unrest, because
perfection cannot be attained; the most terrible slavery to which a man
can be conscientiously doomed, verging into hypocrisy and fanaticism.

It was then that a kind and enlightened friend visited him, and
recommended him to read the Bible. The Bible never has been a sealed
book to monks; it was ever highly prized; no convent was without it: but
it was read with the spectacles of the Middle Ages. Repentance meant
penance. In Saint Paul's Epistles Luther discovers the true ground of
justification,--not works, but faith; for Paul had passed through
similar experiences. Works are good, but faith is the gift of God. Works
are imperfect with the best of men, even the highest form of works, to a
Mediaeval eye,--self-expiation and penance; but faith is infinite,
radiating from divine love; faith is a boundless joy,--salvation by the
grace of God, his everlasting and precious boon to people who cannot
climb to heaven on their hands and knees, the highest gift which God
ever bestowed on men,--eternal life.

Luther is thus emancipated from the ideas of the Middle Ages and of the
old Syriac monks and of the Jewish Pharisees. In his deliverance he has
new hopes and aspirations; he becomes cheerful, and devotes himself to
his studies. Nothing can make a man more cheerful and joyful than the
cordial reception of a gift which is infinite, a blessing which is too
priceless to be bought. The pharisee, the monk, the ritualist, is
gloomy, ascetic, severe, intolerant; for he is not quite sure of his
salvation. A man who accepts heaven as a gift is full of divine
enthusiasm, like Saint Augustine. Luther now comprehends Augustine, the
great doctor of the Church, embraces his philosophy and sees how much it
has been misunderstood. The rare attainments and interesting character
of Luther are at last recognized; he is made a professor of divinity in
the new university, which the Elector of Saxony has endowed, at
Wittenberg. He becomes a favorite with the students; he enters into the
life of the people. He preaches with wonderful power, for he is popular,
earnest, original, fresh, electrical. He is a monk still, but the monk
is merged in the learned doctor and eloquent preacher. He does not yet
even dream of attacking monastic institutions, or the Pope; he is a good
Catholic in his obedience to authorities; but he hates the Middle Ages,
and all their ghostly, funereal, burdensome, and technical religious
customs. He is human,