For all nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication, and the kings of the earth have committed fornication with her, and the merchants of the earth are waxed rich through the abundance of her delicacies.
* * * Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins and that ye receive not of her plagues.
For her sins have reached unto heaven, and God hath remembered her iniquities.
THE PROPHECY OF JOHN THE REVELATOR.
THE APOSTASY AND THE RESTORATION.
In the reign of Tiberius of Rome, the Lord Jesus was crucified. At the hour of the atonement, His Gospel was to the dominant earthly power only "a deadly superstition,"[[1]] "a strange and pestilent superstition,"[[2]] sought to be crushed at any cost by the ruthless power of the pagan empire. Thus came the persecutions of the early Christians, lasting until after Christianity, with irresistible power, had "sprung up, even in Rome, the common reservoir for all the streams of wickedness and infamy."[[1]]
In the midst of these early tribulations, the plain and simple Gospel was becoming involved and mystified by the many opposing sects which professed to believe in Jesus; and yet it retained so much of divinity as enabled it to resist persecution and idolatry, and made it, in the fourth century, the established religion of Rome.
This elevation was not achieved without some sacrifice of identity. And in the commingling with error, truth yielded much.[[3]]
The Roman emperor, Constantine I., was led to show favor to the unpopular people; but his friendliness to Christianity demanded and received its price. He sought as much the welfare of the state as the progress of the religion to which he had been only in part converted; and when he exacted concessions of creed and principle, the Fathers felt forced to comply. It was Constantine who called the first Council of Nice. He presided over its opening session, and dictated its policy in accordance with his own imperial ambitions.[[4]]
From that time on, for twelve hundred years, the Church of Rome grew in lustful power. The first great check was when the German monk, Martin Luther, with bared feet, fled in disappointment from the debauched court of Pope Leo X. Luther's courage partly stripped the idol of its awe-invoking cloak of mystery and dread threats; and never more did the whole civilized world crouch in terror at the feet of Rome.