No. 9.-TYNDALE.

There never perhaps was any event in the whole history of the world so remarkable for the results that followed from it as the invention of printing. So memorable was it in all respects, and so largely influential upon all classes of men, that we might not unreasonably divide the entire history of the race into the two periods, the one preceding, and the other succeeding it; and we have often wondered that in the rage for monumental records which has prevailed of late years, and which has been directed not very equally to men who were and men who were not heroes, no suitable monument has been erected to those who were the originators and perfectors of this almost noble art.

In nothing has the importance of the press been so manifest as in the facility it has given for the spread of the Bible. Other works of an elevating and civilizing tendency have indeed been poured forth from it in thousands, and their influence may be traced under every sky and amongst every people of the globe; but the spread of the Bible-that has been the great work which the press has had given it to do: that for which the types were first collected and arranged was that which was in all after time to be their greatest and noblest vocation.

Scarcely had the art become practicable and perfect under the persevering toils of its inventors and pursuers, than it was put into the heart of WILLIAM TYNDALE to use it for the spread of the Bible in English. Already, as we have seen, had the translation been accomplished, and much good had been the result; but the efforts hitherto made-like first efforts alwayshad been very imperfect; and the translations which had been made by Wickliffe and his coadjutors, and which had been circulated in manuscript thus far, were far from suited to the increased demand which the prophetic eye of Tyndale foresaw. At the time the idea first occurred to him, he was a tutor in a family in Little Sodbury, in Gloucestershire,-a man of quiet and -retired habits, a scholar, and devoted to classical pursuits. He was evidently a man of no common stamp: his expansive forehead and large piercing eye were indica

tive even to a stranger of the piercing intellect within: and those who met him at the house of his patron, as well as those who had met him in discussion on theological and ecclesiastical topics at Oxford and Cambridge, knew him as a man of stern independence, and dauntless courage in the cause of God and truth. As the result of this, he seems soon to have become suspected by the supporters of the then prevailing faith; and his discussions with them appear to have led him gradually to the adoption of views which were even to himself at first strange and almost terrible. Very early he appears to have learnt the value and the authority of the word of God. He constantly annoyed his opponents by pointing, in reply to their dogmatic assertions and arguments, to the words of Paul, of Peter, or of the Lord himself; and the truths he learnt from these great Teachers he taught as he had opportunity, in his own village, and in neighbouring towns. In the solitude of his study, however, he was most at home: earnest longings and mighty purposes began there to occupy him: he saw how useless comparatively must be all his efforts so long as the people had not the word of God to read for themselves and slowly he came to the conclusion that it was to be the work of his life to seek to place it in their hands. "If God spare my life," he said one day to an ecclesiastic, with whom he was debating, and who had aroused his anger, 66 ere many years I will cause the boy who driveth the plough to know more of the Scriptures than you do." We can imagine that he had passed many sleepless nights-many probably on his knees before God-before he came to this determination. He knew well the opposition he would have to meet. The power of the Popedom he knew would be exerted against him. But he had learnt to estimate that Popedom at its true value, and this encouraged him to proceed. "Do you not know," had said an old man, to whom he had opened his heart, to him, "that the Pope is the very antichrist whom the Scripture speaketh of?" and Tyndale had believed the old man.

But no sooner had he formed his resolution than he began to make preparations for its fulfilment. He first sought the pa

tronage and aid of Tunstal, bishop of London, by whom, however, he was coldly received. After this he remained in London about a year, kept from starving only by the assistance of a citizen named Humphrey Monmouth, until he was convinced that there was "not only no room in my Lord of London's palace to translate the New Testament, but that there was no place to do it in all England." In the year 1524, therefore, he sailed for Hamburgh, turning his back for ever, for the sake of the work he had undertaken, on his country and his home. "I hunger," he said at this time, "for the word of God. I will translate it whatever they may say or do. God will not suffer me to perish. He never made a mouth but he made food for it, nor a body but he made raiment also."

But now began a course of the most persevering toil, and patient and heroic suffering. It would be impossible here to trace the history of the twelve years Tyndale spent on the Continent. Poor, solitary, and sad, compelled to wander from town to town, and to hide himself, so as to escape the enemies who pursued him, it must have been a weary time indeed, that in which he pursued his silent and unencouraged toil. Wycliffe had his Percy and Lancaster, and Luther had his friend the Elector Frederick, and many other rich and powerful supporters; but Tyndale was all alone. No princely patron ever encouraged him; none of the earth's great ones aided or sustained him in all his long and toilsome labours: how strong must have been the sense of GOD's presence in his soul to prevent his sinking in utter despondency and despair. But night and day he toiled on. Oftentimes sick and feeble, still he laboured: the stars saw him many a time silently working in his dark and poor abode, and the passing stranger wondered why the light burnt so long in his chamber window; still he toiled.

At last he had the satisfaction of seeing the first copies of the New Testament issue from the press. With what joy must he have turned over its leaves, and cast his eye down its pages. Here was the truth which was to elevate and save the land of his birth, the land for which he had so long laboured and suffered. Four years after

wards he had completed the translation of the Pentateuch, and in another year the book of Jonah. All his translations were made from the original Greek and Hebrew. As

soon as his translations were completed the books were issued from the press.

Nor

But what was the reception the works met in England? In 1526, the bishop of London issued a prohibition of Tyndale's Testament. Diligent search was made for copies, and all that could be found were burnt: nay, the bishop finding that he could not lay his hands on all the copies that had entered the kingdom, was so short-sighted as to order them to be purchased, which of course furnished funds for fresh impressions, and led to new importations. were the persecutors content with burning the books alone: they burnt many of those who had ventured to read and distribute them. Even Tyndale himself was pursued with the utmost virulence, both by the emissaries of the Popedom, and by the agents of Henry the Eighth. Very early in his career the Reformer had laid his account with martyrdom; and long before they were successful it was the object of his enemies to get him into their power. At length, through an Englishman who had gained his confidence, he was betrayed into their hands. He was immediately thrown into a dungeon in the castle of Vilvord, where he was kept in confinement nearly two years. There, however, he continued his toils. Amidst the darkness of his dungeon, he still kept on at his old and favourite employment. He was made useful to the keeper of the castle and his family, who were affected much by his pious conversation, and by his christian devotedness. At length, on the 6th of October, 1536, he was led out to die. His last words were, "Lord, open the eyes of the king of England." He was first strangled, and afterwards burnt to ashes; having "entered that region," as Milton would have said of him, "where they, undoubtedly, that by their labours, counsels, and prayers, have been earnest, for the common good of religion and their country, shall receive above the inferior orders of the blessed; and in super-eminence of beatific vision shall clasp inseparable hands with joy and bliss in one measure for ever."

-"His blood was shed

In confirmation of the noblest claim,-
Our claim to feed upon immortal truth,
To walk with God, to be divinely free,
To soar, and to anticipate the skies.
Yet few remember him. He lived unknown
Till persecution dragg'd him into fame,
And chased him up to Heaven. His ashes flew-
No marble tells us whither. With his name

No bard embalms and sanctifies his song;
And history, so warm on meaner themes,
Is cold on this."

But what a theme both for the poet and the historian might be found in the results to which his labours led! What a number of copies of the Scriptures have been circulated since then. Over what a vast extent of the globe has the English Bible been disseminated. You find it everywhere in the cottage homes of Britain, and not unfrequently in the log hut of the emigrant in the farthest wilds of Australia. The sailor boy reads in the quiet evening bour

the copy which his mother gave him, and the soldier, by his watch-fire, when thoughts of home come on him, ponders its revelation of the glorious home above. Our young men and maidens are married under its sanction, and its soul-comforting words sooth the sorrows of the dying all over the world. What would England have been without the Bible? What would you have been without it, reader? As you ponder its sacred pages, and learn its lessons, and imbibe its spirit, and are comforted by its truths, do not forget to drop a tear sometimes, and think of WILLIAM TYNDALE !*

A MODEL CHURCH. The church in is a model church. It differs strikingly, in several respects, from most churches, On the Sabbath every member who is not necessarily preThere are vented, is present in season.

none loitering around the doors and talking of the weather, politics, &c., as if even the few hours given to public worship were given grudgingly. When the pastor enters the pulpit, the countenances of his brethren tell that they are silently asking for him the aid of the Holy Spirit. As the services proceed, there is close attention, and earnest and devout interest. At the close there is no discussion of secular subjects, nor is the conversation about the application of the sermon to this or that neighbour, but whatever is said tends either to deepen the impression produced by the services of the day, or to manifest heartfelt interest in each other's welfare.

At prayer-meetings the pastor is cheered by seeing nearly every one at his post. And they come, not as if driven by a sense of duty, but as if expecting to enjoy a high and sacred privilege. The prayers are short and fervent, equally removed from cold formality and presumptuous familiarity. This church does not have one sort of religion for the Sabbath, and another for the week day. Every day is consecrated to God. But this does not give any sternness or austerity to their aspect or manners.

The relation between this church and

their pastor is a happy one. The assu

rance which he has of an interest in their prayers, his confidence in their affection, and his reliance upon their discretion and fidelity, are constant sources of consolation to him. He finds many Aarons and Hurs among them, but not one Diotrephes. Though it is no trifling matter to provide spiritual food for a church so thoroughly acquainted with the Bible, and so rapidly growing in grace, yet he knows they will come, not to criticise, but to derive benefit; and this thought encourages his heart, while it also keeps him near the throne of grace. He seldom feels any anxiety about his temporal affairs; for his brethren understand 1 Cor. ix. 14, and act accordingly. They are careful too of his reputation, knowing that his influence as a minister of Christ, depends very much on his "having a good report of them that are without." When they think that he errs, they do not circulate evil reports respecting him, but they tell him their thoughts kindly and re

spectfully, and the result is an increase of affection on both sides. Hence every minister who has laboured among them, has appeared visibly to grow in grace during his connection with the church. Hence, too, they have never had occasion to dismiss a pastor, and every pastor that they have had has chosen to remain with them till called away by his Master.

There

The members of this church are very conscientious. They never treat sin as a light matter. In their acts as a church, and in their intercourse with each other and with the world, they are very careful not to do anything that can bring reproach on the cause of their Redeemer. has never been a lawsuit among them. They love each other too well to engage in litigation. And each member has such confidence in his brethren, that there is no occasion for it. They look upon their brethren as the most equitable court, and on the Bible as the best law-book for settling differences on christian principles. In their business transactions they are exact, and careful to have everything understood beforehand; but if in any case there is a difference of opinion as to any such transaction, they prefer to yield a little of their supposed rights, rather than dishonour religion by even appearing to take any undue advantage, or to "stand up" too violently "for their rights." Indeed the maxim, "Stand up for your rights," is by no means so much in vogue with them as these, "Charity suffereth long and is kind;" "Abstain from all appearance of evil." Consequently in this church there are none of those cases of hard bargains, and crafty management, and worldly policy, which destroy so much of the moral power of some other churches. Hence, even in the view of irreligious men, the word of a member of this church "is as good as his bond." Hence, too, the influence of this church over the world around them is remarkable. Not only does the spirit of peace, and kindness, and rectitude, which reigns among them, diffuse itself in some degree through the community, but every year large accessions are made to their numbers from the world. "Their light cannot be hid." And God blesses their labours with a constant revival.

This church is a very active church. In all the benevolent operations of the day they take a deep interest. Though no church has less occasion for the visits of

agents from benevolent societies, yet in none are such agents more cordially welas comed. They are systematic in their benevolent operations, and yet they always have something ready for special calls. The reason is that they consider their property as the Lord's, and only wait for his direction to determine how to dispose of it. Nor does their activity terminate in works of this kind. In succouring the afflicted, in promoting the welfare of their neighbours, in labouring for the public good under the guidance of an enlightened public spirit, they are among the first to Thus the community in which this church is situated, is an uncommonly happy

move.

one.

There is not a talebearer in the whole church. Indeed they look with abhorrence upon a disposition to spread abroad and magnify the faults of others. Even when duty requires them to speak of such faults, it is done with manifest regret, and with a disposition to make every suitable allowance. If any one of the brethren is believed to have done wrong, the course directed by the Saviour is taken, and such is the spirit of kindness manifested through out, that the first step is generally sufficient. At social visits scarcely anything would excite more surprise than for one person to talk about the faults of another, and even in the sewing society such an attempt has never yet been made.

Let it not be supposed, however, that the spirit of kindness which pervades this church prevents them from "setting their faces as a flint" against iniquity of every kind. Should any one come among them, expecting to be shielded by their kindness, while pursuing a course of wilful transgression, he would soon find out his mistake. Still they would take no delight in blazoning his faults. They would try faithfully to "win him from the error of his ways," but should such efforts prove unavailing, it would in due time be shown that christian kindness and christian decision are not antagonistic qualities.

Notwithstanding all these excellencies, the members of this church never speak highly of their own attainments. Their views of the standard of christian character set in the gospel are so exalted, that they feel deeply humbled for falling so far below that standard. They are "clothed with humility."

Reader, do you know where this church

THE PRAYING COLLIER.

AN OLD STORY OF GOD'S PROVIDENCE. Dr. Joseph Stennett resided in Wales several years, and preached to a congregation in Abergavenny. There was a poor man, a regular attendant on his ministry, who was generally known by the name of Caleb; he was a collier, and lived among the hills, between Abergavenny and Hereford; had a wife and several small children, and walked seven or eight miles every Sunday to hear the doctor. He was a very pious man; his knowledge and understanding were remarkable, considering his situation and circumstances. Bad weather seldom hindered Caleb's attendance at the house of God; but there was a severe frost one winter, which lasted many weeks, and blocked up his way, so that he could not possibly pass without danger, neither could he work for the support of his family. The doctor and others were concerned lest they should perish for want; however, no sooner was the frost broken than Caleb appeared again. Dr. Stennett spied him, and as soon as the service was ended, went to him and said, "Oh, Caleb, how glad I am to see you. How have you done during the severity of the weather ?"

Caleb cheerfully answered, "Never better in all my life. I not only had necessaries, but lived upon dainties the whole of the time, and have some still remaining."

. Caleb then told the doctor, that one night, soon after the commencement of the frost, they had eaten up all their stock, and had not one morsel left for the morning, nor any human possibility of getting any; but he found his mind quite composed, relying on a provident God, who wanted neither power nor means to supply his wants. He went to prayer with his family, and then to rest, and slept soundly till morning. Before he was up, he heard a knock at his door; he went and saw a man standing with a horse loaded, who asked if his name was Caleb. He answered in the affirmative; the man desired him to help him to take down the load. Caleb asked what it was. He said, Provision. On his enquiring who sent it, the man said he believed God had sent it; no other answer could be obtained. When he came to examine the contents, he was struck with amazement at

the quantity and variety of the articles, bread, flour, oatmeal, butter, cheese, salt meat and fresh, &c., which served them through the frost, and left some remaining to that present time.

The doctor was affected with the account, and afterwards mentioned it in hope of finding out the benevolent donor, but in vain; till about two years afterward he went to visit Dr. Talbot, a noted physician in the city of Hereford. This Dr. Talbot was a man of good moral character, and generous disposition, but an infidel in prin. ciple. His wife was a pious woman, and a member of the church. Dr. Stennett used to go and visit her now and then; and Dr. Talbot, though a man of no religion himself, always received Dr. Stennett with great politeness. As they were conversing pleasantly one evening, Dr. Stennett thought it his duty to introduce something that was entertaining and profitable. He spoke of the great efficacy of prayer, and instanced the circumstance of poor Caleb. Dr. Talbot smiled and said,

"Caleb, I shall never forget him as long as I live."

"What, did you know him?" said Dr. Stennet.

"1 had but a very little knowledge of him," said Dr. Talbot, "but I know he must be the same man you mean."

Then Dr. Talbot related the following circumstances. He said, "The summer before the hard winter above-mentioned, he was riding on horseback, as was his usual custom when he had a leisure hour, and generally chose to ride among the hills, it being more pleasant and rural. As he was riding along, he observed a number of people assembled in a barn; he rode up to the door to learn the cause, when he found, to his surprise, that there was a man preaching to a vast number of people. He stopped and observed that they were very attentive to what the preacher delivered. One poor man in particular attracted his notice, who had a little bible in his hand, turning to every passage of Scripture the minister quoted. He wondered to see how ready a man of his appearance was in turning to the places. When the service was over, he walked his horse gently along, and the poor man whom he so particularly noticed, happened to walk by his side.

"The doctor asked him many questions concerning the meeting and minister, and found him very intelligent. He enquired