and of the truth, and let us not doubt that God cares for our welfare, even if the world should be destroyed." Now came heavy home affliction on the lonely wife and her much-tried husband. On the 2nd of March the little grand-daughter, whom since her daughter's departure for Konigsberg she had kept constantly with her, sickened of the fever; and a few days after the tidings reached her that God had removed from the world their much-loved and sorely-tried daughter Anna. The letters of Melancthon, after this news had been conveyed to him, reveal a touching picture of paternal love and grief. To a friend he writes : "I loved my daughter with a love deeply implanted in my nature, and this love was intensified by the tender pity I felt for her in the sad state of slavery in which she lived since her marriage. I know too what rare endowments of mind and heart were hers; how can I do otherwise than mourn deeply her untimely death; and the thought of my own sin increases my sorrow, not any fault of hers, but my negligence brought all this trouble upon her. But for ten long years I have every day, with earnest heart supplication, commended her to God, and my trust is that God has called her out of this life to deliver her from sorrow." After the loss of his daughter all the tenderness of his love for her seemed to flow out towards the children she had left. Writing to a friend in Konigsberg, shortly after his daughter's death, he says: "I have already made known to Dr. Sabinus my desire that, if possible, all the children should be sent to us, little Martha especially, who is a delicate child. I greatly wish to bring her up here along with her sister Catharine, where, with God's help, she will be tenderly cared for and trained in the knowledge of His will, and in habits of order and activity. Her sister can already both write and read." Great was his joy when Sabinus, acceding to his wishes, came to Wittenberg, in the autumn of 1547 (the same year in which his wife died), and left behind him, in the house of their grand parents, his three daughters and his infant These children were the comfort and joy of Melancthon in his declining son. years. He always called them his own sweet little daughters. The naive character of the youngest, who was full of wise sayings, seems peculiarly to have attracted him. He called her the "lady doctor," and would often repeat her innocent prattle to his friends. My little daughter says it is a grand thing to be called the lady doctor. He said that he and his little Martha had made a little song, which began thus "Be good, dear little children, So shall you come to heaven." Surely these glimpses into the home life of this great man in these troublous times are singularly touching and beautiful. The loss of her first-born weighed heavily on the tender heart and worn out frame of the mother. She was seized shortly after with a terrible attack of her inward malady, and all means were resorted to in vain to give relief. Then came war, and rumours of war, followed by the battle of Muhlberg, which took place on the 24th of April, 1547, and proved so disastrous an event for the cause of Protestantism. Melancthon was obliged, with his suffering wife and Luther's widow, to take refuge in Nordhausen. He sent the children on before in the care of his son, while he followed with his wife. On the 26th of July he found he could with safety return to Wittenberg, and Catharine followed him there, but soon went back to the children whom she had left in Nordhausen. In September, Dr. Sabinus came and brought all the children back to Wittenberg. Catharine was again too ill to travel, and her husband hastened to her at Nordhausen, and next month she returned home, only partially recovered. Melancthon was not long permitted to remain with her. The displeasure of the Emperor compelled him to seek for refuge at Klosterzelle. Truly for this sorely-tried family there was no place of rest and refuge but in God, but here they found unfailing rest. In one of his letters at this period Melancthon says, "I write this letter on the happy day on which we publicly commemorate the Ascension of the Son of God. I have thought of the sweet words of comfort which are read on this day. But the Son of God is still seated at the right hand of the eternal Father, and bestows gifts upon the children of men; and if we call upon Him He will grant us also gifts, and protect and preserve His Church." On the 2nd of June, 1550, Melancthon's second daughter, Magdalene, was happily married to an excellent man, a Doctor of Medicine, Caspar Peucer, and in the same year his only son, Philip, was united to a widow lady of high character. His son-in-law, Dr. Sabinus, made a second marriage about the same time. The lady was the daughter of Alderman Christopher Cromer, of Konigsberg. All these alliances were very satisfactory to both parents, and Melancthon felt a special delight in hearing from many persons that the second wife of Dr. Sabinus bore a resemblance to his own daughter now in heaven. On the 15th December, 1552, Magdalene Peucer became a happy mother. The birth of the little one took place at Torgau, whither Catharine Melancthon, with all her family, had taken refuge from the plague which had again broken out in Wittenberg. Here, too, about the same time, Luther's widow died, and was buried. She had been a friend to Melancthon's wife, such as Luther had been to himself, and had tenderly sympathized with her in all the joys and sorrows of her married life. In the following year the family who had now returned to their home in Wittenberg suffered a grievous loss, in the death of their faithful servant, John Koch, who for thirty-four years had lived in the family, serving his master and mistress with rare fidelity and ability. He managed the affairs of the household, assisted in the training and instruction of the children, and during the many long absences of the master of the family was an inexpressible comfort and help to the much suffering wife and mother. Melancthon wrote to him regularly during his absences from home, and received long letters in reply. He appears to have been a man of some culture, as well as of rare intelligence and piety, for even on literary subjects Melancthon often consulted him. But now the time had come when this good and faithful servant should be called home to his Heavenly Master. He died on the 3rd of April, 1553. Melancthon announced his death to the university, and paid the following tribute to his virtues: "My servant, John, who was born at Neckar, lived with me, by God's help, thirty-four years. He honoured God by a fervent piety, and in his relations with man he was just, upright, and always ready to oblige. There was nothing unreal or artificial in his character, all was simple and genuine. He was chaste and pure in his own nature, and he loved purity in others. As he was a persevering student of God's word, so the spirit of Christ, the Sun of Righteousness, shone forth in his life and kindled in his soul the steady light of true virtue. He was not only a faithful and affectionate member of my family, he was also a wise adviser, and had a singular power of judging in difficult questions. The peace and unity of the Church was so dear to him, that nothing caused him deeper sorrow than the dissensions of the last five years. This sorrow gradually undermined his strength, and has brought him to his end. He was with us in all our times of exile, in times of war and pestilence; he has witnessed all my life, my labours, and my afflictions, and at all seasons we have ever found him the same. Often has he wisely counselled me, and given me aid by his weighty judgment when I have been in perplexity. He is now, I doubt not, among the number of those of whom it is written, 'Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.' He has passed over into the school of the Son of God, and is among the ranks of the glorified, where his soul most earnestly longed to be, but to me his departure is a sore trial, and touches my soul deeply. But I ask our Lord Jesus Christ for His grace to sustain me, and I entreat you for your sympathy and your prayers." Such a testimony as this is not more honourable and significant for the servant, than it was for the master and mistress in whose service such a man as this had so faithfully spent his life. Since the marriage of her remaining daughter and her son, and the death of her faithful servant, Catharine Melanthon was left much alone, her husband being called away on perpetual journeys and labours. Her son-in-law had removed the children from her, but, to her great joy, he brought back two of them at this time, and their presence proved a perpetual solace to her in great suffering, for now her health became hopelessly broken, and it seemed as if death could not be far distant. Shortly after the death of her servant she was seized with a fever, and for many weeks she lay hopelessly ill. With a trembling hand Melancthon wrote to his friends that his wife was sick unto death. "She wastes away daily (he says). My only consolation is that her mind is left clear and peaceful. She is often in prayer, and repeating passages of scripture." When the fever at last left her, dropsy supervened, and caused her much suffering. Once more, however, she was brought back, as it were, from the gates of death, but it was only that she might be more fully perfected through suffering. She possessed her soul still in patience. The Psalter was an inexhaustible source of comfort to her. Often she was heard repeating those words of the 71st Psalm, "Now also when I am old and greyheaded, O God forsake me not," and assuredly her prayer was heard. God never left her. Friends and children had been removed, her tender and anxious husband was compelled to go away from her, but the friend She that sticketh closer than any brother was with her to the end. Melancthon was called away about six weeks before her death, to attend the religious conference at Worms. His son-in-law, Dr. Peucer, and Paul Eber, accompanied him. He left Wittenberg in great heaviness and sorrow of heart. Not only his wife but his son lay at home dangerously ill. He was little fitted to contend with the fierce spirit of opposing parties. His nature inclined him to peace, and to act the part of a mediator, and since the death of Luther life had been made bitter to him by strifes, which he was unable to reconcile or put an end to. During his absence, he wrote, "I have a great longing after my family, and would far rather be in the midst of my beloved sons and daughters, praying with them, than contending with those here in bitter disputes about words." It seemed as if his heart foreboded what should take place while he was gone. He had left home in the end of August, and on the 27th of September his wife became evidently much worse. felt that her end was approaching, asked to have the sacrament of the Lord's Supper administered to her, and entreated God to grant her patience, as she could no longer rise from her bed. Her prayer was heard. No expression of impatience ever escaped her lips, and all around her saw how perfectly prepared she was to die. She died on the 11th of October, 1557, at three o'clock in the morning, in the sixtieth year of her age, and the thirtyseventh of her married life. At the time of her death Melancthon was at Heidelberg, whither he had been called by the Elector, Otto Henry, in order to assist Micyllus in improving the University. He had passed some happy days there, receiving not only much kindness and honourable attentions from the prince and many learned men, but also having the pleasure of meeting his brother George, to whom he was much attached. The University of Wittenberg commissioned his dear friend, Camerarius, to break the sad tidings to him of the death of his wife. When he arrived he saw that Melancthon was unusually cheerful and happy, and felt all the greater pain as the bearer of such heavy tidings. Next morning, as they walked together in the gardens of the Elector, he executed his mournful commission. Melancthon listened with calmness, and, raising his eyes to heaven, exclaimed, Farewell, I shall soon follow thee." Camerarius had brought him a letter of sympathy from the University. In his reply he tells them that although he was seeking to keep before his mind all the strong grounds of consolation which he had in his sorrow, yet the love he felt for her who had been taken from him, and the thought of his bereaved children and grand-children, now left without her tender care and guidance, came over him with such force that he was well nigh overwhelmed with grief. But in the midst of his sorrow he remembered the words, "Submit yourselves unto God, draw nigh unto Him." And he poured out his whole soul in supplication for the Church and for his family, that the good Shepherd might gather the tender lambs with his arm and carry them in his bosom.: Three years after his wife had been taken from him Melancthon was called to join her, and entered that rest his soul had so longed for. His end, like hers, was perfect peace. He passed from prayer for the struggling Church below, to praise in the glorified Church above. On the afternoon of the day on which he died, his son-in-law asked him if he wanted anything. "Nothing but heaven" was his answer. The last word he spoke was in reply to a friend, who had repeated to him these words of the 71st Psalm, "Into thy hands I commend my spirit, thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth," and asked whether he heard. "Yes," said the dying man, loud enough to be heard by all. More than twenty persons stood gazing upon him as he lay. Without the slightest movement, he gently fell asleep at seven o'clock in the evening, the same hour on which he first saw the light of this world, sixty-three years and sixty-three days before. He lay after death like one who sleeps; his face was not distorted nor his features changed. So the Lord at length gave his beloved sleep. "Servant of God well done, Rest from thy loved employ ; The battle fought, the victory won, "The pains of death are past, Labour and sorrow cease, And life's long warfare closed at last, MARION. CHRIST" HATH ABOLISHED DEATH." "ABOLISHED death!" one may say one may say -how can that be? The old sentence, "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return," has taken effect as mightily and as constantly since the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ as before. It is still appointed unto men once to die. Go to our graveyards, they are the very cities of the dead. There lie the remains of one generation after another, cut down without distinction and without exception by the scythe of death. Come into our families and see the vacant places around our hearths and look on the portraits which are cherished as heirlooms, some of the aged and some of the young, and you will find that death has despoiled us of some of our most loved ones and laid them low in death. The grave hath not yet learnt to say, "It is enough," but cries as insatiably as ever, "Give, give," and yet we are told that Christ "hath abolished death." Well, Paul knew all this. Even when he spoke of Christ havin abolished death, his own death was near at hand and he knew it. He was in a Roman prison. The cruel Nero sat on the throne of the Roman empire-a monster who at the age of twenty-five had murdered his innocent wife and adopted brother, and had dyed his hands in the blood of his own mother-a man in whose eye life had no sacredness, and equity had no sacredness, and from whom Paul expected nothing short of a sentence to die by the hands of the axeman. And yet with this prospect before him Paul could speak of Jesus Christ as having "abolished death." The |