{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_22371/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_22371","id":"gutenberg_22371","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22371","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christianity","Church history -- 19th century"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHIEF END OF MAN\n\n\nBY\n\nGEORGE S. MERRIAM\n\n\n\n\nBOSTON AND NEW YORK\n\nHOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY\n\nThe Riverside Press, Cambridge\n\n1897\n\n\n\n\nCopyright, 1897,\n\nBY GEORGE S. MERRIAM.\n\n_All rights reserved._\n\n\n\n\n_The chief end of man,--to define it anew, and cite the witness of the\nages, may seem an audacious attempt, likely to issue in failure or in\ncommonplace.  By the scholar this work must often be judged as crude,\nto the churchman it will sometimes seem mischievous, and to the man of\nscience it may appear to lack solidity of demonstration.  But its\nessential purpose is to utter afresh, though it be with stammering\ntongue, the message with which the universe has answered the soul of\nman whenever he listened most closely and obeyed most faithfully._\n\n_It is the assurance that Fidelity, Truth-seeking, Courage, and Love\nare the rightful lords of human life, and its sufficient guides and\ninterpreters.  It is the knowledge that as man is true to his best self\nhe finds the universe his friend._\n\n_That message the seeing eye reads in the face of earth, and the\nlistening ear hears it in the song of the morning stars.  The will\nfinds it as answer to its loyal endeavor.  The heart wins it through\nrapture and through anguish.  It is our dearest inheritance, it is our\nmost arduous achievement.  It is the sword with which each man must\nconquer his destiny.  It is the smile with which Beatrice welcomes her\nlover to Paradise._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n      PROLOGUE\n\n   I. OUR SPIRITUAL ANCESTRY\n\n  II. THE IDEAL OF TO-DAY\n\n III. A TRAVELER'S NOTE-BOOK\n\n  IV. GLIMPSES\n\n   V. DAILY BREAD\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHIEF END OF MAN\n\n\nPROLOGUE\n\nIt sometimes happens that a man is confronted by a perplexing crisis,\nbefore which he is quite at a loss how to direct his course.  His\nfamiliar rules and habits seem to fail him, and his perplexity\napproaches dismay.  At such a time, if his previous life has been\nguided by purpose and consideration, he may perhaps help himself by\nlooking attentively back at the steps by which he has hitherto\nadvanced.  He recalls other crises, he sees how they were met, and\nlight, it may be, breaks on the path before him, or at least he takes\nfresh heart and hope.\n\nSome such crisis confronts the thoughtful mind of the world to-day, in\nthe disappearance of the old sanctions of religion.  When the idea of\nan authoritative revelation of divine truth has been finally dislodged,\nthere are moments when moral chaos seems to impend.  We are still\nupheld by old habits and associations, we are borne along by forces\nmightier than our creeds or negations, and the loyal spirit catches at\nmoments the \"deeper voice across the storm,\" even though the voice be\ninarticulate.  But it is felt that we need to somehow define anew the\nrule of life.  By what road shall man attain his supreme desire,--how\ncan he be good, and how can he be happy?\n\nAs the individual seeks help in looking back over his course, so it may\nhelp us if we look back a little over some of the significant passages\nin the movement of mankind.  History is to the race what memory is to\nthe individual.  One's best treasure is the memory of his happy and\nheroic hours.  The best treasure of humanity is the story of its happy\nand heroic souls.  Let us call before us some of these, and see how\nthey answered the questions we ask.\n\nFollowing this clew, we run back along the line of what may be called\n\"our spiritual ancestry.\"  Turning naturally to our own next of kin, a\nchild of New England, going back from the teaching of his youth to his\nfathers and to their fathers, soon finds before him the Puritan.  When\nwe study the Puritan it appears that he was a most composite product,\nand that just behind him, and essential to the understanding of him, is\nthe great mediaeval church.  Studying the church, there is nothing for\nit but to go back to its foundation, and ponder well the one from whose\nperson and teaching it grew.  And to know at all the mind of Jesus we\nmust know something of the mind of Judaism, of which he was the child.\nIndeed, the popular religion of to-day bases itself directly on the Old\nand New Testaments; so that our lineage must clearly be traced from\nthis as one of its origins.  Another ancient line attracts us, by a\nhistory which blends with Judaism at the birth of Christianity, and by\na literature which is rich in moral treasures.  We must glance at some\nof the landmarks of the Greek and Roman story.\n\nAnd here our present study may define its bounds.  We will not go back\nto the progress from the animal up to man, nor survey the prehistoric\nman; nor will we turn aside to the religions of Egypt, Arabia, and the\nEast; and we can but lightly glance at the early Teutonic people from\nwhom we are descended after the flesh.  It will sufficiently serve our\npurpose if we touch a few salient points among our more direct\nprogenitors in the life of the spirit.  And, after all, our richest\nsearch will be in the years nearest ourselves.\n\nBut no version of history simply as history gives an adequate basis for\nthe higher life.  That life must be worked out by each for himself,\nequipped as he finds himself by inheritance and circumstance, and\nguided largely by the sure and simple laws of conduct which he drew in\nwith his mother's milk.  Study and thought may help a little, and so\nsuch essays as the present are offered for whatever they may afford.\nOf all human studies, history, at its best,--the knowledge of whatever\nof worthiest the past of mankind affords,--such history is of all\nstudies most delightful and inspiring, for it is the contact through\nbooks with noble souls--and the touch of a great soul is a natural\nsacrament.  Such history has significance mainly as its events and\ncharacters find parallels in the mind that reads.  The soul of to-day,\ncatching from the past the voices of prophets and leaders, thrills with\na sense of kinship.  The story of American independence means most when\nthe reader has fought his own Bunker Hill, and wintered at Valley\nForge, and triumphed at Yorktown.  The death of Socrates has small\nsignificance unless something in the reader's heart answers to his\naffirmation that \"nothing evil can happen to a good man, in living or\ndying.\"  The life of Jesus and the story of Christianity are most fully\nunderstood when life's experience has brought the Mount of Vision and\nthe Garden of Gethsemane, the cross and passion, the resurrection, and\nthe coming of the Holy Spirit.\n\nThe interest of the present study is in the illustration of certain\ngreat spiritual laws.  These are laws of which every man may make proof\nfor himself.  He may find instances of their working in any close\nobservation of his nearest neighbor, or in reading his newspaper.  He\nmay find the clearest exemplification of them in studying the noblest\nmen and women he has known, or, if his life has been worth living, in\nrecalling the most critical and significant passages of his own\nexperience.  The reading of these laws is the latest and finest result\nof the experience of the race.  In their substance, they are\nacknowledged by all good men.  No wholly new path to goodness and\nhappiness is likely to be suddenly discovered; certainly no essentially\nnew ideal of what kind of goodness and happiness we are to seek.  The\nsaints and heroes are all of one fellowship, though they do not all\nspeak the same language.  In a word, there are certain traits of\ncharacter which all men whose opinion we value now recognize as\nsupremely worthy of cultivation.  To seek to know things as they really\nare; to fit our actions to our best knowledge; to conform in word and\nact to the truth as we see it; to seek the good of others as well as\nour own; to be sympathetic and responsive; to be open-eyed to beauty,\nopen-hearted to our fellow creatures; to be reverent and aspiring; to\nresolutely subject the lower elements of our nature to the higher; to\ntaste frankly and freely the innocent joys of life; to renounce those\njoys and accept privation, suffering, death, when duty calls,--such\npurposes and dispositions as these are unquestionably a true rule of\nlife.  The main theme to be illustrated in these pages is that this\nideal and rule is in itself an all-sufficient principle.  Fidelity to\nthe best we know, and search always for the best, is the natural road\nto peace and joy, the sure road to victory.  It is the key which opens\nto man the treasury of the universe.\n\nTo enforce and vivify this conception,--this interpretation of the key\nof life as consisting in fidelity to certain ideals of character,--we\ngo back to the memorable examples of the past.  We use those examples,\npartly to show how the spiritual laws always worked, the same\nyesterday, to-day, and forever; and partly to show how as time advanced\nthe laws have been understood with growing clearness, and applied with\ngrowing effectiveness.  The same stars shone above the sages of Chaldea\nas shine above us, but our astronomy is better than theirs.  The sages\nof Greece, the prophets of Palestine, the heroes of Rome, the saints of\nthe Middle Ages, the philanthropists and the scientists of to-day, each\nmade their special contribution to the spiritual astronomy.  From age\nto age men have read the heavens and the earth more clearly, and so\nmade of them a more friendly home.  Just as, too, there come times of\nmomentous progress in the physical world; the establishment of the\nCopernican theory, the discovery of a new continent, the mastering of\nelectricity,--so there are periods of swift advance and discovery in\nthe spiritual life, and such a birth-hour, of travail and of joy, comes\nin our own day.\n\nIn this hasty panorama of the past, then, the effort has been to give\nreal history.  But every student knows how transcendent and impossible\na thing it is to recall in its entirety and fullness any phase of the\npast.  Even the specialist can but partially open a limited province.\nSo with what confidence can one with no pretensions to original\nscholarship, however he may use the work of deeper students, express\nhis opinion on any special point in a survey of thirty centuries?  If,\naccordingly, any competent critic shall trouble himself to convict the\npresent writer of error: \"This view of Epictetus confuses the earlier\nand the later Stoics;\" or \"This account of the Hebrew prophets lacks\nthe latest fruit of research,\"--or, other like defect,--acknowledgment\nof such error as quite possible may be freely made in advance.  But, in\nour bird's-eye view of many centuries, any fault of detail will not be\nso serious as it would be if there were here attempted a chain of\nproofs, a formal induction, to establish from sure premises a safe\nconclusion.  Only of a subordinate importance is the detail of this\nhistory.  We say only: in this way, or some way like this, has been the\nascent.  The contribution of the Stoic was about so and so; the Hebrew\nprophet helped somewhat thus and thus.  But the ultimate, the essential\nfact we reach in the Ideal of To-day.  Here we are on firm ground.  The\nlaw we acknowledge, the light we follow,--these may be expressed with\nentire clearness and confidence.  The test they invite is present\nexperiment.  Nothing vital shall be staked on far-away history or\ndebatable metaphysics.\n\nIn the fivefold division of the book, \"Our Spiritual Ancestry\" is a\nbird's-eye view of the main line of advance, which culminates in \"The\nIdeal of To-Day.\"  A more leisurely retrospect of certain historical\npassages is given in \"A Traveler's Note-Book;\" thoughts on the present\naspect are grouped under \"Glimpses;\" and \"Daily Bread\" introduces a\nhomely and familiar treatment.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nOUR SPIRITUAL ANCESTRY\n\nThe ideas and sentiments which underlie the higher life of our time may\nbe largely traced back to two roots, the one Greek-Roman, the other\nHebrew.\n\nEach of these two races had originally a mythology made up partly of the\npersonification and worship of the powers of nature, and partly of the\ndeification of human traits or individual heroes.\n\n\nThe higher mind of the Greeks and Romans, in which the distinctive notes\nwere clear intelligence, love of beauty, and practical force, gradually\nbroke away altogether from the popular mythology, and sought to find in\nreason an explanation of the universe and a sufficient rule of life.\n\nThe Greek-Roman mythology made only an indirect and slight contribution\nto modern religion.  But the ethical philosophy and the higher poetry of\nthe two peoples belong not only to our immediate lineage but to our\npresent possessions.\n\nA humanity common with our own brings us into closest sympathy with\ncertain great personalities of this antique world.  Differences of time,\nrace, civilization, are powerless to prevent our intimate friendship and\nreverence for Homer, Sophocles, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Lucretius,\nEpictetus.\n\nHomer shows the opening of eyes and heart to this whole wonderful world\nof nature and of man.\n\nSophocles sees human life in its depth of suffering and height of\nachievement.  He views mingled spectacle with profound reverence, sure\nthat through it all is working some divine power.  Goodness is dear to\nthe gods, wickedness is abhorrent to them.  But the good man is often\nunhappy,--from strange inheritance of curse, or from complication of\nevents which no wisdom can baffle.  Yet from the discipline of suffering\nemerges the noblest character, and over the grave itself play gleams of\nhope, faint but celestial.\n\nIn Socrates, we see the man who having in himself attained a solid and\nnoble goodness, addresses all his powers to finding a clear road by which\nall men may be led into goodness.  He first propounds in clearness the\nmost important question of humanity,--how shall man by reason and by will\nbecome master of life?\n\nPlato takes up the question after him, and follows it with an intellect\nunequaled in its imaginative flight.  Plato lighted the fire which has\nburned high in the enthusiasts of the spirit,--the mystics, the dreamers,\nthe idealists.\n\nAristotle confined himself to the homelier province where demonstration\nis possible, and laid the foundation of logic and of natural science.\n\nLucretius resolutely puts away from him the whole pageant of fictitious\nreligion.  He scouts its terrors, and scorns to depend on unreal\nconsolation.  He addresses himself to the intellectual problem of the\nuniverse, and decides that all is ruled by material laws.\n\nIn Epictetus man reverts from the problem of the universe to the problem\nof the soul.  The beauty of the Greek world has faded, the stern Roman\nworld has trained its best spirits to live with resolute self-mastery.\nThe mythologic gods are no longer worth talking about for serious men.\nBut here is the great actual business of living,--it can be met in manly\ntemper, and be made a scene of lofty satisfaction and serene tranquillity.\n\nEpictetus was the consummate expression of that Stoic philosophy in which\nwere blended the clearness of Greek thought and the austerity of the best\nRoman life.  Stoicism reverted from all universe-schemes, spiritual or\nmaterialist, to the conduct of human life which Socrates had propounded\nas the essential theme.  The Stoic affirmed that all good and evil reside\nfor man in his own will, and that simply in always choosing the right\nrather than the wrong he may find supreme satisfaction.  Epictetus\nexpresses this in the constant tone of heroism and victory.  In the more\nfeminine nature of Marcus Aurelius the same ideas yield a beautiful\nfidelity along with a habitual sadness.\n\nStoicism was the noblest attainment of the Greek-Roman world.  It was a\nclear and fearless application of reason to human life, with little\nattempt to solve the mystery of the universe.  It gave an ideal and rule\nto thoughtful, robust, and masculine natures.  It made small provision\nfor the ignorant, the weak, or the feminine.  Its watchwords were Reason,\nNature, Will.\n\n\nThe distinction of the Hebrew development was that the higher minds took\nup the popular mythology, elevated and purified it.  The Hebrew genius\nwas not intellectual but ethical and emotional.  The typical Hebrew guide\nwas not a philosopher but a prophet.  Through a development of many\ncenturies the popular religion from polytheistic became monotheistic, and\nfrom worshiping the sun and fire came to worship an embodiment of\nrighteousness and of supreme power.  An ideal of character grew up--in\nclose association with religious worship and ceremonial--in which the\ncentral virtues were justice, benevolence, and chastity.  The sentiments\nof the family, the nation, and the church were fused in one.  Its outward\nexpression was an elaborate ceremonial.  Its heart was a passion which in\none direction dashed the little province against the whole power of Rome;\nin another channel, preserved a people intact and separate through twenty\ncenturies of dispersal and subjection; while, in another aspect, it gave\nbirth to Jesus and to Christianity.\n\n\nJesus was one of the great spiritual geniuses of the race,--so far as we\nknow, the greatest.  The highest ideas of Judaism he sublimated,\nintensified, and expressed in universal forms.  Indifferent to the\nceremonial of his people, he taught that the essence of religion lay in\nspirit and in conduct.\n\nThe holy and awful Deity was to him a tender Father.  The whole duty of\nman to man was love.  Chastity of the body was exalted to purity of the\nheart.  He lived close to the common people; taught, helped, healed them;\ncaressed their children, pitied their outcasts, laid hands on the lepers,\nand calmed the insane.  He brooded on the expectation of some great\nfuture which earlier seers had impressed on the popular thought, and saw\nas in prophetic vision the near approach of the perfect triumph of\nholiness and love.  Overshadowed by danger, his hope and faith menaced as\nby denying Fate, he rallied from the shock, trusted the unseen Power, and\nwent serenely to a martyr's death.\n\n\nJesus had roused a passion of personal devotion among the poor, the\nignorant, the true-hearted whom he had taught and called.  When he was\ndead, that devotion flamed out in the assertion, He lives again!  We have\nseen him!  He will speedily return!  The Jewish belief in a bodily\nresurrection and a Messianic kingdom gave form to this faith, and\nunbounded love and imagination gave intensity and vividness.  That Jesus\nwas risen from the dead became the cardinal article of the new society\nwhich grew up around his grave.  His moral precepts, his parables, his\nacts, his personality,--the personality of one who was alike the child of\nGod and the friend of sinners,--these were enshrined in a new mythology.\nA society, enthusiastic, aggressive; at first divided into factions; then\nblending in a common creed and rule of life; a loyalty to an invisible\nleader; a sanguine hope of speedy triumph, cooling into more remote\nexpectation, and in the finer spirits transforming into a present\nspiritual communion; a growing elaboration of organization, priesthood,\nritual, mythology; a diffusion through vast masses of people of the new\nreligion, and a corresponding depreciation of its quality,--this was the\nearly stage of Christianity.  It vanquished and destroyed the Greek-Roman\nmythology, already half dead.  Philosophy strove with it in vain,--there\nwas no real meeting-ground between the two systems.  The final appeal of\nthe Stoic was to reason.  The Christian theologians thought they\nreasoned, but their argumentation was feeble save at one point.  But that\nwas the vital point,--experience.  Christianity, in its mixture of ardor,\ncredulity, and morality had somehow a power to give to common men and\nwomen a nobility and gladness of living which Stoicism could not inspire\nin them.  So it was the worthier of the two antagonists that triumphed in\nthe strife.\n\nIdeally, there ought to have been no strife.  Christianity and ethical\nphilosophy ought to have worked side by side, until the religion of\nReason and the religion of Love understood each other and blended in one.\nDestined they were to blend, but not for thousands of years.  The new\nreligion brooked no rivalry and no rebellion.  It swayed the world\ndespotically, but the beginning and secret of its power was that it had\ncaptured the world's heart.  Its best watchwords were Faith, Hope, Love.\n\nIn a word, civilized mankind, having outgrown the earlier nature-worship,\nand having found the philosophic reason inadequate to provide a\nsatisfying way of life, accepted a new mythology, because it was inspired\nby ideas which were powerful to guide, to inspire, and to console.  For\nmany centuries we shall look in vain for any serious study of human life\nexcept in conformity to the Christian mythology.\n\n\nThe Roman world was submerged by the invasion of the northern tribes.\nThere was a violent collision of peoples, manners, sentiments, usages; a\nsubversion of the luxurious, intelligent, refined, and effete\ncivilization; a rough infusion of barbaric vigor and barbaric ignorance.\nThe marvelous conflict, commingling, and emergence of a thousand years,\nthrough which the classic society was replaced by the mediaeval society,\ncannot even be summarized in these brief paragraphs.  The point on which\nour theme requires attention is that the religion of this period had its\nform and substance in the Catholic church; and of this church the twin\naspects were an authoritative government administered by popes, councils,\nbishops, and priests, and a conception of the supernatural world equally\ndefinite and authoritative, which dominated the intellects and\nimaginations of man with its Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven.  The visible\nchurch and the invisible world of which the church held the\ninterpretation and the key,--this concrete fact, and this faith the\ncounterpart of the fact, were the bases and pillars of the religion of\nEurope for many centuries.\n\nWe are not required to balance the merits and faults of this mediaeval\nreligion.  It was a mighty power, so long as it commanded the\nunquestioning intellectual assent of the world, and so long as upon the\nwhole it exemplified and enforced, beyond any other human agency, the\nhighest moral and spiritual ideals men knew.\n\nIts supremacy was favored by the complete subordination of all\nintellectual life which was an incident of the barbaric conquest and the\nfeudal society which followed.  Even before those events the human\nintellect seemed to flag.  The old classicism and the new Christianity\nnever so wedded as to produce either an adequate civic virtue or a great\nintellectual movement.  In the Dark Ages which followed, learning shrank\ninto the narrow channels of the cloister, and literature almost ceased as\na creative force.  For almost a thousand years--from Augustine to\nDante--Europe scarcely produced a book which has high intrinsic value for\nour time.  When intellectual energy woke again in Italy and then in the\nNorth, the ecclesiastical conception had inwrought itself in human\nthought.\n\nAlong with authority and dogmas there developed an elaborate ceremonial,\nappealing through the senses to the imagination and the spiritual sense.\nFor the multitude it involved a habitual confusion of the symbol with the\nsubstance of religion.  In an age when the highest minds lived in an\natmosphere of profound ignorance, and philosophy was childish, there was\nwrought out the full doctrine of the Mass and its accompaniments,--a\nliteral transformation of the bread and wine of the sacrament into the\nbody and blood of Christ, powerful to impart a saving grace.  The power\nto work this miracle was the supreme weapon of the priesthood.\n\nWe may glance at the mediaeval religion in its culmination in the three\nfigures of Dante, Francis of Assisi, and Thomas a Kempis.  A Kempis shows\nreligion fled from the active world with its strifes and temptations,\nsedulously cultivating a pure, devout, unworldly virtue; feeding on the\ncontemplation of heavenly splendors and infernal horrors; self-centred\nand inglorious.  The opposite type is Frances, a joyful prophet of glad\ntidings to the poor; ardent, sympathetic, heroic; touched with the beauty\nof nature and the appeal of the animal creation; exalting simplicity and\npoverty like an ancient philosopher; seeking the needy and sorrowful like\nJesus of Nazareth; but with no spiritual originality like Jesus, no power\nto create a new religion; strong only to revive the best elements of the\ntraditional faith, and to organize a society which erelong sank back to\nthe general level of the church.\n\nDante is an embodiment of mediaeval belief in its most sublime and\nintense phase.  He has much of the temper of the Hebrew psalmist, in his\ntremendous love and hate, his patriotism, his sorrow, his quest for the\nhighest.  This vast spiritual passion finds its expression and\nsatisfaction in an invisible world, which promises in a future existence\nthe supreme triumph and reign of a divine justice, wrath, and pity, and\nfor which the visible world is but antechamber and probation.  Dante\nshows the culmination of supernatural Christianity, but he has something\nfurther.  The guide of his pilgrimage, the star of his hope, the\ninspiration of his life, is a woman,--loved with sublimation and\ntenderness, loved better after her death, and felt as the living link\nbetween the seen and unseen worlds.  Thus at the heart of the old\nsupernaturalism is the germ of a new conception, in which human love\nsanctified by death becomes the revealer.\n\nIn Dante we feel that the projection of human interest to an unseen and\nfuture world has reached its furthest limit.  The mind of man must needs\nrevert to some nearer home and sphere.  And closely following Dante we\nsee in England a group of figures who betoken the return.  There is\nChaucer, displaying the various energy and joy and humor of earthly life.\nThere is Piers Plowman, showing the grim obverse of the medal, the\nhardship and woe of the poor.  Wyclif insists on a personal religion,\nwhose austere edge turns against ecclesiastical pretense and social\nwrong; and he applies reason so daringly that it cuts at the very centre\nof the church's dogma, in denying Transubstantiation.  A little earlier\nwe see Roger Bacon making a fresh beginning in the experimental\nphilosophy which had been slighted for centuries.  These four are the\nprecursors respectively of the purely human view, as in Shakspere, of the\nelevation of the poor, of Protestantism, and of natural science.\n\n\nAs pagan mythology, Stoicism, and Judaism all were superseded by early\nChristianity, as that in turn was succeeded by mediaeval Catholicism, so\nanother stage has brought us to the religion of to-day.  The leading\nfeatures of this last transition may be summarily sketched, we may then\nglance at certain groups of figures illustrating the advance in its\nsuccessive periods, and so we shall come to the ideal of the present.\n\nThe religious transition of the last four centuries is in one aspect\nmarked by the waning of authority and the growth of individual freedom;\nand in another aspect it is the substitution for a supernatural of a\nnatural conception, or, we may say, in place of a divided and warring\nuniverse, a harmonious universe.\n\nIn this double progress toward individual liberty and toward a new way of\nthought, a conspicuous agency has been the advance of knowledge.\nConnected with the advance of knowledge has been an improvement of the\nactual conditions of human life.  Meantime the ethical sense and the\nspiritual aspiration of mankind have asserted themselves, sometimes as\nslow-working, permanent forces, sometimes in revolutionary upheaval.\nWith change both of material condition and of ways of thought, new forms\nof sentiment and aspiration have appeared,--a wider and tenderer\nhumanity; a reverence for the order of nature and dependence upon the\nstudy of that order for human progress; a consciousness of the sublimity\nand beauty of nature as a divine revelation; a reliance upon the powers\nand intuitions of the human spirit as its only and sufficient guides; a\nrediscovery under natural and universal forms of the faith and hope which\nwere once supposed inseparably bound up with ritual, dogma, and miracle,\nbut which now when given freer wing find firmer support and loftier scope.\n\nAlong with these forces has gone the steady push of human nature for\nenjoyment, for ease, for power; the grasp of man for all he can get of\nwhatever seems to him the highest good.  There have been mutual injuries,\ndegradations, retrogressions, such as darken all the pages of human\nhistory; the manifest evil which often defies all interpretation, and\nwhich only a profound faith can regard as \"good in the making.\"\n\nTogether with these influences we must also reckon the special action of\nstrong personalities.\n\nNo sharp line can be drawn between these various powers,--their interplay\nis constant.  The main argument of the drama, from the mediaeval to the\npresent phase, may be briefly shown.\n\n\nInto the world as Dante knew it came Knowledge on three great\nlines,--opening the material universe, rediscovering a lost\ninterpretation of life, and diffusing the secrets of the few among the\nmany.  The astronomers, voyagers, and geographers found out a new heaven\nand a new earth.  The revival of Greek literature gave to the cultivated\nclass a \"renaissance,\" a rebirth, of speculative thought, of intellectual\nbeauty, of delight in human activities for their own sake.  It was a new\nbirth in some of the old pagan sensuality, skeptical of heaven or hell;\nworse than the old sensuality because it trampled down the finer purity\nwhich Christianity had bred.  In others it was a new birth to the pursuit\nof moral and social good, inspired by the master spirits of Judaism and\nearly Christianity.  Then came the invention of printing, and the\naristocracy of intelligence widened rapidly toward democracy.\n\nThe foremost men of the new knowledge supported the Catholic church,\neither as a covert for indulgence or as a spiritual agency to be\nmaintained and purified.  The successful rebel against the church was a\npeasant-priest, who revolted because the moral unsoundness which long had\nsapped the hierarchy ran at last into open countenance of vice.  It was\noriginally a moral revolt, and it was led by a man who knew in his own\nexperience that not only the ethical but the emotional life of the spirit\nwas possible without dependence on the church of Rome.  But neither\nLuther nor any of the reformers were men of spiritual originality.\nDriven to construct a new creed, they simply worked over the old dogmas,\ndivesting them of the keys of priestly power--the Mass, the confessional,\nabsolution, Purgatory, and the like; and giving infallible authority to\nthe Bible only.  A war of creeds followed, mingled with a strife of\nambitions and a struggle between the powers of the secular state and of\nthe hierarchy.  To men of piety and peace like Erasmus and Melanchthon it\nseemed as if religion were only a loser by the long period of bloodshed\nand bitterness that followed.  The gain, as we see it, was that half of\nEurope was wrested from the dominion of the Catholic church; that that\nchurch was driven to purify its morals; and that in the Protestant states\nthe liberty which at first was only a change of masters spread gradually,\nas one sect after another established its foothold, and as the secular\ntemper in the state rose above the ecclesiastical, until the religious\nfreedom of the individual is at last becoming generally and securely\nestablished.\n\nOnly by this overthrow of ecclesiastical authority was rendered possible\nthat unchecked freedom of intellectual inquiry which has been the great\npositive factor in modern advance.  Step by step men have learned to know\nthe condition, the history, the natural laws of the material world in\nwhich they live and the social world of which they are a part.  The\nbearing of this growing knowledge on the conception of the spiritual life\nhas been various,--seeming for a while to lie wholly apart from it; then\nat times menacing its existence or contracting its scope; again arming it\nwith powerful weapons and enlarging its ideals.  Of the latest chapters\nin the story of science, one has retold the origin of Christianity,\ndivested it of miracle and revelation, and translated it into purely\nnatural and human terms.  Another chapter has fixed the general trend of\nthe universe known to man as an ever advancing and broadening movement,\nunder the name of Evolution.\n\nAmid all these changes the Christian church has continued to present its\nideals, precepts, incitements; partly affirming them in contradiction of\nall denial, partly adapting them to the changes of time and thought.  The\nmoral and spiritual interpretation of life has not been confined to the\nchurch, but has been voiced in each generation by poets, moralists,\nreformers, statesmen, each after his thought.  Out of the conflict and\nconfusion a substantial agreement and harmonious ideal is at last\nappearing.  More clearly and confidently in our day than ever before the\nuniverse may be seen and felt by man as a Cosmos,--a beautiful order.\n\n\nThis bird's-eye view will grow more distinct and vivid if we study\ncertain typical figures which group themselves as the representatives of\nsucceeding generations.  Our conventional division of centuries will\nserve as a convenient framework for four groups.\n\nIn the sixteenth century we have Sir Thomas More, uniting the highest\nvirtue of the church with the clearest intelligence of the new thought,\nand setting forth in Utopia the ideal to be sought,--not mere individual\nsalvation, not an ecclesiastical fold, but a human commonwealth of free,\nhappy, and virtuous citizens.\n\nInstead of the peaceful growth of such a society,--made impossible by\nselfishness, ignorance, and passion,--comes social upheaval and religious\nrevolution, its central figure the burly, heroic, great-hearted Luther;\nby turns a rebel and a conservative; leading the successful revolt of\nTeutonic Europe against Rome, but leaving reconstruction to other hands.\n\nThen we have Calvin, the builder of the creed of Protestantism; in its\nsubstance little but a symmetrical statement of mediaeval ideas, but\nresting its appeal not on authority, but logic; or, more exactly, on the\nauthority of a book, which, having no longer an infallible interpreter,\nmust be judged by human reason as to its contents and at last as to its\nnature and origin.  Thus, unconsciously, Calvin initiated a religious\ndemocracy and ultimately a religion of reason; while for the time he\nestablished a creed more austere and grim than the Catholic.  Opposite\nhim stands Loyola, the reviver of Catholicism, infusing it with a new\nheroism and self-sacrifice; reaffirming and intensifying its authority;\nscornful of speculation, powerful in organization; zealot, missionary,\neducator; giving to ecclesiastical obedience an added emphasis, to\norganization a new force.\n\n\nFor a typical group in the next century, let us take Francis Bacon,\nleading the human intellect away from abstractions and from other worlds\nto the close, intelligent study of the material world in which men live.\nBeside him stands Shakspere, reading the world of humanity with eyes\nneither biased by creed nor sublimed by faith; portraying with marvelous\nrange the joys, sorrows, humors of mankind; showing on his impartial\ncanvas a true humanity, far different from the fictitious saint and\nfictitious sinner of the theologian; showing, as with the truth of\nnature, \"virtue in her shape how lovely;\" but with no consolation beside\nthe grave, no satisfying ideal for man's pursuit nor rule for man's\nguidance.  Near him we see \"the Shakspere of divines,\" Jeremy Taylor; he,\ntoo, is close to the realities of life, but he is planted firm on the\nbelief in a supernatural revelation of God, Christ, and a hereafter, and\nfor those who so believe offers a simple, noble way of \"Holy Living and\nDying.\"\n\nIn Cromwell is embodied the attempt of extreme Protestantism to mould\nsociety and the state by the authority of a supernatural religion.  The\nPuritan creed for which he stands is a mixture of Hebraic and Calvinistic\nelements; the Puritan temper is at its best heroic and austere, made\ndespotic by its confidence of divine authority, and by its\nsupernaturalism made indifferent to the new science and to the various\nelements of human nature on which statesmanship must build.  Its\npolitical sway is brief, its effects on English and American character\nare lasting.\n\nIn the next century the master minds stand outside of Christianity.\nVoltaire assails the whole ecclesiastical and supernatural fabric with\nterrible weapons of hard sense and derision.  For the target of his\narrows he has a church at once corrupt, tyrannical, and weak, and a creed\nwhich the best intelligence has outgrown.  He heartily scouts the church,\ndogma, miracle; admits a vague Deity and a possible hereafter, but cares\nlittle for them; is fearless, jovial, generous,--a rollicking,\ncomfortable, formidable apostle of negations.\n\nInto the vacuum he creates comes Rousseau, and at his touch there well up\nagain deep fountains of feeling, belief, desire.  Rousseau, too, has left\nbehind him the church and its dogmas; but he craves love, joy, action,\nand finds scope for them.  He delights in nature's beauty, and it is the\nsymbol to him of a God in whom there remains of the Christian Deity only\nthe element of beneficence.  He exhorts men to return to nature, but it\nis a somewhat unreal nature, a dream of primeval innocence and\nsimplicity.  He idealizes the family relation, and brings wisdom and\ngentleness to the training of the child.  He lacks the Hebraic and\nPuritan stress on conscience; the mild benevolence of his Deity is\nsomewhat remote from the ethical need of man and from the actual\nprocedure or the universe; Rousseau himself is tainted with\nsensuality,--a diseased, suffering, pathetic nature, with \"sweet strings\njangled,\" worthy of pity and of gratitude.\n\nIn France, the highest intelligence was at war with established\ninstitutions,--the Encyclopaedists, Voltaire, Rousseau, against the\nCatholic church and the reigning authorities: on the one side\npersecution, but growing feeble; on the other side derision or evasion or\nattack.  In England, a large measure of civil and religious freedom gave\nthe intellectual combatants a fairer field and a milder temper.  The\nEnglish genius showed itself as practical, matter-of-fact, and moderate.\nSupernatural Christianity was attacked and defended; against the assault\non the miracles the defense was really a shifting of the ground, and an\ninsistence as by Butler on an ethical order in the observed workings of\nthe world, which gives a sort of analogue and support to the Christian\nscheme of future retribution.  In speculative thought the prevailing\nschool, as in Locke, approached reality from the side of sense-knowledge,\ntill Hume showed how this road led to a denial of miracle and in\nphilosophy to a fundamental skepticism.  Berkeley reverted to the ideal\nphilosophy, and there seemed but a continuance of the eternal seesaw of\nmetaphysics.\n\nIn Germany, Kant sank his plummet deeper.  He found indeed in the working\nof the pure intellect an outcome of self-contradiction.  But he\nrecognized, as the most certain guide to reality which man's inner world\naffords, the commanding sense of duty,--the \"moral imperative;\" and\nthrough this he found the presence and the authoritative voice of a moral\ndeity.\n\nGoethe lived through a rich and various experience, of book-culture,\nemotion, conversance with men and affairs, in the attitude of an explorer\nand observer, unbound by creeds, but open to all teaching from past\nrecords or present impressions.  The projection of this experience was an\nideal of life which gave large scope to all human faculties,--to\nknowledge, pleasure, passion, service,--under a wise self-control, and\nwith theoretical allegiance to a moral law and a future hope not unlike\nthe law and the hope of Christianity.  It was an ideal which appealed\nonly to the man of intellectual habit, and which lacked the note of\nheroism and self-sacrifice.\n\nIt was the opposite quality, the passion of self-forgetful service, which\nwon for Christianity its most notable triumph in this century, in the\nmovement led by John Wesley.  In Wesley, Protestantism came back to the\nrescue of the poor, as Catholicism came back in Francis of Assisi.  Among\nthe peasants and colliers of England, among the backwoodsmen of America,\nswept an uplifting wave of love, joy, and hope.\n\nJonathan Edwards did Christianity the service of carrying Calvinism to\nits logical extreme, and showing what it really meant. He started in\nthe New England ministry a strenuous speculation, which was not to\nrest till it destroyed the foundation from which he worked. The hell\nas to which comfortable churchmen were getting silent, he painted in\nsuch lurid colors that reaction and ultimate revolt were necessities\nof human nature. The life of holiness and love--in himself a most\ngenuine reality--he defined in such terms of introspection and\nself-consciousness, that there opened a wide gulf between the forms of\nreligion and the most sturdy and natural virtue of the time.\n\nThat sturdy and natural virtue was embodied in Benjamin Franklin,--in all\nthis eighteenth century the best type and herald of the coming\ndevelopment of man.  Franklin inherited the characteristic virtue of the\nEnglishman and the Puritan; he started in ground which Puritan and Quaker\nhad fertilized, and when the fire of the early zeal had cooled; he worked\nout the problem of life for himself with great independence and entire\ngood sense.  After a few vagaries and some wholesome buffeting, he\ndetermined that \"moral perfection\" was the only satisfying aim.  But\ninstead of proclaiming his discovery as a gospel, he quietly utilized it\nfor his personal guidance.  He had a keen eye for all utility; he carved\nout his own fortune; he early identified his own happiness with that of\nthe people around him, and served the community with disinterested\nfaithfulness through a long life.  That unselfish beneficence, of which\nGoethe thought a single instance was enough to save his hero from the\nfiend to whom he had fairly forfeited his selfish soul, was the habit of\nFranklin's lifetime.  He found the ample sanctions and rewards of virtue\nin the present world, though he held a cheerful hope of something beyond.\nIn the study of this world's laws, he saw, lay the best road to human\nsuccess.  He recognized the homely virtues of industry and thrift, on\nwhich the young American society had worked out its real strength, and\nassigned to them the fundamental place, instead of that mystic and\nintrospective piety which the Calvinist made his corner-stone.  He took\nthe lead in penetrating the secrets of nature, and not less in moulding\nand guiding the infant nation.  If his virtue was prudential rather than\nheroic, his prudence was close to that large wisdom which is a right\napprehension of all the facts of life.  Only the realm of the poet, the\nmystic, the ardent lover, lay beyond his ken.  He stands side by side\nwith the grand and magnanimous figure of Washington,--the twin founders\nof the American republic.\n\n\nThe complexity and onrush of the nineteenth century may be in some degree\nmade clear if we fix our eyes on certain typical groups of men whom we\nmay classify under the aspects of Knowledge, Philosophy, Literature,\nProtestantism, Catholicism, Social Ideals, Personal Ideals.\n\nRegarding under Knowledge what may fairly be considered as solid and\nirreversible acquisition,--the general movement of humanity has received\nconspicuous interpretation by Darwin, who by most patient investigation\ndiscovered at least approximately the path by which man has been\ndeveloped out of the lower animal forms.  Spencer has shown, by a vast\ngeneralization of facts, the working throughout all realms of existence\nknown to man of certain common tendencies--of variation and new and\nspecialized formation.  Apart from all debatable theories of psychology\nand metaphysics, he and a host of other students in the same direction\nhave discovered clews by which the growth of human societies and their\nindividual members can be in some degree traced under general laws.\n\nIn another department of knowledge the sacred histories of Christianity\nhave been given a new reading by scholars, among whom Strauss, Baur, and\nRenan are conspicuous.  The general result has been to show that these\nscriptures are purely human documents, and the personages they describe\nare purely human.  Through the gospel histories Strauss ran his critical\ntheory like a plowshare through a field of daisies.  He showed especially\nthe genesis of many of these stories by imagination working creations out\nof Old Testament texts.  Baur led the way in discovering by marvelous\nanalysis the composite influences which helped to shape the apostolic\nhistories in the interest of party or of piety.  Renan reillumined the\nscene which his predecessors seemed to convert into a dreary waste, by\nreconceiving, with erudition illumined by genius and sympathy, the\npersonality of Jesus of Nazareth as a human character, nowise infallible,\nbut a sublime leader of the race.  While Christianity has thus been\nbrought to the level of a natural religion, its old-time adversaries, the\nother world-religions such as Buddhism, Brahmanism, Islamism, have been\nshown by sympathetic students to be vast upward essays of mankind toward\ntruth and goodness.  That no religion is handed down complete from\nheaven, and that all religions are expressions of human aspiration and\neffort, is coming to be accepted as axiomatic.\n\nTurning from well-established knowledge to theoretical schemes of the\nuniverse, the three typical names in this century are Hegel, Comte, and\nSpencer.  Hegel stood for the interpretation of all existence in terms of\nman's inner world--thought and being are regarded as identical, and the\nmovement of thought, expressed by a new kind of logic, becomes\ninterpreter of the development of the universe.  In absolute revulsion\nfrom this tendency, Comte in his world-scheme rejected metaphysics and\ntheology alike as belonging to the infantile stage of man, and recognized\nas legitimate only the \"positive\" knowledge which science affords.  For\nthe emotional and ethical needs of man, he offered \"the religion of\nhumanity,\" with the service of mankind as its worship and woman as its\npriestess.  Spencer, equally discarding the supernatural as matter of\nknowledge, relegates the distinctively religious emotion to awe before a\nsupreme power wholly inscrutable to man.  He sets himself to formulate so\nfar as possible the observed workings of the universe in which man is a\npart; he makes Evolution the central principle; he finds in Heredity and\nEnvironment the great formative influences upon the individual; and he\nreaffirms as of supreme importance the familiar ethical principles which\nmankind has discovered in its experiences.\n\nIn all these forms, the constructive philosophy of our century has\nvisibly fallen short of the immense volume of old and new truths which it\nhas striven to mould and formulate.  The characteristic genius of the\ntime is shown more powerfully on the one hand in the accumulation of\nspecific knowledge, as science; and on the other hand in the imaginative\nportrayal of human life.  The favorite vehicle of imagination has been\nthe novel.  If our successors hereafter desire to know how man in the\nnineteenth century appeared to himself, their best guides will be such as\nScott, Hawthorne, Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, Hugo, Balzac.  It is\nthe children of Bacon and those of Shakspere who are most conspicuous in\nthe work of yesterday.  To-day we seem to stand on the threshold of a\nmore inclusive, more profound, more inspiring philosophy.\n\nThe Christian church has, like all other institutions, been deeply\naffected by the time-spirit.  In Protestantism, the great developments\nhave been a modification of the creed, and a transfer of energy from the\nwinning of a future salvation to the working out of a present salvation\nfor the individual and for society.  The creed has been changed, in\nspirit more widely than in form, partly under the influence of reason and\npartly through a reawakening of spiritual and humane feeling.\nSchleiermacher interpreted Christianity as an emotional and ethical\nexperience, rather than a dogmatic system.  In the English church, while\none refluent wave swept toward a dogmatic authority and ritualistic\nsplendor like that of Rome, on another side the effort to reconcile the\nchurch with modern thought and fit it to modern society was carried\nfarther and farther by Coleridge, Arnold, Robertson, Maurice, Kingsley,\nand Stanley; till the advance has met a sharp check at the point where\nrejection of miracle involves a collision with the formularies of\nworship.  In America, a like advance has had the advantage of that more\nelastic polity which allows to churches of the Congregational order an\neasier change of creed and worship.  The leaders have been, in the\nUnitarian line, such as Channing, who purified Christianity of its\nCalvinistic harshness and then of its Athanasian metaphysics; and Parker,\nwho took the great step to simple theism,--Christian in ethics and piety,\nbut purely naturalistic in theology.  In the other great branch of the\nNew England church,--for in New England alone has America shown religious\noriginality,--Bushnell in a scholastic way, and Beecher with poetic and\npopular power, resolved the dogmatic system into a supremacy in the\nuniverse of love and holiness, embodied in a deity who became actually\nincarnated as Christ.  Phillips Brooks, exercising a spiritual power of\nextraordinary purity and intensity, and so unspeculative that he felt no\ndifficulty in the formulae of the Episcopal church, taught a religion in\nwhich Christ represents a sublimed and perfect humanity, a realized\nideal, the inspiration and helper of men who are his brothers.\n\nIn the Catholic church, two Popes stand as representative, Plus IX. and\nLeo XIII.  Under the first, the monarchic system of the church was made\ncomplete, and the highest function of the Council, the definition of\nreligious truth, was assigned to the Pope.  By Leo XIII. this autocracy\nis administered in sympathy largely with modern ideas.  The church allies\nitself less with the temporal monarch than with the common people.  It\nthrows much of its force into ethical channels.  Its characteristic\ninterest is in education, temperance, social reform; and along with these\nit still ministers publicly and privately to that communion with God in\nwhich it places the foundation and secret of human life.  Its limitations\nare that it still claims not only to persuade but to rule--a useful\nfunction toward some classes, but impossible toward other classes; that\nits pretension to infallibility obliges it to misread history; and that\nits foundation of dogma admits no frank and full reconciliation with\nmodern knowledge.\n\nBut to know the full mind and heart of our age, we must again take a\nsurvey beyond the church walls.  The emotional forces which have moved\nthe world have been largely in the direction of certain social\naspirations.  The first was for Liberty--freedom from the tyranny of\nking's and priests.  It won its first great victory in America, where the\nWar of Independence and the making of the Constitution marked by a brave\nstruggle and a masterpiece of good sense the consummation of many years'\ngrowth of an English shoot in virgin soil.  England herself has followed\nwith more unequal steps to a similar result.  In France, there was\nvolcanic explosion which convulsed Europe.  The other Continental states\nhave variously followed, save Russia, which as yet lies impotent under\ndespotism.  Following the substantial success of the effort for Liberty,\nor blending with it, came the aspiration for a better Social Order.  In\none phase, this worked toward the consolidation of nations on natural\nlines of race and history, as in Germany and Italy.  In America, the two\nideas of universal Freedom and national Union, conflicting for a while\nwith each other, blent at last and triumphed after a mighty struggle.\nThe supreme figure in that struggle was Abraham Lincoln; who in his\npublic capacity illustrated how the most complicated problems of\nstatesmanship find their best solution through good-will, resolution,\npatience, and homely shrewdness; while in his own life he showed that a\nman may rise above misfortune and melancholy, unaided by creed or church,\nworking only by absolute fidelity to the right as he sees the right, till\nhe renders to his fellows a supreme service and wins their unbounded love.\n\nThe aspiration for Social Order pauses not when it has won national unity\nand harmony.  The principle and the result of the existing industrial\nsystem no longer content those who live under it.  That system has been\nstimulated by the enormous material acquisitions which have flowed from\ninvention.  It has improved in some degree the condition of most members\nof society, but with a marked inequality in the improvement, and at the\ncost of the mutual hostility which unchecked competition involves, and\nwhich is fruitful in moral mischief and material waste.  The laborer has\ngained in intelligence by the school and the newspaper; holding the vote,\nhe feels himself one of the masters of the state; sympathy draws him to\nhis own class.  The scholar sees that the system of unchecked competition\nis an outgrowth of conditions which are changing, and which ought to\nchange.  The idealist longs for a society which shall effectually seek\nthe highest good of every member, and supplement the hunger for personal\nadvantage with satisfaction in the good of all.  The toiler and the\nidealist unite to seek a more generous and serviceable order in the\ncommunity, and the tendency is vaguely called Socialism.  One conspicuous\nexponent is Karl Marx, who, with his followers, would make the highly\ncentralized German state the starting-point for a still more\nauthoritative and minute regulation of the community, directed to the\nequal material benefit of all its members.  By a different road a degree\nof fraternal organization is being attained, through voluntary\nassociations of workingmen, for mutual support as toward their employers,\nor for independent production or distribution.  All definite and dogmatic\nschemes of social reform prove upon challenge to need adjustment and\nmodification, to fit the actual workings of a society already infinitely\ncomplex.  It is as the sentiment which for want of a better word we call\nsocialistic works along with that broad and candid study of fact which we\ncall scientific, and toward an ideal in which the material is but an\ninstrument of the spiritual,--that there is solid promise of advance.\n\nWith these sentiments of Liberty and Social Order may be named what is\nsometimes called Philanthropy, or in a broader way of speaking may be\nnamed Humanity,--the unselfish passion for the good of others, the ardor\nof service, to which early Christianity gave outlet in missions, and\nwhich now throws itself into reform, education, amelioration in every\ndirection of human need.\n\nMore central to man than any social ideal is the personal ideal.  For\nsociety is but an aggregation of units; state, church, community, family,\nhave their aim and outcome in the individual man; they are serviceable\nonly as through them he becomes good and happy.  What new interpretations\nhas this century seen of the personal ideal?  They may partly be read in\na group of poets of the English-speaking people.  Wordsworth, loyal to\nthe forms of the old Christianity, shows life as really sustained and\ngladdened by simple duty and by the sacramental beauty of nature--one\ngiving the rule of conduct, the other disclosing the divinity of the\nworld.  Tennyson gives in \"In Memoriam\" that interpretation of human life\nwhich comes when love is sublimed by death.  Browning shows the soul face\nto face with the doubt, the denial, the dismay, which are added to the\nfoes of human peace in an age which has lost the old faith, and shows the\nsoul victorious over all by its own energy, constancy, and joy.  In\nWhittier, the dogmatic system of Christianity is transformed into a\nspirit of fidelity, brotherhood, and tender trust.  Emerson gives that\ndirect vision of divine reality, seen in nature, in humanity, in the\nheart's innermost recesses, which is possible to a soul purified by moral\nfidelity, reverent of natural law, and winged by holy desire.\n\nThese have been the prophets of hope and of victory.  The dark message of\ndefeat and despair has also had its full expression.  Satiety with\nmaterial good, disappointment of inward joy, the loss of the old objects\nof adoration and trust, have inspired utterances in every key of gloom,\nimpotence, despondency verging toward suicide.  Schopenhauer has\nformulated a philosophy of pessimism, and through a host of the minor\nstory-tellers and versifiers runs the note of discouragement and\nabandonment.  The most dangerous alliance which besets man is that\nbetween Sensuality and Unbelief, whispering together in his ear, \"Let us\neat and drink, for to-morrow we die!\"  Sometimes unbelief is at the\nwidest remove from sensuality; it may go with pure devotion to truth and\nthirst for goodness.  There are pathetic and noble voices of seekers\nafter God, which when they do not gladden yet strengthen and purify, and\nwhich catch at moments an exquisite tone of peace and joy.  Such are\nClough and Matthew Arnold.  We have one moralist of the Spencerian\nschool, George Eliot, who unites a strong ethical sense with a wonderful\nreading of human nature.  Her essential message, told again and again in\nevery book, is, \"Life may be ruined by self-indulgence--beware!\"  If we\nask, \"But may life be saved by fidelity?\" her answer is uncertain.  And\nin her own life we read, with humbled eyes, the defect which marred the\nnote of triumph and deepened the note of warning.\n\nIf, again, as to the Personal Ideal, we revert to the basal elements of\ncharacter,--to the homely, every-day aspect,--to the life not only of the\ncultivated few but of the mass of humanity,--the new perception has been\nreached, that Work is the basis of all personal and social virtue.  Toil,\nsaid the old Scripture, is God's punishment for man's sin.  Toil, says\nthe religious enthusiast, is a necessary incident of an existence whose\nhigher exercise lies in spiritual emotion reaching toward a future\nParadise.  But toil, to modern eyes, is the root which binds man to his\nnative earth, and transmits all the sap which creates flowers and fruit.\nIntelligent, arduous, thrifty toil is the mother of greatness.  \"Do the\nnext thing,--do the nearest duty,--labor rather than question,\"--is the\nmost articulate note in Carlyle's stormy message.  The old charity was to\ngive bread to the hungry; the new charity is to help the hungry to work\nfor their bread.  A generation ago it seemed to American reformers that\nthe nation's problem would be solved if once the slaves were freed.  They\nwere set free, and then it was seen that the whole question of their\nfuture destiny was still to be met.  Practical necessity, religious zeal,\npolitical schemes, all played their part; but the best answer came\nthrough the apostle Armstrong, \"Character, wrought out through education\nand labor.\"  The inherited devotion of Christian missionaries caught the\nlight of personal experience and observation, and a man in whom heroic\ntemper blent with shrewdest wisdom laid the foundation of an education\ntranscending in its aims and results the whole traditional system of\nschool and university.  It is an object-lesson of supreme significance.\nThat way lies the future education of our children,--character its aim,\nnature its chief book, exercise of all the bodily and spiritual powers\nits method.\n\nHere, then, are the results of our century as they bear on man's higher\nlife.  A religion through special revelation has been displaced by a\nreligion which faces all the facts of existence and bases itself on them.\nMan has found new clews to read the story of his past, and new ways to\nmould his present and future.  The old ethical ideals have been\nreaffirmed, broadened, purified.  The task of building personal life and\nof ordering society has been set before man in fresh clearness, under\nheavy penalties for failure and heart-filling rewards for success.  It is\nseen that the humble path of moral obedience issues in celestial heights\nof spiritual vision.  Out of the noblest use of the Here and Now springs\nthe assurance of a Hereafter and the sense of a present eternity.  The\nway to the Highest is open, inviting, commanding.  The simplest may\nenter, and the strongest must give his full strength to the quest.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE IDEAL OF TO-DAY\n\nThe way of the highest life is clear and certain.  Its first and last\nprecept is fidelity to the best we know.  Its constant process is that\nfidelity wins moral growth and spiritual vision.\n\nAll attempts to demonstrate the nature and attributes of God, all\neffort to prove by argument that the universe is administered by\nrighteousness and benevolence, are aside from the main road.  The real\ntask for man is to order his own life, as an individual and in society.\nTo do that, he needs to understand his own life as a practical matter;\nhe needs to study the procedure of the world in which he stands; he\nneeds to rally every force of knowledge, resolution, sympathy,\nreverence, aspiration, upon this high business of personal and social\nliving.  As he achieves such life, there develop in him the faculties\nwhich read sublime meanings in the universe of which he is a part.  As\nhe becomes divine, he finds divinity everywhere.\n\nThe heart of religion is joy, peace, energy, support under suffering,\ninward harmony, true relation with fellow creatures, grateful sense of\nthe past, full fruition of the present, glad out-reach to a beckoning\nfuture.  The way to that life is wholly independent of doubtful\nargumentation.  It lies simply in a whole-hearted conformity to what\nare known beyond all question as the worthy aims, the just\nrequirements, the righteous laws.\n\nLet us consider somewhat at large the unfolding of this philosophy of\nlife.  Let us seek to sympathetically interpret the deepest, most\nsignificant working of the human spirit in our time.\n\nIs it not the distinctive note of the thoughtful and honest mind of\nto-day, as compared with a like mind some centuries ago, that it\ncontemplates more directly the actual procedure of the universe, is\nless concerned with supernatural personages and transactions, and more\nattentive to what has happened and is happening in this mundane sphere?\nThe piety of our ancestors contemplated the justice and mercy of God as\nmanifested in the counsels of eternity,--his righteous condemnation of\nthe wicked, and the love-inspired sacrifice of Christ.  The philosophy\nof our ancestors was largely an attempt to map out a world-scheme from\nman's inner consciousness.  The modern thinker, whether he calls\nhimself Christian or not, is inclined to make his essay toward the\nSupreme Power by way of the observed workings of the universe.  And\ncertain general impressions which he thus receives we may distinguish.\n\nThat aspect of things which now engages us with the fascination of a\nnew and vast discovery is what we term \"Evolution.\"  Its spectacle, on\nthe one hand, prompts a sure and soaring hope.  In the sum of things we\nsee a movement upward and still upward,--from unorganized to organized\nmatter, from unconscious to sentient existence, from beast to man, from\nsavage to saint,--and who can say to what height in the coming ages?\nBut on the other hand we see that thus far at least the progress of the\nfavored is at deadly cost to the losers.  And we see that parallel with\nthe ascending white line of humanity runs an ascending black line,--the\nbad man of civilization is in some ways worse than the bad man of\nsavagery.  And this complexity of good and evil is recognized at a time\nwhen a higher sensibility has made the old familiar pain and sin of\nhumanity seem more than ever intolerable.\n\nYet the spectacle of creation and of the world, as we see and know it,\nmakes upon us an impression far beyond that of mere perplexity or\ndismay.  It produces a sentiment which we may best call _awe_.  All the\ngreat aspects of nature wake in us this reverential emotion.  A\nfamiliar instance is the effect upon us of the starry heavens.  The\nPsalmist thrilled at that sight,--how much more deeply are we moved,\nknowing what we know of the vastness and the order!  Some like effect\non us has the unfolding revelation of the whole process of nature.  \"I\nthink the thoughts of God after him,\" said Kepler.  Let any man study\nin some clear exposition the development of the human race from the\nanimal; and the wonder of the process, the unity of design, the\nunforeseen goals reached one by one, the irresistible impression that\nthe harmony which man's little faculties can discern is but a fraction\nof some sublimer harmony,--these emotions have in them a surpassing\npower to humble, purify, and exalt the spirit.\n\nThe modern mind addresses itself to the highest reality through the\nactualities of existence, and of those actualities one most significant\nphase is the procedure and laws of nature.  But there is another and\nmore impressive aspect: it is the inner life of humanity; it is man's\nown conscious existence, with its struggles, victories, defeats, its\nagonies and raptures, its mirth, its play, its sweetness and\nbitterness.  This to us is the realm of real existence.  In this we are\nat home.  The march of the planets, the evolution of a world, the whole\nprocess of nature, is like the view from a window; and, gazing upon it,\nsits feeling, thinking, aspiring man.  His consciousness is environed\nand conditioned by the surrounding world, but is utterly unexplained by\nit, wholly untranslatable in its terms.  Definite and precise is the\nlanguage of mathematics, of chemistry, of physical procedure.  Mystery\nof mysteries is the human spirit,--mystery of mysteries and holy of\nholies.  A new sense of the sacredness of human life has been born in\nthis later age.  It is our most precious acquisition.  Better could we\nhave waited for modern science than for modern humanity.  Better could\nwe spare the telegraph and the steam-engine and anaesthesia than that\nquickened sense of the value of man as man which inspires the deepest\npolitical and social movements of to-day.  In all sober minds, in all\nlofty effort,--whatever there may be of despair of God or hopelessness\nof a personal future,--we see a profound recognition of the solemnity\nand sacredness of human existence.  Through the sad pages of George\nEliot, through Emerson's exultant psalm, through the reformer's battle,\nthe socialist's scheme, runs this golden link,--the value of simple\nhumanity.\n\nThis, then, we may say is the characteristic attitude of the man of\nto-day,--before the processes of nature, awe and reverence; before the\nlife of humanity, sympathy and tenderness.\n\nBut now rises a heart-moving question.  The dearest article of\nreligious faith has been a Divine Power, governing the universe and\nholding to man an intimate relation involving issues of supreme\nsignificance to humanity.  At this point modern thought falters.  The\nlong-familiar expression of that belief is the assertion of a personal,\nprovidential, all-just, and all-loving God.  What reason have men\nassigned to themselves for belief in such a God, while confronted all\nthe time by the fearful spectacle of a world in which sin and misery\nperpetually mingle with goodness and happiness?  What has been the\nresource of the Christian intellect against that mystery of evil which\nbaffled the questioner in the book of Job, and drove Lucretius to\nvirtual atheism, and left Marcus Aurelius in doubt whether there be\ngods or not?  The resource of the Christian thinker has been his belief\nthat Jesus Christ was God incarnate.  Here was a soul which was sinless\nand holy, which loved sinners so as to die for them; and this was God\nhimself.  That belief has been the foundation of Christian theology.\nIt left the mysteries of earth's sorrow and sin unexplained; but it\noffered the assurance, under a most living figure, that the author and\nfinal disposer of the whole was one whose nature was love itself.\n\nWhen it ceases to be believed that Jesus was God, the corner-stone of\nthis whole structure of belief, as an intellectual conception, is gone.\nThe void is concealed for a while by intermediate theories,--that Jesus\nwas a kind of inferior deity, that he was at least a supernatural\nmessenger.  Frankly say that he was a man only, and we have really\ngiven up that intellectual ground of confidence in a God on which for\nmany centuries men have stood.  And, in that involuntary and most\nregretful surrender, and in the first impression following it, that the\nonly discernible order is a mechanical order, with no room for worship,\nno hope of immortality, lies the tragedy of the thinking world to-day.\nFor a multitude of minds, God is eclipsed, and the earth lies in\nshadow.  In shadow, but not in despair.  For still there is\n\n          \"The prophetic soul\n  Of the wide world, dreaming of things to come.\"\n\n\nSlowly emerges a new conception.  In the lowest depth of his spirit man\nhas found that, in Robertson's words, \"it is better to be true than to\nbe false, better to be pure than to be sensual, better to be brave than\nto be a coward.\"  By that sure and simple creed man lives through his\ndarkest day.  When the tree seems dead, that root lives.  And presently\nthere grows from it a nobler tree.\n\nThe turning-point from the old thought to the new is this: We see that\nthe imperative task set to every man is not to understand the universe\nplan, but to live his own life successfully.  It will quite suffice for\nmost of us if we can each one do justice to the possibilities of his\nown existence.  Those possibilities are something more than breathing\nand eating, sleeping and waking, toil and rest.  Among his\npossibilities each man hopes are included contentment, joy, peace.  At\nleast there must be possible for him some right conformity to the\nconditions in which he is placed, some noble and spiritual\nsatisfaction, some imparting of good to his fellow creatures.  There is\nfor him some best way of life, which it is his business to find and to\nfollow.\n\nAnd as he finds and follows it,--as he fills out the best possibilities\nof his own being,--so he must come into the truest relation possible\nfor him with this whole mysterious frame of things we call the\nuniverse.  As he is himself at his best, so he will get the best, the\nwidest, the truest impression of the whole in which he is a part.\n\nThis, then, is the rational and hopeful way of addressing the supreme\nproblem,--the problem, for the individual and for mankind, of a\nhappiness and a success which shall be rooted in the true nature of\nthings and the real order of the universe.  We are not to start with\nany supposed comprehension of the general plan, whether as revealed by\nmiracle or thought out by wise men.  We are simply to live our own\nlives according to the best knowledge we have, the highest examples we\nknow, the most satisfying results of our own experience.  And, with\nwhatever discipline and enrichment this process of right living may\nbring us, we are to hold our whole natures open, attentive, percipient\nto the world about us, and accept whatever shall disclose itself.\n\nThe two processes--right living and clear vision--blend constantly and\nintimately.  We may distinguish them in our thoughts, but there is\nconstant interplay between life and sight.\n\nThe business of living,--how infinitely complex it is, how endlessly\nlaborious, yet how simple and how sure!  Its central principle, we may\nsay, is the right fitting of one's self to his surroundings.  Modern\nscience has learned that for every creature the condition of success is\nadaptation to its environment.  We may use that way of speaking to\nexpress the prime necessity of man.  His environment is a vast\ncomplexity of material, social, and spiritual realities.\n\nThere is for him a true way of adapting himself to these surrounding\nfacts.  He has somehow found it out in the long existence of the race;\nhe has seen it more and more clearly.  This true way is expressed by\nwhat we call right principles of conduct.  It is such traits as we name\ncourage, truth, justice, purity, love, aspiration, reverence.  It\nincludes the study of natural laws and conformity to them.  It includes\nthe search for knowledge, both for its use and for its own joy.  It\nincludes the delighted gaze upon beauty of every kind.\n\nWhoever follows this ideal--and just as far as he follows it\nintelligently and earnestly--finds certain results.  Whenever he acts,\nhe finds set before him a right way to follow rather than a wrong.  So\nfrom every situation he may draw strength.  So he may continually find\npeace,--often peace won through struggle, but the deeper for the\nstruggle.  The love of beauty finds beauty everywhere.  The love of\nliving creatures finds objects everywhere, and love given brings love\nin response.  This higher life gives joy,--not constant, alternating\nwith sorrow; but the joy is incomparably sweeter and purer and higher\nthan any other course of life yields, and the sorrow has such nobility\nthat we dare not wish it absent from the mingled cup we drain.  And\nalways through joy or sorrow may come moral growth--development of\ncharacter.\n\nThere is no exemption to be won from suffering, none from fear.  Pain,\nweakness, bereavement, death,--these things must come, and we must\nsometimes tremble before them,--no divine hand will pluck them away.\nBut in our fear we learn a deeper strength.\n\nThese are the gifts with which Life answers our faithful service.  The\nbrave, the gentle, the peace-makers, the pure in heart, the forgiving,\nthe patient, the heroic, are blessed,--incomparably enriched.\n\nThis is what we know of the relation of the One Power to\nourselves,--that it asks the very highest and best we can give, and\nreturns our service with the best and highest we can receive.  This is\nwhat that power we name God is to us.\n\nThis is the same reality which has been apprehended under the figure of\na personal God, a Heavenly Father, or a Christ.  To many, those figures\nstill express it.  But those to whom the Deity is not thus personified\nmay no less fully and vividly apprehend the divine Reality.\n\nAnd further, this whole conception stands no less in stead the persons\nand the hours when the conscious sense of Deity fails altogether.  This\nconception makes the essence of religion to be conformity to the homely\nfacts about us, in the relations of fidelity, sympathy, and service.\nWhen one has no conscious thought of God, or cannot reach such thought\nif he tries, he can always exercise love, sympathy, admiration,\nself-control,--and that is enough.\n\nThe limitations of our knowledge imply everywhere a background of\nmystery.  But that mystery is at once a stimulus to our inquiry and a\nprize set before our longing.  In some respects it is only a challenge\nto search, and the horizons of knowledge forever widen before the\nexplorer.  At other points the veil never lifts, but all longing,\naspiration, unsatisfied hunger, inarticulate yearning, \"groanings which\ncannot be uttered,\" reach out to and lay hold on this realm of mystery.\nIt is not an adamantine wall that encircles us, it is the tender\nmystery of the sunset or the starry heavens.\n\nSo of the mystery of death.  The veil is not lifted, but it stirs\nbefore the breath of our prayers and hopes.  The deepest fear in man is\nthe fear of death, and that fear is conquered in him by something\ngreater than itself.  Even on the natural plane man is seldom afraid of\ndeath when it comes; it is rather the distant image that appalls him.\nBefore the reality some instinct seems to bid him not to fear.  Every\nnoble sentiment lifts men above the dread of death.  For their country\non the battlefield, for other men in sudden accidents and perils, men\ngive their lives instinctively or deliberately.\n\nIt is personal love to which death seems to menace irretrievable and\nfinal disaster.  But it is personal love to which comes the divinest\npresage.  Some voice says to our yearning heart, \"Fear nothing, doubt\nnothing, only _live_!\"\n\nFrom our birth to our death we are encompassed by mystery, but it is a\nmystery which may, if we will have it so, grow warm, luminous, divine.\n\n\nSo, by simple fidelity, man may find within himself harmony, victory,\nand peace.  When now, from this standpoint, he looks out on the\nuniverse,--and from no other standpoint can he hope for any clear\nvision,--what does he most clearly discern?  These three\naspects,--Order, Beauty, Life.\n\nAs he opens himself to these three aspects and actively conforms\nhimself to them,--as he studies, obeys, and reveres the Order, as he\nperceives and rejoices in the Beauty, as in sympathy and service he\nmerges his personal life in the multiform Life,--so he grows in the\nimpression of a divine harmony and unity pervading all things.  So he\nbecomes aware of a Cosmos,--a universal order of beauty and of love.\nHe becomes aware of it only as he becomes voluntarily and consciously a\npart of it.  Only through the fidelity of his moral life does he feel\nbeneath his feet a sure foundation.  Only as his soul glows a spark of\nlove does it recognize the celestial ether in which it is an atom.\n\n\nAt every moment and on every side we are in touch with the realities of\nbeing.\n\nWe live and move in a world of orderly procedure, to which we may adapt\nourselves with growing intelligence and purpose.\n\nBoth the animate and inanimate creation is clothed in forms which\nminister to the sense of beauty; and the more that sense is cultivated\nin us, the more universally do we recognize beauty, and the more\nprofound is its appeal to our consciousness.\n\nIn our social existence we come in touch with other souls, each with\nits actual or potential wealth of being, and each inviting our\nsympathetic response.\n\nThese--order, beauty, conscious existence--are the impact on us of the\nuniverse.  The right apprehension of these and the active response to\nthem constitute the true exercise of our own nature; and it is through\nthat exercise that we know Life,--the one Life,--and know it to be\ndivine.\n\nThese three aspects,--order, beauty, our fellow-lives,--let us dwell\nfor a moment on each in turn.\n\nAn amazing stimulus to man's powers has come in the discovery that he\nmay penetrate and follow to an indefinite extent the actual procedure\nof the Universe.  We are only on the threshold of our discoveries.  We\nare just beginning to see where they have their highest application.\nWe have been harnessing the steeds of power to the service of our\nphysical wants.  We are just beginning to understand that they are to\nbe made the ministers of building up a complete manhood.  The\ntheologian has sought to demonstrate that all natural processes work in\nthe service of a divine righteousness.  In place of any such\ndemonstration, we are finding the true exercise of knowledge in\napplying for ourselves the processes of nature to the fulfillment of\nour noblest purposes.\n\nWe are just now at the transition point between the old and the new\nconception of divine Power.  The old conception was: \"The Almighty is a\nmerciful father.  If his children ask anything, he will give it: the\nweapon of desire is prayer.\"  The new perception is: \"The Almighty\nmoves in lines which we can partly discern.  By putting ourselves in\nline with that Power, we make it helpful: the weapon of desire is\nintelligent effort.  Through our wills works the divine Will.\"\n\n  \"With the great girdle of God, go and encompass the earth!\"\n\n\nIt is moral fidelity which apprehends the true application and\nsignificance for man of that regular procedure of nature which environs\nand conditions him.  And this Natural Order, in turn, requires the\nmoral sense to humbly and obediently go to school to it.  \"You want to\nbe good?\" says Nature.  \"You dare to believe that even I in my\nmightiness am set to help you to be good?  Then study my processes, and\nconform to them!\"  A new set of commandments is being written in the\nsight of men,--commandments learned but slowly and often transgressed,\neven by those whose wills are pure and whose hearts are loving.  _Thou\nshalt sufficiently rest_!  How perpetually in these days is that\ncommandment broken, and with what woeful penalty!  The practical basis\nof all religion is the religion of the body.  The body politic, too,\nthe social organism, has its code of natural laws, intelligible,\nimperative.  And every new discovery yields guidance and utters\ncommand.  \"Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened!\"\n\n\nOnly through moral fidelity is the higher meaning of Beauty won.  It is\nthe pure in heart who see God.  The beauty of the human form is, on the\none side, uplifting to the soul, sacramental, as if it were the shrine\nof a divinity.  On the other side, it blends with the instincts which\nwhen unchecked in their play degrade humanity.  Plato pictures the two\nmingled elements as two steeds yoked together, the one black, unruly,\ndown-plunging, the other white, celestial, up-mounting, while Reason,\nthe charioteer, strives to rule  them.  The nobler interpretation is\nslowly acquired by mankind.  There are great, sometimes catastrophic,\nlapses; there are periods when art and literature become the servants\nof the earthly instead of the heavenly Venus.  We still look far\nforward to\n\n  \"The world's great bridals, chaste and calm.\"\n\nYet, little by little, the ennobling aspect of human beauty becomes a\nfamiliar perception, is wrought into a habit, is transmitted as an\ninheritance.  Whoever achieves in himself the victory of personal\npurity is helping to open the eyes of mankind.\n\nThe material world becomes instinct with majesty and with sweetness to\nthe eyes that can see.  It is a revelation of which Wordsworth and\nEmerson are the prophets in literature, but which is written no less in\nmany a heart quite untaught of books.  The face of Mother Earth is the\nbook in which many a man and woman and child read lessons of delight,\nspelled in letters of rock and fern, of brook and cowslip, of maple\nleaf and goldenrod.  Such lessons mean little save to the pure and\nhumble.\n\nThe distinctive voice of nature's gospel is a voice of joy.  Mixing\nfreely with humanity, we encounter the almost perpetual presence of\ntrouble.  But turning to forest and mountain and sea and sky, we are\nconfronted with gladness ineffable.  Still \"the morning stars sing\ntogether and the sons of God shout for joy.\"  Can our religion find no\nother emblem than the cross,--the instrument of torture?  Mankind has\npondered long the lesson of sorrow: dare it enter the whole inheritance\nof sonship, and taste the fullness of joy?  Reality which thought and\nword cannot convey is bodied forth to us in music and in natural\nbeauty.  Music is the deepest voice of humanity, and beauty is the\nanswering smile of God.  When the poet-philosopher has crowded into\nverse all that he can express of life's meaning,--of the subservience\nof evil to good, the \"deep love lying under these pictures of\ntime,\"--he invokes at the last the very look of earth and sea and sky\nas the best answer:--\n\n  \"Uprose the merry Sphinx,\n    And crouched no more in stone;\n  She melted, into purple cloud,\n    She silvered in the moon;\n  She spired into a yellow flame;\n    She flowered in blossoms red;\n  She flowed into a foaming wave;\n    She stood Monadnoc's head.\n\n  \"Thorough a thousand voices\n    Spoke the universal dame,\n  'Who telleth one of my meanings\n    Is master of all I am.'\"\n\n\nYet is the chief exercise of our life through relation with our\nfellow-lives.  If the sublime joy of nature's companionship could be\nmade constant, at the price of isolation from our kind, the price were\na thousand-fold too great.  And it is through true and sympathetic\nrelation with other lives that we chiefly come into conscious harmony\nwith the universe.  It is in a right interplay with mankind that we get\nclosest to the heart of things.\n\n\"God is love.\"  So I am told: how shall I interpret it in my\nexperience?  Is it a proposition to be believed about some being\nthroned above my sight?  If I exercise my mind in that direction, if I\nweigh and balance and sift the intellectual evidence, I may toil to a\ndoubtful conclusion.  But let me, issuing forth from my ponderings, put\nmyself into kindly relations with my fellow beings,--let me so much as\npat affectionately the head of the honest dog who meets me on the\nstreet,--and a thrill like the warmth of spring touches my chilled\nintellect.  Let me, for a day only, make each human contact, though but\nof a passing moment, a true recognition of some other soul, and I feel\nmyself somehow in right relation with the world.  \"He that loveth\nknoweth God, and is born of God.\"\n\nAt the heart of all love is an instinct of reciprocity.  It may or may\nnot get a return from its immediate object, but somehow it opens the\nfountains of the universe.  The heart that loves finds itself, it\nscarce knows how, beloved.\n\n\nSuch, then, is the process, and such the revelation.  The first step,\nthe constant requirement, the unsparing hourly need, is obedience to\nthe known right.  The sequence is an ever-widening sense of a sweet and\ncelestial encompassment.\n\nThe man rightly practiced in all noble exercises of life--in moral\nfidelity, in reverence and sympathy, in observation and conformity to\nthe actual conditions of the world about him--will find pouring in upon\nhim a beauty, a love, a divinity, which fill the soul with a heavenly\nvision.  And that soul, in whatever of extremity may come to it, has\nunder its feet the eternal rock.\n\n\nThrough the serious literature of to-day runs a bitter wail,--the cry\nthat life is sad and dark and cruel.  Sad and dark and cruel it is,\nuntil one meets it sword in hand.  The great Mother will have her\nchildren to be heroes.  She tests them, frightens them, masks herself\nsometimes in terror.  Face the terror, drive straight at the danger,\nand the mask dissolves to show the celestial smile, the \"all-repaying\neyes.\"\n\n\nThe road is an arduous one.  The aged philosopher, you remember, was\nasked by a youthful monarch, \"Tell me if you please in a few words what\nis the final fruit and outcome of philosophy?\"  The philosopher\nanswered him, \"Cultivate yourself diligently in all virtue and wisdom\nfor thirty years, and then you may be able to partly understand the\nanswer to your question.\"\n\nIt is an arduous road, but it leads to reality.  All short and easy\nanswers to the supreme question dissatisfy after the first flush.  The\nconfidence of the dogmatic answer, we soon discover, has no sufficient\nauthority to back it.  The glib theoretical answer leads us, after all,\nto a Balance of Probabilities.  That is the best God that theoretic\nphilosophy can give us.  It may be better than nothing.  But who can\nlove a Balance of Probabilities?  Who can feel the hand of such a deity\nas that when his hand gropes for support in face of temptation,\ndisaster, heartbreak?\n\n\nWe are told, \"It may suffice for the strong and saintly to bid them\n'Prove for yourself that the universe is good;' but what kind of gospel\nis this for the weak, for the child, for the average man and woman?\"\nThe answer is: The vast majority of mankind always have lived and\nalways will live largely by reliance on some person or some body of\npersons or some social atmosphere of opinion.  That authority of the\nchurch which has availed so much is just the confidence of a crowd in\nthe leadership of certain men to whom they are accustomed to look up.\nIn the order of nature, always the leaders will lead.  What the strong\nand saintly receive with vivid impression and profound assurance, the\nmass who feel their influence will accept a good deal on their\nauthority.  The child will catch the faith of its father and mother.\nBut, further, in its very nature, that method of approach to the\nhighest reality which requires only goodness and open-heartedness and\nlove is available to the little child and to the simplest mind.  When\nJesus said, \"Blessed are the meek, the merciful, the peace-makers, the\npure in heart, they that do hunger and thirst after righteousness,\"\nevery one understood him.\n\n\nBut it may be asked, Does this attitude bring man face to face with a\npersonal God?  Personal he will be to some: to many the only solid and\nadequate expression of a real being is a personal being.  Nay, to many\nonly a human personality means anything.  A great preacher and poet of\nour day once said that he never thought of God except under the figure\nof Christ,--a human figure in some human occupation and attitude.  Let\nDivinity body itself as Christ to minds so constituted.  Let others\ninvoke \"the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.\"  But impose no\nconstraint and lay no ban on those to whom, as Carlyle says, \"the\nHighest cannot be spoken of in words.  Personal!  Impersonal!  One!\nThree!  What meaning can any mortal, after all, attach to them in\nreference to such an object?\"  It is not these forms of thought that\nare essential.  What is essential is a way of living access to the\nHighest.\n\n\nThe adequate conception--the keynote--must be one that is sufficient\nalike for the every-day mood, for the exalted hours, and for the\nemergencies.  That keynote is given in this truth: that there is no\nmoment so dull or so hard but one can ask himself, What is the best the\nsituation allows? and conform to that; can open his eyes to some beauty\nclose at hand; can enter sympathetically into some neighboring life.\n\n\nWe prescribe to ourselves certain attitudes, and strive toward certain\nideals.  But the supreme hours are those in which there flow in upon\nour consciousness the inshinings and the upholdings of some unfathomed\nPower.  We are led, we are carried.  We feel, we know not whence nor\nhow, a peace that passeth understanding and a love that casteth out\nfear.\n\nThis is the substance of that religious experience in which throughout\nthe ages the heart of man has found its deepest support and\nencouragement.  The experience has clothed itself to the imagination in\nthe garb of this or that creed or climate.  It is liable to debasements\nand counterfeits, but no more liable than all other noble emotions and\nexperiences.  Sometimes there is the culmination of a moral struggle,\nand the whole course of life receives a new direction.  Sometimes there\nis an illumination and joy and peace.  It is an exaltation of the soul\nin which gladness blends with moral energy.  No chapter of human life\nis written in deeper letters than those which tell of victory over\ntemptation, strength out of weakness, radiance beside the grave,\nthrough this divine uplift.\n\n\nThere is another experience, more common, less dependent on individual\nconstitution, which bears an inward message of soberer tone but of like\nimport.  It is the peace which attends the consciousness of\nright-doing.  Wordsworth personifies it as the approval of Duty, \"stern\ndaughter of the voice of God:\"--\n\n  \"Stern Lawgiver!  Yet thou dost wear\n    The Godhead's most benignant grace;\n  Nor know we anything more fair\n    Than is the smile upon thy face.\"\n\n\nThe faithful child of duty, whatever his creed, whatever his\ntemperament, is naturally the possessor of a steady, calm assurance.\nSomehow, he feels, it is well.\n\n\nReasonings about immortality lead to little result.  Convinced or\nunconvinced, we profit little by a mere opinion.  We speculate, doubt,\nreject, or hope; and in either case the moral conduct of life is,\nperhaps, not much affected.  But there come hours when to love and\naspiration the heavenly vision opens, and the sense of its own eternity\nthrills the soul.\n\nThe crying need of the heart is always a present need.  No promise of a\nfar-away satisfaction is sufficient for it.  And answering to just that\nneed is the experience, sometimes given, that the human love once ours\nis ours still in its fullness,--some richer fullness even than that of\ndays gone by.  There are hours in which the heart's voice is,\n\n  \"Though mixed with God and Nature thou,\n    I seem to love thee more and more.\"\n\n\nThe highest state of consciousness to which we attain is expressed by\nthe old phrase that man feels himself a child of God.  His energy feels\nback of it an infinite energy.  His desires rest peacefully in some\nall-sufficing good.  All that is highest and purest in him mingles with\nits divine source.  He sees new and higher interpretations of his own\nlife and other lives.  All the human love he has ever experienced he\nholds as an abiding possession.  There comes to him not so much the\npremonition of a future state as the consciousness of some state in\nwhich past, present, and future blend.  He is free from illusions, and\nserene.  It does not disturb him even to know that the vision will\npass, and he will return to earth's level.  He sees the truth, he feels\nthe divine reality; and the certainty and the gladness are such that\nnot even the prevision of his own relapse into dimmer perception can\ndepress him.  The hour speaks with command to the hours that are to\nfollow; it bids them to fidelity, to love, to highest courage.\n\nWhen turning from contemplation we throw ourselves into the work and\nthe battle, a pulse of divine energy blends with our noblest effort,\ntouches our joy with an ineffable sweetness, and hushes our sorrow like\na child folded in its mother's arms.\n\nThe key of the world is given into our hands when we throw ourselves\nunreservedly into the service of the highest truth we know, \"with\nfidelity to the right as God gives us to see the right.\"  So it is that\nwe may find ourselves\n\n  \"Wedded to this goodly universe\n  In love and holy passion.\"\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nA TRAVELER'S NOTE-BOOK\n\nA tourist who roams for a brief while through some great country like\nEngland or Russia may jot down a few of the impressions which come home\nto him, making no pretense at completeness or symmetry of description.\nSo, one who has journeyed like a hasty traveler over some passages in\nthat vast tract of years which we describe as the classic and Christian\ncivilizations, notes down in the following pages a few of the salient\nfeatures that have impressed him.  He has already prefaced this with a\nsort of outline map, drawn largely from familiar authorities, under the\ntitle \"Our Spiritual Ancestry;\" and has further ventured to interpret\nsome phases of our own time, as \"The Ideal of To-Day.\"  Now he goes on to\ngroup a few observations on some special phases of the historical survey,\ndisclaiming any attempt at exact proportion and perspective, but\nlingering where the prospect has pleased his fancy, or at points which\nseemed to yield some necessary clew or fruitful suggestion.\n\n\nWhen, in the poems bearing the name of Homer, the curtain rises on the\ndrama of man as it was acted in Greece, after the immeasurable\nprehistoric space, we are amazed at the sudden brilliance.  The men and\ndeeds brought before us are various in character and worth,--savage,\nheroic, repulsive, beautiful, by turns.  But the ever-present charm is\nman seeing the world about him.  It is the vividness with which every\nobject is seen in its distinctive form and spirit, and conveyed by the\nfit word and phrase.  So seen and spoken, the commonest object becomes a\nthing of delight.  The high-roofed house, the brazen threshold, the\npolished chest, the silver-studded sword, the purple robes,--the tawny\noxen, the hollow ships, the tapering oars,--the wine-dark sea, the\nrosy-fingered dawn, the gold-throned morning,--Hector of the nodding\nplume, the white-armed Nausicaa,--so in long procession moves the\nspectacle.  A like distinctness invests all the actions and emotions of\nthe story with charm.  To us, as to the poet, the world becomes enchanted\nsimply in being seen.\n\nAnd presently we discover a strange transfiguration that is being\nwrought.  Experiences which were painful or grievous to the actors and\nsufferers become in the representation the source of keen pleasure to the\nhearers or readers.  The Iliad is mainly a story of men destroying one\nanother.  The Odyssey depicts a long strife with hardship and danger.\nThe men who heard those songs were themselves familiar with the fight,\nwith the wounds and terrors mixed with its energies and elations; they\nhad tasted the perils of shipwreck and of pirates.  But as they listened,\nthe rehearsal of trials the counterpart of their own filled them with\nexhilaration.  We who read in modern days, if less experienced in\nbloodshed and bodily peril, yet in some fashion have had our share of\nbattle and storm; and we, too, like the first listeners, drink in the\ntale with delight.  The poet, in other words, has the secret not only of\nseeing but of idealizing the actual world.  We catch from him some subtle\nart by which, standing a little aloof from the pressure and turmoil\naround us, often felt as painful or degrading, we see it through an\natmosphere in which it becomes a splendid and heart-stirring scene.  At a\nlater stage we may perhaps in a degree analyze the change of view; we may\npartly understand how through the struggle with evil man is strengthened\nand ennobled; how in such strife courage and sympathy and tenderness are\nengendered.  But long before we can thus philosophize, and to a degree\nwhich our philosophy can hardly explain, we are affected by this beauty\nand elevation imparted to the spectacle of human life by the true poets.\n\nWe moderns read Homer with delight in the roll of the music, the\nvividness of the pictures, the humanity so near us in its essence and so\nunlike in its dress.  When we inquire what are the moral ideals, we are\noften uncertain how far the impressions made on us may differ from those\nof the original audience, or the intention of the singer.  But often his\nwork is like the painting of great Nature herself.  We pass upon it as we\npass upon the facts of life.\n\nThe supernal features in the story are not here discussed.  The deities,\njudged by our standards, have little of divinity.  Beyond the grave lies\na dim and dreamy realm.  All this, with its great significance, we here\nomit, to linger a little on the essential and permanent humanity.\n\nAchilles, the embodiment of power and passion, just touched with human\nruth; Hector, the selfless, brave and gentle champion; Odysseus, victor\nin the long pilgrimage by fortitude and by wisdom,--these are the three\nideal types of the early world, portrayed by its noblest genius.\n\nThe Iliad culminates in the triumph of pity.  The heart of Zeus is\nmelted, the harder heart of Achilles is melted, before the sorrows of\nbereaved old age.  An exquisite gentleness breathes through the closing\nscenes.  All the wrath and terror and savagery of the story have led up\nto this height of pure compassion.  A new light falls on all that has\ngone before.  Achilles, the fierce hero of the earlier story, is outshone\nby his victim, Hector of the great and gentle heart.  The crowning word\nof praise, after father, mother, wife have uttered their lament, is\nspoken by the frail woman whose sin had brought ruin on Hector and his\npeople: \"If any other haply upbraided me in the palace halls, then\nwouldst thou soothe such with words, and refrain them by the gentleness\nof thy spirit and by thy gentle words.  Therefore bewail I thee with pain\nat heart, and my hapless self with thee, for no more is any left in wide\nTroy-land to be my friend and kind to me, but all men shudder at me.\"\n\nWe see the sin of man and woman wrecking nations and leaving the sinner\nin dreary isolation.  We see unrelenting wrath, even when provoked by\nwrong, spreading woe upon the innocent, and at last smiting the wrathful\nman through his dearest affections.  We see the heroism which meets death\nin defense of the beloved, yet has only tender pity for her who has\nwrought the ruin.\n\nThe Iliad is mostly war,--men acting hell on earth, as Goethe said.  But\nin the Odyssey the goal of the hero is his home.  The magnet is not\nHelen's beauty, but Penelope's faithfulness.  Odysseus, mighty warrior,\ncrafty leader,--who with his sword has smitten the Trojans, by his wiles\ndestroyed their city,--Odysseus is driven for ten years through hostile\nseas and men and gods by the compelling passion of home-sickness!\n\nIn the Odyssey, it is the battle with the sea which does most to toughen\nand supple and make indomitable.  The soldier and sailor are the pioneers\nof the race.  These and the tiller of the earth are the strong roots out\nof which are to grow the flower and fruit.\n\nIn the Iliad, woman appears in Helen as the tempting prize and the gage\nof battle, and in Andromeda as the tender wife foredoomed to bereavement\nand captivity.  In the Odyssey, woman plays a higher part--as Penelope,\nfaithful and prudent and patient wife, fit spouse for Odysseus; as\nEurydice, the devoted old nurse; and as Nausicaa, loveliest of pristine\nmaidens.\n\n\"The story of her worth shall never die; but for all humankind immortal\nones shall make a gladsome song in praise of steadfast Penelope.\"  It is\na noble story: the fidelity of a wife, the undaunted courage of a man; a\nlong battle with adversity, crowned with the joy of love's reunion; the\nmeeting with servant, nurse, dog, son, wife, father.\n\nOdysseus fights his battle as every hero must,--against hostile nature\nand man,--by courage and patience and craft, and a confidence that the\nheavenly power will somehow bring him through.\n\nSo at the heart of the Iliad and the Odyssey is an austere and sweet\nmessage.  The singers who embodied it in tales which stir every pulse\nwith delight were among the supreme teachers of mankind.  The inner\nmeaning of humanity's story which their songs display is still the lesson\nset us,--out of adversity man may win fortitude; through battle,\nshipwreck, and overthrow he scales the heights of manhood; and the\nfaithful pilgrimage ends in a home which is dearer for all troubles past.\n\nThe Homeric poems show man in his first full awaking to beauty and to\nmusic.  They show more.  The fashioning of the supernal world in man's\nmind varies with people and with time.  Here it is Zeus and Hades, again\nit will be Jehovah and Satan, and then Heaven and Hell.  But in the Iliad\nand Odyssey the human heart recognizes its rightful lords as long as it\nshall endure,--Courage and Pity, Fortitude and Fidelity.\n\n\nSocrates is the man who has actually achieved goodness, and tries to make\na science and art of goodness, to find a way in which it can be clearly\nknown and rationally and effectively taught.  \"Can virtue be taught?\" is\nhis characteristic question.  The chief result of his keen scrutiny is to\nbring to light how little men really know of the higher life,--how little\nhe knows of it himself.  The effect of this revelation of ignorance is\nnot a despair of truth, but a humility which is the beginning of wisdom.\nThe deepest thing in Socrates is his knowledge of the good life as a\nreality, and of the joy and peace which it brings.  Secure in this, he\ncan go on in the most fearless temper, and even with light-hearted\njesting, to sift the questions.  Intellectually, his main achievement is\nto bring out clearly the problems to be faced, and to give an immense\nstimulus to the higher class of minds.\n\nIn the picture of Socrates by Xenophon in the Memorabilia, which bears\nall the marks of true portraiture, goodness goes with happiness and\nknowledge.  It is a most winning combination--beautiful as a Greek\nstatue.  Xenophon lays stress on his happiness, but the basis is\nself-command.  Among a people where even religion and philosophy were\ntolerant of sensuality, he was pure.  He was hardy, trained to bear heat\nand cold, temperate, simple, faithful to civic duty, a reverent worshiper\nof the gods, watchful for the divine leading.\n\nXenophon shows him absorbed in teaching, imparting the best he has found,\nnever so happy as when he can win a young man to virtue.  His ideal\nsociety is the union of those who together are seeking goodness and\nknowledge.\n\nHis patience is shown under the worst of domestic annoyances, a scolding\nwife,--he says he thus learns to bear all other crosses.  His admonition\nto his son to bear with her shows genuine tenderness.\n\nHe has the heroic quality.  He resists the raging people, and refuses the\npart assigned him in voting the death sentence on the generals whose\ndefeat had been a misfortune and not a fault.  He calmly disobeys the\nThirty Tyrants, at the risk of his life.  He dies at last, a tranquil\nmartyr to fearless truth-speaking.\n\nHe teaches nobly of Providence, the Supreme, the guidance from above.  He\nconforms to the religion of his people, while planting a higher truth.\nWhen Athens, faithfully warned by him in vain, was sinking toward ruin\nand decay, he was sowing the seeds of spiritual harvests for future\ngenerations, like Jesus when Judea was tottering to its fall.  In the\nintellectual development of man's higher life he holds a place not unlike\nthat of Jesus in the emotional development.\n\nSocrates, as Xenophon describes him, goes no farther as a teacher than to\nimpress the principles of conduct as they were generally accepted by good\nmen of the time, with peculiar persuasiveness.  But Plato shows him as an\noriginal investigator of the human mind and the universe.  In this there\nis an undoubted trait of true portraiture, but its limit is very\ndifficult to trace, because in Plato's dialogues the master is made the\nmouthpiece of all the pupil's philosophy.  The most distinctive feature\nwhich can be identified as that of Socrates himself is the\ncross-examination.  Under this process, high-sounding generalities,--put\nin the mouths of speakers in the dialogues, the whole word-play set forth\nwith exquisite grace and charm,--are shown by a rigid sifting to resolve\nthemselves into nebulous and baseless figments,--the mere simulacra of\ntrue knowledge.\n\nThe conversations glide from this destructive analysis into a\nconstructive philosophy, and then we soon feel that it is Plato rather\nthan Socrates whom we are getting.  The great contribution of Socrates\nhimself to philosophy is the attitude he impressed--of inquiry which is\nserious because seeking the foundations of virtue and happiness, and is\ninexorable in its insistence on nothing less than solid reality.  Against\nall allurements of indolence, comfort, and social convention he presses\nthe question, What is _true_?  His characteristic word is:\n\n\"Some things, Meno, I have said of which I am not altogether confident.\nBut that we shall be better and braver and less helpless if we think that\nwe ought to inquire than we should have been if we indulged in the idle\nfancy that there was no knowing and no use in searching after what we\nknow not; that is a theme upon which I am ready to fight, in word and\ndeed, to the utmost of my power.\"\n\n\nPlato took from Socrates not method but inspiration, and soared into\nspeculation.  He wrote over the door of the Academy, \"Let no one enter\nhere who does not know geometry.\"  That is, you are first to acquire\nabsolute confidence, by familiarity with the demonstrations of\nmathematics, that real and certain knowledge is accessible to the human\nmind.  Thus planting his foot on firmest certainty, Plato leaps off into\na glorious sea of clouds.  Flashes of insight and sublime allegory mix\nwith fantastic theory and word-play.\n\nThe vast range of his thought we will touch only at two points.  In the\nSymposium and the Phaedrus he discusses in his most brilliant vein the\nproblem of love.  To the reader who has inherited the ethical ideal of\nChristianity, Plato's love will seem like the image in Nebuchadnezzar's\nvision,--the head of gold, the feet of miry clay.  He has a toleration\nfor some aspects of sensuality of which Paul said, \"it is a shame even to\nspeak;\" and this tolerance, in the greatest of the classic philosophers,\nis the most pregnant suggestion of the cleansing work which it was left\nfor Christianity to undertake.  Yet Plato teaches most impressively the\nsubordination of sense to spirit in love, and the struggle of the two in\nman has seldom been set forth more powerfully than in his figure of the\ntwo yoked horses: the white, celestial steed struggling upward; the\nblack, unruly one plunging down, while Reason, the charioteer, strives to\nguide.  In the description of Love which Socrates professes to quote from\nthe wise woman of Mantineia, there is the very height of the Platonic\nphilosophy,--the gradual sublimation of human passion to the recognition\nof all noble forms and ideas, and at last to the vision of the Divine\nBeauty which is one with Wisdom and with Love.\n\n\"The true order of going or being led by another to the things of love is\nto use the beauties of earth as steps along which he mounts upwards for\nthe sake of that other beauty, going from one to two, and from two to all\nfair forms, and from fair forms to fair actions, and from fair actions to\nfair notions, until from fair notions he arrives at the notion of\nabsolute beauty, and at last knows what the essence of beauty is.\n\n\"What if man had eyes to see the true beauty--the divine beauty, I mean,\npure and clear and unalloyed, not clogged with the pollution of\nmortality, and all the colors and vanities of human life--thither looking\nand holding converse with the true beauty divine and simple, and bringing\ninto being and educating true creations of virtue, and not idols only?\nDo you not see that in that communion only, beholding beauty with the eye\nof the mind, he will be enabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but\nrealities; for he has hold not of an image but of a reality,--and will be\nenabled, bringing forth and educating true virtue, to become the friend\nof God and be immortal, if mortal man may.\" [1]\n\nIt is largely to Plato that we owe the idea of immortality as it exists\nin the mind of the civilized world to-day.  The belief in a continued\nexistence beyond death is much older; it is seen in the Iliad, where the\nappearance of the dead Patroclus to Achilles in a dream is accepted as\nthe assurance of a shadowy and forlorn hereafter; and in the Odyssey the\nvisit of the hero to the land of shades is portrayed with a free and\ngloomy imagination.  It was a belief which among the earlier Greeks had\nlittle power either to console or to guide.  In the age of Socrates, it\nseems to have signified little in the minds of the orthodox and pious.\nThe great tragedians, who sublimate the popular mythology, for the most\npart regard the after-life as only a sad inevitable sequel; and to be\nsnatched back from it for even a brief reprieve, like Alkestis, is\nmiraculous good fortune.  The greatest of the tragedians in his highest\nreach, Sophocles in Oedipus at Colonus, invests the departure of the\nhero, who has been purified by suffering, with a mystic radiance, a\n\"light that never was on sea or land,\" the promise as it were of some\nfuture too sublime for mortal words.  But the philosophy of Socrates was\ndirected rather to the clear penetration of the method and secret of\nearthly life, than to any vision of the hereafter.  It is noticeable that\nXenophon, the loyal disciple and biographer of Socrates, himself of the\nbest type of orthodox piety, and zealous to vindicate his master from the\ncharge of irreligion,--Xenophon, in all the story of the master's life\nand death, gives not a hint of any future hope.  But Plato developed the\nidea that in man there resides an essential, indestructible principle,\nsuperior to the physical frame which is its home and may be either its\nservant or master--a principle which manifests itself in thought,\naspiration, virtue; which has existed before the body and will exist\nafter it; which chooses for itself an upward or downward path; and which\nrightly tends to a celestial and immortal destiny.  The thought never won\nuniversal acceptance even among philosophers; it had only an indirect and\nslight effect on the Stoicism which was the best religious product of\nancient philosophy.  But it wrought by degrees all effect on the thinking\nof mankind.  While the lofty faith of the Egyptian passed away leaving no\nvisible fruit, the idea of Plato slowly suffused with its light and\nwarmth the current of human aspirations.  Meantime, the later Jewish\nbelief in a hereafter--in its form a much cruder conception of a physical\nrevival from the grave--flamed up in a passionate ardor, as the sequence\nof the life and teaching of Jesus.  The Platonic and the Christian belief\nsprang from a like source.  Each was born from the death of a man so\ngreat and so beloved as to give the impression of some imperishable\nquality.\n\nSocrates, with his noble character and aim, was put to death as a\ncriminal.  Was that the end of it all?  Impossible--monstrous--never, if\nthis world be indeed a cosmos.  The one firm certainty which Socrates\nseems to have held, \"No evil can happen to a good man in life or\ndeath,\"--flashes in Plato's mind into a glorious hope of immortality,\nembodied in his loftiest passage, the picture of the dying Socrates.\n\nThe soul when withdrawn from all outward objects and rapt in\ncontemplation is nearest to the divine,--this is the central thought of\nthe Phaedo.  It is pursued with much subtle argumentation, of which the\nessential residuum is this: the soul's action is purest and most intense\nwhen farthest withdrawn from the visible and tangible world,--and hence\nwe guess that her true and eternal home is in that invisible realm of\nwhich all this material universe is but the veil and symbol.\n\nBut more impressive than the argument, more moving to the human heart, is\nthe picture which is given of Socrates himself as the hour of death comes\non,--the exaltation of all his familiar traits, the playfulness so\nexquisitely blent with seriousness, the searching thought, the frank\nhuman desire to be convinced by his own argument,--the charm of his\nfriendly ways, the hand playing with Phaedo's hair, the taking of the cup\n\"in the easiest and gentlest manner, without the least fear or change of\ncolor, looking at the man with all his eyes as his manner was,\"--the last\nword, of calm reminder of a trivial obligation,--the whole scene of\nmajestic and tender peace, like a sunset.  It is a scene which reconciles\nus to life, and makes us no longer impatient even of our uncertainties.\nIt speaks with a voice like that of Landor's verse:--\n\n  \"Death stands above me, whispering low,\n    I know not what into my ear,\n  Of his strange language all I know\n    Is,--there is not a word of fear.\"\n\n\nTo the modern reader there is a singular contradiction between the\ndoctrine of Lucretius and his temper.  The denial of any divine\nsupervision of human life, or any hereafter for man; the dominion over\nall existence of purely material law,--this seems to us to destroy man's\ndearest faith and hope.  This is the teaching of Lucretius, yet on this\nroad he marches with a step so firm and buoyant, an eye so awake to all\nbeauty and grandeur, a spirit so elate, that as we read we catch the\nenergy and elation.  The reading of the riddle is this: the religion\nagainst which Lucretius made his attack was not the soaring idealism of\nPlato, nor the inspiring and consolatory faith of Christianity, but an\noutworn mythology in which this world was ruled by capricious and\nunworthy despots, and the next world was gloomy with terrors and almost\nunlighted by hopes.  Such had become the popular mythology in its later\nday, and as contrasted with this the view and temper of Lucretius are\nrational and manly.  His message went far beyond a negation; he announced\none of the greatest discoveries of the human spirit--the uniformity of\nnature.  Well might the genius of poetry and the vigor of manhood unite\nto make the message impressive and splendid.  Not caprice, but\norder,--not conflict, but harmony,--not deified partialities and spites\nand lusts, but exalted and unchanging law, rules the universe!\n\nWhen Lucretius essayed to define in what this law consists, he fell\nhopelessly short of the mark.  In his revulsion from the chaos and\npettiness of man-like divinities, he fixed on material forces,--clearly\nto be seen and permanent in their operation,--as the only and sufficient\ncause and order.  Those forces, by a brilliant guess, he resolved into an\ninterplay of atoms.  From this basis he projected a physical theory,\nwhich we know now was quite inadequate even for material phenomena, while\nthe application of it to human thought and will was hopelessly\ninsufficient.  Viewed from this standpoint, the spectacle of human life\ntakes on a sadness which the poet's genius cannot dispel, and sometimes\nintensifies.  To man's inner world Lucretius has no serviceable key.  But\nhe is to be judged not by what he missed but by what he gained.  He above\nall others stands as the discoverer of one of the few cardinal truths by\nwhich to-day we interpret the universe,--the constancy of nature.\n\nThe genius of Lucretius did for the realm of thought what Roman\nstatesmanship did for the nations,--it brought peace and order among\nwarring elements, by the imposition of a rule which was often narrow and\nharsh, but which was firm, stable, and the foundation for fairer and\nfreer growths.\n\n\nAlready in Lucretius, and now again in Epictetus, we have passed from the\nGreek into the Roman world.  It is a change partly of race, partly of\ntime, and it is in close analogy with the successive phases of the human\nspirit.  The mythology which satisfied the youth of the world had grown\nunlovely and unreal.  Plato's splendid imaginings had yielded neither a\nsecure basis to the thinker nor a moral guidance to the common man.\nLucretius's interpretation of all events as the product of material law\nhad small power to sustain or cheer when the intellectual glow of the\nbold innovator had subsided.  Thoughtful men sought as their one supreme\nnecessity an adequate and worthy rule of life.  So there was wrought out,\nor grew, the Stoic philosophy.  Based on an intellectual theory, its\nworking strength lay in its consonance with the best habits and aptitudes\nengendered in the world's actual experience.  The Greek type was beauty,\npleasure, thought, freedom; the Roman type was law, obedience,\nself-mastery.  The legion was the school of discipline and fidelity.  The\nforum was the theatre where classes and parties, through rude jostling,\nworked out an efficient political order.  A Greek thinker gave the mould,\nand Roman virtue gave the metal, of the Stoic type.\n\nWe may best study that type in Epictetus,--once a slave, afterward a\nteacher; so careless of fame that he left no written work, and we have\nonly the priceless notes taken down by a faithful scholar, making a book\nwhose stamp of heroic manhood twenty centuries have not dimmed.\n\n\"Man is master of his fate.\"  The true aim of life is goodness, and\ngoodness is within the command of the will.  The lawgiver is Nature, and\nNature bids us to be just, strong, pure, and to seek the good of our\nfellows.  Such was the essence of Stoicism.  As to deity, providence, or\na hereafter,--belief and hope varied, according to the individual; but to\nthe true Stoic the all-important matter was, Act well your part, here and\nnow.\n\nIn Epictetus is always the note of reality and of victory.  While\nactually a slave, he has learned the secret of inward freedom.  His\nessential doctrine is that good and evil reside wholly in the will, and\nthe will is free.  As we choose, so we are.  And by the right choice we\nfind ourselves in harmony with the universe.\n\nThough Epictetus continually appeals to reason, his basal word is to the\nwill.  Be constant to duty--accept the order of things as good, and be\ntrue to the highest law--revere \"nature,\" the established order; obey\n\"nature,\" the ideal law.  Take all for the best, and you make all for the\nbest.\n\nMost practical and inspiring are his counsels.  The war must be waged in\nthe inmost thoughts.  The images that rise to seduce, the images that\nrise to dismay, are to be fought down and driven away.  \"Be not hurried\naway by the rapidity of the appearance, but say, Appearances, wait for me\na little; let me see who you are and what you are about; let me put you\nto the test.  And then do not allow the appearance to lead you on and\ndraw lively pictures of the things which will follow, for if you do, it\nwill carry you off wherever it pleases.  But rather bring to oppose it\nsome other beautiful and noble appearance, and cast out this base\nappearance.  And if you are accustomed to be exercised in this way, you\nwill see what shoulders, what sinews, what strength you have.\" [2]\n\n\"Be willing at length to be approved by yourself, be willing to appear\nbeautiful to God, desire to be in purity with your own pure self and with\nGod.  Then, when any such appearance visits you, Plato says, Have\nrecourse to expiations, go a suppliant to the temples of the averting\nDeities.  It is even sufficient if you resort to the society of noble and\njust men, and compare yourself with them, whether you find one who is\nliving or dead.\"\n\n\"This is the true athlete, the man who exercises himself against such\nappearances.  Stay, wretch, do not be carried away.  Great is the combat,\ndivine is the work; it is for kingship, for freedom, for happiness, for\nfreedom from perturbation.  Remember God, call on him as a helper and\nprotector, as men at sea call on the Dioscuri in a storm.  For what is a\ngreater storm than that which comes from appearances which are violent\nand drive away the reason?\"\n\nEpictetus, compared with Plato, is the warrior philosopher beside the\nseeing philosopher.  He is in closest grip with the foe, and his calm is\nthe calm of the victor holding down his enemy.\n\nHis apparent unconcern as to the hereafter is in keeping with his whole\nattitude, which is that of cheerful acquiescence in the divine order,\nwhatever it be.  \"To be free, not hindered, not compelled, conforming\nyourself to the administration of Zeus, obeying it, well satisfied with\nthis, blaming no one, charging no one with fault, able from your whole\nsoul to utter these verses:--\n\n  \"Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, too, Destiny.\"\n\n\nHe vindicates Providence against injustice.  \"The unjust man has the\nadvantage,--in what?  In money.  But the just man has the advantage in\nthat he is faithful and modest.\"\n\n\"We ought to have these two principles in readiness, that except the will\nnothing is good nor bad; and that we ought not to lead events, but to\nfollow them.  My brother ought not to have behaved thus to me.  No, but\nhe will see to that; and, however he may behave, I will conduct myself\ntoward him as I ought.\"\n\n\"As a mark is not set up for the purpose of missing the aim, so neither\ndoes the nature of evil exist in the world.\"\n\nThat is, it is inconceivable that the universe is a blunder.  This is one\nof the fundamental ideas of Epictetus.  The inference is, that man has\nonly to define his true end and pursue it, which is the right action of\nthe will, or as we should say, right character.  Pursuing this, he never\nfinds himself thwarted or unfriended, never rebels or mistrusts the gods.\n\nThe substance of his message is: \"On the occasion of every accident\n(event) that befalls you, remember to turn to yourself and inquire what\npower you have for turning it to use.\"\n\n\"God has delivered yourself to your own care, and says, 'I had no fitter\none to intrust him to than yourself; keep him for me such as he is by\nnature, modest, faithful, erect, unterrified, free from passion and\nperturbation.'\"\n\nGod, says Epictetus, has made me his witness to men.  \"For this purpose\nhe leads me at one time hither, at another time sends me thither; shows\nme to men as poor, without authority and sick; sends me to Gyara, leads\nme into prison, not because he hates me,--far from him be such a meaning,\nfor who hates the best of his servants? nor yet because he cares not for\nme, for he does not neglect any, even of the smallest things; but he does\nthis for the purpose of exercising me and making use of me as a witness\nto others.  Being appointed to such a service, do I still care about the\nplace in which I am, or with whom I am, or what men say about me? and do\nI not entirely direct my thoughts to God, and to his instructions and\ncommands?\"\n\nThus he falls back on the life of the spirit,--simple, sure, victorious.\nTo place all good in character is the secret.  From virtue grows piety.\nIt is desire set on externals, and so disappointed, that brings\ndiscontent, repining, impiety.\n\nYet Epictetus has distinct and serious limitations.  He assumes that to\navoid all perturbation is the aim of the wise man.  This can be\naccomplished only by the sacrifice of all objects of desire which lie\noutside of the control of the will, and he advises this sacrifice.  \"If\nyou love an earthen vessel, say it is an earthen vessel which you love;\nfor when it has been broken you will not be disturbed.  If you are\nkissing your child or wife, say that it is a human being whom you are\nkissing, for when the wife or child dies you will not be disturbed.\"\n\nAll joys but the purely moral are to be despised.  In going to the\ntheatre one should be indifferent to who gains the prize.  This attempted\nindifference to all the great and little pleasures of life which have no\ndistinct moral character, if successful, makes an ascetic, and of most\nmen is liable to make prigs.  It is the vice of Puritanism.\n\nThe modern world is riper and richer than the Roman world.  We say now,\nthe ideal man is not \"unperturbed.\"  Perturbations are inevitable to the\nman normally and highly developed, with sensibilities and sympathies\nkeenly alive.  The true aim is to include composure, but not as sole and\nsupreme.  This is a more complex development than the Stoic, less capable\nperhaps of symmetrical completeness, but grander, as a Gothic church is\ngrander than a Greek temple.\n\nAgain, the assumption of Epictetus and of all the Stoics that the will is\nwholly free, that man has only to choose and seek goodness and he can\nperfectly achieve it, misses the familiar and bitter experience of\nhumanity, that too often man carries his prison and fetters within\nhimself.  A Roman poet voiced it: _Meliora video proboque, deteriora\nsequor_.  Paul spoke it: \"The good that I would, I do not; and the evil I\nwould not, that I do.\"\n\nBut Epictetus himself is one of the great souls who are not to be\ndescribed by the label of any creed.  He has in himself the secret of\nspiritual victory, and he has a peculiar power to impart it.  The\nlimitations of Stoicism as a creed are more plainly seen in Marcus\nAurelius.  His character, revealed in the \"fierce light that beats upon a\nthrone,\" is of rare nobility and beauty.  To a man's strength he unites a\nwoman's tenderness.  Just because of that tenderness, and the deep heart\nof which it is the flower, the philosophy he so bravely practices gives\nhim but a bleak and chill abiding-place.  Through his Meditations--manly,\nwise, and gracious--there runs a deep note of sadness.  For this man's\nnature cried out for love, and not even faithfulest duty can take the\nplace of love.\n\nStoicism was the most distinct embodiment of the virtues of the classic\nworld.  Those virtues shone in many who did not profess themselves to be\nof the Stoic school.  Plutarch's gallery of portraits is a part of the\nworld's best possession.  His heroes belong not to their own time alone.\nThey may be distinguished in some broad respects from the saints and\nsages of other lands and times; some advance of type may be traced in the\nhighest products of the successive ages; but while one turns the pages of\nPlutarch, he scarcely asks for better company.\n\nWhy, then, did Stoic philosophy fail of more wide or lasting success\namong mankind?  Because--we may perhaps answer--its chief weapon was the\nreasoning intellect, in which only a few could be proficient.  Because,\nfixing its ideal in imperturbability, it denied sensibilities of\naffection, joy, and hope, which are a large part of normal humanity.\nBecause, in its lack of natural science, and its revulsion from the\nmythologic deities, it isolated man in the universe, claiming for the\nindividual will a sovereignty which ignored the ensphering play of\nnatural forces, and denying to the heart any outreach beyond the earthly\nand finite.  If we may venture to summarize the defects of ancient\nphilosophy in two words--it lacked womanliness and it lacked knowledge.\n\nWe are now to study the building up of another side of the ideal man.\nPhilosophy had essayed a religion of the intellect and the will; now from\nJudaism sprang Christianity, a religion of the imagination and the heart.\n\n\nThe highest outcome of the classic civilization was the clear conception\nand strenuous practice of right for its own sake.  The outcome of Judaism\nin Christianity was essentially the belief and feeling of an intimate\nunion between man and a higher power, with love and obedience on the one\nside, love and providence on the other.\n\nIn the vast tract of Greek-Roman history, we have looked at only a few of\nthe highest mountain peaks--the noblest contributions.  But since the\nChristian church still treats the Old Testament as one of its charter\ndocuments, we need to enlarge a little upon the general outline and color\nof Jewish history, and we must recognize the shadows as well as the\nlights.\n\nThe traditional interpretation of the Old Testament which is still\ncurrent is based on successive misconceptions, overlaying and blending\nwith each other like close-piled geologic strata.  Pious intent of the\noriginal writers, shaping their facts to suit their theories--later\nassumptions of inspiration and infallibility in the records--theologic\nsystems quarried and built out of these materials--the supposed\ndependence of the most precious faiths of mankind upon these misreadings\nof history,--all these influences, with the lapse of time, have buried so\ndeeply the original facts, that the exhuming and revivifying of the true\nstory, or at least a tolerable similitude of its main lines, has imposed\na gigantic task upon modern scholarship.  Of the results of this\nscholarship, we may give here only a kind of shorthand memorandum.\n\nThe Old Testament as a whole, with precious exceptions, can only by a\ngreat stretch of imagination be claimed as an integral part of \"_the_\nbook of religion\"--the title which Matthew Arnold asserts for the entire\nBible.  The phrase can scarcely be applied to the Old Testament, unless\nit be read through a medium surcharged with association and\nprepossession.  Much of its morality has been outgrown; many of its early\nstories are revolting to us: much, of which the inner meaning is at one\nwith our deepest life, is disguised under phraseology wholly alien to our\nmodern thought and speech.  As a manual of devotion, or as a textbook for\nthe young, the Old Testament can never again fill such a place as it\nfilled to our fathers.  But we can still trace in it many of the upward\nsteps of the race, and there are portions which still hold a deep place\nin the affections of the truly religious.\n\nThe mind at certain stages personifies the Deity with the greatest ease\nand naturalness.  The primitive man interprets the whole world about him\nby the analogy of his own activity.  He sees in all the phenomena of\nnature the presence of personal beings,--beings who act and suffer and\nenjoy and love and hate as he does himself.  The sky, the sun, the wind,\nthe ocean, represent each a separate deity.  Next, each clan, or city, or\nnation, comes to regard itself as under the patronage of one of these\ndeities.  The national god of the Israelites, at the earliest time we\nknow them, bore the name of Yahveh,--a name more familiar to us under the\nform Jehovah.  Originally he was probably the god of the sun and fire.\nHis acts were seen everywhere, his motives guessed.  The heat and light\nof the sun--now illumining, now fructifying, now blasting--were his\nimmediate manifestations.\n\nLater, he was conceived to favor certain kinds of human action.  He was\nat first appeased under the influences of analogies from the lower side\nof human nature,--Give him a present, something to eat, or to smell, or\nto see.  Then came the idea that he was the friend and favorer of the\nrighteous,--of the merciful and just.  The turning-point in the history\nof Judaism--the birth-hour of religion as it has come down to us--is\nmarked by that great dimly-seen personality, Moses, who taught that the\nworship of Yahveh forbade murder, adultery, theft, false witness,\ncovetousness.\n\nThe Jews had neither science nor logic; they had no intelligent induction\nas to nature,--hence they never got beyond the idea of supernatural\nintervention.[3]  Apparently they never challenged and sifted their\nfundamental ideas,--never raised the question as to the actual existence\nof Yahveh.  They saw and felt the incongruities of the world as a moral\nadministration, and sometimes pressed the inquiry, as in Job, _Why_ does\nYahveh thus?  But the denial of any ruling personal Will, as by\nLucretius, was impossible to them.  They were imaginative, intense, and\ntheir imagination got the saving ethical impress especially from the\nprophets.\n\nJudaism as a religion grew from \"the Law and the Prophets.\"  From almost\nthe earliest historic time there existed some brief code of\nprecepts,--probably an abbreviated form of what we know as the Ten\nCommandments.  Later came the impassioned preaching of the prophets.\nStill later, there was formulated that elaborate statute-book for which\nby a pious fiction was claimed the authority of Moses.\n\nThe prophets spoke out of an exaltation of which no other account was\ngiven than it was the inspiration of Yahveh,--\"Thus saith the Lord!\"\nThey did not argue, they asserted--with a passion that bred conviction,\nor at least fear and respect.\n\nIt is here that the distinction between the Greek and the Hebrew method\nis most marked.  Socrates, for example, called himself the midwife of\nmen's thoughts.  His maxim was, \"Know thyself.\"  His cross-examination\nwas designed to make men see for themselves.  That is, he taught by\nreason.  But the prophet's claim was, \"Thus saith the Lord!\"  He spoke\nout of his personal and passionate conviction, for which he believed he\nhad the highest supernatural sanction.\n\nThe heart of the typical prophetic message was that the Ruler of the\nworld is a righteous ruler, and that the service he desires is\nrighteousness.  The early prophets--such as Micah, Hosea, Amos--speak\nwith scorn of the worship by sacrifices,--whether the fruits of the\nearth, or slaughtered beasts, or the ghastly offering of human life.\nHosea cries: \"I desired mercy, and not sacrifice; and the knowledge of\nGod more than burnt offerings.\"  So Micah speaks: \"Shall I come before\nhim with burnt offerings, with yearling calves?  Will the Lord be pleased\nwith thousands of rams or with ten thousands of rivers of oil?  Shall I\ngive my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin\nof my soul?  He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the\nLord require of thee but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk\nhumbly with thy God?\"\n\nFurther, the prophets assumed to know and declare Yahveh's will on public\naffairs, especially on the government of the nation.  They tried to\ndictate the attitude of Judea toward other kingdoms--an attitude\ngenerally of proud defiance.  Often their counsel ignored the\nactualities, and helped to precipitate Judah and Israel into hopeless\nconflicts with their mighty neighbors.  When in these conflicts they were\nworsted, the prophets laid the disaster to the idolatry or other\nwickedness of the people.  Finally came utter defeat and dispersal, and\nan exile for generations in a foreign land.  Then the prophets rose to an\nintenser faith,--purer, tenderer, more spiritual.  Some time and somehow\nthe Lord would surely be gracious to his people!\n\nBut when the captives, or a part of them, were restored to their own\nland,--with lowered fortunes and humbled pride, half dependent still on a\nforeign master,--the prophetic enthusiasm no longer availed to give a\nfresh message from the Lord.  Instead, the leaders and founders of the\nrestoration--Ezra, Nehemiah, and their associates and followers--built up\na well-organized, well-enforced system of discipline.  They reshaped the\nold traditions, enlarged and codified them; they shaped the Pentateuch\nand book of Joshua, as we know them now; they purified and beautified the\nTemple service; they instituted synagogues in every town, where religious\nteaching should be regular and constant; they developed a class of\n\"Scribes,\" or expositors of the Law; they multiplied ceremonial\nobservances; they rewrote the national history, and invested their laws\nwith the sacredness of divine oracles, under the august name of Moses;\nthey imposed deadly penalties and bitter hatred on all who deviated from\nthe established religion.  All this was the work of centuries, and its\nimportant result was that by a manifold and perpetual drill certain\nreligious ideas were stamped upon the minds of the people, until beliefs\nand usages and sentiments ran in their very blood and were transmitted\nfrom father to son.\n\n\nAs types of the Hebrew religion in its advancing stages we may note:\nfirst, Jacob, winning his way by craft and subtlety, gaining the favor of\nhis god by a fidelity which expresses itself by vows and sacrifices and\nscarcely at all by morality; and hardly attractive except in the\ntenderness of his family relations.  A mythical figure, he is a marvelous\nembodiment of the persistent race-traits of the Jew--tenacity, craft,\ndevoutness--in the early phase.  It is a very earthly phase, but with the\ngerms of a marvelous development.  Later, we have David, the warrior\nking.  Still later comes Elijah, the prophet of a Deity who now stands\nfor chastity and justice against gods of sensuality and cruelty, and\ndefying wicked kings in the name of that God.  Then in the line of\nprophets we may pass to their greatest, Isaiah,--both first and second of\nthe name,--each of whom in the deepest adversity of the people is\ninspired by a hope, vague in its expectation, but so deep, so fervid, so\nsweet, that to this day it lends its language to hearts which in darkness\nlook for the morning.  Next we may take Ezra, rebuilding the shattered\nnationality, not on a political basis, but by a law of personal conduct\nin which a genuine morality is mixed with a ceremonial code.  And here\nreally belongs the legislation ascribed to Moses and given in the\nPentateuch; the law-giver having an original in some great, dim, historic\nfigure, long treasured in the popular imagination, but rehabilitated by\npriestly art as the author of a great volume of minute legislation, to\nwhich dignity is lent by the legends of a personality sublime yet meek.\nWe have then the flowering of the inner life, in the book of Psalms,--the\nsingle name of the Psalmist covering the products of many minds and\nsuccessive generations.  In the course of affairs, the hero's place\nbelongs next to Judas Maccabaeus, the patriot leader against the heathen\nGreek; and we may take the books of the Maccabees and the book of Daniel\nas giving the ideal thought of the period,--the matrix of belief and hope\nfrom which was to spring the crowning flower of Judaism.\n\nIt will suffice for our purpose if from this series we touch upon David,\nthe Psalms, the book of Job, Isaiah, and the literature of the Maccabean\ntime.\n\n\nThe real place of David is that of the warrior-king who gave\nindependence, unity, and victory to the people of Israel.  It was he who\nbroke the yoke of the Philistines which Saul had weakened, and slew in\nfight their gigantic champion.  He conquered and subjected the\nneighboring tribes; he put down the rebellions headed by his own sons; he\nmade and kept Israel for a brief term a proud and victorious military\nmonarchy.  Within a single generation after his death it was divided into\ntwo hostile fragments, and both of these gradually fell under foreign\nconquerors.  Very short was the period of Israel's warlike glory, and for\na thousand years afterward the national heart turned in love and\nreverence to the hero of that time.  As the Saxons remembered Alfred, as\nAmericans remember Washington, so the Israelites remembered David.  It\nwas in his image and under his name that they pictured a future which\nshould outshine their past.  Israel throughout the period when she is\nmost distinctly before us was a subject people.  It was largely the\npresence of a foreign oppressor which gave to the national voice that\ntone of intense entreaty toward a divine friend and deliverer which runs\nits pathos through psalm and history and prophecy.  There had been a\nbetter day for Israel, before Assyrian and Egyptian trampled her.  There\nhad been a day when Philistia and Edom quailed and fell before her, and\nthe Lord wrought victory by the hand of David.  So it is David's history\nthat stands out fullest and clearest in the whole record, from Abraham\nonward.  How much is true history and how much is imaginative addition\nmust be largely guesswork.  But we see in David the ideal hero and type\nof that period of Jewish history as we see in Achilles and Odysseus the\nideal types of primitive Greece.\n\nAnd the story of David is as deeply colored with the primal passions of\nhumanity as are the songs of Homer.  There is the picture of the\nshepherd-boy, to which must be added the exquisite psalm which later\ntraditions put in his mouth; the victory over the giant; the most\npathetic story of the moody and wayward Saul--the power of music over his\nmelancholy, the alternations of jealous rage and compunction; the\nfriendship with Jonathan, more tender and pure than the friendships Plato\npictures; the dramatic fortunes of the outlaw; the family tragedies full\nof crime and horror; the dark story of Amnon, Tamar, and Absalom; the\npassion of fatherhood in fullest intensity, with the agonized prayers for\nthe sick child and the heartbroken lament over Absalom; the group of\nvaliant captains and their chivalrous exploits; the risk of life to bring\nto their homesick chief a drink from the well of Bethlehem; the story of\nBathsheba and Uriah--lust, treachery, and murder; the prophet's rebuke;\nthe years declining under heavy shadows.  How full of lifeblood it all\nis!  Every chapter is an idyl, an epic, or a tragedy.\n\nIt is largely this picturesque dramatic quality which made the English\nBible in its early days the favorite book of the English people, and has\nkept for it always so high a place.  But the attempt to reduce a story\nlike David's to terms of spiritual edification has been difficult above\nmeasure, ever since mankind advanced beyond the half-barbaric age in\nwhich the story was told.  Judged by our standards, the ethics of the\nstory are often low, and its religion is largely a superstition.  What\nbrings the Almighty on the scene is most frequently some great calamity,\nwhich priest or soothsayer interprets as a divine judgment.  Often there\nis attributed to him the quality of a jealous Oriental despot.  The\njustice he enforces is often injustice and savagery.  Take the story of\nthe Gibeonites.  A three years' famine in Israel was explained by\nYahveh's oracle as a retribution for the breach of faith by Saul, many\nyears before, with the Gibeonites, whom he had persecuted in defiance of\nancient compact.  David thereupon invited the Gibeonites to name the\nrequital which would appease them, and they asked for the death of seven\nsons of Saul.  So David delivered the seven innocent men into their\nhands, \"and they hanged them before the Lord.\"\n\nThe Zeus of Homer is offensive to religious feeling because he fully\nshares the sensuality which we account one of the great defects of\nhumanity.  From that blemish the Hebrew idea of God is always free.  The\nhostility between Yahveh and the heathen gods has its deep ethical\nsignificance in the struggle of chastity against licentiousness, to which\nthe religious sanction brings reinforcement.  But the Hebrew God has a\nsavage and vindictive quality, which only slowly and partially\ndisappears.  Originally, it is probable, the God of the sun and fire,\nbeneficent to illumine, malevolent to burn, he remains always in some\ndegree a God of wrath.\n\nIt was by one of the strange growths of the advancing popular thought\nthat David, the valiant, passionate soldier-king, came to be conceived of\nas the writer of the book of Psalms.  Historically a misconception, it\nyet lent a continuity and ideal unity to the nation's self-interpretation.\n\nThe book of Psalms, says Dean Stanley, is the selected hymns of the\nJewish people, for a period as long as from Chaucer to Tennyson.  The\nservice-book of the Second Temple is Kuenen's description.  Beyond any\nother single book, it shows us the heart of Judaism in its ripest, most\ncharacteristic development.  Its language has become saturated with the\nassociations of many centuries.  In these intense, direct, and fervid\nutterances we can see the form and lineaments of a faith which was the\nancestor of our own, yet is not the same.\n\nThe religion of the Psalms has different phases.  We have here the\nexperiences of many souls, with a certain kinship, yet with wide\ndifferences.  In many of these hymns one recognizes the religion in which\nJesus was cradled.  Imagination and feeling have full scope.  The\nconstant idea is of Yahveh, ruler of the world and its inhabitants, the\njudge of the wicked and friend of the good.  \"Mark the perfect man and\nbehold the upright, for the end of that man is peace.\"  \"How excellent is\nthy loving-kindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust\nunder the shadow of thy wings.\"  \"Thy righteousness is like the great\nmountains; thy judgments as a great deep.\"  \"The Lord redeemeth the soul\nof his servants, and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate.\"\n\"Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man that\ntrusteth in him.\"\n\nThe depth and passion of the struggle against sin is shown in the\nfifty-first Psalm.  \"Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy\nloving-kindness; according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot\nout my transgressions.\"  \"Against thee, thee only, have I sinned.\"  \"Wash\nme, and I shall be whiter than snow.\"  \"Make me to hear joy and\ngladness.\"  \"Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit\nwithin me.\"  \"Thou desirest not sacrifice, else would I give it.  The\nsacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, O\nGod, thou wilt not despise.\"\n\nThis passion against sin--this cry for inward purity--is the root of the\nreligion of Jesus, the blessedness of the pure in heart; the warfare of\nPaul, the spirit against the flesh.\n\nIn other psalms, again, is a poignant cry for help and deliverance.  It\nis the expostulation of the soul with Fate, the cry to a Power who should\nbe a friend, but hides his face.  There, is a pathetic sense of man's\nfrailty and mortality.  \"Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give ear unto my\ncry; hold not thy peace at my tears, for I am a stranger with thee and a\nsojourner, as all my fathers were.  O spare me, that I may recover\nstrength, before I go hence, and be no more.\"\n\nPraise for God's greatness and awe for his eternity are joined with the\nsad sense of man's mortality.  \"Wilt thou show wonders to the dead?\nShall the dead arise and praise thee?  Shall thy lovingkindness be\ndeclared in the grave? or thy faithfulness in destruction?  Shall thy\nwonders be known in the dark? and thy righteousness in the land of\nforgetfulness?\"\n\nVery often again the burden is the cry of the weak against the oppressor.\nMan, wronged by his fellow, cries to God, and can imagine no deliverance\nsave by the ruin of his enemies.  The cursing is tremendous.  \"O daughter\nof Babylon, happy shall he be that taketh thy little ones and dasheth\nthem against the stones!\"  At this point is the widest ethical difference\nbetween \"them of old time\" and our own religion.  In them, abhorrence of\nsin was not yet distinguished from hatred of the sinner, and the foes of\nthe Psalmist or his nation were always identified with the foes of God.\nTo hate thine enemy seemed as righteous as to love thy friend.\n\nIn a sense we may say the Psalms are a cry to which Jesus is the answer:\n\"Lord, save me, and destroy my enemies!\"  \"Love your enemies, and in\nloving you are saved.\"\n\nIn the book of Psalms there blends and alternates with the old theory of\nreward and punishment a later idea,--that goodness carries its own\nblessing with it,--that better than oil and wine, flocks and herds,\nhealth and friends, is the peace of well-doing, the joy of gratitude,\nyes, even the passionate contrition in which the soul revolts from its\nown sin and finds again the sweetness of the upward effort and a response\nto that effort like heaven's own smile.  Not, goodness brings blessings,\nbut goodness _is_ blessed; not, the wicked shall perish, but wickedness\n_is_ perdition; this is the deep undertone of the best of the Psalms.\n\nAmong these hymns are some which are filled with a noble delight in the\nworks of nature,--a fresh, glad pleasure in the whole spectacle of\ncreation, from sun and stars, sea and mountains, to the goats among the\nhills, and the conies of the rock.  There is frank satisfaction in the\nbread which strengtheneth man's heart and the wine that makes him glad.\nAnd all this free human joy in the activities and splendors of nature\nnever so much as approaches the perilous slope towards sensuality.  It is\neverywhere sublimated by the all-pervading recognition of a holy and\nbeneficent God.\n\nWhat may be said of the Psalms generally is this: they express the most\nvivid and various play of human emotions,--sorrow, wrath, repentance,\njoy, dread, hope,--always exercised as in the presence of an Almighty\nbeing, holy, righteous, and the friend of righteous men.  In this is\ntheir abiding power,--this close reflection of the fluctuations in every\nsensitive heart under the play of life's experiences,--encompassed with\nan atmosphere of noble seriousness, and outreaching toward a higher Power.\n\n\nIn the story of the Jewish mind, the book of Job stands by itself.  It is\nnot so much a stage in the progressive development of a faith, as a\npowerful and unanswered challenge to the current assertions of that\nfaith.  The characteristic idea of Judaism was that God rules the world\nin the interest of the good man.  Not so, says Job, the facts are against\nit.  Hear the complaint of a good man to whom life has brought trouble\nand sorrow, without remedy and without hope!  So stood first the bold\narraignment, the earliest voice of truly religious skepticism.  Job is\nskeptical, not from any want of goodness,--he has been strenuously good;\neven now in all his darkness, \"my righteousness I hold fast and will not\nlet it go: my heart shall not reproach me so long as I live.\"  His\ngoodness is of no narrow sort; justice, protection of the oppressed, help\nto the suffering, these have been his delight; from wantonness of sense\nhe has kept himself pure; not even against wrong-doers and enemies has\nhis hate gone out; he has not \"rejoiced at the destruction of them that\nhated me, or lifted up myself when evil found him; neither have I\nsuffered my mouth to sin by wishing a curse to his soul.\"  Yet, after a\nlife of this sort, he finds himself bereft, impoverished, tormented.\nWhere is the righteousness of God?  He turns to his friends for sympathy.\n\"Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends; for the hand of\nGod hath touched me.\"  His friends for reply justify God by blaming Job.\nDoubtless you deserve it all: you must have done all manner of wrong, and\nbeen a hypocrite to boot!  That is all the comfort they give him.  Dreary\nand desolate he stands, no good in the present, no hope in the future.\n\"I cry unto thee, and thou dost not hear me: I stand up, and thou\nregardest me not.  Thou art become cruel to me; with thy strong hand thou\nopposest thyself against me.  I know that thou wilt bring me to death,\nand to the house appointed for all living.\"\n\nUpon that gloom the curtain falls.  \"The words of Job are ended.\"\n\nThe later chapters of the book seem added by successive hands.  They\nintroduce a fresh speaker, to help out the argument for God.  They make\nthe Almighty speak in his own behalf.  His answer is simply an appeal to\nthe wonders of physical nature.  Look, vain man, at my works; consider\nthe war-horse, the behemoth, the leviathan; how can your petty mind judge\nthe creator of these?  This strikes a note which is still heard in the\nmusic of to-day, the awe and reverence before the grandeur of nature\nwhich can sometimes soothe the restlessness of man and hush his\nanxieties, as the harp of David brought peace to the moody Saul.  Yet\nsuch thoughts do not suffice for the man whose personal suffering is\nkeen.  They silence rather than answer the question which presses upon\nJob.\n\nThe story must be otherwise helped out, so some kindly champion of\northodoxy put in a fairy-story climax,--Job got well of his boils, had\nmore sheep and oxen than ever, had other children born to him.  And so\nthe difficulty is happily solved!\n\nBut the earlier and deeper words remain, with their unanswerable\nchallenge to the comfortable creed that God will always make the good man\nhappy.  The book stands, the expression of a typical, a mournful but\nsublime attitude of the human mind.  It is a facing of truth when truth\nlooks darkest, rather than to take refuge in comfortable make-believe.\nAnd it shows man falling back on his innermost stronghold of all.  If God\nhimself fail me,--if the power of the universe be cruel or\nindifferent,--yet \"my righteousness I hold fast, and will not let it go;\nmy heart shall not reproach me so long as I live.\"\n\n\nThe habitual weapon of the Prophets is denunciation.  They pour out on\ntheir opponents a wrath which is the hotter because it involves a moral\ncondemnation, and the heavier because it claims the sanction of Deity.\nAmong their exemplars are Samuel deposing Saul, and scaring him from the\ntomb, and Elijah slaying the priests of Baal.  Of the written prophecies\nthe characteristic word is \"Woe unto you!\"  They are the prototypes of\nJesus assailing the Pharisees and driving out the money-changers; of the\nbook of Revelation; of Tertullian proclaiming the torments of the damned;\nof the mediaeval ban on the heretic; of Puritan and Catholic hurling\nanathemas at each other; of Carlyle, of Garrison.  But in the greatest of\nthe prophets the threat is almost hidden by the promise, and instead of\ncursing there is benediction.\n\nWhoever would get at the heart of the Old Testament, and understand the\nspell which the religion first of Judaism and then of Christianity has\ncast upon the world for thousands of years, should ponder the book of\nIsaiah.  It blends the work of two authors, but their spirit is closely\nakin.  In each case the prophet is full of a conviction so intense that\nhe propounds it with perfect confidence as the word of God.  By the\nboldest personification, he speaks continually in the name of God.  This\nwas the characteristic method of Hebrew prophecy.  The prophetic books\nall stand as for the most part the direct word of God.  This way of\nthought and speech was possible only to men in an early stage of\nintellectual development and under the highest pressure of conviction and\nemotion.\n\nThe traditional repute of these Jewish prophets and the record of their\nwords were accepted by both Jews and Christians.  Their writings were\ntaken as the authoritative voice of God.  The same credit came to be\nextended to all the ancient books of the Jewish religion,--psalms,\nhistories, genealogies, ritual, and all.  But it is mainly the prophecies\nto which this character originally belonged.  The Psalms are, with few\nexceptions, purely human in their standpoint.  In them, it is avowedly a\n_man_ who mourns, rejoices, repents, prays, curses, or gives thanks.  But\nin the prophecies God himself is presented as the speaker.\n\nIn both the earlier and later Isaiah, God appears as speaking to men in\nextreme need, in words of incomparable comfort, inspiration, and hope.\nTo whatever special exigency of Israel they were first addressed, the\nlanguage, stripped of all local references, comes home to the universal\nhuman heart in its deepest experiences.  To the divine favor this\nteaching sets only one condition: \"Cease to do evil, learn to do well.\"\n\"Seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for\nthe widow.\"  \"If ye be willing and obedient.\"  \"Say ye to the righteous\nthat it shall be well with them, for they shall eat the fruit of their\ndoings.  Woe unto the wicked; it shall be ill with him, for the reward of\nhis hands shall be given him.\"  On the one simple condition of turning\nfrom moral evil to good, the blessings of the inner life are promised in\nevery tone of assurance, consolation, promise.  \"Though your sins be as\nscarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson,\nthey shall be as wool.\"  \"Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your\nGod.  Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her that her\nwarfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned.\"  \"He shall feed\nhis flock like a shepherd; he shall gather the lambs with his arm and\ncarry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with\nyoung.\"  \"Sing, O heavens, and be joyful, O earth, and break forth into\nsinging, O mountains, for the Lord hath comforted his people, and will\nhave mercy upon his afflicted.\"\n\nThe most triumphant word in the New Testament, and its tenderest word,\nboth are drawn from one verse in the elder Isaiah: \"He will swallow up\ndeath in victory, and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all\nfaces.\"\n\nThe distinctive word and thought of Jesus toward God is first found in\nthe later Isaiah,--\"our Father.\"  \"Doubtless thou art our father, though\nAbraham be ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledge us not; thou, O Lord,\nart our father, our redeemer; thy name is from everlasting.\"  The word\nrecurs, together with an image which by a later than Jesus was made the\nsymbol of an arbitrary divine despotism, but which Isaiah first employed\nto blend the idea of omnipotent power with closest affection: \"O Lord,\nthou art our father; we are the clay and thou the potter; and we are all\nthe work of thy hand.\"  A similitude is used even gentler than a father's\ncare: \"As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.\"  \"Can a\nwoman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on\nthe son of her womb?  Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.\"\n\nBy the later Isaiah is shown the figure of an innocent sufferer, whose\nsorrows are to issue in the widest blessing.  This sufferer has been\ninterpreted sometimes as typifying the few heroic souls among the people\nof Israel, sometimes as a prophet in Isaiah's day, last and most fondly\nas Christ.  Whomever the prophet had in mind, the idea goes home to the\nheart; somehow, undeserved sorrow borne blamelessly, bravely, even\ngladly, since for love's sake, is to have a celestial fruitage.\n\"Despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with\ngrief;\" \"he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows,\"--and at last\n\"he shall see of the travail of his soul, and be satisfied.\"  Then the\nstrain breaks into an exultant tenderness, weaving into one chord the\ndeepest griefs and consolations of woman, the sublimities of nature, all\nthe passion and all the peace of the heart.  \"Sing, O barren, thou that\ndidst not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, thou that didst\nnot travail with child, for more are the children of the desolate than\nthe children of the married wife, saith the Lord.  Fear not, for thou\nshalt not be ashamed.  For thy Maker is thy husband, the Lord of hosts is\nhis name, and thy redeemer the Holy One of Israel.  For a small moment\nhave I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee.  In a\nlittle wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment, but with everlasting\nkindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer.  The\nmountains shall depart and the hills be removed, but my kindness shall\nnot depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed,\nsaith the Lord that hath mercy on thee.  O thou afflicted, tossed with\ntempest, and not comforted!  I will lay thy stones with fair colors, and\nlay thy foundations with sapphires; and all thy children shall be taught\nof the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children.\"\n\nTo such words men and women in all times have clung, and always will\ncling.  For, so first spoke a voice in some soul which in the heart of\nthe storm had found peace.  He called it the voice of God.  What better\nname can we give it?\n\n\nIn the prophecies and the psalms we have seen the high-wrought poetry of\nIsrael's religion.  For the requirements of daily life there needs a more\nprosaic, definite, and minute guidance.  This the Jew found in the body\nof usages and precepts which gradually grew up under the care of the\npriesthood.  The prescriptive sanction of habit attached to these\nobservances was at certain memorable epochs exchanged for a belief in the\ndirect communication of the code from heaven.  One such occasion was the\nfinding of the \"book of the Law\" by the high priest, and its presentation\nand enforcement on king and people which is recorded in 2 Kings xxii. and\nxxiii.  The strong indications are that this was the book known to us as\nDeuteronomy, and that instead of the rediscovery of a forgotten book\nthere was in truth a new book set forth, claiming the authority of Moses,\nand enlarging and enriching the traditional observances according to the\nmost \"advanced\" ideas of the time.  A similar occasion, at a later\nperiod, is described at length in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah.  The\nnew legislation there imposed in the name of Moses and the fathers--or\nrather of Yahveh himself, as he spoke to the men of old--was probably in\nsubstance the regulations contained in Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers.\n\nBy our standards of judgment, these acts were pious forgeries.  The\nmental conditions under which they were done, the psychologic state which\nprompted them, the ethical standards which sanctioned them, are matter\nfor curious study.  It would be crude to class them as the deliberate and\ninexcusable crimes which they would be in our day.  The claim of a divine\nauthority for human beliefs--the idea that what is morally beneficial may\nbe asserted as historically true--has worked in many strange forms.  We\nsee it here in its early phase, among a people in whom, as in mankind at\nlarge, the virtue and obligation of truthfulness was a late and slow\ndiscovery.  The same instinct--to claim for what we wish to believe a\nsanction of infallible revelation--works in subtle forms to-day.\n\nAs to the contents of the Law which thus gradually took form, a\ndistinction may easily be traced even by the cursory reader.  The earlier\ncode, Deuteronomy, is full of a generous and lofty temper.  It is one of\nthe most impressive documents of the Jewish scriptures.  Here is that\nwhich Jesus named as the first and great commandment: \"Thou shalt love\nthe Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all\nthy might.\"  The teaching of the book is primarily the worship of\nYahveh,--a holy, loving, and judging God,--who rewards his people with\nblessings or punishes them with disasters.  Promises and threats are\nequally distinct and vivid: never were blessing and cursing more\nemphatic.  The morality enjoined is charitable and pure.  With an equal\ninsistence is enjoined a certain method and form of worship, including\nsacrifices at the temple, three yearly feasts, the observance of the\nSabbath, the due maintenance of the priesthood, and the utter rejection\nof all other gods.\n\nWhen we turn to the other books of the Law, we come into an atmosphere\nless exalted, and with a multiplicity of ceremonial details.  There is\nendless regulation as to varieties of sacrifice, cleansing from technical\nuncleanness, and the like.  Interwoven with these, as if on an equal\nfooting, are special applications of morality--inculcations of chastity,\njustice, and good neighborhood.  The principles of the Ten\nWords--themselves an inheritance from a very early day--are applied in\nmany particulars.  Occasionally is a lofty sentiment, a clear advance.\nThus we find in Leviticus the \"second commandment\" of Jesus, \"Thou shalt\nlove thy neighbor as thyself.\"\n\nThe general increase in rigidity of ceremonial in these books is to be\nread along with the stern decrees of Ezra as to separation from family\nand friendly relations with non-Jewish neighbors.  It was, in a word, a\nPuritan reformation.  There was just the same combination of heightened\nmoral conviction with urgency upon matters of form and detail, and\nhostility to all outside of one special church, which belonged to the\nPuritan.  But the Jewish reformer, unlike the English, enlarged instead\nof simplifying his ritual.  It is this interblending of outward\nobservance with moral and spiritual quality which stumbles the modern\nreader at every page.  It was a confusion which needed the spiritual\ngenius of Jesus to dissolve, and the leadership of Paul to definitely\nrenounce.\n\nBy the side of the ceremonial element in the Law there ripened gradually\nan expansion of its moral precepts.  The sacred books were expounded by\nthe Scribes.  The preacher in the synagogue came to touch the people's\nheart often more closely and delicately than the priest with his bloody\nsacrifices and his imposing liturgies.  Spontaneity, inspiration,\nprophetic power, was no longer present, but in the guise of comment and\ninterpretation there grew up a gentler, humaner morality.  The moral\nvalue of labor and industry came into recognition.  There were teachers\nlike Hillel and Gamaliel in whom devout piety and homely practice went\nhand in hand.  In the ethics of Judaism--under all these various forms of\n\"the Law and the Prophets\"--the distinctive note, compared with the\nethics of Greece and Rome, was chastity.  The ideal Greece represented\nwisdom and beauty; the ideal Rome was valor and self-control; the ideal\nIsrael was the subjugation of sense to spirit, the approach of man to God\nby purity of life.\n\nThe twofold service of Judaism was to impress this special note of\nchastity on human virtue, and to give to virtue the wings of a great\nhope.  The flowering of that hope was in Christianity; the preparation\nfor it comes now before us.\n\nUnder the rule of Alexander's successors the Jewish system, with its\nmixture of ethics and ritual, came in collision with the ideas and\npractice of degenerate Greek culture,--pleasure-loving,\nnature-worshiping, sensual, with gymnastics and aesthetics, tolerant and\ntyrannical.  The two systems were hostile alike in their virtues and\nvices.  The Greek ruler put down with a strong hand the religious and\npatriotic scruples of his Jewish subject.  The Jew bore persecution with\nthe tough endurance of his race, then rose in revolt with the fierce\ncourage and religious fervor of his race.  He won his last victory in the\nfield of arms.  Brief was the independence, soon followed by inglorious\nservitude; but its sufferings and triumphs had fused the nation once more\ninto invincible devotion to the Law of their God, and had rooted in their\nhearts a principle of hope which in varying forms and growing power was\nto change the aspect of human life.\n\nIt seems natural to man to ascribe some impressive origin, some dramatic\nbirth, to the beliefs that are dearest to him.  But if we trace back\nthrough Christian and Jewish lineage the idea of immortality, we are\nquite unable to discover the time or place of its beginning.  The early\nJew thought of death much as did the early Greek,--as the extinction of\nall that was precious in life, and the transition to a shadowy and\nforlorn existence in the realm of shades.  The Hades of Homer seems much\nto resemble the Sheol of the Old Testament, though more vividly\nconceived.  The strong, ruddy, passionate life of the Hebrew found as\nlittle to cheer it in the outlook beyond death as did the energetic,\ngraceful, joyful life of the Greek.  Ancient Egypt had, at least for the\ninitiate, a noble teaching of retribution hereafter to crown the mortal\ncareer with fit consummation of joy or woe.  Ancient Persia had in its\nown form a like doctrine.  The Hebrews in their servile period caught not\na scintilla of the Egyptian faith.  In their exile it is probable that\nthey did get some unrecorded influence from their Persian neighbors.\nUnmistakably, their emigrants to Alexandria, meeting there the nobler\nform of Greek culture while the Palestinian Jews encountered its baser\nside, caught some inspiration from the philosophy which followed, though\nafar off, the noble visions of Plato.  Whether Persia or Greece was more\ndirectly the source of the new hope which crept almost unperceived into\nthe stern bosom of Judaism is not certain.  But the first clear voice of\nthat hope comes from the time of the martyrs.  In the second book of the\nMaccabees is told--probably by an Alexandrian Jew--the story of the men\nand women who faced a dreadful death rather than disobey the Law of their\nGod.  In that last extremity--that confrontal of the soul by the\nbitterest choice, and its acceptance of death rather than\nwrong-doing--comes the sudden voice of a hope triumphant over the tyrant.\n\"Thou like a fury takest us out of this present life, but the King of the\nworld shall raise us up, who have died for his laws, unto everlasting\nlife.\"  So in succession bear testimony the seven sons of one mother,\nherself the bravest of them all.  \"She exhorted every one of them in her\nown language, filled with courageous spirit; and stirring up her womanish\nthoughts with a manly courage, she said unto them: 'I cannot tell how ye\ncame into my womb: for I neither gave you breath nor life, neither was it\nI that formed the members of every one of you.  But doubtless the Creator\nof the world who formed the generations of man, and found out the\nbeginning of all things, will also of his due mercy give you breath and\nlife again, as ye now regard not your own selves for his laws' sake.\nFear not this tormentor, but, being worthy of thy brethren, take thy\ndeath, that I may receive thee again in mercy with thy brethren.'\"\n\nJust as the death of Socrates inspired in Plato the out-reaching hope of\na hereafter, so these Jewish martyrdoms quickened the doubtful guess, the\ndim conjecture, into fervid conviction.  From this period dates the\nsettled Jewish belief in immortality.\n\nThe form which that belief assumed is seen in the book of Daniel.  That\nbook was a creation of this period, inspired by its sufferings,\naspirations, and hopes.  The writer, assuming the name and authority of a\ntraditional hero,--by that easy confusion of the ideal and the historical\nwhich we have seen before,--blends with stories of unconquerable fidelity\nand divine deliverance his own interpretation of the world's recent\nhistory and probable future.  It is an early essay in what we call the\nphilosophy of history, the first recorded conception of a world-drama.\nMedian, Persian, Greek, and Roman monarchies move their appointed course\nand pass away.  God's plan is working itself out, and the culmination is\nyet to come.  In vision the prophet beholds it: the \"Ancient of days,\"\nwith garment white as snow and hair like pure wool, upon a throne like\nfiery flame, with wheels as burning fire.  Thousands of thousands\nminister before him: the judgment is set and the books are opened.  One\nlike the Son of Man comes with the clouds of heaven, and there is given\nto him dominion and glory and a kingdom which shall not pass away.  In\nhis kingdom shall be gathered the saints of the Most High.  Many of them\nthat sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to ever-lasting\nlife and some to shame and everlasting contempt.\n\nThis was the figure in which the Jewish imagination clothed the Jewish\nhope.  The national and the individual future blent in one anticipation.\nThe dead were to \"sleep in the dust\" until the day when the divine\nkingdom was established, and then were to rise again to life, and\naccording to their deserts were to share the endless glory or shame.\n\nSo philosophy makes its essay at the destiny of mankind.  So imagination\nfashions its pictures.  And back of philosophy and imagination we trace\nthe elemental and highest forces of the soul.  It is martyrdom and\nmotherhood that inspire the immortal hope.  Man faces the worst that can\nbefall him--drinks the hemlock or suffers the torture--rather than be\nfalse to duty.  The mother broods over the life mysteriously sprung from\nher own, and given back by her as a sacred trust to the service of the\nright and to an unseen keeping.  And to martyr and mother comes the\nvoice, \"All shall be well with thee and thine.\"\n\n\nChristianity, inheriting from Judaism the belief in immortality, gave it\na more central place, and a more appealing force.  Of the older religion,\nthe special characteristic--compared with the Greek and Roman world--was\nthe impressing upon a whole people of a law of conduct, in which with a\nmultitude of external ceremonies were bound up the fundamental principles\nof justice, benevolence, and chastity, enforced by the authority of a\npersonal and righteous God.  We see the educational effect upon the\nreligious Hebrew of this clearly personal God.  It constantly lifted him\nout of the littleness of self-consciousness, setting before his\nimagination the loftiest object.  It gave definiteness and impressiveness\nto his best ideals.  And, further, this anthropomorphism, as we name it\nnow, was but the primitive expression of the principle which is central\nin all forms of religious faith, that man and the universe are in some\ndeepest sense at one, and that man's closest approach to the secret of\nthe universe lies through his own noblest development.  That is one way\nof saying what the Jew felt when his imagination gave to the sternest\ncommand and the highest promise the sanction, \"Thus saith the Lord.\"\n\n\nThe Hebrew religion was wrought out under constant pressure of disaster.\nIt was the religion of a proud, brave people, who were constantly held in\nsubjection to foreign conquerors.  Hence came a quality of intense\nhostility to these tyrannical foes, and also a constant appeal to the\nDivine Power which seemed often to conceal itself.  Hence--and from that\nsorrowful lot of the individual which often matches this national\ntragedy--hence comes the passionate, pleading, poignant quality through\nwhich the Old Testament has always spoken to the struggling and\nsuffering,--with gleams of hope, the more intense from the clouds through\nwhich they shine.\n\nThe note of the New Testament is exultant.  There is keen sense of\npresent evil, endurance, struggle; but there is a deeper sense of a great\ndeliverance already begun and to be perfected in the future.  The heart\nof this new energy, joy, and hope is love for a human yet celestial\nfriend.  This love was awakened by a personality of extraordinary\nnobility and attractiveness.  The personal affection inspired imagination\nand ideality to their highest flights.  Its original object became\ninvested with superhuman traits and elevated to a deity.  To trace with\ncertainty and minuteness the historic lineaments of the real man is not\naltogether possible; but the essential truth concerning him is\nsufficiently plain.\n\nThe biographies which we possess of Jesus were written from thirty to a\nhundred years after his death.  In these records memory and imagination\nare intimately blended.  On the one hand, the power and loftiness of his\ncharacter and words stamped certain traits unmistakably and indelibly on\nthe minds of his followers.  But on the other hand, he was so suggestive\nand inspiring--there were among his disciples natures so susceptible,\nresponsive, yet untrained, and their community was soon fused in such a\ncontagion of passionate feeling unchecked by reason--that the seeds of\nhis words and acts fruited in a rich growth of imagination, which blent\nclosely with the historic reality.  And with the central inspiration of\nhis life there mixed in his followers ideas more or less foreign to him,\nso that the result in the Gospels is a composite which often defies\ncertainty of analysis.\n\nIf we read with open mind the Gospel narratives, the foremost, vivid\nimpression we get is of a personage using superhuman power over natural\nforces for the benefit of mankind.  As he is described, Jesus is before\nall a worker of beneficent miracles.  He is a teacher, too, and an\nunexampled one.  But he enforces his teaching by means utterly\ntranscending the credentials of other teachers.  He is a tender human\nfriend, but he expresses his friendship by services such as no other\nfriend can render.  He allays tempests by a word.  He creates bread and\nwine at will.  He heals the fevered, the lunatic, the blind.  He raises\nthe dead.  In a word, he constantly exercises superhuman power.  It is\nthis, not less than the excellence of his teaching, which has\ndistinguished him in the eyes of his worshipers.  What is the wisest word\nabout immortality worth--what do we care for what Socrates or Plato\nsaid--when here is one who raised Lazarus from the dead and rose himself?\nWhat need for any argument or assurance about Providence, when here is\none through whom the very order of nature is set aside at the impulse of\nbeneficent love?\n\nBut the growing difficulty in really believing the miracles and the\ngrowing preference for the purely human elements of the story have led in\nour time to a different conception.\n\nThe secret of Jesus was the idea and reality of a pure and ardent life.\nHis genius lay in showing the possibilities of the human spirit, in its\ninterior harmony and its relations with the world about it.  _Love your\nenemies_,--in that word he reached the hardest and highest achievement of\nconduct.  _The pure in heart shall see God_,--with that he put in the\nhands of the humblest man the key of the heavenly vision.\n\nThe Hebrew idea was righteousness, in the sense of chastity, justice, and\npiety.  Jesus sublimated this,--in him chastity becomes purity; in place\nof justice dawns brotherhood; and piety changes from personal homage to a\nlove embracing earth and heaven.\n\nJesus taught in parables.  A story--an outward, objective fact, something\nwhich the imagination can body forth--often facilitates the impartation\nto another mind of a spiritual experience.  The soul has no adequate\nlanguage of its own,--it must borrow from the senses and the imagination.\n\nThe central idea of Jesus is expressed in the saying, \"No man knoweth the\nSon but the Father, neither knoweth any man the Father save the Son.\"\nThat is, man is a mystery except to his Maker; he does not even\nunderstand himself.  And correspondingly, \"No man knoweth the Father save\nthe Son:\" only the obedient and loving heart recognizes the Divinity.\nGod is not known by the intellect: he is felt through the moral nature.\nPeace, assurance, sense of inmost reality, comes through steadfast\ngoodness.\n\nJesus impressed this idea by the figure of father and son.  What symbol\ncould he have used more intelligible? more universally coming home?  Like\nall statements of highest truth, all symbols, it was imperfect; it did\nnot furnish an adequate explanation of the workings of the universe.\nBut, under the homeliest figure, under the guise of the nearest human\nrelation, it expressed the greatest truth of the inner life.\n\nFurther, Jesus threw his emphasis where men need it thrown,--not on\nabstract ideas, but on action.  His teaching was always as to conduct.\nPurity, forgiveness, rightness of heart were his themes.\n\nAbove all, he lived what he taught.  He left the memory of a life which\nto his followers seemed faultless.  And ever since, those who felt their\nown inadequacy have laid closest hold on his success, his victory, as\nsomehow the pledge of theirs.\n\n\nJesus was a Jew, but in him there was born into the world a higher\nprinciple than Judaism.  The historic lineage is not to be too much\ninsisted on.  When he said, \"Love your enemies,\" \"Forgive that ye may be\nforgiven,\" he brought into the traditional religion a revolutionary idea.\nJudaism was largely a religion of wrath.  Jesus planted a religion of\nlove.\n\nThe tender plant was soon half choked by the old coarse growth, and for\nmany centuries the religion named after Christ had a vein of hate as\nfierce as the old Judaism.  But blending with it, and struggling always\nfor ascendency, was the religion of love, symbolized by the cradle of\nBethlehem and the cross of Calvary.\n\n\nOf the Judaic traits in Jesus, conspicuous was the prophetic feeling and\ntone.  He was possessed with an absolute fullness of conviction, and\nspoke in a tone of blended ardor and certitude.  \"He taught as one having\nauthority.\"  He rarely gave reasons.  If in his words we find appeal to\nprecedent or argument, it is really as little more than illustration or\npicture to clothe his own intuition.  His followers believed his words,\neither because of some conscious witness in their breasts, or because\ntheir love and reverence for him won for his assertions an unquestioning\nacceptance.\n\nFrom Judaism he took the familiar idea of one all-powerful and holy God;\na moral ideal which was chiefly distinguished from that of the\nGreek-Roman world by its greater emphasis on chastity; and also the\nbelief in a constant divine interposition in human affairs, which soon\nwas to culminate in the establishment of a divine kingdom on earth.\n\nJesus woke in his followers an ardor for goodness, a tenderness for their\nfellow men, and a supreme devotion to himself.  His words went straight\nto the springs of character.  He brushed aside religious ceremonial as of\nno importance.  He sent the searching light of purity into the recesses\nof the heart.  He made love the law of life and the key of the universe.\nHe interpreted love, as a principle of human conduct, by illustrations\nthe most homely, real, and tender.  Love is no mere delicious emotion: it\nis giving our bread to the hungry, ourselves to the needy.  It is not a\nmere felicity of kindred spirits,--love them that hate you, pray for them\nthat despitefully use you!\n\nJesus was the greatest of poets.  To every fact, to every idea, he gave\nits most beautiful and spiritual interpretation.  When he speaks of God,\nhis speech is the pure poetry of the soul.  Yahveh becomes to him the\nAll-father.  His providence is over the lilies and the sparrows.  His\nrain and sunshine are shed on the unjust as on the just.  His inmost\nnature is set forth by the human father meeting his returning prodigal a\ngreat way off.  His very life is shared with his children.  It wells up\nin Jesus himself: the light in his eyes, the tenderness in his tones, the\nyearning in his heart,--it is _my Father_ ye know in me!\n\nHow does that Divine Power appear in the procedure of the universe?  What\nreal providence is there for the slain sparrow?  What is the actual\ndestiny of those human lives which show only frustration and failure?\nJesus does not answer these questions.  It does not appear that he tried\nto answer them.  His words are filled with a glad, unquestioning trust.\nHe is not the philosopher seeking to measure life.  He is the lover\nliving it, the poet delighting in it.\n\nThe secret of Jesus lay in his sense of the \"kingdom of God\" within\nhim,--of obedience, peace, and joy, which was in itself sufficient.\nSimply to communicate and impart that was to spread the Kingdom among men.\n\nA teacher like John the Baptist--possessed by the idea of righteousness,\nand of the world's deficiency, but without tranquillity in his own\nheart--could look only for a divine interposition, a catastrophe.  John\nis a sort of Carlyle.  But Jesus, hearing him, and brooding the deeper\ntruth, goes about proclaiming a present heaven.\n\nThe marks of this inner state defined themselves against the conditions\nof life he saw about him.\n\nThus, he shows his estimate of wealth in the story of the young ruler.\n\"Sell all that thou hast and give to the poor!\"\n\nToward the other prize which men most seek, reputation, his feeling is\nexpressed to the two brethren asking chief places: \"He that will be chief\namong you, let him be your servant.\"\n\nAs to learning, intellectual attainment, his characteristic word is,\n\"Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed\nthem unto babes.\"  \"Be as little children.\"\n\nThe prevalent forms of religious observance he quietly acquiesced in,\nexcept where they barred the free play of human charity.  Then he set the\nform aside, as being only the servant of the spirit.  \"The Sabbath was\nmade for man, not man for the Sabbath.\"\n\nSuch was his attitude toward wealth, honor, intellectual wisdom,\nceremonial.\n\n\nToward the outcasts, the publican and harlots, his attitude was of pure\ncompassion.  Toward the Pharisees it was denunciatory.  Wealth of\nceremony and poverty of spirit, self-complacency mixed with scorn for\nothers and with hostility to new light and love, roused in him a wrath\nwhich broke in lightning-flashes.  \"Woe unto you! whited sepulchres full\nof dead men's bones, children of hell!\"\n\nIn the ethics of Jesus chastity has a high place, yet he has few words\nabout it.  His is an exalted and ardent goodness, of which purity is an\nalmost silent element.  His effect is like that of a noble woman, whose\npresence is felt as an atmosphere.  When he speaks, his words set the\nhighest mark,--\"Be pure in _heart_.\"\n\nWe may contrast the scene between Jesus and Mary Magdalene with that\nbetween Socrates and the courtesan Theodota.  The philosopher is proof\nagainst allurement, and gives kindly advice, which clearly will have no\neffect; Jesus, without conscious effort, wakes a passion of repentance\nwhich transforms the life.  So again we may compare the check which\nEpictetus prescribes against undue tenderness, \"Say while you kiss your\nchild, he is mortal,\" with the habitual attitude of Jesus toward\nchildren,--taking them in his arms, and saying, \"Of such is the kingdom\nof heaven.\"  It is in such scenes as these--in his relations especially\nwith women and with children--that we best see the genius of the heart,\nthe newness which came into the world with Jesus.\n\nWhile dwelling in an inner realm of joy, he had the keenest sense of the\nsin and sorrow in men's lives.  \"He was filled with compassion for the\nmultitude, as sheep having no shepherd.\"  Their epilepsies,\nleprosies,--the hardness of heart, the insensibility to the higher\nlife,--these moved him with a great pity.  Scarcely save in little\nchildren did he see the heart-free joy, the natural freedom and\nhappiness, which was his own.  The hard-heartedness of the rich, the\nscorn of the self-righteous for the outcasts, moved his indignation.\nThus the holy happiness of his own life was mingled with a profound sense\nof the trouble of other lives.\n\nHis reading of the trouble was very simple: there were but two forces in\nthe world, moral good and evil, God and Satan, and God was shortly to\ngive an absolute triumph to the good.\n\nAmong the chief impressions he made was that of commanding power.  He\nmust have been full of healthy and majestic manhood.  Women and children\nwere attracted to him, as the weak are attracted by the strong.  In the\nstorm on the lake, his spirit so rose above the elemental rage--as if\nupborne with delight by the sublime scene--that his companions forgot\ntheir fears, and in the remembrance it appeared to them that the sea and\nwind grew calm at his word.  His strength seemed to impart itself to the\nweak, his health to the sick.  The stories of marvel which richly\nembroider the whole story are partly the halos of imagination investing a\npersonality which commanded, charmed, inspired.\n\nSometimes evil was considered the work of wicked spirits,--so especially\nin cases of lunacy.  Over some such cases Jesus had a peculiar power.  He\neven imparted this power to some of the disciples, who caught his\ninspiration.  The disciples, and probably Jesus, believed that this power\nextended to other sicknesses.  Of the uniformity of nature there is no\nrecognition in the New Testament.  Man's power over events is believed to\nbe measured by his spiritual nearness to God.  \"If ye have faith as a\ngrain of mustard seed,\" ye can cast mountains into the sea.\n\nWhen the soul exchanges its solitary communing for the actual world, it\nneeds to see manifested there the divinity it has felt.  Jesus found this\nmanifestation partly in his power through faith to do \"mighty works,\"\npartly in the expectation of the near coming of the Kingdom.\n\nThese in one sense typify the forms in which the religious soul always\nand everywhere finds the divine presence.  Man himself masters the forces\nof nature, and as he does so has the consciousness of some higher power\nworking through him.  And he looks for a better future for himself and\nfor mankind.\n\nBut the peculiarity of Jesus--looked at from a modern standpoint--was\nthat he combined the most ardent, pure, and tender feeling and conduct\nwith a simple belief that in the course of events only moral and\nspiritual forces are to be reckoned with; that man has power over nature\nin proportion to the purity and intensity of his trust in God; and that\nthe whole order of society is to be speedily transformed by a divine\ninterposition.  These ideas were inwrought in Jesus, and blended with his\nardor of goodness, his tenderness, his sense of a mission to seek and\nsave the lost.\n\nIn his teaching, God feeds and clothes his children as he feeds the birds\nand clothes the grass.  There is no need that they should be anxious\nabout their physical wants.  Their troubles will be banished if they will\npray in faith.  Disease, lunacy, all devilish evil, will vanish before\nthe presence of the trusting child of God.  All the injustice and wrong\nof the world are speedily to vanish through the direct intervention of\nGod.  It is the old anthropomorphic idea of God--the idea of the Prophet\nand Psalmist, wholly untouched by the questioning of Job; become tender,\nthrough the mellowing growth of centuries; sublimated in a heart of\nexquisite goodness and tenderness; and mixed with a visionary\ninterpretation of the world.\n\nWhat the ruling power of the universe will do he infers from the most\nattractive human analogy.  If even an unjust human judge yields to the\nimportunity of a petitioner, much more will the divine judge listen to\nthe cry of the wronged and suffering.  If a human father gives bread to\nhis children when they ask, much more will the divine father.\n\nWe are to remember that Jesus shared the inheritance, the education, and\nthe beliefs of the Galilean peasantry of his time.  The force in him\nwhich winnowed the ideas of his people, selecting and sublimating the\nhigher elements, was an exceptional moral and spiritual insight.  This\ninsight guided him far upward in truths of conduct and of emotional life.\nBut it could not suffice to disclose those broad facts as to the\nprocedure of the phenomena of nature which we call science.  To the Jew\nof the New Testament period,--to Paul as much as to the fishermen of\nGalilee,--the world was directly administered by a personal being who\nhabitually set aside for his own purposes the ordinary course of events.\nThe higher minds of the Greek-Roman world had reached a different\nconception.  Thinkers like Aristotle had assumed the constancy of nature\nas the basis of their teaching, poets like Lucretius had proclaimed it.\nBut the great mass of the Greek-Roman world still believed, as the entire\nJewish people believed, in the habitual intervention of some divine\npersonality.  What distinguished and dignified the Jewish belief was that\nit attributed all such interventions to a single deity who embodied the\nhighest moral perfection, instead of to a mixed multitude representing\nevil as well as good impulses.  All Jewish history was written on this\nhypothesis.  The only records of the past which Jesus knew were the Old\nTestament and its Apocrypha, in which each crisis of the nation or the\nindividual displayed the decisive interference of the heavenly power.\nThe occurrences which we name miracles were hardly distinguished by the\nJew as generically different from ordinary occurrences; they were only\nmore marked and special instances of God's working.  That a man\nespecially beloved of God for his goodness should be given power to heal\nthe blind and the lunatic seemed as natural as it was that his loving\ncompassion should win the outcast and his fiery rebuke appall the\nhypocrite.\n\nIt seems clear that Jesus, not less than his disciples, regarded his\npower over physical ills as just as truly an incident of his character\nand mission as was the power to inspire conduct and reclaim the erring.\nWhat differentiated him from them was that he held the physical marvels\nof far less relative account than they did.  Obscure as the detailed\nnarratives must remain to us, it seems unmistakable that he habitually\ndiscouraged all publicity and prominence for his works of healing.  His\nspiritual genius showed him that the stimulation of curiosity and\nexpectation in this direction diverted men from the principal business of\nlife, and the essential purport of his message,--to love, obey, and trust.\n\nThe point at which the idea of divine intervention most seriously\naffected his work seems to have been in his growing expectation of a\nspeedy consummation which should in a day establish on earth the kingdom\nof truth and righteousness.  His earlier teachings include striking\nutterances upon the gradual development of character in man, the slow\nripening of society, as in the parables of the leaven and the sower.\nHere he was on the firm ground of his own observation and consciousness.\nBut as the problem of his own mission pressed for an explicit solution;\nas the lofty passion of the idealist, the yearning tenderness of the\nlover of men, were thwarted and baffled by the prodigious inertia of\nhumanity,--so he was thrown back more and more on that promise of some\nswift catastrophic judgment and triumph which was the closing word of\nancient prophecy, and which seemed to answer the cry of his soul.\n\nThe later chapters of the synoptic Gospels are intensely colored with\nthis anticipation of a divine judgment close at hand.  The promise, the\nthreat, the tremendous imagery, were dear to the heart of the early\nchurch.  They fed the imagination of the mediaeval church.  But that\nmodern Christianity which finds in Christ the source and embodiment of\nall its own refined and exalted conceptions is inclined to look away from\nall this millennial prophecy; to weaken or ignore its significance, or to\nattribute it to the misconception of the disciples.  This modern\nChristianity fastens its attention on those teachings of purely spiritual\nand universal truth in which Jesus indeed spoke as never other man spoke.\nThis exclusive insistence on the ethical and spiritual element may\nsuffice for those to whom Christ is an ideal or a divinity.  But if we\nare to study the historical development of our religion, and not merely\nits present form, it seems necessary to recognize this belief in the\nJudgment and Advent as a very important factor in the story.\n\nUnless we attribute to his disciples and biographers a misunderstanding\nalmost inconceivable, he identified himself with the Son of Man whom the\nprophecy of Daniel and the popular belief expected to set up a divine\nkingdom on earth.  The whole story in the later chapters of the Gospels\nis pervaded by this idea.  The powerful imagery of a Day of Judgment, the\nsplendid promises and lurid threatenings, the specific incidents of\nteaching and event, the overstrained eagerness,--which will not suffer a\nson to wait to bury his father, or allow a fig-tree to refuse miraculous\nfruit,--all agree in the presentation of Jesus as absorbed with this\ntremendous expectation.\n\nThat he was on the whole so little unsteadied by this anticipation seems\ndue to his profound, sympathetic sense of the sad and sorrowful elements\nwhich somehow mingle with human destiny.  He was not thinking chiefly of\nhimself,--not even though he was to be God's vicegerent.  What filled his\nheart, was the destiny of men.  He wept over Jerusalem,--he mourned for\nthose who would go away into darkness.  The realities of human\nexperience, widened by sympathy, came close home to him.\n\nIt seems plain--so far as anything can be plain in the details of the\nstory--that as his mission went on his temper of a pure spiritual\nidealism changed into a controversy with the leaders of the established\nreligion.  He went to Jerusalem, foreseeing that the controversy would\nthere take an acute form, with the gravest issues.  At times the presage\nrose of his own defeat and death.  Suppose that were to happen?\nStill--so spoke his victorious faith--God's cause would triumph.  And it\nwould triumph speedily and visibly.  So he heartened his followers for\nany event.  \"Be prepared--you who are to me brothers and sisters and\nmother--be prepared even for my death.  All the same, my truth will\nvindicate itself, God will triumph, you shall be saved!\"\n\nJerusalem, it is plain, struck him much as Rome did Luther.  Gorgeous\nbuildings, splendid ceremonies, august authorities, and along with it a\nmass of greed, formality, worldliness.\n\nA solemn sense comes over him that this cannot endure.  The disciples\nchildishly marvel at the splendid Temple, but its gorgeousness strikes\nhim as earthly, sensuous, perishable, and he says, \"There shall not one\nstone be left upon another.\"\n\nHis indignation rises and seeks expression in some outward act which\nshall blaze upon the dull multitude the sense of their sinful state.  He\ngoes into the courts of the Temple, drives out the money-changers and\nmerchants, overthrows their tables, scatters all the apparatus of trade.\nThis is the turning-point in his career; he has given an effective handle\nagainst him to the formalists and bigots who already hated him, and they\nspeedily bring about his ruin.\n\nThe life of Jesus culminates in the scenes of the last night.  At the\nsupper, sure now of his impending fate, his willing self-devotion\nexpresses himself in that poetry of humble objects which was\ncharacteristic of him, and with passionate intensity.  \"This bread is my\nbody.\"  \"This wine is my blood.\"  \"I give myself for you.\"\n\nThe scene in Gethsemane shows the dismay and recoil of the hour when his\nardent faith met full the stern actuality.  God was not to interfere,\ndefeat and death were before him.  All was hidden, save a fate which rose\nupon his imagination in dark terror.  \"O my Father, if it be possible,\nlet this cup pass from me!\"  Then comes the victory of absolute\nself-surrender, \"Not my will, but thine, be done.\"\n\n\nThe birth-hour of the religion of Jesus was that in which he began to\ndeclare forgiveness to the outcast and good tidings to the poor.  But the\nbirth-hour of Christianity, as the worship of Jesus, was that in which\nMary Magdalene saw her master as risen and eternally living.\n\nThe impulse which caught up and gave wings to his work just when it\nseemed crushed came from the heart of Mary.  In a spiritual sense the\nmother of Christianity was a woman who had been a sinner, and was\nforgiven because she loved much.  The faith that sent the disciples forth\nto conquer the world was the faith that their Lord was not dead but\nliving, not a memory but a perpetual presence.  That conviction first\nflashed into the heart of Mary.  It was born of a love stronger than\ndeath, the love of a rescued soul for its savior.  It sprang up in a mind\nsimple as a child's, incapable of distinguishing between what it felt and\nwhat it saw, between its own yearning or instinct and the actualities of\nthe outward world.  It took bodily form under a glow of exaltation that\nknew not itself, whether in the body or out of the body.  It crystallized\ninstantly into a story of outward fact.  It communicated itself by\nsympathetic intensity to other loving and credulous hearts.  They too saw\nthe heavenly vision.  Its acceptance as a reality became the corner-stone\nof the new society.  About it grew up, in ever increasing fullness and\ndefiniteness of outline, a whole supernal world of celestial\npersonalities.  But the initial fact was the heart's conviction--Jesus\nlives!  Our friend and master is not in the grave, nor in the cold\nunderworld; he is the child of the living God, and he draws us toward him\nin that divine and eternal life.\n\nTo get some partial comprehension of how the belief in Jesus'\nresurrection took possession of the disciples' minds, we are to remember\nthat during the last months of their master's life he was in a state of\ntense, high-wrought expectation, which communicated itself to them.\nSomething wonderful was just about to happen.  There was to be a sudden\nand amazing manifestation of divine power, by which the kingdom of God\nwas to triumph and thenceforth to reign.  But the way to this\nconsummation might lead through the valley of the shadow of death.  In\nthe soul of Jesus a sublime hope and a dark presage alternated and\nmingled.  It is not to be supposed that he held a definite and unchanging\nconception.  Cloud-shadows and sunbursts played by turns across him, with\nthe intensity natural to a soul of vast emotions.  Constant through it\nall was the fixed purpose to be true to his mission, and with victorious\nrecurrence came his confidence in the divine issue.  His sympathetic\ndisciples were vaguely, profoundly stirred by this elemental struggle and\nvictory.  They too became intensely expectant of some great catastrophe\nand triumph.  After the first shock of the Master's death, all this\nemotion surged up in them afresh, with their love heightened as death\nalways heightens love, with the fresh and vivid memories of their leader\nsweeping them on in the current of his purpose and hope and faith.  His\nwords were true,--he must, he will, conquer and reign.  If he has gone to\nthe underworld, he will live again.  \"Will,\"--nay, is he not here with us\nnow?  Is he not more real to our thought and love than ever before?  And\nfirst in one mind, then in another, the conviction flashes into bodily\nimage.  Mary has seen the Master!  Peter has seen him!  And for a little\ntime--for \"forty days\"--the electric air seems often to body forth that\nluminous shape.  The story, as it grew with years, took on one detail\nafter another, became definite and coherent, was accepted as the charter\nand foundation of the little society.\n\nTo rightly understand the faith of the disciples in the risen Christ, we\nmust look below the stories of sense-appearance in which that faith\nclothed itself.  What they essentially felt--what distinguished their\nfaith from a mere opinion or dogma--was not a mere expectation, \"The dead\n_will_ rise;\" not a mere fact of history, \"Some one _did_ rise;\" it was\nthe conviction and consciousness, \"Our friend _is living_.\"  It was an\nexperience--including and transcending memory and hope--of present love,\npresent communion, present life.\n\nSight and speech lent their forms to clothe the ineffable experience of\nMary and the disciples.  For us, the story of outward events--the visible\nform, the eating of bread and fish, the conversations, the floating up\ninto the clouds--all this fades away as a mirage.  The reality below this\nsymbol--the sense of the human friend's continued and higher life--this\nabides and renews itself; not as an isolated historic fact, but as an\ninstance and counterpart of the message which in every age comes to the\nbereaved heart--of a love greater than loss, a life in which death is\nswallowed up.\n\nThe religion of the followers of Jesus became a centring of every\naffection, obligation, and hope, in him.\n\nFor the first few years all this was merged in the eager expectation of\nhis return.  While this lasted in its fullness, even memory was far less\nto them than hope.  They did not attempt any complete records of his\nearthly life,--what need of that, when the life was so soon to be\nresumed?  The bride on the eve of her marriage is not reading her old\nlove-letters,--she is looking to the morrow.\n\nThat first eager flush had already passed when the earliest gospels were\nwritten.  By that time hope had begun to prop its wavering confidence, by\nlooks turned back even to a remote past.  Hence the constant appeals to\nthe supposed predictions of the Old Testament; hence even the imagining\nof special events in the life of Jesus to fulfill those predictions.\n\nThe Old Testament as conceived by the writers of the New is fantastically\nunlike the original writings.  The Evangelists found Messianic prophecies\neverywhere.  The writers of the Epistles, Paul and the rest, dealt with\nceremonies and histories as a quarry out of which to hew whatever\nallegory or argument suited their purpose.\n\nIn Luke's Gospel we first see fully displayed the idea of Christ which\ntook possession of the common mind, and has largely held it ever\nsince,--a personal Savior,--a gracious, merciful, all-powerful deliverer.\nIt is a gospel of the imagination and the heart--inspired by the actual\nJesus, but half-created by ardent, adoring imagination.\n\nThis conception grew up side by side with Paul's.  It is far closer to\nthe popular mind and heart than Paul's idea,--his was philosophic and\nmetaphysic; this is pictorial.  Paul has been studied by theologians, but\nthe Gospels have given the Christ of the common people.\n\nThe early church was divided into two parties, of which one was led by\nPaul, who stood for the free inclusion of all who would accept Jesus as\nthe Messiah, and would impose no further requirement of ceremony or\ndogma, trusting all to the guidance of \"the Spirit\"--the Spirit of which\nthe sufficient fruit and evidence was \"love, joy, peace, long-suffering,\ngentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.\"  The other party, led\nby disciples who had known and followed Jesus himself, maintained that\nthe entire Jewish law was still in force, and treated Paul as a dangerous\nheretic.  To narrate the struggle and the final reconcilement is beyond\nthe purpose of this book, but we must pause a moment on the figure of\nPaul.\n\nIt marks the extraordinary force and vividness of Paul's character, that\nin a few pages of letters, in which the autobiography is only brief and\nincidental, he has so displayed himself that few historical characters\nare more familiar.\n\nWe see him,--deep-hearted, vehement, irascible, tender, self-assertive;\nintensely bent on the higher life; thwarted in that aspiration by unruly\npassion,--lust of the flesh and pride of the spirit; stumbling,\nstammering, conquering; a nature full of internal conflict, brought into\nharmony by one sublime spiritual affection; thenceforth throwing its\nwhole energy into the diffusion of a like harmony throughout this world\nof troubled conflict.\n\nWe see a mind guided in its deepest workings by the realities of personal\nexperience, but wholly untrained in logic, unversed in accurate\nknowledge; acquainted with history only through the Old Testament;\nignorant of the philosophy of Greece; taught by intimate association with\nmany men and women in their deepest personal experiences; familiar by\ntravel and observation with the broad life of the time, and judging it\nfrom a lofty ethical standpoint; wholly credulous as to miracle; wholly\nconfident in its own theories--theories gendered in the strangest wedding\nof fact and fancy; using constantly the form of argument, which often is\npure fantasy; illumined by gleams of spiritual insight, which sometimes\nbroaden into pure radiance; striving always to express the conscious fact\nof a great freedom of the soul which binds it fast to all duty; aiming at\na human society dominated wholly and solely by the same spiritual\nprinciple; but often clothing both the personal and social ideal in forms\nof thought which have become obsolete, so that for us to-day his truth\nhas to be stated in other language, and broadened by other truths.\n\nWhere Paul has always touched men closest is in the earnestness and\ndifficulty of his struggle for the good life, and in the sense of a\ncelestial aid,--he calls it \"the love of Christ,\"--which somehow brings\nhabitual victory in the conflict, and sheds peace in its pauses, and\ngives assurance of ultimate triumph and perfect fruition.\n\nThe main theme for which Paul contends in most of his epistles was vital\nto the life of the early church,--that its members were not to be held to\nobservance of the Jewish ritual.  In support of that theme, Paul develops\nhis philosophy of the universe.  The main lines of that philosophy are\nessentially these: that when God had created man, man's sin incurred the\npenalty of death; that God chose the Jews as his peculiar people, and\ngave them the code of laws contained in the books of Moses; that the law\nwas too difficult for weak human nature to perfectly obey, so that death\nstill reigned on earth, with dire penalty impending in the afterworld;\nthat God then had recourse to another plan.  He sent his Son into the\nworld, who became a man, taking on him that fleshly nature which is the\noccasion and the symbol of human transgression, but which he wore in\nperfect holiness.  God then caused this fleshly nature of Jesus to die\nupon the cross, while the spiritual nature outlived the perishing body,\nappeared in radiant form to men, and returned to the eternal realm.  By\nthis visible sign God made proclamation to mankind, \"Die unto sin by\nforsaking sin, and I will give you holiness which issues in eternal life.\nThe death and resurrection of my son, Jesus Christ, are the token and\npromise of my free gift, which only asks your acceptance.  Accept it, by\nturning from sin, and you shall receive the sense of companionship with\nChrist, and the consciousness of a divine power working in you and in the\nworld.  Of set laws you have no longer need; rites and ceremonies were\nbut the type of the reality which now is freely given to you.  Your sole\nobligation is to love; your fidelity to that shall constantly merge in\nthe sense of joyful freedom; the imperfect attainment of earth shall\nissue into the eternal felicity of heaven.\"\n\nIn such language we try to restate Paul's philosophy.  Thus, or somewhat\nthus, he thought.  Just how he thought we can never be sure, nor does it\nmatter.  The mould of his belief was so different from ours that all\nwhich closely concerns us is to discern if we can what was the kernel of\ngenuine experience, the permanent reality and truth, which vivified this\nworld-scheme.\n\nIn Paul before his conversion we see the man who struggles to conform to\na standard of conduct so high, exacting, and minute, that it touches\nevery particular of life, and who yet is beset by a constant sense of\nfailure and disappointment.  From this slough of despond he is\nlifted--how?  By the sense of a love which extends to him from the unseen\nworld.  It takes form to him as the personal love of one who has lived,\nhas died, and in some inexpressible way still lives.  This friendship in\nthe unseen world is the sufficient, the absolute pledge of a God who\nloves and saves.  No matter what be the theory about it, of incarnation\nor atonement, here is the reality as it comes home: the man Jesus,\nhighest, noblest, dearest, makes himself real and present to me, though\nlong ago he died and was laid in the grave.  This one fact carries answer\nenough for all the craving of heart and soul.  That I shall at last\ntriumph over all besetting evils, that the ruler of the universe is my\nfriend, that earth is the vestibule of heaven,--all this I can joyfully\nbelieve when once I have the sense of that single human friend still\nbefriending me in the unseen world.\n\nThis was what the risen Christ meant to the early church.  This was the\ncommon belief that bound its two parties, the Jewish and the Pauline\nChristians, at last into one.  This was what gave the full meaning to all\nthe stories of Jesus told over and over and at last written down.  This\nwas what fired the common heart of mankind as not the wisdom of Plato nor\nthe nobility of Epictetus had touched it.\n\nPaul's experience is the more remarkable because he had never even seen\nJesus in the flesh.  He had borne in a sense a personal relation to him,\nin the fact that he had hated and persecuted his followers.  The\nconviction that he had been in the wrong came to him with a tremendous\nrevulsion of feeling.  The poignancy of remorse was followed by an\nexquisite sense of forgiveness, which shed its depth and tenderness on\nhis whole after-life.  In him we first see the power of the personality\nof Jesus to touch those who never had seen him.\n\nAt such points we feel how shallow is the plummet-line with which our\nso-called psychology measures the \"soul\" it deals with.  The influence,\nthe presence, the living love, of one who has died,--how paradoxical, how\nunintelligible, to our human science; how significant to our human\nexperience!\n\nWhat concerns us historically as to Paul is that he was the conspicuous\nagent in transforming this sentiment into a moral force.  The belief that\nJesus was risen had great emotional power, but that emotion might easily\nwaste itself, might even undermine the solid foundations of character.\nPaul held the belief in its literal form, but it had for him a further\nsignificance, as the symbol and type of the soul's experience in its\nevery-day walk.  The death we are most concerned about is the extinction\nof evil act and desire.  Life--the only life worth thinking of, here or\nhereafter--is lofty, pure, and tender life.  Die to sin, live to\nholiness, and present or future is safe with God.\n\nPaul's theology is in one sense a passage in a long chapter of\npseudo-science.  It is one of a series of attempts to explain the\nuniverse from a starting-point of fable.  These have been the\naccompaniment--sometimes as help, sometimes as obstacle--of a spiritual\nlife far deeper than the stammering language they found.  And it is to be\nnoted that Paul himself when at his best rises above his theology or\nforgets it.  The words of his which have lodged deepest in the world's\nheart are the vital precepts of conduct, and the utterances of love and\nhope.  In one matchless passage, he celebrates \"charity\"--simple human\nlove--as the one sufficient, supreme, and eternal good.\n\nSome misconceptions in his philosophy became the fruitful seeds of\nmischievous harvests.  One such seed was the ambiguous sense of\n\"faith\"--the confusing of intellectual credence with moral fidelity.\nThis misconception--which underlies much of the New Testament--was an\nalmost inevitable incident of a religion generated as this was.\nChristianity based itself, in its own theory, on the bodily resurrection\nof Jesus from the dead.  This was offered as a basis for the whole appeal\nwhich the church made to the world.  Thus Belief--or Credulity--usurped\nthe place among the virtues which of right belongs to Truth.\n\nAnother misconception lay in the use of \"flesh,\" the antithesis of\n\"spirit,\" as the name of the evil principle.  Paul indeed uses \"the\nflesh\" in no restricted sense of merely sensual sin.  With him it equally\nincludes all other forms of wrong, like malevolence and pride and\nself-seeking.  But the nomenclature and the way of thought which it\nreflected put a stigma on the whole physical nature of man.  In that\nstigma lay the germ of asceticism, hostility to marriage, depreciation of\nsome vital elements of man's nature.\n\nPaul's conception of the church never was fully realized.  He expected to\nsee the whole body of believers filled with a \"holy spirit,\" a\ndivine-human inspiration, which should of itself guide them into all\ntruth and duty.  Outward law or doctrine there needed none, beyond the\nacceptance of Christ as God's son who had lived and died and risen.\nAccept that, and the divine spirit would be given you.  No need then of\ncircumcision or sacrifice, of Sabbath or fast, of written code or human\nruler.  The saint is free from all law but that of love; the company of\nsaints needs no control or guidance but that.\n\nThe beautiful ideal shattered itself against a stubborn fact.  Love of\nChrist did not guide his followers into all truth, or into harmony with\neach other.  Paul's life was half spent in a bitter contest with men who\nloved Christ as well as he did.  His epistles are full of the struggle\nwith that great party of Christ's followers who called him a heretic and\nsought to win away his converts.  Suppose any one had asked him: \"You say\nthe spirit of Christ will guide his followers into all truth,--why does\nit not guide these Christian Jews and you into so much of truth as will\nmake you friends instead of foes?\"\n\nPaul was hoping too much.  The new impulse in the world--sublime,\nbeautiful, full of power and promise--was by no means sufficient to lead\nthe world straight and sure to harmonious perfection.  There was no such\ngift of \"the spirit\" as to supersede all search, all struggle, all human\nleadership and human groping.  That hope was almost as exaggerated as the\nexpectation--with which in Paul's mind it mingled--of Christ's bodily\nreturn.  The road to be traveled by mankind was still long and arduous.\n\n\nAny complete history of the early church must deal largely with the\nstubborn and bitter contest between the Jewish and Pauline parties,--the\nchampions of the law and the champions of liberty.  That contest gave its\nstamp to the epistles of Paul, and was indeed their most frequent\noccasion.  At a later time the attempt to harmonize the two parties seems\nto have given birth to the book of Acts, in which history mixes with\nfiction.  But we are here concerned only with such features of the\nhistory as made the most vital and permanent contributions to religion,\nand for this purpose we need only specify the Epistle to the Ephesians.\n\nThis epistle opens the heart of the early church.  It assumes to be\nwritten by Paul, but there are some indications that this name was\nborrowed by the real author.  This assumption of a great name, so common\nin this age, as in the books of Daniel, Wisdom of Solomon, Enoch, and\nothers, marks a timidity, a deference to authority of the past.  Only the\ngreatest, like Jesus and Paul, dared to speak in their own name.\n\nPrimarily the epistle is a plea for unity between Jewish and Gentile\nChristians,--broadening into an appeal for unity between all classes and\nindividuals, an appeal for purity and holiness, in the name of Christ the\nhead.  Occasional sentences and phrases will sufficiently show its tenor\nand spirit.\n\n\"That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith, that ye, being rooted and\ngrounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the\nbreadth and length and depth and height, and to know the love of Christ,\nwhich passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fullness of\nGod.\"\n\n\"There is one body and one spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of\nyour calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all\nwho is above all and through all and in you all.\"  \"Endeavoring to keep\nthe unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.\"\n\nEach has his appointed place, some as apostles, some as prophets, some\nfor humbler service,--for \"the building up of the body of Christ,\" \"till\nwe all come into the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son\nof God unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the\nfullness of Christ.\"\n\n\"Putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbor, for we are\nmembers one of another.\"  \"Let him that stole steal no more, but rather\nlet him labor, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he\nmay have to give to him that needeth.\"\n\nThe note of purity is far higher than in Stoic or Platonist.  Uncleanness\nis spurned with the horror which pure love and holiness inspire.\n\n\"Fornication, and all uncleanness or covetousness, let it not be once\nnamed among you, as becometh saints.  Neither filthiness, nor foolish\ntalking, nor jesting, which are not becoming, but rather giving of\nthanks.  For this ye know, that no whoremonger nor unclean person nor\ncovetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of\nChrist and of God.  Let no man deceive you with vain words, for because\nof these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of\ndisobedience.\"  \"Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess, but be filled\nwith the spirit.\"\n\nThere is a tender exhortation to husband and wife, based on the likeness\nof their union to Christ and his church.  There is a special word to\nchildren, servants, masters.  The sweetness is matched by the strength.\n\"Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his\nmight.\"\n\nThe epistle is full of the spirit of a present heaven.  There is scarcely\nany thought of the future, no reference to the second coming, no dwelling\non the hereafter.  It is all-sufficient, all-uniting love,--Christ, a\nspiritual presence, as the head--God the Father of all.  The love of\nChrist is a pure spiritual passion.  There is no theorizing about him,\nnot even much personal distinctness,--only the consciousness as of some\ncelestial personality.  The seen and unseen worlds seem to blend in a\ncommon atmosphere.\n\nEven as an ideal, this transcends the philosophy of Epictetus, and\noutshines the vision of Plato.  As one of the charter documents of a\nsociety which had come into an actual existence,--as the aim toward which\nthousands of men and women were struggling, however imperfectly,--it\nmarks the coming of a new life into the world.\n\n\nThe Pauline idea of Christ is shown as it worked itself out in the brain\nand heart of Paul himself.  In the Fourth Gospel we have, not the\nexperience of an individual, but an idealized portrait of the Master.\n\nThe germ may have lain in some genuine tradition of his words, as they\nwere caught and treasured by some disciple more susceptible than the rest\nto the mystical and contemplative element in Jesus.  These words, handed\ndown through congenial spirits, and deeply brooded; these ideas caught by\nminds schooled in the blending of Hebraic with Platonic thought,--minds\naccustomed to rely on the contemplative imagination as the discloser of\nabsolute truth; the waning of the hope of Messiah's return in the clouds;\nthe growth in its place of a personal and interior communion with the\ndivine beauty and glory as imaged in Jesus; a temper almost indifferent\nto outward event, too full of present emotion to strain anxiously toward\na future, yet confident of a transcendent future in due season; an\nassumption that in this belief lay the sole good and hope of humanity,\nand that the rejection of this was an impulse of the evil principle\nwarring against God; the crystallization of these memories, hopes, and\nbeliefs into a dramatic portraiture of acts and words appropriate to\nChrist as so conceived; a temper in which a portraiture so inspired was\nidentified with actual and absolute truth--some such genesis we may\nsuppose for the Gospel which bears the name of John.\n\nThe writer shows no such close contact with the actual struggle of life\nas vivifies the other biographies of Jesus and the impassioned pleadings\nof Paul.  He is a pure and lofty soul, but he writes as if in seclusion\nfrom the world.  His favorite words are abstract and general.  The\nparable and precept of the early gospels give place to polemic and\nmetaphysic disquisition.  The Christian communities for which he writes\nhave left behind them the sharp antagonisms of the first generation, and\nhave drawn together into a harmonious society, strong in their mutual\naffection, their inspiring faith, and their rule of life, and facing\ntogether the cruelty of the persecutor and the scorn of the philosopher.\nTo this writer, all who are outside of the Christian fold and the\nChristian belief seem leagued together by the power of evil.  The secret\nof their perversity and the seal of their doom is unbelief.  Let them\naccept the Christ he portrays, and good shall supplant evil in their\nhearts.  The ground of the acceptance is to be simply the self-evident\nbeauty and therefore the self-evident truth of the Christ here set forth.\n\nAnd so we have a portrayal of Christ which at many points profoundly\nappeals to the heart, yet which constantly dissipates into a metaphysical\nmythology; together with the admonition that only a full belief can save\nthe soul and the world from ruin.  The ethical and emotional elements of\nthe new religion have thoroughly fused with the elements of dogma and\nexclusiveness.\n\nA kind of self-exaltation is by this writer imputed to Jesus, which is as\nmuch less attractive than his attitude in the Synoptics as it is less\ngenuine.  \"All that ever came before me are thieves and robbers\"--this is\nthe word of an idolatrous worshiper; far different from him whose only\nsense of superiority was expressed in a longing to impart his own\ntreasure: \"Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will\ngive you rest.\"\n\nBut the writer rises to a lofty plane where he conceives the parting\nwords of Jesus to his friends.  Here he is on the ground of what we know\ndid in some wise really happen--a last interview between the Master and\nhis disciples, when clouds of defeat and death lowered close before him,\nand his words deepened in their hearts the devotion which animated all\ntheir after-lives.  That parting scene, preserved elsewhere in\ndelineations brief and impressive, was now expanded by the brooding,\ncreative thought of some one in closest sympathy with the occasion and\nwith the vital impulse it had given.  Literal and historical fidelity the\ndescription may lack, but it is in close accord with the realities of\nexperience.  The tender assurances, the prophecies beyond hope, which the\nMaster is here supposed to speak, had indeed been fulfilled.  The loss of\nhis earthly presence had been more than made good to those in whose lives\nhe had been felt as a saving power.  The Comforter had truly come.  The\nmutual love of the disciples, and their loyalty to the Master as they\nunderstood him, had planted a new social force in the world, and was\nworking slowly to transform the world.  Thoughts which had been the\npossession of philosophers in the schools were become working forces in\nthe lives of common men and women and children.  That deliverance from\nthe fear of death which thinkers had vainly sought had been won even by\nthe poor and lowly.  All this and more was set forth as in a psalm or\nprophecy, in the parting words ascribed to Christ.\n\n\"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you, not as the world\ngiveth give I unto you.\"  \"Ye shall see me again, and your hearts shall\nrejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.\"\n\n\nThe predominant notes of the New Testament are tenderness and ardor, but\ninwrought with these is a vein of terror and sometimes of fierce wrath.\nIt is like the denunciation in the Old Testament, to which the vision of\na future world has added a more lurid hue.  \"Asia's rancor\" has not\ndisappeared, even in the presence of \"Bethlehem's heart.\"  Among the\nwords attributed to Jesus are the threat of that perdition where the worm\ndieth not and the fire is not quenched.  To him is ascribed (whether\ntruly or not) the story of Dives in hell, and father Abraham in whose\nbosom Lazarus is reposing denies even his prayer for a drop of water to\ncool his tongue.  Here is the germ of all the horrors of the mediaeval\nimagination.  The germs bore an early fruitage in that book which bears\nthe name of \"Revelation.\"  It mirrors the passions which spring up amid\nthe heats of faction and of persecution.  Fell hatred fills its pages for\nthe persecutor and for the heretic.  The few gleams of Paradise for the\nsaved are pale in comparison with the ghastly terrors.  It is the first\nfull outbreak of that disease of the imagination, bred of disease of the\nheart, which was to be the curse of Christianity.\n\n\nWe have dwelt upon the central facts and ideas in which Christianity took\nits rise.  We shall pass with a few brief glances over a tract of many\ncenturies.  Our special concern in this work is with the birth-periods of\nthe vital and lasting principles of man's higher life.  One such phase\nwas the Greek-Roman philosophy of which the best outcome was Stoicism.\nAnother critical era was the birth of Christianity from its immediate\nlineage of Judaism.  The next great epoch is the marriage of rational\nknowledge with the spiritual life--which is the story of these last\ncenturies, in mid-action of which we are standing.\n\nViewing man's higher life upon its intellectual side, the common\ncharacteristic of the period between the time of the Apostles and our\nimmediate forefathers is the prevalence of what may be called the\nChristian mythology.  In other words, the moral rules and spiritual\nideals were almost inextricably bound up with and based upon the\nconception of a supernatural world, certainly and definitely known, and\ndisclosed to mankind through a series of revelations which centred in the\nincarnation of God in the man Jesus Christ.  Upon this basis was reared a\nvast intellectual and imaginative structure--embodied in many creeds,\npictured in visions of Dante and Milton and Bunyan, enforced by\nmultitudinous appeals to emotion and reason, to love, hope, and terror.\n\nIt is the dissolving of this elaborate supernaturalism, and the growth of\na different conception of the spiritual life, which is now going on\nbefore our eyes.  To measure the essential significance of the change, we\nneed not linger long upon the successive steps by which the mythology\nexpanded and solidified itself.  We have seen its germs in the story of\nJudaism, of Jesus and his immediate successors.  The method and nature of\nits growth may be briefly indicated.\n\nWe are following only a single thread in the vast web of history.  All\nthe threads work in together, but we must be well content if we can trace\nthe general line of one or two.  It is the history of the moral ideas\nwhich have most directly and closely influenced the life of men, that we\nare trying to pursue.  There was a wonderful embodiment and outshining of\nsuch ideas in the life and teaching of Jesus of Nazareth.  The truth he\ntaught and lived was in some ways made more applicable and transmissible\nby his followers, and in some ways lowered.  There grew up the society of\nthe Christian church.  Gradually it took its place among the important\nforces of the Roman empire.  It won at last the nominal allegiance of the\ncivilized world.  Aiding or thwarting it, coloring and changing it, were\na thousand influences,--side-currents from other religions and\nphilosophies, social changes, Roman law and tradition, the new life of\nthe barbarians; old ingrained habits of blood and brain; the constant\npush of primal instincts--hunger and sex; tides of war and trade and\nindustry; slavery and serfdom; strong human personalities, swaying a\nlittle the tide that bore them; all the myriad forces that are always at\nwork in history.\n\nOne can scarcely pass by a leap of thought from the age of Paul to the\nage of Dante without an instant's glance at the intervening tract.  There\nare the early Christian communities, bound together by tender ties of\nbrotherhood; storms of persecution fanning high the flame of courage and\nfaith; a new purity and sweetness of domestic life spreading itself like\nthe coming of the dawn.  There are wild vagaries of the mind, taking\nshape in fantastic heresies.  There is the degeneracy of a faith held in\npureness and peril into a popular and fashionable religion.  There are\nenthroned monsters like Nero and Commodus; \"Christian\" emperors, like\nConstantine, ambitious, crafty, and blood-guilty; and noble \"heathen\"\nemperors like Trajan and Aurelius.  There is the peace of the Empire in\nits best days, with some wide diffusion of prosperity and content.  There\nare incursions of barbarians--the strange, little-known life of nomadic\ntribes--with pristine virtues of valor and chastity, half-pictured,\nhalf-imagined, by Tacitus.  There is conquest, rapine, subjugation,\nsuffering.  There are ages in which violence is master, and in the\ndisordered struggle of the violent among themselves the weak are trampled\nunder foot.  There are scenes of humble happiness and content, the toiler\nin the fields, the family about the hearth-stone, which scarcely are seen\nby the chronicler busy with kings and popes.  There are superstitions and\nmummeries; wild fears of spectres and devils; sentimental piety handed\nwith cruelty and debauchery.  There are inward struggles, sorrows,\nachievements; rapturous glimpses, tender consolations; the ministry of\nfaithful priests; the comforting of women and the purifying of men by the\nthought of the Virgin Mother and the saints.  There are civilizers in\nstate and church,--Alfred, Charlemagne, Hildebrand.  There is the\nemergence of a social and ecclesiastical order; the ranking of kings,\nbarons, and vassals; of priests, bishops, and popes; the establishment of\nlaws and charters; the growth of liturgies and cathedrals.\n\nThe contrast is great between the simplicity of a high moral ideal, like\nthat of Jesus or Paul, which claims, and with such show of reason and\nright, the whole allegiance of man, and the vast complexity of good and\nevil in which the ideal works only as one obscure and partial element.\nHow simple, how clear, how sweetly inviting sounds the call,--how strange\nand discordant the response!\n\nThat inconsistency was explained by the church fathers, like Augustine,\nas due to the inherent badness of human nature.  That universal badness\nflowed from one sin of the common ancestor.  That sin was induced by the\nmachinations of Satan, arch-enemy of God, and practically dividing the\nrule of the universe with him.  A logical and symmetrical explanation in\nits day, but it no longer explains.\n\nNeither does it explain, but it may profit, if the wondering inquirer\nturns his thoughts for a moment on his personal history.  He has had his\nhours of clear vision and high resolve,--why have they borne such poor\nfruit in his actual life?  His own riddle is one with the riddle of\nhistory.\n\nAgain we may say, with no pretense of probing the mystery in its depths,\nbut as gaining a touch of side-light, it is plain that what we look at as\nthe strictly moral forces of mankind--the clear thinking, the definite\npurpose, the pure aspiration--must be reckoned with as only a part of the\nvolume of force that carries along the individual and the race.  Other\nelements of that force are the physical needs; the push and play of\npassions ingrained in human nature; the inherited bias; the strength of\nhabits formed before childhood had begun to reflect,--the thousand forces\nwhich blend with reason and choice to make up our destiny.  Man's noblest\naim is to make reason and purpose the rulers in his little republic, but\nat the best those rulers must deal with a set of very vigorous and often\nmutinous subjects.\n\nLet us not at least wonder, though for the moment we sigh, that neither\ndid the kingdom of God at once establish itself on earth, as Jesus hoped,\nnor did the Spirit guide mankind by a brief and sure path into full\nfelicity and holiness, as Paul hoped.\n\nThe disappointment is a blank contradiction only for those who assume a\nsuperhuman revelation in Scripture or in church, and then have to\nreconcile this infallibility with that most fallible groping by which\nalone mankind gets along.  Unembarrassed at least by that difficulty, let\nus note one natural cause of the imperfect progress of Christianity,\nnamely, the substitution of fancy for clear and sound knowledge of nature\nand man, which was inwrought from the beginning in its creed.\n\nWe may recall the piercing question of Socrates, \"Can virtue be taught?\"\nCan the best life be so clearly shown and so skillfully inculcated, that\nit may be transmitted from man to man and from generation to generation\nas surely and safely as the knowledge of a mechanical art or a physical\nscience?  Socrates owned that he knew of no such way to teach\nvirtue,--that while Pericles could teach his son to be a good horseman,\nhe could not so guide him but that he became a bad man,--and Socrates\nhimself found no sure way to guide men into the heroic path he walked\nhimself.\n\nNow Christianity offered a sort of knowledge as the proper training to\nproduce virtue.  Its knowledge included certain genuine and precious\nelements, such as the essential blessedness of purity and love; the trust\nand peace which flow from duty done; the hope which springs from the\ngrave of a holy man;--ideas not new in substance, but wonderfully\nvivified and vitalized.  But along with this genuine knowledge,\nChristianity blended in ever-growing volume a pseudo-knowledge.  It had a\nprofessed explanation of the nature of Deity, the nature of humanity, and\ntheir mutual relation, which was so unreal that when applied to the\nconduct of human life its fruit was often as ashes and the east wind.\n\nTo sum up the method by which Christianity wrought: its vital ideas of\ncharacter were infolded in a triple crust of Authority, Ceremony, Dogma.\nIts ideas could scarcely have been propagated except under some such\nincrustation.  Pure gold must be mixed with alloy before it can be\nworked.  The new society would have quickly dissolved into chaos if it\nhad not had established laws and usages and discipline and rulers.  The\ncraving of the average man for definite symbols fastened eagerly on the\ncleansing water of baptism and the bread and wine of the love-feast.  The\nthoughtful mind must needs seek to assign to the Master his true place\nand relation as between God and man.  Here were the germs of hierarchy,\nceremonial, and dogma.  Internal order, self-protection against\npersecuting emperors and then against barbarian invaders, led to a\ngradual strengthening and perfecting of the organization.  The craving\nfor intellectual consistency and symmetry urged on the elaboration of the\ncreed.\n\nThat development of the Christian creed,--in one view, how natural and\ninevitable a process; yet what enormous waste of intellect, what\ndiversion from sound inquiry!  The original hypothesis being pure fancy,\nall the ingenious deductions are mere excursions into cloudland.\n\nWe need not follow in any detail these speculations.  A certain purity\nand loftiness marks their early stages, in which the Greek theologians\nwere occupied in blending a sort of Platonic theory of deity with the\nhistoric fact of a noble human personality.  With the emergence of the\nchurch from persecution to power, we see that the intellectual degeneracy\nhas set in along with the moral.  The first great council, that of\nNicaea, occupied itself in settling by a majority of votes whether Christ\nwas of _like_ substance with the Father or of the _same_ substance with\nthe Father.  The assertion of his full equality was in due time followed\nby a similar definition of the personality and equality of the Holy\nSpirit, with the full doctrine of the Trinity; the double nature of\nChrist; the rank of the Virgin Mary.  The authoritative interpretation of\nhuman nature had its source in the personal experience and later\ntheorizing of Augustine.  Himself emergent after long struggles from the\ntyranny of evil desire, by a transcendent experience in which he saw the\nhand of God,--he in effect generalized from this to the inherent and\nutter depravity of all mankind, and its entire dependence on a divine\ngrace which might with equal justice be given or withheld.  The lurid\nhell which had always shared with a radiant heaven the imagination of the\nchurch took from Augustine a grimmer horror: in the fearful thought of\nmen, its foundations were now deep sunk in eternal justice, man being\nhimself from birth a wretch so abominable that hell was his natural\ndestiny, save as mercy might by inscrutable selection deliver some\nportion of mankind.\n\nLater ages brought their own problems.  What was the nature of the\natonement,--a compact between God and the Devil, by which Christ was made\na ransom for man, the Devil being unexpectedly cheated of his pay?  Or\nwas Christ's death simply the transfer of a debt on the books of divine\njustice?  The sacraments, again, what was their precise nature?  And so\nthe scheme was worked out in all its details.\n\nThe triune God, Father, Son, and Spirit; a hierarchy of angels; the\ncreation of man, his seduction by a revolted and fallen angel, and the\nexposure of his entire posterity to the just retribution of everlasting\nmisery; an arrangement between the persons of the Trinity by which the\nincarnation and death of the Son became a ransom for mankind; the\nestablishment by Christ of a visible church, divinely guided to reveal to\nmen the truth, and impart to them the divine grace; the offer of\nsalvation upon condition of faith, repentance, and obedience; sacraments\nwhich were channels of divine grace; an endless heaven of bliss for the\nsubmissive and obedient, an endless hell of torment for the negligent or\nrebellious,--this was the universe as it existed to the belief and\nimagination of the Christian world for many centuries.\n\nThus Christianity, instead of following a true inquiry into the facts of\nthe moral life,--in place of cultivating that sound knowledge of man in\nwhich Socrates led the way, or that knowledge of the natural world in\nwhich Aristotle and the Greek physicists had wrought,--instead of such\nstudy, the church based its ideals, its appeals, its helps, on a purely\nfanciful interpretation of the universe.  Its refined and ingenious\nspeculations were wasted upon a fantasy.\n\nThis want of sound knowledge has for us here a twofold significance.  It\npoints to one cause of the imperfect success of the ideals of Jesus and\nof Paul.  And by its defect it points us forward to a fulfillment, when\nat a later age Virtue and Knowledge should be wed.\n\n\nBut we need to distinguish and to reverence the deep utterances of the\nhuman heart which spoke with stammering tongue in these crude symbols.\n\nThe Catholic church was a second Roman empire in its extent and power,\nand with an inspiration loftier than that of the empire.  For, judged by\nwhat was most essential to it, the Catholic church--human to the core,\nhuman in its errors and sins, human in its upward striving--was, at its\nbest, a society for disciplining men in the higher life.  And that creed\nwhich sounds so strange to our ears, we may best translate thus:\n_Eternity bids you to goodness_.  However much there was of error, of\nmisapplied force, of moral injury, there was a vast, multiform, mighty\nculture of men in chastity, in charity, in the victories and the joys of\nthe spirit.  The church set the Virgin Mother as a heavenly consoler, and\nshowed as the divinest thing a man who died for love of men.  Before the\nimagination of the oppressor, the robber, the licentious, it set a\nflaming sword of retribution.  To the poor, the sorrowful, the\nbroken-hearted, it offered the blessed assurance, _This world and the\nnext are God's_.  It opened to them a communion in thought and feeling\nwith holy and blessed souls in the invisible realm.  Life was hard and\ntroublous; priests and bishops sometimes made the trouble worse; but\nthere was the sense of a heavenly rule over all, the struggle toward a\nheavenly attainment.\n\nThe whole moral appeal of the church rested on the superterrestrial world\nwhich it asserted and pictured.  It was a world whose existence was\nvouched solely by an inward assent of the mind.  For outward government,\nthere were bishops and popes, kings and magistrates.  But all moral\nauthority, all incitement to holiness, all spiritual joy and hope, rested\non this unseen world as accepted by the mind.  Disbelieve, and all was\nlost!  And so, of necessity, _belief_ was the fundamental, the essential\nthing.  Obey the church, believe the creed,--that was the supreme double\nrequirement.\n\n\nThat imaginations when believed as these were believed exercised a mighty\npower is beyond question.  That the power was in a degree for good is\nalso clear.  But the vast dislocation between the supposed and the real\nworlds involved enormous failure and waste.\n\nOn the one hand, the whole tremendous imagery of the supernal world\nsimply slipped off altogether from a great proportion of the men and\nwomen whose time and thought were absorbed in the toils and sorrows and\npleasures of the world about them.  To make a future heaven and hell take\nany hold of them at all, the church had to translate its mysteries and\nsublimities into a very material and crude ceremonial.  It brought in\npenalties of a substantial sort,--penance and excommunication, the rack\nand the stake.  It constantly appealed to fear.  And after all, there\nremained always an enormous amount of stolid and mostly silent\nindifference and unbelief.  The priest said these things were so,--the\npriests all said so,--and the priest was backed by the bishop, and the\nbishop by the Pope.  Well, perhaps they knew--and perhaps they did n't.\nThe chance that they were right made it worth while to go to church on\nSunday, and to confession sometimes; to have one's children baptized; to\navoid giving offense to the clergy; and to make sure of their good\noffices when one came to die.  But the belief in their heaven and hell\nwas not strong enough to very much expel the greed, sloth, lust, avarice,\npride to which men were prone.\n\nThat same silent practical unbelief has been equally prevalent under all\nthe forms of Protestant supernaturalism.  Part of it, no doubt, may be\nreferred to the difficulty with which human nature responds to any appeal\nto look much beyond the immediate present.  But in great part too it\nsprings from a suspicion of unreality in that supernatural world which\nthe preacher so fluently and fervently declares.\n\nIt may be said that in a more ignorant and credulous age the mass of men\ndid believe unquestioningly in the teachings of the church.  But what\nhardly admits of debate is the misconception which the mediaeval church's\ndoctrine involved as to some of the cardinal facts of life.\n\nThis religion dealt with such primary facts of real life as the human\nbody and its laws, the passion of sex, productive industry, the\norganization of society,--in short, with all the impulses, instincts, and\npowers of man,--through a cloud of misapprehension.\n\nThe central misconception was the idea that this life is only significant\nas the antechamber to another.  Hence its occupations, responsibilities,\njoys, and troubles are of little account except as they are directly\nrelated to the other life.  This naturally bred a false attitude toward\nmany of the subjects which both actually and of right do largely engage\nthe attention of men.\n\nThe body was regarded as not the servant but the enemy of the spirit.\nThe highest state was celibacy, and marriage was a concession to human\nweakness.\n\nStudy of nature was an unprofitable pursuit.  The charter of divine truth\nwas the Bible, and its interpreter was the church.  Since this world was\nonly the scene of a brief discipline, and was itself to pass away, it was\nidle to spend much study on it.\n\nSpeculative thought was profitable only so long as it was a mere\nelucidation of the dogmas of the church.  As soon as those dogmas were\neven remotely questioned, the thinker's soul was in peril.  In repressing\nheretical suggestions by the sternest measures, the church was\ndischarging a plain duty.\n\nEarthly pleasure was dangerous, but in suffering lay medicinal virtue.\nOne mark of the saint was self-inflicted pain.  The highest symbol of\nreligion was the cross, emblem of torture and death.\n\nThe belief in a hell of endless suffering was the parent of a monstrous\nand ghastly brood of imaginations.  How far the dread thus inspired acted\nas a wholesome deterrent we can only guess.  Too well we know the torture\nit wrought in sensitive and apprehensive natures, the pangs of fear which\nmothers suffered, the sense of a curse overhanging a part of mankind,\nwhich even in our own day darkens many a life, and which in a more\nunquestioning age rested like a pall on countless hearts.\n\nSuch were among the beliefs, the consistent and logical beliefs, of the\nmediaeval churchmen.  Thus the moral mischiefs which infested society had\ntheir roots partly in that conception of religion which in other\ndirections bore noble fruit.\n\n\nDante shows the culmination of the Catholic idea; he shows emerging from\nit a new idealization of human relations; and he stands as one of the\nmaster-spirits of humanity, to whom all after-ages listen reverently.\n\nThere is in Dante a boundless terror and a boundless hope.  Compared with\nthe antique world there is a new tenderness and a new remorse.  Hell,\nPurgatory, Heaven are the projections of man's fear, his purification,\nhis hope.\n\nDante shows the vision which had grown up and possessed the belief of\nmen--a terror matched with a glory and tenderness.  But in Dante is a\nforce beyond this theologic belief--the spiritual love of a man and\nwoman.  It is personal, intense, pure, sacramental.  Thirteen hundred\nyears of Christianity had inwrought a new purity.  Out of chivalry,\nhalf-barbaric, had grown a new sentiment toward woman.  If was truly a\n\"new life.\"\n\nThrough Dante's early story,--the vestibule by which we are led to the\n\"Divina Commedia,\"--through this \"Vita Nuova,\" there runs a poignancy\nwhich has almost more of pain than pleasure.  Under an earthly symbol it\nis the vision of the ideal--the unattainable--the passion of the soul for\nwhat lies beyond its full grasp.\n\nIn form Dante reproduces the Catholic theology.  In reality he lives by\nthe ideal relation with Beatrice.  For him the true Purgatory is his\nself-reproach in her presence.  The boundless joy of reunion after a\nlifelong separation is checked on the threshold, that the intense light\nof that moment may illumine the soul's past unworthiness, and touch it\nwith a remorse deeper than all the horrors of hell could awaken.  The\nanguish purifies, and wins the boon of a Lethe in which the past wrong is\nabsolutely forgotten.  Then comes the full fruition, and the mated souls\ntraverse a Paradise which still is dearest to Dante as he watches its\nreflection in the eyes of Beatrice.\n\nYet, what does Dante show as the actuality of the world after thirteen\ncenturies of Christianity?  He shows evil existing in its worst forms and\nin wide extent.  The horrors of the Inferno are the retribution which\nseemed to Dante appropriate for the crimes going on about him.  The sin\nwhose punishment he depicts is not a figment of the theologians, an\nimaginary participation in Adam's trespass, or the mere human shadows\nagainst a dazzling ideal of purity.  In the men of his own time and in\nhis own community he saw flagrant wrong of every sort,--lust, cruelty,\ntreachery.  The physical hell he imagines in another world is the\ncounterpart of the moral hell he sees about him in this world.  In his\nInferno, Hate and Horror hold high carnival.  Much of it is to the modern\nreader like a frightful nightmare of the imagination.\n\n\nIn the progress of the centuries, along with the growth of ethical and\nspiritual ideals has been the movement of coarser forces--often seeming\nto destroy the ethical, yet giving power for the upward movement.\n\nIn the reconstruction of European society, the first power was that of\nmilitary force.  Out of this grew feudalism,--a kind of order, with its\nown code of duties; and chivalry, with an atmosphere of noble sentiment\nrunning into fantasy.\n\nNext came the powers of wealth and of knowledge.  Wealth grew first by\nthe association of craftsmen,--the guilds, the free cities.\n\nThen commerce spread, as in the trade of Italy and the Low Countries with\nthe East.\n\nA succession of discoveries and inventions in the physical world advanced\nsociety.\n\nGunpowder helped to overthrow feudalism.\n\nPrinting made the Reformation possible.\n\nThe Copernican theory had its practical result in the stimulation of\ndiscovery and commerce; its intellectual issue in the weakening of the\nchurch's cosmogony, and a discredit of the church's claim to real\nknowledge.\n\nThe growing wealth of the middle class gave freedom to England,--the\nmerchants and cities were the strength of the Puritan and Parliamentary\nparty.\n\nA series of inventions has within the last century multiplied wealth--the\nuse of canals, textile machinery, steam, electricity.  This has created a\nnew class of rich.  It has improved the condition of the laboring man,\nnot enough to satisfy him, but enough to strengthen him to demand more.\n\nThus, military force giving strength; its organization as feudalism,\ngiving the chivalric virtues and training an upper class; commerce,\ndiscovery, invention, raising first the middle class and then the\nlower,--these forces, not on the surface ethical, have cooperated to\nrealize the ideal.\n\n\nLuther led a revolt which in its issue freed half Europe from the Roman\ncourt.  He made the quarrel on a moral question.  No man, he said, could\nsell a license from God to commit sin.  If the Pope said otherwise, the\nPope was a liar and no vicegerent of God.  So he put in the forefront of\nthe revolting forces a moral idea.\n\nHe showed that the spiritual life, with all its aspirations, struggles,\nand victories, was open to man without help from Pope or priesthood.  He\ngave the German people the Bible in their own tongue.  He taught by word\nand example that marriage was the rightful accompaniment of a life\nconsecrated to God.\n\nHe had many of the limitations of the peasant and the priest.  He was\nwholly inadequate to any comprehensive conception of the higher life of\nhumanity.  His ideal of character was based on a mystical experience,\nunder the forms of an antiquated theology.  He was narrow; he confounded\nthe friends with the foes of progress; he had no clear understanding of\nthe social and political needs of the time; he was full of superstition,\nand saw the Devil present in every mischief; he was often violent and\nwrathful.  But he had a great and tender heart; he had the soldierly\ntemper which prompted him to strike when more sensitive and reflective\nmen held back; and he won the leadership of the new age when against all\nthe pomp and power of Emperor and Pope he planted himself on the truth as\nhe saw the truth: \"Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise; God help me!\"\n\n\nCopernicus died in 1543--two years before Luther.  For thirty-six\nyears--all through the Reformation struggle--he was quietly working out\nhis theory.  The book containing it he did not venture to publish, till\nunder Paul III. there was a lull in the storm.  He was a loyal Catholic,\nbut his teaching was sure to conflict with the church.  He kept alive\njust long enough to see his book come from the printers--dying at the age\nof seventy.  Tycho Brahe, Kepler, and Galileo came later.\n\n\nThe Protestants in the name of religion defied and set aside the Catholic\nchurch.  They were impelled to do it because they saw that the church,\nclaiming infallibility, was practically fallible and faulty in its\nmorals, as in the matter of the indulgences.  They found courage to do\nit, because men like Luther learned by experience that the sense of\npardoned sin, of a divine communion, of peace and joy, of which the\nchurch had claimed the exclusive possession, were possible to them wholly\nwithout the church's intervention.  That was one side of the revolt: the\nother side was that the civil society, as in England, had grown strong\nenough, and the monarchical and national temper bold enough, to be\nimpatient of any foreign control.\n\nBut the Protestant reformers in an intellectual sense simply remoulded a\nlittle the old creed, detaching so much only as was inextricably blended\nwith the authority of the Roman priesthood.  Theirs was in no sense an\nintellectually creative movement.  Politically and socially it had great\neffects.  Intellectually it did hardly more than _to set the door open_.\nEven this it did unconsciously and unwillingly.  The early Protestants\nfound themselves face to face with elemental forces of human\nnature,--with misery, sin, and greed, with passions stimulated by the\nsense that authority was weakening.  They saw no other resource, their\nown minds prompted no other thought, their spiritual experience brought\nno other suggestion, than to continue the old appeal to the supernatural\nworld.  The creed of Calvin is harsher than the creed of Rome; its\nspiritual world no less definitely conceived and authoritatively taught;\nits insistence on _belief_ no less absolute.  The traditional Protestant\northodoxy is only the Catholic theology a little shrunken and dwindled.\nIts appeal to the reason is hardly stronger, and its appeal to the\nimagination is less strong.\n\n\nBut for more than three hundred years the whole conception of a\nsupernatural universe has been growing weaker and weaker in its hold on\nthe minds of men.  Shakspere paints the most various, active, and\npassionate world of humanity,--a humanity brilliant with virtues, dark\nwith crimes, rich in tenderness, humor, loveliness, awe, yet almost\nunaffected by any consideration of the supernatural world.  On Hamlet's\nbrooding there breaks no ray from Christian revelation.  No hope of a\nhereafter soothes Lear as he bends over dead Cordelia.  Macbeth,\nhesitating on the verge of crime, throws out of the scale any dread of\nfuture retribution,--assure him only of success _here_, and\n\n  \"We 'd jump the life to come.\"\n\n\nIt is impossible to pass the exhaustless Shakspere without some further\nword of inadequate comment.  Apparently no one in his day guessed that\namong the jostling throng of soldiers, statesmen, and philosophers this\nobscure playwright was the intellectual king.  But Time has more than\nredressed the wrong, for now he is not only reverenced as a sovereign but\nsometimes worshiped as an oracle.  The prime secret of his power,\ncompared with the men before him and about him, is his return to reality.\nIt is the actual world, the actual men and women in it, that he portrays,\nand not the puppets or shadows of a made-up world.  It is a change of\nstandpoint such as Bacon made when he recalled philosophy from abstract\nspeculation to the study of concrete facts, and calmly told men that\ntheir past achievements were as nothing compared to the truth they were\nto attain with the new weapons.  Shakspere has no thought of mankind's\nadvance, no method or system to offer, but as seer and artist he beholds\nand portrays the universe about him.  We get some idea of what the change\nmeans when we compare the humanity which he depicts with the account of\nmankind given by a logical theologian like Calvin; the simple, sharp\ndivision between saints and sinners, against the mixed, particolored,\ngenuinely human people who touch our tears and laughter on the\ndramatist's page.  Or again, contrast his world with Dante's, where the\nprofoundest imagination and sensibility project themselves into a\nphantasmagoria.  In the change to Shakspere we are tempted to say that we\nhave lost heaven and escaped hell, but have taken fresh hold on earthly\nlife and found in it unmeasured richness and significance.\n\nIn reading Shakspere we are never confused or weakened as between virtue\nand vice.  In simply showing us this life as it is acted out by all kinds\nof people, he shows perpetually the beauty of courage, truth, tenderness,\npurity, and the ugliness of their opposites.  Measure him at the most\ncritical point, chastity.  His plays have plenty of coarseness; they have\ntouches, though very rarely, of voluptuous description; but they always\nleave us with the sense that purity is noble and impurity is evil.  It is\nstriking to note the tone in this respect of his successive productions.\nHis youthful poem, \"Venus and Adonis,\" is touched with the disease which\nhad blighted the literature and the life of southern Europe,--the\ninfection of the imagination by sensuality, a sort of intellectual\nputrescence.  In the frank daylight of the early dramas this nightmare\nhas disappeared, yet in the generally clean atmosphere there occurs\nsometimes a touch of depraved Italian manners, as in \"All's Well that\nEnds Well,\" the deliberate seduction attempted by Bertram, bringing\nlittle discredit and no punishment.  Later in the great plays the note of\nchastity is always clear and firm.  In his women, purity is nobly\ndepicted; in his men there appears no such attainment, but often a\npassionate abhorrence of vice.  In only one play, \"Antony and Cleopatra,\"\nit might superficially appear that there is a glorification of lawless\nlove; but in the action of the story their lawlessness ruins Antony's and\nCleopatra's fortunes; then, with the imminence of death, their passion,\nescaping from the thralldom of flesh, soars into a sublimation that\nredeems Antony's error and half transforms Cleopatra.\n\nIn Shakspere's world the supernatural sanctions have almost disappeared,\nbut the moral law is still supreme.  Yet in some ways it is a very\nunsatisfying world.  In its deeper aspects woe predominates over joy.\nAll phases of suffering and anguish find their language here; but of\nrapture there are only transient glimpses, of great and abiding happiness\nthere is almost none, and there is scarcely a suggestion of \"the peace\nthat passeth understanding.\"  We sometimes feel the sharpest pressure of\nthe problems to which Christianity had addressed itself, unlightened by\nany solution.  There is the echo of Paul's cry, \"O wretched man that I\nam, who shall deliver me from this body of death!\"--as in the king at\nprayer, in \"Hamlet;\" but nowhere is Paul's note of triumphant\ndeliverance.  We see men overwhelmed by temptation, as Macbeth and\nAngelo; we nowhere see men rising over conquered temptation to higher\nmanhood.  Man in Shakspere is generally the creature of Fate.  Man's\nconfrontal by the mystery of existence is the real theme of \"Hamlet.\"\nThe true unity of that drama is not in the action nor in the characters;\nit is the underlying and unanswered problem,--man, in his finest\nsensibilities and noblest aspirations, beset by a world of trouble, of\nconfusion, of unfathomable mystery.  The ghost from the other world is a\nmere piece of stage scenery; to the real sentiment belongs the frank\npaganism of Hamlet as he holds the skull,--_this_ is the end of Yorick,\nand that anything of Yorick may still live except these mouldering bones\ndoes not even occur to Hamlet as a question.  Yet when he is tempted to\ntake refuge in suicide, the possibility of \"something after death\" is\nsufficient to deter him.  The thought suggests no hope, only a vague\nrestraining fear.  But to the guilty king there is a terrible reality in\nthe divine law which he has broken; he struggles to reconcile himself\nwith heaven, but his will seems paralyzed to retrace the path of\nwrong-doing.  The incapable will, the baffled intellect, cast a gloom\nover the whole drama.\n\nIt is not only a clew to man's relation with the unseen and eternal that\nwe miss in Shakspere.  He fails to show one trait which belongs to human\nnature as truly as Hotspur's courage or Falstaff's drollery.  He nowhere\ndepicts a life controlled by a moral ideal, deliberately chosen and\nresolutely pursued.  His world is rich in passion, but deficient in clear\nand high purpose and soldierly resolve.  The metal of mastery is lacking.\nHe shows us life as a wonderful spectacle, but he does not directly aid\nus to live our own life.  His amazing treasury of wisdom seldom lends a\nphrase that flashes comfort into our sorrow, hope into our dejection, or\nstrength to our wavering will.\n\nYet when this has been said, it remains true that Shakspere's atmosphere\nis wholesome and even invigorating.  We are helped in our higher life by\nmany influences besides direct moral teaching.  One takes a twenty-mile\ntramp over moor and mountain, and no word of admonition or guidance comes\nfrom rock or tree, but he comes back stronger and serener.  So from an\nhour among Shakspere's people one may well emerge with a fuller, happier\nbeing.  It is the inscrutable power of real life truly seen, even though\nseen but in part.\n\nThe wish is as inevitable as it is hopeless that we might know the\npersonality of Shakspere, the medium through which the light passing was\nthus colored.  We get but rare and slight glimpses; the boyhood in the\nsweet Avon country; the stumble on the threshold of manhood in his\nmarriage; the plunge into roaring London; the theatrical surroundings;\nthe great encompassing drama of Elizabeth's England; the slow winning of\na competence; the quiet years at the end, a burgess of Stratford town.\nThere is a rich, tantalizing disclosure of a phase of the inner life in\nthe Sonnets; what they seem to convey is a passion delicate and profound,\nstriving to sublimate and satisfy itself, but baffled by unworthiness in\nthe object, and perhaps by some unworthiness in the lover.  More distinct\nis the outward closing scene; the retirement to the native country town,\nthe modest prosperity, the business-like making of the will.  Prosaic\nenough it sounds, yet in substance it has this significance, that this\ngreat genius and passionate soul bore himself among the materialities,\nwhere so many make shipwreck, with a practical sense and steadiness which\nbrought him to the haven at least of a comfortable and honorable age.  So\nmuch Shakspere certainly had in himself,--this homely yet vital\nself-command.  With this is to be taken that he had also that\nintellectual mastery of himself of which the highest proof is the\ncreation of great works of art.  Self-control, prudential and\nintellectual, was one element of Shakspere, one secret of his sanity and\nstrength.\n\nOne loves to see in \"The Tempest\" the crowning utterance of his maturity.\nHow wise, how noble it is, and the wisdom and nobility set forth in what\nexquisite play of fancy and wealth of humor!  As in Hamlet we seem to see\nShakspere in his mid-life storm and stress, so in Prospero we think we\nrecognize the ideal of his ripeness.  There is the wise man torn from\nbooks and reverie, and rudely thrust upon treachery and the stormy sea;\nthere is control gained over airy powers and ethereal beauties; struggle\nwith bestial evil; forgiveness of the wrong-doer; happiness in the\nhappiness of his child, and willing surrender of her to her lover; the\nadmonition that love perfect itself by the mastery of passion.  So wise,\nso beneficent, so lofty is Shakspere's latest creation.  A shadow flits\nacross, in the thought of mortal transiency:--\n\n          \"We are such stuff\n  As dreams are made of, and our little life\n  Is rounded by a sleep.\"\n\n\nYet instantly Prospero marks this as the utterance of a disturbed moment:\n\"Bear with my weakness, my old brain is troubled;\" the coming encounter\nwith Caliban has shaken him.  Most Shaksperean, too, is this: alternating\nimpulses of trust and doubt; now a sense of being led \"by Providence\ndivine;\" an instinct of a \"divinity that shapes our ends;\" and again, the\nmood that sees beyond the present scene only blankness and the end.\n\nThose elements which in Shakspere are absent or dim,--the belief in a\ndivine rule and celestial destiny, and a high and fixed moral\npurpose,--these appear in full strength in men of Shakspere's time, the\nmen of religion; but in their minds inextricably blent with a scheme of\nthe universe which it is plain was to Shakspere as unreal as the\nmythology of the Greeks, and which he treats in much the same way, merely\nborrowing it for a dramatic purpose.  The men of religion had no such\nconsummate expression in literature as Shakspere, though they had their\nTaylor and Herbert and Milton; but to appreciate them we must look at\nthem in action, and we may take the Puritan as their type.\n\nBut first let us note that in Catholicism as early as in Protestantism\nappeared the sharp rift between intellect and belief.  Montaigne, a man\nof the world, is outwardly a conformist, but a real skeptic.  A nominal\nCatholic, he corresponds to Shakspere, a nominal Protestant.  Montaigne\nreveals the world of one personality as, frankly as Shakspere pictures a\nworld of humanity, and in each the purely religious element is almost\ntotally absent.\n\n\nShakspere shows the widest reach of the mind apart from a definite\nreligious purpose or a strong religious faith.  In contrast with him is\nthe Puritan effort to apprehend and follow a divine rule and achieve a\ndivine destiny.  The typical Puritan addressed himself to man's\nfoes,--all griefs and sufferings culminating in Death; all wrong-doing,\nas Sin; and the retribution and woe hereafter, as Hell.  To escape from\nthese was his supreme object, and to win what he as firmly believed\nin--Holiness, Life, and Heaven.\n\nThe creed was accepted as the form of this truth, but the earnest men\nsought to know its truths experimentally,--to take home the full sense of\nthem.  This was found in the consciousness of man's supreme need; and,\nresponding to that, a divine command, an invitation, and a threat.  The\nresult of this was to set man upon a struggle so intense that it was\nindeed a warfare,--first, against his own lusts, then against the evils\nin the world around him.  These evils were to him embodied--in the Pope,\nthe head of a false religion, the oppressor of God's people; in the\nimitation and approach to Popery in the church of England; in all false\nbelief and error, all wrong-doers, and Satan himself.\n\nThe Puritan believed that the sublimest possibility was open to man, and\npurposed at every cost to achieve it.  \"Man's chief end is to glorify God\nand enjoy him forever.\"  There was also the most dreadful possibility to\nbe shunned.  All earthly pleasure he held in suspicion, as a bait of the\ngreat adversary of souls.\n\nThe belief of serious men in the seventeenth century was that theology\nwas the guide to heaven.  They believed this as modern men believe that\nscience is the guide to human life.  Hence, an infinite diversity of\nsects, and hence the attempts to enforce each by authority.\n\nThe Bible fed the deeper substratum of the Puritan life.  It touched and\nfired the imagination of the common people.  The dominant idea on which\nthe English Puritan laid hold was the Old Testament idea of God's chosen\npeople,--separate from the rest of the world, given a code of written\nlaws, led by a divinely appointed priesthood and prophets, disciplined by\na constant intervention of rewards and punishments.  This conception they\ntransferred to the faithful of their own time; and against them was\nAntichrist, in the Roman church, to which the English prelates seemed\ntraitorously to incline.  They proposed to purify and maintain the church\nin England, or, failing there, to transplant it to America.\n\nThe typical Puritan character, as most fully worked out in Scotland and\nNew England, was a mixture of intense idealism and sternest practicality.\nThe idealism aimed to control every action of life, and to base itself on\nthe ultimate reality.  It renounced the aid of art and embodied\nimagination; it renounced human authority; it had no aid from material\nbeauty, none from knowledge of nature.\n\nThis religion had an appalling side.  Foremost among its teachings was\nman's depravity and the terrible wrath of God.  The worst cruelty of the\nIroquois was mercy compared to God's dealing with sinners.  This was an\ninheritance from an older religion.  But the condition of salvation in\nthe Catholic church--and in all high church religion--was practically\nobedience to the church.  But the Puritan required a conscious change of\nheart, which to many was impossible.  The utmost pains were taken that\nthe most laborious right-doing should count for nothing, unless\naccompanied by this mystic experience.\n\nCatholicism put man under guardianship through the hierarchy, the\nconfessional, the whole church system.  Calvinism threw him on his own\nresources,--set him face to face with God.  It, too, set a church to help\nhim, but even the minister of the church exhorted him to make his own\npeace with God.  This responsibility weighted men heavily, and made them\nsombre.  It crushed the feeble, but made strong men stronger.\n\nThe first half of the seventeenth century was full of religious\nenthusiasms, which carried high expectations.  Milton looked for a\nwonderful advance in truth.  The Puritan sought to build a church simple\nin forms, austere in morals and manners, exacting personal holiness of\nits members, and subjecting the ungodly to a rule of the saints.  Charles\nthe First and Archbishop Laud believed in a religious monarchy; that the\nking should be chief in church and state; that beauty of ritual should go\nalong with the encouragement of festivity and joyousness; and that the\nultimate aim was a reunited Christendom.\n\nThe wave passed, and these expectations had failed.  But the force of the\nPuritan movement had accomplished certain things.  It had turned the tide\nof the English civil war, it had leavened the more serious portion of the\nnation, and it had planted the New England colonies.\n\nIn England the Puritan zeal gave force to overthrow despotism, but it\nthen plunged the nation into chaos; it could not rule or harmonize the\ncomposite forces of national life; constitutional monarchy was\nestablished at last under William of Orange, by men of less fervent and\nlofty temper than the Puritans, but better conversant with the wants and\npossibilities of the actual world.\n\n\nMilton was a man of heroic mould.  He governed himself by a deliberate\nand lofty moral purpose.  The thirst for \"moral perfection\" inspired and\nruled his life.  He was far from the narrowness of the typical Puritan.\nHe was open on all sides to the noblest influences.  The heroic antique\ntemper, the beauty and richness of the Greek, the religious seriousness\nof the Puritan, the English love of freedom, all met in him.  He was at\nheart a poet and scholar, but he threw himself into the active life of\nhis time.\n\nYet his genius was cramped by his theology.  He could not fuse the\nconflicting elements of thought,--just as the heroes of the Revolution,\nPym and Hampden and Cromwell and Falkland, could not blend the elements\nof English political society.  He is like his own lion \"struggling to get\nfree.\"  His epic is a story of disaster.  His deity is undivine.  There\nis more that touches sympathy and admiration in his Satan than in his\nJehovah or Adam.\n\nThe best thing he gives us is his own noble personality, imbuing the\nmajestic rhythm with a kind of moral power.  Servant and friend of\nCromwell, sacrificing all scholarly delight to his country's need,\nchampion of freedom, worshiper of truth, building in neglected solitude\nhis epic,--his works are less than Shakspere's, but _he_ is greater than\nthe imaginary Hamlet, Othello, or Brutus.\n\nCromwell is in action the counterpart of Milton in thought,--a heroic\nnature struggling with irreconcilable elements.  Each is confronted by a\nsituation as difficult as Hamlet's; but though they cannot fully master\nit, they deal with it like men.\n\nHere is the true advantage of the men of religion over Shakspere and his\ncreations,--here is the greater world than Shakspere saw,--men grappling\nwith their fate and in the struggle working out heroic lives.\n\n\nThe finest type of the New England colonists is seen in the Winthrops,\nfather and son.  When the migration is determined on, the son writes:\n\"For myself, I have seen so much of the variety of the world that I\nesteem no more of the diversities of countries than as so many inns,\nwhereof the traveler that hath lodged in the best or the worst findeth no\ndifference when he cometh to his journey's end; and I shall call that my\ncountry where I may most glorify God and enjoy the presence of my dearest\nfriends.  Therefore herein I submit myself to God's will and yours, and,\nwith your leave, do dedicate myself (laying by all desire of other\nemployments whatsoever) to the service of God and the company herein,\nwith the whole endeavors both of body and mind.\"\n\nThe elder Winthrop is shown to us in the Journal or chronicle of the\nMassachusetts colony, a sombre record of seemingly petty events; in his\nreligious diary of an earlier period; and in his domestic letters, which\nare full of manly strength and sweetness.  He combined some of the chief\nelements of greatness,--loftiness of aim; a character disinterested,\npatient, modest, brave; deep religious experience; and personal\ntenderness.\n\nTo a man like Winthrop, the heart of his creed was that man's true aim is\nmoral perfection and a living relation with a Divine Lover.  The sense of\na Divine Presence--inspiring, ruling, gladdening--is what his religion\nmeans to him.  In this quiet country gentleman, portrayed in his private\ndiary, is an intense play of feeling and imagination, concentrated on the\nattainment of a personal and social ideal.\n\nAll this introspective fervor merged into a public enterprise,--the\ntransplanting of a church and colony to Massachusetts Bay.  The last half\nof his life was spent in the most assiduous, minute, exacting labors.\nThe self-watchful diary gives place to a public chronicle, prosaic as a\nship's log-book--and, like the log-book, the shorthand record of\nadventures, heroisms, and sublimities.\n\nIn the Puritan of Winthrop's type the flame of spiritual emotion was\nharnessed and made to serve.  The drudgery of founding New England was\ndone by men whose hearts were touched with fire,--men such as Lowell\nsings of:--\n\n  \"Who, dowered with every gift of passion,\n  In that fierce flame can forge and fashion\n  Of self and sin the anchor strong;\n  Can thence compel the driving force\n  Of daily life's mechanic course.\"\n\n\nWinthrop set out with a great ideal--shown with statesmanlike breadth in\nthe \"Considerations,\" and with apostolic fervor in the \"Model of\nChristian Charity.\"  His conception was cramped into conformity with the\nfar narrower views of the ministers who were the leaders in the colony.\nYet it was his ideal and his personality which gave most to success.\n\nThe letters between Winthrop and his wife are an example of human love\nperfected by a higher love.  He writes to her: \"Neither can the sea drown\nthy husband, nor enemies destroy, nor any adversity deprive thee of thy\nhusband.\"  Shakspere has no note like that.  Margaret writes from her\ncountry home to her husband in London: \"My good husband, cheer up thy\nheart in the expectation of God's goodness to us, and let nothing dismay\nor discourage thee; if the Lord be with us, who can be against us?  My\ngrief is the fear of staying behind thee, but I must leave all to the\ngood providence of God.\"  She was obliged to stay behind in England,\nawaiting the birth of a child.  On the eve of sailing he writes her: \"I\npurpose, if God will, to be with thee upon Thursday come sen'night, and\nthen I must take my leave of thee for a summer's day and a winter's day.\nThe Lord our good God will (I hope) send us a happy meeting again in his\ngood time.  Amen!  Being now ready to send away my letters, I received\nthine; the reading of it has dissolved my head into tears.  Can write no\nmore.  If I live, I will see thee ere I go.  I shall part from thee with\nsorrow enough; be comfortable, my most sweet wife, our God will be with\nthee.  Farewell.\"\n\nA few months later, across the pages of the Journal, full of the cares\nand anxieties of the struggling colony, shines a ray of pure joy.\nMargaret has come!  And the whole community rejoices and makes cheer,\nwith homely and hearty feasting, for the happiness of their good governor.\n\nThe actual conditions nourished homely virtues,--industry, thrift,\nself-reliance, family affection, civic responsibility.  The greatness of\nearly New England is partly measured by the fact that there were\ncomparatively no dregs, no mass of ignorance and vice.  It was not the\nindividuals who rise into sight at this distance who were superior to the\nprominent men of England or France,--it was the lower stratum which was\nabove that elsewhere.  Two prime causes worked to this elevation,--the\nspiritual estimate of man and the economic conditions which offered\nindependence to every one on the condition \"work and save.\"  The social\nand political conditions were largely shaped by these underlying facts.\n\nThe wrestle for a livelihood under stern material conditions was a prime\nfactor in the making of New England.  Whatever the creed might say, in\npractice Work was the equal partner of Faith in building manhood and the\nstate.  The soil was to their bodies what Calvinism was to their\nsouls,--yielding nourishment, but only through a hard struggle.  Its\nsterility drove them to the sea for a livelihood; they became fishermen;\nthen, carrying their fish and lumber abroad, they grew into commerce.\nThey traded along the coast, to the West Indies, to Europe, and so into\ntheir little province came the winds of the larger world.  They learned\nthe sailor's virtues,--his courage, his mingled awe and mastery of\nelemental forces, his sense of lands beyond the horizon.  Well might\nWinthrop name the first ship he launched \"The Blessing of the Bay.\"\n\nThe austere land had small room for slaves, dependent and incapable.  One\nof the first large companies included some scores of bondmen; they landed\nto face a fierce and hungry winter, and straightway the bondmen were set\nfree,--as slaves they would be an incumbrance; as freemen they could get\ntheir own living.  The thrifty colonists of a later generation did a\ndriving business in African slaves for their southern neighbors, but they\nhad small use for them at home.\n\nWinthrop's constant effort, as shown in his Journal, is for reason and\nright.  It is the arguments for and against any course that he\nelaborates.  Scarce a word of their sufferings or of his own\nfeelings--but to know and do the right was all-important.  The greatness\nof his own ideal is shown when he draws with a free hand, in the\n\"Conclusions\" or the \"Model.\"  In the Journal, he is laboring toward this\nunder the iron conditions of actualities.  He and his associates had to\nbe strong-willed and stern; they were warring against tremendous\ndifficulties--more tremendous to them because interpreted as the work of\nSatan, while even their God was an awful being.\n\nSuperstition throws a dark shadow over the chronicle.  Even Winthrop was\ndeeply infected by it.  Disasters small and great were interpreted, on\nthe Old Testament idea, as divine judgments.  A boy seven years old fell\nthrough the ice and was drowned while his parents were at lecture, and\nhis sister was drowned in trying to save him.  \"The parents had no more\nsons, and confessed they had been too indulgent towards him, and had set\ntheir hearts overmuch on him.\"  A man working on a milldam kept on for an\nhour after nightfall on Saturday to finish it, and next day his child\nfell into a well and was drowned.  The father confessed it as a judgment\nof God for his Sabbath-breaking.\n\nThere is not unfrequent mention of some woman driven by religious\nbrooding to frenzy, sometimes to murder.  The awful possibilities of hell\nfor herself and her children wrought the mother-heart to madness.  The\nreligious guides of the people used unsparingly the appeal to fear.  The\nbelief in witchcraft, which long had scourged Europe, broke out in a\npanic of fear and cruelty.  It was a tragic culmination of the worst\nelements,--superstition, malignity, ministerial tyranny.  Then came the\nreaction, and with it a triumph of the wiser sense, the cooler temper,\nthe layman's moderation, which thenceforth were to guide the commonwealth\non a humbler but safer road.\n\nIn a dramatic sense the turning-point of the story--and the revelation of\nthe saving power at the heart of this grim people--was when, after the\nwitchcraft frenzy had subsided, Samuel Sewall, the chief justice of the\ncolony, rose in his place in the meeting-house and humbly confessed\nbefore God and man that he had erred and shed innocent blood.\n\nIn the more prosaic temper of the next stage, a sturdy manhood sometimes\nflashes into poetry.  So John Wise, a minister but the leader of the\npopular party in church government, strikes the high note of courage: \"If\nmen are trusted with duty, they must trust that, and not events.  If men\nare placed at the helm to steer in all weather that blows, they must not\nbe afraid of the waves or a wet coat.\"\n\nIn personal religion there was from the outset the intense struggle for\nan inward peace and joy, with tears and groanings,--the victory sometimes\nfound, sometimes missed.  There was a resolute facing of what was held as\ntruth.  The ministers and laymen battled with the problems of the\ninfinite.  The issue after two centuries was an open break from Calvinism\nin Channing, and the glad vision of Emerson.\n\nA feature in the story is the New Englander's relation with Nature as he\nfound her,--first like a terrible power of destruction, by cold and\nhunger; this he conquers by endurance.  Then for generations he wrings a\nhard livelihood out of her.  Then by his wits he makes her serve him more\ncompletely.  At last her beauty is disclosed to him,--a beauty which has\nits roots in the very struggles he has had, and the contrasts they\nafford,--no child of the tropics loves Nature as he does.\n\nSo of the sea: first he dares it as explorer and voyager; then he makes\nit his feeding-ground--catches the cod and chases the whale; in his ships\nhe does battle against pirate and public foe; he makes the deep the\nhighway of his commerce; and at last he feels its grandeur, into which\nenters the reminiscence of all his combats.\n\nElements which Puritanism had renounced came in later from other sources.\nThe fresh contact with truth and reality was given by Franklin.  The free\njoy of religion, its aggressive love, came in Methodism.  Beautiful\nritual returned in Episcopacy.  The frank enjoyment of life developed in\nthe South, transmitted from the country life of the English squire and\nmellowed on American soil.\n\nAt the outset of the story of America stands the Puritan, his heart set\non subduing the infernal element and winning the celestial; regarding\nthis life as a stern warfare, but the possible pathway to an infinite\nhappiness beyond; fierce to beat down the emissaries of evil,--heretic,\nwitch, or devil; yet tender at inmost heart, and valiant for the truth as\nhe sees it.  After a century, behold the Yankee,--the shrewd, toilful,\nthrifty occupant of the homely earth; one side of his brain speculating\non the eternities, and the other side devising wealth, comfort, personal\nand social good.  And to-day, successor of Puritan and Yankee, Cavalier\nand Quaker, stands the American, composite of a thousand elements, with a\ndestiny which seems to hover between heights and abysses, but amid all\nwhose vicissitudes and faults we still see faith and courage and manly\npurpose working toward a kingdom of God on earth and in heaven.\n\n\nThe Protestant way of salvation was through \"experimental religion.\"\nThis meant the appropriation as a personal experience of the truths of\nhuman guilt and divine mercy.  A man must not only believe but intensely\nfeel that he was wholly guilty before God and in danger of everlasting\ndamnation.  He must then have a vivid appreciation that Christ out of\npure love had died for him, and that on this ground alone God offered him\npardon and salvation.  This offer he must consciously accept, with\nemotions of profound remorse for his wrong-doing, gratitude for his\ndeliverance, and absolute dependence upon divine grace for help against\nfuture sin and for final reception to an endless heaven.\n\nTo attain this experience was the aim and goal of the religious man,\nunder all the more strenuous forms of Protestantism.  Until it was\nreached, all good actions, all fair traits of character, were worthless.\nWithout it there was no escape from the unquenchable fire.  If it came as\na genuine experience, it was the passage from death unto life.  But as\nthere was great possibility of self-deception in the matter, the mind was\nconstantly thrown back on self-examination, and in sensitive natures\nthere was often an alternation of terrors and transports.\n\nThis experience of saving faith, of experimental religion, must be\ntranslated for us into very different language and symbols from those\nwhich our ancestors used before we can have any sympathy with it.\nPerhaps the truest account of the matter for us is something like this:\nthe Christian theology was a system of myths, which had grown out of\nfacts of human experience.  The initial fact was a good man whose love\nwent out to bad men, and woke in them a sense of their own wrong along\nwith a new joy and hope.  From this centre the influence spread in\nwidening circles, and was gradually transformed in the expression,--mixed\ntoo with earlier notions, with crudities, with sophistications,--until\nJustice and Love and Punishment and Forgiveness were personified and\ndramatized and a whole cloud-world of fancy built up.  Already in the age\nof the Reformation the human intellect was sapping the foundations of the\nstructure.  But the religious imagination was still intensely\nsusceptible, and when the moral sense was sharply awakened by the\nreformers both within and without the Catholic church, it fell back on\nthe imagination as its familiar ally, and clothed with new life the\nancient forms.  The Catholic turned with fresh ardor to mass and miracle\nand holy church.  The Protestant fell back on a more personal and inward\nexperience; he conceived that in each heart and mind the whole drama from\nEden to Calvary and on to the Judgment Day must be realized and\nappropriated as the working principle of life.\n\nTo the mystical, the sentimental, the self-confident, it was a welcome\nand uplifting exercise.  To the timid and self-distrustful it was a\nterrible ordeal.  To the intellectual it was a perpetual challenge to\nskepticism.  Even Bunyan puts as his first and worst temptation, \"to\nquestion the being of God and the truth of his gospel.\"  To the prosaic\nand practical minds it made the whole business of religion a dim and\nfar-away affair.\n\n\nExperimental religion was the core of Protestantism for more than three\ncenturies.  It was blended with other elements in a series of great\nmovements.  In Puritanism it united with an ascetic and militant temper,\na metaphysical theology, a stern rule of life, and a conception of the\nnation as under a divine law like that of ancient Israel.\n\nThen came Quakerism, a religion of the quiet, illumined heart, and the\npeaceful life.  Next, Methodism, a wave of aggressive love, seeking to\nsave others where Puritanism had been self-saving, appealing less to the\nhead and more to the heart.  Following this, in England, came\nEvangelicalism, a revival of self-conscious experience, but flowing out\nnow not only as in Methodism into a crusade to save souls, but into\nlabors for criminals, for slaves, for the poor, under such leaders as\nHoward and Wilberforce and Shaftesbury.\n\nThese phases are from English and American history.  They might largely\nbe paralleled elsewhere.  And along with them, it is to be remembered,\nwent always not only a party imbued with the Catholic or high church\nidea, but also a moderate party, holding a more broadly and simply\nreligious view.\n\n\nPerhaps the most effective type of Christianity has been the simple\nacceptance of the familiar laws of goodness, having in the Bible their\nexpress sanction, with a great promise and an awful warning for the\nfuture, and the embodiment of holiness, love, and help, in Christ.  This\nhas been the religion of a multitude of faithful souls, manly men and\nwomanly women, who did not concern themselves with any elaborate\ntheology, but went along their daily way, strong in obedience to duty,\ntrustful in a divine guidance, and with serene hope for what may come\nafter death.  Their souls have been nurtured on whatever was most vital\nand most tender in the words of Scripture and the services of the church,\nand whatever was unintelligible or innutritions they have quietly passed\nby.  This is the essential religion of humanity, made definite and vivid\nby accepted symbols and rules, and made warm by the sense of fellowship\nwith a great company.\n\n\nRecurring to the successive phases of religious thought, the next\ndevelopment of Protestantism, while in a sense world-wide, may be most\nclearly seen in America.  By Jonathan Edwards there was begun the\napplication of a rationalizing process to the theology of Calvin and to\nexperimental religion.  In Edwards almost the only result was a more\nlurid and tremendous affirmation of the old dogma and the old\nrequirement.  But the New England mind, speculative, practical, and\nintense, worked rapidly on.  In Channing and his associates came the\nrenunciation of Depravity, Atonement, and the Trinity.  In the next\ngeneration, Unitarianism expressed itself through Theodore Parker as\nsimple theism.  A little later than the Unitarian movement, the old\nOrthodoxy itself became transformed into a new Orthodoxy.  The foremost\ninterpreters of the transformation were Bushnell and Beecher; Bushnell\ntranslating the Atonement into terms of purely natural goodness,--not as\na transaction, but an expression; and Beecher finding in Christ simply\nthe truth that Love is sovereign of the universe.  To Bushnell and\nBeecher the historical Christ remained in a unique sense an incarnation\nof God.  By later voices of the new Orthodoxy--for example, Phillips\nBrooks--he is spoken of rather as the one actual instance of perfect\nhumanity, and in this sense a manifestation of God and the spiritual\nleader of mankind.\n\n\nBut for three centuries men have been studying the facts of existence\nfrom an entirely different side from that whence the church takes its\noutlook.  They have been finding out all kinds of curious facts, totally\nunconnected with any supernatural sphere.  First, they made such\ndiscoveries as that the world is not flat, but round; not stationary, but\ndoubly revolving.  And so they went on.  The stars, the plants, the\nanimals, the human body, yielded all manner of curious knowledge.  New\npowers came into men's hands through this knowledge; new avenues to\nhappiness were opened.  Facts wove themselves together in wider and wider\ncombinations.  Orderly procedure was found where there had seemed such\nconfusion as only capricious spirits could occasion.  It is learned, too,\nthat even as the individual man has grown up from babyhood, so the race\nof man has grown up from the beast.  The globe itself has grown from a\nsimple origin into infinite diversity and complexity.  There has been a\nuniversal, orderly growth,--what we name \"Evolution.\"  And it is learned\nthat all mental phenomena, so far as we can explore them, stand in some\nclose relation to a physical basis in the brain, and to a train of\nphysical antecedents.\n\nAnd now the men who have come up by the path of this knowledge stand face\nto face with the men who have been climbing in the path whose signboards\nare such as \"Duty,\" \"Worship,\" \"Aspiration;\" and the question arises, Do\nour paths lie henceforth together, or do they separate, and is the one\nparty losing its travel?\n\n\nPerhaps the best example of the union of the two pursuits in one man is\ngiven by Benjamin Franklin.\n\nFranklin worked out, through a very genuine, homely, and personal\nexperience, the conviction that _moral perfection_ is the only true aim.\nHe reached this conviction while still a young man, and in the main tenor\nof his life he was faithful to it.  He made no vaunt of his religion,\nfounded no sect, gave his words and deeds chiefly to practical affairs;\nand perhaps few guessed, until at the close of his life he told his own\nstory with consummate charm, that the secret motive and mainspring of his\nlife had been the same that animates the saints and saviors,--the thirst\nfor moral perfection.  The motive and method had been hidden, but the\nresult had long been clear to the eyes of the whole world.  Franklin's\ncharacter was reverenced alike in the court of France and the farmhouses\nof Pennsylvania and New England.  To the Old World he seemed the heroic\nand coming man of the New World, side by side with Washington.  The\nVirginian embodied the highest traditional virtues of the race,\nself-mastery, patience, magnanimity, devotion to the common good; the\nPennsylvanian, if less called on for the heroic forms of antique virtue,\nadded to its substance new traits of wisdom, progress, and\nhappiness,--signs of a better age to be.\n\nMoral perfection was Franklin's secret and ruling principle.  But his\nlife was conspicuously engaged in the fields of science and of\nstatesmanship.  He was a leader in exploring the material world, skillful\nto trace its secrets, fertile to apply them to human use.  He was a\npioneer and founder of the new nation, projecting its union before others\nhad desired or dreamed of it; sharing in its first hazardous fortunes;\nwinning by his personal weight and wisdom the foreign alliance which\nturned the scale of victory; laying with the other master shipwrights the\nkeel and ribs of the new Constitution.  Moral perfection for himself,\nand, as the outcome to the world, not a new church or a theology or a\nmissionary enterprise, but a winning of the forces of nature to the\nservice of man, and a shaping of the social organism for the benefit of\nall.  That is the originality of Franklin,--that he carries the old moral\npurpose into the new fields of science and of social ordering.  His\ndesire for moral perfection and his confidence that the universe is\nordered rightly are not dependent on any visionary scheme of heaven and\nhell; they rest not on any doubtful argument; they bring sanction from no\ntransport mixed of soul and sense.  He walks firm on the solid earth.  He\nhas found for himself that goodness is the only thing that satisfies.\nThat this is an ordered universe comes home to him with every step of his\nstudy of actuality.  What need of a supernatural religion to a man who\nfinds religion in his own nature and in the nature of the world?\n\nSuch confidence and such purpose are as old as Socrates.  But come, now,\nlet us go where Socrates did not go; let us put the ideas of Jesus and\nPaul to some further application; let us use our freedom from pope and\ntyrant for some solid good!  And so he goes on, cheerfully and\ndelightedly, to question the thunder-cloud and make acquaintance with its\nwild steeds,--presently some one will put them in harness.  He is always\ninventing.  Now it is a stove, now it is a fire-brigade,--a public\nlibrary,--a post-office,--a Federal Union!  And be his invention smaller\nor greater, he takes out no patent, but tenders it freely into the common\nstock.\n\n\nThe prophets introducing this age are Carlyle and Emerson.  Carlyle sees\nthe disease--he convinces of sin.  Emerson sees the solution.  Carlyle\nreflects in his own troubled nature the disorder he portrays.  He is\nphysically unsound; his dyspepsia exaggerates to him the evils of the\nworld.  Emerson's disciplined and noble character mirrors the present and\neternal order, and forecasts its triumph.\n\nCarlyle and Emerson give two different phases of life as experienced.\nCarlyle gives the experience of good and evil,--the tremendous sanctions\nof right against wrong, wisdom against folly.  He is not triumphant, but\nhe is not hopeless.  \"Work, and despair not\" is to him \"the marching\nmusic of the Teutonic race.\"  Emerson, from the height of personal\nvictory, sees all as harmonious.  One shows the struggle up the mountain\npath, the other the view from the summit.\n\nCarlyle's gospel is summed up in \"_Work_, and despair not.\"  \"Work\" was\nhis own addition to Goethe's line.  \"Do the duty that lies nearest thee;\"\naction, as the escape from the puzzles of the intellect and the griefs of\nthe heart, is his special message.\n\nEmerson is a precursor of the day when \"No man shall say to his\nneighbors, Know ye the Lord, for all shall know him, from the least unto\nthe greatest.\"  He is the first of the prophets to rise above anxiety as\nto the success of his mission.  He lives his life, says his word, sheds\nhis light--concerned to be faithful, but wholly unanxious as to personal\nsuccess.\n\nAs the tribes of ancient Israel stood arrayed, the one half on Mount\nEbal, the other on Mount Gerizim,--the one to pronounce the blessing, the\nother to utter the curse,--so Emerson is like an embodied promise and\nCarlyle a perpetual warning.  In Emerson we see the hero triumphant and\nserene.  Carlyle shows him at close grips with the devil.  \"Pain, danger,\ndifficulty, steady slaving toil, shall in no wise be shirked by any\nbrightest mortal that will approve himself loyal to his mission in this\nworld; nay, precisely the higher he is the deeper will be the\ndisagreeableness, and the detestability to flesh and blood, of the tasks\nlaid on him; and the heavier, too, and more tragic, his penalties if he\nneglect them.\"\n\n\nThe background for Emerson is the life of early New England.  The secret\nof New England's greatness was the combination from the first of the\nprofoundest interest in man's spiritual destiny with the closest grip on\nhomely facts.\n\nIn Calvinism, and in Christianity, the universe was at eternal war within\nitself; this was man's projection upon the world of his own moral\nconflict.  Emerson sees the universe as a harmony.  Many influences have\ncontributed to this idea; it becomes distinct and vivid in a man whose\nown life is a moral harmony.  Himself truly a cosmos, he recognizes the\nanswering tokens of the greater cosmos.\n\nThe religious sentiment had become so inwoven with institutions, creeds,\nusages, conventionalisms,--each man believing because his neighbors do,\nor his father did,--that it was necessary to take a new observation.\nWhat says the heart of man at its highest?  For this Emerson is singled\nout; for him an ancestry is trained through generations; he is drawn\napart from the church, set aside from government and all institutional\nwork; practical functions are denied him; he is made an eye,--an organ of\npure vision.\n\nTo him God is not afar off but in himself.  The heart in its own purity,\ntenderness, and strength recognizes the Divine Presence.  \"The soul gives\nitself, alone, original, and pure, to the Lonely, Original, and Pure,\nwho, on that condition, gladly inhabits, leads, and speaks through it.\"\nThe order of physical nature is the symbol and the instrument of a moral\norder.  The beauty and sublimity of nature are the manifestation through\nsense of the Divine Reality.\n\nSo high a revelation can come at first only to souls which in their\ngreatness are isolated, as the highest mountain peaks stand alone in the\nearliest sunbeams.  It is for a later time to fit such truth to all the\nconditions of human life, to fully assimilate it with older lessons, to\nweave it into the warp and woof of society.\n\nIt is Emerson, child of the Puritan and disciple of the new knowledge, in\nwhom joy is most abiding--its roots are in faithful living, brave and\nhigh thinking, the spirit of love, oneness with nature and humanity.\n\nEmerson dwells in an ideal yet real world.  He cannot give the password\nthat will certainly admit; inheritance and temperament must contribute to\nthat.  But he sees that one principle is the rightful sovereign in his\ninner world and in the universe,--allegiance to highest known law.  It is\na sublimation of the idea familiar to the religious mind, but he gives it\na new and larger interpretation; for, in place of the written Word,\nbeyond the social and civic obligation, greater than the accepted\nmoralities, superseding the ecclesiastical virtues, wider than the\noverworked altruism of Christianity, is the complete ideal of Man, from\nhis roughest force to his finest perception.\n\nTalk about duty had become wearisome.  \"Thou shalt not preach!\" says\nEmerson.  So he discourses as the observer of man and nature, and bids\nmen to look at realities.\n\nHis imitators were beguiled into a theoretical exposition of the\nuniverse.  A sense of thinness and unreality accompanies much of their\ntalk, because it is not, like Emerson's, in constant touch with active\nduty and fresh observation.\n\nHis ideal includes worship, but to this he brings above all the quality\nof sincerity.  He will not observe a sacrament which has lost its\nsignificance to him.  He will not use language of a personal God which is\nnot natural to him, nor affirm a certainty as to immortality when his\nconviction is not always clear.  But he has the profoundest sense and the\nsimplest expression of that reality which we call \"the presence of God in\nman.\"  In him it is not involved with miracle or metaphysic; it is a\npersonal experience, the source of humility, energy, and peace.  \"I\nrecognize the distinction of the outer and inner self; the double\nconsciousness that within this erring, passionate, mortal self sits a\nsupreme, calm, immortal mind, whose powers I do not know, but it is\nstronger than I; it is wiser than I; it never approved me in any wrong; I\nseek counsel of it in my doubts; I repair to it in my dangers; I pray to\nit in my undertakings.  It seems to me the face which the Creator\nuncovers to his child.\"\n\nEmerson represents thought in its highest form--perception, vision.  The\nworld interpreted by such vision supplies motive, support, and rapture.\nHe is essentially and above all a poet, and to whoever can follow him he\nopens a celestial world in which the homeliest earthly fact is irradiated\nby indwelling divinity.\n\nEmerson's escape from evil is by rising to such a height of contemplation\nthat evil is seen as only an element of good.  He sits like an\nastronomer, viewing the procession of the worlds in their sublime\nharmony.  For most men, the jar and dust of daily life largely shut out\nthat glorious view.  They catch hope and strength from the voice of the\nseer upon his heights.  But they need other help; they need some one by\ntheir side; they need the love of a stronger brother, who takes their\nhand.  This men found in Jesus the friend of sinners, who went about\ndoing good; they idealized it as Christ--a divinity who took upon him the\nform of a servant.  The higher stooping to the lower is still the world's\nsalvation.\n\n\nIn teaching, Emerson generalized for all men from his own experience.  He\nsaid, \"Be yourself!  Follow the law of your own nature.  Trust the\nall-moving Spirit.  Be above convention and rule, above vulgarities and\ninsipidities.  Give way to the God within you!\"\n\nLiterally obeyed, it was insufficient advice for most men, for it ignored\nwhat Emerson's modesty forbade him to recognize,--the vast difference\nbetween his own nature and bent and that of most men.  When ordinary men\nand women tried to imitate him the result was sometimes a lamentable\nfailure.  But _he_ was genuine and lofty always.  He failed in no homely\nduty.  The great trial and discipline to him was the alternation in\nhimself of the commonplace with the high.  In individuals he was forever\ndisappointed, always looking for heroes, saints, and saviors, and seldom\nfinding them.  His own work bore little visible fruit; his own teaching\nfell for a long time on scornful ears.  This perpetual disappointment he\ntook with perpetual constancy, always serene under disappointment,\ngracious to the dull, indifferent to fame, careless of his own obscurity.\nThe typical man of letters has his own besetting sins,--neglect of homely\nduties, self-consciousness, vanity,--from all of which Emerson was free.\n\nThe faults we allege against his philosophy--its scanty recognition of\nsin and sorrow--were the natural incidents of his character and work.\nThey do not debase, though they sometimes limit, his influence for good;\nhis is always the speech of an angel; it strengthens, uplifts, gladdens\nus.  There are other angels to whom we must listen,--others, perhaps, who\nspeak more nearly the speech of our own experience,--but his music always\nchords with theirs.\n\nIn Emerson, a soul inheriting centuries of Catholic and Puritan training,\nuntil obedience was its instinct and purity its native atmosphere,--a\nsoul endowed with genius,--spread its wings and flew with the suddenness\nand joy of a young bird's first flight.  He saw good everywhere, beauty\neverywhere, and was glad with the gladness of a seer and savior.  He is\none of those of whom he speaks, as belonging to a better world which is\nyet to come, and who touch us with a sense of a heaven on which we are\njust beginning to enter.\n\nThough he professes an idealist philosophy, and that way of thinking can\nbe traced in all his writings, he never makes of it a creed or dogma.\nHis children are welcome to worship in the church which has lost its\nattraction for him.  The skeptic may freely question immortality,--nay,\nEmerson himself sometimes feels uncertainty.  The personal God, and man's\npersonal immortality, which the idealist is wont to affirm as definite\ncertainties, Emerson will not explicitly avow or define.  Universal good,\nbeauty, order,--these he sees, feels, is sure of.  What form belongs to\nthem, let each imagine as best he can.  So free, so generous, so simply\ntrue is he that not only men of an idealist way of thinking, but all\nstrong and high souls own impulse from him,--the scientist, the\npositivist, the churchman.\n\nHis distinctive note is not self-abnegation, but it is the note which\nwith that makes a perfect harmony.  Joy in God and self-sacrificing love\nare the two wings of the angelic life.  Long have the preachers taught\nself-sacrifice,--now let one child of God sing the joy of God!\n\n\nThe latest chapter in the story of the higher life is the conception of\nman and the world which has grown up under the influence of modern\nscience.  The most original and effective expression of this philosophy\nis given by Herbert Spencer.  What new light does the evolutionary\nphilosophy throw on man's chief problem, the right conduct of his own\nlife?\n\nFirst, it defines with clearness two great forces which bear on the\nindividual life, as Heredity and Environment.  Next, it defines the ideal\nto be sought, by reaffirming in substance the familiar conception of\nhuman morality, showing its sanctions on purely natural grounds, and\ngiving new applications and extensions of its principles.  And finally,\ncompared with the traditional theology, it leads to a new conception of\nthe relation between man and the higher power, and necessitates, what\nSpencer does not supply, a new expression of the religious life.\n\nThe discovery of Darwin, supplying the final link to the growing proofs\nof the evolutionary development of man, opened an amazing panorama of the\npast history of the planet's inhabitants.  The predecessors and\nsuccessors of Darwin added to the panorama one after another scene of\nwonder.  The standpoint of thought seemed wholly changed, and a\nreadjustment necessary which threatened overthrow to all the old creeds\nand standards.  Spencer, who has been the most successful in generalizing\nthe new knowledge, comes back to the inquiry, By what law shall man guide\nhis own conduct?  His answer is substantially a reaffirmation of the\nprinciples which good men have acknowledged for many ages.  Whatever else\nis changed, it remains true that justice, fidelity, chastity, honor,\nregard for others, are man's safest guides and his lawful rulers.\nAltruism is only a new word for the golden rule.  But the advance of\nsociety has brought wider and finer applications: the claim of the whole\ncommunity comes closer home; the principles which have been recognized\nwithin the church and the neighborhood must be carried on to reshape\ninstitutions, industries, the whole social organism.\n\nThe moral idea is thus reaffirmed and extended, but how can man attain\nthat ideal?  By using his free will, said the Stoic.  By the grace of God\nobtained through prayer, said the Christian.  Is man then free, or is he\nthe passive creature of a greater power, and of what nature is that\npower?  Now, where theologians have sought to define the Deity, and to\nconceive his government of his creatures in terms of a personal affection\nand will, scientists, contenting themselves with observation of facts,\nhave shown that each man is what he is and does what he does partly\nbecause of what his parents and remoter ancestors were and did before\nhim, and partly because of the forces of climate, institutions,\neducation, companionship, event, which surround him from his birth to his\ngrave.  Heredity and Environment, these are\n\n        \"the hands\n  That reach through Nature, moulding Man.\"\n\n\nIt looks at first as if the old dispute between free will and necessity\nwere settled at last, and man were indeed a creature of inscrutable fate.\nYet, in the very act of acknowledging certain ideals of character as\ndesirable, we become conscious of an impulse and initial effort--call it\nautomatic or call it voluntary--toward attaining those ideals.  As a\nmatter of practice, we speedily recognize that both Heredity and\nEnvironment are in a degree under human control.  If they are deities,\nthey are accessible to prayers, the prayers which are watchfulness and\nobedience.  Man is always at work to better the environment of himself\nand his fellows.  As he sees more clearly that his true good is character\nand the noble self, he shapes his environment more intelligently and\nresolutely to that end.  As to heredity, while the individual is\npowerless over his own lot, he is in a degree potential over those who\nare to succeed him.  The conception of duty is enlarged by the\nobligations of marriage and parenthood, in a wise selection and\nthoughtful care for the future offspring.\n\nHeredity and Environment, then, are partly the servants of man.  Yet\nlargely they are his lords and masters.  In a degree, but only in a\ndegree, do we make ourselves what we are.  And while the degree of that\nself-determining power can never be known, we learn to be charitable\ntoward others and exacting toward ourselves.\n\nThe new philosophy has its chief bearing on conduct, not in abstract\nconceptions about fate, free will, and responsibility, but in the\nstimulus it gives to find new tools and weapons of moral achievement.\nHow shall we make men good?  No longer by the mere appeal to reason; no\nlonger mainly by promise of heaven and threat of hell.  Still appealing\nto reason, to hope and fear, to imagination, we must go on to put about\nmen all stimulating influences, all guiding appliances.  We must begin in\nthe formative stage.  The hope of the future is in the child; we must\neducate the child by putting him in true touch with realities,--realities\nof form, color, and number; of plant and animal life; of play and\npleasure; of imagination; of sympathetic companionship; of a miniature\nsociety; of a firm yet gentle government.  The education must go on\nthrough youth, and must introduce him to industry not as drudgery but as\nfine achievement.  So of every phase of humanity.  The criminal is to be\nmet not with mere penalty but with remedial treatment.  In the sordid\nquarter must be planted a settlement which shall radiate true\nneighborhood.  The state must be so ordered as best to promote the\nmaterial good and the essential manhood of its citizens.  The church must\nserve some distinct purpose--of ethical guidance, of emotional uplift, of\nsocial service--in character-building.  Such are the forces to which we\nnow are turning.  Where ancient philosophy appealed through the lecturer\nat his desk, where Christianity sent its missionary to proclaim a faith,\nor set its priest to celebrate mass, or its minister to preach a\nsermon,--in place of these partial resources we now realize that every\nnormal activity of humanity is to serve in building up man, and that \"the\ntrue church of God is organized human society.\"\n\nThe church of God,--but has man a God?  There is, says Spencer, some\ninscrutable power from which all this vast procedure springs; its nature\nwe know not and cannot know.  The thought of it moves us to wonder and\nawe,--and this is the legitimate satisfaction of the religious sense.\nAnd here it is that his philosophy utterly fails to satisfy.  Yet it\nmarks the passing away of the attempt to interpret Deity in terms of\nexact knowledge.  Whatever form religion may hereafter wear, the old\nprecision of statement must be abandoned; the intellect must be more\nhumble.  And further, the Spencerian view is wholly different from\natheism.  It leaves the door open.  It recognizes that some supreme\nreality exists beyond and above man.  That reality is not intelligible to\nthe intellect which analyzes and generalizes.  But may it not be\napproachable through another side of man's nature,--accessible through\ngates like those by which one human spirit recognizes another human\nspirit?  The evolutionary philosophy, in an enlarged construction, raised\nno barrier against the access to divinity through the noblest exercise of\nhumanity.\n\nLive the personal life toward the highest ideals, with the faithfulest\nendeavor,--and peace, trust, hope, spring up in the soul.  So does man\nfind access to the supreme power; so does he find himself encompassed and\nupborne by it; so is he drawn into closest union with his\nfellow-creatures and with the divine source of all.  It is the old answer\nand the new; it is figured in the Hebrew's assurance that the Lord loveth\nthe righteous; it gives strength and courage to Epictetus; it inspires\nthe confidence of Jesus, the loving and holy soul finding its heavenly\nFather; it speaks with glad voice in Emerson,--\"contenting himself with\nobedience, man becomes divine.\"\n\nThe essential truth is old, but in our day it is being disencumbered of\nthe husk of myth and dogma which obscured it; while by the growth of new\npowers and finer sensibilities in man his access to highest reality\nbecomes more intimate.\n\nAs the evolutionary philosophy has already reaffirmed, clarified, and\nenriched the moral life, so, blending with the clearest interpretation of\nman's deepest experience, it is to reaffirm, purify, and deepen the\nreligious life.\n\n\nOne disciple of Spencer has applied herself with great genius and art to\ncreative fiction.  George Eliot is a thorough Spencerian, and she is\nconstantly, effectively, almost with over-insistence, a moralist.  Life\nmay be ruined by self-indulgence,--that is her perpetual theme.  Of wide\nrange and variety, she is powerful above all in picturing the appeal of\ntemptation, the gradual surrender, the fatal consequence.  Shakspere does\nnot show the inner springs of the fall of Macbeth or Angelo so clearly as\nshe shows the catastrophe of Arthur Donnithorne, of Tito Melema, of\nGwendolen Harleth.  Readers from whom the threat of hell would fall off\nas an old wife's tale, feel the dark power of reality in the mischief\nwhich dogs each of her wrong-doers.  More scantly, and with growing\ninfrequence, there are scenes of a natural gospel of redemption and\nsalvation,--Hetty reached in her misery by the Christian love of Dinah,\nSilas Marner won back to happiness by the little child, Gwendolen saved\nfrom her selfishness through dire disaster and a strong man's help.\n\nThe prevailing atmosphere of George Eliot's later books is sad, and the\nsadness deepens as they go on.  A labored, over-strenuous tone increases;\nthe style loses in simplicity and is overburdened with reflection.  The\nnote of struggle is everywhere present, and shuts out repose, freedom,\njoy.  The sensitive reader can hardly escape an undertone of\nsuggestion,--yes, life must be made the best of, but it seems scarcely\nworth the cost.  Is it the entire absence of any outlook beyond this life\nwhich makes the gloom of the later works?  Yet this seems only partially\nto explain.  One seeks inevitably the clew to the writing in the life.\nGeorge Eliot's story as a woman is an open one.  She took as her life\ncompanion a man who was legally united to another woman.  Her\njustification apparently was that they were suited to each other, and\nthat with the support of this mutual tie they could best do their work.\nStated in plain terms, the moral question involved seems hardly to admit\nof any debate.  There is no more vital point in social morality than the\nrelation of the sexes, and George Eliot's own teaching reverts most often\nto this topic, and always with its emphasis on restraint.  Her actual\ncourse assumed that the established and accepted law of society may be\nset aside by a man and woman upon their own judgment that their need of\neach other is paramount to the social law.  A position more contradictory\nto her avowed principles could hardly be stated.  It was no new claim of\nimmunity; it had been professed and preached, especially on the\nContinent, with results patent to all, of the subversion of social\nfoundations; it marks the especial danger-point of a time of swiftly\nchanging standards.  It is impossible not to feel that her course was a\nprecedent and example in flat contradiction of the teaching she so\nassiduously gave.  Doubtless she persuaded herself she was right, but\nsuch persuasion must have involved, the most dangerous sophistication\nwhich besets man in his groping struggle,--a claim by a leader for\nexemption from the common obligation on the plea that his welfare (that\nis, his comfort) is especially necessary for the good of mankind.  As one\nreads George Eliot's pages with her own story in mind, the shadows are\nheavy.  In the over-active, restless reflections, one feels the working\nof a mind incessantly exercised by its own self-defense.  The suggestion\ncomes to us of a nature which has lavished all its energies on thinking,\nand lacked strength for living, and so has failed of that vision which\ncomes not from thought but from life.  The cramping horizon, the low sky,\nthe earthly limit within which love saddens and hope dies,--all seem to\nbespeak that loss of truest touch with the universe which comes when one\nis not true in act to the law he acknowledges.  The sense of a tragedy in\nherself, more pathetic than any she has depicted, touches us with awe,\nwith tenderness, with compunctious thought of our own failures.  We are\n\"purified by terror and by pity.\"\n\n\nThe largest wisdom and the finest insight of our age are blended in\nTennyson's \"In Memoriam.\"  Written half a century ago, its truth not less\nthan its beauty stands unshaken by the later thought and knowledge.\nAntedating the work of Darwin and Spencer, it accepts the principles of\nEvolution.  Its atmosphere is wholly modern.  It is pervaded by the\nsentiment of Christian faith, but it does not lean for support on dogma\nor miracle.  The difficulties it encounters are neither the terror in the\nold view of the hereafter nor the problems incident to the supernatural\ntheology.  The poet stands before the amazing spectacle of nature as seen\nby science, beholding along with its prodigal beauty its appalling\ndestruction and its unswerving march.  It is no longer hell, but\nextinction, which seems to threaten man.\n\nThe intellectual problem of the universe is faced, but the medium through\nwhich it is seen is the experience of a human heart filled by a sacred\nlove and then struck by bereavement.  It is the old, typical, deepest\nexperience of man,--love confronted by death.\n\nThe poem moves like a symphony, weaving together requiem, cradle-song,\nbattle-march, and psalm, to a consummation of tender and majestic peace.\nAs the recurrent theme which governs the whole may be taken this:---\n\n  \"How pure at heart and sound in head,\n    With what divine affection bold,\n    Should be the man whose thoughts would hold\n  An hour's communion with the dead.\"\n\nThese are the conditions,--fidelity, sanity, divinely bold affections;\nthis is the fruition, the sense of a mystic communion with the unseen\nfriend.\n\nOne passage gives the reconciliation between the evolutionary view of the\nuniverse and a divine possibility for the individual.  The evolutionary\nprocess of nature is regarded as the type of the development of the\nsoul:---\n\n  \"Contemplate all this work of Time,\n    The giant laboring in his youth;\n    Nor dream of human love and truth,\n  As dying Nature's earth and lime;\n\n  \"But trust that those we call the dead\n    Are breathers of an ampler day\n    For ever nobler ends.  They say,\n  The solid earth whereon we tread\n\n  \"In tracts of fluent heat began,\n    And grew to seeming-random forms,\n    The seeming prey of cyclic storms,\n  Till at the last arose the man;\n\n  \"Who throve and branched from clime to clime,\n    The herald of a higher race,\n    And of himself in higher place,\n  If so he type this work of time\n\n  \"Within himself, from more to more;\n    Or, crowned with attributes of woe\n    Like glories, move his course, and show\n  That life is not as idle ore,\n\n  \"But iron dug from central gloom,\n    And heated hot with burning fears,\n    And dipt in baths of hissing tears,\n  And battered with the shocks of doom\n\n  \"To shape and use.  Arise and fly\n    The reeling Faun, the sensual feast;\n    Move upward, working out the beast,\n  And let the ape and tiger die.\"\n\n\nThus do the moral purpose and the immortal hope define themselves in the\nterms of the new philosophy.  How are they related to the terms of the\nold religion?  The poet's attitude toward the historic Christ is wholly\nreverent.  Incidents of the gospel story are vivified by a creative\nimagination.  But Christ is no longer an isolated historic fact; he is\nthe symbol of all divine influence and celestial presence,--\"the Christ\nthat is to be.\"  The resurrection story is reverently touched, but it is\nnot upon this as a proof or argument that the poet dwells in regaining\nhis lost friend under a higher relation.  That experience is to him\npersonal, at first hand.  His comfort is not solely that in some future\nheaven he shall rejoin his Arthur.  The beloved one comes to him now in\nmoments of highest consciousness; associated profoundly, mysteriously,\nvitally, with the fairest aspects of nature, with the loftiest purposes\nof the will, with the most sympathetic regard of all fellow creatures.\n\nIn the experience which is supremely voiced in \"In Memoriam,\" but which\nis also recorded in many an utterance which the attentive ear may\ndiscern, we recognize this: that the sense of the risen Christ which\ninspired his disciples and founded the church was in truth an\ninstance--clad in imaginative, pictorial form--of what proves to be an\nabiding law of human nature--the vivid realization of the continued and\nhigher existence of a noble and beloved life.\n\nWe may believe that in the progress of the race this faculty is being\ndeveloped.  In its first emergence it was confused by crude\nmisinterpretations.  A single instance of it was for two thousand years\nconstrued as a unique event, the reversal of ordinary procedure, and the\nbasis of a supernatural religion.  Now at last we correlate it with other\nexperiences, and interpret it as a part of the universal order.\n\nTennyson expresses that present heaven which is sometimes revealed to the\nsoul:--\n\n  \"Strange friend, past, present, and to be;\n    Loved deeplier, darklier understood;\n    Behold, I dream a dream of good,\n  And mingle all the world with thee.\n\n  \"Thy voice is on the rolling air;\n    I hear thee where the waters run;\n    Thou standest in the rising sun,\n  And in the setting thou art fair.\n\n  \"What art thou, then?  I cannot guess;\n    But though I seem in star and flower\n    To feel thee some diffusive power,\n  I do not therefore love thee less:\n\n  \"My love involves the love before;\n    My love is vaster passion now;\n    Though mixed with God and Nature thou,\n  I seem to love thee more and more.\n\n  \"Far off thou art, but ever nigh;\n    I have thee still, and I rejoice;\n    I prosper, circled with thy voice;\n  I shall not lose thee though I die.\"\n\n\nTwo men beyond all others in America have interpreted the higher life.\nEmerson revealed it through the medium of thought, beauty, and joy.\nLincoln showed it in action, sympathy, and suffering.\n\nLincoln had the deepest cravings of love, of ambition, and of religion.\nHis love brought him first to bereavement which shook his reason, then to\nthe daily tragedy of an unhappy marriage.  His ambition--he said when he\nentered his contest with Douglas--had proved \"a failure, a flat failure.\"\nIn his crude youth he exulted in the rejection of Christianity; then he\nfelt the pressure of life's problems, and was powerless before them.  He\ncould believe only what was proved,--all beyond was a sad mystery.  He\nbore himself for many years with honesty, kindness, humor, sadness, and\ninfinite patience.  He did not for a while rise to the perception of the\nhighest truth in politics, but he was faithful to what he did see.  He\nlived in closest contact with ordinary men and knew them thoroughly.  His\ntraining was as a lawyer and a politician.  This brought him in touch\nwith the every-day actuality and all its hard and mean facts.  He was\ndisciplined in that attempt to reach justice under a code of laws which\nis the practical administration of society, distinct from the idealist's\nvision of perfection.\n\nThe time came when in the new birth of politics he rose to the perception\nof a great moral principle,--the nation's duty toward slavery.  At the\nsame time, his ambition again saw its opportunity.  He had a strong man's\nlove of power, but he deliberately subordinated his personal success to\nhis convictions when he risked and lost the fight with Douglas for the\nsenatorship by the \"house-divided-against-itself\" speech.\n\nIn the anxious interval between his election and inauguration, he went\nthrough, as he said long afterward, \"a process of crystallization,\"--a\nreligious consecration.  He made no talk about it, but all his words and\nacts thenceforth show a selfless, devoted temper.\n\nHe bore incalculable burdens and perplexities for the sake of the people.\nHe met the vast complication of forces which mix in politics and war--the\nselfishness, hatred, meanness, triviality, along with the higher\nelements--with the rarest union of shrewdness, flexibility, and\nsteadfastness.  His humor saved him from being crushed.  The atmosphere\nhe lived in permitted no illusions.  \"Politics,\" said he, \"is the art of\ncombining individual meannesses for the general good.\"\n\nHe came to the sense of a divine purpose in which he had a part.  He grew\nin charity, in sympathy, in wisdom.  His private griefs, such as the\ndeath of his boy, deepened his nature.  He bore burdens beyond\nHamlet's,--a temperament prone to melancholy, the death of the woman he\nloved, a wife who was little comfort, an ambition which long found no\nfruition and no adequate field, a baffled gaze into life's mystery; then\nthe responsibility of a nation in its supreme crisis, and the sense of\nthe nation's woe.  Through it all he held fast the clew of moral fidelity.\n\nA lover of peace, he was forced to be captain in a terrible war.  \"You\nknow me, Voorhees,\" he said to an old friend; \"I can't bear to cut off\nthe head of a chicken, and here I stand among rivers of blood!\"\n\nUnder overwhelming perplexities and responsibilities, amid a ceaseless\ndrain on his sympathies, he learned and practiced a higher fidelity and\ndeeper trust.  At the outset was \"the process of crystallization;\" at the\nend came \"malice toward none, charity for all,\" \"fidelity to the right as\nGod gives us to see the right.\"  At last the sunrise of the nation's new\nday shone full upon him.  Then suddenly, painlessly, he passed into the\nmystery beyond.  He was loved by his people as they never loved any other\nman.  The world prizes its happy souls, but it takes to its inmost heart\nhim who is faithful in darkness.\n\n\n\n[1] Jowett's translation.\n\n[2] I have followed George Long's translation of Epictetus.\n\n[3] In the language of Renan: \"By this word [supernatural] I always mean\nthe _special_ supernatural act, miracle, or the divine intervention for a\nparticular end; not the general supernatural force, the hidden Soul of\nthe Universe, the ideal, source, and final cause of all movements in the\nsystem of things.\"\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nGLIMPSES\n\nThe virtue of truth-seeking is a modern growth.  The love of\nspeculative truth, indeed, shines far back in antiquity, in individuals\nor in little companies.  But the truth-seeking quality has had its\nspecial training through the pursuits of physical science.  The\nachievements of three centuries in this direction have been made under\nthe constant necessity of attention to reality, at whatever cost to\nprepossession or desire.  Watchfulness, patience, self-correction are\nthe requisites.  There is the discipline of what Huxley calls \"the\nperpetual tragedy of science,--the slaying of a beautiful theory by an\nugly fact.\"  This courage, patience, humility of the intellect, long\nexercised on secondary problems, wrought into habitual and accepted\ntraits of the explorer, are called on at last to face the direst\nordeal.  The human mind confronts the question, \"Are my dearest faith\nand love and hope based on reality?\"  To face that question, and face\nit through; to yield to no despondency, however dark the answer; to\nhold sometimes the best attainable answer, whether of affirmation or\ndenial, as only provisional, and wait for further light, whether it\ncome now or in a remote future, whether it come to him or to some\nother,--this measures the greatness of the human spirit.\n\nIt is in this respect that our moral standards, compared with those of\nChristendom for eighteen hundred years, have in a sense undergone not\nmerely a development but reversal.  In that passage upon charity in\nwhich the genius of early Christianity wings its highest flight, one\nnote alone wakes no response in us.  \"Charity beareth all things,\nhopeth all things, endureth all things.\"  Amen!  But at \"believeth all\nthings\" we draw back.  For us, the word must read \"proveth all things.\"\n\nSo long as moral obligation was based solely on the sanction of a\nsupernatural world; so long as the condemnation of murder and theft and\nadultery was supposed to rest on the fact that God gave two tables of\nstone to Moses; so long as brotherhood and hope and trust ascribed\ntheir charter to an incarnate Deity,--so long a _belief_ in the charter\nand its history seemed the first requirement, the necessary condition\nof morality.  But to the modern mind the first and great commandment is\nto see things as they are.  The foundation of our morality, our\nhappiness if we are to be happy, our trust and worship if we are to\nhave a trust and worship,--in any event, our rule of life, our guide\nand law,--must be, _follow the truth_.  No sect monopolizes that\nprinciple.  It was orthodox old Nathaniel Taylor who used to bid his\nstudents, \"Go with the truth, if it takes you over Niagara!\"\n\nThe question presents itself to man: \"Is the Power that rules the\nuniverse friendly to me?\"  It certainly does not offer the kind of\nfriendship which man instinctively asks.  It does not give the\nfriendship which saves from pain, which insures ease, pleasure,\nunchecked delight.  Not an indulgent mother, certainly.\n\nThe starting-point for getting the question truly answered must be a\npractical acceptance of the highest rule and ideal known to man.\nAccepting that and following it, he rises higher and higher.  He feels\nhimself in some inward accord with the moving forces of the universe.\nThe prime requisite is for him to obey, to do the right, be the heavens\nkindly or hostile or indifferent.  Just so, long before man knew\nanything of the general laws of nature, he planted and reaped,\nstruggled for food and clothing, took care for himself,--he must do\nlong before he comprehends.  So he must work righteousness and love,\nGod or no God.  And in the summoning voice within him, the play upon\nhim of powers forever urging him to choose the right,--powers to which\nhe grows more and more sensitive as his effort is earnest,--in this he\ncomes to recognize some reality which has to him more significance and\nimpressiveness than any other thing in the world.\n\nThe working principle of the modern mind is that the universe is\norderly.  Everything has its place and meaning.  Man discerns in his\npersonal life this much of clear meaning, that he is to strive toward\nthe noblest ideal.  As he accepts that, the conviction comes home to\nhim that in the highest sense the universe is friendly, for it is\nattracting, urging, compelling him to the realization of his highest\ndreams.\n\n\nThe highest intellect is always serene.  Shakspere and Emerson stand at\nthe summit of human thought and vision; unlike as they are, both view\nthe spectacle of life with an intense interest, and a great though\nsober cheer.  If we analyze the elements which Shakspere portrays, we\nmight incline to judge that the sadness outweighs the joy.  But the\nimpression left by his pages is somehow not sad.  Some deeper spirit\nunderlies and penetrates.  Back of Lear's heartbreak, Hamlet's\nbewilderment, Othello's despair, we feel some presence which upholds\nour courage.  It is the mind of the writer, so lofty and wise that it\nis not daunted by all the terrors it beholds, and which conveys to us\nits own calm.\n\n\nIn a like mood, we may often look for ourselves on the drama of real\nlife, profoundly stirred by its comedies and tragedies, but not\noverwhelmed,--least overwhelmed when our sight is clearest.\n\nThe sense of assurance--not of mere safety from special harm, but the\nuplift of some unspeakable divine reality--comes in presence of the\ngrandest scenes of nature,--mountain or ocean or sunset.  They supply\nan external image, answering to some faculty in the soul.  And when\nthrough failure of sense or spirit the vision is obscured, the soul\nbecomes conscious in itself of that to which mountain and ocean are but\nservants,--the reserve power to endure and to conquer which springs to\nlife at the stern challenge.\n\nThe deepest assurance comes not as an intellectual view nor as an\nimpression from the sublimities of nature.  It is the outcome of the\nseverest conflicts and the heaviest trials.  We cannot explain the\nprocess, but we see in others or feel in ourselves this: that out of\nthe hardest struggle in which we have held our ground comes the deepest\npeace.  What serenity is to the intellectual life, that to the moral\nlife is this \"peace which passeth understanding,\" this blending of\ngladness and love.  It is not a passive condition, but of the highest\npotential energy,--the parent of all great achievements and patient\nfidelities.\n\n\nThe soul learns to draw courage, trust, joy, and hope from its resolute\nencounter with realities, without leaning on any explanation.  It is\nthe onlooker only who despairs.  Literature, so much the work of\non-lookers, exaggerates the depression.  Men of action, toilers,\nhelpers, fathers, mothers, saints,--these do not despair.  The world as\na whole, and the best part of the world, lives a life of action,\nfeeling, exercise of every faculty,--which generates courage, strength,\ntenderness.  Under all the confusion and wrong, there are still the\ndeep springs of that same experience, that \"peace of God\" which always\nfed the highest life.\n\nThere is an experience sometimes felt of perfect assurance, peace, and\njoy.  It is \"love which casteth out fear,\"--the sense of being \"God's\nchild;\" it is communion with the Highest.\n\nThis is the heart of religion.  It is known to \"babes and sucklings,\"\nunknown to many otherwise very learned people.  It speaks with an\nabsolute authority the message of love and peace, of joy and hope.\n\nThe mind is wont to clothe this message in some crude form, which\nserves to convey it to others, but is like the alloy which makes the\npure gold workable, yet debases it.\n\nThis gladness of the spirit was the gospel of Jesus.  He had it as no\none ever had it before.  His followers caught it.  They debased,\nnecessarily, but they spread it.  They worshiped it in him, made him\ntheir leader, master, and finally their God.  They loved him as a\npresent reality, while they treasured the record of his human words.\nIn such exaltation, like the intoxication of a heavenly wine, the\nuntrained mind is creative in its ecstasy; hence the beautifully\nconceived and easily believed stories of announcing angels, miracles of\nhealing, bodily resurrection.\n\nThen came a long development of dogma and church,--much of obscuration,\nmuch of degeneracy.  Through it all survived the truths that love is\nsupreme, and that the law of life is goodness sublimed to holiness.\n\nThe revivals of religions have been the rediscovery of the glad truth,\nfreed each time from some accompanying error.\n\nThe discovery of Luther was that the soul's life in God was possible\noutside of the Catholic church.  Others had found this, too, but he\nmade it a militant truth, and successfully revolted.\n\nCalvinism was partly a reversion; its emphasis on sovereignty was\ntyrannical, but it trained the mind in exact and intense thought.\n\nFox, after long searchings amid sects and parties, made the new\ndiscovery again,--God's spirit given directly, freely to man!  Hence a\nsort of intoxication in the early Quaker, sobering to a sweet religion.\n\nAlways, in the various churches,--Roman, English, Genevan,\nLutheran,--was something of the divine fire, though often hidden and\nchoked.\n\nIn the Wesleys, the saving and seeking love of Christ was the form the\nrevival took; and with this went \"free grace,\" as against fatalism\nwhich crushed the will.\n\nEdwards had something of the love-element, but it was fettered by his\nCalvinism.  His main service was to stimulate religious thought, which,\nfrom a Calvinistic basis, worked out through Hopkins to Channing.\n\nThe revival in Liberal Orthodoxy is essentially a recognition of the\ntrue character of Jesus, and an idealization and enthronement of this\nas the sovereign ideal, with a clinging as yet to the supernatural\nbasis, which inevitably grows weaker.\n\nMeanwhile, new \"ways into the Infinite\" have been opened,--through\nnature, as by Wordsworth; through humanity by Emerson.\n\nScience has swept away the whole supernatural machinery with which this\ninner life of the soul has been connected in men's minds.  It finds\neverywhere order, growth, a present rooted in the past and flowering\ninto the future.  Opening immense vistas for the race, it sometimes\nseems to shrivel the individual to a transient atom.\n\nBut still there wells up in the heart of man the mysterious, profound,\nirresistible gladness in its Divine source,--the love that casts out\nfear.  We may look at it soberly, assign it place, limit it in a way;\nit can no longer give us a cosmogony, but unimpaired is its message,\n\"Obey and rejoice!\"  We correlate its impulse with the sense of moral\nobligation and the code of ethics which has grown up in the world's\nsober experience.  We learn to cultivate the religious sense more\nwisely than of old.  We make bodily health its minister.  We administer\nand reorganize civil society, instead of confining ourselves to the\nchurch.  We open our hearts to the revelation of nature and humanity.\nAnd we wait patiently the slow coming of the Kingdom; the slow growth\nof religion in our own character; the slow upbuilding of human\nsocieties.\n\nSide by side with this slow process lies always the present heaven into\nwhich at times the soul enters and finds perfect peace,--a peace which\nembraces past, present, and future, time and eternity.  We study and\npractice obedience, diligence, patience; and at unforeseen moments,\nunder shocks or in highest tranquillity, comes the divine revelation.\n\nThe belief that the perfect life had actually been lived by Christ was\na help to men whose aspiration felt itself unsuccessful,--the very\nheight of the aspiration deepening the sense of failure.  The mind\nfastened on an actual and perfect goodness outside of itself.  The\nStoic ideal kept a man self-watchful, giving him no higher personality\nto look up to.  There was in Christianity the feeling that the perfect\nlife has been lived, and this somehow may help to save me.  This was\nthe core of the Atonement.  All theories of it--ransom, substitution,\nand the like--were intellectual explanations of the fact of experience.\n\nForgiveness is the soul's delighted sense that its sin is not mortal.\nIt comes only after sin has been felt as a burden.  Conscious of\nwrong-doing, man feels helpless and even accursed,--imagines or credits\nstories of a fall, of measureless guilt, and an endless hell.  What\ngives poignancy to these ideas is the real sense of wrong-doing, which\nprojects a monstrous and exaggerated shadow.\n\nThe sense of duty, constantly worked, breeds in sensitive souls the\ndespair of an unattainable perfection.  The outward ceremonial does not\nhelp or enrich,--the moral and spiritual ideal tantalizes by its\nimpossibility.  This happens even to the strenuously righteous.  In the\ngross wrong-doer, especially if he falls under the ban of society,\nthere is wrought a despair which probably expresses itself in a\nhardened recklessness.\n\nAmong these \"lost sheep\" came Jesus as a friend.  His love divined the\ndeeper soul within them,--its yearning for the good it had perhaps\nceased even to struggle for,--its untouched possibilities.  He said,\n\"Be of good cheer!  Thy sins be forgiven thee!  Go in peace!\"  At his\nword and touch, a new life sprang up in them,--a new force lifted\nhumanity in its lowest depths.\n\nTo this new sense of life out of death Jesus gave the name of _Your\nFather's love_.  He typified it in the parable of the Prodigal Son.\nAnd as the appropriate attitude for this recovered sinner, he set, not\nmerely a glad and thankful acceptance of the gift, but the passing of\nit on to others.  He bound inseparably the receiving and the giving.\n\"Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.\"\n\nJust the experience of the pardoned miser or harlot came to Paul when\nhe saw that in his pride and willfulness he had been persecuting the\nholy and innocent, yet felt himself reached and loved and restored by\nthat same innocent and holy soul.\n\nThe experience was constantly repeated in the early church.  It was the\nmost striking of all those genuine \"miracles\"--the wonders of spiritual\ncreation and growth--which were the wealth of the Christian society.\n\nAt the most dark and depressing hour of that society; when in gaining\ndominion it had lowered its purity, and before the barbarian invasion\nthe whole social fabric shook,--that same miracle of a divine love,\nrealized as a saving and transforming force, was wrought in the great\npersonality of Augustine, and inspired through him anew the life of the\nchurch.\n\nThe intellectual vestment of this experience--the form under which the\ncrude thought of these men gave it body and substance--was the\nIncarnation and the Atonement.  Those doctrines have lasted through all\nchanges, even until this day, because of the pearl of truth cased in\ntheir rough shells.\n\nWhen now we try to express that truth in its simplicity--finding always\na great difficulty in putting in articulate words the deep things of\nthe spirit--we say that the man who sees and sorrows for and seeks to\nescape from his wrong deed or habit may come into the consciousness\nthat he will escape,--may feel with a profound assurance that he is\nupborne by some power of good which will save him and bless him.  He is\nrecoverable; he is lovable; he is loved, and shall be saved.  And the\nway in which that consciousness is awakened is oftenest by the contact\nof some soul which the sinner reverences as better than himself, which\nknows his guilt and loves him in spite of it, and declares to him that\nhe shall live and recover.  The minister of forgiveness may be a mother\nor a wife; it may be the sincere priest speaking to the sincere\npenitent; it may be Christ or Madonna; it may be the unnamed Power\nwhose token is the sunset, or the rainbow, or the voice within the\nheart.\n\n\nThe especial limitation of Christianity at its birth was the\nexpectation of the speedy ending of the existing order.  Hence an\nindifference to such subjects, belonging to permanent human society, as\nindustry, government, knowledge, the control of the forces of nature.\n\nAs to all these, the limitations of Christianity hindered its progress;\nas to each, the natural and secular world exercised an influence\nunconfessed or striven against; as to each, the perception was reached\nthat it must be recognized by religion, until in our day the _Here_ and\n_Now_ takes the foreground in place of the _Hereafter_.  The personal\nlife in its present relations, the human society under earthly\nconditions,--these give to us the main field and problem.  The\nhereafter of the individual gives background and atmosphere.\n\n\nFor \"holy living and dying\" we put simply holy living.  To give\nfullness and perfection to each day, each act, is all and is enough.\nThe thought of death should not swerve or alter a particle.  When the\nlast hour of life comes, what retrospect shall we wish?  Only to have\nfilled life with the best.\n\n\nThe religious emotion will often and freely personify, and must do so.\nThe highest feeling takes on a quality of love, and love goes to a\npersonal object.  It is sometimes as toward one divine friend and God,\nsometimes toward the one beloved human being, sometimes the Christ,\nsometimes a universe of living and loving beings.  These are\ndistinctions of form rather than of substance, the expression by\ndifferent minds of the same reality.\n\nTo the modern mind, the distinct personification of deity is less\nnatural than formerly.  The very vastness of the Infinite, as we\nconceive it, precludes this definite personalizing of it as a habitual\nmode of thought or basis of conduct.  Yet under lofty and high-wrought\nemotion, the yearning of the soul toward the Supreme Power often breaks\nspontaneously into the language of personality.  In the exquisite sense\nof deliverance from sharp trouble,--when the trouble itself seems more\nthan justified by the heightened gladness, as in Titian's Assumption\nthe face of the Virgin Mother shines in the welcome of that heaven to\nwhich the way has led through all earthly and motherly sorrow,--in such\nemergence, the heart utters again the very words of the Psalmist: \"I\nlove the Lord, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications.\nThe sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon\nme; I found trouble and sorrow.  Then called I upon the name of the\nLord, O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul!  Gracious is the Lord\nand righteous; yea, our God is merciful.  Return unto thy rest, O my\nsoul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with me.  For thou hast\ndelivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from\nfalling.\"\n\n\nIf we would weigh and measure the value of mankind, we have no scales\nor measures.  As much is to be said for the badness of men as for their\ngoodness.  Still more impossible is it to trace their individual\nresponsibility for what they are.  But the determination of the value\nof mankind, even the lowest, is by a different process from that of the\nspeculative intellect.  Are men worthy of love?  Love them, and you\nshall know!  The attitude of love vindicates itself.  No one who has\nheartily given himself to the service of others turns back saying,\n\"They are not worth it.\"\n\nEncompassing light creates in the developing creature an eye.  So\nencompassing love--human love--draws out response in its object, makes\nit lovable.\n\n\nOne class of truths are certain for all and at all times.  These are\nsuch as: the excellence and authority of the highest moral ideal; the\nobligations of purity, truth, and honesty; love as the true attitude;\nreceptivity toward knowledge, beauty, and humor.\n\nThere are other perceptions which vary greatly in their frequency and\nvividness.  They are impulses of reassurance, joy, hope, victory.  They\nsurpass all other sources of strength and comfort.\n\nThey cannot, in their clearness and fullness, be transferred or\nexpressed; they cannot even, by the mind experiencing them, be resolved\ninto intellectual propositions.\n\nThey are not peculiar to what we usually call religion.  The experience\nof love between man and woman opens a new world.  So does music; so do\nall the finer forms of happiness.\n\nAll these, when they come, are felt as gifts,--as revelations.  They\nare not within our direct and immediate command.\n\nWhat relation do they bear to the life which is within our command,--to\nour deliberate, purposeful, self-ordered life?  First, in that life we\ncultivate the two traits which fit us for the vision, though they do\nnot command it,--sensitiveness and self-control.\n\nSo no man or woman can foresee whether the love of wedlock shall come\nto them, but each can render himself worthy of love, and no high\nexperience of love is possible except to one trained long beforehand in\npurity and unselfishness.\n\nNext, these higher moods, when they come, should be accepted as giving\nlaw to the unillumined hours.  They do not change, but they intensify,\nthe aim at rightness of life, and they add to it the spirit of courage,\nof trust, of joy.\n\n\nThe hope of immortality--the assurance of some good beyond, which we\nexpress by \"immortality\"--is born from a sense of the value of life.\nLife is felt to be precious as it is consecrated by the moral struggle\nin ourselves, and as it is viewed in others with sympathy.  We give our\nmoral effort and our sympathy, and these are encountered by the\ntremendous play of human joys and sorrows, and the result is a sense of\nlife as intensely significant.\n\nThe feeling of communion with Christ, with angels and saints,--its\nnatural basis is the reverence and love for great souls.  As such\nreverence and love is deep, and as death removes the objects, the sense\nof a continued communion arises spontaneously.  No form of our\nconsciousness is more vivid and profound than this.  It has a\nbackground of mystery,--mystery scarcely deeper or other than that\nwhich envelops the earthly love.  _What_ do I love in the friend whom\nhere I see?  Is it the individuality, or that higher power of which it\ntransmits a ray?\n\nThe sense of this blending of the human and divine does not weaken or\nperplex our affection for the friend we see; it intensifies and\nsublimates it.  So, in the sense of communion with the unseen friend,\nit disturbs us not that we cannot say how much is there of the\nremembered personality, how much of the one eternal deity.  The essence\nof what we loved and love is sure and undying.\n\n\nThe creature succeeds as its functions and organs become fitted to its\nenvironment.  Man succeeds as he fits himself to a moral environment.\nTo the undeveloped man the world is full of forces which are hostile or\nindifferent to his right action; a thousand things distract him from\ndoing right; he is like a creature in a watery world with\nhalf-developed fins.  But as a man becomes morally developed he finds\nmoral opportunity everywhere,--finds occasion for service, for\nadmiration, gratitude, reverence, hope.  This moral development\nincludes the whole man: he needs a good body; he needs much that only\ninheritance can supply.  His own effort is one factor, not the sum of\nfactors.  We must be patient with ourselves,--accept our inevitable\nimperfections as part of the grand plan, and find a joy in what is\nabove and beyond ourselves.\n\n\nMan first solves the problem of his own life,--finds the key in\ndevotion to the highest ideal of character,--finds the answer in moral\ngrowth following his effort, forgiveness meeting his repentance, human\nlove answering his love, beauty meeting his desire, truth opening to\nhis search, a support and assurance found in emergency.\n\nThen, and only then, he can rightly study the world.  For he must first\nhave the standard of values in human life; he must have, too, the utter\ndevotion to truth.\n\nStudying the universe, he learns that man has come into being through\nthe processes of material law,--that the aeons of astronomy and geology\nhave been working toward his production.  He finds that man develops\ninto moral man, with the power of choice and of love; develops into a\nbeing loyal and sensitive to duty and to his kind.  This type of man\ntends to become the universal type.  Human goodness tends to spread\nitself.  There is a society, living from age to age, of those devoted\nto the good of man: this sentiment grows purer, more enlightened, more\nenthusiastic; it is the heart of all reforms, all social progress; no\nequal power opposes it.  It is combated by selfishness, greed,\nignorance, violence, but these forces have no spiritual cohesion among\nthemselves, no inner unity; they are destined to fall before the\nadvance of the higher spirit.\n\nHand in hand with this advancing goodness goes advancing knowledge,\ngrowing sense of beauty, greater powers of happiness.\n\nWe see thus a power working for good through man, making him its\ninstrument, absorbing him into itself.\n\nThe movement is continuous, from the star-mist to the saint.\n\nThis is one element in the sum of things.  It is the element that man\nknows best.  The lives of the gnat and the tiger he scarcely more than\nguesses at.  Other possible existences than his own there may be, even\nwithin this mundane sphere, of which he knows nothing.  Of humanity he\nknows something, and he sees that it is moved toward the goal of\nperfection.\n\nThe power which thus moves it he inevitably identifies with that which\nhe has found urging himself toward goodness, touching him in his best\nestate with a sense of harmony, and sustaining him in all emergencies.\nTo this Power of Good he devotes himself and trusts himself.  His\nsupreme prayer is, \"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.\"  He seeks to\nbe used by this power for its own ends; better than any wish he can\nframe must be the end to which it works.\n\nThe final product of the world-forces, the flower of the universe, the\nchild of God, is man, in his fidelity, tenderness, yearning.  To him\nbelong the saint's aspiration, the poet's vision, the mother's love.\nAnd this highest type, by all its finest faculties, reaches toward a\nhereafter.\n\nThe ruling power turns often a harsh face upon its creatures.  There is\nunbounded suffering.  There is the perpetual destruction of the\nindividual.  Even the moral growth meets obstacles often\ninsurmountable; inheritance limits; circumstances betray; we see sudden\nfalls and slow deterioration; whole races wane.\n\nBut we see that evil is somehow a stepping-stone to all our good.\nHeroism, piety, tenderness, have been born out of pain.  The\nexpectation of a hereafter gives hope that no individual moral germ is\nlost.  And we see that the crowning victory of life is the persistence\nof man's good against the evil; as in the mother whose love the\nprodigal cannot exhaust; in the Siberian exile who will not despair; in\nJesus when before the cross he prays, \"Thy will be done.\"  This is\nfaith, this is the soul's supreme act,--the allegiance to good, the\ntrust in good, in face of the very worst.  Man, in that depth feels\nlifted by a power transcending himself.  So, when the beloved is taken\nby death, the heart, in face of that loss, loves on; feels its love\ngreater than that which has befallen; says, \"O Death, where is thy\nsting!  O grave, where is thy victory!\"\n\n\nThe best living unites us closely and mysteriously with some greater\nwhole of which we are a part.  The three great faculties are knowledge,\nconduct, love.  Knowledge finds always new objects, new connections, a\nmore perfect and wonderful whole.  Right conduct brings a sense of\nbeing in true relations,--of fulfilling some high destiny.  Love blends\nthe individual with the universal; its successive steps are the highest\nform of human education.\n\n\nChristianity was a feminine religion in its virtues, as purity and\ntenderness; and also in its attitude of pure dependence, submission,\npetition.  The masculine elements have not been duly recognized as\nreligious, even when having a great place in the actual working of\nthings,--self-reliance, physical hardihood, civic virtue, the pursuit\nof truth.\n\n\nIn her subject state, woman has learned piety.  She brings that as she\nemerges into her free state, her gift to man, as his to her is strength\nand self-reliance.\n\n\nThe moral power of the dogmatic systems has been very limited.  They\npretended to all knowledge and all power, but they have only gone a\nlittle way to sweeten and purify human life.  The \"enthusiasm of\nhumanity\" advances society farther in a decade than the old religion\ndid in a century.\n\n\nWe are taught by scientists the extreme slowness with which races have\nimproved.  But do we know how fast races or families can improve if\nbrought in contact with the most helpful influences of other races or\nfamilies?  Has that experiment ever been fairly tried?  Do not results\nwith hardened convicts, with Indian and negro pupils, suggest that\nthere may be an immense acceleration of moral progress?\n\n\nDifferent classes of minds require different religions.  A multitude\nrequire the pictorial faith and the absolute authority of the Catholic\nchurch.  A great many require the divine-human figure of Christ.  A\ncertain class of minds will be pantheistic.  To some the wonders of the\nphysical world will be the most impressive revelation.  Natures strong\nin spiritual insight will be transcendentalists.  Those in whom\npersonal affection is profound will have the gospel of \"In Memoriam\"\nand Lucy Smith.  Active, serviceable, unimaginative men will often be\ncontent with a cheerful agnosticism.  Some, after pushing their inquiry\nto the farthest, and keeping it united with right living, will rest in\n\"devout and contented uncertainty.\"\n\n\nThe advance of knowledge has been the great fact of the world's\nintellectual life for the past century.\n\nThe increase by this means of material good; the upward push of the\npeople, strengthened by knowledge and by prosperity won through\nknowledge; the widening and deepening of human sympathy,--these are the\ngreat social facts.\n\nThe imminent situation is that knowledge has destroyed the old\nreligious basis, and is only just beginning to construct a new\nreligious cultus.  Socially, the common people seem on the point of a\ngreat advance, while the too eager push for material good brings\ntemporarily a moral injury.\n\nAmong the constructive forces are: a knowledge of man and the world\nwhich enables us to build on broader foundations than Jesus or St.\nFrancis; a vivified sense of humanity which gives the emotional force\nwhich is always the strongest dynamic factor; and a new sense of\nnatural beauty which feeds the religious life and imparts peace.\n\nThe immediate future is uncertain,--the barbarian invasion and the\nreligious wars may have a parallel in another period of disasters.  But\nthe large onward movement is clear, and the personal ideal was never at\nonce so reasonable and so ardent as now.  Though storms should rise\nhigh, faith and hope may hold fast, remembering that\n\n      \"all the past of Time reveals\n    A bridal dawn of thunder-peals\n  Wherever Thought hath wedded Fact.\"\n\n\nDemocracy is just a continuation of the upward push which out of the\nmollusk has made man.  Altruism is not the only nor the primary upward\nforce.  Before it and along with it goes the individual's struggle for\nhis own betterment,--the outreach, first, of hunger and sex; then\ntoward finer forms of pleasure; then of moral aspiration.  Democracy,\nsocialism are an effort for _common_ betterment; the egoistic merges\nwith the altruistic impulse.\n\nThe mind must be held open to the free winds of knowledge.  If they can\nshake the foundations, let them.  And just as one's personal courage\nmust often tremble before personal risks, so there must sometimes be\nintellectual tremors.\n\n\nIf in the ardent temper and sweet spirit of the New Testament we try to\ndiscriminate as to what phases of human conduct receive the chief\nstress, we find the strongest emphasis is on brotherly love and\nchastity.  The ethical service of the Christian church has been\ngreatest in the direction of these two qualities.  What it has done for\npurity is beyond our power to measure.  And it is just at that point\nthat even yet the struggle of humanity to emerge from the bestial\ncondition seems most difficult and doubtful.  Some writer has remarked\nthat Christianity apparently introduced no really new virtue into human\nsociety, with the exception of male chastity.  Shakspere in one sonnet\ngives tremendous expression to the evil of lust, with this conclusion:--\n\n  \"This all the world doth know; yet none know well\n  To shun the heaven, that leadeth to this hell.\"\n\n\nChristianity, in a way of its own, opened a gate out of that hell.  The\ngate was the power of a pure spiritual affection.  Paul describes, in\nlanguage that strikes home to-day, the war of flesh and spirit.  For\nhim, its conclusion is: \"O wretched man that I am!  Who shall deliver\nme from the body of this death?  I thank God through Jesus Christ our\nLord!\"  At the crisis there rises in his spirit the consciousness,\nvivid as a personal presence, of that great, pure, loving soul; and\ntemptation falls dead.  Augustine relates more fully a like experience.\nThe turning-point of his life comes when, still bound after long\nstruggles by a sinful tie, there comes to him the message, \"Put ye on\nthe Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh to fulfill\nthe lusts thereof.\"  The church has not confined itself to a single\nform of influence.  It has invested the command to purity with the\nsanction of a divine behest; has used threats and penalties; has\nemployed asceticism, often with most disastrous results; has appealed\nvariously to the spiritual imagination with legend and story.  The\nfresh blood of the Northern peoples has come in to reenforce the spent\nand struggling morality of the South.  A romantic conception of love\nhas blended nature's two great forces--sense and spirit--instead of\nsetting them in opposition, and has invested wedlock with its true\nsanctity, in place of the false exaltation of celibacy.  And, under\nvarious influences, the relation of the sexes has upon the whole been\nso far heightened that we see this at the end of two thousand\nyears,--that marriage, which Paul himself looked upon as a kind of\nnecessary evil, is recognized as the best guardian and teacher of\npurity.\n\nThe connection between the two most strongly marked phases of Christian\nmorality--between love and purity--is not an arbitrary or accidental\none.  It is an ideal affection that best masters the sensuous nature.\nIn the words of \"Ecce Homo,\" \"No heart is pure that is not passionate;\nno virtue is safe that is not enthusiastic.\"\n\n\nThe modern attitude has two broad differences from early Christianity.\nMan addresses all his energy to understanding and controlling the\nforces of nature, instead of regarding them as alien or hostile and his\nown salvation as a matter of supernatural relation.\n\n\nAnd his relation with the Infinite and the Hereafter is far more\nvarious, subtle, intimate.\n\n\nEpictetus gives the heaven of the conscience, Jesus of the heart,\nEmerson of the intellect.\n\nMan's problems now are to find the physical and the social heaven,--to\nrightly correlate the spirit with the body and the earth, and to more\nperfectly organize society.\n\n\nThe modern man, instead of appealing to Jehovah or Christ, grasps the\npowers of nature and of life as they are put into his own hands.\nWalter Scott writes in his journal, in a sharp exigency: \"God help--no,\nGod _bless_--man must _help_ himself.\"\n\n\n\"Love God and man; what higher rule can there be?\" we are asked.  But\nthe actual work of the modern man is widely different from what Jesus\nor Paul perceived.  To understand natural forces and ally himself with\nthem; to rightly order that vastly complex organism, the state; to\nfrankly enjoy the pleasures of the healthy body; to discern the beauty\nof the surrounding world; to reproduce beauty in art; to relish the\nhumor of the world,--these are aims which would have sounded strange to\nPaul, to Jesus, or to Epictetus.\n\nTo seek the best, not for ourselves alone but for others, even at cost\nto ourselves; to control our lower natures by our higher natures; to\nfeel a relation with the Supreme,--these were the aims and inspirations\nof the earlier Christianity; and they remain, but with enlarged and new\napplication.\n\n\nScience has not penetrated to the inner secret of life, which is best\nreached by other approaches.  But it has enormously affected all\nthinking by the discovery of Evolution.  The recognition of growth--a\ngradual, causal process--in mankind's whole advance, alters the entire\nface of history and prophecy.  Just as it eliminates supernaturalism\nfrom the past, so it guides present progress and inspires while it\nmoderates anticipation of the future.\n\n\nThere grows the sense of some unfathomable unity.  Creator and creature\nare not sharply separated, as by the theologians: they are even more\nclosely united than the \"father\" and \"son\" of Jesus.  So, too, the\nunity of humanity--of all souls--until the idea of personal immortality\nblends with some dimly conceived but greater reality.\n\n\nIt is impossible to portray under a single image the ideal of to-day,\nbecause many ideals coexist.  There is infinite difference of moral\ndevelopment, as many characters as there are men; the variety of the\nspiritual world is like that of the material world, and the diversity\ngives richness and charm.  And the forward movement of the ages is\nimmeasurably complex.  Yet certain broad movements are traceable.\n\n\"Do right and fear nothing,\" was the word of Stoicism.\n\n\"God is holy; be ye holy,\" was the word of Hebraism, growing clearer,\nstamping itself by institutions and inheritance.\n\n\"God is love; love ye,\" was the word of Christianity.  The life of\nJesus was the symbol of that idea, and gave impulse and law to the new\nsociety.\n\nIt was in keeping with the Stoic doctrine of Providence, but it came\nthrough the imagination to the heart, more powerful than the calm\nutterance of reason.\n\nThe Christian sense of sin was the intense force to rouse the ancient\nworld from its easy-going content.  It was necessary that purity should\nbecome a passion.  The dogma of depravity was the intellectual\nexaggeration of this.  A God who died to save men from sin and hell was\nits natural counterpart.\n\nWhen the church had worked under the control of these ideas for fifteen\nhundred years, there woke again in mankind the sense of joy, beauty,\nknowledge, as good in themselves and God-given.  Humanity was only half\nripe for this truth, and again the austere impulse reasserted itself in\nCalvinism, in Puritanism, in the Jesuits.  But knowledge, joy,\nnaturalness, went on growing; they have changed the conception of\nreligion itself, turning it to the sense of a present as well as a\nfuture fruition.\n\nThe sense of human suffering comes in our day to full realization.  The\nbest impulse of the time throws itself against that, as formerly\nagainst sin.  Just as the evil of sin was overstated and became an\nexaggeration and terror, so the sense of human suffering is often\noverstretched and becomes pessimism.  But, essentially, a fresh and\npowerful enthusiasm assails the evils of mankind.  It aims to educate\nand elevate the whole being,--to save men.  It has in science a new\ninstrument.\n\nThe old hope of some speedy millennium is gone.  We see that the\ngeneral advance must be slow.  But we also see that the imperfect\ncondition is not so terrible as it was once supposed: it does not incur\nhell; it does not imply total depravity; it may even serve as\nstepping-stone to higher things.\n\nAll the higher phases of man's nature point together.  The highest\nthought says, \"All is well;\" the deepest feeling, \"God is love;\" the\nhuman affection realizes its immortality; the seeing eye finds\nuniversal beauty; the profoundest yearning enfolds the promise, \"I\nshall be satisfied.\"\n\n\nWe may follow the story by another thread.\n\nA human society inspired and bound together by the highest traits,\nconsciously ensphered in a divine power and inspired by it,--this is\nthe ideal which has been reached toward and grown toward through all\nthe ages.\n\nIts primitive germ was Israel's hope of a splendid national future.\n\nIn Jesus this expanded into the Kingdom of God among men,--that is, the\nperfect reign of goodness, love, and the human-divine relation of son\nand father.  He looked for its realization by miracle, and when that\nfailed said, \"Thy will be done,\" and died, trusting all to the Father.\n\nHis followers, at first under the dream of his second coming, settled\ninto a society bound together by common rules and ideals.  The Catholic\nchurch was born and grew.  Mixed with all human elements of\nimperfection, it advanced a long way toward the goal, then divided its\nsway with new energies.\n\nIn the political and social life of Europe, and especially of England,\nthere slowly grew up a population fit for self-government in place of\ngovernment by the few.\n\nThomas More foresaw prophetically a community which should realize the\nloftiest vision, and whose bond should be human and social, not\ntheologic.\n\nThe Puritan tried to enforce the will of God, as he understood it, by\nauthority,--to build a commonwealth on Hebrew lines.  He failed, in\nEngland and America, but stamped his character on both peoples.\n\nThen came the essay of the Quaker toward a reign of peace.\n\nNext, the Wesleyan movement, quickening the English heart and\nconscience, and sending the wave which did in a degree for the West of\nAmerica what Puritanism and Quakerism did for the East.\n\nThen the uprising in France,--the passionate aspiration for \"liberty,\nequality, fraternity,\"--at war with Christianity, instead of at one\nwith it like English freedom, and working great and mixed results.\n\nWe see the American republic, founded by a blending of hard common\nsense, experience, devotion, and widening purpose, and best typified in\nWashington.\n\nIn Lincoln the problem of the American commonwealth--to maintain unity,\nyet purify itself--and the problem of a human life are both solved by\nthe old virtues, honesty, self-rule, self-devotion.\n\nThe present movement of the world is toward a nobler social order.  It\nis to lift the common man upward, on material good as a stepping-stone,\ntoward the height of the saint and seer.  This is the better soul of\ndemocracy, the noble element in politics, the reformation in the\nchurches, the bond of sympathy with Christ.\n\nAlong with this goes a new personal ideal, exemplified in\nEmerson,--accepting the present world as the symbol and instrument of a\ncelestial destiny.  \"Contenting himself with obedience, man becomes\ndivine.\"\n\n\nIn the Gospel history, the figures of the woman and the child take a\nhigh place.  In Jesus himself the feminine element blent with the\nmasculine.  Medieval religion and art found their best symbol in the\nfigure of the mother clasping her babe.  Our modern time is giving\nfreedom to woman and recognizing her equality with man, and we are\nlearning that the secret of the world's advance lies in the right\ntraining of children under natural law.  So the sentiment which grows\nup in the natural relations of life is elevated by religion, then\ndeveloped and perfected by freedom and by science.\n\n\nFor us the practical problem is the cultivation of the religious nature\nalong with the other elements of a complete manhood.  We are not\nobliged by intellectual process to create a religious sentiment in\nourselves.  We inherit that sentiment.  It is like the sense of purity\nor of beauty,--beyond demonstration, except the demonstration of\nexperience.  We need only to supply the right conditions for its\neducation and application.\n\nThe belief that the spiritual life was dependent on certain\ninstitutions and beliefs was the key to the ecclesiastical tyranny of\nthe past.  We have virtually escaped that tyranny.  Now, in the\natmosphere of freedom, we cultivate the spiritual life, and it proves\ndeeper and fairer than ever before.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nDAILY BREAD\n\nWhen Charles Lyell addressed himself to the problems of geology, he found\nthat his predecessors in the study had accounted for all the stupendous\nphenomena whose story is written in the earth's crust, on the supposition\nof vast catastrophic disturbances in the remote past, because they held\nthat these effects were too prodigious to have been wrought by the\nordinary slow processes of nature with which we are familiar.  Lyell took\nup the question by the near and homely end.  He patiently watched the\nworkings of heat and cold, sunshine and rain and frost, summer and\nwinter, in the fields about his own house.  He learned there what these\nfamiliar forces are capable of, in what directions they operate, and in\nthem he found the clew to the story of the past aeons.  Right about his\ndoorstep were the magicians that had done it all.\n\nThat illustrates the process of discovery in the spiritual universe.  We\nare not to soar up into infinity to find God.  The only air that will\nsupport our wings is that which encircles closely this familiar planet.\nLet us look for a divine significance in homely things.\n\nHere is Goodness.  It is right about us, in people whom we know and meet\nevery day, plainly visible to eyes that know how to see it.  Here are all\nits forms.  Innocence,--the very image of it looks upon you from many a\nchild's face.  Courage, firmness, self-control,--you may read them in the\nlines of many a manly countenance.  Purity,--who has not felt its\nhallowing regard fall upon him from the eyes of maid and matron?  Pity,\ntenderness, sympathy,--these angels move about us in human forms, and he\nthat hath eyes to see them sees.\n\nFineness of character must be recognized by sympathetic observation.\nThere must be the watchful attentiveness, like that of the sculptor\nstudying his subject, the hunter tracking his prey.  And there must be in\nthe observer himself some quality akin to that he would detect.  Only the\ngood see goodness, only the lover sees love.  A mother would convey to\nher little daughter some full sense of the motherly feeling that yearns\nwithin her, but how can it be done?  In just one way: let that daughter\ngrow up and have children of her own, _then_ she will know how her mother\nfelt.\n\nWould we know something of the Divine Mother-heart?  We must first get in\nourselves something of the mother-feeling.  \"Every one that loveth\nknoweth God and is born of God.\"\n\nPerhaps there has been given to us some human friend,--parent or comrade,\nhusband or wife,--in whom as nowhere else we see the beauty of the soul.\nBest, divinest gift of life is such a friend as that,--a friend who fills\ntoward us a place like that to which our poet so nobly aspires:--\n\n  \"You shall not love me for what daily spends,\n  You shall not know me on the noisy street,\n  Where I, as others, follow petty ends;\n  Nor when in fair saloons we chance to meet;\n  Nor when I 'm jaded, sick, anxious, or mean;\n  But love me then and only, when you know\n  Me for the channel of the rivers of God,\n  From deep, ideal, fontal heavens that flow.\"\n\n\nSometimes the friend whose goodness so touches us as with the very\npresence of God is one whom we have never seen.  To millions of hearts\nthat place has been filled by Christ.\n\nThese lines of Emerson--heroic idealist that he was--ask to be loved only\nwhen he is at his highest, and so is felt as a revelation of something\nhigher than himself.  But our best friends--comrade, mother, or\nwife--love the ideal soul in us, and love us no less when we are \"jaded,\nsick, anxious, or mean,\" covering with exquisite pity our infirmities,\nand by their nobility lifting us out of our baseness.  And in that\naffection which embraces our best and our worst, those human friends are\nthe symbols--yes, and are part of the reality--of the Divine love.\n\nAnd what is all beauty, all grandeur, but the manifestation, through the\neye to the soul, of the one Supreme Being?  The mountains, the sea, the\nsunset, touch us with more than pleasure: they stir in us some awe, some\nmystic delight, some profound recognition of sacred reality.  How can we\nbetter frame the wonder in speech than by saying, \"Just as my friend's\nface manifests to me my friend, so Nature is as the very face of the\nliving God\"?\n\nIn the processes of human life,--the life we live and the life we\nsee,--there is discernible a significance which grows more impressive,\nmore solemn, more inspiring, just as we learn to read it intelligently.\nWhat a wonderful drama is this play of human lives,--this perpetual\ntragedy and comedy, of which some slight and faint transcript finds\nexpression in the pages of poet and novelist!  We needs must continually\nsee and feel something of it, but we are apt to miss its best\nsignificance.  What fastens our attention most in our experience, or in\nwhat we sympathetically watch in others, is the element of enjoyment or\nsuffering.  Pain and pleasure are so very, very real!  We ache, and we\nare sorry for another's ache; we are joyous, and glad in another's joy.\nAnd there it often stops with us.  But all the while something is working\nunder the pain and pleasure.  Character is being made or marred.  Yonder\nman bleeds, and you sigh for him,--ah! but a hero is being moulded there.\nAnd here one thrives and prospers, expands and radiates,--but a spiritual\nbankruptcy is approaching.\n\n\nWhen we look closely and deeply at the world about us,--whether at this\nordered world of nature, moving steadily in its unbroken and majestic\ncourse, or at the external aspect of grandeur and loveliness, or at the\ndrama in which all men are actors, as it is disclosed to insight and\nsympathy, or at the inner world of each one's personal experience,--do we\nnot find ourselves in the perpetual presence of Goodness, Order, Beauty,\nLove?  Are not these the very presence of Deity?\n\n\"But,\" you say, \"there is also confusion to be seen,--what does that\nsignify?\"  Just so fast as human intelligence advances, it finds that\nwhat seemed disorder is really governed by strictest order.  You say, \"We\nsee ugliness as well as beauty,--what does that mean?\"  Ugliness serves\nits purpose in aiding by repulsion to train the sense of beauty.  Beauty,\nand man's delight in it, is the end; ugliness, and our repulsion from it,\nis but an incident and means.  You say, \"We see wickedness,--what of\nthat?\"  May we not hope that wickedness, in the broad survey of mankind's\nupward progress, is the stumbling of a child over its alphabet?\n\nThe instinct that the shadow is the servant of the light, that seeming\ndisorder, ugliness, sin are but veiled instruments of good,--this seems\none of the truths which flash upon mankind in gleams, and which as the\nrace rises actually into nobler life tend to become clear and steadfast\nconviction.\n\n\nIt is the vastness of the Divinity that overwhelms us.  Suppose a man,\nsimple-hearted and imaginative, who, in a distant country, has read of\nAmerica, and has fashioned her in his thoughts as a heroic female\nfigure,--a kind of goddess.  He has taken as literal reality such poetic\ndescriptions as those in Lowell's \"Commemoration Ode\" and Emerson's\n\"Boston Hymn,\"--\n\n  \"Lo! I uncover the land\n  Which I hid of old time in the West,\n  As a sculptor uncovers the statue\n  When he has wrought his best.\"\n\nAnd he comes to you and says, \"Show me America!\"  And you show him a\nlittle of this country, its mountains and lakes and rivers, its shops and\nfarms and people.  He is interested and gratified.  Yet this is not what\nhe expected; and he says, \"But show me America,--that radiant, heroic\nform, that goddess to charm the eyes and the heart.\"  And you tell him:\n\"But America is too great to be taken in so, at a glance.  You have just\nbegun to see it.  You have seen New England's hill-farms, but you have\nnot seen the prairies of the West.  You have seen the Penobscot and\nKennebec, the Connecticut and Hudson; but you have yet to see the\nMississippi and Niagara.  I have taken you to Katahdin and Monadnock and\nMount Washington, but you have yet to behold the Alleghanies and the\nRockies and Tacoma.  Our people you have just begun to see: our armies of\nfree toilers, our happy households, our strong men and lovely\nwomen,--these you are only beginning to know.\" And he says, perhaps: \"But\nall this is so diffuse, so various, so difficult to comprehend!  I had\nfancied _America_ as some one beautiful, some one to love.  How can one\nlove such a scattered, immense, diversified thing as this you describe to\nme?\"  Well, you tell him: \"You may not understand it yet awhile; but this\ncountry which you say is not a thing to love was in peril of its life a\nfew years ago, and it was so loved that men by hundreds of thousands left\nhome, and risked life and all for it, and their mothers and wives and\nsisters sent them forth.  That is how America can be loved!\"\n\nIn some such fashion as this do we grope after a God whom we can\ncomprehend at a glance; and, lo! his presence fills the universe.  \"Say\nnot, Who shall ascend into heaven to bring him down, or who shall descend\ninto hell to bring him up? for he is nigh thee, before thy eyes and in\nthy heart.\"\n\n\nThe chief revelation we need is the education of our own perceptive\npowers.  Sir John Lubbock has pointed out, in a very striking passage,\nthat the material world may convey itself through other senses than the\nfive which we possess, that there may be innumerable other senses, and\nthat some of these may perhaps be already developed in other creatures\nthan man.  Such a suggestion stirs our curiosity and desire; but how few\nof us have learned to rightly use the five senses we have!  And of the\nmoral perceptions we have but a most rudimentary development.  We are\nunconscious of most of the world we live in, unconscious even of what\nmany of our fellow-men discern.  Did you ever happen to be in the\npresence of a sunset, flooding the heavens with glory, with a companion\nwho showed no sign of perceiving the splendor?  Ah! perhaps he was\nblinded to it by some secret grief or care, some trouble which you might\nhave discovered in him and comforted, had your sympathy been as acute as\nyour sense of beauty.  But did his blindness, whatever its cause, suggest\nto you that you perhaps were at that moment in the presence of sublime\nrealities, to which your consciousness was closed as his was to the\nsunset?\n\n\nTo recognize consciously the spiritual elements in the universe belongs\npartly to a right cultivation of character, and partly it is due to\nnatural endowment, to an intellectual faculty.  It is not, after all, of\nso much account that we _see_ the divine in life as that we have it in\nourselves.  In this one sentence, \"Blessed are the pure in heart, for\nthey shall see God,\" Jesus puts spiritual vision as the result of a moral\nquality.  But it is the moral quality itself on which, in one form and\nanother, his blessing is constantly pronounced.  So, if you say, \"I\ncannot see,--God is in no sense visible to me,\" yet there remain still\nmost precious gifts, if you will take them.  Blessed are the gentle, the\npeacemakers, the merciful, they that do hunger and thirst after\nrighteousness; blessed are the sympathetic, the stout-hearted, the\nopen-eyed, the open-handed; plain and simple and sure are these\nbenedictions.\n\nThe presence of Divinity which it is most essential that we recognize is\nthe choice perpetually presented to us between a higher and a lower\ncourse of action.  Whether one has the joyful, uplifting vision is of\nsmall consequence in comparison with whether he steadily chooses and\nfollows the right.\n\n\nNo one can be reasoned or persuaded into any living faith in God or\nimmortality, any more than reason and persuasion can draw from the cold\nApril furrow the field of waving wheat.  The faith _grows_ in the\nindividual and in the race, under that culture to which the higher powers\nsubject us,--a culture in which the elements are experience and fidelity,\nthought and action, love and loss, aspiration and achievement.  Love and\nLoss, the sweetest angel and the sternest one, join their hands to give\nus that gift of the immortal hope.\n\nIf one asks, How shall I gain faith in God and hope of immortality? what\nbetter answer can we give him than this: Be faithful, live, and love!\nWork and love press their treasures on you with full hands.  Open your\neyes to the glory of the universe.  Watch the world's new life quickening\nin bud and bird-song.  Get into sympathetic current with the hearts\naround you.  Be sincere; be a man.  Keep open-minded to all knowledge,\nand keep humble in the sense of your ignorance.  Seek the company that\nennobles, the scenes that ennoble, the books that ennoble.  In your\ndarkest hour, set yourself to brighten another's life.  Be patient.  If\nan oak-tree takes a century to get its growth, shall a man expect to win\nhis crown in a day?  Find what word of prayer you can sincerely say, and\nsay it with your heart.  Look at the moral meanings of things.  Learn to\nfeel through your own littleness that higher power out of which comes all\nthe good in you.  Join yourself to men wherever you can find them in that\nnoblest attitude, true worship of a living God.  Know that to mankind are\nset two teachers of immortality, and see to it that you so faithfully\nlearn of Love that Sorrow when she comes shall perfect the lesson.\n\n\nLove in its simplest and most common forms is often strangely wise.  Many\na mother learns from the light of her baby's eyes more than all wisdom of\nbooks can teach.  When the little, unconscious thing is taken from her\narms, there is given to her sometimes a feeling, \"My baby is _mine_\nforever;\" a feeling in whose presence we stand in reverent, tender awe.\nIt is not every experience of bereavement which brings with it this\nuplift of comfort.  But to the noble love of a noble object there comes\nthe sense of something in the beloved that outlasts death.  To the\n_noble_ love, for most of our affection has a selfish strain in it; the\nclinging to another for what of present enjoyment he yields to us brings\nsmall illumination or assurance.  But as self loses itself in another's\nlife, there comes to us the deep instinct of something over which death\nhas no power.  Above all, when we unselfishly love one in whom dwells\nmoral nobility,--when it is a great and vital and holy nature to which we\njoin ourselves,--there comes to us a profound and pregnant sense of its\nimmortality.  It is when death's stroke has fallen that that sense rises\ninto full, triumphant bloom.\n\nNo wonder the disciples felt that their Master lived!  Theirs was the\nexperience that in substance repeats itself whenever from among those who\nlove it a noble soul goes home.  It was because Jesus was supremely\nnoble, and they had loved him with consummate affection, that their\nexperience was so intense and vivid.  Its true significance lay in this,\nthat it was not supernatural but natural.  It is standing the pyramid on\nits apex to deduce all human goodness from the goodness of Jesus, and to\nargue a universal immortality solely from his rising.  Let us place the\npyramid four-square in the universal truth of human nature.  Let us\nground our religion upon the moral fidelity, the human love, the\nspiritual aspiration, and the sober regard for fact, in which all loyal\nsouls can agree.  Then at its summit we shall get that character of which\nJesus is the type, a character in which self-sacrifice and joy divinely\nblend, and which in its passage from earth imparts the irresistible\nassurance of a higher life beyond.\n\nThis morning the sun rose upon earth and trees encased in blazing jewelry\nof ice.  Fast, fast the beauty melted and was gone,--and in its place,\nbehold the brown earth touched with living green and teeming with\npromise; the trees' strong limbs tipped with swelling buds; and over all\nthe tender, brooding sky of spring.  Even so, the pageant of the\nmiracle-story dissolves, to give place to the natural consciousness of\neternal beauty and eternal life.\n\nA group of Americans meet in a foreign city, and they talk fondly of\nhome, and to each of them home has its special meaning.  One says: \"I\nremember the green hill-pastures and the great elms and the white\nfarmhouses; I know just how the autumn woods are looking, and the stocked\ncorn, and the pumpkins ripening in the sun; and I am homesick for a sight\nof it all.\"  Another says: \"It is the nation that I think of.  To me\nAmerica seems the home of the poor man, the common man.  She is working\nout great and difficult questions in government and society, and I have\nstrong faith that the outcome of it all is going to be a great good to\nthe world.  I long to take part once more in that national life; and over\nhere among strangers I want at least to Le no discredit to the dear old\ncountry, and if possible to pick up some bit of knowledge or experience\nthat I can add to the common stock when I get home.\"  A third man says:\n\"Yes, that's all true; but I don't often think of it in so big a way as\nthat.  I want to see my old neighbors.  And in these foreign Sundays I\nget hungry for the old church I've been to ever since I was a boy, and\nthe prayers, and the old tunes.\"  Another, perhaps, is silent; but to his\nheart all the while are present the faces of his wife and children.\n\nAs they end their talk and go out together, up the harbor comes a gallant\nship, and at her peak float the stars and stripes; and at the sight\nthrough each heart runs a common thrill of love and devotion.  One man's\nthought of home is the broader, and another's is the tenderer; but\nAmerica is home to them all.\n\nSo into each loyal soul there shines a ray from the divine Sun and Soul\nof the universe.  Each, according to his individual capacity, receives of\nthe fullness of Him that filleth all in all.\n\nTo some minds the beauty of nature brings a deep and inspiring sense of\ndivinity.  As one who has this sensibility looks on the hills and woods\nflushing in the tender radiance of autumn, there comes to him perhaps no\narticulate and conscious thought.  He may not name the name of God, or\nthink it.  But the soul is uplifted.  There flows in upon it some high\nserenity, some mysterious sense of ineffable good.  If from such a scene\none returns to life's activities in braver, truer, and gentler mood,\nthere has been to him a divine revelation.\n\nSome men are of a metaphysical turn of mind, and not only their thoughts\nbut all their emotional experience, all that directs their purpose and\nanimates their feeling, is cast in the mould of highly abstract ideas.\nThey express themselves in phrases which to most people seem cold or\nmeaningless,--an empty substitute for the warmth of religious life.  But\nto the thinker himself these phrases stand for profound realities.  It\nmay be that words which have to other ears the dryness of a mathematical\nformula are to him the expression of moral purpose and sacred trust.\nSuch an one may say: \"I do not recognize a personal God, I do not know\nthat I shall have any personal immortality; but I believe in the moral\norder of the universe and seek to conform to it.  I fearlessly trust my\ndestiny here and hereafter.\"  Perhaps on most of his hearers the words\nfall coldly; but if they see that the speaker's life bears fruit of\ngoodness and heroism and service, they may be sure that, though in a\nlanguage strange to them, God has spoken to his soul.\n\nThere are a great many people, and some of the very best of people, who\nnever get any vivid or distinct apprehension of realities above the\nsphere of their personal activity.  Often they conform to the usages and\nthe language of a religious faith in which they have been educated, and,\nvery likely, feel some self-reproach that they know so little of the\nspiritual experiences which others speak of.  There are men, too, who\nfrankly say, \"I don't know much about God; I can't get hold of what folks\ncall religion; but I try to do my work honestly, and I want to help other\npeople just as much as I can.\"  Some of the most genuine religion in the\nworld exists in people who are almost unconscious that they have any\nreligion.  The simple desire to do right, and the constant readiness to\n\"lend a hand,\"--that is the revelation which such souls receive.\n\nAnother very large class--a class which once included most of the\ndistinctively religious world--crave and find the warmth of a personal\nrelation with Christ as the only satisfying thing.  It is one of the\ngreat and wonderful facts of human history, this personal devotion of\nunnumbered souls throughout the ages to Jesus.  In its intensest form it\nis affection to a living personality.  Any attempt to explain it as an\nappreciation of beneficent influences of which Jesus was the historical\noriginator, or as the reproduction of a temper and purpose resembling\nthat which was in Jesus, fails to satisfy those in whom love to Christ is\nthe ruling sentiment.  It is a person, and a living person, that they\nlove.  One may decline to accept the theories which are wont to accompany\nthe sentiment; one may not believe that Jesus was God, nor that personal\nlove for him can be required as an essential part of religion; and, at\nthe same time, one may believe that when a noble soul passes from earth,\nit rises into yet nobler existence, and may be truly apprehended and\nprofoundly loved by those who are here.  Certainly we see this: that to\nmany men and women the strongest and holiest sentiment of life is\naffection for a personal embodiment of goodness and love, who once walked\nin Galilee and Jerusalem, existing now in the invisible realm,\nsympathizing with all human aspiration, pitiful to all human weakness and\nsorrow, inspiring to all effort and hope and trust.  That sentiment is\nsurely a blessed revelation to those in whom it exists,--the warm and\nliving symbol of an eternal reality.\n\nTo many, the disclosure of God is made in some way especially personal to\nthemselves.  Very often some human friend is the best manifestation and\nassurance of divinity.  Our faith leans on the faith of the best and most\nloving person we have known.  Sometimes the heart's natural language is\n\"My father's God,\" \"my mother's God.\"  With some, the life beyond death\nfirst becomes real to consciousness when the heart's treasure has been\ntaken there.  Sometimes, in looking upon one's own life, one becomes\ndeeply conscious of the higher guidance that has led it.  There are hours\nin which past sorrows shine out as heavenly messengers of good.  There\ndawns upon us a sense of the blessedness that life has held; all its\nhighest experiences become instinct with the suggestion of a celestial\nmeaning that we as yet but half apprehend.  We escape for the moment from\nthe thralldom of self; personal happiness merges in something higher; we\nare glad and still in the sense of a divine Will working in us and in all\nthings.  In such hours the soul says, \"_My_ God.\"\n\nThere is infinite variety of personal experience; \"so many kinds of\nvoices in the world, and none of them without signification.\"  One man\nhas been deep in drunkenness and debauchery, he has grown reckless and\nhopeless; but through some friendly voice there reaches him an impulse to\na new and successful effort; there comes in upon him the sense of a\ndivine love; a mighty forgiving and restoring force seems to seize him\nand draw him back to life.  In his religion thereafter there may be the\nglowing emotion of one who has been forgiven much and loves much.\nAnother man walks always in steady allegiance to conscience and right,\nand never has any rapturous emotions; is not he, too, the child of God?\nWe dislike the prodigal's elder brother for his jealousy; but his\nfather's word to him, despite that touch of unworthiness, was: \"Son, thou\nart ever with me, and all that I have is thine.\"\n\nOne whose life flows with smooth current may find the significance of\nreligion in duty rather than in trust.  To such a one God may appear as\nan ideal, inspiring conduct, but not as a power, controlling events.  But\nupon him, it may be, there breaks some great emergency of life and death;\nthe heart cries out like a child waking frightened in the night, and\nthere answers it, from some depth far below its fear, a voice that says\n\"Peace!\"  In that hour the soul finds its father.  Thereafter passing\ndoubts and fears can but ruffle the surface for a moment.\n\n\nIn our northern winter, how perfectly the trees blend with the scene\nabout them!  They seem wholly a part of winter's grand but lifeless\nworld, and with what beauty do they crown that world,--the columnar\ntrunks, the mighty grip of the roots upon the firm earth, the arching\nsweep of stalwart boughs, the delicate tracery against the sky!  They\nanswer to the season's mood, bending in patient grace beneath a load of\nsnow, casing themselves in jewels, or springing up again in slender\nstrength; silent, except when the deep voice of the wind speaks through\nthem.  Their shadows soften the sunlight glittering on the snow, or weave\na black fretwork when the cold moon shines.  Yet vital in their hearts\nthe trees hold summer's secret.  A little while, and they will be clothed\nin the leafy glory of June.  The robin and catbird and oriole will sing\nhidden among their branches.  Of that summer season the trees will be the\ndelight and crown, that now stand like true children of winter.  They\nstand now so strong and true because of that hidden life within them\nwhich summer will fully disclose.  It is because it is alive that the\ntrunk bends to the storm but does not break, and the twigs hold up their\nload of snow.  So, there are lives that so fit themselves to this world\nin which they stand that they become its finest part.  Their sympathy\nfinds out the secret needs and possibilities of those about them.  Their\ninsight discerns the work which society most needs, and their fidelity\naccomplishes that part of the work which falls to them.  Their natures\nstand open to all the glad influences of earth; their hearts rejoice with\nthem that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.  They make full proof\nof those experiences in which fortitude and silent endurance are the only\nresource.  Sometimes they are happy, and sometimes they are sad; but\nalways other people are happier because of them.  They are the children\nof a better country.  For them the soul's full summer waits.  Knowing\nthem, we do indeed know something of God and the eternal life.\n\n\nThere is freedom to be achieved from the pettiness of our lives.  They\nnever, perhaps, look so pitiful as when they seem made up altogether of\nlittle, necessary details.  Our planting and reaping, building and\nbuying, all the half-mechanical operations that absorb our thought and\ntime, seem sometimes little better than the bustle of a colony of ants.\nWhen we look down upon it all from the height of some quiet, meditative\nhour, are we not at times oppressed with a sense of its triviality and\nworthlessness?  Trivial and worthless it is, except as amidst it all we\nare working out something higher.  But to a man whose heart is set on\nnoble ends; one whose great aim is, not to get his bread and butter, but\nto be a man; one who wants, not just to make a profit out of his\nneighbors, but to serve them and help them, these details are no more\ntrivial or degrading than the rough dress and homely tools of a sculptor\nare unworthy of the marble beauty that is growing under his hands.  The\nhigh purpose consecrates and transfigures all, the want of purpose\ndegrades all.  I have stood in Switzerland upon the Gorner Grat, looking\nupon the grandest scene in Europe.  On every side a circle of towering\nheights look down; against the sky rise dazzling snowy summits,\ncelestially pure, celestially tender; the Matterhorn frowns in awful\nmajesty; vast ice-rivers sweep down toward the valley in solemn, silent\nmarch.  If there be upon earth a spot that of itself has power to hush\nthe soul with noblest emotion, it should be that.  Yet there I have seen\na company of travelers spend their half-hour in senseless gabble and\nbanter and the laughter of fools.  Amid the squalid surroundings of a New\nYork tenement-house, I have seen a poor Irish woman living with such\nfortitude and faith and generosity that it was a comfort and inspiration\nto meet her.  That brave soul ennobled its mean surroundings with a glory\nwhich not the Alps and the sky could flash in upon a heart made blind and\ndull by ignoble thoughts.\n\n\nIf there dwells in us the spirit of life we shall be freed from the\nbondage of doubt.  On how many earnest and aspiring lives does doubt\nthrow its chill shadow!  The world is crossing the flood that divides the\nold form of faith from the new.  The rising water strikes cold to many a\nheart.  Here and there the waves sweep men off from all moral footing.  I\nknow not that for the resolute and thoughtful there is any escape from\nsome suffering in the transition.  Could we be always sure that it is\nonly a transition,--could we know always that a better country lies\nwaiting us,--all might be easily borne.  The suffering we may not\ndecline; but safety, utter safety, we may keep through all.  _Life_ is\nalways possible to us.  Fidelity, purity, self-sacrifice,--these may\nalways be ours.  Are we baffled in our search for a divine plan in the\nuniverse?  Let us look nearer home; can we not find the clew to a divine\nplan in our own lives?  Yes, there need never fail to us an immediate\ntoken of divinity.  There is always, at the lowest, a duty to be done.\nThere is always, at the very lowest, a burden to be bravely borne.  There\nis always some one to be helped.  Do we say, But this does not comfort\nme, does not reassure me?  Then let it guide me!  It is not essential\nthat I should be always in the sunshine.  It is only essential that in\nsunshine or in darkness my steering should be true.  And I am never\nwithout a compass while I see that there is for me a higher and a lower,\na right and a wrong, to choose between.\n\n\nDoes any sense of bondage weigh you down?  Disappointment, it may\nbe,--failure, life's fair promise blighted.  It may be the bitter slavery\nof evil habit.  It may be a dull and apathetic way of life, stirred with\na vague yearning toward higher possibilities.  It may be the darkness of\na lost faith.  It may be a bereavement that has emptied life.  Whatever\nit be, the angel of deliverance stands beside you.  He is perhaps in very\nhumble garb, unsuspected of you.  Some lowly duty awaits you.  Some\nsaddened life, unnoticed by your side, asks you to cheer it.  Whatever\nopportunity of duty or of service lies in the path before you is God's\nown messenger.  Meet it like the messenger of a king!  So meet every\nduty, every opportunity.  Find them, make them, for yourself.  Live no\nlonger in solitude but in brotherhood.  So shall the very spirit of God\ndwell in you; so in his service shall you find perfect freedom.\n\n\nThe end of February is near, and not a hint or whisper of spring does\nNature give us yet.  We are wont to have earlier than this a few days at\nleast that seem to start the sap in the trees and the blood in the veins,\nwhen the first bluebird is heard, and we get one swift, delicious glimpse\nof the good time coming.  But this year the cold only takes a sharper\nclutch.  At its average, our northern winter has a fierce and almost\nmerciless persistence.  Those first days of spring are hardly more than\nthe taste of freedom with which the cat tantalizes the mouse.  It is this\nlingering close of winter that is hard to bear.  The supplies begin to\ngive out.  The wood-pile that stood so high when the first snow came is\ngetting lowered to very near the ground.  The poor man's little hoard,\nthat was to bridge him over till the season of good work, is perilously\nshrunken.  Vitality, too, begins to run low.  The body pines for the\nout-door life from which it has too long been shut off.  Winter is a\nhard-fisted churl who does n't give just measure.  He drives off the\nmellow and jolly Autumn before its mid-month October is fairly gone.  He\nbullies Spring so that the poor, gentle-hearted thing has to get almost\nunder the wing of Summer before she dares take possession of the remnant\nof her own.  The great robber gets almost half the year.  The very bears,\ncurled up for their long nap, must in these days wake sometimes with an\nuneasy shiver and wonder whether their stock of fat will hold out.\n\nThis last and worst onset of winter may stand for those experiences that\ncome as the sharpest test of the stuff that is in men.  The pressure of\nadversity goes on and on, until we say it has reached the last point of\nendurance, and then another turn is given to the screw!  For three long\ndays the battle has raged around the heights of Gettysburg, and each side\nseems to have done its utmost, when the word is given for Pickett's\ndivision in solid column to throw itself straight against Cemetery Hill,\nthat becomes a volcano to meet it.  Those are the times that mark men for\nthe rest of their lives as heroes.  Yet there are finer heroisms than\nthis.  The very splendor of such an hour, with a nation's fate at stake\nand the world looking on, is enough to find out and kindle any spark of\nmanhood in a man.  With no such inspiration as that, there are in every\ncommunity men and women who are battling with poverty and adversity and\nall kinds of trouble with a finer courage than that of the battlefield.\nThey cover an anxious heart with a cheerful face, for the sake of husband\nor wife or children who are watching the face.  No winter is long enough,\nno lifetime is long enough, to tire out their fortitude and patience and\nlove.  There are resources in human nature that never are known until\nthings are at their hardest.\n\nSo at winter's worst--come it in one form or another--man summons up his\ncourage, and though the winter be longer and sharper than he had\nthought--though poverty pinches him or trouble weighs upon him--he sets\nhimself stoutly to bear it.  Alone and unhelped he seems, perhaps,--the\nmarch of the seasons and the vast order of the universe taking no account\nof him; yet manfully he will face whatever comes.  Whatever comes?  It is\nthe summer that is coming!  As certain as to-day's snow and cold, the\nseason of all beauty and warmth and delight is on its way!  The\napple-blossoms, the wild-flowers, the budding of every twig, the\ngreenness of the pastures, the rejoicing life of animals and birds and\ninsects, the sweet airs of May, the sunshine of June,--these, and all\nvaried loveliness beyond imagination's reach or heart's desire, lie just\nbefore us.  So for every soul that patiently endures an unimagined summer\nwaits.  Our patient endurance seems to us now a great matter, and indeed\nif we have it not we are little worth; but when the more genial season\ncomes--when there fully reveals itself to us that high meaning of our\nlives and that divine destiny of which now we catch but a glimpse--we\nshall say, not \"How well we endured the winter,\" but \"How glorious is\nGod's summer!\"\n\nTake the case of a man who, having engaged in the active business of\nlife, feeling himself amply capable of it and longing for it, finds\nhimself by force of circumstances kept out of work.  Perhaps he has his\nliving to earn, perhaps he has a wife and children to support, and he can\nget nothing to do.  Well, that is about as hard a place as a man can be\ncalled to stand in.  Idleness in itself is hard.  It is a burden even to\nthose who have wealth and all the luxuries and amusements that can be\ndevised to while away their leisure.  It is the very nature of a man who\nis good for anything to _do_.  Idleness is as unnatural and trying to the\nmind as sickness is to the body.  But to see those you love in need, to\nsee them threatened with suffering, to know that you could amply provide\nfor them if you had a chance, and not to find a chance,--what is so hard\nas that?\n\nIt is so hard, my friend, that, if you can bear it and not be conquered\nby it, you are a hero.  If under that load you can keep your patience and\nyour temper and your courage, you have won a victory such as makes life\nworth living.  Just as in battle it is the post of danger that is most\nhonorable, so always the hard place is the place of honor.  \"But,\" you\nsay perhaps, \"I don't care about being a hero; I want to see my wife and\nchildren taken care of.\"  That is the best of all reasons for keeping up\nheart.  When a good wife sees her husband unfortunate and out of work,\nwhat is it that she most dreads?  Not that they will starve,--starvation\nseldom happens in this country.  Not that they will be poor, though of\nthat she may be somewhat afraid.  Her greatest fear is lest her husband\nshould get discouraged and down-hearted; should take to drink, perhaps;\nat any rate, should become so despondent and embittered that the light\nshall go out of their lives and their children's.  Now it is his business\nnot to let that happen.  It is his part to keep up for her sake a\nresolute heart and a cheerful face.  And if she is a true woman, how\ngladly will she do the same for him!  Out of just such circumstances\nthere come two opposite results, according as people meet them.  There\ncomes failure of effort and resolution, then despondency, then\nrecklessness, drunkenness perhaps, and at last ruin, the break-up of\ncharacter, the destruction of the children's prospects, or sometimes\nsuicide.  When a man, under pressure of such trouble, really gives up,\neven for an hour, the effort to be brave and make the best of things, he\ntakes a step on a road at the end of which is suicide.  _That_ is the\nconsummate act of cowardice; that is the last logical result of refusing\nto face and conquer our troubles.  Heaven have mercy on the man who seeks\nin death a refuge, and so multiplies the suffering of those he leaves\nbehind!  And at the point where begins the wretched road of despondency,\nwhich if followed out leads to this or some other ruin, there branches\nanother road--manly endurance of the worst, courage which is strong\nbecause it is loving,--a road which leads to heights beyond our sight.\nTo bear trouble together, and for each other's sake to rise above\nit,--what knits hearts together like that?\n\nTake, again, the case of a man who is by circumstances shut off from work\nthat he could do and longs to do for the large benefit of mankind,--the\nman who has a gift of teaching and is not allowed to teach, or who has\nthe statesman's quality and finds no place in public affairs, or who,\nwith any large executive and beneficent faculty, finds himself denied all\nopportunity of exercising it.  For a faculty to be repressed is hard just\nin proportion as its quality is noble.  A caged canary is hardly a\npainful sight, but a caged eagle stirs one with regret.  And the world\nhas such need of all noble talent; such exigent and hungry need of the\ntrue teacher, statesman, seer,--of the word of inspiration and the act of\nleadership!  How shall one who feels in him the power and sees the need;\nwho grasps in his hand the keen sickle, yet is held back, while before\nhis eyes the fields are white with the harvest which threatens, unreaped,\nto perish,--how shall he reconcile himself to his lot?  How escape the\nthought that he and all mankind are but playthings in the grasp of cruel\nand ironic fate?\n\nWhat, then, does the world most need of us?  Is it wisdom, or\nstatesmanship, or executive power?  These things it greatly needs.  But\nmost of all it needs character.  Most of all it needs that quality of\npersonality which is moulded by the interplay of loyal will with the\nshifting course of outward event.  For our wisest thoughts the world can\nvery well wait, or do without them altogether; almost certainly some one\nelse has thought them and said them.  Our executive power to be added to\nthe world's work,--it is but a fly's strength contributed to a\nsteam-engine.  One thing the universe asks of us, which no one else can\ngive,--_ourselves_; our highest and fullest self.  It is not what we do\nexternally, but what we are, that measures our worth.  The real and\nlasting value of a word or an act depends largely on the weight of\ncharacter behind it.  And in character no higher effect is wrought out\nthan that which comes through endurance and heroic passivity.  To stand\nlong before closed doors of opportunity and keep serene; to see work\nwaiting, see others working, and in patience and self-control to bide\none's time,--that is more than to do any work; it is to be a man.  The\ntime comes when manhood finds itself to be power.\n\nA brook goes singing on its way, marking its course through forest and\nfield with a track of beauty and freshened life.  Men throw a dam across\nits path, and through many a long day its course is stopped and its\nwaters silently accumulate.  And the brook says, \"Alas for my lost\nfreedom and service!  Alas for the rush and sparkle and joy of my\ncascades!  Alas for the parched meadows, the unwatered ferns and mosses!\"\nBut the day comes when with a cataract leap it crosses its barrier;\nmeadow and mosses and ferns revive; and now the stored power of the\nstream is turning great mills and grinding bread for men.\n\nWashington rode as a subordinate in Braddock's army; ignorance commanded\nand knowledge looked on powerless until the mischief was done.  Twenty\nyears of quiet follow; great events are impending, eloquent men are\nrousing and leading; what is there for this silent Virginian? till\nsuddenly he finds himself the chief commander.  Then comes waiting to\nwhich all before was easy; holding away from the stronger enemy, holding\nsteady under the impatience and the doubts of friends; for one bold\nstroke, a year of waiting and watching; till, at last, victory!  And not\nto Washington victorious at Yorktown do we turn for inspiration so much\nas to Washington in the dead of winter at Valley Forge.\n\nThere are a great many women whose capacities and desires seem much\nbeyond their opportunities.  This is especially true of our New England,\nwho stimulates the brains of her children, and consigns many of her\ndaughters to a secluded life with small scope for action.  There are many\nwomen who, being unmarried, or being married and childless, or left by\nthe flight of the young birds to brood an empty nest, have not the full\nnatural outlet of a woman's activities and affections, and suffer\nconsciously or unconsciously from a partial emptiness and idleness of\nwhat is best in them.  The burden upon such lives is that of isolation.\nIsolation may be in the midst of a crowd as well as in solitude; it is\nwhen the heart is not filled that we are truly alone.  And this real\nsolitude, this isolation of the affections from their proper objects, is\nsomething so bad, so against the law of our nature, that, broadly\nspeaking, it is a matter not so much for endurance as for speedy getting\nrid of.  Do you feel yourself alone and empty-hearted?  Then you have\nnecessity indeed for fortitude and brave endurance, but above all and\nbefore all you are to get out of your solitude.  You cannot command for\nyourself the love you would gladly receive; it is not in our power to do\nthat; but that noble love which is not asking but giving,--that you can\nalways have.\n\nWherever your life touches another life, there you have opportunity.  The\nfinest, the most delicate, the most irresistible force lies in the mutual\ntouch of human lives.  To mix with men and women in the ordinary forms of\nsocial intercourse becomes a sacred function when one carries into it the\ntrue spirit.  To give a close, sympathetic attention to every human being\nwe touch; to try to get some sense of how he feels, what he is, what he\nneeds; to make in some degree his interest our own,--that disposition and\nhabit would deliver any one of us from isolation or emptiness.  There is\nbut one sight more beautiful than the mother of a family ministering\nhappiness and sunshine to them all; and that is a woman who, having no\nfamily of her own, finds her life in giving cheer and comfort to all whom\nshe reaches, and makes a home atmosphere wherever she goes.  Though she\nhave not the joy of wife and mother, she has that which is most sacred in\nwifehood and motherhood.  She shares the blessedness of that highest life\nthe earth has seen, of him who, having no home nor where to lay his head,\nbrought into other homes a new happiness, and who spoke the transforming\nword, \"It is more blessed to give than to receive.\"\n\nTake, again, the case of an invalid, who is for a long period shut out by\nillness or weakness from all ordinary activities.  There are many such to\nwhom pain and physical endurance are less trying than the feeling of\nbeing excluded from use and service, and having their moral life stunted\nor disordered by this stoppage of the natural play of the faculties.\nThere are kinds of illness, especially those of the nervous system, which\nseem to invade the seat of the will and soul itself, to irritate the\ntemper and sap the resolve and foster a self-centring egotism, by a power\nthat is literally irresistible.  Before such experiences as this one\nthought rises: it is part of mankind's business to lessen, and so far as\npossible to extirpate, these maladies.  The individual sufferer must meet\nas best he can the conditions thrust upon him, but to prevent such\nconditions from arising is the lesson for the rest of us.  We are only\nbeginning to appreciate how largely the salvation of mankind must be\nworked out through physical means.  The pestilences, the transmitted\ndiseases, the insanities, the nervous disorders, bred of violated\nlaw,--all these and the like curses, which not merely destroy human life\nbut degrade it, are to be fought and extirpated.  We must secure for\nsoul-life some fair room and chance as against these pests and tyrants.\nHere lies the noblest work of science; here, in prevention rather than in\ncure, lies the best field of that unsurpassed profession, the\nphysician's.  And, too, in this preventive work each man must learn to be\nhis own physician, and minister to himself.\n\nBut what, meantime, is our disabled and secluded invalid to do?  He is\nlike a man set to fight a battle with one arm tied behind him.  Others\nmay pity, but for him his disablement must be a motive to greater\nexertion; he must supply by courage and skill the place of the lacking\nstrength.  It is what man can do under limitations and disabilities that\nshows his high-water mark of achievement.  Any one can be cheerful in\nperfect health, but to be cheerful under weakness and pain,--_that_ is\nworth trying for!  To be considerate and unselfish, when one is at ease\nand has all he wants, does not cost much; but to take thought for others\nand to spare them, and to be sympathetic with their joys and troubles,\nwhen pain forces you to be self-conscious, and long endurance tempts you\nto become self-centred,--well, if you can do that, you are good for\nsomething.  If you can do that, have no fear that you are useless.  Such\nfruit is rare enough to be precious.  The lessons taught from many a\nsick-bed of bravery and gentleness and love,--we get no other teaching so\ngood as that.  There is many a family where it is the one who can do the\nleast who does the most,--where it is the invalid's room from which goes\nout the strongest influence of patience and sweet courage and that divine\nquality which transforms trouble.\n\nIn one sick-room in a foreign land, for years a home-loving woman has\nbeen an exile; a woman of active and eager disposition, with large,\nexecutive capacity and ripe experience, shut up almost to idleness; a\nwoman of large benevolence, who had entered on work of peculiar\nexcellence and attractiveness, cut off from all such activities.  This,\nwith frequent pain, with fluctuation of hope and discouragement as to the\nfuture; and yet there is about her an atmosphere as serene as the Alpine\nheights that look down upon her, as cheerful as the sunny Alpine pastures\nwith their tinkle of sheep-bell and hum of mountain bee.  Her constant\nthought goes out to distant friends and brings them near; her close\nattention follows the march of the world's great interests, the fortunes\nof England and Russia and America, the course of freedom and reform; a\nsense of nature's beauty, trained to fineness through years of enforced\nquietude, brings exquisite ministrations; she shares the lives of the\nlittle circle of friends about her; heart and mind are at rest in the\npeace of God.  Patience has had her perfect work.\n\n\nUp, friend! leave your law case, your sermon, your accounts, and come out\nfor an hour into this delicious March day, bracing as winter and sweet as\nspring.  The new life of the year is stirring in the trees whose tops\nbegin to redden, and in the brown pastures where watchful eyes can\nalready see the green.  The joy of the season is singing in a million\nbluebirds' and robins' throats; the cocks crow gayly; the caw of the big\nblack crow flapping overhead with ragged wing has a cheery tone.  All\nliving creatures feel the tingle and throb of the great tide of life that\nsweeps in with the returning sun.  See yonder two dogs, how they frolic,\nhow they crouch and wheel and charge and roll each other over and pretend\nto bite.  \"Pure mongrels,\" both of them, and as happy as if they were the\nmost aristocratic of Irish setters!  See near by the tree full of flowers\nthat has lasted the winter through.  That is a tulip-tree, holding up its\nthousand delicate ghostly cups.  Its grand trunk rises straight and\nunbroken full thirty feet, then branches in symmetry, and holds up as if\nto catch the sunshine and the rain its fairy goblets.  And here is an oak\nthat has not yet let go its grip on last year's dead leaves.  How sharply\nthe snow rattled on them, as if clashing on the iron which naturalists\nsay the sturdy tree holds in its blood!  Who ever sees these last oak\nleaves fall?  And who knows where this dry, dead grass vanishes when the\ngreen blades fill all its room?  Look at the horse-chestnut; already its\nbuds are shiny.  It must wait a good while before their\n\n        \"little hands unfold,\n  Softer 'n a baby's be at three days old.\"\n\n\nSharp whistles the wind to-day, but it is the breath of life that it\nbreathes into us.  It comes down from yonder hills where the snow is\nshining yet.  Grandly on the horizon lies Mount Tom, like a crouching\nlion, guardian over the fair valley.  Where the mountain line breaks,\nbetween him and his twin sentinel, Holyoke, we know that the broad\nConnecticut sweeps past Hockanum.  The glorious river,--what an unfailing\njoy it is to the eye as it curves and winds on its leisurely, steadfast\ncourse to the sea!  Here at our feet is another river, a little brook\nflowing in clear stream over the roadside sand, born of the last\nsnow-drift and living till the sun drinks it up.  And beside it are half\na dozen happy boys, paddling with their bare feet, making mud dams,\nscraping new channels and short cuts for the stream.\n\nHow black is the still water of this pond, smooth as a steel mirror! what\nperfect pictures it gives back of its woody and snow-touched banks!  The\nwoods above are solemn as that grandest work of man, an Old World\ncathedral, and free as only the Lord's own works are free, with the music\nof the wind in the great pine-tops; the gracious, infinite sky revealing\nitself through their tracery; the columnar trunks swaying now like a\nship's masts.  How at evening the setting sun glows through their black\nshafts; how ethereal the light that then fills the spaces of the wood;\nhow the stars look down through the branches in the living stillness of\nthe night!  A few steps, and below us in the hollow we see the city, all\nits commonplaceness charmed away, the vulgar noises of the streets\nblended in a soft murmur.  Not one human life moves in those streets,\ncommonplace and vulgar though it may seem, but has its own charm and\nbeauty, if we could find the right view-point, or if our sight went deep\nenough.\n\nAcross a plowed field darts in swift zigzag a gleam of blue; then,\nperched on a fence-rail, sends a thrilling song.  The bluebird is the\ntrue voice of early spring, as is the bobolink of later spring.\nBobolinks and apple-blossoms come together in the prodigal time of May.\nOur Northern spring is the most arrant of coquettes,--the most delicious\nin allurement, the swiftest in retreat.  One day she seems to pour her\nwhole heart out to us, and we think she is ours once and for all; next\nday she pelts us with sleet; buffets, freezes us; she--nay, she is gone,\nand we never shall see her again; it is the sourest shrew in the whole\nsisterhood of the year that has come in her stead!  But the true lover\nthinks not so.  He knows her woman's heart,--coying it a little, holding\nback her treasure till she sees if her worshiper be faithful, to pour it\nout all unstinted at the last, when May's perfect bridal day shall usher\nin the full and fruitful marriage blessing of the year.\n\nOn this June morning, place yourself here, under the shade of this noble,\nwide-spreading apple-tree on a garden lawn.  Last night the earth was\nwashed by showers, and a thunder-storm cleared the air.  This morning a\nfresh northwest wind breaks the clouds, and opens pure, sweet depths of\nsky.  Around us the flowers of early summer are blooming.  Over the grass\ntrip the young birds, mottle-breasted robins and bluebirds; the trees\nring with frequent song; from the barnyard comes cheery cackle and cluck,\nand the chickens stray forth to investigate the secrets and riches of the\nworld.  A catbird pours out an opera in which he takes all the parts in\nsuccession, and the voice of the wind rises and falls in mysterious,\ndelicious cadence.\n\n\"Oil and wine:\" the oil poured on the wounds to soothe and heal, the wine\ndrunk to revive and hearten with cordial life.  The Hebrew symbolism has\nits roots in strong material soil: its imagery is vigorous and\nruddy,--\"wine of gladness,\" \"oil of joy,\" \"wine that maketh glad the\nheart of man, and oil to make his face to shine, and bread which\nstrengtheneth man's heart.\"  A modern psalmist might add, \"and coffee\nwhich uplifts his spirit, and tobacco which soothes his cares.\"\n\nJesus chose, as the two symbols by which he would be remembered, bread\nand wine.  Bread stands for nourishment and substantial support, wine for\nexhilaration and joy.  When his disciples were full of the sorrow of\napproaching parting, he showed them that the loss was only in semblance:\nthe reality was to be a higher energy, a purer joy,--bread to eat, wine\nto drink,--not death, but life.  The sorrow attendant on death and loss\nis to be esteemed but the pangs that usher in life.  \"A woman when she is\nin travail hath sorrow, because her hour is come; but as soon as she is\ndelivered of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that\na man is born into the world.\"\n\n\"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach\nthe gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to\npreach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind,\nto set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of\nthe Lord.\"  What a key-note is that,--how jubilant, tender, strong!\n\nAs the earth revolving passes alternately into light and shadow, so human\nlife in its divine appointment moves by turns through sorrow and through\njoy.  Each has its service for the soul, as for the earth has day and\nnight each its ministry and message.  Of pain come hardihood and strength\nand sympathy.  What a sapless, fibreless thing is a man untrained by\nendurance and untaught by suffering!  How flaccid in muscle, how narrow\nin intelligence, how shallow in affection!\n\nYet, as to an all-beholding eye the sun pours light through all the\nplanetary spaces, and the night, which to us on the world's darkened side\nseems all-enfolding, is in truth but a shadowy fleck in the vast\nsun-steeped sphere: so, of the soul's universe, the native, all-pervasive\nelement is conscious good.  Gladness is man's proper atmosphere.  It is\nby the impulse of his deepest nature that he seeks joy, it is by the\nforce of spiritual gravitation that he is drawn to it.  But two hard\nlessons await him.  One is, that to reach that goal he must trust himself\nto a higher Power, his own effort and purpose being to obey that Power.\nThe other is, that the goal is not for one alone, but for all; and he can\nreach it only as he shares the common lot, making himself partner in the\nvicissitudes of his comrades, rejoicing with them that rejoice and\nweeping with them that weep.  On our long voyage the stars by which we\nsteer must be Duty and Love.  The stars guide us, the winds and currents\nbear us, to the port of perfect good.  The instinct of our journey's end\nwe call Hope; the instinct by which we cleave to our true course, even\nwhen wholly doubtful of its end, and though false lights beckon us\nalluringly,--that instinct we call Faith.\n\nOpen your eyes upon the world on such a morning as this.  Forget your own\ncares long enough to really see, but for a moment, yonder spray of roses\nwaving in the breeze.  Watch the play of light and shade in the\nflickering leaves overhead.  Listen to the chorus of voices from bird,\ninsect, and wind.  The wine of gladness!  Nature pours it in a sparkling\nflood, unceasing by day and night, for every one who will drink.\n\nNature pours the wine of gladness, but only from the mingling of human\nhearts comes the oil of tenderness.  From sorrow it gets its sacred\nfragrance, from mutual service it draws its healing power, from the\nbitterness of parting it wins the sweetness of an inexpressible hope.\n\nIt was under the stroke of a great bereavement, the death of his child,\nthat Emerson, in the \"Threnody,\" gave utterance to highest consolation\nsoaring out of sorrow's darkness.  It was under the shadow of that loss\nthat he heard the voice,--\n\n  \"Saying, What is excellent,\n  As God lives, is permanent;\n  Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain,\n  Heart's love will meet thee again.\"\n\n\nIt is the same voice that speaks through all the ages.  It speaks through\nIsaiah, \"to give beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the\ngarment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.\"  It speaks in Paul, when\nin one sentence he gives the relation with God and his fellows into which\nman may come when out of darkness is born light.  \"Blessed be God, even\nthe Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God\nof all comfort; who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be\nable to comfort them which are in any trouble by the comfort wherewith we\nourselves are comforted of God.\"\n\nWhere, asks the stricken heart, shall I find the God of comfort?  O\nheart, only God himself shall answer you!  But know this, that the very\nend and purpose of grief is that it shall be comforted.  Comfort?  The\nword has no meaning except to those who have mourned; was never stamped\nwith its sacred significance except by those who had been through the\ndeep waters of grief.  \"As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I\ncomfort you.\"  A man child, a woman child, He trains you to fullness of\nstature, to greatness of experience, to capacity for noble joy, for\nheart-sufficing love.  To greatness and to joy he calls us, and draws us\nslowly by the changing years.  The cross is the symbol of a passing\nexperience.  The end, the attainment, is figured to us by that face of\nNature which is the face of God, with the strength of the mountains, the\ngladness of the sunlight, the freedom of the sky, the infinitude of the\nocean.\n\n\nThe ripe days of early autumn open their best joys only to the sturdy\nwalker, who turns his back on the streets to seek the country roads, and\nleaves the roads behind him to explore the forest nooks, the ravines, and\nthe sheltered meadows, hidden deftly away from the incurious traveler,\nand keeping a wild sweetness for him who finds them out for himself.  If\none is in good tune, he may get the finest flavor of such a walk by\ntaking it alone, or with only rarely perfect companionship.  The ideal\ncompanion is one who can fully enjoy, who will help you to glimpses\nthrough another pair of eyes, and who will never obtrude inopportunely\nbetween yourself and nature.  If a satisfactory human comrade be not at\nhand, one may find these qualities in no ordinary degree in--a good dog.\nBut then to appreciate them one must be a true dog-lover, a gift which\nis, alas! denied to some otherwise exemplary and worthy people.\n\nWhat does the dog think of it all?  He has his own keen pleasures.  His\nnose is an organ of intelligence and enjoyment which his master does not\npossess.  He explores woodchuck holes; he tracks real or imaginary\nsquirrels; one barks and scolds at him from a high limb, and throws him\ninto a delicious fever of excitement.  As Fox said the greatest pleasure\nin life was to win at cards, and the next greatest to lose at cards, so\napparently the dog finds even an unsuccessful chase to be the second best\njoy he knows.  Look at him, tense and motionless with excitement, as he\nwatches the noisy chatterer overhead!  No doubt the squirrel will brag to\nall his acquaintances of how he openly defied and triumphed over his huge\nenemy.\n\nA chestnut bough swings low, and with hospitable hand proffers a\nhalf-open burr, out of which shine the glossy brown nuts.  Sweet is the\ntaste of the nuts.  Sweet is the crisp red apple into which we bite, and\nwith just a hint of the flavor of stolen fruit.\n\nWhat audacious pen will try to reproduce or even dryly catalogue the\nglories poured out for eye and ear, for heart and brain, upon a bright\nand cool September day?  The deep-glowing sumacs, the asters purple and\nwhite mixed with flaming goldenrod, in a splendid audacity of color such\nas only One artist dare venture on; the occasional dash of scarlet upon a\nmaple, a first wave of the great tide that is sweeping up to cover the\nwhole north country; the masses of yet unbroken green left neither dimmed\nnor dusty by the generous, moist summer; the oaks that will long hold\ntheir green flag in unchanging tint, as if \"no surrender\" were written on\nit, and then, last of all the trees, change to a hue of matchless depth\nand richness, like the life-blood of a noble heart that shows its full\nintensity only just before death's translation falls upon it; the\nseparate tint of each leaf and vine, \"good after its kind;\" the soft\nwhiteness of the everlastings in the hill-pastures; the reaped buckwheat\nfields heaped with their sheaves, stubble and sheaves alike drenched in a\nfine wine of color; the solemn interior of the woods, with the late\nsunlight touching the shafts of the pines; the partridge-berry and the\nwhite mushroom growing beneath, as in a cathedral one sees bright-faced\nchildren kneeling to say their prayers at the foot of the solemn pillars;\nthe masses of light and of shadow--one cannot say which is the\ntenderer--lying on the cool meadows as evening draws on; the voice of\nunseen waters, the voice of the wind in the pines.\n\nAnd so, with song, with autumn colors, with sunset lights, the Mother\ncalls her children home.","title":"The Chief End of Man","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":74727}