"If you have aught to spare, in God's name give it for the building of St. Peter's, but do not buy pardons.
"If you have means, feed the hungry, which is of more avail than piling stones together, and far better than the buying of indulgences.
"My advice is, Let indulgences alone; leave them to dead and sleepy Christians; but see to it that ye be not of that kind.
"Indulgences are neither commanded nor approved of God. They excite no one to sanctification. They work nothing toward salvation.
"That indulgences have virtue to deliver souls from Purgatory I do not believe, nor can it be proven by them that teach it; the Church says nothing to that effect.
"What I preach to you is based on the certainty of the Holy Scriptures, which no one ought to doubt."
So Luther preached, and his word went out to the ends of the earth. It was no jest, like Ulric von Hütten's Epistles of Obscure Men, or like the ridicule which Reuchlin and Erasmus heaped upon the stupid monks. It raised no laugh, but penetrated, like a rifle-shot, into the very heart of things.
Those who listened were deeply affected by the serious boldness of the preacher. The audience was with him in conviction, but many trembled for the result. "Dear doctor, you have been very rash; what trouble may come of this!" said a venerable father as he pulled the sleeve of Luther's gown and shook his head with misgivings. "If this is not rightly done in God's name," said Luther, "it will come to nothing; if it is, let come what will."
It was honest duty to God, truth, and the salvation of men that moved him. Cowardly policy or timid expediency in such a matter was totally foreign to his soul.
In a few days, the substance of the sermon was in print. Tetzel raved over it. Melanchthon says he burnt it in the market-place of Jüterbock. In the name of God and the pope he bade defiance to its author, and challenged him by fire and water. Luther laughed at him for braying so loud at a distance, yet declining to come to Wittenberg to argue out the matter in close lists.