"Since God has saved us, let us so order our works that he may take
pleasure therein. Art thou rich? Let thy goods be serviceable to the
poor. Art thou poor? Let thy services be of use to the rich. If thy
labours are useless to all but thyself, the services thou pretendest to
render to God are a mere lie."
Christopher left Dr. Luther at Erfurt. He said many tried to persuade
the doctor not to venture to Worms; others reminded him of John Huss,
burned in spite of the safe-conduct. And as he went, in some places the
papal excommunication was affixed on the walls before his eyes; but he
said, "If I perish, the truth will not."
And nothing moved him from his purpose. Christopher was most deeply
touched with that sermon. He said the text, "_Peace be unto you; and
when he had so said Jesus showed unto them his hands and his side_,"
rang through his heart all the way home to Wittemberg, through the
forests and the plain. The pathos of the clear true voice we may never
hear again writes them on his heart; and more than that. I trust the
deeper pathos of the voice which uttered the cry of agony once on the
cross for us,--the agony which won the peace.
Yes; when Dr. Luther speaks he makes us feel we have to do with persons,
not with things,--with the devil who hates us, with God who loves us,
with the Saviour who died for us. It is not holiness only and
justification, or sin and condemnation. It is we sinning and condemned,
Christ suffering for us, and God justifying and loving us. It is all I
and thou. He brings us face to face with God, not merely sitting serene
on a distant imperial throne, frowning in terrible majesty, or even
smiling in gracious pity, but coming down to us close, seeking us, and
caring, caring unutterably much, that we, even we, should be saved.
I never knew, until Dr. Luther drove out of Wittemberg, and the car with
the cloth curtains to protect him from the weather, which the town had
provided, passed out of sight, and I saw the tears gently flowing down
my mother's face, how much she loved and honoured him.
She seems almost as anxious about him as about Fritz; and she did not
reprove me that night when she came in and found me weeping by my bed.
She only drew me to her and smoothed down my hair, and said, "Poor
little Thekla! God will teach us both how to have none other gods but
himself. He will do it very tenderly; but neither thy mother nor thy
Saviour can teach thee this lesson without many a bitter tear."