Christ cleanseth from all sin.' I felt as if the blood of the Son of God was applied to the wounds of my soul. Then, internally strengthened and consoled, knowing in whom I had believed, filled at once with shame and joy, poor in myself but rich in Christ, praising and giving thanks, I gave him my heart without reserve. I said no more to myself, as before, 'O, if it was not contrary to the commands of God, how would I give myself up to such a pleasure, to such an inclination!' But a voice cried in my renewed heart, 'How shall I again violate thy commandments, O Lord! What thou hatest, I renounce; it shall never please me more.' A little time after I was ordained, and settled as colleague with my father. I no longer addressed my hearers, as when a student, with cold discourses on morality; but tried to speak with simplicity and force of the one thing needful.' Thus I persevered. But I did not continue always in these first transports of faith and love. There were sometimes changes in my internal state. I even lost for a time my heavenly Friend; and learned gradually in the school of the Holy Spirit, how he was to be kept in the heart, namely, by going to be washed and purified in His blood daily, and anew, every time that inherent native corruption impelled me to revolt. Now my most urgent care is to abound more and more in my Lord and Saviour, to expect from his goodness all the graces necessary for me for time and for eternity, and to give him my whole heart in ex change. In this way all goes on of itself; all becomes easy in the spiritual career, upon which the mercy of my Redeemer has made me enter. My soul is filled with him; and I fear as much to do any thing which will be disagreeable to him, as one would fear to cause pain to a parent, a friend, or a benefactor. But to arrive at this, my young friend," continued the venerable old man, "forget not these capital truths of the Bible: The natural man understandeth not the things of the Spirit of God; they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them; for they are spiritually discerned.' 'No man cometh unto me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him.' No man calleth Jesus Lord, but by the Holy Spirit.' 'But,' O, what consolation! if ye who are evil know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give his Holy Spirit to them that ask him?'" After saying these words the old man withdrew from the chamber of the sick man, and left him to his own meditations. The young man did not close his heart to the affecting appeal; he examined carefully his views, and did not delay to follow in the footsteps of his venerable friend. Called, some time after, to fulfil the duties of Pastor, he proclaimed publicly, and with joy, his new sentiments, repeating with Paul, "I have determined to know nothing among you, but Jesus Christ, and him crucified." I am, &c., ROBERT GROSTETE. To the Editor of the Wesleyan-Methodist Magazine. THE gloomy era of Popery, although spreading its dark mantle over most of the civilized globe, and freezing the genial current of knowledge and of piety, was not altogether devoid of great and pious men, who struggled hard against the tyranny of ambitious Pontiffs, and excited all their energies to kindle the light of a purer faith around them. Like G. DE F. "Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better they belong not to the dawn," though insufficient to dispel the darkness around them, they are gladly welcomed as harbingers of the bright and glorious day. Of those who are most distinguished in early times for their unwearied exertions in the cause of liberty and religion, none is more illustrious than Robert Grostete, the good and pious Bishop of Lincoln. Master of all the learning and science of his day, he was looked upon with wonder bordering on superstition, and many a marvellous feat was attributed to him while yet an unripe scholar. But he was no less extraordinary for piety and devotion, for his earnest study of the Scriptures: a thing but seldom found in those days, when a useless philosophy engaged the most active intellects of the times. For this love and study of the Scriptures our Bishop was indebted to his mother, who, dying when he was very young, could leave him nothing, save a few pious precepts and her blessing. But the Parent to whom she commended him, "who heareth the young ravens when they cry," did not leave him unprovided. Being a youth of very pregnant parts, he was sent by some relations to Oxford, where his genius and industry speedily outstripped his contemporaries. From this place, in compliance with the fashion of those times, he was sent to Paris, then one of the most famous places in the world for its University; and after some time returned a ripe and finished scholar to his native country. His merit did not long remain unnoticed or unrewarded; for shortly after, in the year 1235, he was advanced to the diocese of Lincoln. Thus ordained to be a Bishop and shepherd of souls, he devoted himself to the welfare of Christ's flock, with the ardour of a primitive Apostle. In the words of his honest chronicler, "He rebuked the proud; he softened the angry, and soothed the wretched; he visited the sick, consoled the sorrowful, and wept for the poor; under his teaching England served God and was happy; virtue flourished, good was triumphant, and error fled." But in days like these, it was not possible for this good and generous Bishop to do his duty without molestation. In 1247 a circumstance occurred which occasioned him a dispute with the Friars. The Pope sent two of this brotherhood into England, to extort a large sum of money from the Clergy. After visit ing the chief Prelates of the realm, and compelling them, with many threats, and the fear of the Pope's displeasure, to satisfy their demands, they came at last to the Bishop of Lincoln. Producing a multitude of bulls and credentials, they required of him instant payment of about £50,000, as the quota from the diocese of Lincoln. The Bishop replied, not without concern and astonishment; he represented to them the greatness of the sum, the dishonesty of such demands, and his inability to comply with them; and resolutely told them that he would not obey, till he received the assent of the King and the Parliament. Not long after this, being desirous to bring these troublesome Friars, whose pretended sanctity was but a cloak for the worst of vices, under proper order and discipline, he took a journey to Rome, and succeeded, after much trouble and expense, in obtaining such an order as he desired from the Pope. "Not long after, the Monks not abiding that, who could soon weigh down the Bishop with money, sent their faction to the Pope, who with their golden eloquence so persuaded him, and stirred his affections in such sort, that soon they purchased to themselves freedom from their ordinary Bishop. Whereof Robert Grostete having intelligence, made up to Rome, and there complaining to the Pope, declared how he was disappointed and confounded in his purpose, contrary to the promises and assurances made to him before. Unto whom Pope Innocent, looking with a stern countenance, made this answer again: Brother, what is that to thee? Thou hast delivered and discharged thine own soul. It hath pleased us to show favour unto them. Is thine eye ill, for that I am good?'" (Fox, i., p. 370.) And "thus was the Bishop sent away with a flea in his ear, murmuring with himself; yet not so softly, but that the Pope heard him say these words: 'O money, money, what canst thou not do in the Court of Rome?"" (Mat. Paris, p. 693.) Deeply grieved to behold such injustice, and finding that all his labour and expense had been thrown away, he retraced his steps to England. When he had returned to his bishoprick, seeing the confusion and disorder which had crept into the Church, and were threatening its destruction, he had resolved, like some of his predecessors, to vacate his see, that he might escape the troubles of the world, and dedicate himself entirely to holy meditations, and to the service of God. But his piety and true Christian courage would not permit him to withdraw from the brunt of the battle, or desert his Lord's vineyard in the heat and burden of the day. And shortly after his courage and resolution were [tested in a fiery trial!:"It so befel, among other daily and intolerable exactions, wherein Pope Innocent was grievous and injurious, manifold ways, to the realm of England; he had a certain cousin or nephew, (so Popes were wont to call their sons,) named Frederic, being yet young and under years, whom the said Innocent the Pope would needs prefer to be a Canon or Prebendary in the church of Lincoln, in this time of Robert, Bishop of the said church; and upon the same directed down letters to certain his factors here in England for the execution thereof." (Fox, i., p. 418.) Among the rest he sends one to the Archdeacon of Canterbury, requiring him to see the said Frederic possessed of this preferment; denouncing the sentence of excommunication against all that shall dare to gainsay it, whatever obstacles there might be, and though he might never be present to perform the duties of such a station. As any one might see the unreasonableness of such a demand, and the gross violation of his duty in thus oppressing the church of God, and thus carelessly and wickedly committing the care of souls to boys and aliens, so is it no wonder that our good Bishop was offended at the message, and firmly resolved to disobey so unjust a demand. Accordingly he returns him an answer, in which, after begging pardon for his apparent disobedience, he represented to him that such a course of proceeding was utterly at variance with true sanctity, and the precepts of our Lord Jesus Christ; that there was no sin more repugnant to the holy Scriptures than to destroy men's souls by defrauding them of the pastoral care, which ought to quicken and preserve the same; that although he owed the Pope duty and obedience, as his spiritual lord, he could not pay him obedience in those things which flesh and blood had revealed, and not the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ that is in heaven. "When this epistle came to the knowledge of the Pope, he, fuming and fretting with anger and indignation, answered with a fierce look, and proud mind, saying, What old, doating, frantic wretch is this, so boldly and rashly to judge of my doings? By sweet Saint Peter and Paul, were it not but that upon our own clemency and good nature we are restrained, we should hurl him down to such confusion, that we would make him a fable, a gazing-stock, an example and wonderment to all the world. For is not the King of England our vassal? and, to say more, our manciple or page, which may at our pleasure and beck both hamper him, imprison him, and put him to utter shame?' This when the Pope, in his great fury and rage, had uttered amongst his brethren, the Cardinals, who were scarce able to appease the furious violence of the Pope, with mild moderation of words, said unto him, that it was not expedient for them to proceed against that Bishop in such rigorous manner. For,' said they, to confess the truth to your Holiness, it is but very truth that he affirmeth; neither can we condemn him therefore. He is a Catholic man; yea, also, a holy man; more holy, yea, also more religious, than we ourselves; a man of excellent wit and excellent life; so as it is thought among all Prelates he hath not his better, nor yet his like. The truth of this his epistle perhaps is known now to many, and shall stir up many against us; for he hath the name to be a great philosopher, and singularly seen in all the tongues, both Greek, Latin, and Hebrew; zealous in justice, a reader of divinity in the schools, a Preacher amongst the people, a lover of chastity, and a persecutor of simony.' (Fox, i., p. 420.) وو "These words brought back the Pope to his senses; and, fearing a disturbance, if he proceeded in the matter, he let it drop. To which he was the more inclined, inasmuch as shortly after, our Bishop fell grievously sick in the summer of this same year, 1253, at his manor of Bugden, and died a few days after. Three days before which event, feeling his infirmity rapidly to grow upon him, he called certain of his Clergy to his bedside, and forcibly exposed to them the evils which were rankling in the Church, and infesting its whole body with the foul disease of simony and usury. He bitterly lamented the injustice and violent extortion of the Pope; his constant favour to Monks and Friars, whom he encouraged in their disobedience; and who, under the habit of poverty and humiliation, carried a proud and resentful spirit. Neither,' saith he, 'shall the Church be delivered from this servitude of Egypt, but by violence and force, and with the bloody sword. And albeit,' saith he, these be yet but light matters, yet shortly more great and grievous things than these shall be seen.' And in the end of this his prophesying, which he could scarcely utter without sighing, sobbing, and weeping, his tongue and breath began to fail, and so, the organ of his voice being stopped, he made an end both of his speech and life." (Fox, i., p. 422, from Matthew Paris.) Thus died one of the most remarkable men of his time, so renowned for sanctity, learning, and wisdom, that he was thought not only during his life to be possessed of something more than human powers, but also to have wrought wonders after his death. Among other things, he is said to have appeared to Pope Innocent, and, striking him on the side with his pastoral staff, exclaimed in the ears of the astonished Pontiff, "Arise, thou wretch, and come to judgment !" But though he was held in such high esteem for his sanctity, the Court of Rome would not permit him to be inscribed in the catalogue of Saints; a refusal which, had he been alive, he would have little regarded: however, "the best is, God's calendar is more complete than man's best martyrologies; and their names are written in the book of life, who on earth are wholly forgotten." (Fuller's Church History.) SPIRITUAL LETTERS. No. VIII. From the Rev. MAY Jesus be our only joy: let us delight in him continually. All eyes in heaven are fixed upon him always. All hearts there are full of love toward him. And nothing should hinder our eyes being fixed upon him, nor our hearts being filled with him. He loved us, and this love brought him from the bosom of the Father to the bosom of Mary, and the manger, and the stable. It is there we are called to visit him in spirit with the poor (Luke xi. 8-18 Matt. v. 3; ii. 1-11) and wise. When we gladly submit to the loss of all that we may win Christ, then we find him indeed to be what he is, the true riches. When we yield up ourselves willingly to be counted fools for Christ's sake, he is then made of God to us wisdom. The heart to a Friend. B. must be emptied before it can entertain the infant Jesus. He will not, cannot, lodge in it while, like an inn, there is no room for him to lay his head. The poor in spirit possess the kingdom, because they make no resistance to its being set up within ; and stripped of all, leave God to work in them all the good pleasure of his goodness. Those who are content to be accounted fools for Christ's sake, he will make truly wise, by giving them "wisdom profitable to direct," and suffering no weapon formed against them to prosper. These only, of all men, know and love God in very deed. Others may hear of him by the ear: these see him in their heart. This sight of him changes them into his image, fills them with his glory, and makes them one with him. They dwell in God, and God dwells in them, as the soul of their soul, the life of their life, their joy, their all. The world and time, with things that are seen, make no impression on the heart in which God has placed his throne and fixed his residence. Then it is the soul holds converse with heaven, its affection being placed on things above, and its will actuated by that of God, who worketh in it effectually. Then it is the will of God is done on earth as in heaven; for such a soul, being conformed to Christ, doeth nothing of itself, and pleaseth not itself at all, but him in all. We must die that we may live. We must suffer cruci. fixion and burial, before we can rise to a new life altogether hidden and divine. It is not by our activity that we become new creatures. (2 Cor. v. 12-18.) Yet are we not from selfwill to sit down in idleness; for this would be to tempt God. Nor are we, careless and indifferent, to wander, and so sport with our own deceivings. But yielding up ourselves freely to be a whole burnt sacrifice, we should wait the glorious issue of this entire surrender to his will. We then at length should find and enjoy the good, the acceptable, the perfect One, who is waiting that he may be gracious to us. "He waits;" for, alas, so long as self-love and selfwill are active in us, they hinder him. The right eye and right hand must be plucked out and cut off; for they hinder his constraining us, and prevent his will working in us. God with us will be our eye and hand; but how often have we resisted as if we could see or work better than he ! Our salvation from all sin is the fruit of resting in him; our strength the result of that quietness only to be met with in his bosom. Why do we not listen to his voice, and return as the dove to the ark? It is in vain we look for safety, rest, or peace out of God. He is all we need, and infinitely more willing to communicate than we to receive. "Thou art, O my God! and beside thee nothing is worth a thought. Thou art all and every desirable good in one; supreme, essential, lasting good. Thou art and shalt be all in all when time shall be no longer; death must die, and the mystery receive its completion in the entire subjection of all to thy gentle sway." On Love's natal day heaven emptied itself to welcome his advent on earth; angels saw and worshipped their God manifest in flesh; the air, and earth, and seas, and skies, resounded with a new song of rapturous joy, which has not ceased, but may be heard by all who have ears to hear: "Glory to God in the highest ; and on earth peace, good-will to man." Let us listen to its harmony till we become filled with the Spirit which inspired it. God breathes nothing but peace, and wills nothing but good to man, through Jesus Christ. The gloomy empire of Satan in the soul is founded in ignorance, and built up by suspicion. We know not God, and suspect him to be illinclined towards us. O monstrous perversity of man, to forsake the Fountain, and hew cisterns! Let us come as little children to their father, and we shall find a most gracious reception. Pray for me, that the anointing which teacheth all things may be poured out abundantly upon me, who am nothing, have nothing, and can do nothing of myself; but Jesus is all in all. THE hidden life is a great mystery, and the cross which lies in the way to it a great stumbling-block. The simple life of Jesus, who emptied hinself, and took upon him the form of a servant, and made himself lower than the lowest and least of all, is not pleasing to the men of this world. They cannot see that underneath the mean attire of poverty the Spirit of God loves to dwell. They do not look upon the cross, but with horror and affrightment as the worst of evils. They deem retirement a curse, and would rather part with life than part with the world. But it is in retirement we learn to bear the cross patiently, lovingly, joyfully, and at length become poor indeed, so poor as to have nothing at all. This retirement, however, is not that of the body, but of the soul. It is only in the vast solitude |