126
The Great Controversy
over them by my death. They are busy at Worms about compelling me
to retract; and this shall be my retraction: I said formerly that the pope
was Christ’s vicar; now I assert that he is our Lord’s adversary, and the
devil’s apostle.”—Ibid., b. 7, ch. 6.
Luther was not to make his perilous journey alone. Besides the
imperial messenger, three of his firmest friends determined to accom-
pany him. Melanchthon earnestly desired to join them. His heart was
knit to Luther’s, and he yearned to follow him, if need be, to prison
or to death. But his entreaties were denied. Should Luther perish, the
hopes of the Reformation must center upon his youthful colaborer.
Said the Reformer as he parted from Melanchthon: “If I do not return,
and my enemies put me to death, continue to teach, and stand fast in
the truth. Labor in my stead.... If you survive, my death will be of
little consequence.”—Ibid., b. 7, ch. 7. Students and citizens who
had gathered to witness Luther’s departure were deeply moved. A
multitude whose hearts had been touched by the gospel, bade him
farewell with weeping. Thus the Reformer and his companions set out
from Wittenberg.
On the journey they saw that the minds of the people were op-
pressed by gloomy forebodings. At some towns no honors were prof-
fered them. As they stopped for the night, a friendly priest expressed
his fears by holding up before Luther the portrait of an Italian re-
former who had suffered martyrdom. The next day they learned that
Luther’s writings had been condemned at Worms. Imperial messengers
were proclaiming the emperor’s decree and calling upon the people to
bring the proscribed works to the magistrates. The herald, fearing for
Luther’s safety at the council, and thinking that already his resolution
might be shaken, asked if he still wished to go forward. He answered:
“Although interdicted in every city, I shall go on.”—Ibid., b. 7, ch. 7.
[152]
At Erfurt, Luther was received with honor. Surrounded by admiring
crowds, he passed through the streets that he had often traversed with
his beggar’s wallet. He visited his convent cell, and thought upon the
struggles through which the light now flooding Germany had been shed
upon his soul. He was urged to preach. This he had been forbidden to
do, but the herald granted him permission, and the friar who had once
been made the drudge of the convent, now entered the pulpit.
To a crowded assembly he spoke from the words of Christ, “Peace
be unto you.” “Philosophers, doctors, and writers,” he said, “have