possible that thought or research may throw some light, and no authority of a real or pretended revelation can deprive it of this right; but, on the other hand, it is not justified in rejecting a doctrine solely on the ground that it is above the unaided power of human reason to ascertain.

In accordance with this rule it will be our duty, whatever may be our sources, to examine, on its own merits, each doctrine that comes before us, and not confine ourselves to an exposition of any authoritative system.

We must now ask whether in considering the problems of what is generally described as natural religion any restraint is to be placed on the exercise of the rational and critical powers. In this connexion we may observe two different kinds of temperament, which we may call the rationalistic and the spiritual. The former is predominantly critical and negative, and its positive convictions are founded upon observation and reasoning. The latter spontaneously embraces grand spiritual ideas, which seem to carry their own justification, and is impatient with any criticism that can disturb the serenity of its faith. Both of these have their place in theological inquiry. Theological questions may be divided into intellectual and spiritual. The former must submit their claims unreservedly to the decision of knowledge and reason, and must not pretend to any a priori certainty on account of their association with the latter. The authorship of a book, for instance, must be ascertained by purely literary methods, and can in no wise reveal itself even to the highest spiritual exaltation. The humility of prayer can no more disclose to us past events than our musical taste can give us a knowledge of Hebrew. But, on the other hand, the grand spiritual relations which bind man to a higher world, the spiritual laws which ought to govern his conduct, the loveliness of duty, the dignity of faith, the honour of self-sacrifice, the exaltation of the lowly, the immortality of virtue, the holiness and love of God, invariably hide themselves from our criticism, while they

disclose themselves to our devout contemplation. Here the intellect must accept the data which are supplied by the religious consciousness,1 and its function is to draw forth these data, and give them rational expression. This distinction is sufficiently plain, and ought to be carefully observed. But many questions are of a mixed kind, and require an intimate co-working of intellectual and spiritual faculty; for instance, the relation in which Christ stands to the human race necessarily rests on an historical basis; and the historical method by itself, if the soul was dead to certain Christian experiences, might lead us astray. So also, in the interpretation of sacred writings it is imperative to consider the strict grammatical sense of the words; yet no one who has not a living communion with the spirit of the writer can be a sound interpreter. Devotion and acumen, insight and observation, reverence and logic must go hand in hand, and each contribute its own special offering to the temple of truth.

If these observations be correct, we may lay down the following canon for the use of the intellect in religious questions:-It has an inalienable right (a) to investigate all questions of outward fact; (b) to consider whether the statement of a doctrine is logically self-consistent, and whether it is consistent with knowledge derived from other fields of inquiry; (c) to draw inferences from a doctrine, and compare the conclusion thus arrived at with conclusions drawn from other sources.

On the other hand, we may easily deduce the danger attending a one-sided intellectualism. Cardinal Newman speaks of the all-corroding, all-dissolving scepticism of the intellect in religious inquiries.' This, however, is hardly true of the intellect as such, though it may have some application to the rationalistic temperament. The intellect

1 This position, however, must itself be rationally justified, and we shall attempt its justification further on.

2 Apologia pro Vita sua, p. 379.

can only work upon the data supplied to it. If, then, it derives all its data from the senses, while it is blind to the data furnished by religious experience, it must necessarily tend towards negative results in religion; and as men are generally far prouder of their defects than of their gifts, it may lead to an arid conceit, than which nothing is more injurious to the perception of religious truth. To one who is in this state of mind the higher reaches of the human mind are simply unknown; and his arrogant assumption of superiority to vulgar superstition proves nothing but the limitation of his own faculties. The quality of men's judgment of probability depends upon their entire character; and where the nobler moral and spiritual endowments are lacking, the keenest intelligence may go fatally astray, especially in questions affecting the deeper issues of human life.

2. The Moral Nature and Revelation

From the intellectual we pass to the moral nature of man. This subject as a whole must be left to treatises on ethical philosophy; but a few remarks are necessary here. The consideration of the moral nature enters into theology because there are some religious doctrines, such as that God reveals his will in the human soul, which find in ethics. their strongest support; there are others, such as the doctrines of sin, accountability, and redemption, which relate directly to our moral condition; and, when a claim is made on behalf of revelation, even when the assumption of accuracy in matters of physical science is abandoned, moral precepts are usually regarded as an express portion of the revelation. The theologian, therefore, must have some clear notion of the nature and limits of the witness which the moral nature affords.

Assuming, then, the results of ethical philosophy, I subjoin a few observations immediately connected with our subject. We can have no higher motive or impulse to action than is given to us. We may cherish motives, or employ means

by which they may be stimulated, and to some extent we may diminish their power; but we cannot create them, or so much as form a conception of one till it arises in our experience, any more than one born blind can form a true idea of colour. He who has never loved God cannot know love to God, or judge of its ethical value. This consideration has an important bearing on the doctrine of grace.

Revelation might fulfil one of three offices in relation to ethics :

1. A number of rules might be authoritatively laid down to guide men in their conduct before the knowledge of higher motives was awakened in their minds. If the authority of these rules were sufficiently established, they would be binding as a mere outward law, written on tables of stone,' until the inward principles of which the rules were an expression arose in the mind. But thenceforward conscience would be the supreme judge of the value of the rules; for no outward authority can rest its claims on the same direct evidence as the verdicts of conscience. Thus we rise above the external law, and pass from a legal into a spiritual religion. A simple illustration may make this clearer. It is recorded. that Christ said, 'Give to every one that asketh thee,'1 and Sell that ye have, and give alms.'2 If we suppose it to be demonstrated that indiscriminate alms-giving does harm, and not good, we should break these commandments in spirit by keeping them in the letter. Christianity is, I believe, a religion of the spirit, and Christ's commandments are frequently bold illustrations of the principles which should guide our conduct. For instance, he did not intend his disciples literally to cut off an offending hand and pluck out an offending eye, but to incur loss even of what is very precious rather than yield to a sinful impulse. So it is no explaining away of his meaning if we enlarge the above precepts into a commandment to follow the promptings of

love in accordance with known conditions; not to be selfish, but kind and sympathetic, and ready to deny ourselves and give, when we have reason to believe that our giving will result in good. Thus when the principle of love is established in our hearts, we become, as I think Christ intended us to become, independent of the precept. We have passed from the state of servants to that of sons, and become emancipated even from a law which is 'holy and just and good,' not by release from its obligations, but by finding its spirit within our own souls. But supposing that the inward perception were found to be opposed to the outward authority, that the former prohibited in the clearest and most positive tones what the latter enjoined, which ought we then to obey? I unhesitatingly reply, the former. The outward evidence of the revelation is now opposed to the testimony of conscience, and this testimony may so preponderate as to make a vast array of scholarly arguments kick the beam in our judicial balance. This is what all men feel whenever their own conscience is brought into collision with any other authority that may compete with it. The most cherished reverence, the most imposing sanctions of learning and power sink before the plain decision of conscience. There may be a severe struggle; but when once conscience has spoken in firm and unalterable tones, it becomes for each man the supreme authority. This is not only conceded, but enforced, by Cardinal Newman in his splendid description of conscience.1 It is never in their own case, but only in the case of others, that men dispute this truth. If, then, our conscience resolutely and clearly pronounces against any precept of a supposed revelation, we must either disown the revelation, or, perhaps more wisely, alter our theory of it, and learn to acknowledge its value, without demanding its infallibility.

1 A Letter addressed to his Grace the Duke of Norfolk on the occasion of Mr. Gladstone's recent Expostulation, 1875, PP. 55 sqq.