His foundation is in the holy mountains. The Lord loveth the gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob. Glorious things are spoken of thee, O city of God. Selah.—Ps. 87, 1-3.

The history of the Christian Church may be expressed in three words—Formation, Deformation, and Reformation. The first period begins with the story of the shepherds on Bethlehem's plains on Christmas night 1912 years ago, and ended with the establishment of the Church in cultured Europe and Asia and Africa.

As we pass the main occurrences of that first epoch of its formation, before our mind's eye, we see how the infant cause of Christ spreads from Jerusalem round about to the surrounding countries, conquering and to conquer. See how in her course of advancement she meets with opposition the fiercest and bloodiest; see how the blood of her children wets the sands of the amphitheater, and how their bones are crushed by the lions and wild animals of the arena, whilst the ashes of thousands of others strew the funeral pile upon which they died praying, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit."

Those were the days of persecution, when the church was despised and rejected of men. And yet, in the indestructibility of her life she overcame that opposition. Yea, as one said, "the very blood of the martyrs was the seed grain of her progress." Before the preaching of Christ fadeth the glories of heathenism, and where once stood in splendid magnificence the pagan temples of heathenish paganism was placed in its simple and sublime beauty the cross. The Galilean, the Carpenter's Son, God's Son, had conquered. The Church, in a word, had been established.

And then the view changes. A new period begins. Across the face of this period there is written in all directions one word. That word is Rome. It is Rome at the altar swinging the censer, Rome on the battlefield wielding the sword; it is Rome in the councils of kings, and Rome in the judge's seat; it is Rome in the professor's chair, and Rome in the children's nursery; it is Rome in the market stall telling what to sell, and Rome in the kitchen telling people what to eat and drink. It is Rome first, last, and all the time.

At Rome, styled the Holy City, the Mistress of the World, sat a triple-crowned dictator. Princes kissed his feet, and held the stirrups for him as he mounted his bediamoned horse. An emperor stands barefoot in the snow of his courtyard suing for forgiveness because he had dared to govern without his sanction, whilst his clergy, monks without number, swarmed in every place, all sworn to stand by him on peril of salvation, and themselves guarded from all reach of law for any crime they may commit. Gigantic, powerful, proud, wicked and wanton, haughty Rome, drunk with shocking abomination! That is the second period, the era of deformation.

Once more the view changes: Antichrist—for none else is the pope—is assailed by a poor, unknown monk in far-away Saxony. "Who minds a monk? 'Tis nothing." But, lo, the monk towers like a giant, and German princes are by his side, while a nation hangs on his lips. Tidings of great joy, like once from Bethlehem's plains, are again spreading from the little town of Wittenberg on the banks of the Elbe. Ninety-five theses nailed up by that monk against the church-door on the eve of October 31, 1517, are borne on the wings of the wind. How they talk about them in London, now in Copenhagen, now in the streets of Jerusalem. Men, women, youths, fearlessly give the lie to the priest whom they had dreaded too much before. Rome startled; she would use her old force. She would suppress the new teaching, which was nothing but the old truth repeated again. Of no avail! "She's judged. The deed is done." The Lord has smitten Antichrist with the breath of His mouth. The world is enjoying once more the pure and abundant Gospel preaching. A new life is upon the nations. The Church has entered upon another epoch. We call it the period of the Reformation. It is the topic of our concern and gathering to-day. And in order that we may duly grasp its meaning and appreciate its blessing, let us observe, on the basis of our text, The glory of the Lutheran Reformation and Church. That glory is threefold: I. a glory of foundation; II. a glory of possession; III. a glory of prospect. And may God help us understand and appreciate!

First, a glory of foundation. The psalmist, referring to the Old Testament Church, speaks of its foundation. So, too, the New Testament Church has its foundation. "Other foundation can no man lay," writes the Apostle, "than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ," the Son of God, God Himself. The work of redemption which He came into this world to perform is the foundation of our religion, our Church.

What our children learn from their Catechism: "I believe that Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, and also true man, born of the Virgin Mary, is my Lord, who has redeemed me, a lost and condemned creature, purchased and won me from all sins, from death and from the power of the devil,"—that is the heart and marrow of our faith, its foundation. This was the point Luther made in those ninety-five theses and in all the teachings, preaching, and writing that he did ever afterwards.

But does not the Church of Rome believe that too? My dear hearer, accompany me in spirit to one of their places of worship. It matters not in what direction we go, they are plentiful everywhere. We enter. Our Protestant eye looks for the Savior. Thank God He is still there. But what means that statue at His side—whose is it? Francis De Sales, St. Anthony of Padua, St. Vincent, St. Anna, St. Elizabeth. Have they forgotten the First Commandment which says: "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness to bow thyself down to them"? We look upon the assembled worshipers. What is it that they are holding in their hands, busily twisting the beads while their lips move in devotion? "Hail, Mary," they pray, "mother of God, queen of heaven." Why not Christ?—for there is only one Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus.

As we stand there in observation amid the striking of little gongs, there enters, gorgeously arrayed, a priest. "Why a priest?" We, in the New Testament, according to the Bible, know of only one Priest, and that is He of whom the Apostle says: "Such an High Priest became us who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners." What does the priest do? He is offering sacrifice, in an unbloody manner, for the sins of the people. They call it "mass." But does not the Bible teach that "by one sacrifice," viz., by His sacrifice upon Golgotha, "Christ hath forever perfected them that are sanctified"? Why, then, this mass? Do they think they can, as they claim, improve upon, perfect, that propitiatory sacrifice?

Or, while we are en route, let us transfer ourselves in spirit a little further; let us go for a few moments to Rome. There sits a man whom they style "Holy Father." God's Word says: "Ye shall call no man in religion your father nor master upon earth. One is your Father," even He who is in heaven. "One is your Master—" Christ. This man at Rome claims that he is the vicar of Christ upon earth, with power to rule both the Church and the world. But, says Christ, "My kingdom is not of this world," and I, even I, am its only Head. And not only so, but in how many innumerable ways does this man at Rome contradict Christ! Thus: Christ, through His Spirit, says: A bishop, a minister, ought to be the "husband of one wife." "The husband of no wife," contradicts the pope. "It is a great wrong for a priest to marry." "Abstaining from meats," forbidding people to eat what they choose and at any time they choose, is "a doctrine of the devil," says Christ through His Spirit. "It is a sin to eat meat on Friday and throughout Lent," says the pope. "You must diligently pray and liberally pay, and then shall the souls of your beloved ones come out of purgatory." There is no such place, is the teaching of Christ, for instance, when He spoke to the thief on the cross: "To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." "I have redeemed you with my holy, precious blood and with my innocent suffering and death." Let your only hope and constant prayer be:

"Not so," says the pope. "Heaven and salvation do not depend only upon what Christ has done, but much depends upon what $1 have done." "If any one saith," so reads the decree of Rome, "that we are justified, saved, by faith alone, let him be anathema—cursed." Your good works must help along. It is only as you do this and give that, buy indulgences, pay for some holy candles, appropriate of your earnings an adequate amount to the Church, remember it in your last will and testament, and set apart a certain sum for the reading of mass,—it is only thus that you can expect to die in peace and your soul find its way to heaven. Now, beloved, we leave it to the smallest child—is this making Christ the foundation? And it was against this that Luther protested in the ninety-five theses which he nailed up 395 years ago; and it is against this that we would raise our voices and pen. Jesus Christ and His work of redemption—He shall be our foundation. "Ave Marias?" No! Saints and popes? No!

Again, our Church not only glories in its foundation, but likewise in its possessions. And what does it possess? Look upon the imposing churches and cathedrals of Rome, those stupendous hospitals and institutions of one kind and another. What wealth of property, what revenues and revenues of silver and gold! Who will dispute that Rome is rich, possesses much? But since when are silver and gold and splendid edifices the marks of the Church? If those things constituted true churchliness, then none would have been more despicable than the early Christians, for they had no churches and worshiped in catacombs and the recesses of darkest forests. If pompous ceremonies and spectacular display and strains of fine music stand for the worship of God, the same might be seen and heard in Jewish temples.

Over against this, what possessions does our Church glory in? To mention a few. Open before us lies this holy Book, God's Book, accessible to all, inviting examination and study of its sacred pages, and that in a language not foreign, Latin, Greek, or Hebrew, but intelligible to all its hearers and readers. Rome would not so have it. It forbids its reading, and calls it a dangerous book. It adds to its infallible teachings the traditions of men, and wants all its pages read through the eye-glasses of the pope. It has always been, and still is, to them an "unknown" Book. You have, perchance, already seen the picture, quite familiar, which, beneath the title "Caught," represents an aged man and his little grandchild reading the Bible while some soldiers are seen entering the room to arrest them. The story that connects with it is this: Philip the Second of Spain and the Netherlands had sworn the pope that no Protestant should be allowed to live in his provinces. In a little town in Holland lived a good old man with his grandchild Bertha, who had become believers in the doctrines of the Reformation, and since the Bible was forbidden to be read and everywhere taken from the people, the only time for them to strengthen themselves with its sacred contents was the dead of night. They were just reading the fifth chapter of Matthew, wherein occur the words: "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," when a rough knock on the door tells them that the Roman spies had discovered them. "Grandfather," cries the child, "we are caught." "Yes, my child. God's hour seems at hand." And it was. The next moment the axes of the soldiers had battered down the door; the Bible was seized and burned, the aged man and his little granddaughter were hurried off to prison, and were tortured and afterward stretched on the rack until they died amid horrible pain. That is Rome's attitude toward the Bible. Thank God, then, for this blessed possession, a free Bible, which we read everywhere and at all times.

Then, too, there is the blessed Sacrament, not in its mutilated shape, the lay people deprived of the cup, but in both species. We possess that. Furthermore, our services. Take those stately and sublime hymns that are the inspiration and comfort of a Protestant Christian. The Romish Church knows them not, the people do not sing at their services. They are deprived of that. Then, when we pray—what a possession, the privilege of free, unlimited, and direct access to God's throne, without the intercession and intervention of priests and patron saints, but according to Christ's invitation and commandment: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Here, then, are a few of the many blessings we glory in, wrought and brought back to us through the Lutheran Reformation, and for which on this day we thank and praise God.

And now a few words yet as to the third part mentioned, the glory of prospect.—When Luther closed his eyes, our haughty enemies predicted the death of the Lutheran Church. As a Romish priest once said to a Lutheran peasant, "With your Church it will soon be 'Matthaei am letzten,'" that is, Matthew the last, which is a German expression meaning, "Things will soon be at an end with you." The peasant remarked, since he was acquainted with his Bible, "That's splendid!" In Matthew, the last chapter and the last verse, our Savior says: "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Our Church has come to stay, for it is Christ's Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against that. Great in membership, numbering millions of souls, spread throughout every people and nation, her faith proclaimed in nearly every dialect and tongue of earth, great is her prospect.

Take it in this land of ours. Men are awakening more and more to an appreciation of her history and progress and power. In this age of unsettling of creeds and of abandonment of time-honored convictions, in the age of sensationalism and of pulpits which have no messages, except those of political and sociological interest, the old Church of the Reformation stands where she ever stood. Mr. Roosevelt remarked while he was President of the United States: "The Lutheran Church is of very great power numerically and through the intelligence and thrift of its members; but it will grow steadily to even greater power. It is destined to be one of the two or three greatest in the United States."

If, then, to conclude, any of you have been ashamed of her, apologized for being Lutherans, perchance even been casting their eyes in other directions for church-fellowship, if any of us have not been as loyal as we ought to have been, neglected her glorious possessions, indifferent to the high blessings she affords in Word and Sacrament and services, let him and her reflect and amend.

May it be our heartfelt conviction and determination:—