in his cause than when he entered the room. After confessing how much he had been both pained and gratified by what had been argued, he resorted to the old armoury of replies, and urged that all the speakers had proceeded upon the assumption that the evil deeds of the patriarchs were approved by God, whereas the truth was, that their vices were all condemned, and their virtues only approved.

"Be kind enough to read that," said the Chairman, pointing at the same time to a passage in the book of Kings.

Lester complied, reading, “David did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, and turned not aside from anything that He commanded him, save only in the matter of Uriah the Hittite."

Yes," he continued, "there are many such passages, and I do not wish to disguise the fact, that, when considering the conduct of David, they astonish me, but how shall I set up my poor judgment against that of millions of good men, who, knowing that we cannot understand all things, have been content to accept such difficulties as a test of our faithfulness to God? That there are things in the Bible hard to be believed, I confess, and far more of them than you can conceive, but I do not find that Nature, and what, I suppose, you call natural religion, is easier to be understood. Why should you expect God's word to be free from difficulties when His works are not so? Why should you hope to be able all at once to master the former, when you cannot do anything of that kind with the latter?

The Rector paused, as if for a reply, and Stokes answered, "Because, Sir, it's said to be a revelation, and we ought to find a revelation clear to be understood by all. It aint a revelation if it don't explain things. And if it's all full of difficulties, and hard sayins and picturs of Divine injustice, which we can't get over, then it seems to be no use at all, for it leaves us just in the same fix they are in who have been called heathen. Any man can make out an account of things which won't stand a siftin'; and I'm sure that God wouldn't go about to vex poor creaters by giving 'em an account of things no better than a man could have done."

"I shall not discuss these points," said Lester," because, under present circumstances, it would be as useless as it would be injudicious. There is a great deal of presumption in your speeches, when you say God would not do this, and would do the other; because, in truth, it is hardly for you to say what He would do. And yet I must do you the justice of acknowledging that, as it appears to me, it is not in a wicked spirit you have spoken. From others, who should have known better, you have caught the spirit of arrogance, which is betrayed in all such speeches, for many of my own brethren are too apt in speaking positively upon these points, as if they knew all that the Divine Being is Willing or Doing. And I must do you the justice of saying, that, although disapproving of much that has been said, I am impressed with the idea that you are not real unbelievers. My impression is, that you desire to maintain the honour of God as in your minds it is conceived, against what you call the misrepresentations of the Scriptures."

This observation had scarcely escaped his lips, before many hearty cries of "Hear, hear!" were most vociferously shouted from various parts of the

room.

That," said the Chairman, "is exactly what we mean. We believe that the God of a good man's heart and the God of the Old Testament are not one, but two opposites, which cannot become one."

"Then," contiuued Lester, "although sorrowing over you as over men

who are intellectually sick, I am bound to call you my brethren in the belief that the Divine Ruler, beside being no respecter of persons, cannot either do or sanction a wicked deed. Still, while going thus far with you, and allowing your intentions to be, in every sense, honourable, I cannot read the Old Testament through your eyes. I lament your self-assertion, and yet, I cannot say that you are either wicked, or desirous of turning men away from God. Probably, if you knew more of the poverty of our knowledge, and were less certain of knowing all about what God must do, or abstain from doing, you would be far more modest when criticising the curious narratives contained in the Bible. And if I do not now attempt any formal answer to your objections, you must not suppose such answer to be impossible. The fact is, that your course of proceeding has taken me by surprise. I have been taught to look upon all Freethinkers as men who repudiate the Scriptures, because they desire freedom to gratify their evil passions; or who do so because of desiring to ignore the moral government of God; this, in your case, is so evidently untrue, that I should rather say you reject the Bible because of believing it to contain narratives which dishonour the Creator. If I understand rightly, you mean to say that God is good, just, pure, and equal in His dealings; and I presume that, in some way not yet explained, this belief of yours is drawn from the facts and phenomena of Nature. Give me time to look into the matter from your point of view, and then, probably, I shall meet you again. Of course, too, I shall meet you as my fellow-men, who are fully justified in discussing these subjects. I shall not try to evade the force of the difficulties you have suggested, neither shall I use harsh expressions by way of hiding my ignorance. At least I promise honestly to tell you the thoughts of my heart, and till then, I hope you will conclude that this discussion is but adjourned."

These words of Lester were received with great warmth and good humour, and when the meeting broke up, there was a manifest anxiety to learn at what time he would meet them again.

MORAL PERFECTION.

MORAL perfection, or what is called perfect sinlessness, seems by common consent to be classed among the unattainable conditions of our being; but, probably, like many other popular opinions, this, when fairly examined, will turn out to be utterly unworthy of approval. We are far too prone to believe in human weakness and wickedness as unavoidable in our earthly life, and this is to be partly accounted for by the desire we have to furnish some plausible excuse for those actions of our lives which will not bear close investigation. It is flattering to our pride, to be able to ascribe our virtues to our high-wrought resolution, and our vices to some inherent defect in our original constitution, for which, of course, we are in no way responsible, and hence the readiness with which the statement is endorsed, that real perfection, that a truly sinless life, is not within the reach of any among the children of men. But should this be a delusive theory, the sooner that fact is recognised the better; for as no man can do his best to win the crown who starts with the conviction that victory is impossible, so, also, no man will be able to outstrip his competitors in the sphere of moral nobleness, who does not feel that a positive perfection is to be attained.

Are

Moral perfection, however, is, in one sense, necessarily relative; like all else that is human, it stands related to its age and circumstances. human greatness, human heroism, and human genius, abstractly considered, absolutely perfect, or not, rather, perfect only in relation to the knowledge and habits of their age, country, and environments ? There were men in ancient Greece and Rome, of whom the world now speaks in rapturous terms, as great men, but who, were they living in modern times, would pass unheeded in the crowd. Solon and Pericles, with a whole army of others it would be easy to name, were great men, and, probably, even with nobler specimens, the world will never cease to esteem them as such; still, at the same time, it is to be conceded that in modern days, both Solon and Pericles have been surpassed by men of whom the world knows but little, and cares not to know more. They did not realise their own ideal, did not show forth in their lives the whole of those virtues which themselves felt to be sound and noble, but that of which they fell short has been wrought out by thousands who did what they only dreamed, and yet have passed unsung from the memory of modern Europe.

In the sphere of physical philosophy, we have, in modern times, men whose method and knowledge vastly surpass those of Archimedes and Aristotle, and, indeed, were they to attempt to justify the notions of those celebrated Greeks, their teaching would be received with shouts of derisive laughter. Archimedes and Aristotle, believed and taught many things which are now known to be utterly at variance with truth, and yet, who is there to venture upon denouncing them as fools, or even to deny their claim to be considered great men? Our knowledge is cumulative; that which with so little trouble the schoolboy is taught to-day, is the outcome of vast toil, thought, and observation, performed by men of transcendant abilities. They marched upon the unknown and made it known, and labouring with the spirit of the greatest, they could not fail in becoming the world's benefactors. But although they had not comprehended the whole, we are still justified in calling them perfect as philosophers. Within their proper sphere they employed all the means at their disposal, and we are utterly unable to point out wherein they violated any, to them, known law of their science. But although masters of their position, they felt how poor was the amount of knowledge in their possession, and sighed for more. Can we not believe that it frequently occurred to them, to mark out an outline of what the philosopher would eventually know and be able to accomplish-that frequently, standing upon their bank of time, they looked away into the future, and imagined a variety of things which the man of science would accomplish, and new fields of knowledge which the thoughtful would one day master? But in their wildest dreams they could not have conceived of telegraphic communications by means of electricity, of travelling by the assistance of boiling water, or of lighting our roads and cities with smoke. What man amongst them could have dreamt that philosophers would arise who would discover planets before they had been seen by the human eye, who would take landscapes from the surface of the moon, and employ the sun to take portraits with the rapidity of lightning? Could they of the East, who devoted themselves to the study of physical philosophy, but look up from their graves to have unfolded to them all the knowledge and power of Faraday, Carpenter, or Owen, and without being informed of the manner in which it was connected with the work themselves had performed, there is no doubt that they would fall down to worship them as gods, for that such a stretch of knowledge, that such an

extension of power, would ever become possible to poor human creatures, bad never entered into their wildest dreams, and, consequently, not only has their own perfection been surpassed, but that ideal also of which it is so commonly imagined that it must transcend the possibility of realisation.

Taking a single field of science as the basis of comparison, it is fair to name Hippocrates or Celsus, and Billing or Williams together. The former were of the earliest who, among the Greeks and Romans, treated the practice of medicine as an art which could be taught in schools, but when we compare their practice, and estimate their successes by the standards of modern Therapeutics, we are astonished at the gulf lying between them. The merest tyro in medical science is far better informed than they were, and six months study in a London hospital under its professors would qualify any intelligent man for doing far more in the way of healing diseases than was accomplished by the world-renowned Hippocrates or Galen. Still, they were perfect, and the tyro is not. They practised in the highest style of perfection all that was known in their age, and brought an amount of thought to bear upon their professional duties which, for its fullness and richness, must infinitely surpass all that the mere smatterer is capable of conceiving.

The same conclusion must be arrived at in relation to moral perfection. Our moral knowledge is cumulative the same as our scientific. We, to-day, are acquainted with moral duties which were totally unconceived in the classical and early Christian ages. Instance the two questions, of Slavery, and the Condition of Woman. No man whose mind is open to reasonable convictions, and who has studied the subject, will pretend that the slavery system was generally repudiated by Jesus, by Paul, or by the Early Church. In modern times men seize upon the injunction that we "shall do unto others as "we would that others should do unto ourselves," which they argue is ample as a charge against slavery. But it is not well to forget that neither by the speaker nor the hearers were those words intended or understood in that sense. It is an easy matter to import a new meaning into old sentences, but we deceive ourselves when in this manner we try to reconstruct the history of the past. And as far as the condition of woman is concerned, it is but a solemn mockery when we are told that the early Christians laid the foundation of her progress upward, from a state of serfdom to that of equality. For her elevation she is more indebted to thoughts and modes of life which had their origin in the forests of Germany, than to anything said or done within the confines of Palestine. All through the New Testament her position is subordinate. She is still only woman, and is asked, "What have I to do with "thee?" She is taught that her greatest glory lies in her obedience, she must hardly be seen, never heard, but always ready to work, and, in fact, her position is merely that of a superior servant, without wages.

But, is every man who takes a more correct view of slavery and the condition of woman to be spoken of as superior to Jesus and Paul? Must we say that they both were radically imperfect, and that he is nearer to moral perfection than they were? If the common theory be correct, then this is precisely what we shall have to say; but when put into a plain form, its absurdity is too palpable to deceive any one. The truth is that they were perfect, because, so far as their perceptions taught them, they were obedient to the law of duty. They were perfect in that they departed not from the course which their consciences prescribed, and if we wait for many ages, or journey in search through all the spheres, it will be impossible to meet with any higher degree of moral perfection,

P. W. P.

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CHARACTERISTICS OF THE REFORMATION.-XXXVIII. ESTIMATE OF A KEMPIS' TEACHING.

66

VAUGHAN, in his "Hours with the Mystics," states the sources of mysticism to be "the reaction against the frigid formality of religious torpor; then "heart weariness, the languishing longing for repose-the charm of mysticism “for the selfish and the weak; and last, the desire so strong in some minds "to pierce the barriers that hide from man the unseen world-the charm of "mysticism for the ardent and the strong." Thus, as he further adds, though only with partial truth, " Mysticism has been incorporated in theism, atheism, pantheism." The possibility of atheistic mysticism we doubt. It is, however, true that it has appeared in the loftiest speculations and the grossest idolatry, been associated with the wildest license and the most pitiless asceticism, driven men into action, dissolved them into ecstacy, or "frozen them into torpor." The mysticism of à Kempis belonged to the first of the above-mentioned classes. It arose from a longing for repose from the fanaticisms and dissensions which in his time had well-nigh destroyed Christianity and religion too. It was a protest against the superstition and scepticism of the age, in behalf of what he believed to be the Christian idea. It taught that by faith on the part of man, love would arise between the human soul and the Deity, and man would thus be raised to unity with God. To attain this end, however, entire "abnegation of self" was necessary. And of all this it found the highest type in Christ. The aim of man, therefore, was to imitate Christ, to despoil himself of all that is his own and belonging to human nature," to follow Jesus naked as he was naked, to "die to himself, and live for ever to God." To do this the sternest asceticism was the mode prescribed by Thomas. Having done this, the Divine Love would impart itself to man, and become the mediatior between God and him. Thus, "Love brings together the holy God who dwells in Heaven and the sinful creature upon earth," and humanity is lost in union with Divinity. It was, in fact, a kind of Christian pantheism, God and man originally one, divorced by Sin, reunited by Love. Metaphysically false, it has nevertheless a beautiful moral truth in it. Change the blind faith which à Kempis teaches for obedience to the Will of God, to be exemplified in a life of earnest search after truth and endeavour to do right, and then, indeed, we may say that the human soul will be exalted to companionship with God. At the same time, let it not be supposed that we would endorse the statement that God is estranged from his child, man, for "He loveth whom He chasteneth," and even in our sins we find proof of this, the penalties they ensure being but voices teaching us the way of righteousness and peace.

It had been well said that to call the system propounded by Thomas à Kempis the "Imitation of Christ," is a misnomer. Christ "went about "doing good; " Thomas prescribes a solitary asceticism. Christ mixed with men; Thomas says, avoid them. Christ loved humanity with an all-embracing love; Thomas finds nothing loveable in it. The entire system of Thomas is, in fact, essentially monastic, anti-social, and selfish in its tendency. Here, at least, some may think is found a point of departure between him and modern orthodoxy. But if we think a moment we see that this is not so. What was the aim of the monk, and what is the aim of the religion of our churches and chapels? The aim of the monk was to save his own soul; he cared nought for mankind at large. The aim of the modern "Evangelical" is the sameto save his own small soul; and, in accomplishing this, he overlooks all that