was not yet fallen.  As to his new gospel, had it welded the nation into greater unity and power?  The discontent had only been increased.  The future of his church was to depend on the worldly interests of a few princes; and he knew the best among them!  Something terrible was coming; the Scriptures were to be fulfilled; the Day of Judgment was at hand.  But after this God would build up a new universe more beautiful, grander, and purer, full of peace and happiness, a world in which no devil would exist, in which every human soul would feel more joy over the flowers and fruit of the new trees of heaven than the present generation over gold and silver; where music, the most beautiful of all arts, should ring in tones much more delightful than the most splendid song of the best singers in this world.  There a good man would find again all the dear ones whom he had loved and lost in this world.

The longing of the creature for the ideal type of existence grew stronger and stronger in him.  If he expected the end of the world, it was due to dim remembrances from the far-distant past of the German people, which still hovered over the soul of the new reformer.  Yet it was likewise a prophetic foreboding of the near future.  It was not the end of the world that was in preparation, but the Thirty Years’ War.

Thus he died.  When the hearse with his corpse passed through the Thuringian country, all the bells in city and hamlet tolled, and the people crowded sobbing about his bier.  A large portion of the German national strength went into the coffin with this one man.  And Philip Melanchthon spoke in the castle church at Wittenberg over his body:  “Any one who knew him well, must bear witness to this—­that he was a very kind man, gracious, friendly, and affectionate in all conversation, and by no means insolent, stormy, obstinate, or quarrelsome.  And yet with this went a seriousness and courage in words and actions, such as there should be in such a man.  His heart was loyal and without guile.  The severity which he used in his writings against the enemies of the Gospel came not from a quarrelsome and malicious spirit but from great seriousness and zeal for the truth.  He showed very great courage and manhood, and was not easily disturbed.  He was not intimidated by threats, danger, or alarms.  He was also of such a high, clear intelligence that when affairs were confused, obscure, and difficult he was often the only one who could see at once what was advisable and feasible.  He was not, as perhaps some thought, too unobservant to notice the condition of the government everywhere.  He knew right well how we are governed, and noted especially the spirit and the intentions of those with whom he had to do.  We, however, must keep a faithful, everlasting memory of this dear father of ours, and never let him go out of our hearts.”  Such was Luther—­an almost superhuman nature; his mind ponderous and sharply limited, his will powerful and temperate, his morals pure, his heart full of love.  Because no other man appeared after him strong enough to become the leader of the nation, the German people lost for centuries their leadership of the earth.  The leadership of the Germans in the realm of intellect, however, is founded on Luther.