A bout four hundred years ago John Knox wrote as follows in his Comfortable Epistle to Christ's afflicted Church: ‘Let Wynchester, and his cruel counsell, devise and study till hys wits faile, howe the kyngdom of his father, the Antichrist of Rome, may prosper: And let him and them drink the bloudde of Goddes sainctes till they be droncke, and theyr bellyes burst, yet shall they never provide long in their attemptes. Their counsailes and determinacions shalbe like the dreame of a hungry or thyrstie man, who in his slepe dreameth that he is eatinge or drinckinge; but after he is awaked, his pain continueth, and his soule is unpacient and nothinge eased. Even so shall these tyrantes, after their profounde counsayles, long devices and assured determinations, understand and know that the hope of ypocrites shal be frustrate; that a kingdome begunne with tyranny and bloudde, can neither be stable nor permanent; but that the glorie, the riches, and manteiners of the same, shalbe as strawe in the flame of fyre. Altogether with a blaste they shal be consumed in such sorte, that their palaces shal be a heape of stones, their congregations shal be desolate; and such as do depend upon their helpe, shalfal into destruction and ignominie with them.’

‘At any period of English history from the thirteenth century until a century ago, the records of the great diocese of Lincoln furnish an admirably full illustration of the working of ecclesiastical institutions and administration in the English Church as a whole.’ Of no epoch is this statement of Professor Hamilton Thompson more true than of that which witnessed the tenure of the see of Lincoln by Thomas Tenison, William Wake, and Edmund Gibson. When, therefore, amongst the Wake MSS. at Christ Church, Oxford, I discovered a volume labelled Arch. W. 297. Actorum Episcopal, Tom. I, it was with the eager anticipation of a rich harvest that I opened its pages. At first anticipation was frilly realised; for the first year of Wake's episcopate fills twenty folio pages of careful and detailed entries. But, alas! those thieves of episcopal leisure, the administrative duties of so large a diocese, made as speedy as sudden an end of his diligent resolve to keep a personal diary of his activities. On page 21 the entry Anno Consecrationis Secundo contains only three items and the rest of the volume consists of blank pages.

The archimandrite Photius of Russia, one of the most unusual figures to appear in a national history hardly lacking in the bizarre, played a unique role in the development of the modern Russian State. Possibly no other Russian churchman in modern times enjoyed so much power, however briefly, and used it for such unfortunate purposes as Photius. Through his influence upon the emperor Alexander i he determined the history of the Russian empire in such a manner that beneficial trends of growth were terminated and salutary movements aborted, to the great disadvantage of later generations. Had he lived during the reign of Nicholas ii, not a century earlier, Photius would undoubtedly have garnered something of the immortality accorded to those who brought Russia to its final dissolution; yet his role in the decline and fall of the Romanovs was no less than that of those who followed later.

It is well known that Thomas Reid, premier exponent of the Common Sense school of Scottish philosophy, was an ordained and active minister. Less clear is the role played by theology in the deve opment ofthat philosophy as it matured slowly under his pen, particularly in me most prominent of his works, the Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man (1785) and the Essays on the Active Powers of the Human Mind (1788), works which range widely over the field of human experience and the nature of reality. When philosophy and theology assumed more distinct and separate identities in the generations which succeeded Reid, it became common for critics of the Common Sense school to base their analyses solely on philosophical foundations and to neglect the theological underpinning which is essential to a fuller and clearer grasp of Keid s position. It would be a useful contribution to more than one discipline were Thomas Reid's philosophy linked more closely to the development and extent of his theological thinking. While his philosophical writings are strewn with theological references in the way typical of the eighteenth century, there is more substance in these references than is usually the case, when divines ofthat age wrote philosophy. That they are much more than casual, conventional embellishments becomes apparent from a careful reading of his works.

In all the Ignatian epistles, except the Epistle to the Romans, we find polemical remarks and warnings against heretical tendencies which threatened the churches of Asia Minor.

It is not quite easy to obtain a clear picture of the heretics combatted by Ignatius. One point only is evident: their docetism. They considered Christ's life on earth, his birth, his human body, his death and resurrection as mere appearance.

The Provincial Synod of the Church of the Province of South Africa met for the first time in 1870. A long controversy, of which the Colenso law-suits were the core, had made it plain that the Anglican Church was not, and could not be, an established Church in South Africa. The chief task of the synod was to provide some alternative machinery of government and a constitution which could legally serve as a contractual basis for the exercise of the Church's discipline. There were before the synod two documents of primary importance—the draft constitution which the South African bishops had been preparing since 1861, and the report of the first Lambeth Conference.

Studies of medieval society in recent years have laid increasing stress on the effectiveness of the power of the saints. They enriched their churches, defended their possessions, created great centres at once of pilgrimage and commerce and provided for the healing of the sick and the care of the poor. The cults of the saints formed a model for secular government. Kings appeared before their people as walking reliccollections and exercised the power of healing, and patron saints (like St Mark at Venice and St Denis in France) helped to define the identity of the political communities over whose well-being they were thought to preside. Often such saints, even those whose cults were rapidly developing in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, were figures from the New Testament or from the ages of conversion: St James at Compostella, Mary Magdalen at Vézelay, and Benedict at Fleury. On occasions, however, a charismatic figure in contemporary society emerged as the centre of a healing cult and a focus for widespread devotion.

Fourteenth-century records give a depressing picture of the finances of the Cistercian Order. In 1338, for instance, the Chapter General stated that the Order was heavily in debt at the papal curia and in the fairs of Champagne, and that its income was not sufficient to meet all its obligations. Its immunity from papal and royal taxation had been largely eroded in the thirteenth century. During the Avignon period the popes levied frequent property taxes from the Church in France, and by an arrangement with the French monarchy, the lion's share of the profits went to the king. In this way Philip VI obtained money from the Church during the Hundred Years’ War. The premier abbeys of the Cistercian Order, and its other houses within the kingdom, were not exempt from these exactions, and no doubt shared the distress of the French clergy. In 1362 Urban V refused to levy another property tax from the Church in France, on the grounds that it had paid more than enough.