VOL VIL

II. SONG OF THE CHILDREN.

Then let us all right joyous be,
And with the shepherds go and see;
Let us behold the Son most dear,
Whom God hath sent, who now is here.

Behold, my soul, and look thereat!
What lies there in the manger, what?
Who is the child so dear and fair?
It is dear Jesus lying there.

Be welcome, welcome, honored guest,
However poor, in thee I'm blest ;
Thou comest wanting down to me,
What shall I offer, Lord, to thee?

Ah, Lord, by whom all things were made,
Thou hast aside thy glory laid,

And on poor hay thou liest there,

Of which the toiling cattle share.

And though the world were twice as great,
And full of gold and pomp and state,

E'en then too narrow would it be

To make a cradle, Lord, for thee.

Instead of silk and velvet gay

Thou hast coarse swaddling-clothes and hay,
And there, thou King so great and wise,

Dost lie as if in paradise.

And this was pleasing all to thee,
To point the truth out unto me,
That all the world, its honor, might,
Must count for nothing in thy sight.
Ah Lord, my love and my delight;
Make thee a bed all pure and white,
And dwell and be enshrined, in me,
That I may aye remember thee;

That I may ever joyful be,
And leap, and sing, forever free :

Sleep, little child, this lullaby

Sings all my heart that thou art nigh:

Praise, honor, glory be to God

Who unto us his Son bestowed,

Him all the angels praise and sing,
And to us now a new year bring.

18

It is not strange that Luther has never found outside of Germany that appreciation which his countrymen have for him. He is one of them in a stronger sense than Shakespeare was an Englishman. Luther wrote pamphlets for his countrymen, and for these writings there is no universal demand, save with such rare scholars and students as would approach Lord Bacon, Augustine, and Aristotle. The perennial magic of Luther's name in Germany is less due to his theology than to the marvelous and heroic proportions which religion gave to his German mind, heart, and aspirations. It is not an accident that the language of the German people is full of expressions, puns, and witticisms coined by Luther; for he created the literary language of his country, and he could do it, because he lived, felt, and spoke like a true-hearted German. Next to his relig ious character, then, it is his German way of thinking with the heart that reveals the nature of Martin Luther. Had he not been a German, he would not have called himself Doctor through life, and on all occasions. Few people, except the Germans, would ransack all scholarship and history in order to find arguments for the dogmatic assumption with which Luther started, and to which he clung tenaciously. Like so many eminent Germans, Luther was somewhat imaginative in his conclusions, dogmatic in his assumptions, and not always orig. inal in his fundamental ideas. In one respect he resembles Alexander Humboldt, who never published a line which the world would wish to perish. But a more perfect parallel may be drawn between Shakespeare, the poet, and Luther, the German prose writer. As a religious character, Luther is unique for his want of secular prudence and executive skill, for his self-concentration upon purely religious interests and for a certain neglect of ethics. For to him the acceptance of God's revelation in Christ outweighed all matters of secular conduct. It is not strange, therefore that the Lutherans of the present time are lacking in organization, and that they exalt their pure doctrines above morality. Neither is it strange that they glory in the name of Luther, a name which will probably be uttered with increasing joy, when a century from now the Protestant world celebrates the five hundredth anniversary of Luther's birth.

ARTICLE IX.-CATHARINE ADORNA.

THERE is a strong desire on the part of many professing Christians for higher attainments in holiness. The standard to which the majority of Christians aspire is felt to be below that which the New Testament sets forth. It is felt to be not enough to have a comfortable hope that one is renewed of God, and is numbered among the true friends of Christ. Something higher, more sure, and therefore more satisfactory, is sought.

It is indeed known and felt to be a privilege to cherish a comfortable hope, even a feeble hope, of acceptance with God. The soul has gone to the fountain that Christ has opened. The taste of those living waters is sweet and reviving. In the weariness of the way, the toil and trial of travel, that fountain offers coolness and refreshment; and the pilgrim, who came to it dusty and way-worn, departs with renewed energy and joy. But he is not satisfied with the taste. He wants the fountain within him, welling up into continual nourishment and life. He must have something more than a timid, uncertain, wavering hope. He wants assurance of faith, a joyful, confident trust in the Redeemer, in which the soul can abide peacefully, through the events of a turbulent life, and the last conflict, and the entrance upon the realities of the future.

Christians of this type desire to "walk with God," to enjoy His recognized presence, to live daily as seeing Him who is invisible. They open their Bibles, and they find many expressions there applied to believers which have never been realized in their experience, but which they would like to have so realized. They do not yet know what it means to live by faith. They know that their only hope is in the Redeemer, that they trust Him for their salvation; that they have gratitude, deep, heartfelt, for that. But the principle of faith, rather faith itself, is not with them a controlling, animating reality. The whole spirit and life are not permeated and transformed and transfigured by it. There is something in such a passage as this: "For ye died, and your life is hid with Christ in God:"

which is beyond them. They have not reached its fullness. They are not yet dead to the pulsations of sin and of the world. They are conscious that they walk by sight, and so that their life is not hidden in God. They would have rest, some repose of soul that shall be satisfactory, above the region of mists and tempests, in the calm and light of assured faith.

As far as we have observed, this desire belongs to intelligent and thoughtful Christians, not to those who are preeminently So, but are so in fact. It is often the issue of severe trial, under which the soul has lost, in some measure, its relish for the world, and has come to feel that the only good is in God; or it is the ripened fruit of a prolonged Christian experience and the study of God's word; or, sometimes, it is the consequence of a new consecration to Christ after a period of great worldliness, or a serious violation of solemn vows. Whatever the cause, the desire is one of deep and permanent power. We have known of those who have sought for years, with intense interest, for a personal solution of this subject in their own experience, but have failed to reach the fullness of peace which they had hoped to gain.

However we may theorize about it, the aspiration is one of great practical importance, and one that challenges attention and study. No doubt there are times when it is felt, to a greater or less degree, in the history of every true Christian. There are conjunctures of experience when the believer is peculiarly wrought upon for his sanctification. There are blessed seasons, when hopes cherished through wintry months are ready to burst into beautiful blossoming, and when the fruits of laborious culture can be gathered in glad and abundant harvests. There is a spiritual perihelion when the soul is brought near to the central sun, the source of all its light and growth, and is drawn with divine attraction and power into the kingdom of grace. There are periods when the soul is powerfully summoned to new and greater devotion to God, and to an unwavering faith in Him; when upon all around us we see the titles of vexation and vanity, and feel that God alone is our unchanging and satisfactory portion. There are propitious junctures of mercy, when prayers, long offered in faith, are to meet with blessed answerings; when the longings of burdened hearts are

to be realized; when divine truth, which has been apparently "as water spilt upon the ground which cannot be gathered up again," is to be made savingly effective; when the world, as the supreme good, is to be utterly renounced, and God is to receive. an unalterable trust.

It is not enough, at such seasons, to exhort the Christian to labor for Christ. That he longs to do; that he does. He is glad to serve one so worthy as he then realizes his Saviour to be. But in his work he desires an inward experience which. cannot come from external activity. He desires to labor with the right emotions, not for them.

The prevalence of these feelings has caused a demand for certain writings, and has given favor to the views of certain "schools," which set forth a peculiar doctrine of holiness, which has met, correctly or otherwise, a want in many Christian

hearts.

The "Life of Madame Catharine Adorna," by the late Professor Upham, is a little book which has been extensively read by the class of Christians here alluded to. It is a pleasant and popular study, and contains much cheering utterance for one who is inquiring for the "way of holiness." Its complete title is: "Life of Madame Catharine Adorna. Including some leading facts and traits in her religious experience, together with explanations and remarks, tending to illustrate the doctrine of Holiness."

The life of Madame Adorna, and the facts and traits in her experience, however, are not the substance of the book. It is the book of the writer. He speaks in it, and Madame Adorna and the facts of her life, are illustrations of the truth which he would enforce. But this is a pleasant feature of the little work, and shows the philosophy of the author. We prefer to hear the utterance of one who lives in our conditions, and who has an understanding of our times and our environment, rather than to listen to the voice of one who belonged to a different or a distant age, especially if the matter concerns present practical experience. While the Life which illustrates the truth may as well be the charmed life of a saint of the fifteenth as of the nineteenth century.