of a new age, the onward march of humanity, the necessary progress of society.  I admit the secondary causes of the Reformation, which are very important,—­the awakened spirit of inquiry in the sixteenth century, the revival of poetry and literature and art, the breaking up of feudalism, fortunate discoveries, the introduction of Greek literature, the Renaissance, the disgusts of Christendom, the voice of martyrs calling aloud from their funeral pyres; yea, the friendly hand of princes and scholars deploring the evils of a corrupted Church.  But how much had Savonarola, or Erasmus, or John Huss, or the Lollards aroused the enthusiasm of Europe, great and noble as were their angry and indignant protests?  The genius of the Reformation in its early stages was a religious movement, not a political or a moral one, although it became both political and moral.  Its strength and fervor were in the new ideas of salvation,—­the same that gave power to the early preachers of Christianity,—­not denunciations of imperialism and slavery, and ten thousand evils which disgraced the empire, but the proclamation of the ideas of Paul as to the grounds of hope when the soul should leave the body; the salvation of the Lord, declared to a world in bondage.  Luther kindled the same religious life among the masses that the apostles did; the same that Wyclif did, and by the same means,—­the declaration of salvation by belief in the incarnate Son of God, shedding his blood in infinite love.  Why, see how this idea spread through Germany, Switzerland, and France and took possession of the minds of the English and Scotch yeomanry, with all their stern and earnest ruggedness.  See how it was elaborately expanded by Calvin, how it gave birth to a new and strong theology, how it entered into the very life of the people, especially among the Puritans,—­into the souls of even Cromwell’s soldiers.  What made “The Pilgrim’s Progress” the most popular book ever published in England?  Because it reflected the theology of the age, the religion of the people, all based on Luther’s theses,—­the revival of those old doctrines which converted the Roman provinces from Paganism.  I do not care if these statements are denied by Catholics, or rationalists, or progressive savants.  What is it to me that the old views have become unfashionable, or are derided, or are dead, in the absorbing materialism of this Epicurean yet brilliant age?  I know this, that I am true to history when I declare that the glorious Reformation in which we all profess to rejoice, and which is the greatest movement, and the best, of our modern time,—­susceptible of indefinite application, interlinked with the literature and the progress of England and America,—­took its first great spiritual start from the ideas of Luther as to justification.  This was the voice of heaven’s messenger proclaiming aloud, so that the heavens re-echoed to the glorious and triumphant annunciation, and the earth heard and rejoiced with exceeding joy, “Behold, I send tidings of salvation:  it is grace, divine grace, which shall undermine the throne of popes and pagans, and reconcile a fallen world to God!”