The Christian ministry of bishops, priests and deacons is essentially an urban one. It developed in the two generations after the fall of Jerusalem when the Church, though practically destroyed in Palestine, emerged as a religious and cultural force among the synagogues of the Dispersion. These were predominantly urban communities, and their organisation had developed accordingly. Except, however, for the final phase in Jerusalem, Jesus's message had been directed almost exclusively to the inhabitants of rural Palestine. The Greek cities he had passed by: he had preached in the territory of Caesarea Philippi, but not in Caesarea itself (cf. Mk. viii. 27) and the illustrations for his parables were drawn from the daily life of the Palestinian countryside. In this paper I propose to trace briefly how this message ultimately penetrated the countryside of the Graeco-Roman world and beyond, and to suggest how its inhabitants, finding the plain words of Jesus's teaching more intelligible than the philosophic commentaries of the urban Christians, may have played their part in shaping the development of thought and doctrine in the early Church.

Every student of plainsong in the later Middle Ages and the sixteenth century is bound sooner or later to come up against problems of terminology. Some of the more puzzling ones are those connected with the practice of alternatim. It is not easy in every case to determine whether a writer is speaking of the organ or of a group of polyphonic singers when he mentions sections alternating with the plainsong.

Archbishop Matthew Parker's claim to a place of respect in the estimation of posterity is as nearly secure as could be hoped for by any historical figure. This secure position is based primarily upon his implementation of the Elizabethan Settlement, his scholarship, his conveyance of an impression of mildness in an age not especially notable for its tolerance, and, finally, his efficiency as an administrator. As archbishop of Canterbury he had many functions and duties of national importance. He was royal advisor, president of the Convocation of the Clergy, visitor of Oxford Colleges, gaoler of deprived bishops, host to foreign dignitaries, sede vacante ordinary (i.e. temporary acting bishop in sees which fell vacant), one of the Queen's Commissioners in Causes Ecclesiastical, etc.

The subject of the present paper is only seemingly a national German development—it has, in fact, to do with the universal situation of the Christian Church in modern times. The question of mysticism runs through almost all denominations. The imposing French Roman Catholic Dictionnaire de spiritualité ascétique et mystique shows it in every column. We know how important a contribution to Christian preaching and devotional literature was made by the early Greek and Oriental monks, like Ephraem Syrus, Johannes Klimakos and others, how fundamental and lasting theological concepts were developed on mystical lines by Clement of Alexandria and Dionysius the Areopagite, by Bernard of Clairvaux, by the Victorine School, by Richard Rolle of Hampole. The mystical impact of the devotio moderna on Erasmus of Rotterdam was considerable. Luther praised, though with some reservations, John Tauler and the Theologia Germanica which he edited himself. In the Anglo-Catholic school of Lancelot Andrewes we find an original union of rational clearness and distinctiveness with mystical depth and personal feeling. The influence of Spanish mysticism was enormous in France, Germany, and also in England. Even John Wesley recommended throughout his whole life the biographies of Gregor Lopez of Mexico and of the French marquess de Renty, the disciple of Teresa of Avila, and was impressed by Henry Scougal, The Life of God in the Soul of Man and by Jeremy Taylor.