Of course there are many subjects in regard to which we are altogether incompetent to form an independent judgment; and in these cases we should thankfully accept the teaching of others. It would be extremely absurd for most of us to question the validity of received astronomical measurements, for we do not possess such a knowledge of mathematics as their legitimate criticism would require. But in regard to theology, the case is somewhat different. "Theology," says Locke, "is a study which is every man's duty." We Protestants believe in the possibility of direct communion between the individual and his God. We believe that the teaching of the Spirit is not confined to the schools, but may be enjoyed even by an unlettered peasant. The right of private judgment, that glorious privilege won for us by the Reformation, though often abused, is nevertheless the inalienable prerogative of every human being. Still, even in theology, there is much need for humility. The fact that all men have more or less opportunity of studying it, does not make it an easy science. For instance, to a large number of us the Bible itself, in its original languages, would be a useless book. So far we are manifestly obliged to submit ourselves to the teaching of others. Again, anything

like a comprehensive and consistent interpretation of the Bible demands great learning and ability. And far greater learning and ability still are required for the intelligent and sympathetic study of other religions, without which we cannot understand the full value of our own. It is well, therefore, that we should all find some spiritual teacher to whom we can look up with reverence, as more likely to arrive at the truth than ourselves, and whose opinions will be regarded by us, though not as law, yet with thoughtful respect. We have to beware, on the one hand, of a flippant contempt for authority, and on the other, of a slavish cringing to authority,—

"Not clinging to some ancient saw,

Not mastered by some modern term,
Not swift, nor slow, to change, but firm;"

firm in our allegiance to the truth; so firm that when we really find an opinion to be erroneous, we shall venture to discard it, no matter whose opinion it may have been.

Preaching, I conceive, has two objects-the one emotional, the other intellectual. The former can only be attained by a direct transfer of feeling from the preacher to the hearer. Unless the audience be made to experience the same sort of

feelings as the speaker, unless there be this contagion of enthusiasm, the emotional object has not been gained, and so far the sermon is a failure. But it is different with the intellectual result. Though the emotional object cannot be gained without the transfer of feelings, the intellectual may be gained without the transfer of opinions. The hearer may not adopt the preacher's views; he may come to the conclusion that they are altogether wrong; and yet the discourse may have been extremely useful to him. From the emotional point of view, that sermon is most valuable which brings the feelings of the hearers most into accord with those of the preacher. But from the intellectual standpoint, the most useful sermon is not that which gives the hearers the greatest number of ready-made opinions, but that which affords them the strongest stimulus to thought. Preachers are not exempted from the fallibility common to men. It cannot, therefore, be necessary, nor even desirable, that their hearers should always agree with them. "The clergyman said so; therefore it must be true," "I have not been accustomed to think so; therefore it must be false,"-are both erroneous modes of criticism. The illustrious writer just taken from us, affords a striking example of the fact that the highest

usefulness is consistent with a very meagre transfer of opinions. Those who have derived the greatest profit from the writings of Thomas Carlyle are probably those who differ from him most frequently and most seriously. For example all of us, I suppose, disagreed entirely with his theory of hero-worship; the more eloquently he expounded it, the more clearly we saw that he was wrong; and yet all of us are wiser and better for that exposition. It has helped us to more satisfactory views of our own.

There are three things which may keep us from seeking for truth-conceit, laziness and fear. First, there is conceit. Some persons look upon their little stock of beliefs as the sum of human knowledge. Having been providentially preserved from the possibility of error, it is needless for them to test the accuracy of their opinions; and they enjoy a pleasing conviction, as George Eliot says, that if there are any facts which have escaped their observation, they must be facts not worth observing. A search for truth would be of course superfluous on the part of persons so highly endowed. You all know many people of this kind,-people who make a pre-eminent profession of wisdom, but who are pre-eminently fools.

Then there is laziness. You remember the

inimitable description of Cervantes, in which the knight of La Mancha is represented as constructing for himself a helmet. When it was finished the gallant knight smote it with his sword to try its strength. The blow broke it in halves, and so he was obliged to make another. But this time he did not test it; he persuaded himself it was strong enough to render any trial unnecessary. This is an exact illustration of a state of mind that often goes by the name of faith. There are persons who once in their lives tried to think but when many of their old and long-cherished beliefs began to give way under the process, they desisted, and argued with themselves that thought was unnecessary, or even sinful. You will generally find that if a man is too idle to seek for religious truth, he justifies his laziness by maintaining that such a search is tantamount to scepticism: There is a good deal of indolence in the world, as well as a good deal of stupidity, which is dignified with the name of faith.

Lastly, fear keeps many from seeking truth. Some persons seem to imagine that God will judge them according to the state of their opinions, and not according to the state of their hearts. They imagine that if, in seeking after truth, they were to form an erroneous judgment, they would