enabled by divine grace to resolve on giving his life for the truths which he had outwardly abjured, he suddenly recovered his serenity of mind and countenance; and telling his companions that he would go up to Jerusalem, he left Trinity Hall, at ten o'clock at night, journeying into Norfolk, where, after privily exhorting his own family, and immediate friends, confirming them in the faith of Christ, he proceeded to preach openly, in the fields, the doctrine that he had abjured to be very truth, lamenting his apostasy, and holding it up as an example to others, never to take counsel of worldly friends in matters pertaining to their souls. He had been the means of converting an anchoress of Norwich, whom he again visited, presenting her with Tindal's New Testament, and another proscribed book: and so, according to his intention, being apprehended for preaching Christ crucified, he was cast into prison, there to abide the sentence of Nix, then bishop of the dioTwo doctors, the one provincial of the grey friars, the other an Augustine, were sent to remain there with him, labouring to retain the prey just escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowler. Instead of succeeding, the former of them, named Call, was silenced, and nearly convinced, by Bilney. A superior of the white, and another of the black friars, were also commissioned to assail the constancy of the martyr; but the iron of an accusing conscience had before entered too deeply into his soul to be again endured, and they utterly failed.

cese.

The final condemnation was speedily pronounced, and degradation performed by the bishop's suffragan, after which he was committed to the custody of sheriff Necton to be burned. The sheriff was Bilney's friend, and gladly would have declined to accept the dreadful charge; but the absolute power of the ecclesiastics rendered such refusal impossible. He had, however, the consolation of indulging Bilney with greater comforts than he would otherwise have enjoyed; and avoided attending him to the stake. On the eve of his execution, some of Bilney's friends, sitting with him, and rejoicing in the cheerful state of his mind, remarked to him, that though the fire in which, on the morrow, he was to suffer would be of great heat unto his body, yet the comfort of God's Spirit should cool it to his everlasting refreshment. "Oh!" replied the martyr, advancing his hand to the candle, until his finger touched the flame, "I feel by experience, and have known it

long by philosophy, that fire, by God's ordinance, is naturally hot; but yet I am persuaded by God's holy word, and by the experience of some spoken of in the same, that in the flame they felt no heat, and in the fire they felt no consumption. And I constantly believe, howsoever that the stubble of my body shall be wasted by it, yet my soul and spirit shall be purged thereby: a pain for the time, whereon, notwithstanding, followeth joy unspeakable." He then recited in Latin, and commented on, the sublime words of Scripture, Isaiah xliii. 1, 2. “Fear not, for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee." So sweet was his speech, and so glorious his dying testimony, that his friends recorded in tablets the discourse of that evening: and from some of them the comfort thereof was never taken away, to their dying day.

The next morning they led him to "The Lollard's pit.' This is a low valley, or hollow, just beyond the bridge of Bishopsgate, in Norwich, under St. Leonard's hill, surrounded by higher eminences, where the people might commodiously sit, to behold the slaughter of Christ's sheep. To this day the spot is marked, and retains its name: a living reproach to some nominal protestants, whose delight it is to foster and encourage popery in that place, where, without the gate, Bilney, like his Master, went forth to suffer. As he left the prison-door, one of his friends beseeching him, in God's name, to be constant, and take his death patiently, he answered, with a mild and quiet countenance, "Ye see when the mariner is entered his ship, to sail on the troublous sea, how he, for a while, is tossed on the billows of the same; but yet, in hope that he shall once come to the quiet haven, he beareth, in better comfort, the perils which he feeleth. So am I now, towards this sailing; and whatsoever storms I shall feel, yet shortly after shall my ship be in the haven, as I doubt not thereof by the grace of God; desiring you to help me with your prayers to the same effect."

How strikingly does this contrast with his recent condition, as described by Latimer! Then, he had been released from prison, delivered from all bodily fear, re-admitted to his former privileges, and allowed to return to the scene of

his honourable achievements in learning, where, if the Spirit of Truth had permitted to do evil that good might ensue, he could privily have disseminated the truths which, outwardly alone, he had abjured. Yet was he tortured beyond the power of language to express: and the very sweets of God's own word became insupportable bitterness to his unfaithful lip. Now, stripped of all honour, degraded, and of man accursed, blaspheming crowds around, and a death of lingering agony immediately before him; while Satan, no doubt, was close at hand, to terrify him with the phantom of his past denial, how calm, how sweet, yea, even how elegant the language that flows from his heart, rejoicing in hope of the glory of God! The past night's discourse reveals the secret of his divine composure: he had received upon his soul the seal of adoption-" I have called thee by thy name: thou art mine." The effect of this was peace: and the fruit of such peace is "quietness and assurance for ever."

As he passed through the streets, he distributed alms to the poor people, who came to look upon his calamity; and a piteous spectacle he appeared;-his low and slender person, habited in a layman's gown, the sleeves hanging over his shoulders, and his hair mangled by the preposterous zeal of the priests, in erasing the tonsure on the head of their victim, to which they attached far more virtue than to the image of Christ in his soul. Coming to the stake, he craved permission to address a few words to the multitude, while the murderous preparations were completed. This granted, he rehearsed the apostles' creed, as a confession of his dying faith, after elevating his eyes and hands towards heaven. In the article of Christ's incarnation, he lingered, as delighting inwardly to meditate long on the precious truth and at the word crucified, he humbly bowed himself, and made great reverence; realizing, no doubt, in the richest fulness of adoring gratitude, the appropriation of that amazing sacrifice; and blessing God who had made him resolve to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified. On professing to believe the holy catholic church, he paused, and made this acknowledgment: "Good people, I must here confess to have offended the church, in preaching once against the prohibition of the same, at a poor cure, belonging to Trinity Hall, in Cambridge, where I was fellow; earnestly entreated thereto by the curate and other good people of the parish, showing they had no

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sermon there of long time before; and so, in my conscience moved, I did make a poor collation unto them, and thereby ran into the disobedience of certain authority in the church, by whom I was prohibited. However, I trust at the general day, charity, that moved me to this act, shall bear me out at the judgment-seat of God." To this act of holy disobedience might well be applied the apostles' words, "Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye."

Bilney then put off his gown and went to the stake, where was a little ledge prepared for him to stand on, that he might be the more easily seen of the people. Upon this ledge he kneeled, making much earnest prayer, with lifted eyes and hand, and concluding his private devotions by audibly reciting the 143d Psalm; thrice repeating, with deep meditation, the verse, " And enter not into judgment with thy servant; for in thy sight shall no man living be justified." He then turned to the officers, asking if they were ready: and being answered in the affirmative, he threw off his hose and doublet, mounted the ledge, and quietly stood while the chain was fastened around him. His friend, Dr. Warner, now approached, weeping bitterly, to receive his last farewell; to whom Bilney, gently smiling on him, and inclining his body to speak, addressed these parting words: "O master doctor, feed your flock, feed your flock, that when the Lord cometh he may find you so doing and farewell, good master doctor, and pray for me." Warner departed without being able to utter a word, for sobbing and weeping. Then there came to him certain friars, and other popish doctors, who had assisted at his degradation, beseeching him to remove from the minds of the spectators the impression that it was they who had brought him to this cruel end; lest they should withdraw their alms from them. Bilney, in the divine spirit of charity, readily assented, and raising his voice to a loud pitch, said, "I pray you, good people, be never the worse to these men for my sake, as though they should be the authors of my death: it was not they."

The reeds and faggots were then put near him, and the former being first ignited, sent up a high and crackling blaze, which scorched and disfigured his countenance; he, all the while, striking his hands on his breast, only uttering "Jesus," and "I believe," alternately. A very high wind then prevailing, which did much damage to the sur

rounding country, had blown the flame into his face: and now shifting, completely wafted it away, leaving his blackened visage and quiet form exposed, until the more substantial wood had kindled, and, by the intensity of its fire, set free the captive spirit from its burnt and shrivelled body, which fell bending over the chain, until an officer, with his halbert, struck out the staple behind, and then the corpse sank down, and, being covered with fresh wood, mingled in the whitening pile of ashes. "Precious in the

sight of the Lord is the death of his saints!"

CHAPTER IV.

BAYFIELD-REFLECTIONS-TEWKESBURY-BAINHAM-FRITH.

RICHARD BAYFIELD. The same diocese of Norwich furnished also the next martyr, who suffered in Smithfield, in the month of November following Bilney's murder. Bayfield was a Benedictine monk, at Bury St. Edmunds, whither Dr. Barnes and other godly men resorted to visit a Dr. Ruffam, who had studied with Barnes at Louvaine. By the good providence of God, it was so ordered that Bayfield was chamberlain of the abbey at a time when Barnes, accompanied by two pious friends from London, arrived there. His part being to provide accommodations for strangers, and attend to their comfort, he was thus brought within hearing of much discourse, which so interested him, that the doctor, perceiving it, gave him the New Testament in Latin, to which the other two men added Tindal's English translation, and other small works. For two years Bayfield studied them; and with such manifest profit, that he was judged worthy, by his superiors, to be imprisoned, whipped, and gagged; and then placed in the stocks for the space of nine months, until, by means of Dr. Barnes and his friend Ruffam, he was delivered, and sent with the former to Cambridge. Here he greatly improved himself, both in human learning and divine; and instead of returning to his abbey, repaired to London, where Dr. Barnes was already in the Fleet prison, for the testimony of God's word. It does not appear exactly at what period of the