last, the suffering which He endured alone, that it
   might never be known to them, the awful, unfathomable depth of the
   curse of God. But Henry Suso imagined, as many others have done, that
   all suffering was a gain -- if not to atone for sin, at least to mend
   and improve the sinner.

   After a while he gave up the old door, and slept only on his wooden
   chair, and he went into no room where fires were lighted, for
   five-and-twenty years, nor did he take a bath. And he ate but once a
   day, and fasted often, and on fast-days he ate neither eggs nor fish.
   And he ceased almost entirely to drink, allowing himself only a small
   cupful of water every day, and wine but once a year, at Easter-time.
   And at times he would spend the night standing barefoot before the
   altar on the cold pavement, and would rest afterwards only in his
   chair. And his thirst was oftentimes so great, that he scarcely dared
   to look at the bucket drawn up from the convent well, and he would say,
   "Alas! the wide lake of Constance is close at hand, and the broad Rhine
   runs past the convent walls! and yet a drink of water can never be for
   me!"

   Let none think lightly of the evil teaching which in all ages, in one
   shape or another, comes between the soul and God. We can see the folly
   and the sin -- in the case of Henry Suso, the sin of ignorance, which
   clouded over the blessed teaching of the Spirit, and kept him
   constantly employed in self-torment and in will-worship, when he might
   have been telling forth the love of Him who had died to make him free
   from the law of sin and death, and to bring him into the glorious
   liberty of the children of God.

   But we are more apt to be blind to the evil teaching in our own
   generation, than to that of former ages, and to satisfy ourselves with
   the fact that we can see where others err and fall. Let not those cast
   stones at Henry Suso who leave the flesh to master them without let or
   hindrance.

   Some may be found in these present days, who are ready to blame his
   fastings and his long years of thirst, whilst they themselves are
   celebrating their "holy days" by feasting and drinking -- by dainty
   food whereby they mark the seasons when they profess to remember the
   Lord. How is the time observed amongst us, in remembrance of that
   solemn moment when He made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him
   the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men? The hair
   shirts are found no more; but are there none who wear "Lenten
   costumes," and Easter adornments, whilst living in a land of open
   Bibles, and "higher education"?

   Nor let those denounce him, who "having begun in the Spirit, seeks to
   be made perfect by the flesh," in returning to the yoke of bondage, and
   looking to the law given by Moses for the power of holiness, rather
   than to the grace and truth that came by Jesus Christ. Satan beset him
   also during this time with many and great temptations, such as he never
   had had before. He filled him with doubts and questions as to the
   nature of the Lord Jesus; and he would say to him: "How dost thou know
   that thou wilt not be eternally lost? For if thou art not one of the
   Lord's people, who are kept by Him, it matters not what thou believest
   or doest, thou must certainly perish for ever." And he became sad and
   miserable, and he would say to himself, "Was ever a man so wicked as
   thou art?" and so for a while he walked in darkness, and had no light,
   for he knew not how to escape from the snare which Satan had laid for
   his feet.

   At this time there was a great preacher, called Master Eckart, who had
   once lived at Strasburg, before the days when Master Tauler had
   received his first visit from Nicholas of Basle. Since that time, he
   had preached at several German towns, and had made many disciples. He
   had been also condemned for heresy by the Archbishop of Cologne, and by
   the Bishop of Strasburg. As far as we can learn from his sermons which
   have been preserved, he was more deserving of the name of heretic than
   many who ended their lives at the stake.

   But the charges brought against him were not, as it would appear,
   founded upon the errors which he held, but rather upon the fact that he
   had much in common with the Beghards, or "Brethren," or "Friends of
   God." "It is true," says Dr. Keller, "that Master Eckart was closely
   connected with the so-called Waldenses,' and with their apostles." It
   seems probable that he had learnt much from the "Brethren," and being a
   man who delighted in philosophy and human intellect, he worked out by
   degrees a belief of his own, made up of the teaching of "Brethren," of
   heathen philosophy, and of Roman Christianity. But no doubt he strayed
   farther and farther from the truth of God, as men are apt to do, if
   once they begin to philosophize and exercise their reason upon that
   which is above reason, and there may have been a time when the teaching
   of the "Brethren" had a larger place in his sermons, than Plato or the
   heathens of old.

   In any case we find that Henry Suso went to hear him preach, and to
   tell him of his troubles, and his doubts and fears were cleared away,
   and he rejoiced from that time to count himself amongst the despised
   and persecuted "Friends of God." No doubt the mystical philosophy of
   Master Eckart passed over the head of the simple childlike monk, and he
   retained the thoughts so often told in Eckart's sermons, of the love of
   God, and the nothingness of man.

   And in the company of the "Friends of God" he found comfort and joy.
   And he learnt to look beyond the boundaries of the Church that had so
   misled him, for all men knew that Master Eckart was under the ban of
   the Church; and later on he was condemned by the Pope himself.
   Therefore did Henry Suso think lightly of the condemnation of the
   Church, and did not suffer it to put a barrier between him and any man
   in whom he found the love of Christ.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LII

THE KNIGHT OF GOD


   As the song of him who singeth,

   Playing on a harp of gold,

   So to me was Christ's evangel

   In the days of old.


   Thus across the lake of Constance

   Went I forth to preach His Word,

   And beside me sat the squire

   Of a noble lord.


   None in all the ship so knightly,

   None so bravely dight as he --

   "Tell me," I besought, "thine errand

   Yonder o'er the sea."


   "I go forth," he said, "to gather

   Many a knight and noble bold,

   They shall tilt at joust and tourney,

   Whilst fair eyes behold.


   And the bravest and the noblest

   He shall win a glorious prize,

   Smiles to boot and courtly favour,

   In the ladies' eyes."


   "Tell me, what shall be the guerdon?"

   "Lo, the fairest in the land

   Sets a gold ring on his finger,

   With her lily hand."


   "Tell me, how the knight may win it?"

   "Scars and bruises must he boast,

   For the knight shall be the winner

   Who endureth most."


   "Tell me, if when first assaulted,

   He in knightly guise shall stand,

   Shall he win the golden guerdon

   From his lady's hand?"


   "Nay, right on, till all is over,

   Must a worthy knight hold on;

   Bear the brunt, and stand a conqueror,

   When the fight is done."


   "And if he be wounded sorely,

   May he weep, and may he mourn?"

   "Nay, in place of winning honour,

   He would win but scorn."


   Then my spirit sank within me,

   And within my heart I spake,

   "O my Lord, thus fight the knightly

   For their honour's sake.


   Small the prize, and stern the battle,

   Worthless gain, and weary fight --

   Lord, a ring of stones most precious

   Hast Thou for Thy knight!


   Oh to be the knight of Jesus!

   Scorning pain, and shame, and loss;

   There the crown, the joy, the glory,

   Here, O Lord, Thy cross."


   Then I wept for bitter longing

   Thus the knight of God to be;

   And the Lord, who saw me weeping,

   Gave the cross to me.


   Bitter pain, and shame, and sorrow,

   Came upon me as a flood --

   I forgot it was the tourney

   Of the knights of God.


   And again I wept, beseeching,

   "Take away the cross from me!"

   Till a light broke like the morning

   Over the wild sea.


   Then there spake the voice beloved,

   Still and sweet my heart within;

   "Is it thus, O knight of Jesus,

   Thou the prize wilt win?"


   "O my Lord, the fight is weary --

   Weary, and my heart is sore."

   "And," He answered, "fair the guerdon,

   And forever more."


   "I have shamed Thee, craven-hearted,

   I have been Thy recreant knight --

   Own me yet, O Lord, albeit

   Weeping whilst I fight."


   "Nay," He said, "yet wilt thou shame Me?

   Wilt thou shame thy knightly guise?

   I would have My angels wonder

   At Thy gladsome eyes.


   Need'st thou pity, knight of Jesus?

   Pity for thy glorious hest?

   On! let God, and men and angels,

   See that thou art blest."

   BUT the Lord did not leave His servant to wander on in the way of his
   own inventions.

   "God taught him," he says at last, "that he would not have these things
   of his own devisings, and He commanded him to cease from his tortures,
   and to leave it to God to teach him a more excellent way." Thereupon he
   cast his leathern gloves, and his shirt, and his belt, and all his
   instruments of torture, into the water that flowed past the convent
   walls. And he sat still awhile, and began to think within his heart,
   how pure is the truth that is taught by Christ Himself.

   And he spake to himself and said, "Look within, dear friend, and there
   thou wilt find thyself, and thine own will. And observe, that with all
   thine outside penances and torments, which proceeded from thine own
   mind, thou art as unwilling as ever to bear the contradiction to thy
   will that comes from other men. Thou art like a frightened hare, that
   lies hidden in a bush, and shakes and trembles at every leaf that
   stirs; thou art living in constant fear all day and every day, of
   things that might betide. Thou turnest pale if thou seest one of those
   who hate thee. If thou hast to submit to another, thou wilt go out of
   his way. If thou shouldst come forward, thou hidest thyself; if thou
   art praised, it gives thee joy; if thou art reproached, it gives thee
   pain. It may indeed be too true that thou needest a higher school than
   that in which thou hast hither been." And then did he look up to God
   and say, "Alas, Lord! how plainly hast Thou set before me the unwelcome
   truth! Alas, alas! when shall I ever come to the end of my evil self!"

   There followed after this a time of temptation from the evil one, and
   from his own natural heart. For when he was forbidden by the Lord to
   lead the life of torment which had nearly worn out his strength, his
   heart was glad, and he said, "Now may I have an easy life, and comfort
   and enjoyment. I may now drink wine and water, and suffer no more from
   thirst. I may lie without my gloves and belt upon my sack of straw, and
   sleep sweetly all night long. I have laboured long, and wearied soul
   and body. I thought I should never rest again till my time was come to
   depart and to be with Christ. And now may I rest and be satisfied."

   But the Lord spake to him as it were in a parable, and showed him in
   his mind the shoes and armour that knights are wont to wear. And He
   said to him: "Thou hast been but a servant heretofore, and now shalt
   thou be a knight." And he answered the Lord and said, "Why must I be a
   knight? for I seek for rest and ease. But if I must be a knight of God,
   it were better to gain my knighthood by fight and fray, and the honour
   and the glory would be greater." But the Lord said to him: "Fear not,
   for as to the fight and fray, thou shalt have enough and to spare. Thou
   thoughtest that because thy torments are over, thou art now to take
   thine ease. But God has not withdrawn thy neck from the yoke. He has
   but laid upon thee another yoke, and it may be thou wilt find it a
   heavier one to the flesh. For the Lord will try thee with sickness and
   trouble, and temptation, and search and prove thy heart and ways in His
   own wisdom, and according to His own will."

   And he asked the Lord how many sorrows he yet must bear. And the Lord
   said, "Look up to Heaven above thee. If thou canst count the stars,
   that are unnumbered, so mayest thou count the sorrows that are yet to
   come. And as the stars seem small, and yet are very great, so shall thy
   sorrows seem small to the men who know not the ways of God, and yet to
   thee they shall be great, and hard to endure."

   And he prayed to the Lord to spare him these troubles that were yet to
   come. But if it were His will that he should suffer, he besought that
   the Lord would fulfil all His counsels, and complete His work.

   And now began for him a life in which he was to learn far more of the
   grace and power of the Beloved of his soul. He had been shown how,
   through all these years of penance, self had been left enthroned in his
   heart, and that he had been seeking to win for himself the "honour and
   glory," which belonged to Christ alone.

   He had been looking to himself, to his works and penances, instead of
   to Christ, for the power and the victory which are given to faith. He
   had been weighed down and fettered by the armour of Saul, and
   henceforward he was to be armed with the pebble of the brook, and to go
   forward in the name of the Lord of Hosts alone.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LIII

GOD'S CUP OF MYRRH


   I would bear in my body the dying,

   Of Him who has died for me --

   Here share, O my Lord, Thy rejection,

   Ere I sit on Thy throne with Thee.

   I see Thee alone, broken-hearted,

   Of comforters findest Thou none;

   Yet Thine was the gladness of heaven,

   The love and the glory Thine own.


   The gall and the vinegar only,

   The thirst of Thine agony stills;

   Yet Thine were the streams and the fountains,

   Of Thine everlasting hills.

   In sorrow, in want, in dishonour,

   How dear are Thy footsteps to me;

   The fountain is sweet to the thirsty,

   But sweeter is thirsting with Thee.


   Thus to show to the world that rejects Thee --

   To show to the angels above,

   How blessed Thy yoke and Thy burden,

   To him who has tasted Thy love.

   The maiden who gathereth roses,

   Another, another would find,

   So sweet are the tracks of Thy sorrow

   To him who would follow behind.


   Thus would I press on to the glory,

   A knight in the army of God,

   Whose march will be onward and forward,

   Because of the foes on the road.

   Before me the guerdon Thou givest,

   My glorious eternal reward,

   And with me Thy peace and Thy wisdom,

   Because of the Cross of the Lord. -- Henry Suso

   IT was no doubt the case that during his years of penance, be had won
   much praise and honour from his brother monks. For men will admire the
   works which come from man, and the monks had been taught that torments,
   and fastings, and uncleanliness, were marks of holiness well-pleasing
   to God. But Henry Suso found that times were altered now. His
   reputation for sanctity disappeared with his leathern gloves and his
   belt and cross. He found himself very speedily scorned and despised by
   those who had been his friends.

   It so happened that some thieves broke into a little chapel, in which
   were hung up waxen legs and arms, as now we see in Roman Catholic
   countries, being the offerings of lame or disabled people, who believed
   that they had been cured by the image or the crucifix around which they
   were hung. The thieves carried off all the wax, and made their escape.
   But a little child, who had seen Father Henry praying in this chapel
   the day before, assured the mayor of the town that he was the thief,
   and all men believed the child.

   Very soon other stories were spread abroad concerning him. And not long
   after, when he made a journey to the Netherlands, he was brought up
   before a council of priests, who charged him with writing books that
   were full of evil teaching, and of poisoning the whole country with his
   heresies.

   Then was he visited with sickness, and a violent fever, and it was a
   comfort to him that "a blessed Friend of God" came to visit him and
   cheer him.

   But when he had recovered, other troubles came upon him, for his
   sister, who was a nun, betook herself to worldly company, and fell into
   grievous sin, so that she was cast out of the convent, and she fled,
   none knowing whither she was gone. But after many a weary journey in
   search of her, he found her in a cottage in a distant town. He arrived
   wet to the skin, having fallen into a stream, but he regarded it not,
   when he saw his sister ill and broken-hearted, and utterly cast down by
   disgrace and shame. He stayed with her for a while, for he loved her
   deeply, and he spoke to her of the love of Christ for sinners, and the
   Lord, he says, found His sheep that was lost, and carried her in His
   arms, so that she turned to Him, and walked in the ways of holiness,
   till she departed to be with Christ.

   Soon after this another sore trouble came upon Father Henry. He was
   sent to a town where the yearly fair was going on, in order to do some
   business for the convent. A lay-brother, who was not quite right in his
   mind, was given him as a companion, which he did not like, but he dared
   not complain. On the way to the town a shower came on, and they both
   became very wet.

   When they reached the town it was still early, just before dinner time.
   The lay-brother went into a hostelry where there was a good fire, and
   said he would dry his clothes, and that Father Henry should go to the
   fair, and buy all that was needed.

   Scarcely had Father Henry left the house, than the lay-brother sat down
   at the table, where there was a large and noisy party of merchants and
   peddlers, who had come to the fair, and were now going to dine, having
   ordered a large supply of wine. The lay-brother enjoyed their company,
   and drank freely, so that the wine went to his head, and he staggered
   out of the hostelry into the fresh air.

   But some of the guests followed him, and declared that he had stolen a
   cheese from the dinner table, and as he vainly endeavoured to prove his
   innocence, a crowd collected at the door of the hostelry, and the cry
   arose that the monk was one of the well-poisoners, of whom there was
   much talk in those days. For the sickness of the black death was
   spreading through the land, and many said it was because the wells were
   poisoned by evil men.

   "And they shouted at the monk, and seized him, and held him fast. And
   when he saw he could not escape from them, he turned to them and said:
   Be still, and let me speak, and I will confess everything.'

   "Then they were quiet, and hearkened to him, and he said, Look, all of
   you, you see well that I am a poor fool and have lost my wits, you need
   fear nothing from such as I am, but my comrade, he is a wise man with
   all his wits about him, and the Order have given him a little bag of
   poison, with which he is to poison all the wells between here and
   Alsatia, and he is on his way now to poison the well in this town. Look
   to it that you catch him before he murders any of you with his poison,
   for he has just been to throw it into the fountain in the market-place,
   so that all who come to the fair may drink the water and die. And that
   was the reason I stayed in the hostelry, and would not go with him, for
   it grieves me to see him do such evil things. And as a proof that I am
   telling the truth, you will see that he carries a great bag, as if he
   had his books therein. But in truth he has in the bag the little bag of
   poison, and a number of crown pieces, which he and the Order have
   received from the Jews, on condition they should poison the wells.'

   "And when the wild rabble heard all these things, they were furious and
   shouted, Hie after the murderer, that he may not escape us!' And one
   seized a pike, and another an axe, each man what he could lay hold of,
   and they ran yelling and shouting, and forced their way into the houses
   and cottages, where they thought he was hidden, and thrust their pikes
   and swords into the beds and stacks, so that the whole fair ran
   together to see what was the matter."

   Then came there some strangers, who were honest people, and who knew
   Father Henry, and when they heard that it was he who was thought to be
   a murderer, they would have stopped the riot, saying, "He is a godly
   man, and would do harm to none." But they hearkened not, and as they
   could not find him, they took his comrade before the mayor, who shut
   him up in a prison.

   Of all this Father Henry was in happy ignorance, for having remembered
   it was dinner-time, and thinking that by this time his comrade must
   have dried his clothes, he had gone back to the hostelry in order to
   dine. When he came into the hostelry, he was told the mournful tale of
   all that had happened.

   Then in grief and terror he ran to the house of the mayor where his
   comrade was locked up, and entreated the mayor to set him free. But the
   mayor said the man had raised a riot, and he should send him to safe
   keeping in a tower, as a punishment for his crime. Then went Father
   Henry hither and thither, seeking for some to befriend him, but finding
   no man, he offered the mayor some money of his own, and he consented to
   let the lay-brother go free.

   "Then thought he that his troubles were over, but he found they were
   yet to begin. For when at last, after all his trouble and expense, he
   had released his comrade, it was vesper time, and he had yet far to go.
   And as soon as he came out of the mayor's house, the rabble ran
   together, and the boys called after him, There goes the poisoner!' And
   they pursued him, one and all, calling Murder! Murder!' so that he knew
   not how to make his way out of the town.

   "Stop him!' they cried, he has the bag of poison! he shall not escape
   us! He shall be killed on the spot! He shall not get off by his pence,
   as he got away from the mayor!'

   "And when he began to run, they ran the faster. And some of them said,
   We will drown him in the Rhine!' but others said, No, the poisonous man
   will poison all the water of the river, it were better to burn him!'

   "Then rushed forward a stalwart peasant with a red waistcoat, and he
   seized a pike, and forced his way through the crowd, till he was ahead
   of them all, and he shouted: Hear me, gentlemen! we can gut this
   heretic to no more shameful death, than by running him through with
   this pike of mine! That is the way they kill venomous toads! Let me run
   my pike through his body, and stick him up on this good fence, so
   surely, that there he shall remain till his vile corpse is dried by the
   wind, that all the world may know that he is a wicked murderer, and
   curse him after his death, as he well deserves!'"

   Father Henry heard these words with fear and lamentation, and there
   were some who would have saved him, and who wept bitterly when they saw
   that the peasant was close upon him, but they dared not make their way
   through the furious mob to deliver him out of their hands.

   It was now beginning to get dark, and he fled before his enemies, and
   would have taken refuge in one house and another, but everywhere he was
   driven forth with bitter words. Some kind-hearted women would have
   taken him in, but they durst not do so.

   And when he saw that death was close upon him, and that there was no
   help to be looked for from man, he fell on his knees beside a hedge,
   and lifted his eyes to his Heavenly Father, and said: "O Father of all
   mercy, wilt Thou not come for my deliverance in this my need! O Father,
   tender and faithful Father, help me, Thy poor child, in this great
   extremity, for I know not which death would be most grievous, to be
   drowned, or to be burnt, or to be run through with a pike, and one
   death or another must I suffer! Lord, unto thee I commend my spirit,
   for they are close upon me who will take my life!"

   And these words were heard by a priest, who ran forward with strength
   and goodwill, and saved him out of their hands, and took him home to
   his house, and lodged him for the night, so that no harm came to him,
   and in the morning he set him forward on his way to his convent.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LIV

"YE SHALL BE HATED OF ALL MEN"

  THE MAT


   It was on a winter's morning,

   In the days of old --

   In his cell sat Father Henry,

   Sorrowful and cold.


   "O my Lord, I am aweary,"

   In his heart he spake,

   "For my brethren scorn and hate me

   For Thy blessed sake.


   If I had but one to love me,

   That were joyful cheer --

   One small word to make me sunshine

   Through the darksome year!


   But they mock me and despise me

   Till my heart is stung --

   Then my words are wild and bitter,

   Tameless is my tongue."


   Then the Lord said, "I am with thee,

   Trust thyself to Me,

   Open thou thy little window,

   Mark what thou shalt see."


   Then a piteous look and wistful

   Father Henry cast

   Out into the dim old cloister,

   And the wintry blast.


   Was it that a friend was coming,

   By some angel led?

   No! a great hound, wild and savage,

   Round the cloister sped.


   Some old mat that lay forgotten,

   Seized he on his way --

   Tore it, tossed it, dragged it wildly,

   Round the cloister grey.


   "Lo, the hound is like thy brethren."

   Spake the voice he knew;

   "If thou art the mat, beloved,

   What hast thou to do?"


   Meekly then went Father Henry,

   And the mat he bare,

   To his little cell to store it

   As a jewel rare.


   Many a winter and a summer,

   Through those cloisters dim,

   Did he thenceforth walk rejoicing,

   And the Lord with him.


   And when bitter words would sting him,

   Turned he to his cell,

   Took his mat and looked upon it,

   Saying, "All is well.


   "He who is the least and lowest,

   Needs but low to lie;

   Lord, I thank Thee, and I praise Thee,

   That the mat am I."


   Then he wept for in the stillness

   His Beloved spake,

   "Thus was I the least and lowest,

   Gladly, for thy sake.


   Lo, My face to shame and spitting,

   Did I turn for thee;

   If thou art the least and lowest,

   Then remember Me."

   HE had now had to suffer as a thief, a heretic, and a murderer. To
   sleep on a cross studded with thirty nails, and to wear a hair-shirt,
   were sufferings far more creditable. To be canonised and worshipped
   might be the end of such tortures. But to be counted as a heretic and a
   villain, could lead to no such high distinction. His family, and his
   mother's name, had been disgraced and dishonoured by the sister he
   loved. And another reproach was yet to fall upon him, which would touch
   him in a tender point.

   In a certain town was a cloister, in which was a stone crucifix, with
   an image the size of life. One day it was reported that fresh blood was
   to be seen flowing from this image, under the wound which was carved
   upon the side. The whole town ran together to see this marvellous
   sight, and amongst the first who came was Father Henry, who at that
   time was passing that way. When he saw the blood, he went near, and
   touched it with his finger. For this impious act he was seized by the
   crowd, who bid him confess before all the people assembled, that he had
   been a witness of the miracle. He said he was willing to confess that
   he had seen and touched the blood, but as to its being a miracle, he
   must leave it to others to judge.

   The anger of the people was very great, and as they could not compel
   him to say it was a miracle, they declared that he had cut his finger,
   and smeared the blood upon the image, in order to make money by showing
   this pretended wonder to the townsfolk.

   So great was the wrath of the citizens who heard this tale, that he was
   compelled to fly from the town by night. But his flight was discovered,
   and he was pursued by a maddened crowd, from whom in the end he
   escaped. A price was now set on his head, to be paid to any who would
   bring him dead or alive, and in consequence, the evil report of his
   sacrilege spread far and wide, and his name was held up to reproach and
   contempt.

   It may be that if he had still been sleeping upon the old door, and
   daily thrusting nails into his wounded flesh, such evil rumours would
   never have gained credit. But his reputation for holiness was gone, and
   he was scorned and spurned by the monks his fellows and by most men
   besides.

   Many other troubles and sufferings followed, but the Lord did not leave
   His servant without consolation, in the midst of perils in waters, and
   perils by robbers, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness,
   and in perils among false brethren. But a time of rest came, during
   which Father Henry made a journey to a convent of nuns, to visit some
   of his spiritual children. For the Lord had made him to be the means of
   the conversion of many sinners, and he watched over them as one that
   must give account.

   "When he came to the convent," says the story, "his children asked him,
   How goes it with thee?' Then answered he and said, I fear that it goes
   ill with me, for this reason; four weeks have now passed by, in which I
   have suffered neither in body nor in reputation, which is a strange
   thing to me. I fear that God has forgotten me.' And he went to sit down
   for a while by the window.

   "And at that moment there came a brother of the Order, beneath the
   window, and called to him, and said thus, I have just been at a castle,
   where the lord of the castle asked after you, and desired to know where
   you were. And many a hard word did he speak, and he lifted up his hand,
   and swore a great oath, that wheresoever he might find you, he would
   run you through with his sword. And this oath has been sworn also by
   several evil-disposed men, who are his nearest friends, and they have
   sought you in several cloisters, that they might wreak their vengeance
   upon you. Therefore take warning, and keep out of the way, if life is
   dear to you.'

   "Then was he in great fear, and said to the brother, I should like to
   know what I have done to deserve death.'

   "Then answered the brother and said, It has been told to the lord of
   the castle, that you have led away his daughter, and many other people
   besides, into strange and peculiar ways, which they call being in the
   Spirit, and they say that such people, who say they are in the Spirit,
   are altogether the wickedest people who walk upon the earth. And yet
   more, another wrathful man was there, and he also spoke of you saying,
   "He has robbed me of my wife whom I dearly loved. She walks about with
   a veil on, and takes no notice of things around her, she says she only
   desires to look within. All that comes from the monk, and well shall he
   pay for it!" '

   "And when the servant of the Lord heard these things, he said God be
   praised!' and he turned him from the window, and said to his children,
   Good tidings, my daughters, rejoice with me! God has thought upon me,
   and has not forgotten me.' And he told them the tale he had heard, how
   he was to be rewarded with evil, for the good that he had wrought.

   "And in those days it befell him also, that when at times he went into
   the infirmary, to rest his weary body for a little while, or when he
   sat at table silent as was his wont, he was assailed with mockery and
   with unseemly words. And at first these things were very grievous to
   him, and he pitied himself so sorely, that the hot tears would
   sometimes run down his cheeks, and mingle with his food and drink.

   "He would then look up to God, and say with an inward sigh, O God, is
   it not enough that I suffer in my hours of labour? Can I not eat my
   little morsel in peace?'

   "This befell him often and sorely. And once when he could endure it no
   longer, he went away from the table, to the place where he could be
   alone with God. And he spake to the Lord, and told Him how he had at
   all times felt pity and tenderness for all men who suffered, and how he
   had been grieved at all times when he heard hard words spoken of
   others, either before their faces or behind their backs. And how he had
   always defended those who were falsely accused, or entreated for them
   if they were guilty, and how he had wept with the mourners, and
   rejoiced with those who rejoiced. And how it had grieved him to see
   even a bird or beast, however small, suffer pain or hunger.

   "And yet, Lord,' he said, Thou dost permit those whom the beloved Paul
   has called false brethren, to treat me cruelly, as Thou, Lord,
   knowest.'

   "And when he had thus unburdened his heart to God, a still sweet rest
   fell upon him, and the Lord shone into his heart and spake, saying, The
   child-like reasoning which thou hast set forth before Me, cometh from
   this, that thou hast not rightly observed the words and ways of the
   rejected Christ. Thou shouldest know that it is not enough in the sight
   of God that thou hast a kind heart, for this thou hast by nature. The
   Lord looketh for more from thee than this. He desireth for thee not
   only that thou shouldest suffer patiently, when men are hard with thee,
   but that thou shouldest take no rest nor sleep until thou hast gone to
   thine adversary, to soften his angry heart, if so it may be, with
   tender words, and ways. For with such lowliness and meekness thou
   takest from him knife and sword, and he is powerless to harm thee.
   Behold, this is the old and perfect way which Christ has taught His
   own, saying, Lo! I send you forth as sheep amongst the wolves.'

   "But when the servant of the Lord," continues the story, "considered
   this, it seemed to him that this perfect way was far too toilsome, and
   that even to think of it was hard, and harder yet to follow it, yet he
   yielded up his heart to the Lord, that he might begin to learn it.

   "It happened shortly afterwards, that there was a lay-brother, who
   spoke to him with insolence, and reproached him before all present.
   Then did he take it silently and patiently, and desired to think that
   he had done enough.

   "But he was warned in his heart by the Lord, that he must do yet
   further. And when it was evening, this brother went into the infirmary
   to have his supper. And the servant of the Lord went to stand outside
   the door of the infirmary, to wait for the brother to come out. And
   when he came out, the servant of the Lord fell down before him, and
   spake humbly to him, saying My dear and good father, give honour to God
   by looking kindly upon me. If I have grieved you in any matter, forgive
   me for the Lord's sake.'

   "Then did the brother stand still, and looked at him in amaze, and said
   with a voice that was nigh to weeping: What marvellous ways are thine!
   Thou hast never done me any harm, nor hast thou ever harmed any other
   that I know of. But it is I who grieved thee, and that before all
   present, with my wicked words. It is for thee to forgive me, and that I
   entreat of thee.'

   "Then was the servant at rest in his heart, and he went away in peace.

   "And another day, when he sat at meat in the refectory, there was a
   brother who turned upon him with bitter words. Then did he turn to the
   brother and smiled upon him in friendliness, as if he had given him
   some precious jewel. And the brother was pricked in his heart, and was
   silent, and smiled at him again. And after dinner, when this brother
   went into the town, he said, I was put to shame to-day at the dinner
   table as never before in my life, for when I railed at the servant of
   the Lord, he bent his head towards me, and smiled sweetly upon me, so
   that I was crimson with shame. And this shall serve me as a lesson from
   this day forth.'"
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LV

A NEW SONG


   To Thee, Lord, my heart unfoldeth,

   As the rose to the golden sun --

   To Thee, Lord, mine arms are clinging,

   The eternal joy begun.

   For ever through endless ages,

   Thy cross and Thy sorrow shall be

   The glory, the song, and the sweetness,

   That make heaven heaven to me.


   Let one in his innocence glory,

   Another in works he has done --

   Thy blood is my claim and my title,

   Beside it, O Lord, I have none.

   The Scorned, the Despised, the Rejected,

   Thou hast come to this heart of mine;

   In Thy robes of eternal glory,

   Thou welcomest me to Thine. -- Henry Suso

   "AND when the servant considered all that the Lord had thus shown him
   of the hidden wonders of His grace, he spake to the Lord and said, O
   Lord, the sorrows and the troubles through which Thou hast brought me,
   are to the eyes of man, as sharp thorns that pierce through flesh and
   bone. Therefore, O blessed Lord, let these sharp thorns brings forth
   sweet fruit of blessed teaching, that we weary men may learn to suffer
   more patiently, and to praise Thee all the more because Thou givest us
   to suffer.'

   "And the Lord heard his prayer, and he was taken as it were out of
   himself, and he learnt how he who suffers, should turn his sorrows into
   praise to the Beloved who suffered first."

  THE SONG OF PRAISE


   O Lord, in my songs I have praised Thee,

   For all that was sweet and was fair;

   And now a new song would I sing Thee,

   A song that is wondrous and rare.

   A song of the heart that is broken,

   A song of the sighs and the tears,

   The sickness, the want, and the sadness

   Of the days of our pilgrimage years.

   A song of the widows and orphans,

   Of the weary and hungry and sad,

   High praise of the will Thou hast broken,

   The will of the young and the glad.

   A song of the outcasts and martyrs,

   A song of the scorned and despised,

   The lonely, dishonoured, forsaken,

   Who knew the rejection of Christ.

   Loud sings the great choir of sorrow

   The song of the gladness untold,

   To Him, on the throne of His glory,

   Who wept in the ages of old.

   To Thee, O my Father, I offer,

   The psalms of Thy children who weep,

   The songs of the sowers aweary,

   The joy of the blessed who reap --

   Oh sweet to the members the witness,

   They are with the Head ever one;

   With Him who trod first in the pathway,

   That leads from the cross to the throne.

   Thy glory, Lord Jesus, is ours,

   And ours Thy rejection and shame --

   The knights of the King in His beauty,

   Our banner Thy glorious Name.

   Weak, weary, our footsteps may falter,

   Our praises imperfect may be,

   But Thou singest praise in the glory;

   The eyes of our God are on Thee.

   O Rock that wast smitten for sinners,

   Whence floweth the river of God,

   The deeper our guilt and our sorrow,

   The deeper our praise for Thy blood.

   The sorer the thirst of the desert,

   The sweeter the waters must be;

   The fuller our chorus of praises

   That here we have suffered with Thee.

   "And the servant sat still, yet a good while, until all these things
   were to him in the inmost innermost of his soul a solemn reality; then
   did he stand up joyfully, and he praised God for His grace.

   "It also came to pass one joyous Easter day, that the servant felt glad
   at heart, and he sat according to his custom in his little resting
   place, which was a small chapel under the staircase of the convent. And
   he asked God to show him what enjoyment those should have in this
   present time, who had suffered many things for His sake.

   "And God answered him in his heart, and said, All those who suffer
   according to the will of God, may well rejoice, for their patience has
   a great reward, even this -- though they are pitiable in the eyes of
   many, yet many shall rejoice eternally, on account of the praise and
   honour which shall be brought to God through them. They have died with
   Me, and with Me they shall arise. I will give them the desire of their
   heart, for My desires are theirs. I will give them the peace of God,
   that no angel, nor devil, nor man can take away from them. I will give
   them to know the sweetness of the kisses of My mouth, and of My close
   and tender love, and thus shall they know in their hearts that they are
   one with Me for ever and for ever, and they shall not need to ask Me
   for My love, for during this little while there shall not be one single
   moment in which my love shall be withholden from them. But it beginneth
   now, and continueth for ever, though here in their mortal bodies they
   could not bear to know how full and deep is that love of Mine.'

   "Then was the servant glad at these blessed tidings, and he sprang up,
   and it was as if his heart sang within him for joy, and he exclaimed
   aloud, so that the chapel re-echoed with his gladness, and he said:

   "He who has suffered, let him go forth and complain! God knoweth that
   as for me, it is as if I had never had a sorrow all my days on earth
   below! I do not know what sorrow is. I know well what are joy and
   blessedness! For all the desires of my heart are given to me, and what
   need I more!'

   "And then did he speak to the Lord and say: O eternal Wisdom, teach me
   more of this hidden mystery, in so far as it can be spoken in human
   speech, for many are blind and know not this truth, which Thou hast
   made known to me!'

   "Then was it taught further to him in his inmost heart, and thus did
   the Lord make it yet more clear to him, saying Mark those men (alas!
   there are but few), who live as it were no longer, but whose life is
   hidden in God, so that of themselves they make no account. Thus can
   they delight themselves fully and freely in all that which God is
   doing, apart from the thought of themselves, and to them therefore it
   is true that heaven and earth are theirs, and all things are theirs,
   and fulfil their will, because the will of God is their will. And their
   cup overfloweth with joy even here below, because in all things they
   have a joy and delight that is steadfast and full.

   "For in God there is no sorrow, and no suffering but peace and joy
   alone. But there is notwithstanding this hindrance to their perfect
   joy, that sin is yet in them, and to grieve and sorrow for sin must
   needs be, where the heart is right with God. Therefore, when they sin,
   for a while their joy departs. But whilst they walk with God, all is
   peace. For in Him sorrow is not sorrow, and pain is not pain, but all
   is peace and rest, all that God willeth, to them is sweet and pleasant.
   This is not to be understood to mean, that they no longer need to pray,
   for God delighteth in the prayers of His own.

   "Nor is it only that to them the will of God is sweet. It is more than
   this. For to them He gives the fair sunshine of His comfort; and the
   blessed joy of heaven, even here below. So that they live already as it
   were in heaven, and thus it is that here upon the earth they have the
   oil of joy for mourning, and when they depart hence, they enter into
   life everlasting.'"
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LVI

THE TABLET OF WAX


   The hart panteth after the waters,

   The dying for life that departs --

   The Lord in His glory for sinners,

   For the love of rebellious hearts.

   Call back all the days of the ages,

   All snow-flakes come down from above,

   All flowers of summers departed,

   But think not to measure His love.


   Behold Him, O soul, where He told it,

   Pale, bleeding, and bearing thy sin;

   He knocketh, saith, "Open, beloved,

   I pray thee to let Me come in.

   Behold I have borne all the judgment,

   Thy sins, O beloved, are gone;

   Forgotten, forgotten for ever,

   God seeketh, but findeth not one.


   Behold with what labour I won Thee,

   Behold in my hands and my feet,

   The tale of my measureless sorrow --

   Of love that made sorrow so sweet.

   A flax-thread in oceans of fire,

   How soon swallowed up would it be!

   Yet sooner in oceans of mercy,

   The sinner that cometh to me." -- Henry Suso

   THUS had Henry Suso learnt of God, from the day when he cast into the
   Rhine his human inventions, and left it to the Lord to do the work he
   had so vainly sought to do for himself. He had been the bondsman
   toiling under a heavy yoke of his own devising. He was now the knight
   of God, free to serve his glorious Master, and glad and joyful that he
   was counted worthy to suffer shame for His name.

   And now that his eyes were no longer fixed upon himself, the Lord could
   use him as His messenger to bring many souls to Him.

   His conversations with his "spiritual daughter," Elizabeth Staglin,
   appear to have begun about this time. She asked him one day, What is
   the beginning of a holy life? "We find," he said, "different
   experiences in different people. I know a man in Christ, who, when he
   was first awakened, searched all through his conscience with great
   diligence, in order that he might remember all his sins, so that he
   might tell them all, great and small, to his confessor, in the hope
   that having fully confessed all, he might depart in peace, with all his
   sins forgiven, like the penitent woman who washed the feet of the Lord
   with tears, and to whom the Lord said, Go in peace, thy sins are
   forgiven thee.' This was the beginning of this man's spiritual life."

   Here, it would seem, the conversation was suddenly interrupted, and
   Henry Suso left Elizabeth to meditate upon his words. She determined
   promptly to follow the example of this man, and she determined also
   that the confessor to whom she would tell all her sins, great and
   small, should be none other than Father Henry. But as she could not, on
   account of the distance, confess to him by word of mouth, she procured
   a large tablet of wax, upon which she wrote all the sins she could
   possibly remember, and sent it to him carefully packed, with the
   request that he would give her absolution for the whole.

   When he had read through the list of sins, he found these words written
   at the end, "My dear sir, I, sinful woman as I am, fall at your feet,
   and entreat you, that with your faithful heart you bring me back to the
   heart of God, so that I may be your spiritual child in time and in
   eternity."

   "At this implicit confidence in him," says the story, "he was deeply
   touched, and he turned to God and said, Merciful God, what shall I, Thy
   servant, answer to these words? Shall I drive her from me? Lord, I
   could not do that to a little dog. Lord, if I were to do as she
   desires, it might doubtless be displeasing to Thee, my Lord; for she is
   seeking in the servant the abundance of riches which are only to be
   found in the Master, in Thee, my loving Lord! I fall with her before
   Thy blessed feet, Thou gracious God, and I implore Thee, that Thou wilt
   grant her request. O Lord, let her have the answer to her petition, for
   behold, she crieth after us. What didst Thou, Lord, for that heathen
   woman? O Heart of Love, the tidings of Thine endless mercy have been
   told us far and wide, and were her sins yet more and greater,
   forgiveness is in Thee. Lord, turn Thine eyes of tenderness upon her,
   speak to her but that single word of consolation," Daughter, be of good
   comfort, thy faith hath saved thee." "

   And the servant sent an answer back by the messenger who brought the
   tablet, and he said to her that the thing which she had asked of him,
   was already granted to her, and that she now knew well that it was
   given to her, not by the servant of whom she had asked it, but by the
   Father Himself, who had welcomed her to His heart, so that she could go
   in peace, and show to all men what it was the Lord had done for her.
   For the Lord had shown him that God had spoken to her heart, and the
   angels had seen with gladness and rejoicing the grace that was given
   her. And thus did she go on her way, praising the Lord for His great
   salvation.

   It is to be hoped that she learnt after a while that the true list of
   her sins could by no means be compressed into the tablet of wax.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LVII

THE PREACHER AND THE ENEMY


   "O Father! not my will, but Thine be done!"

   Thus with my lips I say;

   Yet lags the heart, the while the lips would run --

   My heart it sayeth "Nay."


   "Be comforted, O child of My delight,

   Though yet thy heart complain;

   For I would have thee suffer when I smite,

   Or pain would not be pain.


   "Were it a chastening if it were not grief?

   Yet for a moment tears;

   Then glows the spring where fell the yellow leaf,

   The spring of endless years.


   "For sorrow is the sorrow of an hour,

   And is eternal love;

   The dusky bud enfolds the glorious flower,

   For God's delight above."


   "O Lord, whose lips are lilies, sweet to me

   As psaltery and as psalm,

   Thy blessed words of glory that shall be,

   Of song and crown and palm.


   "Yet sweeter even now to see Thy face,

   To find Thee now my rest --

   My sorrow comforted in Thine embrace,

   And soothed upon Thy breast.


   "Lord, there to weep, is better than the joy

   Of all the sons of men;

   For there I know the love without alloy,

   I cannot lose again."


   "O child, My heart's beloved, sweet to Me,

   As psaltery and as psalm,

   The voice of him who on the midnight sea

   Can praise through storm and calm.


   "And who is he who seeks the haven fair,

   The everlasting home?

   The lonely and the outcast enter there --

   The glad heart will not come.


   "To Me the weary cometh, when the way

   Is steep, and long, and lone --

   To Me the friendless, when the golden day

   Behind the hills is gone."


   . . . . .


   Then spake my heart, "As who a garment takes,

   When drives the bitter sleet,

   Is he who singeth to the heart that breaks" --

   How then may grief be sweet?


   And lo! in vision fair did I behold

   One who a psaltery strung --

   Two threads he stretched above the strings of gold,

   Across, and all along.


   Then with the threads thus crosswise o'er the strings,

   Gave he the harp to me.

   Thus know I how the broken-hearted sings,

   Lamb of God, to Thee! -- Henry Suso

   THE Lord was pleased to use Father Henry to bring many souls from the
   power of Satan to God, and wherever he went, he sought out the lost and
   the miserable, and spoke to them of the love of Jesus. "Were you
   condemned to death," he would say, "and the sword already lifted to
   execute the sentence, and one were to come between, and receive the
   death-stroke in your place, what greater love could there be than such
   love as this? The first lesson in the school of wisdom, is the lesson
   taught in the open book of the crucified Jesus. Read that page and ask
   yourselves, were a man to give all he had, even if he had the whole
   world to give, could he ever be to Jesus, that which Jesus has been to
   him?

   "And not only is the gift of God so great, the precious gift of His
   Son; there is far more than the greatness of the gift, to melt and
   touch our hearts. We know ourselves, that a little gift given in the
   fulness of tender love, is far more precious to us than many a greeter
   gift would be. But when we think of the gift of God, not only is it so
   marvellously great, but how marvellous is the tenderness and love with
   which He has given it to men! Not only did Jesus die for sinners, but
   it is as if He said: Behold Me, all hearts of men! was ever a heart
   that loved as Mine has loved? For you My heart was pierced, and thence
   My love flows forth to you.

   "It is I, the Eternal Wisdom, I, the depth unfathomable of mercy, who
   have brought forth from My hidden treasure-house the endless riches of
   My grace. It is I, the Eternal Wisdom, who became poor and needy, that
   I might make you rich. It is I who died a bitter death, that you might
   pass from death to life. Behold Me on the high gallows of the cross,
   standing between the dread sentence of God, and the sinners, who were
   righteously condemned.

   "Look at Me and see, behold the Brother and the Bridegroom of Mine own.

   "Sinner! I have as much forgotten all thou hast done against Me, as if
   it had never been done. Come to Me to be washed in My precious Blood,
   and then lift up thine head, and rejoice in Me. O sinner, come, and
   take from My hand the token of perfect peace, of complete and full
   forgiveness. Take from My hand the ring of Mine espousals, and the best
   robe, and the shoes for thy feet, and the new and blessed name of
   Hephzibah, the bride betrothed eternally to Me.

   "Behold how dearly I have bought thee, forsaken of God for thee. I hung
   athirst and bleeding on the cross, but My thirst for Thee was greater
   than the thirst of My lips. And when I had wrought out for thee a full
   salvation, then did I cry: It is finished.

   "I was obedient unto death, the death of the cross. To My Father's
   hands I commended My spirit, and My soul departed. But I, who did all
   these things, was all the while thy God.

   "And then was the sharp spear driven into My side, and thence flowed
   the stream of precious blood, and the river of living water. Sinner,
   wilt thou come to Me?'"

   And far and near, all along the valley of the Rhine, from Constance to
   the Netherlands, in towns and villages amongst the wooded hills, this
   blessed Gospel was preached and the "Friends of God" grew and
   multiplied, and the Servant of the Eternal Wisdom had many souls for
   his hire.

   But it came to pass that amongst those who flocked to hear him, was one
   who seemed to him to desire to know the Saviour, and he spoke often to
   her, and she turned from many evil ways, and he believed that she loved
   the Lord. Therefore as she was poor, and had lost her character, he
   helped her from time to time with little gifts.

   But after a while he heard that she lived in secret, in all her former
   sins. And this grieved him much, and he ceased to visit her, or give
   her money. And thereupon she was filled with anger and malice, and she
   reported far and wide that Father Henry was himself a man of evil life,
   and his brother monks believed it, and many others also, and he was
   despised and disgraced as never before. And his friends turned away
   from him, for they were ashamed of his company. And one whom he loved
   more than the rest, told him he would have no more to say to him, and
   spoke bitter words which cut him to the heart.

   Then he besought him lovingly, and said it was an evil thing to trample
   on him who was down, but if all friends forsook him, there remained for
   him the heart of Jesus.

   But his old companion answered, "It is all over with you, and none will
   listen now to your preaching, and all men will cast away your books,
   and read them no more.

   Then did Father Henry answer, "I trust to God in Heaven, that my books
   shall yet be read and loved as they never yet have been."

   And a little while after he sat in his quiet chapel, and he heard in
   the depths of his soul a voice that spake and said: "Hear a comfortable
   word that I will read to thee. And this is the word: Thou shalt no more
   be termed Forsaken, neither shall thy land be anymore termed Desolate,
   for the Lord delighteth in thee.'"

   And it was as if these words were read to him three or four times over.
   And the Lord spake further to his heart and said, "Thus shall the
   Eternal God thy Father do to thee."

   And when he thought over these things, it was given him to see that the
   hand of God was in all that had befallen him and that He uses
   oftentimes to chasten His beloved for their good, by means of His
   enemies. And yet another time the Lord spake to his heart, and said,
   "Remember that Christ the Lord was willing to endure not only the
   company of His beloved disciple John, and His faithful Peter, but also
   of the wicked Judas."

   And a swift thought came into his heart, and he said, "Alas, Lord, if
   I, the poor Friend of God, had but one Judas, perchance I might endure
   it, but now at this present moment every corner is full of Judases, and
   if one goes away, four or five more come in his place."

   But the Lord answered him and said: "For a man who walks with God, no
   Judas is a Judas, but a workman by whom the Lord works for the good of
   His beloved. And when Judas gave the Lord a false and evil kiss, He
   called him Friend, saying, Friend, wherefore art thou come?'"

   Thus time went on, and he took comfort in the thought that the matter
   had not yet been brought before the Bishops and Inquisitors of the
   Order. But soon he heard that the Bishops and Inquisitors were about to
   meet in council in the very town where the wicked woman lived, and
   where all men believed her tale.

   Then did his heart fail, and he went to his little chapel, and gave
   vent to his grief. He could not pray, but he walked to and fro, and now
   he sat down, and now sprang up in restless dismay, and could say only,
   "O God, what meanest Thou by this?"

   Then did the Lord say, "Where is now that joy in sorrow, which thou
   hast spoken of so often to other men, and of which thou hast said sweet
   and blessed words?"

   Then did he answer the Lord: "Thou askest me where is my joy in sorrow?
   And I ask Thee, where is Thy fathomless mercy to Thy Friends? O Lord, I
   believed in Thy goodness, I believed Thou wert a faithful God to all
   who put their trust in Thee. But the tenderness of His eyes is turned
   away from me, and His blessed Face beholds me no more. O Lord, Thou
   knowest that all my trust and comfort was in Thee, and in none besides
   on the face of the earth."

   And for half the day was he thus rebellious against God. And then, when
   he had wearied himself with complaining, he sat down, and turned from
   himself to God, and said: "Thy will be done."

   And thereafter the Prelate and the Master of the Order summoned him,
   and said they had made strict inquiries concerning him, and had found
   no charge to bring against him. But that a bad woman, whose word was
   nothing worth, had spoken false calumnies against a worthy man, and
   that such evil report might be spread of any man, if people were
   willing to lend an ear to every slanderous tongue.

   Then said he often, "O Lord, how true is the word that Thou hast
   spoken, If God be for us, who shall be against us!'" And he praised God
   fervently for the sorrow that was past, and he said he would not for
   the whole world have been without that time of humiliation, for therein
   had he been more driven out of himself, and brought further into the
   depths of the love of God, than any other sorrow that he had had from
   his youth up.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LVIII

FROM THE WORLD TO GOD


   "I am not." Oh words unwelcome,

   To the lies of men:

   "I am not." Oh words that lead us

   Back to God again!


   Speech of him who knows the pathway

   To that refuge sweet,

   Where is covert from the tempest,

   Shadow from the heat.


   Speech of Heaven, from wise men hidden,

   Unto children taught;

   Few the words of that great lesson,

   Only "I am not."


   Heart of man, another language

   Is thy native speech,

   Spoken by a thousand races,

   All alike in each.


   "I am," -- rich, or wise, or holy --

   "Thus, and thus am I;"

   For "I am," men live and labour,

   For "I am," they die.


   For "I am" men dare and suffer,

   Count all loss as gain,

   Toil and weariness and bondage,

   Sin and grief and pain.


   In the blessed Gospel read we

   How a rich man bade

   Christ the Lord and His disciples

   To a feast he made.


   Well it was to feed the prophet!

   Thus the rich man thought,

   But amidst his wealth and bounty,

   Lacked he, "I am not."


   Then there came a sinful woman,

   Eyes with weeping dim --

   "I am not," her heart was saying --

   She had looked on Him.


   He beheld her broken-hearted,

   Ruined and undone,

   Yet enthroned above the angels

   Brighter than the sun.


   All the while in dust before Him

   Did her heart adore,

   "I am not, but Thou art only,

   Thou art evermore."


   For His heart to hers had spoken,

   To His wandering lamb,

   In the speech of Love Eternal

   He had said "I AM."


   Now she thirsts no more for ever,

   All she would is given,

   None on earth hath she beside Him,

   None beside in heaven.


   Oh, how fair that heavenly portion,

   That eternal lot;

   Christ, and Christ alone, for ever --

   Ever, "I am not." -- Henry Suso

   IT was soon after this, that Father Henry went forth to evangelize
   amongst the convents in which young girls were brought up, with a view
   to their becoming nuns. But these convents, which were left open to
   intercourse with the world, were very frequently places of worldly
   amusement, and the girls lived a gay life, in which they were
   encouraged by the nuns.

   "And many," said Father Henry, "wore religious dresses with very
   worldly hearts underneath them."

   "In one of these cloisters," he continues, "was a fair young maiden of
   noble family, who was ensnared in the net of Satan, and for several
   years had wasted her heart and her time upon gay and costly amusements,
   and was so dazzled thereby, that she always fled from the servant of
   the Eternal Wisdom as if she had been a wild deer, because she was
   afraid that he would tell her to give up her ways of pleasure.

   "But she had a sister, who entreated the servant to do all that he
   could to bring her from her evil ways to the Eternal God. This seemed
   to him an impossible request, and he said: Methinks the Heaven would
   sooner come down to the earth, than that she should cease from her
   ways, unless it be by death.'

   "But her sister besought him fervently and said, that she had faith to
   believe if he would ask this thing of God, it would be granted him.

   "Now as she always fled from him, when he went to the convent, he found
   out that on a certain day which was S. Margaret's day, she and the
   other young sisters were to go out into a field to pull their flax. He
   therefore followed them without being observed, and went round the
   field, so that he might suddenly turn upon her unexpectedly.

   "And when she saw that he was comings up to her, she insolently turned
   her back upon him, with a wrathful countenance, and called out loudly,
   Sir monk, what right have you to force yourself upon me? Go about your
   business, I strongly advise you, for there is nothing to be had from
   me. I can tell you, before I would confess to you, I would have my head
   cut off. And before I would follow your preaching, and give up my
   pleasures, I would be buried alive.'

   "Then did the companion who was standing nearest to her reprove her,
   and sought to stop her mouth, saying, He only speaks to you for your
   good.'

   "But she tossed her head and said, I say what I mean, I am not going to
   put on anything, I wish him to know what I think.'

   "And the servant was grieved at her bold speech and unseemly behaviour,
   and he was silent, for he could not speak. And the other sisters, who
   heard the outcry she made, were grieved also, and rebuked her.

   "And the servant turned aside, and left her, but he looked up to God
   and sighed. And he would have given up his attempt, were it not that an
   inward persuasion from God wrought in his heart, and he thought, He who
   would do aught for the Lord, or even for the world, should not give in
   so soon.' This was in the afternoon.

   "Afterwards, when the evening came, after supper the sisters went all
   together into the court, to pill the flax that they had gathered, and
   the young damsel went with them. And as she had to pass the door of the
   refectory, where the servant sat, he besought one of her playmates to
   bring her in by some cunning device, and then to leave her suddenly.
   And with some difficulty she did so.

   "And as the damsel sat down upon the window seat, he came to her and
   said, Dear maiden, thou art set apart for God. How long wilt thou give
   thy fair self, and thy loving heart, to the devil who would destroy
   thee? The Lord has made thee fair and noble, and given thee many a
   gracious gift. And it is a sorrowful thing that one who has the face of
   an angel, should bestow her heart upon any other than the One who is
   the Highest and the Holiest. Who has a right to pluck the rose, but He
   to whom the rose belongeth?

   "Nay, beloved maiden, open those clear young eyes, and behold Him who
   is the Eternal Love, the Love that will be for ever and for ever. And
   for those who drink the sweet poison of the enemy, forgetting the death
   that follows, for them in time and in eternity, is misery alone. I
   promise thee and assure thee, that God will take thee now for His
   beloved, and will be faithful and true to thee, here on earth, and for
   ever in Heaven.'

   "It was the hour of grace. For the words he spake sank deeply into her
   heart, and she was melted as he spoke them. And as he ceased to speak,
   she lifted up her eyes, and sighing deeply, she spake, and said to him:

   "My father, I give myself up to God and to you. And I bid farewell to
   my wild and wilful life, and with your help and counsel, I yield myself
   to the blessed Lord, to be His for ever, and to serve Him all my days.'

   "Then said he, This is a joyful hour! Praise be to the loving Lord, who
   gladly welcomes all who turn and come to Him!' And further did he speak
   to her of God, and she spake freely with him.

   "And the playmates she had left, gathered together outside the door,
   for they were displeased at the long converse that she had with him,
   and they feared that she would forsake their gay company. Therefore
   they called to her, and told her to put an end to this talk.

   "Then she rose up, and went out to them, and spake to them thus, Dear
   friends, may God bless you! And now farewell. For I can no more be in
   the company wherein my time is thrown away upon idle things, for I
   would belong to God, and I would give up all besides.'

   "And from that time, she did as she had told them, for she avoided all
   company that would draw her away from God. And though they did all they
   could to draw her back to her old life, it was of no avail, and she was
   true to the Lord all her days, and lived to His glory.

   "And it was after these things, that the servant set out on a journey
   that he might visit his young daughter, and encourage her in the ways
   of the Lord, and comfort her if so be he should find her in any
   trouble. And as he was ill at the time, he was wearied by his long
   journey on foot, through miry places, and up the steep mountain paths.

   "And ever and anon, he would lift his eyes to the living God, and would
   say, Merciful Lord, remember Thy weary footsteps, when Thou walkedst on
   this earth for the salvation of men, and strengthen me Thy child.'

   "And his comrade upon whom he leant, encouraged him and said, God will
   of a surety grant to you of His grace and goodness, that many a soul
   shall be strengthened by you.

   "And as he went further, and found at last he could walk no more, for
   he was spent with weariness, his comrade spake again and said, Dear
   father, God will surely look upon your great weariness, and send you a
   little horse to ride on, till you reach the place where your friends
   are living.'

   "Then said the servant, Now do I believe, that if we both ask the Lord
   to do as thou hast said, He will grant our petition.'

   "And thereupon the servant looked around him, and at the right hand
   there came out of a wood a gentle little horse saddled and harnessed,
   and it came all alone, no man being near it.

   "Then did the comrade shout for joy, and say, See, dear father, see,
   the Lord will not forsake you!'

   "He answered, Look, dear son, all round and round this wide held, to
   see if there is any man to whom the horse belongs.'

   "And the comrade sought far and near, and saw nothing moving but the
   little horse, which trotted towards them. And he said, Father, truly
   God has sent it for you. Get upon it and ride.'

   "And he answered, Behold, my comrade, if the horse stands still, as
   soon as it comes up to us, I will take it as a sign from God, that He
   has sent it for our need.'

   "Then the little horse trotted up gently, and stood still before them.
   And he said to it, Welcome, in the name of the Lord!' And his comrade
   helped him up on the horse, and he rode thereon till he was well
   rested. And as they came nigh to a village, he got off the horse, and
   tied up the bridle, and let the horse go, and it returned by the way it
   came. Whose it was, and whence it came, he never could learn from that
   day to this.
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LIX

THE GOSPEL OF THE FRIENDS OF GOD


   "To me to live is Christ" -- and yet the days

   Are days of toiling men;

   We rise at morn, and tread the beaten ways,

   And lay us down again.


   How is it that this base, unsightly life,

   Can yet be Christ alone?

   Our common need, and weariness and strife,

   While common days wear on?


   Then saw I how before a Master wise

   A shapeless stone was set;

   He said, "Therein a form of beauty lies,

   Though none behold it yet.


   "When all beside it shall be hewn away,

   That glorious shape shall stand,

   In beauty of the everlasting day,

   Of the unsullied land."


   Thus is it with the homely life around,

   There hidden Christ abides,

   Still by the single eye for ever found,

   That seeketh none besides.


   When hewn and shaped till Self no more is found,

   Self, ended at Thy Cross;

   The precious freed from all the vile around,

   No gain, but blessed loss;


   Then Christ alone remains -- the former things

   For ever passed away;

   And unto Him the heart in gladness sings,

   All through the weary day. -- Henry Suso

   THIS little story, related in the words of the original, gives a vivid
   picture of the mission work of an Evangelist amongst the Friends of
   God. We must not suppose that no more of the Gospel was preached to the
   lost, than is here related, for in reading through the history and the
   writings of Henry Suso, we find that the Blood of Christ was the one
   only hope which he held out to the lost, as the means of forgiveness,
   perfect and eternal.

   It is true that like many in more enlightened days, he did not see that
   "the worshipper, once purged, has no more conscience of sins." He
   speaks of the constant and repeated washing which needs to be applied
   to one sin after another, but though he did not see that being once
   washed, no spot of guilt can ever again be found upon the soul that has
   believed in Jesus, he directed none to any other fountain for sin and
   for uncleanness, than that precious Blood alone.

   "The holy Blood, once flowing down for sin," he said, "is that which
   renders pure and clean every soul who turns to Christ, the Blood shed
   in unspeakable love, for the comfort and salvation of every sinner who
   comes to Him. As a little child is bathed and cleansed in a warm bath
   of water, so is the soul washed from every spot and stain, and made
   pure and free from guilt by the power of the precious Blood."

   We can therefore be assured that during the long talk in the refectory,
   the damsel was led to that blessed fountain, and that it was not merely
   an act of her own will, when she yielded herself up to God.

   We can trace too in this story, the golden thread which ran through all
   the teaching of the Friends of God. It was not, in the first place, the
   thought of the danger and guilt of the unsaved soul, which lay as a
   weight on the heart of Henry Suso. But it was the thought that the Lord
   was despised, and wronged, by those whose hearts were given to aught
   that was less than God.

   It was the thought that the love of Christ was rejected, and that it
   was His sheep who was straying upon the dark mountains, and that to
   find the sheep would bring joy and gladness to Christ and to His
   angels.

   Yet all this while had Henry Suso never dared to think that purgatory,
   and saint worship, and the mass, were but human inventions, and though
   in the history of his inner life we find that these things can scarcely
   be said to have a place, he went through the forms and services of
   Rome, "in obedience to the Church," and warned no man against them.

   Yet we never find that he taught any man that the cleansing by the
   precious Blood must come to them through priest or sacraments. He told
   them to go to Him who died for them, and to none other, for peace and
   life.

   "A man," he preached, "was once broken down beneath the intolerable
   burden of his sins. And he had prayed, often and much, but his prayers
   helped him not. And as he sat in his cell in darkness and sorrow, the
   Lord spake to him and said, look up and see Me, Jesus who was
   crucified, and thy burden will fall from thy back.' And so it was, for
   his sorrow and his darkness fled away in that swift moment of time. For
   this darkness and sorrow come from this, that men do not know what is
   the God with whom they have to do.

   "Behold! God is a fountain inexhaustible of mercy and of goodness -- so
   that never was there a mother who would stretch out her hand so quickly
   to draw forth her own child from the fire, as God stretcheth forth His
   hand to the sinner who repenteth, were it possible that that man had
   committed every day a thousand times, all the sins of all men put
   together.

   "O beloved Lord! why art Thou so altogether lovely to many a heart
   amongst us? Why is it that many an one is now rejoicing in Thee? Is it
   because of their sinless lives? Nay, truly is it not. But it is because
   they know how great and grievous is their sin, because they know how
   unworthy they are of Thee, and yet that Thou, O blessed Lord, hast
   freely given Thyself to them.

   "O Lord, in this is Thy greatness and Thy sweetness, that Thou needest
   and desirest no righteousness of ours. Thou forgivest as freely the
   debt of one hundred marks, as the debt of one small penny, and one
   thousand deadly sins as readily as one. Never, Lord, can me thank Thee
   as we would. For according to Thy holy Word, it is better for us to be
   forgiven and saved, than if we had never sinned, for we could not then
   have loved Thee as we love Thee now."

   "It is to God Himself," he said further, "that we must go. Not by
   images, or forms of prayer, taught or read, or dictated. It is only
   with the innermost heart, with the spirit in us, that we can speak to
   Him who is a Spirit. Spirit to spirit, heart to heart, as the Lord has
   said of those who worship Him in spirit and in truth. For God
   understandeth the speech of the heart, and the desire of the soul. The
   presence of Mary at His feet told more to Him than the complaining
   prayers of Martha.

   "It is not through images that we can reach up to Him, who is far above
   and beyond all images and forms. When the living presence of Jesus was
   taken away from His own, it was not that they were to have Him less,
   but in a lovelier, in a diviner way -- He left them as to His bodily
   presence -- as to the supernatural communion of the soul to Him, He
   left them not. For when He rose up to heaven before their eyes, He took
   up there with Him, all their hearts, and all their minds, and all their
   love.

   "So is it with us. He is gone up to heaven, into the bosom of the
   Father, into the Father's heart of love, and we ascend up there with
   Him, with all our hearts, and all our love, and rest where He resteth,
   in the Father's heart.

   "There is there no separation, but one life, one existence, as He is
   one with the Father. And thus it is that being one with Him we can be
   as clear, bright mirrors that reflect His glory.

   "Thus did S. Paul say, Our conversation is in heaven,' for it is where
   God is, brought nigh to Him in Christ our Lord. Not that we are to
   suppose that there is no difference between the nature of Christ, and
   the nature of men. He has humanity in common with us, but He has a
   humanity which distinguishes Him from other men, He is truly a man, but
   He is a man of a higher order. He is in Himself, God and man. Of Him
   alone can it be said, that His human nature is absolutely pure, having
   neither sin, nor the consequences of sin. Therefore it is He alone who
   could be the redeemer of fallen guilty men."
     __________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER LX

THE LABOUR ENDED, THE REST BEGUN


   To praise Him in the dance! O glorious day!

   The pilgrim journey done --

   No more press forward on the weary way,

   For all is reached and won!


   His Hand at last, the Hand once pierced for me,

   For ever holdeth mine --

   O Lord, no songs, no harps of heaven will be

   Sweet as one word of Thine.


   Lord, altogether lovely! then at last

   High shall the guerdon be;

   Thy kiss outweigh the weary ages past,

   Of hearts that brake for Thee.


   . . . . .


   Yet now I know Thee as the hidden Bread,

   The living One, who died --

   Who sitteth at my table -- by my bed --

   Who walketh at my side.


   I know Thee as the fountain of deep bliss,

   Whereof one drop shall make

   The joys of all the world as bitterness,

   My Lord, for Thy sweet sake.


   Lord, Thou hast loved me; and henceforth to me

   Earth's noonday is but gloom;

   My soul sails forth on the eternal sea,

   And leaves the shore of doom.


   I pass within the glory even now,

   Where shapes and words are not,

   For joy that passeth words, O Lord, art Thou,

   A bliss that passeth thought.


   I enter there, for Thou hast borne away

   The burden of my sin --

   With conscience clear as heaven's unclouded day

   Thy courts I enter in.


   Heaven now for me -- for ever Christ and heaven --

   The endless Now begun --

   No promise -- but a gift eternal given,

   Because the work is done. -- Henry Suso

   IT came to pass as time went on, that after the pestilence and the
   earthquakes, there were years of famine and scarcity. And those people
   who had formerly given bread or wine to the convent, had none to give,
   and the convent became not only very poor, but fell into debt. Then the
   monks met together to consult as to what they should do. And they
   agreed to choose Henry Suso to be their prior. No doubt they knew that
   by reason of his preaching and his books, he was known far and wide,
   and had many friends amongst rich people.

   He was grieved and distressed that he was to be put into a high place,
   for he knew that, it would be the beginning of great and fresh troubles
   to him.

   The first day he had the bell rung to assemble the Chapter. Elizabeth
   tells us, "He exhorted them to call upon the beloved S. Dominic, the
   founder of their Order, because he had promised with God's assistance
   always to come to their help."

   This, however, was very unlike the usual practice of Father Henry, and
   is contradicted by that which followed, though he probably in some way
   referred to S. Dominic. For when he had exhorted the monks in few
   words, two of them, who were sitting close together, looked at one
   another and smiled, and in mocking wise one of them said to him:

   "See what a foolish man we have for a prior, for he tells us to take
   our need to God. Does he think God will open heaven, and send down meat
   and drink to supply us every day?"

   And the other said in reply, "Not only is he a fool, but we are all
   fools together, for having chosen him to be our prior, although we knew
   perfectly well beforehand, that he knows nothing about business or
   earthly matters, and is always gazing up to heaven."

   And the other monks joined in, with many words of derision.

   The next morning as he was standing in the choir, the porter called him
   out to speak to a rich canon, who was a friend of his. The canon said
   to him, "Dear sir, you are not a man of business. Last night I was
   warned by God to give you some help as from Him. I bring you,
   therefore, twenty pounds of pence of Constance for a beginning. Trust
   God, for He will never forsake you." Then was he glad, and took the
   money, and bought therewith wine and corn. And God helped him thus all
   the while that he was prior, and made him always able to pay for
   everything, so that no debts remained.

   But on the other hand, much trouble came upon him by means of the
   canon. For being a very rich man, he gave to Father Henry from time to
   time, and also on his deathbed, a large sum of money to give to the
   poor. And in consequence, when he had given it away, many complained
   bitterly that they had not had their due share. And troubles many and
   great came upon him, for he was slandered and despised. For many
   believed he had used the money for dishonest purposes, and he was
   brought before prelates and magistrates, and unjustly condemned for
   things of which he was innocent.

   But the Lord taught him therein many lessons, and he learnt to comfort
   those who were in tribulation, with the comfort wherewith he himself
   was comforted of God.

   And he was also able to teach wholesome lessons to many, who because
   they had no real troubles, made troubles for themselves, making as it
   were mountains out of molehills.

   "There was once," he said, "a deeply afflicted man who passed by a
   house, wherein he heard a woman lamenting piteously. And he said to
   himself, Go in, and comfort that poor creature in her trouble.'

   "Therefore he went in and said, Dear woman, what is your sorrow that
   causes you so much lamentation?'

   "She answered, I have dropped my needle, and I cannot find it.'

   "Then did he turn away and left the house, and he thought, Thou foolish
   creature, hadst thou but to bear my burden, thou wouldest not weep over
   a needle.' Thus many are truly miserable, who have no true afflictions.

   "And others are there, who are pierced with a sword through heart and
   soul, to see that the Lord is so lovely and so sweet, and yet that
   there are men on every hand, who see no beauty in Him that they should
   desire Him.

   "Oh could we but in all things let go all else, and cast ourselves
   simply on God, then should we never be troubled as to the things that
   befall us, for His will would be ours. It was once shown to a man, how
   he should thus let go all that was his own. He was made to suppose that
   far away on the deep sea he was all alone, with nothing under him but
   his cloak, no land in sight, far or near. What would he do? He could
   neither call for help, nor swim, nor wade. What then? He must trust
   himself to God. Let us rejoice when God cuts off from us all means and
   resources, that we may have nothing left but Himself."

   And here his story ends, for Elizabeth Staglin died before her
   spiritual father, and in his own books he tells us no more of that
   which befell him.

   His two books, "The Book of the Eternal Wisdom," and "The Book of
   Truth," are in the form of dialogues. The first between the Eternal
   Wisdom, and His servant. The second between a disciple, and the Truth.

   Much that is of the Spirit's teaching do we find in these books, and we
   feel in reading them that yet more was taught to the heart of the
   Lord's servant, than he was able to express in words. He says himself,
   "One thing must I give you to know. He who listens to a sweet chord
   touched by the hand of a musician, knows the sweetness of the music, as
   he cannot know it who hears another man speak of it, and hears it not
   himself. And even so is the difference between the words spoken in pure
   grace by the Lord, the words that come from a living heart, and are
   spoken by a living mouth, if we compare them with the same words when
   they are written down upon the dead parchment, and have to be rendered
   in the German tongue.

   "Then are they like roses that have been plucked, and that wither apart
   from the stem. For it is the sweet tone of the spiritual Voice that
   reaches and touches the heart, and cannot be written down, and the
   living words fall dead oftentimes upon hearts that are dead and dry.
   For never was a harp string of so musical a sound, but that when
   touched by a dry stick it would be silent and dumb. And the joyless
   heart can as little understand the joyful tongue, as a German could
   understand an Italian. And therefore let the man who reads the Book of
   the Eternal Wisdom' bear ever in mind, that the stream is not the
   fountain. And let him go himself to the fountain-head there to learn
   the glory and the beauty and the sweetness, where alone they are to be
   found, and where is the presence of the ever-flowing grace, which can
   make the dead heart alive and glad."

   But strangely, as a sudden discord in the sweet music, do we find in
   "The Book of the Eternal Wisdom," several pages of "the worthy praise
   of the pure Queen of Heaven!" Not the Eternal Wisdom, but Mary, "the
   Mother of all grace!"

   Idolatry so degraded, so blasphemous, and so senseless, that it might
   well serve as the saddest sample of the fall of the apostate Church.

   But so different is it in style and language from the writing of Henry
   Suso, that it might well be known as from another hand, even before we
   find the explanation.

   It is, we are told, inserted from the writings of Bernard of Clairvaux.

   When, and by whom, these pages were inserted we cannot know, though the
   intention of the copyist was that it should pass as having been done by
   Suso himself. We recall his words previously mentioned, in which he
   says that even in his lifetime his books had been strangely altered by
   scribes and copyists, each one adding thereto, or taking from them, as
   he deemed best.

   And when at his death, his books, as he originally wrote them, were
   left to the safe keeping of the Dominican monks, and only reproduced
   long afterwards, "having been collected and revised by the worthy
   reading-master, Brother Felix Faber," we can only wonder that so much
   remains which could not have been written by any, but a man taught of
   God.

   We are therefore sure of the authorship of that which a dishonest
   copyist could never have invented, but admitting that there was still a
   mass of ignorance and superstition left to cloud the mind of Henry
   Suso, we can readily believe that the improvements made by the monks
   were by no means scanty.

   It may be remembered how, in the case of Nicholas von Laufen, this
   practice of altering the original to suit Roman Catholic readers, has
   been clearly proved. And we may remember, too, that it was the known
   and admitted practice of those times.

   It is perhaps well to have in one book, passages to prove how sharp was
   the contrast between the teaching of a "Friend of God," and a Roman
   saint -- between the canonized Bernard of Clairvaux, and the despised
   and persecuted Henry of Constance.

   It would seem, however, that Henry Suso did not remain very long the
   prior of the convent at Constance. Later on we hear of him in a convent
   at Ulm, and there on the 25th of January, 1365, lie died, and was
   buried in the cloisters. Some name a later year as the time of his
   death, but the earlier date seems the most probable. His age has been
   differently stated as sixty-four, seventy, and eighty-six.

   The practice which has prevailed in other countries besides Judaea, of
   honouring the righteous after their death, though despising them till
   they could no longer bear witness for God, was so far followed in the
   case of Henry Suso, that his grave was regarded with great reverence,
   when discovered by accident in the year 1613.

   On the other hand, a greater honour fell to the lot of Suso when in the
   year 1576, the general of the Jesuits, Everard Mercurian, published the
   following edict: "Also to those of our order is forbidden the reading
   of the books of certain spiritualistic authors, who even less accord
   with our views, such as Tauler, Ruysbrock, Henry Suso; and none of
   their writings may be anywhere allowed in our colleges, except by the
   will of the Provincial Father."

   In conclusion, we may observe that the life of Suso, written by
   Elizabeth Staglin, and no doubt improved upon later by many even more
   superstitious than she was, can be regarded only as containing true
   facts, which we must carefully weed from the legends and fables with
   which it abounds.

   That these foolish legends are rather to be attributed to Elizabeth,
   than to Henry himself, would seem to be probable, when we consider the
   following passage from one of his sermons:

   "One finds many people who have strange fancies and dreams. They see
   all kinds of beautiful things, and things to come, in their sleep. They
   see saints, in this way, or departed spirits. I do not say that such
   things can never be, for an angel appeared to Joseph in his sleep. On
   the other hand, I would give no encouragement to such things, for they
   often arise from natural causes. He whose mind is filled with pure and
   lovely things, will often dream of such, and fools will dream of folly.

   "One finds people also, who have all sorts of visions and revelations,
   and supposing that, for the space of ten years, such things came from
   God, yet can the evil one find opportunities to mix himself up with
   them, and deceive and mislead people.

   "In all such revelations, the utmost you can do, is to see whether you
   have the testimony of Holy Scripture as a confirmation thereof. Put
   away from you, as you value your own salvation, everything which you
   cannot find to accord with the Scripture, and with the word of the
   teachers of the Church."

   This last sentence (the teachers of the Church) explains, alas, many an
   error and folly into which Suso fell, though, on the other hand, as we
   know, he thankfully accepted the teaching of the "Friends of God," in
   spite of the fact that they were condemned by the priests of his
   Church.

   To him it was, to use his own words, a blessed experience and reality,
   "Lord, never was a magnet so powerful to draw to itself the hard steel,
   as Thou, the Lord, lifted up on the cross, art powerful to draw me
   through joy and sorrow from all that is in the world to Thee and to Thy
   cross; form me and shape into the image of the suffering Jesus here
   below, that I may enjoy Thee eternally in the high glory whither Thou
   art gone."

   And now we take leave for a while of the "Friends of God" of those
   olden days -- soon to meet them again, not in imperfect records, and
   amongst dark superstitions, and many delusions, but in "the high glory"
   which shone down into their hearts; in the "light that is love;" to
   join them in blessed song which is led and attuned by Christ, in which
   there shall be no discordant note, and when at last all true
   worshippers gathered in one, shall worship the Father together, in the
   Spirit and in truth.

   And let us ask ourselves, "What manner of people ought we to be in all
   holy conversation and godliness," in love, in devotedness, in
   unworldliness, who have not only the same Lord and Saviour, but open
   Bibles, and Gospel teaching on every hand, and the broad day instead
   ofthe dim twilight, and the open door set before us which no man can
   shut, and the glorious hope so long lost to the Church, held forth
   before our eyes!

   For to us has been given the Morning Star.

   And to each who read of the wonderful dealings of God with His beloved
   saints of old, may the prayer of Henry Suso be fulfilled, "Lord, let me
   speak Thy praise, as long as a breath is left in my lips, and when my
   speech is gone, let my finger point to Thee, and end up the praises of
   my earthly life. And when my body is turned to dust, I beseech Thee, O
   Lord, that for each grain of dust, some praise may rise to Thee through
   the hard pavement that lies above; may rise through all the heavens,
   and that Thou mayest be praised through me, till the day when soul and
   body are reunited, to praise Thee again together, and for ever more."
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