anciful, and Augustine captious. So persistent were his
efforts against the traditional authority of the church that they
endangered the very foundations of German Protestantism. One would have
thought him at times exhausted of strength; but no sooner did the
thinking public recover from one surprise than it was startled by
another attack. The church reeled beneath his invasion of her doctrinal
and historical authority. But there was a limit to her patience. To call
those heroic standard-bearers of her early faith fanatics and
visionaries was quite too much for her to endure.

It now remained to be seen whether Semler's boldness would overleap
itself, or prove the ruin of the religious spirit of the Continent for
generations. The result, whatever it might be, was soon to be decided.
For such views as he was propagating throughout the Protestant church of
Germany could not fail to determine speedily the drift of the public
sentiment of his day.

His work, though destructive, was in conflict with the pure beauty of
his private life. And here we look at him as one of the enigmas of human
biography. True to his tenet that a man's public teachings need not
influence his personal living, he was at once a teacher of skepticism
and an example of piety. His Moravian origin and Pietistic training he
could never forget; nor do we believe he attempted it. No doubt the
asperity that he witnessed at Halle did much to repel him from the
harsher side of Pietism. When he heard his room-mate praying aloud three
hours a day upon his knees; and when he was advised to lay aside all
extensive studies, because he would never be converted while pursuing
them, he began to question whether intellectual progress were compatible
with deep piety. The conclusion at which he arrived was against the
intellectuality of the creed of Spener, but in favor of the spiritual
purity of the life of his disciples. Through Semler's entire career we
can find traces of that devoted spirit which had shined so brightly in
his early youth, and which, in late life, he was not ashamed to confess.
"There was no corner in the whole house," said he, "where I did not
kneel, and pray, and weep alone that God might, out of his infinite
mercy, pardon my sins. I felt that I was under the bondage of the law.
Moravian songs seemed to be of very little help to me. I examined myself
carefully to see whether or not I clung to any sin either consciously or
ignorantly. I reproached