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same university, and was preparing to do for the Old Testament what Erasmus was doing for the New. The art of printing came just in time for the publication of the Bible,—a proof that God was managing the forces of truth for a great reformation. Whatever the Sorbonne might think, religion was not to be ruined by the study of the sacred languages. It was to be revived and raised from the dead by the voice of Christ; borne to the hearts of men by the word of God.

William Farel, leaving home for the capital city, was going forth upon a wide, wild sea of opinions; but he was to be guided to the true landing-place, not by the university, as a public lighthouse, with its brightening lamp of literature, but by the private torch of a man, walking, in meditative mood, along the shore. This man was seeking for the pearl of great price; and, because of the deep moral darkness, he held his trembling light so carefully, that it could not fail to catch the watchful eye of the young student from the mountains of Dauphiny.

Among the learned men of the university, was one of very small stature, mean appearance, humble origin, and poor advantages in life. His name was James Lefevre, and he was born about 1445, at Etaples, a village of Picardy, the country of Calvin. His early education would have been rude and scanty, had he not depended upon his genius rather than upon his masters. He struggled up into knowledge, like one clambering a mountain to see the sun gilding the peaks of an Alpine range; and hence his nobleness of soul drew admiration from his friends, who cherished hopes of his greatness. He travelled abroad, even into Asia and Africa; became a doctor of divinity; and in 1493 a professor of the University of Paris, where Erasmus put him in the first

rank of scholars. His intellect, learning, and eloquence had a wonderful attraction for all who heard him.

He soon saw work enough to be done, and earnestly assumed the task. He must reform the evil practices of the Romish Church; for he loved the church of his birth too well to see it in error. He must attack 'the barbarism then prevailing in the university,' and join in reviving the study of languages and learned antiquity. The classics must not crowd out the Bible. Philosophy must give way to religion. Therefore he began at the only point where a reformation can properly begin. He went to the heart of the Bible, so that it might go to the heart of man.

No man was more captivating in his artless, earnest, and familiar ways of teaching. Serious in the pulpit, he was genial with his students. He loves me exceedingly,' wrote one of them to his friend Zwingle. Full of candour and kindness, he often sings, prays, disputes, and laughs at the follies of the world with me.' Thus he drew a great number of disciples, from almost every country, to sit at his feet. They saw that he passed quite as much time in the churches as in his study, and were likely to imitate his devotion. Because the Church was in error, he did not abandon it; for if the ship was in a storm, and the officers drunk, there was all the better reason for every sailor to be at the post of duty and of danger. He regarded himself as a child in the Church, rather than a doctor over it; and, because willing to search, he was certain to find the truth which would

save.

Lefevre was a reformer before the Reformation. He protested against error before there was any system of Protestantism. Five years must yet pass before Luther

would nail his theses to the door of the old church in Wittemberg. Luther had but just found the chained Bible in the convent of Erfurth, and had not heard the good Staupitz say, 'If thou wouldst be really converted, follow not these mortifications and penances. Love Him who first loved you. God is not against thee, but thou art averse to God. Remember that Christ came hither for the pardon of sins. Cast thyself into the arms of the Redeemer. Trust in Him, in the righteousness of His life, in the expiatory sacrifice of His death.' Could Lefevre have heard such words, he would have found much sooner the treasure which he sought on the shores of truth.

In the year 1510, Luther was on his way to Rome, to witness its abominations, and William Farel was on the way to Paris to study in the university, and to find in Lefevre a friend among strangers, a guide to the truth, and a father in Christ; for, by the private light of this man, the young provincial was to make sure his landing upon the Eternal Rock of salvation.

On the walls of most Romish churches are hung pictures of different scenes in the sufferings and death of our Lord. The worshippers begin at the first, and pass around to the last, kneeling before each one, and repeating the words of their penance or prayers. These kneeling-places are called stations on the way of the To make the circuit is a pilgrimage.

cross.

William Farel had not come to Paris to stroll through the streets, nor to lock himself up in his room, and pore night and day over his books. He was a close student; but he did not neglect his religious devotions. He took time for a regular attendance at church, and made it a matter of conscience to visit the stations along the way of the cross. What a privilege to the young villager to

kneel before better pictures than he had seen at home, and confess to a more accomplished priest !

One day, when on his pious pilgrimage, he saw an aged man going the rounds, all absorbed in his devotions. He prostrated himself at the stations, and lingered, repeating his prayers. He seemed the model of fervour and contrition; as the tears fell, the lips quivered, and the voice rose full and clear in the responses of the public service. There was much in his manner to charm the young stranger; and he could not forget the earnestness of the good old man, saying of him, years afterwards, 'Never had I seen a chanter of the mass sing it with greater reverence.' This little, unpretending, aged man, of the tearful eye and kind face, was the eloquent, popular, and beloved Lefevre. To become acquainted with him was now the student's most ardent wish, and without it he could not be happy.

How they met, we know not; but Farel 'could not restrain his joy, when he found himself kindly received by this celebrated man.' It seemed as if he had gained his object in coming to the capital. From that time his greatest pleasure was to converse with the doctor of Etaples, to listen to him, to hear his admirable lessons, and to kneel with him devoutly before the same shrines. Often might the aged Lefevre and his young disciple be seen adorning an image of the Virgin with flowers; and alone, far from all Paris, far from its scholars and its doctors, they murmured in concert the fervent prayers they offered up to Mary.' The teacher, warring against certain errors, still held to some of the most absurd; and the student, who had refused to take the sword, still clung to the rosary.

Farel was sincere. He thought that he was right. He

was not hoping for a rich benefice, nor preparing to fleece some flock over which he might be placed, nor dreaming of the vicious life then led by so many of the priests. A soul like his was above loving Popery for money, or for power, or for indulgence in sin. In his view the Pope sat on a throne of God, and ruled in the place of Christ. To obey and worship him as Christ was a part of salvation. If any one said aught that was ill of the holy Pontiff,' he would gnash his teeth like a furious wolf,' and was ready to call down the lightnings of heaven 'to overwhelm the guilty wretch with utter ruin and confusion.'

'What do you believe?' we presume to be asked of him, by some student who has caught up certain sarcastic remarks of Erasmus about the follies of Romanism. 'Do you really believe that a wafer is converted into the very body of Christ ?'

'I believe,' said Farel, in the cross, in pilgrimages, images, vows, and relics. What the priest holds in his hands, puts into the box, and then shuts it up, eats, and gives others to eat, is my only true God; and to me there is no other, either in heaven or upon earth.'

Still he was not satisfied. His spirit hungered, his soul found no rest. Everything was going from bad to worse. The study of the profane authors brought him not one crumb of the bread from heaven; in the rites of the Church there was not one drop of the water of life to quench his thirst. Lefevre scarcely dared tell him the little truth that he was leaning upon; for he was not quite sure of it himself, and no lame man likes to give away his staff. The student went, restless and wretched, to several doctors of the age; but they only sent him away more wretched than before. He told them that he wanted to be a real Christian, and they gave him Aristotle as a

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