said he, "be firm, and maintain intrepidly what thou hast written against the pride, and avarice, and other vices of the churchmen, with arguments drawn from the holy scriptures. Should this task become too severe for thee, should I learn that thou hast fallen into peril, I shall flee immediately to thy assistauce." The ardent christian friend kept his word. When he heard of the perfidious arrestment of Huss, though earnestly dissuaded by the reformer from coming into peril, he hurried to Constance to plead the cause of the prisoner of Jesus Christ. Without applying for a safe conduct, and accompanied only by one friend, he arrived in Constance, then the scene of such perils to the adherents of the truth. Unknown to any, he mingled in the crowds which filled the city, and heard from the common conversation of the passers by, that Huss was just about to be condemned in secret. Jerome was struck with alarm at the danger into which he now saw he had thrown himself, and he fled precipitately from Constance, without attempting to see his friend. Yet his heart soon turned again, with all its former longing to do something, if he could, to rescue Huss from the hands of his persecutors. When he had reached the town of Ueberlingen, in the north-east bank of the lake of Constance, he wrote, applying to the emperor for a safe conduct, but this was refused. The council granted him, in its own name, what he solicited from the emperor; but the document was couched in such ambiguous terms, that it was worth nothing, and Jerome, in sorrow, retraced his steps to Bohemia. The perils, how

ever, from which he had escaped did not increase his caution, and the intolerance of the churchmen, which he saw every where thirsting for the blood of the saints, fired him with new zeal to denounce the deep degradation and ignorance of the priesthood. He hesitated not, in any place to which he came in his sad journey homeward, to call the council the "school of the devil, a synagogue of iniquity." These words of rebuke aroused the fierce anger of the hierarchy, and on the 24th of April 1415, he was arrested and cast into prison at Saltzbach. From this he was sent, a short time afterwards, to Constance, where, as a prisoner, he was brought before a conclave of cardinals, and bishops, and haughty churchmen, in many of whose breasts there rankled a deadly hatred to the faithful Jerome, for the defeats they had suffered in public disputa tion with him, at their respective universities. Here one and another of his formerly humbled antagonists started up in the assembly, reminding him of the alleged errors he had maintained against them; and when he modestly replied to them, "Prove that what I have advanced are errors, and I will abjure them with all my heart;" a murmur arose in the hall, and several voices cried out "To the flames with him, to the flames!" "If it be your pleasure," said Jerome, meekly," that I should die, let the will of the Lord be done."

On that same night the holy man was remanded to a damp and dark prison, where his health greatly suffered from the inhuman treatment to which he was subjected by his persecutors. For six months he pined in chains in that noisome dungeon. Every severity which cruelty could invent was inflicted on him, to induce him to recant. His legs were afflicted with incurable sores, and his strength wasted with hard bondage. In this state was he again taken from his miserable cell, emaciated, enfeebled, and weighed down under troubles which

depressed his soul. He was dragged, thus exhausted in body and mind, before the council, and commanded to abjure the errors of Huss, and declare his acquiescence in the justice of his condemnation, under pain of being burned to death. Human weakness, alas, faultered at the sight of the martyr's stake, and he fell for a time before his enemies. Like our own Cranmer, the spirit of the confessor for a little quailed, and he signed a paper, by which he submitted himself to the council, acquiescing in its unscriptural tenets and its unrighteous acts. Yet his retractation, in this hour of his weakness, was accompanied with such restrictions and explanations, as show how great a mental conflict his giving it cost him. After this tragical scene had been enacted, he was led back to prison, treated with less severity, and the more moderate of the council proposed that he should be set at liberty; but a loud murmur from the more intolerant portion answered this proposal with threats and taunts of alliance with heretics.

All knew

These voices prevailed; and as the men who had felt some remnants of justice and pity, refused to take any part in the commission against Jerome, new commissioners were appointed to demand a yet deeper humiliation from him, or to lead him to death. The reformer perceived at once, in his retirement, that to save himself he would require still much more deeply to wound his conscience in denying the truth of his Lord. Faith in the strength of the Saviour, and indignation at the baseness of his persecutors, happily restored him to the right way. The love of Christ triumphed over the love of life, and he demanded a public audience, at which he might fully explain his sentiments. his eloquence, and were afraid of the effects of his powers of persuasion in address. Yet it was found impossible to refuse what he asked. He was enjoined, however, to confine himself to a simple reply to the questions put to him. "God of goodness," cried the noble confessor, "what injustice, what cruelty! You have held me shut up three hundred and forty days in a frightful prison, in the midst of filth, noisomeness, and the utmost want of every thing. You then bring me out before you, and, lending an ear to my mortal enemies, you refuse to hear me. Notwithstanding my most humble entreaties, I have never, up to this hour, been able to obtain a single opportunity to justify myself, and before you made the slightest attempt to know what I am, you have treated me as an unbeliever. And yet you are men, and not gods. You can fall into error, and be mistaken. If you be really wise men and the lights of the world, take care not to sin against injustice. As to me, I am but a feeble mortal; my life is but of little importance; and when I exhort not to deliver an unjust sentence, I speak less for myself than for you." Having thus by his touching and powerful appeals, constrained his judges to allow him a hearing, he spoke with great boldness the truth of God. At one time he moved the hearts of the assembly by his burning eloquence, at another by his energetic reasonings, and at another by his withering ridicule of the wide spread corruptions of the church. As to his illustrious companion in tribulation, John Huss, who had shortly before sealed his testimony with his blood, he declared openly, in the presence of them all, “I knew him from his childhood. He was an excellent, just, and holy man. He was condemned, notwithstanding his innocence, and has

gone to heaven, from whence he will descend to meet his persecutors at the awful tribunal of Christ. I also am ready to die. I will not recoil before the torments that are prepared for me by my enemies. One day I shall stand at the judgment-seat of God, to give account of all the sins that I have committed against him from my youth, and none of them now cause me such poignant remorse as that which I did in this fatal place, when I approved of the iniquitous sentence pronounced against Wycliff, and the holy martyr John Huss. Yes, I confess it from my heart, and declare it with horror, that I disgracefully quailed when, through the dread of death, I condemned their doctrines. I therefore supplicate Almighty God to pardon me my sins, and this most heinous of them all, according to the promise he has made, saying, 'I will not have the death of the sinner, but rather that he may turn from his wickedness and live.' You condemned Wycliff and Huss, not for having shaken the doctrines of the church, but only because they branded the pomp and pride, and vices of the priests. The things which they affirmed, and which are irresistible, I also think and declare with them."

At this noble and fearless confession the assembly were overpowered with rage, and demanded his death. "Think not," exclaimed Jerome, "that I fear to die. You have confined me for a whole year in a fearful dungeon more horrible than death itself. Yet I make no complaint, for lamentation becomes not a man of heart and spirit. But I cannot otherwise than express my amazement at such barbarity towards a Christian." "His voice all this time," remarks the celebrated Poggio of Florence, 66 was touching, clear, and sonorous, his gestures full of dignity and persuasiveness, whether he expressed indignation or moved his hearers to pity. He stood there in the midst of all with pale features but intrepid mind, despising death, and rather advancing to meet it. Though frequently interrupted by cruel assaults on him, he replied fully to all, and took vengeance on his tormentors by forcing some to blush and others to be silent. At one time he earnestly implored, and at others with dignity claimed speech, freely calling on the assembly to listen to his voice which would soon be hushed for ever."

Impressed with the mighty power of his eloquence, the cardinals and bishops came in great numbers to Jerome after he had been led back to his cell, intreating him to abjure the errors condemned by the council. But the common answer he gave to them all was, "If you convince me from the holy scriptures that these doctrines I maintain are false, I will abjure, till then I cannot." When warned of the consequences of an obstinate refusal to recant, he replied with emphasis, "Do you suppose that life is so precious to me that I fear to give it for the truth, or for Him who gave himself for my sins. Know you not what Christ has said, 'He that giveth not up all he hath for my sake cannot be my disciple. Get you behind me, ye tempters. This body which has suffered such frightful torments in my chains will also know how to support death by fire for Jesus Christ.

Thus finding that nothing could be made of the intrepid reformer by private conference, he was once more brought before the council on the 30th of May. The report spread that Jerome would on that day be condemned, and the whole city was in commotion. Once more he was

called on to recant, but once more he refused, and testified his solemn belief that John Huss had been unjustly condemned. "As to you," he exclaimed, pointing to the council, "you cannot cite a single article in which my doctrine has been proved to be heretical. You are determined that I shall die, because I honour righteous men who have condemned the avarice and pride of the priests. Yet is that a sufficient cause for

my death? Nay, do you not know that before you found any alleged ground of accusation in me, you had resolved that I should die. Courage, therefore, and proceed. But remember that in dying I shall leave a sting in your hearts, and a gnawing worm in your consciences. I now appeal to the righteous tribunal of Jesus Christ, and within an hundred years you shall all answer there for your conduct towards me.”

On this, sentence of death was pronounced against him, and he was handed over to the secular power. In like manner as had been done with Huss, a paper crown, on which was painted demons in flames, was brought to him. Promptly taking it, he placed it on his head, repeating the words of his friend," Jesus Christ who died for me a sinner, wore a crown of thorns, and most willingly I wear this crown of ignominy for his sake." Having arrived at the same spot where John Huss had suffered nearly a year before, he fell on his knees beside the image of that holy man, carved on the stake from which his spirit had taken its flight for the better land. Here Jerome continued in devout and earnest prayer for some minutes, until disturbed by an officer hastening on the last trial. He then repeated the creed, and addressing the people, declared, "This creed which I have just sung is my real confession of faith. I die, therefore, only because I would not consent to the condemnation of John Huss, whom I always beheld to be a true preacher of the gospel." When the wood was heaped around him reaching up to his head, his garments were thrown on it. As the executioner was setting fire to the mass at a place behind the martyr, that he might not be seen by him, Jerome called to him, "Come forward boldly, and apply the fire before me. Had I been afraid to die I had not been here." When the pile had taken fire, he said with a loud voice, "Lord, into thy hands I commit my spirit," and as the flames became intense all around him, he was heard praying with great fervour in the Bohemian language, O Lord, Almighty Father, have pity on me, and pardon my sins, for thou knowest I have always loved thy truth." His voice was soon lost in the noise of the fires. While, however, life continued, his lips were seen to move as if engaged in fervent prayer, but in a little while he fell asleep.

In drawing this very brief sketch of this honoured and bold confessor to a close, there are several not unimportant inquiries and reflec tions which might engage our attention. While speaking of one whose name is closely associated with the dawn of the Reformation, it would be interesting to endeavour to ascertain, to what extent he saw and believed those truths of the gospel whose profession afterwards characterised the reformed church; but the means are very limited by which we could arrive at an accurate conclusion on this subject. Jerome be-longed to that class of disciples who are distinguished for ardour and action rather than contemplation and calm unfolding of truth. With him doctrines were accounted the elements of immediate life more than

as grounds for disputation, so that we know less of him as a man of thought than as a man of activity, in seeking to reform manifest abuses. Yet from the fact that he took such deep delight in the wonderful writings of Wycliff at Oxford, and that he became knit in heart to the person and doctrines of Huss at Prague, it is evident that Jerome, like his more thoughtful leader, was free from the errors of the papacy to a greater extent than he himself was aware. Moreover, throughout his life, and especially in his last confession, he expresses clearly his faith in the great doctrine of justification through the blood of the cross, while in his constant appeal to the holy scriptures as the supreme standard of belief in religion, we hail him as a protestant and a disciple of the truth in his heart.

The circumstances in which this man of God died are too instructive to be passed without a moment's notice. What an illustration have we in his fall of the weakness of man. Jerome has long contended for the faith, he has preached it, he has suffered for it; he has come to Constance in fulfilment of a sacred pledge of friendship, to defend the gospel to the last. This word of truth has been his never-failing consolation in bonds and imprisonment, and he has heard of his dear friend Huss dying in the hope of the gospel, praising God in the fires; yet when he is tried he trembles and falls before the fear of death. Still, reader, learn from the humiliation and sorrow of Jerome, that you cannot but be miserable if you act contrary to your conscience. Better for you to pass through a thousand fires than to feel for once its piercing stings. You may have peace under any earthly adversity, and may lift up your head in joy before any other accusation, but when your conscience becomes your accuser it makes a coward of you, and your heart can never again cease to quake till you go in penitence under the blood of the Lamb of God.

Again, how strong an evidence have we, in the restoration and end of Jerome, of the power of our holy faith. The testimony of death is the most powerful testimony to the truth of our religion. All other grounds of hope give way at the awful appearance of death, but the hope of the gospel, as proved in thousands on thousands of its subjects, is clearest and strongest in the dying hour, when it is most needed. The gospel has had millions of martyrs, testifying in a joyous death their faith in the glorious facts on which its truths are based; among these Jerome of Prague is not the least illustrious. His death in the cause of Christ is the more remarkable that it was previously dreaded and shunned. Twice he seemed to shrink back and flee from the stake. It was not then insensibility to the awfulness of conflict with the king of terrors that urged him on. No; it was the power of that faith which at last he felt. This raised him to triumph over all his fears, and to go boldly to die for the Lord Jesus.

Once more, what a proof is afforded, in the martyrdom of Jerome, of the cruelty and guilt of that church which is drunk with the blood of the saints. It has been justly remarked, that the sanguinary annals of the human race do not perhaps present a spectacle more odious than the funeral pile of Jerome. An assembly of priests cast a man into the flames for having refused to subscribe to the condemnation of his master and friend. They threw the ashes of both into the Rhine, in the

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