ast to his Christian faith. They call it
freedom, humanity; but it is not that. It is hate, venom, bad blood.
They will tear from them all bonds, as Balle says, raise a
revolt--revolt against all that is beautiful and good, against God,
against belief. H'm! Build the State, this whole earthly life, upon a
heathen foundation! Sever connection with Christianity, cast the
Church away from them like old trash. That is terrible! And free love,
free thought--the Christian religion out of the schools--no! that is
Satan himself who rages. Free thoughts in my time were not so: they
were warm and beautiful; there was heart in them; they made us good
and happy." He shook himself, as if to throw off a chill. Should one
be silent at such things? Should one look quietly on while this evil
spirit eats itself in among the people? or should one, like a disciple
of God, lift up the sword of the Word and the Spirit against this
poisonous basilisk?

He read in the Bible and in Luther. Then he got up again and walked.
The clock struck hour after hour, but the old man did not hear it. He
thought only of the heavy responsibility. Was it not to profane the
house of God and the holy office, to drag the struggle and strife of
the day into it? Was he not set to watch over word and teaching, but
not to be a judge in the world's disputes? But of his flock, the
people of the Church, the Bride of Christ, whom he should watch, but
who stood in the midst of a wicked world, and whose souls were harmed
when such evil gusts blew? Would not every soul at the Judgment Day be
demanded at his hands? And was he a good shepherd, who indeed kept
watch against the wolf when the wolf came having on his right garb,
but looked on and was silent when he came clothed in sheep's garments
and pretended to belong among the good? He read anew in Luther. At
last he knelt down and prayed for a long time, and ended with a
fervent and heartfelt "Our Father."

Then he arose as if freed from doubt, looked meekly up to heaven, and
said, "As thou wilt, O Lord!" He seated himself in his arm-chair,
weary but happy, and fell asleep for a while. Presently, however, the
day grew gray in the east and he awoke. He read the morning prayers to
himself, chose his text, and thought about the sermon. When the bell
began to ring he went to church. He was pale, but calm and kindly. The
farmers looked at him and greeted him more warmly than usual. The
pastor's wife and Ragna came shortly afte