threw far and wide the precious seed; and it will be seen at the great harvest with what result.
The subject recalls another eminent labourer in the same field, another evangelical translator, whose name has already been traced on these pages—the Merchant Reformer, Peter Waldo.
Perhaps a little notice of “the poor man of Lyons” may serve as one of our promised bouquets to scent and embellish our chapter of the Teaching Church, and add life to its lessons.
But Peter was not always “the poor man of Lyons”—he did not always wear that garment of coarse frieze, nor walk with sandalled foot along the highways, calling on all men “to repent and come out of the abominations of the Great Babylon.” We know of one day when the wealthy merchant was arrayed in purple and fine linen, and sat conspicuously at a feast. There were luxurious viands on the board, and the wine cup went freely round; and the tabor and harp were there; and there, too, was the rich man’s chosen friend, the companion of all his pastimes, as young and thoughtless as himself. We are not told under what form death appeared to the friend of Peter Waldo; all we know is, that the grim tyrant seized him as he sat at the festal board. Like the companion of another great Reformer, he was struck dead at his friend’s side; and the effect on both survivors was the same—a sudden and solemn conviction of the necessity of repentance, and an unalterable determination, from that awful moment, to give themselves up to the service of God. Luther, we know, retired to a monastery for study and meditation—Waldo remained in the world, but not of it. He sold his lands and houses, parted with his luxurious furniture, and gave all his fortune to charitable and evange-
