secular power shall relinquish its hold on the sceptre of Christ, when the Church of the living God shall deter from its fellowship all but professed

disciples, and when the supremacy of the Saviour and the word of His truth shall be owned to the exclusion of all others.

MIDNIGHT is past! The great bell begins to send its deep tones through the still calm air. Soon the other bells join in solemn chorus, as they usher in the ceremony of the Angels' Consecration." The wide portals of the church stand open, and the delighted crowd is inundated with floods of light, as it pours into the sacred edifice, and surrounds the altar of the Virgin. Unlike the wife of the humble carpenter of old, this Mary is arrayed in golden robes, a crown of diamonds glitters on her brow, and at her feet a pile of precious gifts from kings and princes dazzle the eyes of her worshippers. The building is illuminated by thousands of coloured lamps, whilst the pictures upon the walls and ceiling appear endued with life in the flickering light. Many a well-known banner floats from the galleries, which seem in danger of breaking down under the weight of the illustrious guests, and the aisles are speedily filled with thousands of pilgrims.

Ave Maria! Ave Maria-Oh! humble Virgin, if thou canst look down from heaven, wilt thou not veil thine eyes in sorrow? All voices praise thee-the worship is all thine! Yet not quite all. There is a mark on the steps leading to the altar, where it is said that our

Saviour left the prints of His fingers, and thousands of hands are now thrust into these mysterious indentations, and thousands of hearts derive vain comfort from this act of mere idolatry.

The Prince Abbot ascends the steps; his snow-white tabard is embroidered with silver, and the pilgrims gaze with admiration upon his noble form. The great organ, combined with numbers of other instruments, pours forth a solemn peal, whilst the voices of the choir float sweetly from yonder gallery. All influences unite to charm and impress the senses! The waves of music roll majestically through the vast vaulted building the clouds of fragrant incense rise, whilst the priests bow before the altar-and the crowd, almost overpowered by the scene, prostrate themselves on their knees, and beat their breasts! The mass is celebrated.

But now follows a solemn pause; each bosom draws a new breath, and every eye is raised to the pulpit, which has just been ascended by a simple Benedictine monk. His face is deadly pale, but beams of almost supernatural light emanate from his solemn eyes. A whisper runs through the church. Who is this man? It is Ulric Zwingli, the new preacher to the pilgrims. But listen

Is

NOTWITHSTANDING,

however, the

broad daylight which streamed down upon the convent, and for a time illumined the souls of its inmatesnotwithstanding Zwingli's preaching and example-Einsiedeln remains to this day dedicated to the worship of the Virgin Mary. There is much in the mysterious providence of God which we cannot understand. Perhaps had Zwingli remained at the convent for a longer period, he might have. broken its golden chains for ever; but God had destined him for a wider sphere of labour, and had placed him there only for a time, to gather strength for the coming battle, and then he was removed to the Cathedral of Zurich.

There, in the old minster built by Charlemagne, whose statue still gazes from its towers upon the lake and the lovely valley of the Limmath, Zwingli first reared the torch of the free Gospel. Zurich, beautiful Zurich, is the cradle of our Swiss Reformation. There, with a firm, though gentle hand, he removed one by one the strongholds of superstition, replacing them by a purer system of worship. There he opposed the covetous monk Samson, who came from Rome to sell "indulgences," and having amassed a cartload of golden crowns, now approached the gates of Zurich. But Zwingli presented himself before the Council, and his eloquent pleadings prevailed against the vindictive man, who, invoking the plague from heaven upon the town, left it without having sold a scrap of paper.

The plague came!-not in answer to the monk's impious prayer, but as a natural consequence of the neglect of sanitary precautions.

Zwingli remained at his post. Day after day, night after night, he

spent in visiting the sick, and by his very presence carried hope and comfort to the hearts of the sufferers. He bentoverthe dying, bidding them trust more to the Christ of Heaven than to the sacrament which he administered to them-bidding them rest their anxious souls on the Saviour's promises-till they died with a smile!

At last his strength gave way When the plague began to abate Zwingli lay down, as he believed, to die! But the champion of the cause of God could not be spared as yet. The Angel of Death passed him by, but laid his cold hand on Andreas, Zwingli's youngest brother, his joy and pride, one of the loveliest youths of Switzerland.

From the balmy heights of his mountain home the loving Andreas had descended to nurse his brother; and when his work of mercy was complete-when health and strength began again to to course through Zwingli's veins-Andreas bowed his head, and died.

But the Lord, who took to Himself this beloved brother, provided Zwingli with a new and sweet comforter a noble, loving wife.

At the sick-bed of her child, he first met with Anna Reinhard, widow of Hans Meyer, of Knonau, one of the most beautiful and highlyaccomplished of women. Zwingli had long thought of endeavouring to set aside, by his own example, the enforced celibacy of the priesthood; and when he beheld the gentle face of Anna Reinhard, bending with a mother's anxiety over the little bed-when he gazed upon those beautiful eyes, now wet with tears— a new feeling rose in his heart, and he felt that he had found the woman of his love.

Nor were his sentiments unanswered. Anna had long looked up to him as her ideal of a Christian man, whilst her little son Gerold loved Zwingli with that ardent admiration which has such a mighty and beneficent sway over the young soul; and ere long the word was spoken which bound them together for ever. In the garden of the Convent" Seldenau," where Anna often. visited the holy sisters, and joined her rich pure voice to those of their choir -in a green bower, overshadowed by honeysuckle-Zwingli offered her his hand and heart. He was accepted, for Anna Reinhard possessed abundant courage and energy to surmount the trials and difficulties which such a step entailed; and henceforth she had but one joy, one sorrow, and one heavenly hope with him.

On the 2nd of April, 1504, the old cathedral was the scene of a spectacle never before witnessed within its walls. The man who preached so eloquently from that pulpit, stood at the bridal altar to take the hand of his lawful wife. There were doubtless many who cavilled at this act of bold defiance of established rules, but they were by far the minority. The greater The greater number thanked God and rejoiced. The poor nuns, many of whom had been shut up sorely against their will in those sad graves of youth and love, drew a long breath as hopes of coming deliverance came floating, like spring breezes, to their pining and imprisoned hearts. Many a good priest soon followed the example of the courageous leader, and took to himself a wife. The first dawn of a more pure and happy life for the clergy rose above the horizon on that morning when the bells rang so merrily for the marriage of Ulric Zwingli and Anna Reinhard. In the same year the monasteries in the canton of Zurich

were abolished, and the poor victims of captivity given back to life and its nobler duties.

Poor Anna! when she laid aside the gentlewoman's cloak for the simple garments of the preacher's wife, she at the same time took up the cross! Still it was happiness, unspeakable happiness, to be his, even though each smile of joy was soon dimmed by tears. Their married life was a beautiful illustration of the principles for which Zwingli laboured, and many a doubting mind was convinced of the truth on beholding this loving couple, and their pure happiness in each other.

In the same year the cathedral witnessed another jubilee. Zwingli there celebrated the Lord's Supper with his congregation, for the first time, in its primitive form; and when the cup passed from hand to handwhen cach tasted of the symbolic bread, it seemed to the grateful souls of these emancipated Christians that they only now heard the joyful tidings that Christ had died for

them.

Manifold were the dangers by which Zwingli was surrounded on all sides; but the sword of the assassin, the dagger of the midnight murderer, were drawn in vain. The Lord Himself was his shield and buckler. Once the poisoned cup was already raised to his lips, a moment more, and his doom would have been sealedbut the Lord employs humble and despised instruments as well as great ones to do His will: a spider, which fell into the cup, betrayed, by its immediate death and swollen body, the presence of a lurking poison, and thus saved the life of the great reformer. Vain is the craftiness of men if the Lord of hosts be on our side.

The priesthood raged and plotted for Zwingli's downfall. Traps were laid, and evil reports were wafted in all directions-still he went steadily

forward, and the Angel of the Covenant went before him and cleared the way. The true light from heaven began to flood the dark church, and to pierce every hidden recess and shady corner, revealing the corruption which had been accumulating for centuries; but now the spirit of evil also rose, and with a busy hand sowed tares amongst the wheat.

Hitherto Zwingli's weapons had been only those of the spirit, but alas! the one great error which

dimmed his glory, and paved the way to his ruin, already began to project its forboding shadow over his career. Acts of violence and oppression began to sully the dawn of the reformation, when the churches were stripped of their ornaments, the images thrown down, and even the fine organs shattered to pieces; and thus the good done was soon outweighed by bitterness and hatred, and the seeds of oppression promised a plentiful harvest.

THE five inner or original cantons, Uri, Schwyz, Unterwalden, Zug, and Lucerne, whose inhabitants consisted chiefly of ignorant herdsmen, who were entirely under the control of the priests, obstinately refused to receive the Reformation. That Schwyz, where Zwingli's celebrated sermon at Einsiedeln had been preached, now turned its back upon light and truth, and made common cause with the others; and, like Israel of old, the Lord hardened their hearts, so that, even to this day, they see, but do not believe.

This religion, without images or ceremonies-this simply spiritual worship displeased the childish minds of the Alpine population, and, unfortunately, the conduct of many Protestants did not prepossess them in favour of their cause. Many deeds of oppression had been committed, to Zwingli's great sorrow, and the priests eagerly seized every opportunity of pointing out the failings of the hated new system, or rather the sins of those who debased, but did not illustrate it.

Evil influences from abroad helped to fan the fire of discord from within, and soon the religious conflict altogether changed its character. It became a mere political struggle between the larger and smaller cantons.

On the one side there was a dogged determination to receive no advice, and to comply with no propositions; whilst, on the other, there was love of power-and, alas! here Zwingli's star began to pale, and the whole political horizon grew dark with the threatening aspect of the coming storm.

Zwingli's motives remained pure as ever. For himself, he would accept nothing; he laboured only for his church and country; but his burning zeal overpowered his discretion in the choice of means; and when he, unhappily, used harsh measures, and permitted cruel sentences to be passed upon the rebellious cantons, he chose the path of destruction for Zurich and himself. It is useless to relate all the convulsions of that agitated time. The most correct and ample description may be found in D'Aubigne's "History of the Reformation." Suffice it to say, that the Protestant cantons threatened to cut off all supplies from their refractory brethren, and the Catholics entered into a treacherous alliance with Austria, who promised to defend their liberty and religion. These steps hastened the outbreak of hostilities, and at last the sword was drawn.

Three miles from Zurich is a verdant plateau, where an ancient Cister