Pains and penalties, in countless instances not one degree less cruel than “Bloody Mary” inflicted on the Protestant martyrs, did “good Queen Bess” and her successor, “gentle King Jamie,” inflict on the confessors of the older creed. To all other Christians, the Church of England extended sympathy. While her sanctuaries, retaining much of the pomp and ceremonial of Roman ritual, were served by consecrated bishop, priest, and deacon, the crypts beneath them afforded places for the simple and austere public worship of refugee Huguenots and Calvinists. Singing boys still chanted psalm and antiphon; and in the private chapel of Elizabeth, the “morning star of the Reformation,” the retention of the lighted candles on the altar betokened the belief in the reality of Christ’s presence in the sacramental bread and wine. The transubstantiation of Romanism—the consubstantiation of Lutheranism—the spiritual presence only of Christ in the elements of Calvinism—the unchanged condition of the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper of Nonconformity and of Dissent generally, were alike set aside by the Established Church. The answer quoted by Elizabeth when questioned as to her conception of the manner of the divine presence in the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper:— “Christ’s was the Word that spake it; He took the bread, and brake it. And what that Word doth make it, That I believe, and take it”— was signally characteristic of the teaching of the Church of England, which claimed primitive Catholicity and unbroken Apostolical succession. The assertion was at once pious and safe, and eminently illustrates the temper of the communion which has embraced within its fold such children as Jeremy Taylor, Burnet, Nicholas Ferrar and his ascetic following, Sherlock, Laud, Stanley, Pusey, the Wilberforces; and whose rebuke to a Sacheverell was administered mainly on the score of good breeding, and, if it lost a Wesley, is not careful to cry _mea culpa_.