Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth,
     And silver waves chime ever peacefully,
     And no rude storm, how fierce soe’er it flieth,
     Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.

We have had glimpses of the hidden depths in Luther’s mind:  his thought reaches down to the lowest depths of human misery, and then goes deeper still towards the limits of God’s rescuing love and conquering grace which human mind has never reached.  For these divine profundities no plummet will ever sound.  He who could surrender himself wholly to the study of the greatness and beauty of Luther’s constructive thought would enjoy a spiritual luxury and be drawn into that sublime and solemn peace of God which passes all understanding.  He would behold this strenuous man; who has been shown mostly in his working-clothes in these pages, in his holiday-attire, with that Sabbath in his heart which occurs wherever Christ is the loved and adored object of the thinker’s contemplation.