For these reasons, therefore, he led the exiles to a dismal, swampy stretch of ground about a mile from the village; and told them for the present to rest their bones in an old unfinished farmhouse {June 8th, 1722.}. The spot itself was dreary and bleak, but the neighbouring woods of pines and beeches relieved the bareness of the scene. It was part of Zinzendorf's estate, and lay at the top of a gentle slope, up which a long avenue now leads. It was a piece of common pasture ground, and was therefore known as the Hutberg,73 or Watch-Hill. It was on the high road from Lbau to Zittau; it was often used as a camping ground by gypsies and other pedlars; and the road was in such a disgusting state that wagons sometimes sank axle deep in the mud. For the moment the refugees were sick at heart.

"Where," said Mrs. Augustin Neisser, "shall we find bread in this wilderness?"

"If you believe," said Godfrey Marche, tutor to Lady Gersdorf's granddaughters, "you shall see the glory of God."

The steward was quite concerned for the refugees. As he strolled around inspecting the land he noticed one particular spot where a thick mist was rising; and concluding that there a spring was sure to be found, he offered a prayer on their behalf, and registered the solemn vow, "Upon this spot, in Thy name, I will build for them the first house." He laid their needs before Lady Gersdorf, and the good old poetess kindly sent them a cow; he inspected the site with Christian David, and marked the trees he might fell; and thus encouraged, Christian David seized his axe, struck it into a tree, and, as he did so, exclaimed, "Yea, the sparrow hath found a house, and the swallow a nest for herself."74 {June 17th, 1722.}

The first step in the building of Herrnhut had been taken. For some weeks the settlers had still to eat the bread of bitterness and scorn. It was long before they could find a spring of water. The food was poor, the children fell ill; the folk in the neighbourhood laughed; and even when the first house was built they remarked that it would not be standing long.

But already Christian David had wider plans. Already in vivid imagination he saw a goodly city rise, mapped out the courts and streets in his mind, and explained his glowing schemes to the friendly Heitz. The steward himself was carried away with zeal. The very name of the hill was hailed as a promising omen. "May God grant," wrote Heitz to the Count, "that your excellency may be able to build on the hill called the Hutberg a town which may not only itself abide under the Lord's Watch (Herrnhut), but all the inhabitants of which may also continue on the Lord's Watch, so that no silence may be there by day or night." It was thus that Herrnhut received the name which was soon to be famous in the land; and thus that the exiles, cheered anew, resolved to build a glorious City of God.

"We fear," they wrote to the Count himself, "that our settling here may be a burden to you; and therefore we most humbly entreat you to grant us your protection, to continue to help us further still, and to show kindness and love to us poor distressed and simple-minded petitioners."

As the building of the first house proceeded the pious Heitz grew more and more excited. He drove in the first nail; he helped to fix the first pillar; and, finally, when the house was ready, he opened it in solemn religious style, and preached a sort of prophetic sermon about the holy city, the new Jerusalem coming down from God out of heaven. The Count himself soon blessed the undertaking. As he drove along, one winter night, on the road from Strahwalde to Hennersdorf, he saw a strange light shining through the trees {Dec. 2nd.}. He asked what the light could mean. There, he was told, the Moravian refugees had built the first house on his estate. He stopped the carriage, entered the house, assured the inmates of his hearty goodwill, fell down on his knees, and commended the enterprise to the care of God.

Again the restless David was on the move. As he knelt one day to fix a plank in the new manor-house which Zinzendorf was building in the village, it suddenly flashed on his busy brain that he ought to do something out of the common to show his gratitude to God {1723.}. His wife had just passed through a dangerous illness; he had vowed to God that if she recovered he would go to Moravia again; and, throwing down his tools on the spot, he darted off in his working clothes, and without a hat on his head, and made his way once more to Sehlen, the old home of the Neissers. He brought a letter from the Neissers in his pocket; he urged the rest of the family to cross the border; and the result was that before many days were gone a band of eighteen more emigrants were on their way to Herrnhut.

His next step had still more momentous results. As he made his way from town to town, and urged his friends to come to "David's City," he had no further aim than to find a home where Protestants could live in peace and comfort. He knew but little, if anything at all, of the old Church of the Brethren; he had never been a member of that Church himself; he had no special interest in her welfare; and the emigrants whom he had brought to Herrnhut were mostly evangelical folk who had been awakened by the preaching of the Pietist pastor, Steinmetz, of Teschen. But now, in the village of Zauchtenthal, he found a band of five young men whose bosoms glowed with zeal for the ancient Church. They were David Nitschmann I., the Martyr; David Nitschmann II., the first Bishop of the Renewed Church; David Nitschmann III., the Syndic; Melchior Zeisberger, the father of the apostle to the Indians; and John Toeltschig, one of the first Moravian preachers in Yorkshire. They were genuine sons of the Brethren; they used the Catechism of Comenius; they sang the Brethren's hymns in their homes; and now they were looking wistfully forward to the time when the Church would renew her strength like the eagle's. For some months they had made their native village the centre of an evangelical revival. At last events in the village came to a crisis; the young men were summoned before the village judge; and the judge, no other than Toeltschig's father, commanded them to close their meetings, and to take their share, like decent fellows, in the drunken jollifications at the public-house. For the brave "Five Churchmen" there was now no way but one. Forthwith they resolved to quit Moravia, and seek for other Brethren at Lissa, in Poland {May 2nd, 1724.}; and the very next night they set out on their journey, singing the Moravian Emigrants' song:—

Blessed be the day when I must roam, Far from my country, friends and home, An exile poor and mean; My father's God will be my guide, Will angel guards for me provide, My soul in dangers screen. Himself will lead me to a spot Where, all my cares and griefs forgot, I shall enjoy sweet rest. As pants for cooling streams the hart, I languish for my heavenly part, For God, my refuge blest.

For them the chosen haven of rest was Lissa. There the great Comenius had taught; and there, they imagined, Brethren lingered still. As they had, however, heard a good deal from David of the "town" being built at Herrnhut, they resolved to pay a passing call on their way. At Lower Wiese they called on Pastor Schwedler. He renewed their zeal for the Church in glowing terms.

"My children," he said, "do you know whose descendants you are? It is a hundred years since the persecutions began against your fathers. You are now to enjoy among us that liberty of conscience for the sake of which they shed their blood. We shall see you blossom and flourish in our midst."

It was a memorable day when they arrived at Herrnhut {May 12th, 1724.}. The first sight of the holy city did not impress them. The excited David had painted a rosy picture. They expected to find a flourishing town, and all they saw was three small houses, of which only one was finished.

"If three houses make a city," said David Nitschmann, "there are worse places than Herrnhut."

And yet there was something to look at after all. At a little distance from the three small houses, sat Friedrich de Watteville on a log of wood; Christian David was working away at another building; in the afternoon the Count and Countess appeared; and the Count then laid the foundation stone of a college for noblemen's sons. They stayed to see the ceremony. They heard the Count deliver an impressive speech. They heard de Watteville offer a touching prayer. They saw him place his jewels under the stone. They were touched; they stayed; and became the firmest pillars of the rising temple.

And now the stream from Moravia increased in force and volume. Again and again, ten times in all, did the roving David journey to the Moravian dales; and again and again did the loud blast of the trombones in the square announce that yet another band of refugees had arrived. Full many a stirring and thrilling tale had the refugees to tell; how another David Nitschmann, imprisoned in a castle, found a rope at his window and escaped; how David Schneider and another David Nitschmann found their prison doors open; how David Hickel, who had been nearly starved in a dungeon, walked out between his guards in broad daylight, when their backs were turned; how Andrew Beier and David Fritsch had stumbled against their prison door and found that the bolt was loose; how Hans Nitschmann, concealed in a ditch, heard his pursuers, a foot off, say, "This is the place, here he must be," and yet was not discovered after all. No wonder these wanderers felt that angels had screened them on their way. For the sake of their faith they had been imprisoned, beaten, thrust into filthy dungeons. For the sake of their faith they had left behind their goods, their friends, their worldly prospects, had tramped the unknown mountain paths, had slept under hedges, had been attacked by robbers. And now, for the sake of this same faith, these men, though sons of well-to-do people, settled down to lives of manual toil in Herrnhut. And the numbers swelled; the houses rose; and Herrnhut assumed the shape of a hollow square.

At this point, however, a difficulty arose. As the rumour spread in the surrounding country that the Count had offered his estate as an asylum for persecuted Protestants all sorts of religious malcontents came to make Herrnhut their home. Some had a touch of Calvinism, and were fond of discussing free will and predestination; some were disciples of the sixteenth century Anabaptist mystic, Casper Schwenkfeld; some were vague evangelicals from Swabia; some were Lutheran Pietists from near at hand; and some, such as the "Five Churchmen," were descendants of the Brethren's Church, and wished to see her revived on German soil. The result was dissension in the camp. As the settlement grew larger things grew worse. As the settlers learned to know each other better they learned to love each other less. As poverty crept in at the door love flew out of the window. Instead of trying to help each other, men actually tried to cut each other out in business, just like the rest of the world. As the first flush of joy died away, men pointed out each other's motes, and sarcasm pushed charity from her throne; and, worse than all, there now appeared that demon of discord, theological dispute. The chief leader was a religious crank, named Krger. He was, of course, no descendant of the Brethren's Church. He had quarrelled with a Lutheran minister at Ebersdorf, had been promptly excluded from the Holy Communion, and now came whimpering to Herrnhut, and lifted up his voice against the Lutheran Church. he did not possess the garment of righteousness, he decked himself out with sham excitement and rhetoric; and, as these are cheap ribbons and make a fine show, he soon gained a reputation as a saint. He announced that he had been commissioned by God with the special task of reforming Count Zinzendorf; described Rothe as the "False Prophet" and Zinzendorf as "The Beast"; denounced the whole Lutheran Church as a Babylon, and summoned all in Herrnhut to leave it; and altogether made such a show of piety and holy devotion to God that his freaks and crotchets and fancies and vagaries were welcomed by the best of men, and poisoned the purest blood. His success was marvellous. As the simple settlers listened to his rapt orations they became convinced that the Lutheran Church was no better than a den of thieves; and the greater number now refused to attend the Parish Church, and prepared to form a new sect. Christian David himself was led away. He walked about like a shadow; he was sure that Krger had a special Divine revelation; he dug a private well for himself, and built himself a new house a few yards from the settlement, so that he might not be smirched by the pitch of Lutheran Christianity. Worse and ever worse waxed the confusion. More "horrible"75 became the new notions. The eloquent Krger went out of his mind; and was removed to the lunatic asylum at Berlin. But the evil that he had done lived after him. The whole city on the hill was now a nest of fanatics. It was time for the Count himself to interfere.

For the last five years, while Herrnhut was growing, the Count had almost ignored the refugees; and had quietly devoted his leisure time to his darling scheme of establishing a village "Church within the Church" at Berthelsdorf. He had still his official State duties to perform. He was still a King's Councillor at Dresden. He spent the winter months in the city and the summer at his country-seat; and as long as the settlers behaved themselves as loyal sons of the Lutheran Church he saw no reason to meddle in their affairs. He had, moreover, taken two wise precautions. He had first issued a public notice that no refugee should settle at Herrnhut unless compelled by persecution; and secondly, he had called a meeting of the refugees themselves, and persuaded them to promise that in all their gatherings they would remain loyal to the Augsburg Confession.

Meanwhile, in the village itself, he had pushed his scheme with vigour. He named his house Bethel; his estate was his parish; and his tenants were his congregation. He had never forgotten his boyish vow to do all in his power to extend the Kingdom of Christ; and now he formed another society like the old Order of the Mustard Seed. It was called the "League of the Four Brethren"; it consisted of Zinzendorf, Friedrich de Watteville, and Pastors Rothe and Schfer; and its object was to proclaim to the world, by means of a league of men devoted to Christ, "that mystery and charm of the Incarnation which was not yet sufficiently recognized in the Church." He had several methods of work. As he wished to reach the young folk of noble rank, he had a school for noblemen's sons built on the Hutberg, and a school for noblemen's daughters down in the village; and the members of the League all signed an agreement to subscribe the needful funds for the undertaking. As he wished, further, to appeal to men in various parts of the country, he established a printing-office at Ebersdorf, and from that office sent books, pamphlets, letters, and cheap editions of the Bible in all directions. As he longed, thirdly, for personal contact with leading men in the Church, he instituted a system of journeys to Halle and other centres of learning and piety. But his best work was done in Berthelsdorf. His steward, Heitz, gave the rustics Bible lessons; Pastor Rothe preached awakening sermons in the parish church, and his preaching was, as the Count declared, "as though it rained flames from heaven"; and he himself, in the summer season, held daily singing meetings and prayer meetings in his own house. Hand in hand did he and Rothe work hard for the flock at Berthelsdorf. On a Sunday morning the pastor would preach a telling sermon in a crowded church; in the afternoon the squire would gather his tenants in his house and expound to them the morning's discourse. The whole village was stirred; the Church was enlarged; and the Count himself was so in earnest that if the slightest hitch occurred in a service he would burst into tears. While things in Herrnhut were growing worse things in Berthelsdorf were growing better; while stormy winds blew on the hill there was peace and fellowship down in the valley. How closely the Count and the pastor were linked may be seen from the following fact. The Count's family pew in the Church was a small gallery or raised box over the vestry; the box had a trap-door in the floor; the pastor, according to Lutheran custom, retired to the vestry at certain points in the service; and the Count, by opening the aforesaid door, could communicate his wishes to the pastor.

He had now to apply his principles to Herrnhut. As long as the settlers had behaved themselves well, and kept their promise to be loyal to the National Church, he had left them alone to follow their own devices; and even if they sang old Brethren's hymns at their meetings, he had no insuperable objection. But now the time had come to take stern measures. He had taken them in out of charity; he had invited them to the meetings in his house; and now they had turned the place into a nest of scheming dissenters. There was war in the camp. On the one hand, Christian David called Rothe a narrow-minded churchman. On the other hand, Rothe thundered from his pulpit against the "mad fanatics" on the hill. As Jew and Samaritan in days of old, so now were Berthelsdorf and Herrnhut.

At this critical point the Count intervened, and changed the duel into a duet {1727.}. He would have no makers of sects on his estate. With all their faults, he believed that the settlers were at bottom broad-minded people. Only clear away the rubbish and the gold would be found underneath.

"Although our dear Christian David," he said, "was calling me the Beast and Mr. Rothe the False Prophet, we could see his honest heart nevertheless, and knew we could lead him right. It is not a bad maxim," he added, "when honest men are going wrong to put them into office, and they will learn from experience what they will never learn from speculation."

He acted on that maxim now. He would teach the exiles to obey the law of the land, to bow to his authority as lord of the manor, and to live in Christian fellowship with each other. For this purpose, he summoned them all to a mass meeting in the Great House on the Hutberg {May 12th.}, lectured them for over three hours on the sin of schism, read out the "Manorial Injunctions and Prohibitions,"76 which all inhabitants of Herrnhut must promise to obey, and then submitted a number of "Statutes" as the basis of a voluntary religious society. The effect was sudden and swift. At one bound the settlers changed from a group of quarrelling schismatics to an organized body of orderly Christian tenants; and forthwith the assembled settlers shook hands, and promised to obey the Injunctions and Prohibitions.

As soon as the Count had secured good law and order he obtained leave of absence from Dresden, took up his residence at Herrnhut, and proceeded to organize all who wished into a systematic Church within the Church. For this purpose he prepared another agreement {July 4th.}, entitled the "Brotherly Union and Compact," signed the agreement first himself, persuaded Christian David, Pastor Schfer and another neighbouring clergyman to do the same, and then invited all the rest to follow suit. Again, the goodwill was practically universal. As the settlers had promised on May 12th to obey the Manorial Injunctions and Prohibitions, so now, of their own free will, they signed a promise to end their sectarian quarrels, to obey the "Statutes," and to live in fellowship with Christians of all beliefs and denominations. Thus had the Count accomplished a double purpose. As lord of the manor he had crushed the design to form a separate sect; and as Spener's disciple he had persuaded the descendants of the Bohemian Brethren to form another "Church within the Church."

Nor was this all. As the Brethren looked back in later years to those memorable days in Herrnhut, they came to regard the summer months of 1727 as a holy, calm, sabbatic season, when one and all were quickened and stirred by the power of the Spirit Divine. "The whole place," said Zinzendorf himself, "represented a visible tabernacle of God among men." For the next four months the city on the hill was the home of ineffable joy; and the very men who had lately quarrelled with each other now formed little groups for prayer and praise. As the evening shadows lengthened across the square the whole settlement met to pray and praise, and talk with each other, like brothers and sisters of one home. The fancies and vagaries fled. The Count held meetings every day. The Church at Berthelsdorf was crowded out. The good David, now appointed Chief Elder, persuaded all to study the art of love Divine by going through the First Epistle of St. John. The very children were stirred and awakened. The whole movement was calm, strong, deep and abiding. Of vulgar excitement there was none; no noisy meetings, no extravagant babble, no religious tricks to work on the emotions. For mawkish, sentimental religion the Count had an honest contempt. "It is," he said, "as easy to create religious excitement as it is to stir up the sensual passions; and the former often leads to the latter." As the Brethren met in each other's homes, or on the Hutberg when the stars were shining, they listened, with reverence and holy awe, to the still voice of that Good Shepherd who was leading them gently, step by step, to the green pastures of peace.

Amid the fervour the Count made an announcement which caused every cheek to flush with new delight. He had made a strange discovery. At Zittau, not far away, was a reference library; and there, one day, he found a copy of Comenius's Latin version of the old Brethren's "Account of Discipline." {July.} His eyes were opened at last. For the first time in his busy life he read authentic information about the old Church of the Brethren; and discovered, to his amazement and joy, that so far from being disturbers of the peace, with a Unitarian taint in their blood, they were pure upholders of the very faith so dear to his own heart.

His soul was stirred to its depths. "I could not," he said, "read the lamentations of old Comenius, addressed to the Church of England, lamentations called forth by the idea that the Church of the Brethren had come to an end, and that he was locking its door—I could not read his mournful prayer, 'Turn Thou us unto Thee, O Lord, and we shall be turned; renew our days as of old,' without resolving there and then: I, as far as I can, will help to bring about this renewal. And though I have to sacrifice my earthly possessions, my honours and my life, as long as I live I will do my utmost to see to it that this little flock of the Lord shall be preserved for Him until He come."

And even this was not the strangest part of the story. As the Count devoured the ancient treatise, he noticed that the rules laid down therein were almost the same as the rules which he had just drawn up for the refugees at Herrnhut. He returned to Herrnhut, reported his find, and read the good people extracts from the book {Aug. 4th.}. The sensation was profound. If this was like new milk to the Count it was like old wine to the Brethren; and again the fire of their fathers burned in their veins.

And now the coping stone was set on the temple {Aug. 13th.}. As the Brethren were learning, step by step, to love each other in true sincerity, Pastor Rothe now invited them all to set the seal to the work by coming in a body to Berthelsdorf Church, and there joining, with one accord, in the celebration of the Holy Communion. The Brethren accepted the invitation with joy. The date fixed was Monday, August 13th. The sense of awe was overpowering. As the Brethren walked down the slope to the church all felt that the supreme occasion had arrived; and all who had quarrelled in the days gone by made a covenant of loyalty and love. At the door of the church the strange sense of awe was thrilling. They entered the building; the service began; the "Confession" was offered by the Count; and then, at one and the same moment, all present, rapt in deep devotion, were stirred by the mystic wondrous touch of a power which none could define or understand. There, in Berthelsdorf Parish Church, they attained at last the firm conviction that they were one in Christ; and there, above all, they believed and felt that on them, as on the twelve disciples on the Day of Pentecost, had rested the purifying fire of the Holy Ghost.

"We learned," said the Brethren, "to love." "From that time onward," said David Nitschmann, "Herrnhut was a living Church of Jesus Christ. We thank the Lord that we ever came to Herrnhut, instead of pressing on, as we intended, to Poland."

And there the humble Brother spoke the truth. As the Brethren returned that evening to Herrnhut, they felt within them a strength and joy they had never known before. They had realised their calling in Christ. They had won the Divine gift of Christian union. They had won that spirit of brotherly love which only the great Good Spirit could give. They had won that sense of fellowship with Christ, and fellowship with one another, which had been the costliest gem in the days of their fathers; and therefore, in future, they honoured the day as the true spiritual birthday of the Renewed Church of the Brethren. It is useless trying to express their feelings in prose. Let us listen to the moving words of the Moravian poet, James Montgomery:—

They walked with God in peace and love, But failed with one another; While sternly for the faith they strove, Brother fell out with brother; But He in Whom they put their trust, Who knew their frames, that they were dust, Pitied and healed their weakness.

He found them in His house of prayer, With one accord assembled, And so revealed His presence there, They wept for joy and trembled; One cup they drank, one bread they brake, One baptism shared, one language spake, Forgiving and forgiven.

Then forth they went, with tongues of flame, In one blest theme delighting, The love of Jesus and His Name, God's children all uniting! That love, our theme and watchword still; That law of love may we fulfil, And love as we are loved.

The next step was to see that the blessing was not lost {Aug. 27th.}. For this purpose the Brethren, a few days later, arranged a system of Hourly Intercession. As the fire on the altar in the Jewish Temple was never allowed to go out, so the Brethren resolved that in this new temple of the Lord the incense of intercessory prayer should rise continually day and night. Henceforth, Herrnhut in very truth should be the "Watch of the Lord." The whole day was carefully mapped out, and each Brother or Sister took his or her turn. Of all the prayer unions ever organized surely this was one of the most remarkable. It is said to have lasted without interruption for over a hundred years.



CHAPTER IV.

LIFE AT HERRNHUT.

As we study the social and religious system which now developed at Herrnhut, it is well to bear in mind the fact that when the Count, as lord of the manor, first issued his "Injunctions and Prohibitions," he was not aware that, in so doing, he was calling back to life once more the discipline of the old Bohemian Brethren. He had not yet read the history of the Brethren, and he had not yet studied Comenius's "Account of Discipline." He knew but little of the Brethren's past, and the little that he knew was wrong; and, having no other plan to guide him, he took as his model the constitution lying ready to hand in the average German village of the day, and adapted that simple constitution to the special needs of the exiles.77 He had no desire to make Herrnhut independent. It was still to be a part of his estate, and conform to the laws of the land; and still to be the home of a "Church within the Church," as planned by Luther long ago in his famous German Mass.

First, then the Count laid down the rule that all male adults in Herrnhut, no matter to what sect they might belong, should have a voice in the election of twelve Elders; and henceforward these twelve Elders, like those in the neighbouring estates of Silesia, had control over every department of life, and enforced the Injunctions and Prohibitions with an iron hand. They levied the usual rates and taxes to keep the streets and wells in order. They undertook the care of widows and orphans. They watched the relations of single young men and women. They kept a sharp eye on the doings at the inn. They called to order the tellers of evil tales; and they banished from Herrnhut all who disobeyed the laws, or conducted themselves in an unbecoming, frivolous or offensive manner.

The power of the Elders was enormous. If a new refugee desired to settle in Herrnhut, he must first obtain permission from the Elders. If a settler desired to go on a journey, he must first obtain permission from the Elders. If a man desired to build a house; if a trader desired to change his calling; if an apprentice desired to leave his master; if a visitor desired to stay the night, he must first obtain permission from the Elders. If a man fell in love and desired to marry, he must first obtain the approval of the Elders; and until that approval had been obtained, he was not allowed to propose to the choice of his heart. Let us see the reason for this remarkable strictness.

As the Brethren settled down in Herrnhut, they endeavoured, under the Count's direction, to realize the dignity of labour. For rich and poor, for Catholic and Protestant, for all able-bodied men and women, the same stern rule held good. If a man desired to settle at Herrnhut, the one supreme condition was that he earned his bread by honest toil, and lived a godly, righteous and sober life. For industrious Catholics there was a hearty welcome; for vagabonds, tramps and whining beggars there was not a bed to spare. If a man would work he might stay, and worship God according to his conscience; but if he was lazy, he was ordered off the premises. As the Brethren met on Sunday morning for early worship in the public hall, they joined with one accord in the prayer, "Bless the sweat of the brow and faithfulness in business"; and the only business they allowed was business which they could ask the Lord to bless. To them work was a sacred duty, a delight and a means for the common good. If a man is blessed who has found his work, then blessed were the folk at Herrnhut. "We do not work to live," said the Count; "we live to work." The whole aim was the good of each and the good of all. As the grocer stood behind his counter, or the weaver plied his flying shuttle, he was toiling, not for himself alone, but for all his Brethren and Sisters. If a man desired to set up in business, he had first to obtain the permission of the Elders; and the Elders refused to grant the permission unless they thought that the business in question was needed by the rest of the people. "No brother," ran the law at Herrnhut, "shall compete with his brother in trade." No man was allowed to lend money on interest without the consent of the Elders. If two men had any dispute in business, they must come to terms within a week; and if they did not, or went to law, they were expelled. If a man could buy an article in Herrnhut, he was not allowed to buy it anywhere else.

It is easy to see the purpose of these regulations. They were an attempt to solve the social problem, to banish competition, and to put co-operation in its place. For some years the scheme was crowned with glorious success. The settlement grew; the trade flourished; the great firm of Drninger obtained a world-wide reputation; the women were skilled in weaving and spinning; and the whole system worked so well that in 1747 the Saxon Government besought the Count to establish a similar settlement at Barby. At Herrnhut, in a word, if nowhere else, the social problem was solved. There, at least, the aged and ill could live in peace and comfort; there grim poverty was unknown; there the widow and orphan were free from carking care; and there men and women of humble rank had learned the truth that when men toil for the common good there is a perennial nobleness in work.78

For pleasure the Brethren had neither time nor taste. They worked, on the average, sixteen hours a day, allowed only five hours for sleep, and spent the remaining three at meals and meetings. The Count was as Puritanic as Oliver Cromwell himself. For some reason he had come to the conclusion that the less the settlers knew of pleasure the better, and therefore he laid down the law that all strolling popular entertainers should be forbidden to enter the holy city. No public buffoon ever cracked his jokes at Herrnhut. No tight-rope dancer poised on giddy height. No barrel-dancer rolled his empty barrel. No tout for lotteries swindled the simple. No juggler mystified the children. No cheap-jack cheated the innocent maidens. No quack-doctor sold his nasty pills. No melancholy bear made his feeble attempt to dance. For the social joys of private life the laws were stricter still. At Herrnhut, ran one comprehensive clause, there were to be no dances whatever, no wedding breakfasts, no christening bumpers, no drinking parties, no funeral feasts, and no games like those played in the surrounding villages. No bride at Herrnhut ever carried a bouquet. No sponsor ever gave the new arrival a mug or a silver spoon.

For sins of the coarse and vulgar kind there was no mercy. If a man got drunk, or cursed, or stole, or used his fists, or committed adultery or fornication, he was expelled, and not permitted to return till he had given infallible proofs of true repentance. No guilty couple were allowed to "cheat the parson." No man was allowed to strike his wife, and no wife was allowed to henpeck her husband; and any woman found guilty of the latter crime was summoned before the board of Elders and reprimanded in public.

Again, the Count insisted on civil order. He appointed a number of other officials. Some, called servants, had to clean the wells, to sweep the streets, to repair the houses, and to trim the gardens. For the sick there was a board of sick waiters; for the poor a board of almoners; for the wicked a board of monitors; for the ignorant a board of schoolmasters; and each board held a conference every week. Once a week, on Saturday nights, the Elders met in Council; once a week, on Monday mornings, they announced any new decrees; and all inhabitants vowed obedience to them as Elders, to the Count as Warden, and finally to the law of the land. Thus had the Count, as lord of the manor, drawn up a code of civil laws to be binding on all. We have finished the Manorial Injunctions and Prohibitions. We come to the free religious life of the community.

Let us first clear a difficulty out of the way. As the Count was a loyal son of the Lutheran Church, and regarded the Augsburg Confession as inspired,79 it seems, at first sight, a marvellous fact that here at Herrnhut he allowed the Brethren to take steps which led ere long to the renewal of their Church. He allowed them to sing Brethren's Hymns; he allowed them to revive old Brethren's customs; he allowed them to hold independent meetings; and he even resolved to do his best to revive the old Church himself. His conduct certainly looked very inconsistent. If a man in England were to call himself a loyal member of the Anglican Church, and yet at the same time do his very best to found an independent denomination, he would soon be denounced as a traitor to the Church and a breeder of schism and dissent. But the Count's conduct can be easily explained. It was all due to his ignorance of history. He had no idea that the Bohemian Brethren had ever been an independent Church. He regarded them as a branch of the Reformed persuasion. He regarded them as a "Church within the Church," of the kind for which Luther had longed, and which Spener had already established. He held his delusion down to the end of his days; and, therefore, as Lutheran and Pietist alike, he felt at liberty to help the Brethren in all their religious endeavours.

For this purpose, therefore, he asked the settlers at Herrnhut to sign their names to a voluntary "Brotherly Union"; and the chief condition of the "Union" was that all the members agreed to live in friendship with Christians of other denominations, and also to regard themselves as members of the Lutheran Church. They attended the regular service at the Parish Church. There they took the Holy Communion; there they had their children baptized; and there the young people were confirmed.

Meanwhile the movement at Herrnhut was growing fast. The great point was to guard against religious poison. As the Count had a healthy horror of works of darkness, he insisted that no meetings should be held without a light; and the Brethren set their faces against superstition. They forbade ghost-stories; they condemned the popular old-wives' tales about tokens, omens and death-birds; they insisted that, in case of illness, no meddling busybody should interfere with the doctor; and thus, as homely, practical folk, they aimed at health of body and of mind.

But the chief object of their ambition was health of soul. As the revival deepened, the number of meetings increased. Not a day passed without three meetings for the whole congregation. At five in the morning they met in the hall, and joined in a chorus of praise. At the dinner hour they met again, and then, about nine o'clock, after supper, they sang themselves to rest. At an early period the whole congregation was divided into ninety unions for prayer, and each band met two or three times a week. The night was as sacred as the day. As the night-watchman went his rounds, he sang a verse at the hour, as follows:—

The clock is eight! to Herrnhut all is told, How Noah and his seven were saved of old, Hear, Brethren, hear! the hour of nine is come! Keep pure each heart, and chasten every home! Hear, Brethren, hear! now ten the hour-hand shows; They only rest who long for night's repose. The clock's eleven, and ye have heard it all, How in that hour the mighty God did call. It's midnight now, and at that hour you know, With lamp to meet the bridegroom we must go. The hour is one; through darkness steals the day; Shines in your hearts the morning star's first ray? The clock is two! who comes to meet the day, And to the Lord of days his homage pay? The clock is three! the Three in One above Let body, soul and spirit truly love. The clock is four! where'er on earth are three, The Lord has promised He the fourth will be. The clock is five! while five away were sent, Five other virgins to the marriage went! The clock is six, and from the watch I'm free, And every one may his own watchman be!

At this task all male inhabitants, over sixteen and under sixty, took their turn. The watchman, in the intervals between the hours, sang other snatches of sacred song; and thus anyone who happened to be lying awake was continually reminded of the presence of God.

On Sunday nearly every hour of the day was occupied by services. At five there was a short meeting, known as the "morning blessing." >From six to nine there were meetings for the several "choirs." At ten there was a special service for children. At eleven there was morning worship in the Parish Church. At one the Chief Elder gave a general exhortation. At three, or thereabouts, there was a meeting, called the "strangers' service," for those who had not been able to go to Church; and then the Count or some other layman repeated the morning sermon. At four there was another service at Berthelsdorf; at eight another service at Herrnhut; at nine the young men marched round the settlement singing hymns; and on Monday morning these wonderful folk returned to their labour like giants refreshed with new wine. Their powers of endurance were miraculous. The more meetings they had the more they seemed able to stand. Sometimes the good Pastor Schwedler, of Grlitz, would give them a sermon three hours long; and sometimes, commencing at six in the morning, he held his congregation enthralled till three in the afternoon.

Again, the Brethren listened day by day to a special message from God. We come now to the origin of the Moravian Text-book. As the Count was a great believer in variety, he very soon started the practice, at the regular evening singing meeting, of giving the people a short address on some Scriptural text or some verse from a hymn. As soon as the singing meeting was over he read out to the company the chosen passage, recommended it as a suitable subject for meditation the following day, and next morning had the text passed round by the Elders to every house in Herrnhut. Next year (1728) the practice was better organized. Instead of waiting for the Count to choose, the Elders selected in advance a number of texts and verses, and put them all together into a box; and then, each evening, one of the Elders put his hand into the box and drew the text for the following day. The idea was that of a special Providence. If Christ, said the Count, took a special interest in every one of His children, He would also take the same kindly interest in every company of believers; and, therefore, He might be safely trusted to guide the hand of the Elder aright and provide the "watchword" needed for the day. Again and again he exhorted the Brethren to regard the text for the day as God's special message to them; and finally, in 1731, he had the texts for the whole year printed, and thus began that Brethren's Text-book which now appears regularly every year, is issued in several tongues, and circulates, in every quarter of the globe, among Christians of all denominations.80

In order, next, to keep in touch with their fellow-Christians the Brethren instituted a monthly Saturday meeting, and that Saturday came to be known as "Congregation Day." {Feb. 10th, 1728.} At this meeting the Brethren listened to reports of evangelical work in other districts. Sometimes there would be a letter from a travelling Brother; sometimes a visitor from some far-distant strand. The meeting was a genuine sign of moral health. It fostered broadness of mind, and put an end to spiritual pride. Instead of regarding themselves as Pietists, superior to the average professing Christians, the Brethren now rejoiced to hear of the good done by others. They prayed not for their own narrow circle alone, but for all rulers, all churches, and all people that on earth do dwell; and delighted to sing old Brethren's hymns, treating of the Church Universal, such as John Augusta's "Praise God for ever" and "How amiable Thy tabernacles are." At this monthly meeting the Count was in his element. He would keep his audience enthralled for hours together. He would read them first a piece of news in vivid, dramatic style; then he would suddenly strike up a missionary hymn; then he would give them a little more information; and thus he taught them to take an interest in lands beyond the sea.

Another sign of moral health was the "Love-feast." As the Brethren met in each other's houses, they attempted, in quite an unofficial way, to revive the Agape of Apostolic times; and to this end they provided a simple meal of rye-bread and water, wished each other the wish, "Long live the Lord Jesus in our hearts," and talked in a free-and-easy fashion about the Kingdom of God. And here the Brethren were on their guard. In the days of the Apostles there had been scandals. The rich had brought their costly food, and the poor had been left to pine. At Herrnhut this scandal was avoided. For rich and poor the diet was the same, and came from a common fund; in later years it was white bread and tea; and in due time the Love-feast took the form of a meeting for the whole congregation.

Again, the Brethren were wonderfully simple-minded. As we read about their various meetings, it is clear that in their childlike way they were trying to revive the institutions of Apostolic times. For this purpose they even practised the ceremony of foot-washing, as described in the Gospel of St. John. To the Count the clear command of Christ was decisive. "If I then, your Lord and Master," said Jesus, "have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash one another's feet." What words, said the Count, could be more binding than these? "No man," he declared, "can read John xiii. without being convinced that this should be done." He revived the custom, and made it both popular and useful. The ceremony was generally performed by the young, before some special festival. It spread in time to England and Ireland, and was not abandoned till the early years of the nineteenth century81 (1818).

We come now to the origin of the "choirs." As Zinzendorf studied the Gospel story, he came to the conclusion that in the life of Jesus Christ there was something specially suitable to each estate in life. For the married people there was Christ, the Bridegroom of His Bride, the Church; for the single Brethren, the "man about thirty years of age"; for the single Sisters, the Virgin Mary; for the children, the boy in the temple asking questions. The idea took root. The more rapidly the settlement grew, the more need there was for division and organization. For each class the Master had a special message, and, therefore, each class must have its special meetings and study its special duties. For this purpose a band of single men—led by the ascetic Martin Linner, who slept on bare boards—agreed to live in one house, spent the evenings in united study, and thus laid the basis of the Single Brethren's Choir {Aug. 29th, 1728.}. For the same purpose the single young women, led by Anna Nitschmann, agreed to live in a "Single Sisters' House," and made a covenant with one another that henceforward they would not make matrimony the highest aim in life, but would rather, like Mary of Bethany, sit at the feet of Christ and learn of Him {May 4th, 1730.}. For the same purpose the married people met at a love-feast, formed the "married choir," and promised to lead a pure and holy life {Sept. 7th, 1733.}, "so that their children might be plants of righteousness." For the same purpose the children, in due time, were formed into a "children's choir." The whole aim was efficiency and order. At first the unions were voluntary; in time they became official.

As the years rolled on the whole congregation was systematically divided into ten "choirs," as follows:—The married choir, the widowers, the widows, the Single Brethren, the Single Sisters, the youths, the great girls, the little boys, the little girls, the infants in arms. Each choir had its own president, its own special services, its own festival day, its own love-feasts. Of these choirs the most important were those of the Single Brethren and Single Sisters. As the Brethren at Herrnhut were soon to be busy in evangelistic labours, they found it convenient to have in their ranks a number of men and women who were not bound down by family ties; and though the young people took no celibate vows, they often kept single through life for the sake of the growing cause.

The system invaded the sanctity of family life. As the Count was a family man himself, he very properly took the deepest interest in the training of little children; and, in season and out of season, he insisted that the children of Christian parents should be screened from the seductions of the world, the flesh and the devil. "It is nothing less than a scandal," he said, "that people think so little of the fact that their children are dedicated to the Lord. Children are little kings; their baptism is their anointing; and as kings they ought to be treated from the first." For this purpose he laid down the rule that all infants should be baptized in the hall, in the presence of the whole congregation; and as soon as the children were old enough to learn, he had them taken from their homes, and put the little boys in one school and the little girls in another. And thus the burden of their education fell not on the parents, but on the congregation.

Again, the Count carried out his ideas in the "vasty halls of death." Of all the sacred spots in Herrnhut there were none more sacred and more awe-inspiring than the "God's Acre" which the Brethren laid out on the Hutberg. There, in the bosom of Mother Earth, the same division into choirs was preserved. To the Count the tomb was a holy place. If a visitor ever came to Herrnhut, he was sure to take him to the God's Acre, and tell him the story of those whose bones awaited the resurrection of the just. The God's Acre became the scene of an impressive service {1733.}. At an early hour on Easter Sunday the Brethren assembled in the sacred presence of the dead, and waited for the sun to rise. As the golden rim appeared on the horizon, the minister spoke the first words of the service. "The Lord is risen," said the minister. "He is risen indeed!" responded the waiting throng. And then, in the beautiful language of Scripture, the Brethren joined in a solemn confession of faith. The trombones that woke the morning echoes led the anthem of praise, and one and all, in simple faith, looked onward to the glorious time when those who lay in the silent tomb should hear the voice of the Son of God, and be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. To the Brethren the tomb was no abode of dread. In a tomb the Lord Himself had lain; in a tomb His humble disciples lay "asleep"; and therefore, when a brother departed this life, the mourners never spoke of him as dead. "He is gone home," they said; and so death lost his sting.

Again, the Brethren had a strong belief in direct answers to prayer. It was this that led them to make such use of the "Lot." As soon as the first twelve Elders were elected, the Brethren chose from among the twelve a committee of four by Lot; and in course of time the Lot was used for a great variety of purposes. By the Lot, as we shall see later on, the most serious ecclesiastical problems were settled. By the Lot a sister determined her answer to an offer of marriage. By the Lot a call to service was given, and by the Lot it was accepted or rejected. If once the Lot had been consulted, the decision was absolute and binding. The prayer had been answered, the Lord had spoken, and the servant must now obey.82

We have now to mention but one more custom, dating from those great days. It is one peculiar to the Brethren's Church, and is known as the "Cup of Covenant." It was established by the Single Brethren, {1729.} and was based on the act of Christ Himself, as recorded in the Gospel of St. Luke. As the Master sat with His twelve disciples in the Upper Room at Jerusalem, we are told that just before the institution of the Lord's Supper,83 "He took the Cup and gave thanks, and said, 'Take this and divide it among yourselves'"; and now, in obedience to this command, this ardent band of young disciples made a covenant to be true to Christ, and passed the Cup from hand to hand. Whenever a young brother was called out to the mission field, the whole choir would meet and entrust him to Christ in this simple and scriptural way. It was the pledge at once of united service and united trust. It spread, in course of time, to the other choirs; it is practised still at the annual choir festivals; and its meaning is best expressed in the words of the Brethren's Covenant Hymn:—

Assembling here, a humble band, Our covenantal pledge to take, We pass the cup from hand to hand, From heart to heart, for His dear sake.

It remains to answer two important questions. As we study the life of the Herrnhut Brethren, we cannot possibly fail to notice how closely their institutions resembled the old institutions of the Bohemian Brethren. We have the same care for the poor, the same ascetic ideal of life, the same adherence to the word of Scripture, the same endeavour to revive Apostolic practice, the same semi-socialistic tendency, the same aspiration after brotherly unity, the same title, "Elder," for the leading officials, and the same, or almost the same, method of electing some of these officials by Lot. And, therefore, we naturally ask the question, how far were these Brethren guided by the example of their fathers? The reply is, not at all. At this early stage in their history the Moravian refugees at Herrnhut knew absolutely nothing of the institutions of the Bohemian Brethren.84 They had no historical records in their possession; they had not preserved any copies of the ancient laws; they brought no books but hymn-books across the border; and they framed their rules and organized their society before they had even heard of the existence of Comenius's "Account of Discipline." The whole movement at Herrnhut was free, spontaneous, original. It was not an imitation of the past. It was not an attempt to revive the Church of the Brethren. It was simply the result of Zinzendorf's attempt to apply the ideals of the Pietist Spener to the needs of the settlers on his estate.

The second question is, what was the ecclesiastical standing of the Brethren at this time? They were not a new church or sect. They had no separate ministry of their own. They were members of the Lutheran Church, regarded Rothe still as their Pastor, attended the Parish Church on Sundays, and took the Communion there once a month; and what distinguished them from the average orthodox Lutheran of the day was, not any peculiarity of doctrine, but rather their vivid perception of a doctrine common to all the Churches. As the Methodists in England a few years later exalted the doctrine of "conversion," so these Brethren at Herrnhut exalted the doctrine of the spiritual presence of Christ. To them the ascended Christ was all in all. He had preserved the "Hidden Seed." He had led them out from Moravia. He had brought them to a watch-tower. He had delivered them from the secret foe. He had banished the devouring demon of discord, had poured out His Holy Spirit upon them at their memorable service in the Parish Church, and had taught them to maintain the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. He was the "Bridegroom of the Soul," the "Blood Relation of His People," the "King's Son seeking for His Bride, the Church," the "Chief Elder pleading for the Church before God." And this thought of the living and reigning Christ was, therefore, the ruling thought among the Brethren. He had done three marvellous things for the sons of men. He had given His life as a "ransom" for sin, and had thereby reconciled them to God; He had set the perfect example for them to follow; He was present with them now as Head of the Church; and thus, when the Brethren went out to preach, they made His Sacrificial Death, His Holy Life, and His abiding presence the main substance of their Gospel message.



CHAPTER V.

THE EDICT OF BANISHMENT, 1729-1736.

But Zinzendorf was not long allowed to tread the primrose path of peace. As the news of his proceedings spread in Germany, many orthodox Lutherans began to regard him as a nuisance, a heretic, and a disturber of the peace; and one critic made the elegant remark: "When Count Zinzendorf flies up into the air, anyone who pulls him down by the legs will do him a great service." He was accused of many crimes, and had many charges to answer. He was accused of founding a new sect, a society for laziness; he was accused of holding strange opinions, opposed to the teaching of the Lutheran Church; he was accused of being a sham Christian, a sort of religious freak; and now he undertook the task of proving that these accusations were false, and of showing all fair-minded men in Germany that the Brethren at Herrnhut were as orthodox as Luther, as respected as the King, and as pious as good old Dr. Spener himself. His methods were bold and straightforward.

He began by issuing a manifesto {Aug. 12th, 1729.}, entitled the "Notariats-Instrument." As this document was signed by all the Herrnhut Brethren, they must have agreed to its statements; but, on the other hand, it is fairly certain that it was drawn up by Zinzendorf himself. It throws a flood of light on his state of mind. He had begun to think more highly of the Moravian Church. He regarded the Moravians as the kernel of the Herrnhut colony, and now he deliberately informed the public that, so far from being a new sect, these Moravians were descendants of an ancient Church. They were, he declared, true heirs of the Church of the Brethren; and that Church, in days gone by, had been recognized by Luther, Calvin and others as a true Church of Christ. In doctrine that Church was as orthodox as the Lutheran; in discipline it was far superior. As long, therefore, as the Brethren were allowed to do so, they would maintain their old constitution and discipline; and yet, on the other hand, they would not be Dissenters. They were not Hussites; they were not Waldenses; they were not Fraticelli; they honoured the Augsburg Confession; they would still attend the Berthelsdorf Parish Church; and, desirous of cultivating fellowship with all true Christians, they announced their broad position in the sentence: "We acknowledge no public Church of God except where the pure Word of God is preached, and where the members live as holy children of God." Thus Zinzendorf made his policy fairly clear. He wanted to preserve the Moravian Church inside the Lutheran Church!85

His next move was still more daring. He was a man of fine missionary zeal. As the woman who found the lost piece of silver invited her friends and neighbours to share in her joy, so Zinzendorf wished all Christians to share in the treasure which he had discovered at Herrnhut. He believed that the Brethren there were called to a world-wide mission. He wanted Herrnhut to be a city set on a hill. "I have no sympathy," he said, "with those comfortable people who sit warming themselves before the fire of the future life." He did not sit long before the fire himself. He visited the University of Jena, founded a society among the students, and so impressed the learned Spangenberg that that great theological scholar soon became a Brother at Herrnhut himself. He visited the University of Halle, and founded another society of students there. He visited Elmsdorf in Vogtland, and founded a society consisting of members of the family of Count Reuss. He visited Berleburg in Westphalia, made the acquaintance of John Conrad Dippel, and tried to lead that straying sheep back to the Lutheran fold. He visited Budingen in Hesse, discoursed on Christian fellowship to the "French Prophets," or "Inspired Ones," and tried to teach their hysterical leader, Rock, a little wisdom, sobriety and charity. He attended the coronation of Christian VI., King of Denmark, at Copenhagen, was warmly welcomed by His Majesty, received the Order of the Danebrog, saw Eskimos from Greenland and a negro from St. Thomas, and thus opened the door, as we shall see later on, for the great work of foreign missions. Meanwhile, he was sending messengers in all directions. He sent two Brethren to Copenhagen, with a short historical account of Herrnhut. He sent two others to London to see the Queen, and to open up negotiations with the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. He sent another to Sweden; others to Hungary and Austria; others to Switzerland; others to Moravia; others to the Baltic Provinces, Livonia and Esthonia. And everywhere his object was the same—the formation of societies for Christian fellowship within the National Church.

At this point, however, he acted like a fanatic, and manifested the first symptoms of that weak trait in his character which nearly wrecked his career. As he pondered one day on the state of affairs at Herrnhut, it suddenly flashed upon his mind that the Brethren would do far better without their ancient constitution. He first consulted the Elders and Helpers {Jan. 7th, 1731.}; he then summoned the whole congregation; and there and then he deliberately proposed that the Brethren should abolish their regulations, abandon their constitution, cease to be Moravians and become pure Lutherans. At that moment Zinzendorf was calmly attempting to destroy the Moravian Church. He did not want to see that Church revive. For some reason of his own, which he never explained in print, he had come to the conclusion that the Brethren would serve Christ far better without any special regulations of their own. But the Brethren were not disposed to meek surrender. The question was keenly debated. At length, however, both sides agreed to appeal to a strange tribunal. For the first time in the history of Herrnhut a critical question of Church policy was submitted to the Lot.86 The Brethren took two slips of paper and put them into a box. On the first were the words, "To them that are without law, as without law, that I might gain them that are without law," 1 Cor. ix. 21; on the second the words, "Therefore, Brethren, stand fast, and hold the traditions which ye have been taught," 2 Thess. ii. 15. At that moment the fate of the Church hung in the balance; the question at issue was one of life and death; and the Brethren spent a long time in anxious prayer. If the first slip of paper was drawn, the Church would cease to exist; if the second, she might still live by the blessing of God. Young Christel, Zinzendorf's son, now entered the room. He drew the second slip of paper, and the Moravian Church was saved. To Zinzendorf this was an event of momentous importance. As soon as that second slip of paper was drawn, he felt convinced that God had sanctioned the renewal of the Moravian Church.

Next year an event occurred to strengthen his convictions. A body of commissioners from Dresden appeared at Herrnhut {Jan. 19-22, 1732.}. They attended all the Sunday services, had private interviews with the Brethren, and sent in their report to the Saxon Government. The Count's conduct had excited public alarm. He had welcomed not only Moravians at Herrnhut, but Schwenkfelders at Berthelsdorf; and, therefore, he was now suspected of harbouring dangerous fanatics. For a long time the issue hung doubtful; but finally the Government issued a decree that while the Schwenkfelders must quit the land, the Moravians should be allowed to stay as long as they behaved themselves quietly {April 4th, 1733.}.

But Zinzendorf was not yet satisfied. He regarded the edict as an insult. The words about "behaving quietly" looked like a threat. As long as the Brethren were merely "tolerated," their peace was in constant danger; and a King who had driven out the Schwenkfelders might soon drive out the Herrnhuters. He was disgusted. At the time when the edict was issued, he himself was returning from a visit to Tbingen. He had laid the whole case of the Brethren before the Tbingen Theological Faculty. He had asked these theological experts to say whether the Brethren could keep their discipline and yet be considered good Lutherans; and the experts, in reply, had declared their opinion that the Herrnhut Brethren were as loyal Lutherans as any in the land. Thus the Brethren were standing now on a shaky floor. According to the Tbingen Theological Faculty they were good members of the National Church; according to the Government they were a "sect" to be tolerated!

Next year he adopted three defensive measures {1734.}. First, he divided the congregation at Herrnhut into two parts, the Moravian and the purely Lutheran; next, he had himself ordained as a Lutheran clergyman; and third, he despatched a few Moravians to found a colony in Georgia. He was now, he imagined, prepared for the worst. If the King commanded the Moravians to go, the Count had his answer ready. As he himself was a Lutheran clergyman, he would stay at Herrnhut and minister to the Herrnhut Lutherans; and the Moravians could all sail away to Georgia, and live in perfect peace in the land of the free.

Next year he made his position stronger still {1735.}. As the Moravians in Georgia would require their own ministers, he now had David Nitschmann consecrated a Bishop by Bishop Daniel Ernest Jablonsky (March 13th). The new Bishop was not to exercise his functions in Germany. He was a Bishop for the foreign field only; he sailed with the second batch of colonists for Georgia; and thus Zinzendorf maintained the Moravian Episcopal Succession, not from any sectarian motives, but because he wished to help the Brethren when the storm burst over their heads.

For what really happened, however, Zinzendorf was unprepared {1736.}. As he made these various arrangements for the Brethren, he entirely overlooked the fact that he himself was in greater danger than they. He was far more widely hated than he imagined. He was condemned by the Pietists because he had never experienced their sudden and spasmodic method of conversion. He offended his own relatives when he became a clergyman; he was accused of having disgraced his rank as a Count; he disgusted a number of other noblemen at Dresden; and the result of this strong feeling was that Augustus III., King of Saxony, issued an edict banishing Zinzendorf from his kingdom. He was accused in this Royal edict of three great crimes. He had introduced religious novelties; he had founded conventicles; and he had taught false doctrine. Thus Zinzendorf was banished from Saxony as a heretic. As soon, however, as the Government had dealt with Zinzendorf, they sent a second Commission to Herrnhut; and the second Commission came to the conclusion that the Brethren were most desirable Lutherans, and might be allowed to stay. Dr. Lscher, one of the commissioners, burst into tears. "Your doctrine," he said, "is as pure as ours, but we do not possess your discipline." At first sight this certainly looks like a contradiction, but the explanation is not far to seek. We find it in the report issued by the Commission. It was a shameless confession of mercenary motives. In that report the commissioners deliberately stated that if good workmen like the Brethren were banished from Herrnhut the Government would lose so much in taxes; and, therefore, the Brethren were allowed to stay because they brought grist to the mill. At the same time, they were forbidden to make any proselytes; and thus it was hoped that the Herrnhut heresy would die a natural death.

When Zinzendorf heard of his banishment, he was not amazed. "What matter!" he said. "Even had I been allowed by law, I could not have remained in Herrnhut at all during the next ten years." He had plans further afield. "We must now," he added, "gather together the Pilgrim Congregation and proclaim the Saviour to the World." It is true that the edict of banishment was repealed {1737.}; it is true that he was allowed to return to Herrnhut; but a year later a new edict was issued, and the Count was sternly expelled from his native land {1738.}.



CHAPTER VI.

THE FOREIGN MISSIONS AND THEIR INFLUENCE.

As young Leonard Dober lay tossing on his couch, his soul was disquieted within him {1731.}. He had heard strange news that afternoon, and sleep forsook his eyes. As Count Zinzendorf was on a visit to the court of Christian VI., King of Denmark, he met a West Indian negro slave, by name Antony Ulrich. And Antony was an interesting man. He had been baptized; he had been taught the rudiments of the Christian faith; he had met two other Brethren at the court; his tongue was glib and his imagination lively; and now he poured into Zinzendorf's ears a heartrending tale of the benighted condition of the slaves on the Danish island of St. Thomas. He spoke pathetically of his sister Anna, of his brother Abraham, and of their fervent desire to hear the Gospel.

"If only some missionaries would come," said he, "they would certainly be heartily welcomed. Many an evening have I sat on the shore and sighed my soul toward Christian Europe; and I have a brother and sister in bondage who long to know the living God."

The effect on Zinzendorf was electric. His mind was full of missionary visions. The story of Antony fired his zeal. The door to the heathen world stood open. The golden day had dawned. He returned to the Brethren at Herrnhut, arrived at two o'clock in the morning, and found that the Single Brethren were still on their knees in prayer. Nothing could be more encouraging. At the first opportunity he told the Brethren Antony's touching tale.

Again the effect was electric. As the Brethren met for their monthly service on "Congregation Day" they had often listened to reports of work in various parts of the Continent; already the Count had suggested foreign work; and already a band of Single Brethren (Feb. 11th, 1728) had made a covenant with each other to respond to the first clear sound of the trumpet call. As soon as their daily work was over, these men plunged deep into the study of medicine, geography, and languages. They wished to be ready "when the blessed time should come"; they were on the tiptoe of expectation; and now they were looking forward to the day when they should be summoned to cross the seas to heathen lands. The summons had sounded at last. To Leonard Dober the crisis of his life had come. As he tossed to and fro that summer night he could think about nothing but the poor neglected negroes, and seemed to hear a voice Divine urging him to arise and preach deliverance to the captives. Whence came, he asked, that still, small voice? Was it his own excited fancy, or was it the voice of God? As the morning broke, he was still unsettled in his mind. But already the Count had taught the Brethren to regard the daily Watch-Word as a special message from God. He consulted his text-book. The very answer he sought was there. "It is not a vain thing for you," ran the message, "because it is your life; and through this thing ye shall prolong your days."

And yet Dober was not quite convinced. If God desired him to go abroad He would give a still clearer call. He determined to consult his friend Tobias Leupold, and abide the issue of the colloquy; and in the evening the two young men took their usual stroll together among the brushwood clustering round the settlement. And then Leonard Dober laid bare his heart, and learned to his amazement that all the while Tobias had been in the same perplexing pass. What Dober had been longing to tell him, he had been longing to tell Dober. Each had heard the same still small voice; each had fought the same doubts; each had feared to speak his mind; and now, in the summer gloaming, they knelt down side by side and prayed to be guided aright. Forthwith the answer was ready. As they joined the other Single Brethren, and marched in solemn procession past Zinzendorf's house, they heard the Count remark to a friend, "Sir, among these young men there are missionaries to St. Thomas, Greenland, Lapland, and many other countries."

The words were inspiring. Forthwith the young fellows wrote to the Count and offered to serve in St. Thomas. The Count read the letter to the congregation, but kept their names a secret. The Brethren were critical and cold. As the settlers were mostly simple people, with little knowledge of the world beyond the seas, it was natural that they should shrink from a task which the powerful Protestant Churches of Europe had not yet dared to attempt. Some held the offer reckless; some dubbed it a youthful bid for fame and the pretty imagination of young officious minds. Antony Ulrich came to Herrnhut, addressed the congregation in Dutch, and told them that no one could be a missionary in St. Thomas without first becoming a slave. As the people knew no better they believed him. For a year the issue hung in the scales of doubt. The young men were resolute, confident and undismayed. If they had to be slaves to preach the Gospel, then slaves they would willingly be!87 At last Dober wrote in person to the congregation and repeated his resolve. The Brethren yielded. The Count still doubted. For the second time a momentous issue was submitted to the decision of the Lot.

"Are you willing," he asked Dober, "to consult the Saviour by means of the Lot?"

"For myself," replied Dober, "I am already sure enough; but I will do so for the sake of the Brethren."

A meeting was held; a box of mottoes was brought in; and Dober drew a slip of paper bearing the words: "Let the lad go, for the Lord is with him." The voice of the Lot was decisive. Of all the meetings held in Herrnhut, this meeting to hear the voice of the Lot was the most momentous in its world-wide importance. The young men were all on fire. If the Lot had only given the word they would now have gone to the foreign field in dozens. For the first time in the history of Protestant Europe a congregation of orthodox Christians had deliberately resolved to undertake the task of preaching the Gospel to the heathen. As the Lot which decided that Dober should go had also decided that his friend Leupold should stay, he now chose as his travelling companion the carpenter, David Nitschmann. The birthday of Moravian Missions now drew near. At three o'clock on the morning of August 21st, 1732, the two men stood waiting in front of Zinzendorf's house. The Count had spent the whole night in prayer. He drove them in his carriage as far as Bautzen. They alighted outside the little town, knelt down on the quiet roadside, engaged in prayer, received the Count's blessing by imposition of hands, bade him farewell, and set out Westward Ho!

As they trudged on foot on their way to Copenhagen, they had no idea that in so doing they were clearing the way for the great modern missionary movement; and, on the whole, they looked more like pedlars than pioneers of a new campaign. They wore brown coats and quaint three-cornered hats. They carried bundles on their backs. They had only about thirty shillings in their pockets. They had received no clear instructions from the Count, except "to do all in the Spirit of Jesus Christ." They knew but little of the social condition of St. Thomas. They had no example to follow; they had no "Society" to supply their needs; and now they were going to a part of the world where, as yet, a missionary's foot had never trod.

At Copenhagen, where they called at the court, they created quite a sensation. For some years there had existed there a National Missionary College. It was the first Reformed Missionary College in Europe. Founded by King Frederick IV., it was regarded as a regular department of the State. It had already sent Hans Egede to Greenland and Ziegenbalg to Tranquebar, on the Coromandel Coast; and it sent its men as State officials, to undertake the work of evangelisation as a useful part of the national colonial policy. But Dober and Nitschmann were on a different footing. If they had been the paid agents of the State they would have been regarded with favour; but as they were only the heralds of a Church they were laughed at as a brace of fools. For a while they met with violent opposition. Von Plesz, the King's Chamberlain, asked them how they would live.

"We shall work," replied Nitschmann, "as slaves among the slaves."

"But," said Von Plesz, "that is impossible. It will not be allowed. No white man ever works as a slave."

"Very well," replied Nitschmann, "I am a carpenter, and will ply my trade."

"But what will the potter do?"

"He will help me in my work."

"If you go on like that," exclaimed the Chamberlain, "you will stand your ground the wide world over."

The first thing was to stand their ground at Copenhagen. As the directors of the Danish West Indian Company refused to grant them a passage out they had now to wait for any vessel that might be sailing. The whole Court was soon on their side. The Queen expressed her good wishes. The Princess Amalie gave them some money and a Dutch Bible. The Chamberlain slipped some coins into Nitschmann's pocket. The Court Physician gave them a spring lancet, and showed them how to open a vein. The Court Chaplain espoused their cause, and the Royal Cupbearer found them a ship on the point of sailing for St. Thomas.

As the ship cast anchor in St. Thomas Harbour the Brethren realized for the first time the greatness of their task. There lay the quaint little town of Tappus, its scarlet roofs agleam in the noontide sun; there, along the silver beach, they saw the yellowing rocks; and there, beyond, the soft green hills were limned against the azure sky. There, in a word, lay the favoured isle, the "First Love of Moravian Missions." Again the text for the day was prophetic: "The Lord of Hosts," ran the gladdening watchword, "mustereth the host of the battle." As the Brethren stepped ashore next day they opened a new chapter in the history of modern Christianity. They were the founders of Christian work among the slaves. For fifty years the Moravian Brethren laboured in the West Indies without any aid from any other religious denomination. They established churches in St. Thomas, in St. Croix, in St. John's, in Jamaica, in Antigua, in Barbados, and in St. Kitts. They had 13,000 baptized converts before a missionary from any other Church arrived on the scene.

We pass to another field. As the Count was on his visit to the Court in Copenhagen, he saw two little Greenland boys who had been baptized by the Danish missionary, Hans Egede; and as the story of Antony Ulrich fired the zeal of Leonard Dober, so the story of Egede's patient labours aroused the zeal of Matthew Stach and the redoubtable Christian David {1733.}. In Greenland Egede had failed. In Greenland the Brethren succeeded. As they settled down among the people they resolved at first to be very systematic in their method of preaching the Gospel; and to this end, like Egede before them, they expounded to the simple Eskimo folk the whole scheme of dogmatic theology, from the fall of man to the glorification of the saint. The result was dismal failure. At last the Brethren struck the golden trail. The story is a classic in the history of missions. As John Beck, one balmy evening in June, was discoursing on things Divine to a group of Eskimos, it suddenly flashed upon his mind that, instead of preaching dogmatic theology he would read them an extract from the translation of the Gospels he was now preparing. He seized his manuscript. "And being in an agony," read John Beck, "He prayed more earnestly, and His sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground." At this Kajarnak, the brightest in the group, sprang forward to the table and exclaimed, "How was that? Tell me that again, for I, too, would be saved." The first Eskimo was touched. The power was the story of the Cross. From that moment the Brethren altered the whole style of their preaching. Instead of expounding dogmatic theology, they told the vivid human story of the Via Dolorosa, the Crown of Thorns, the Scourging, and the Wounded Side. The result was brilliant success. The more the Brethren spoke of Christ the more eager the Eskimos were to listen.

In this good work the leader was Matthew Stach. He was ordained a Presbyter of the Brethren's Church. He was officially appointed leader of the Greenland Mission. He was recognized by the Danish College of Missions. He was authorized by the King of Denmark to baptize and perform all sacerdotal functions. His work was methodical and thorough. In order to teach the roving Eskimos the virtues of a settled life, he actually took a number of them on a Continental tour, brought them to London, presented them, at Leicester House, to King George II., the Prince of Wales, and the rest of the Royal Family, and thus imbued them with a love of civilisation. At New Herrnhut, in Greenland, he founded a settlement, as thoroughly organised as Herrnhut in Saxony. He built a church, adorned with pictures depicting the sufferings of Christ. He taught the people to play the violin. He divided the congregation into "choirs." He showed them how to cultivate a garden of cabbages, leeks, lettuces, radishes and turnips. He taught them to care for all widows and orphans. He erected a "Brethren's House" for the "Single Brethren" and a "Sisters' House" for the "Single Sisters." He taught them to join in worship every day. At six o'clock every morning there was a meeting for the baptized; at eight a public service for all the settlers; at nine the children repeated their catechism and then proceeded to morning school; and then, in the evening, when the men had returned with their bag of seals, there was a public preaching service in the church. And at Lichtenfels and Lichtenau the same sort of work was done.

We pass on to other scenes, to Dutch Guinea or Surinam. As the Dutch were still a great colonial power, they had plenty of opportunity to spread the Gospel; and yet, except in India, they had hitherto not lifted a finger in the cause of foreign missions. For the most part the Dutch clergy took not the slightest interest in the subject. They held bigoted views about predestination. They thought that Christ had died for them, but not for Indians and negroes. As the Brethren, however, were good workmen, it was thought that they might prove useful in the Colonies; and so Bishop Spangenberg found it easy to make an arrangement with the Dutch Trading Company, whereby the Brethren were granted a free passage, full liberty in religion, and exemption from the oath and military service {1734.}. But all this was little more than pious talk. As soon as the Brethren set to work the Dutch pastors opposed them to the teeth. At home and abroad it was just the same. At Amsterdam the clergy met in Synod, and prepared a cutting "Pastoral Letter," condemning the Brethren's theology; and at Paramaribo the Brethren were forbidden to hold any meetings at all. But the Brethren did not stay very long in Paramaribo. Through three hundred miles of jungle and swamp they pressed their way, and came to the homes of the Indian tribes; to the Accawois, who earned their living as professional assassins; to the Warrows, who wallowed in the marshes; to the Arawaks, or "Flour People," who prepared tapioca; to the Caribs, who sought them that had familiar spirits and wizards that peep and mutter. "It seems very dark," they wrote to the Count, "but we will testify of the grace of the Saviour till He lets the light shine in this dark waste." For twenty years they laboured among these Indian tribes; and Salomo Schumann, the leader of the band, prepared an Indian dictionary and grammar. One story flashes light upon their labours. As Christopher Dhne, who had built himself a hut in the forest, was retiring to rest a snake suddenly glided down upon him from the roof, bit him twice or thrice, and coiled itself round his body. At that moment, the gallant herald of the Cross, with death staring him in the face, thought, not of himself, but of the people whom he had come to serve. If he died as he lay the rumour might spread that some of the natives had killed him; and, therefore, he seized a piece of chalk and wrote on the table, "A serpent has killed me." But lo! the text flashed suddenly upon him: "They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them." He seized the serpent, flung it from him, lay down to sleep in perfect peace, and next morning went about his labours.

We pass now to South Africa, the land of the Boers. For the last hundred years South Africa had been under the rule of the Dutch East India Company; and the result was that the Hottentots and Kaffirs were still as heathen as ever. For their spiritual welfare the Boers cared absolutely nothing. They were strong believers in predestination; they believed that they were elected to grace and the Hottentots elected to damnation; and, therefore, they held it to be their duty to wipe the Hottentots off the face of the earth. "The Hottentots," they said, "have no souls; they belong to the race of baboons." They called them children of the devil; they called them "black wares," "black beasts," and "black cattle"; and over one church door they painted the notice "Dogs and Hottentots not admitted." They ruined them, body and soul, with rum and brandy; they first made them merry with drink, and then cajoled them into unjust bargains; they shot them down in hundreds, and then boasted over their liquor how many Hottentots they had "potted." "With one hundred and fifty men," wrote the Governor, Van Ruibeck, in his journal, "11,000 head of black cattle might be obtained without danger of losing one man; and many savages might be taken without resistance to be sent as slaves to India, as they will always come to us unarmed. If no further trade is to be expected with them, what should it matter much to take six or eight thousand beasts from them." But the most delightful of all Boer customs was the custom of flogging by pipes. If a Hottentot proved a trifle unruly, he was thrashed, while his master, looking on with a gluttonous eye, smoked a fixed number of pipes; and the wreathing smoke and the writhing Hottentot brought balm unto his soul.

And now to this hell of hypocrisy and villainy came the first apostle to the natives. As the famous Halle missionary, Ziegenbalg, was on his way to the Malabar Coast he touched at Cape Town, heard something of the abominations practised, was stirred to pity, and wrote laying the case before two pastors in Holland. The two pastors wrote to Herrnhut; the Herrnhut Brethren chose their man; and in less than a week the man was on his way. George Schmidt was a typical Herrnhut brother. He had come from Kunewalde, in Moravia, had lain six years in prison, had seen his friend, Melchior Nitschmann, die in his arms, and watched his own flesh fall away in flakes from his bones. For twelve months he had now to stay in Amsterdam, first to learn the Dutch language, and secondly to pass an examination in orthodox theology. He passed the examination with flying colours. He received permission from the "Chamber of Seventeen" to sail in one of the Dutch East India Company's ships. He landed at Cape Town. His arrival created a sensation. As he sat in the public room of an inn he listened to the conversation of the assembled farmers {1737.}.

"I hear," said one, "that a parson has come here to convert the Hottentots."

"What! a parson!" quoth another. "Why, the poor fool must have lost his head."

They argued the case; they mocked; they laughed; they found the subject intensely amusing.

"And what, sir, do you think?" said a waiter to Schmidt, who was sitting quietly in the corner.

"I am the very man," replied Schmidt; and the farmers began to talk about their crops.

For six years George Schmidt laboured all alone among the benighted Hottentots. He began his labours at a military outpost in the Sweet-Milk Valley, about fifty miles east of Cape Town; but finding the company of soldiers dangerous to the morals of his congregation, he moved to a place called Bavian's Kloof, where the town of Genadendal stands to-day. He planted the pear-tree so famous in missionary annals, taught the Hottentots the art of gardening, held public service every evening, had fifty pupils in his day-school, and began to baptize his converts. As he and William, one of his scholars, were returning one day from a visit to Cape Town, they came upon a brook, and Schmidt asked William if he had a mind to be baptized there and then. He answered "Yes." And there, by the stream in a quiet spot, the first fruit of African Missions made his confession of faith in Christ.

"Dost thou believe," asked Schmidt solemnly, "that the Son of God died on the cross for the sins of all mankind? Dost thou believe that thou art by nature a lost and undone creature? Wilt thou renounce the devil and all his works? Art thou willing, in dependence on God's grace, to endure reproach and persecution, to confess Christ before all men, and to remain faithful to him unto death?"

As soon, however, as Schmidt began to baptize his converts the Cape Town clergy denounced him as a heretic, and summoned him to answer for his sins. The great charge against him was that he had not been properly ordained. He had been ordained, not by actual imposition of hands, but by a certificate of ordination, sent out to him by Zinzendorf. To the Dutch clergy this was no ordination at all. What right, said they, had a man to baptize who had been ordained in this irregular manner? He returned to Holland to fight his battle there. And he never set foot on African soil again! The whole argument about the irregular ordination turned out to be a mere excuse. If that argument had been genuine the Dutch clergy could now have had Schimdt ordained in the usual way. But the truth is they had no faith in his mission; they had begun to regard the Brethren as dangerous heretics; and, therefore, for another fifty years they forbade all further mission work in the Dutch Colony of South Africa.

We pass on to other scenes. We go to the Gold Coast in the Dutch Colony of Guinea, where Huckoff, another German Moravian, and Protten, a mulatto theological scholar, attempted to found a school for slaves {1737.}, and where, again, the work was opposed by the Governor. We pass to another Dutch Colony in Ceylon; and there find David Nitschmann III. and Dr. Eller establishing a society in Colombo, and labouring further inland for the conversion of the Cingalese; and again we find that the Dutch clergy, inflamed by the "Pastoral Letter," were bitterly opposed to the Brethren and compelled them to return to Herrnhut. We take our journey to Constantinople, and find Arvid Gradin, the learned Swede, engaged in an attempt to come to terms with the Greek Church {1740.}, and thus open the way for the Brethren's Gospel to Asia. We step north to Wallachia, and find two Brethren consulting about a settlement there with the Haspodar of Bucharest. We arrive at St. Petersburg, and find three Brethren there before us, commissioned to preach the Gospel to the heathen Calmucks. We pass on to Persia and find two doctors, Hocker and Rffer, stripped naked by robbers on the highway, and then starting a practice at Ispahan (1747). We cross the sandy plains to the city of Bagdad, and find two Brethren in its narrow streets; we find Hocker expounding the Gospel to the Copts in Cairo!

And even this was not the end of the Brethren's missionary labours {1738-42.}. For some years the Brethren conducted a mission to the Jews. For Jews the Count had special sympathy. He had vowed in his youth to do all he could for their conversion; he had met a good many Jews at Herrnhut and at Frankfurt-on-the-Main; he made a practice of speaking about them in public on the Great Day of Atonement; and in their Sunday morning litany the Brethren uttered the prayer, "Deliver Thy people Israel from their blindness; bring many of them to know Thee, till the fulness of the Gentiles is come and all Israel is saved." The chief seat of this work was Amsterdam, and the chief workers Leonard Dober and Samuel Leiberkhn. The last man was a model missionary. He had studied theology at Jena and Halle; he was a master of the Hebrew tongue; he was expert in all customs of the Jews; he was offered a professorship at Knigsberg; and yet, instead of winning his laurels as an Oriental scholar, he preferred to settle down in humble style in the Jewish quarter of Amsterdam, and there talk to his friends the Jews about the Christ he loved so deeply. His method of work was instructive. He never dazed his Jewish friends with dogmatic theology. He never tried to prove that Christ was the Messiah of the prophecies. He simply told them, in a kindly way, how Jesus had risen from the dead, and how much this risen Jesus had done in the world; he shared their hope of a national gathering in Palestine; and, though he could never boast of making converts, he was so beloved by his Jewish friends that they called him "Rabbi Schmuel."

Let us try to estimate the value of all this work. Of all the enterprises undertaken by the Brethren this heroic advance on heathen soil had the greatest influence on other Protestant Churches; and some writers have called the Moravians the pioneers of Protestant Foreign Missions. But this statement is only true in a special sense. They were not the first to preach the Gospel to the heathen. If the reader consults any history of Christian Missions88 he will see that long before Leonard Dober set out for St. Thomas other men had preached the Gospel in heathen lands.

But in all these efforts there is one feature missing. There is no sign of any united Church action. At the time when Leonard Dober set out from Herrnhut not a single other Protestant Church in the world had attacked the task of foreign missions, or even regarded that task as a Divinely appointed duty. In England the work was undertaken, not by the Church as such, but by two voluntary associations, the S.P.C.K. and the S.P.G.; in Germany, not by the Lutheran Church, but by a few earnest Pietists; in Denmark, not by the Church, but by the State; in Holland, not by the Church, but by one or two pious Colonial Governors; and in Scotland, neither by the Church nor by anyone else. At that time the whole work of foreign missions was regarded as the duty, not of the Churches, but of "Kings, Princes, and States." In England, Anglicans, Independents and Baptists were all more or less indifferent. In Scotland the subject was never mentioned; and even sixty years later a resolution to inquire into the matter was rejected by the General Assembly {1796.}. In Germany the Lutherans were either indifferent or hostile. In Denmark and Holland the whole subject was treated with contempt. And the only Protestant Church to recognize the duty was this little, struggling Renewed Church of the Brethren. In this sense, therefore, and in this sense only, can we call the Moravians the pioneers of modern missions. They were the first Protestant Church in Christendom to undertake the conversion of the heathen. They sent out their missionaries as authorised agents of the Church. They prayed for the cause of missions in their Sunday Litany. They had several missionary hymns in their Hymn-Book. They had regular meetings to listen to the reading of missionaries' diaries and letters. They discussed missionary problems at their Synods. They appointed a Church Financial Committee to see to ways and means. They sent out officially appointed "visitors" to inspect the work in various countries. They were, in a word, the first Protestant Missionary Church in history; and thus they set an inspiring example to all their stronger sisters.