"Inspiration."

In inaugurating the 1830 session I might have referred to the progress made by our Society during the past year. Instead of doing this, however, I propose to deal with a subject—the Doctrine of Inspiration—that is a fundamental one in all religious systems.

Before, however, dealing with it, I may say a few words as to our position. We are not a sect, neither are we a religious society. Amongst us there is, I might say, every variety of opinion. In one thing only is there an agreement—the right and the duty of every man to examine every subject for himself, and to think freely, and to speak freely what he may think. This we believe to be our highest duty, and this independent altogether of the consequences that may result from our action. We search for the true and the true alone, we believe, and we so act fearlessly, and careless whether some of our fellow citizens may feel angry with us, or shocked at our actions. With Martineau we believe that "no inquirer can fix a direct and clear-sighted gaze towards truth, who is casting side glances all the while on the prospects of his soul." As we are not a sect, so are we not a political party. In politics, as in religion, we are not agreed. We recognise no authority competent to dictate to us. Each must believe what he considers true, and act up to his belief—granting the same right to everyone else. This we believe to be true freedom. We cannot therefore be expected to act as one man at election times. We have no block vote. And if we are ridiculed at times, and denounced on other occasions, we are not affected thereby. This, however, we are, I think determined on, that if religious or quasi-religious and political associations unite to deprive us of our rights as citizens, then we will be found defending our position. We are not, however, like some bodies, anxiously searching for converts. The conversion we believe in can only come after care, study, and courage; and if any of our fellow-citizens are not careful in what they believe, do not freely examine the creeds that abound, and have not the courage of their opinions, they had better seek the congenial companionship of some other associations and not ask to join us. This, then, is our position: and one word more as to our success. We recognise that our warfare is not an easy one. Hereditary beliefs, backed as the popular creeds of the day are backed, have great vitality. Our progress must necessarily be slow, but we believe its very slowness only makes its ultimate success all the more certain. Compare the freedom of treatment that is extended to theological subjects in our day with what was accorded to them twenty years ago, and the contrast is marvellous. Read the discussions in synods and assemblies, peruse the articles in encyclopædlas, reviews, magazines, and newspapers, and must we not wonder at the rapid development of freethought? We have to remember that on us rest great responsibilities. History tells us that every new party that has disbelieved the popular creeds has met with opprobrium and harsh criticism, and sometimes persecution. It is our duty to show that a disbelief in the popular creeds does not lessen our respect for what is right or just. By this means we may become "living epistles," preaching more effectually than by words, that the abandonment of old creeds may lead to good deeds and a pure life.

I now come to the subject about which I propose to offer a few observations—Inspiration. It lies at the foundation of all those systems that pretend to be emanations from the Deity, I do not think it will be said Inspiration is necessary before man can have a religion. A man may be a truly religious person—one who is good and does good—without Inspiration. But If we are to have a formulated system of belief—a theology—then it is said Inspiration is required. And if it is asserted that we cannot become acquainted with theology as we learn geology or music, then certainly Inspiration is needed. Almost all theological systems are based on what is termed a divine revelation. Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Mahommedanism, Mormonism, alike claim to be a system divinely revealed to man. Not only does each system claim to be the system that has been revealed, but we find that each sect believes that its little system is the only true one. There may be a difference of belief amongst the various systems I have named as to the mode in which the divine page 2 communication has been made, but that there has been a revelation all agree in asserting. One may believe that Deity actually traced with His finger on stone certain moral precepts; another, that holy men spoke about subjects of which they were ignorant; others, that a Church, through its chief officer, or through an assembly of its leading clergy, is now inspired to make known to men truths they could not otherwise discover; others, that certain tablets have been hid which were only revealed to Joseph Smith. In this, however, they all agree, that to them a revelation has come. Each system has its sacred book or books, and without this sacred literary work, it is said, there could be neither morality nor religion. To Christians generally the Bible is infallibly true,—every word, nay, every letter is true, It contains the utterances of holy men, impelled to write concerning things of which they wore ignorant, and these utterances are infallibly true. These writers penned history, noted current events, and prophesied; and what they did was not their own work, but the direct revelation of Deity. I need net mention the names of these through whom it is said the communications came. We are told that Moses, Samuel, Ezra, Solomon, David, Matthew, Mark, Paul, and others were the writers. It is, however, somewhat strange that who were the writers of some of the books is not certain, and that the critics find it difficult to decide on the dates when the works were penned. As it is difficult to decide the questions of authorship and date, so it is not easy to find out what additions have been made by compilers. Most critics now admit that even Mark's Gospel has been added to; and as for the Pentateuch, very few will venture to assert that the five books are the production of one man. It is out of place, also, to consider the character of the men who were selected to convey messages from Deity to men. Regarding some of them it may be said that they did things that nowadays would not be considered moral or proper.

1. The method in which the communication was made is not clearly stated. We are given to understand that God moved certain men to write, and that what they were going to write they did not know. It was a mental process. They did not find tablets written for them; nor did they in many instances fancy they heard voices. They had what we would term a mental impression, and they wrote. The method is thus summed up by a popular preacher:—"The influence exerted upon, and the guidance vouchsafed to, the holy men of God, who wrote as they were moved by the Holy Ghost, was such that whether they understood or not the revelations which they had been commissioned to proclaim and unfold, the words uttered and penned by them were absolutely and throughout the very words of God." In fact, as another writer has said, "God himself was the revealer, and the prophet only the mouthpiece or amanuensis through whom the revelation was spoken or recorded," Although the inspired man was only an amanuensis, his writings were always In a language he understood. It is true that at one time we read of inspired persons talking in strange tongues, but the recorder of this event does not, or cannot, say what was said. Of course, to be an intelligible revelation, the words used by the persons addressed in their everyday talk must be employed, and what this implies I will show by-and-bye. We are now dealing with the mode, and we may sum it up as mental impression. If it was anything more, the writers have not said so, unless, indeed, we are to take the phrases, "Son of man, write," &c., as something heard by the writers. If we do, then there would be two modes—1. A mental impression simply. 2. A mental impression that voices were heard addressing the writer. Regarding many of the writers this may be said, that they are not only silent as to the mode in which they were inspired, but they do not even say they were inspired. But this also I must again refer to.

I now come to the second head—the necessity for inspiration. I am not at present dealing with the wide question of the need of a revelation. I am only asking when is inspiration needed.

And (a) Inspiration is not required to enable an observer to detail occurrences that come under his own observation.

(b) Nor is it needed by an historian, who will carefully weigh the statements of observers of events.

(c) Nor is it required by one who predicts what will occur, unless the prophecies are to infallibly occur, and they are easily verifiable.

(a) Dealing with my first proposition, that inspiration is not required to enable an observer to relate what he has seen, no one would pretend to say that if Moses was present at Sinai, and the events recorded concerning the "giving of the law" occurred in his presence, he could not have written an account of them. Nor need I limit Moses' powers to a single event. page 3 Many men write autobiographies—some of these works are true, and some of them have only grains of truth amid much that is not true. If Moses could write and kept a diary, he could record all that happened to himself or of which he was cognisant. No inspiration was required to enable him to do this. And so with Ezra, with Matthew, and with Mordecai, if he is the author of the book of Esther. And here let me mention a principle that we should never forget in testing anything—the law of parcimony. Sir William Hamilton thus enunciates this law:—"It prohibits, without a proven necessity, the multiplication of entities, powers, or principles, or causes; above all, the postulation of an unknown force where a known impotence can account for the phenomenon or, as he has summed it up in another place:—"Neither more, nor more onerous, causes are to be assumed than are necessary to account for the phenomena." Now the Spirit of the Deity was not required to enable an onlooker to relate what he saw: why then invoke His aid? And if we find that several people narrating the same events tell them differently, we must conclude that the narrators were human, and not amanuenses of a Deity. The personal bias is proved. No two men ever describe the same event alike. One incident appears to one the more important, another to another. Hardly two photographers with the same camera will take the same landscape alike. And we need not expect two men to detail, for example, the incidents of a cab collision alike. But if Deity were the narrator, we would look for the same story as we would do if a man wrote two accounts of the same transaction. We would expect identity, if not agreement, in the stories. In the Bible we find that when the same thing is told by the same writer—by Moses, for example—a disagreement. The Ten Commandments, as related in Exodus, differ from those as recorded in Deuteronomy. And in the New Testament there is the same thing witnessed. Even the form of the Lord's Prayer, as recorded by Mat. thew, differs from that told by us by Luke. Either, then, there was a difference in the language of the prayer, or else the two writers' memories differed. But keeping in view the law of parcimony, we do not require to evoke the aid of a new cause. Men can record what they see. I have mentioned the differences of the Commandments and the Prayer to show that what, by applying the law of parcimony, we would expect to find, we discover.

(b) My second proposition was that inspiration was not needed to write history. An historian must assume that truth is sometimes told. He must, assuming that, argue from probabilities, and, keeping in view the social forces operating in his own time, ask himself what was likely to have occurred in the past. This is what we see done. There are histories of England, of Australia, of the Jews. Now the books of the Bible that relate history are few. And unless we are to believe that all the events recorded as historical are absolutely true, the history books do not seem to me of a very high order. There is a want of philosophical grasp and outlook. In many cases they are dry chronicles of kings and war, and of the efforts of priests and prophets. They lack all the most interesting parts of history—the record of the rise and development of the morals, the intelligence, the industry, and the wealth of the nation. But, as it happens, it is only of late that it has been recognised that true history is not wholly concerned about kings and battles. Now if it is said that this history so chronicled is true, and in a sense in which no other history can be true, then we ask for proof; and I think it will not be forthcoming. Who believes nowadays the historical portions of the Bible to be accurate? Do we not see every day efforts made to explain away the incidents recorded? This is allegory; that is poetry; &c., &c. But if we find several things recorded untrue, must we not say that this history differs in no respect from the works of other historians? And what of the two differing accounts of the Creation, of the record of the flood, of the Israelites in Egypt, &c.?

(c) My third statement is that even to prophesy inspiration is not required, unless the predictions are verifiable and actually occur. All men predict. We all act on the assumption of the uniformity of Nature. We say that if a man does not plough and sow his fields he will reap no harvest. This is a prophecy. So we assert that if a man goes on getting drunk he will shorten his life and lose his money. Another prediction Or we may take higher ground. We may carefully analyse our social life and its diverse forces. We may calmly scan the records of the past and discover what has resulted from a like social state; and if we do so, acting on the assumption of the uniformity of Nature's action, we may predict that a certain result will follow. This is a higher or a wider kind of prophecy, and for it no inspiration is needed. And I may say that this kind of prophecy is the foundation of all our social legislation, of all our political economy. We are supposed to be able to say, given a certain state of things, a certain result will follow. If, however, prophecy page 4 means foretelling the happening of some isolated thing—faxing an exact time and place for its fulfilment—then I ask for the prophecy at present unfulfilled that comes up to this definition. I do not know one. I do know that writers on prophecy do not agree, and that dates are continually changing. The year 1866 was to be a terrible year, and now it is to be 1882. When that time arrives a new writer will no doubt discover that the year will be in the 90's. I don't think much of a prophecy that is so obscure that hardly two persons can tell what it means. But it will be said, But there have been prophecies that have been fulfilled. I do not know of one that was clear and positive that has been fulfilled. If the Messianic prophecies are invoked, I note that those who were supposed to know the sacred Jewish writings best did not think so. And what, I ask, is the use of a prophecy that is so worded that able, learned, and pious men cannot understand it? And I ask any candid reader to read Thomas Paine's "Examination of the Passages in the New Testament quoted from the Old, and called prophecies of Jesus Christ," and to say whether Paine's examination is not unanswerable. However, it is only a small part, a very small part, that deals with prophecies fulfilled. And if the stray passages in the Old Testament that are called prophecies, and are said to have been fulfilled, were inspired, there would still remain the greater portion of the Bible requiring something to evidence its inspiration other than prophecies fulfilled.

I now come to the verification of inspiration. And first as to a revelation at all. A revelation to be understandable must be in the language of the persons to whom it is addressed. If it were otherwise it would be no revelation. Were we addressed in a language we did not know, the person who addressed us might have saved himself the trouble. If, then, the words that are to be used are the words in daily use, what can come from a revelation? Can anything new be told us? For example, suppose the message to be given is, "Man's soul is immortal." What is the meaning of these words—soul—immortal? Before the revelation came, the ideas of soul and of immortality existed. No absolutely new thing can therefore be communicated. Existing ideas may be adopted and changed, but the germ of them existed. Inspiration follows language—it does not precede it; and following it, what can it tell us that we ourselves did not before know? If words were used of the meaning of which the hearer was ignorant, it is no revelation to the hearer. And the writer—the amanuensis—he also must only be asked to transcribe what words he knows; if he knows them, the revelation is not absolutely new to him. And this may be said: that the lower the social and moral state of a people, the poorer its language. And the people that has a poor language—few words, if any, for abstract ideas—has, physiologists tell us, a poorly-developed brain. Unless his brain has developed, there is no use in talking of abstract things to a man. He cannot understand you.

But let us assume that this difficulty is got over, and that we were present when the person inspired was acting as the amanuensis; and after some passages had been transcribed the amanuensis had said, I feel that I am impelled to write what I have written—impelled by the Spirit of God—what would any of us say if we were present? Would we not say, You state that you are impelled so to write, but how do we know that? May you not be deceived? We, who are watching you, feel no internal impulse that what you state is true—and even if we did, impulses are not always reliable. This feeling of an internal impulse is not new nor rare. It has not been confined to any nation or time. Is humanity then to believe what any sincere one states he feels he is Impelled to utter? Were it so, humanity would be very credulous—for the impulse has not ceased. The Spirit of God, one large body of Christians tell us, is still active, aiding and assisting the chief officer in their church to promulgate doctrines; still aiding some of the subordinate officers and members—to work miracles. Suppose, then, a person actually to feel an impulse to write, and to act on the impulse, is that any evidence to us that all he states is true? Great men, good men, I may say holy men, have been themselves deceived, and have deceived others. Then remember that those who believe the Spirit of the Deity acts in the way we are told holy men were inspired, must also believe that the Spirit of Deity inspires men to tell lies, for we read of lying prophets—of men being inspired to foretell what was not the fact and not to be the fact. How, then, is the evidence of inspiration to be tested? I assert, then, that if all the difficulties of authorship—of date, of alteration of the books, &c., were got over, this question would still remain—Had we been present when the books were penned, it would have been as difficult to decide on their inspiration as it is now.

I have, you will observe, assumed that the writers claim to be inspired and claim to be infallible. But there are many books in which the writers page 5 make no such claim. Not that the claim would amount to much; for if the claim to be Inspired were to be sufficient evidence of inspiration, those who could, or would, claim the most would be the most highly gifted, and humanity would be placed under the heel of anyone who shouted his own in-fallibility.

We must test the claim by reason, and never forget the law of parcimony; and if we test inspiration by reason, do we not thereby admit that our reasoning powers transcend revelation? I know it is said that it is the duty of man to test the truth of a revelation by reason, and as soon as the reason says that the evidence for a revelation is sufficient, then the function of Reason is gone. Were this so, it would show that the evidence of inspiration would require to be complete. Faith has no place till the revelation is proved. But can we so abandon our reasoning powers? Suppose we find in the revelation something we consider wrong, are we to stifle reason and conscience? Or are we not led to assume that this, which is called revelation, is not anything more than the words of men? Were we then to get over the first step—the external proof of the inspiration of what are termed inspired books—the internal evidence could not be ignored. If we found that a book said that the Deity sanctioned murder, lying, polygamy, and slavery, we would feel bound to say that we did not and could not believe it. So you see that, assuming we were present when the books were written—assuming that at such interview the writer produced credentials sufficient to entitle us to believe he was inspired—our reason could not then bow down before the book. We would ask to peruse the revelation, and if it from its contents taught us things we could not believe, we would be entitled to say that, though the external evidence seemed conclusive, the Internal evidence was against the belief that the book was inspired. I need not say the external evidence is not conclusive; and, as for the internal evidence, it is to me sufficient to say that hardly one person In a hundred can read certain passages in the Bible without a shudder.

I have dealt with the three things to be noticed in connection with this subject: How the communication was made; the necessity for it; and the method of verification. One very instructive thing should not be overlooked: When and how was it determined that the books we say are inspired were the only inspired books? The Samaritan canon had only the Pentateuch; the Palestinian had 22 books, but, it is believed, similar to what is recognised by Protestants generally; whilst the Alexandrian included what is termed the Apocrypha: but who finally decided what was and what was not to be included in the canon in Jewish days none can tell. And Dr Davidson says—"The pure Hebrew canon was not one and the same among all Jews." And further he adds—"A stereotyped canon of the Old Testament, either among Jews or Christians, of the first five centuries, which excluded all the apocryphal books and included all canonical ones, cannot be shown." And how the canon of the Now Testament grew up would require some time to state. In one of the earliest of the Church Councils—that of Laodicea, in 363—what we term the Bible was not the Bible of the Council; and if reference is had to the Early Fathers, it will be found that hardly two of them agreed as to what was inspired and what was not. As a writer says regarding the formation of the canon—Uncritical at its commencement, it was equally so in the two centuries, the fourth and fifth." And if we come down to later times, we find men like Luther hesitating to follow Augustine or Jerome. Of the apocryphal book of the wisdom of Jesus, the son of Sirach, he says he was long in doubt whether it should be numbered among the canonical books; and of the book of Esther he did not consider it was divine; the Epistle of the Hebrews also he would have cast out, and Revelations he did not consider canonical, nor the Epistles of James and Jude. And the Roman Catholic canon includes books excluded by that of the Protestants, and the Greek Church agrees with the Roman Catholic. I mention all these things to show that what one would have supposed to have been made clear, what was or was not a revelation, is left in hopeless obscurity. And when we examine the books we find a progression or development. Even some of the apocryphal books are stages between the Old and New Testaments. The Bible was not written all at once. With it, as with other things, we behold a growth. It partakes, therefore, of the nature of ether works. We do not find anything has happened like the fabled Minerva. Wisdom does not come all at once. The history of the Bible shows that it was only bit by bit compiled. And its history is the history of everything around us. Let us take the development of music. Up to its present state of perfection how slow has been its progress! At the time of Solomon it seems to have been fairly developed—as well, perhaps, a writer says, as the present Chinese music. And the most artistic nation of the world—the Greeks— page 6 was far behind us in music. Compared with ours, Grecian music was poor. Then from the rough painting on the rocks to the latest landscape picture, what a development has been made! and by almost imperceptible steps. If we take an illustration from mechanics, the same tale is told. Compare Watts' steam-engine or Stephenson's locomotive with the engines of the Rotomahana or the latest Fairlie, and how great the contrast! Yet the improvements have been by littles. And if we turn to the history of philosophy or of science, we find the same development there. For example, who was the first Evolutionist? When one strives to answer that question, does he not find hero an obscure hint, there a doubtful suggestion? Erasmus Darwin, Lamarck, Buffon, Goethe, Patrick Matthew, St. Hilairs, were all Evolutionists, but none of them formulated the doctrino as Herbert Spencer has done.

To all that I have said it may be answered, Is not the Bible unique? I think it will be difficult to draw any distinction between some of the apocryphal books and some deemed canonical. But even were it granted that the Bible was unique, it may be replied, So are the sacred books of other nations for which inspiration is claimed. To the sincere follower of the Prophet Mahomet the Koran is unique, while to many in Asia the Vedas have never had books written equal to them. We also say Shakespeare is unique. Who is equal to him amongst our dramatists? And so it might be said of all works of genius. But are we to say that these are inspired works? Just as well say that some masterpiece of the sculptor or painter was inspired. And here I must deal with the moral effect of this doctrine. Let me first premise that it is the duty of the inquirer to ask himself the question, True or false? He has nothing to do with side issues. He must believe that discovering what is true cannot in the end hurt humanity. No doubt a transition state is dangerous. Men trained under the iron heel of despotism may, if suddenly granted full liberty, not use the boon so well as those who have been free from their youth. Thus it is that in some nations ceremonial observances, the use of titles, &c., may serve a useful purpose. But once the nation is far removed from barbarism—has tasted the sweets of liberty and intelligence,—then these "childish things" can be put away. So in individual history it may happen that one who has been trained in a certain belief since his youth may, when he finds that belief false, so act that one might regret that his former restraints had been removed. We find travellers telling us that amongst the Chinese, and amongst many other nations, the converts to Christianity do not always have the honesty of those whose minds are dominated by their ancestral faith; and it may be—may I venture to say it is—that some who, trained to believe in inspired books from their youth, do not act as they should when they find that the religious notions they have imbibed have no certain foundation in fact. This must, I think, be admitted. There are others in our community who, through heredity and early training, have so little self-control that "the fear of hell" is perhaps the only thing that can keep them in order. This difficulty always crops up in transition stages. Another objection may be urged. Some exclaim. What! take away the divinity, the infallibility of the Bible, that Book that has given so much succour to those in distress? A pious Buddhist might make a similar exclamation. What! destroy our religion, in which so many of the great and good of India have died happy? And so might Mahomedans argue. What we are concerned with is, Is inspiration a fact? If it is not, the sooner the world gets rid of phantasies the better. But what, I ask, is the higher moral education—that which teaches humanity that to a small portion of mankind only did Deity deign to give inspired books, whilst the rest were left to utter darkness; or that which tells all men that they are on a level, and that to each of them is set the problem to raise himself? That which teaches men that on the great questions of social and political government, of philosophy, of science, of the Cosmos page 7 Deity has not deigned to enlighten his creatures, but that he has told them only Rome moral precepts which he has had to vary, and given them what is called instruction in theology; or that which says that it is only from study that enlightenment in these subjects can be obtained? Which will do the most good to men—to point out to them that books written long ago could not have bee penned by men, or that which can point to the advances man has made in literature as an encouragement to others to follow in their steps? Which is the more likely to be fruitful in the future—that system which looks upon the Deity as up to a certain time to have actively interfered with his creatures by inspiring writers, sending angels to their chief men, working miracles, but that such interference absolutely ceased when men's intelligence and powers of observation increased; or that system which says the only inspiration you can get is from care, study, and work? Which, think you, will hereafter influence the world the more? Which is even now influencing modern thought? What scientist, what philosopher, what political economist now believes that the Bible is of use to him in his studies of science, of philosophy, of political economy? Hardly one. And can it be that we must depend for our morality or our religion on a book? I apprehend that without morality the race would not exist. The race has existed and increased without the Bible. Or I may put it in another way, quoting from "The Data of Ethics," by Spencer: "It must be either admitted or denied that the acts called good, and the acts called bad, naturally conduce, the one to human well-being and the other to human ill-being. Is it admitted, then the admission amounts to an assertion that the conduciveness is shown by experience, and this Involves abandonment of the doctrine that there is no origin for morals apart from divine inspiration. Is it denied that acts classed as good and bad differ in their effects? Then it is tacitly affirmed that human affairs would go on just as well in ignorance of the distinction, and the alleged need of commandments from God disappears. . . . The notion that such and such actions are made respectively good and bad simply by divine injunction, is tantamount to the notion that such and such actions have not, in the nature of things, such and such kinds of effects." Or, to put it in my own words, if good actions lead to happiness, and ill actions to misery, then humanity will be able, without inspiration, to find out the class of actions that suits it best. If they do not—that is, if good and evil actions have the same results—then what is the use of making any distinction between them?

True morality has no need, therefore, of inspiration. For what, then, is it needed? I leave those who assert its necessity to answer. We cannot be blind to the fact that inspiration is still claimed, and that the power to work miracles is still claimed as existing. When we examine that which is said to be inspired we find nothing very startling: nothing produced that study and average ability could not produce. We must therefore assume that inspiration is only necessary to those who are idle, or who lack the average intellectual endowments of men; and if we examine the modern miracles we find them worked where there is the least intelligence, and those that are said to be genuine are very puerile. Compare what is said to be inspired with the works of the scientists, or compare the modern miracles with the things done by the experimenters, and the contrast is not favourable to either inspiration or modern miracles.

And now let me bring my brief criticisms to a conclusion. I have had, in order to bring my remarks within a short compass, to condense my arguments, and to omit many illustrations. The aim of our Association is to provoke thought; those of our members who are present can, in agreeing or disagreeing with me, work out for themselves the hints I have given. We shall, no doubt, be told that in freely criticising the Bible we do not appreciate its beauties nor understand its grandeur. I deny both statements. I assert, on the contrary, it is we alone, who do not admit its infallibility, that can appreciate its beauties, can admit its sublimity. It does not dominate us. We admit its usefulness as a grand, nay, a noble record of humanity's struggles. It is to us full of the lights and shades of life, of the greatnesses and weaknesses of humanity, and to us all is it a hope for the future. The Bible has not suddenly been closed. It is still being written. The race is being formed, and each unit of society can help to make the future grander than the past. And when we find, as Evolution teaches us, that as we sow so shall we reap, that as the fathers are so will be the children, there is a commanding force leading us to right action, grander and greater than the commandments Moses promulgated.

Nor need we waste our efforts, as some do, to make the old bottles of Hebrew literature hold the new wines of science. We recognise the good that has been done by the many Bibles of the many nations, but by them we are not bound. They act as page 8 Paul says the law acted, as a mere school-master to bring us up to a grander conception of Nature, of Deity, and of humanity. We have no dread of the future. With the poet each of us may exclaim—

My soul is not a palace of the past,
Where outworn creeds, like Rome's grey senate, quake;
Hearing afar the Vandal's trumpet hoarse,
That shakes old systems with a thunder fit:
The time is ripe, and rotten ripe, for change—
Then let it come, I have no dread of what
Is called for by the instinct of mankind,
Nor think I that God's world will fall apart
Because we tear a parchment more or less.
Truth is eternal, but her effluence
With endless change is fitted to the hour;
Her mirror is turn'd forward to reflect The promise of the future, not the past.

To me it seems that the truly religious man is he who refuses to worship a book, but who in looking around him—in peering into stellar space or endeavouring to understand the functions of the millions of creatures with which we are surrounded—admits that there is an Un-knowable he cannot penetrate. He alone gets an idea of the immensity of Nature, of the grandeur of her laws, and of his own littleness and weakness: and he alone feels that

Slowly the Bible of the race is writ,
And not on paper leaves nor leaves of stone;
Each age, each kindred adds a verse to it,
Texts of despair or hope, of joy or moan.