Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.

They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,

Through Eden took their solitary way."

Thus concludes Milton's great poem, in which he does his part as a far-seeing poet to assure the world that all things are working together for the best and greatest ends. "Paradise Lost" was followed by "Paradise Regained.” Milton had lent the MS. of his poem to a young Quaker friend, Thomas Ellwood, and when he had read it he returned it to him, saying, "Thou hast said much here of 'Paradise Lost,' but what hast thou to say of 'Paradise Found '?"

"Paradise Lost" could not have answered the purpose Milton intended it to do, if it did not include in it the restoration of man to God's favour and love through Christ, and that is in itself Paradise found, as Milton plainly shows, because man is brought back into obedience and love, and thus into harmony with Heaven; but Milton thought Ellwood's question implied a want of something in his great poem, so he wrote "Paradise Regained,” not as a sequel or completion of "Paradise Lost," but as an addition, showing the victory of Christ over Satan, which was in itself the victory of God and man over "the great foe of God and man." The victory is the triumph of perfect trust, love, and obedience under severest tests; and stands in contrast to the fall of Adam and Eve through doubt and disobedience. The subject is the three temptations of Christ in the wilderness, including in them, as they do, all the temptations common to man; and the spirit in which every one is met, and answered, is, "Rest in the Lord, wait patiently for Him."

Milton's last great poem, "Samson Agonistes," was

written to meet the special doubts and trials of faith which at this time beset the great Puritan party. Only a short while before, it had been the one strong triumphant power in England, fighting for God, for truth, for right, and liberty.

The hope was widely felt that in its success the kingdom of God was about to be set up on earth in the outward life and government of the nation. Now the Puritan party was as Samson, shorn of its strength, imprisoned and mocked; and there were many who could not then see how God was teaching the lesson that Paradise is to be within, that it is only as each individual of a nation rises in sonship with God that the nation becomes the kingdom of God, and for those who could not see, there was nothing at the time but to walk by faith and not by sight. This was all that even Milton could do, and he could only strive to inspire his comrades with the same firm, quiet trust in God which supported his own life. In “Samson Agonistes," Milton looks beyond his party, and shows that though Puritanism, like Samson, may perish, yet God still lives; the Puritans had done their work, and had only "heroically" to "finish a life heroic " :—

"Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail

Or knock the breast: no weakness, no contempt,
Dispraise, or blame, nothing but well and fair,
And what may quiet us in a death so noble."

Like Samson, they had given a death-blow to the enemies of God from which they would not soon recover, and He would carry on the war of truth and right, though they had passed away. Then in his last words as a poet, Milton calls up all the strength of faith, and without hesitation says:

"All is best, though we oft doubt
What the unsearchable dispose
Of highest wisdom brings about,
And ever best found in the close.
Oft He seems to hide His face,
But unexpectedly returns,

And to His faithful champion hath in place
Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns,

And all that band them to resist
His uncontrollable intent;

His servants He with new acquist

Of true experience, from this great event,
With peace and consolation hath dismist,
And calm of mind all passion spent."

In this spirit Milton finished his work, and held fast the confidence of his young life firm unto the end. On Sunday, the 8th of November, 1674, God took him into the Paradise above, into the nearer sight of those things which he had seen afar off, and was persuaded of by faith.

CHAPTER XIV.

JEREMY TAYLOR, BUNYAN, AND BAXTER.

ALTHOUGH the seventeenth century was a time of religious contention, the strife was not, for the most part, a battle for the essential truths of Christianity against its foes, but rather a warfare of opinion amongst its followers in regard to matters of detail. There was among all parties a strong, deep faith in the essential truths of religion, and a very earnest aspiration after a holy faithful life. It was a matter of deep concern to find out the right, and, at all costs, to hold fast to it. Even in the heat of the conflict, it is impossible to shut our eyes to this, unless we are wilfully determined to misrepresent to ourselves the true spirit at work on all sides, and are seeking to exalt one party at the expense of truth. This depth of earnestness and this firm grasp of the first principles of the same religion is an immortal bond of union between those who to a mere partisan seem to be separated by a great gulf from one another; and it is this which really brings into closest relation three such writers as Jeremy Taylor in the Church, Richard Baxter the Presbyterian, and John Bunyan among the Baptist section of the Independents. In strong faith and holy aspiration they rise together above the controversies of contending sects, and leave behind them works which have an enduring life of use and preciousness for every age and every form of Christianity. We take these three great men as representing each of the religious divisions of the time, and we shall find them all three engaged in the

political conflict-Taylor a chaplain to the Royal army, Baxter chaplain to Cromwell's Ironsides, Bunyan a soldier in the Royalist army. Then we find all three suffering imprisonment Taylor for his Church principles, under the rule of the Independents; Baxter and Bunyan for their Nonconformity, at the restoration of the Church; and in each case the time of imprisonment was a resting-time, used for writing books for the service and help of all Christians. Each left witness also that

"Stone walls do not a prison make.
Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage."

Jeremy Taylor was the son of a barber at Cambridge. He was born in 1613. After an elementary education at the Free School, he entered Caius College as a sizar in 1626. At twenty he took his M.A. degree, and was admitted into holy orders. John Bunyan that year was a little boy five years old, playing, perhaps, with the pots and kettles which his father mended; and Richard Baxter was a lad of thirteen working hard at school.

Soon after Taylor's ordination, a college friend of his, who was Lecturer at St. Paul's, asked him to take his place for a while. Tayior went up to London, and began to preach. Very soon his natural eloquence and the peculiar beauty of his style attracted much attention. Archbishop Laud sent for him to preach before him, and was so much charmed by his sermon that he procured for him a Fellowship at All Souls', Oxford, and made him one of his chaplains. In 1637 Juxon, Bishop of London, gave Taylor the living of Uppingham. Here he married, and lived for the next five years such a life as Herbert's in his quiet country parish. Then the war broke out, and Taylor joined the Royal army at Oxford as chaplain. Of his life at this time