he could to avert the doom of his friend. And now it is not in sorrow or regret that his feelings find vent. "Oh, that I were worthy," he writes, "like him to conquer Satan, and to depart this life. Blessed be God, who has granted us, who are so unworthy, this glorious token of His grace." A few weeks after, he publishes what he calls, "A blessed story concerning L. Kaiser, who was burnt in Bavaria for the sake of the gospel," which breathes exactly the spirit of the Ein feste Burg. This brings us to the 1st November, 1527, “the tenth anniversary of the victory over the indulgence-traffic," at which time we have a letter of Luther's, containing almost all the principal expressions of the celebrated hymn, and so seeming to fix its date. But this is not all. It was quite in the same manner that Luther's first and second hymns had been composed. And this leads us still deeper into the inner history of Luther's church-poetry. Soon after his return from the Wartburg in 1522, tidings had reached him of the first martyrs to the restored gospel. Two young Augustinian monks in the Low Countries-Luther calls them "lals"--had refused to recant, and the Professors of Louvain had them publicly burnt in the market-place of Brussels. While consternation seized the mind of Germany, Luther alone was joyous. "Thanks be to God," he wrote, "that He at last begins to show fruit of our, or rather of His, word, and gifts us with new martyrs.' It was on this occasion that he drew up his letter of consolation and admonition to the Christians of Holland and Flanders, and immediately upon it composed his first religious poem (we can scarcely call it a hymn) "about the two martyrs of Christ at Brussels, burnt by the Sophists of Louvain." Not more than a month later, and another public occasion, though of an opposite character, elicited a second epistle and a second religious poem, this time a real hymn of joy and thanksgiving. For the gospel which had been persecuted in the Netherlands was welcomed at the very other extreme of the Fatherland, in Liefland and Esthland, and while he would have "the Christians of Riga and Revel" warned of the trials which would assuredly befall them, he burst into the jubilant hymn commencing, "Now, come, rejoice, dear Christians all, And sing with gladsome mirth." These two hymns, as many of those which followed, were immediately published in the form which we would now call "Tracts," and scattered broadcast over the face of Germany. What extraordinary effect the introduction of German hymns produced, those only can conceive who are acquainted with the state of matters before the Reformation. It would indeed be erroneous to suppose that there were not German hymns before that time, and yet alike the congregational hymn and congregational singing date from the Reformation. Neither the Roman Catholic nor yet the Greek Church has any congregational praise in its services. What of it there exists belongs not to the laity, but is assigned to the clergy and the choir. If the old Roman Catholic saying be true-Cantus in ecclesia latitiam cæli significat (Soug in the church means the joy of heaven)-then assuredly there was little of that celestial joy, at least upon earth. The treasures of the ancient church in the magnificent hymns of Ambrose, Prudentius, and others, some of which were aftewards restored to the people by Luther, were kept from the laity. Yet spiritual life could not be wholly suppressed, and if the people could not sing in the churches, their voice burst forth in the "processions" and on similar occasions, or else found utterance in the retreat of some convents. We do not now refer to the hymns of those secret and persecuted believers who were outside the pale of Rome, like the Bohemian brethren, some of whose hymus likewise Luther introduced into Germany. The learned Wackernagel has arranged the German hymns of that period into those which recognise no other mediator than Christ, of which he reproduces about fifty; those which are idolatrous, addressed either to the saints or the Virgin; and those which are of a mystical character. By far the largest number of hymns are addressed to the Virgin, and often grossly offensive and blasphemous, the profanity going so far as to introduce quite a new worship addressed to St. Anna, the supposed mother of the Virgin, to whom, with application to Is. xi. 1, 2, and Rev. xii. 1, even higher honour was declared due than to Jesus Himself or to His mother, since they had both sprung from her! It was probably with a reference to this that Luther afterwards (about 1534 or 1535) paraphrased Rev. xii. 1 in his "Hymn of the Holy Christian Church." We have said that the diligence of a great scholar has traced to the period before the Reformation fifty Christian hymns in German. But how little they must have been known, or were suitable for general popular use, appears from the fact that the first German hymn-book, dating from the year 1524, contains only eight hymns in all! That was the beginning of the richest hymnology in the world: the Berlin hymn-book of 1842, which is by no means complete, containing no less than 1,564 hymns! That earliest German hymn-book of 1524, however, was not edited by Luther himself, though just one-half of its contents were of Luther's composition. great Reformer himself was at that time engaged upon a wider subject which, indeed, embraced hymnology-that of drawing up an order of divine service in the German language, and his first hymnbook, the musical portion of which belongs chiefly to his friend Walther, dates from the year 1525. Before further referring to this we ought to describe the effects produced on the people by these changes. The Some idea may be conceived of the general interest excited, from the fact that in the years 1524 and 1525, no less than four different printing-presses were sending forth edition upon edition, either in single sheets or in collective form, of these new hymns. In an incredibly short time they became coinmon property. Young and old sang them in public and private, in church and in market; they were, so to speak, in every one's mouth. Thus in Magdeburg in the year 1524 an old man was sitting in the market-place, singing them to the people, and selling the broad sheets, when the burgomaster, on his way from church, saw the crowd, and had the "evil fellow" cast into prison for his heretical singing. But quite two hundred burghers went straight up to the townhouse to intercede for him. Such a deputation could not be resisted; no, nor yet the two little boys who, at the close of a popish sermon in one of the churches at Lübeck, just as the preacher was going to commence his prayers for the dead, rose to strike up one of Luther's noblest Reformation hymns, in which presently the whole congregation joined, -a practice afterwards repeated in that good old town 236 whenever an anti-evangelical sermon was preached, till at last the Council felt it needful to open the pulpit to the gospel ministry. A plan, this, more effectual and far more pleasant than that of the celebrated Janet Geddes for abolishing the mass, not by hurling footstools at the heads of unlucky priests, but by singing them down in gospel praises. To come to even higher effects: it is credibly testified by one who lived close to that time, that many hundreds were converted to the true faith by means of that second earliest hymn of Luther "Now, come, rejoice, dear Christians all." A A Carmelite opponent of the Reformer relates how the cause of Luther had been "marvellously advanced" through these hymns, which, as he says, were sung, not merely in churches and schools, but "in houses and workshops, in markets, streets, and fields." Nay, strangest of all, such was their popularity, that they were even introduced into Roman Catholic churches, and some of them actually appear in a Popish hymn-book printed at Cologne in 1610, "by order of the Prince-Bishop of Spires." After this, we ought to enter into a detailed examination of Luther's hymns and musical compositions. But the subject is far too wide, and all we can hope to do is, in the fewest possible sentences, to sum up our estimate of Luther as a reformer of church-service, a hymn-writer, and a musical composer. It was comparatively a long time before Luther consented to introduce a reformed indeed he placed next to theology. His hymns are The Curtain. HE was walking in the spring-time, in the morning-tide of life, Little recking of the journey-of its peril and its strife; For the flowers were peeping coyly, and the sunshine glistened bright, And the dewdrops lingered quivering like fairy bells of light: Not a cloud was in the heavens; not a surge was on the deep, For the rimpled sea lay breathing in an unimpassioned sleep; And the fresh green leaves were nodding to the whispers of the breeze "Oh! the world must be a paradise, with promises like these! There's no canker in the blossoms, and no blight upon the trees!" Oh! the world is very lovely, and I'm young and very gay, And the sunbeam's wealth of amber light lies broadcast on my way; And the sky is like a sea of blue-the sea, a blue, blue sky; And the foliage quickens vividly, that late was wan and shy; And the skylark trills a melody, midway to purer spheres; And the dewdrops twinkle merrily, as childhood smiles in tears; There's no storm-cloud in the heavens; there's no moaning in the wind Oh! life's road is not a rugged road; its thorns I cannot find, But this darksome curtain mars my view, and I want to peep behind!" But again the picture faded, and another rose to view: Every eye was on the vessel, but her own dim straining sight Only sought on deck one girlish face whose smiling lips were white, She Though she leaned against a stalwart form that held her to his heart; And the maiden wailed, "My sister! oh, my darling! must we part?" And a voice cried, "Bound for India,"-how its echo made her start! had clasped her hands across her eyes, for tears were welling fast; But when next she raised her head, behold! the parting scene was past. It was now a bridal party, with a white-robed virgin troop, And the guests in rich apparel—she the centre of the group, In her snowy dress and veil of lace, her wreath, and jewels bright, With the rubies glowing redly, and the diamonds flashing light; And the stranger-now her bridegroom-at the altar by her side; And the wedding bells were pealing, and the nuptial knot was tied And the maiden murmured blushing, "I should like to be a bride!" She was gazing on a picture of a home from childhood But the pleasant prospect melted, till it vanished like the known, own! rest; On a cluster of familiar forms-one form was like her And anon-she was a mother, with an infant on her breast. In an unknown lofty chamber she was pacing to and fro, And her face was looking upward, but the look was full of And it seemed a festal gathering, like that of New Year's For her grandsire stooped before her with his locks of silver For the baby lay so stilly, in a slumber so profound, grey; And her father, bland and stately, filled his wonted household place, With her gentle loving mother in her comely matron grace; And she saw her dark-eyed sister, like a fairer second selfAnd a golden-headed brother boy, a mischief-loving elf And a taller, elder stripling with a thoughtful student brow: "Twas a knot of friends, both old and young, beneath the holly-bough And the maiden clapped her hands and laughed, "All happy then, as now!" Wh the smile was yet upon her lip the scene dissolved and changed In a garden lustrons with the moon a pair of lovers ranged; They were lovers-for a manly face so earnest and so brave Bent in fondness o'er her mirrored self, grown womanly and grave; Yes, her mirrored self, whose sweet frank look returned the stranger's gaze, As the sunbeam woos the leaf-bud forth, and the bud imbibes its rays: And the maid exclaimed, with arch gay glance, "They're going to confess! There was one, and only one, repose, so very pale and sound; And she saw the mother knew it all, but wished to be beguiled, Though her haunting look of anguish almost drove the maiden wild, As she sobbed, "I will not be a wife! I will not lose my child!" It waxed faint as she was speaking, for no vision lingered long, And another opened on her, midst a romping childish throng: Two bright prattlers at her footstool, and one kneeling by her knee, And one throned upon a cushion, in a chuckling fit of glee; And one tiny chubby cherub nestled dimpling in her lap, While another arm wreathed round her neck, and stirred her widow's cap: Ah! that widow's cap! it told a tale so sorrowful and plain, Round the wan, worn cheek, and shadowed brow with lines of patient pain! But the chubby babe crowed laughing, and the widow smiled again. Oh, they both look rather silly-but all lovers do, I Still, the maiden sighed and pondered, while the vision guess! changed anew. And he really is so handsome that I'm sure I'm saying She was seated by a sick-bed-oh, how aged and grey she yes!" grew! She was watching, she was waiting for the coming hour of doom To the fairest of her household flock, in girlhood's carly bloom, For the fragile form lay nerveless, and the cheek like sunset flushed, And the spirit-eyes were darkening, the loving tones were hushed: Then the maiden questioned, shuddering, "The others, where are they?" And a voice said, "One is worthless, two are wedded far away, One lies sleeping in the ocean, one is still his mother's stay." "Drop the curtain!" now she pleaded, but her pleading was in vain; For another scene was dawning, as the last began to wane: Now, reclining in a grandam's chair, with features shrunk and old, She was pressing to her thin white cheek, a little head of gold; Then there rose in sight, 'mid sombre yews, a shadowy churchyard Where the signal stones loomed spectrally, as though they stood on guard; There, engraven on the sculptured slabs, were names of kith and kin; The vaults had need to be wide and deep for all who slept therein! Not a grave but bore some well-known name; no friend seemed missing here! And the maiden read each record, but she did not shed a tear, As she faltered, "Were there nought beyond the charnelhouse abyss, Then Who would venture on life's journey? who would prize its shallow bliss? Show me something to redeem it from a misery like this!" a flood of light shone round her, and the churchyard scene was hid; And her dazzled eyes ached quivering beneath each drooping lid; But the head of gold, the full bold glance, the pink and But she forced her glauces upward, where a cloud of silvery rounded face, hue They were surely bringing back to mind an earlier baby Framed a band of angel faces; every angel face she knew; And her own was there among them, but so radiant and so fair! race, For oft she sighed, and her furrowed brow was sadly over cast, Unconscious grew the fond caress, and her eyes were filling fast With the dim, far look that mocks at space, and pierces to the past. It was over! life was ended when that changing picture fled; In the next-two mourners sorrowed in the chamber of the dead, But their sorrow was not equal-for he mourned for her who slept; While the fairer weeper mourned for him, and grieved because he wept : For the sleeper was his mother. And the maid with awestruck breath Cried, "How strange for young live self to gaze on self in age and death! But the shrouded form that once was hers, wore such an air of peace, That it seemed as though the soul rejoiced at prospect of release, Had lit again a long-quenched light, at the moment of decease. And she whispered gladly, eagerly, "Oh! are there?" we all-all But a solemn voice said, "Two are lost! the youngest of thy seven; And the student youth, with whose high aims there mixed unholy leaven, And whose genius found the way to fame, but lost the way to heaven!" W CHAPTER XVI.-MY TUTORSHIP. THEN I awoke the following morning the sun was shining sweetly in at my chamber window. It was seven o'clock by my watch, and, remembering that tutors must not be lie-a-beds, I got up. what a lovely prospect did my eyes rest upon! A Raising my window blind when I was dressed, half-circle of richly wooded hills, with a range of higher and more rugged heights behind, swept within a quarter of a mile of this side of the house. The morning mists, with a glory upon them, were ascending from the intervening glens, and as they glided up the lofty hill-sides, folding and unfolding | by-ordinary clever, being fonder, like the generosity themselves in endless evolutions, glimpses of rifts of young folks, of their play than of their books; ploughed by winter torrents, and of lonely grey but they were willing to learn, because I promised, peaks, would suddenly appear, and as suddenly if pleased with their diligence, to be their playvanish. There was a charm and mystory about these fellow when out of doors. Little Missy began her momentary views; and for some minutes my eye alphabet this day, and the little thing took such a eagerly watched for new discoveries. What a plea- fancy to me that there was no getting her to stay in sure it would be climbing these heights, and exthe nursery. ploring all their nooks and recesses, in which specks of snow were still gleaming! A green slope, on which cattle were feeding, separated the hills from the stables, which were partly concealed from the house by luxuriant evergreens. The shrubs were glittering in the sunshine, as if rain had fallen on them during the night and was not yet absorbed. It was the latter end of March; everything had a green, vigorous look; and as I threw up the window and bent out, I saw that a climbing rose-tree on the wall was already in bud. The pure, bracing mountain air, which came sweeping in at the open window, seemed to sweeten my blood and lighten my spirits, strange as I felt in this new scene. I was in the schoolroom by eight o'clock, but no one came near me for half an hour. Then the door was slightly opened, and a child's face peeped in. I smiled, and invited it to enter; but it hastily slipped away. However, in a few minutes the children were brought to me by an elderly nurse. They were well grown, comely children, the eldest about ten; and the little Missy, who was the youngest, only five. They were shy at first, but in less than half an hour we were good friends, Missy seated herself upon my knee, and the boys told me all about their dogs and ponies. I thought it better to get well acquainted with them before I spoke of lessons; besides, I had not yet learned Mr. and Mrs. Gordon's mind anent them. And here I should like to say a word anent the management of bairns. I have ever found it easiest to rule them through their affections, for gaining these is conquering the citadel. I believe more bairns are spoiled by severity than by over-indulgence. Love never really injured any one; want of it, I fear, has stunted and withered many a generous and promising disposition. I have certainly encountered tempers and wills that required a firm hand to control them; but even these, I found, could be subdued by patient, judicious, and steady kindness. I have been often pained to see how children are driven and lectured by both parents and teachers. There is a cry about undutiful sons and daughters in these days; I should like to know what was the early training of such. I have known parents with so little sympathy for childhood as to be incapable of taking a toddling child on their knee to tell it a story; who took no notice of their children's games except to complain of the noise and banish them from the room; and yet because these children obeyed the instincts of their nature and sought that amusement from home which was denied them there, these parents would severely punish and threaten them. What loving memories could such mismanaged creatures have of parents and home in after days? I was over all the policy with the boys in the afternoon, and was introduced to their ponies and other pets. I thought it would be my own fault if I was not comfortable here; the only thing I might occasionally miss would be society, for of course I did not expect that Mr. and Mrs. Gordon would make me their companion. Her frankness had a certain stateliness with it, sufficient to warn me not to presume upon it; and though Mr. Gordon was polite, he had spoken to me with that tone which great men use towards their inferiors. When I was walking with the boys, I saw him at a distance with his dogs and gun; but I had no more communication with him or his lady till dinner. I then experienced the humiliation that my mother had alluded to, for after the cloth was removed I got a plain hint to withdraw. I never needed it to be repeated, though certainly, especially when strangers were present, I felt it mortifying enough. James Willison, the butler, summoned us at nine o'clock to the library, where the family assembled for prayers. It was on the ground-floor, as were all the other public rooms. Mr. and Mrs. Gordon and a young lady were in the room. I was received politely, and felt less nervous than I had expected. Mr. Gordon was a fine figure of a man, but there was something cold and repelling in his air and manner. Mrs. Gordon was a comely lady, plump and short, with a pleasant voice and way. The other lady, whom Mrs. Gordon briefly introduced to me as Miss Tulloch, and who was seated somewhat behind backs, neither spoke nor came forward when her name was mentioned, but made me a slight curtsey. A troop of servants, both male and female, entered the room almost immediately after me, arranging themselves on chairs on either side of the door-and I found I was to be chaplain as well as tutor. The children were with their parents in the drawBreakfast was served in the dining-room, a well-ing-room during the evening, but I was not invited proportioned, lofty room, as were all the chief apartments of the house. Mrs. Gordon readily entered into conversation with me during the meal; but Mr. Gordon either looked at papers or was silent. Miss Tulloch made the tea and coffee; and from that circumstance, and the little, or rather the want of attention of the master and mistress of the house towards her, I conjectured that she was either a lady's companion or a poor relation. I was not much taken with her appearance, and from the coldness of Mrs. Gordon's manner to her I could see already that she was no favourite of that lady's. there. However, I did not miss my tea, the housekeeper sending it to my room. I spent some time in reading, though my thoughts often wandered from my book to my mother in her solitary parlour, and to Jeanie and Alison Carruthers at their seams. I soon grew accustomed to the ways of the family. It was a very regular house, Inveruven, and the servants were obliging and civil. They had a very active and respectable person, Mrs. Anderson, over them as housekeeper. She was of a religious turn of mind, and because I was a preacher of the gospel she respected me for my office, and let me want for nothing; but, indeed, I have been much indebted to female kindness all my life. |