was long and bloody-the longest and bloodiest known to modern history. It was a Thirty Years' War. When peace was restored in 1648, it found the land waste. Three-fourths of the people had been devoured by the Sword, and its two daughters, Famine and Pestilence. And, after all, it was a drawn battle. Protestantism received permission to exist where it had established itself; but persecution might go on as before among the subjects of Popish princes. Protestant Germany possessed within its own bosom no royal house around which it might rally. This fatal lack was supplied half a century later, when the Prussian monarchy arose in the hands of Frederick-William and his son Frederick the Great. These able princes made it their aim to establish in Germany a Protestant government which should act as a counterpoise to the imperial house, and which might one day thrust down that house from its abused supremacy, and rally round itself the princes and people of all Germany. This has been the vocation and meaning of the Prussian monarchy from the first-to be a first-class Protestant power in the bosom of the German nation, round which the whole nation might in due time be gathered willingly into one political system, as of old. This object-which was surely an honourable one, and not to be confounded with the vulgar ambition which impels to foreign conquest-has never been lost sight of by the house of Brandenburg. The policy of all the princes of that house-from the great Elector who laid the foundations of the monarchy to the present King of Prussia has been to stand forth as the defenders of the Protestant faith all over Europe, and particularly in Germany. In every instance in which Protestants have been subjected to persecution whether in the Popish States of Germany, or in France, or Italy, or Spain-the Prussian kings have interceded for them, and when intercessions were ineffectual, have offered them a hospitable asylum in the Prussian territories. The consequence is that the North-German population of the present day includes myriads of the descendants of men who were the salt of the earth, and who chose rather to part with their native country than to part with Christ-refugees from France, from Bohemia, as well as from Salzburg and the

other scenes of persecution in Southern Germany; and every Protestant community in Central Europe has been taught for generations to look to Prussia as its natural protector.

It would be tedious to trace the successive stages in the conflict for supremacy in Germany, which virtually reached its termination four years ago. The mind of the Nation had long been made up on the necessity of restoring the political unity of the Fatherland, which the Papal policy of the sixteenth century broke up; and the only question that remained to be settled was, whether the nation should rally round the house of Hapsburg or the house of Brandenburg. "Austrian supremacy or Prussian? Shall we go back to our old emperors, and, casting to the winds the memory of Luther and the faith he preached to us, shall we offer our allegiance to a house that will prostitute the influence of the nation to the interest of the Papacy and of darkness ?-or shall we cast in our lot with the Northern monarchy and the Protestant interest?" The former was well known to be the choice of the Popish priesthood, the Ultramontane party, and the majority of the princes; the latter was understood to be the choice of the great body of the nation. The campaign of 1866 decided the question; and its decision is not likely to be ever reversed. For obvious reasons, neither party, in entering upon the war, stated the question in this explicit fashion. But the Austrian Emperor, in the solemn and affecting manifesto which he published before the campaign opened, distinctly indicated that the religious interest of the quarrel was predominant in his mind. He cast himself on the favour of the Most High, and pleaded the service which his royal progenitors had ever striven to render to Him. striven to render to Him. It was an ominous reminiscence; for the form in which the Austrian house for long centuries had thought to do God service was the wearing out the saints of the Most High. Both sides appealed to the God of battles, and He answered them on the field of Sadowa. It would be unbecoming to exult over fallen greatness; but we may humbly bless the name of the Lord that He was pleased to strike to the ground the hoary oppressor of His Church, and give the victory to the Protestant host.

The results of the campaign of 1866 have

already been immense. Germany is being rapidly reunited into one State under the most decidedly Protestant dynasty in Europe. The Hapsburgs, expelled from Germany, have been obliged to come to terms with Hungary; and as in Hungary the Protestants are numerous and the Roman Catholics are generally anti-papal in their views, the government has been obliged to tear the concordat in pieces and break its old alliance with the Papacy. Italy, having finally got rid of the Austrian yoke, is consolidating its unity in a strongly anti-papal spirit. And now, at length, Spain itself has cast off the domination of the Papacy. Thus all over Europe, and especially in the very countries in which the Romish domination seemed most firmly established, the political power of the Papacy has been utterly demolished by the hammer of God's providence. The old system is gone, and the Pope has been fain to gather his counsellors about him to consider what should be set up in its stead.

That we have not been attaching too much importance to the recent changes in the European system, and that we are not mistaken in thinking that it was the sense of dire necessity consequent upon them that led the Pope to take the unwonted step of summoning a General Council, will not (it is believed) be denied by any who have paid close attention to the course of Continental affairs during the last half-dozen years. The very aspect of the Council must remind the Pope of his altered position in Europe. In former Councils, the princes and their ambassadors were present at the sittings, and in many ways participated in the deliberations and decisions. In the Council of the Vatican not a single government is represented; not a single prince is present either in person or by deputy. This diminution of importance may not have been much commented upon by the Pope and the hierarchy. One can understand how they should have thought it best to hold their peace. But in some quarters the pain has been too acute for silence to be possible. Hence the frantic cries of Archbishop Manning, who, as an Ultramontanist of the extremest type, must have felt with peculiar keenness the wounds of his master. No Protestant has expressed so strongly the greatness of the change which has come over the political relations of the Papacy.

"What government at this day professes to be Catholic?.... What country has not, by royal edicts, or legislative enactments, or revolutionary changes, abolished the legal status of the Catholic Church within its territory? As governments and nations, they have by their own act withdrawn themselves from the unity of the Church. As moral or legal persons, they are Catholic no longer. The faithful, indeed, among their subjects will be represented in the Council by their pastors. But if any separation has taken place, it is because the civil powers have separated themselves from the Church.... The gravity of the fact is not to be denied. . . . The pontiffs have for generations been lifting up their voices in vain to warn the governments of Christendom of the peril of breaking the bonds which unite civil society to the faith and to the Church.... But the governments of the Christian world would not listen, and so now a General Council meets, and the place where, as at the Lateran, at Florence, and at Trent, they would have sat, is empty."

There can be no doubt, therefore, that the principal reason for the assembling of the Council lies in the fact that the Papacy finds itself in a position unexampled in its history, and not a little perilous. It is to be added that the same changes which have made a council necessary have facilitated the assembling of one. Till of late the Pope would have found it no easy matter to get a council together. The Roman Catholic governments would have raised all manner of difficulties, just as they used to do in former times when councils occasionally met. For, till the recent changes took place, the governments would have held themselves bound to take action with regard to the decisions the Council might arrive at; and could hardly have avoided taking action in the way of enforcing the decisions, by civil pains, within their respective territories. Naturally, therefore, they would have been nervously anxious not to encounter the chance of having decrees framed which they might have found it difficult to enforce on their subjects. All this is changed. The Roman Catholic governments took care to certify the Pope, when he summoned the Council, that while they would not oppose the gathering, they could take no part in it, and would hold themselves free to disregard any decision it might

come to.

Hence it has come to pass-much to the surprise of those who knew the difficulties encountered in the gathering of previous councils, and had not noted the total change of the European system of late-that the new Roman Council has been able to assemble on the day first appointed, and seems likely to be suffered to go through its work without any external interference.

Enough has been said to make it apparent that this Ecumenical Council is no trivial affair, but an event of immense importance. It is true, It is true, indeed-and we ought most heartily to thank God for it—that the Protestant communities have no such deep personal interest in this gathering as their fathers had in that of Trent. It need not raise apprehensions of approaching persecution. Rome does not exercise dominion as she did three hundred years ago. The cruel mind remains; the ruthless principles remain; but the power is gone. It is the Protestant nations that now possess the chief power in the civilized world; every generation sees the balance more and more inclining in their favour; and (as we have seen) the Roman Catholic governments are no longer devoted to the Papal interest. But although there is no cause for anxiety so far as their private interests are concerned, there are other and higher reasons why the evangelical Churches should take an interest in this Council. The Church of Rome can still count among its adherents many millions of souls—souls calling themselves by the name of Christ, and precious in His sight. Whatever is likely to affect them vitally ought to possess a deep interest for Christ's people,-will possess a deep interest for all who have the mind of Christ. There ought, therefore, to be earnest prayer with regard to this assembly-that the Lord may, in the way which His unsearchable wisdom sees best, cause its deliberations to turn out for good; and, in particular, that He may break the bonds by which so many souls are held in the thraldom of Antichristian error.

And the matter has another side. I have said

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that the old Papal system is demolished; that the political power of the Papacy is gone. I am anxious that this statement should not be misunderstood. It relates only to the political and external power of the Papacy. That power is indeed gone; but the religious and internal power-the power over the consciences of individuals-is not gone: and we had best not be too confident that it is even going. It may please God, in answer to the prayer of His people, so to blind the eyes of the proud prelates, and to fill them with such infatuated presumption, that they shall frame decrees which will open the eyes of men to see the character of the whole system. has not seldom dealt thus with His enemies. One can hardly suppose that if the blasphemous doctrine of Papal Infallibility and the monstrous propositions of the Syllabus are framed into articles of faith, necessary to be believed on pain of eternal damnation, there can fail to result a deep commotion of mind within the Romish Church. But it is just possible that the prelates may realize the danger, and dexterously avoid it. It is possible that, for our sins and the sins of the Roman Catholics themselves, the Council may be suffered to devise means that will strengthen the Papal interest and prolong its dominion over men's consciences for a season longer. The fact that, simultaneously with its loss of political power, the Papacy has been gaining so many of the aristocracy of this country, may well remind us that this is no time to fall asleep in the pleasing dream that it has lost all its old power. Papacy is still the most potent and formidable enemy that the gospel of Christ, and the Church of Christ, and the blood-bought liberties of Christ's people have to encounter. It is of urgent importance that Christ's faithful people should rouse themselves anew to prayer and labour. The whole Romish system should be studied afresh. Above all, the faithful Churches of Christ ought to guard against mutual suspicions, and unite their ranks for the defence and spread of His truth.

The

beside the entrance to the tabernacle, and easily accessible to any among the meanest, as well as to any among the noblest, of the nation who might need his counsel, his eye had lighted upon a woman among the worshippers whose whole aspect made a painful im

pression on the good man's mind. She was attempting to worship; but her excited appearance suggested the fear that she had been drinking too freely of the wine which it was the custom to drink in moderation at some of the feasts. Offended by so gross an abuse, which turned the solemn ordinance into mockery, the old priest could not refrain from reproving the irreverence. "And Eli said, How long wilt thou be drunken? put away thy wine from thee." Hannah, who in her grief had not been able even to eat, modestly replied, "No, my lord, I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but have poured out my soul before the Lord." More than satisfied that he had been mistaken, and grieved perhaps that he had spoken so harshly to one of the Lord's afflicted, he kindly and earnestly replied, "Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant thee thy petition that thou hast asked of him." What could be more admirable than all this? or what could be more worthy of one whose office made him the father of his people?

The favourable impression thus made on us is not diminished by what we read of him in his subsequent dealings with Hannah, and with her son, the boy Samuel. All that is said of him shows us still the same gentle and holy man of God. Especially in the last hour of life, the devout spirit of the aged priest shines like a star. He is seated on a high stool by the wayside, waiting with anxious heart to hear intelligence from the field of battle. Israel and the Philistines are engaged in mortal struggle; and much depends upon the issue of the fight. Besides the national interests which are at stake, Eli has his two sons on the field; and, what is of more consequence to him than either sons or other selfish interest, the Ark of the Covenant is also on the field, which ark he, as high-priest, should never have allowed to be put in jeopardy. As he thus sat by the wayside, a messenger from the army came to Shiloh. So soon as Eli heard the stir, he inquired the reason, and the man was brought to him. "And the man said unto Eli, I am he that came out of the army, and I fled to-day out of the army. And he said, What is there done, my son? And the messenger answered and said, Israel is fled before the Philistines." One can suppose that as the stranger so spoke, the face of his aged auditor darkened; but the grief was bearable, so he waited to hear more. "There hath been also a great slaughter among the people," continues the messenger; "and thy two sons also, Hophni and Phinehas, are dead." The old man's gentle features grow slightly darker, but he still says nothing. "And the Ark of God is taken," adds the messenger. This last was too much. As if struck by lightning, the old man's strength collapsed, his heart grew faint, he could not even sit; so he fell backwards, and his neck brake.

Now, all this is truly admirable; and if we had been told no more of Eli, we could only have venerated his memory as one of the most single-hearted of saints. But alas, these buts! There is always some draw

back or other; there is always a but somewhere, even in the best of men. It is said of Solomon that he "loved the Lord, walking in the statutes of David his father; only he sacrificed and burnt incense in high places" (1 Kings iii. 3). And every Solomon, every Eli, every mere man has his but, his only. And good Eli's but was a very serious one. "His sons madethemselves vile; and he restrained them not." In thus winking at their shocking abuse of holy things, he is blamed for honouring his profane sons beyond Jehovah, and for colleaguing with them to kick at God's sacrifice, and at his offering which he had commanded. That very gentleness of disposition, that facileness of temper, which helped to make his natural character so beautiful, resulted at last in the ruin of himself and of his house. And the same principle operates still. Have we a special excellency ?-let us watch it with double diligence, for possibly our greatest danger lurks within it. An unguarded vice will certainly injure us; an unguarded virtue may possibly ruin us. In a world like this, it is as unsafe to be a mere dove without the serpent's wisdom, as it is to be a serpent without the harmlessness of the dove. Eli's character was not well balanced; and his uncontrolled amiabilities brought ruin on his family, grievous injury on his people, and dishonour on the name of God most high.

The great sin of Eli has been in all ages a very common one; the amiably passive Eli-character falls into it so easily. Nay, one would sometimes be tempted to think that, since every age has its own peculiar tendencies towards both good and evil, our own age is, to an alarming degree, an Eli-age. Certain it is, that in many circles Christian parents are now bringing up their families with a degree of laxity to which they themselves were strangers when they were under the training of their godly fathers. In many cases the ultimate results are not in the least degree doubtful; they are recorded for our warning in this story of Eli's sin and of Eli's punishment. "I wonder how it happens," said a good man lately, "that children nowa-days are becoming so unmanageable. There is a general spirit of insubordination abroad among the young, which I do not remember to have seen when I was a child. My children are certainly a great deal worse to manage than my father's children were; and I can see that many families round about me are just as troublesome as mine. I cannot understand where this strange spirit of lawlessness comes from. The tempers of children are surely becoming much changed." "Ah, my friend,” was the reply, "children are now what children have always been; but I fear that godly parents are not quite the same. Instead of contrasting your father's children with your own, will you compare your father with yourself, and tell me whether he did not exercise a much stricter rule over his household than you do over yours." He assented, sighed, and went away. Of course there are many happy excep

tions; but this seems to be the direction in which the current of progress—so called-is flowing. Let Christian parents moor themselves to the unchanging precepts of the divine Word, lest they be drifted listlessly along with the powerful current.

Leaving altogether the story of the ancient Jewish priest, let us glance for a little at the course of one of his modern imitators. This Eli, then, entirely neglected the training of his children during their earlier months and years. He fancied that at their time of life it would be mere waste to spend much care upon their training, since they were incapable of profiting by it. He therefore left matters very much to their own development, under the idea that it could matter nothing whether he commenced his operations now, or deferred them for a year or two. Alas, where were his eyes? Had he not seen it in the case of many a neighbouring household-had he not read it in his Bible, that a parent cannot begin his parental work too soon? His formal admonitions, indeed, he might have deferred for a season; but his Christian nurture he should have commenced on the day of his infant's birth. Had he done so in the fear of God, the posture of domestic affairs to-day would have been vastly different. Into his hands a little child had been laid, a soft and pliant twig, which, at this period, he might easily have bent at will; but he allowed the twig to grow neglected for a time; and so, when he began to teach the boy, he found that the soft twig had become a sturdy branch, on which, if he work at all, he must toil with sweat and tears. Eli soon grew discouraged; and the same indecision which had tempted him to delay at first still tempted him to advance his more convenient season further forward into the future, under the hope that years of discretion would bring discretion with them. The years soon came; but, alas! the discretion came not; and now each neglected branch has grown into an oak-tree trunk, beside which Eli stands in his old age in the anguish of desponding helplessness; for the kneed and crooked bole will scarcely break, and will never bend. And all this has come out of the neglect of a soft and pliant twig, as pliant almost as a silken thread. "A twig!" exclaims some reader, half scornfully; "my child is no twig. His sturdy self-will perplexes me, and I know not how to treat him." Indeed! then your complaint involves in it a confession. You have been to some extent, at least-neglecting the baby; and the neglected baby, grown into a child, is already too strong for you. Learn from this what the neglected child, grown into a rebellious boy, promises to be. Begin at once! BEGIN at once! No parent❘ may safely procrastinate; but you are the parent who, beyond others, must not lose another minute. If you delay a little longer, you shall be too late; and though your heart-broken repentance may be met by forgiveness for your own sin, it may not hinder in the slightest your child's complete destruction.

This is a most important matter, and must not be

lightly dismissed. The child cannot be taught dogmas and doctrines while it is still in the nurse's arms; but even then its disposition is getting a permanent bias, and habits are beginning to be formed which shall by and by acquire the permanent strength of a second nature. Selfishness or self-denial, lawlessness or obedience, ferocity or gentleness, cunning or integrity, are being taught to the child while yet it is nourished by its mother's milk. And these earliest of all lessons can scarcely be effaced by any after-education--they give an abiding bias to the life-long character.

"Præsens gravidum futuro," says a profound thinker; and this principle applies to nothing more strictly than it does to early infancy. The infancy contains in germ the entire life. As the oak-tree lies hid in the acorn; nay, as millions of oaks are concealed in a single nut, so the first year of life comprises the childhood, the youth, the manhood, the old age,—and shall we shrink from adding to these, the long eternity. Of course no one will think that we presumptuously mean to enunciate a rigid rule which admits of noexceptions. There are exceptions; and yet, with a certain latitude, these solemn words are true. 0 parent, seek grace to be faithful in the education of your infant, for your training of him is to prove the most influential of all the elements which shall go to decide his everlasting destiny. Labour and pray that the heart of your child may be secured for Jesus, for when the childhood is secured, you have done the best that can be done for securing time and eternity; while, if you leave the enemy to occupy the child, you are doing all in your power to hand over to the same enemy the boy, and the man, and the man beyond the grave.

And how is this early training of the infant to be attended to? Not, certainly, to any great extent by formal instruction; though these, in their own small measure, must not be wholly neglected. But the parent will educate his infant rather by his life than by his words; by his being careful to make himself what he wishes his child to become, rather than by any formal lessons. By a divine arrangement, the hunger of the young heart impels the child to appropriate incessantly the moral and spiritual influences which surround it; and these, be they good or be they evil, it will receive, and assimilate, and by means of them it will gradually build up its own moral and spiritual character. The parent, whether he remember the fact or not, is constantly radiating these influences around him; and the child is as constantly appropriating and assimilating them. There is no intermission. Day by day, moment by moment, the process is going on. There is not a word, not a movement, not a smile, not a frown, not an act of the parent but which is telling for good or for evil on the character, and, therefore, on the future of the child. The parent, then, can only train his child to become what he really is himself. It is not what he says, but what he is, that makes the deep and