s he taught
the Creed, which was not committed to writing, nor ever repeated in the
presence of an unbeliever; it thus served as a sign of recognition, and
a proof of the position of the man who was able to recite it, showing
that he was a baptised member of the Church. How truly in those days the
grace conveyed by Baptism was believed in is shown by the custom of
death-bed Baptism that grew up. Believing in the reality of Baptism, men
and women of the world, unwilling to resign its pleasures or to keep
their lives pure from stain, would put off the rite of Baptism until
Death's hand was upon them, so that they might benefit by the
sacramental grace, and pass through Death's portal pure and clean, full
of spiritual energy. Against that abuse some of the great Fathers of the
Church struggled, and struggled effectively. There is a quaint story
told by one of them, I think by S. Athanasius, who was a man of caustic
wit, not averse to the use of humour in the attempt to make his hearers
understand at times the folly or perversity of their behaviour. He told
his congregation that he had had a vision, and had gone up to the
gateway of heaven, where S. Peter stood as Warder. No pleased smile had
he for the visitant, but a frown of stern displeasure. "Athanasius,"
said he, "why are you continually sending me these empty bags, carefully
sealed up, with nothing inside?" It was one of the piercing sayings we
meet with in Christian antiquity, when these things were real to
Christian men, and not mere forms, as they too often are to-day.

The custom of Infant Baptism gradually grew up in the Church, and hence
the instruction which in the early days preceded Baptism came to be the
preparation for Confirmation, when the awakened mind and intelligence
take up and re-affirm the baptismal promises. The reception of the
infant into the Church is seen to be rightly done, when man's life is
recognised as being lived in the three worlds, and when the Spirit and
Soul who have come to inhabit the new-born body are known to be not
unconscious and unintelligent, but conscious, intelligent, and potent in
the invisible worlds. It is right and just that the "Hidden Man of the
heart"[339] should be welcomed to the new stage of his pilgrimage, and
that the most helpful influences should be brought to bear upon the
vehicle in which he is to dwell, and which he has to mould to his
service. If the eyes of men were opened, as were of old those of the
ser