Studies in Theology

by B. B. Warfield

Table of Contents

1. APOLOGETICS

2. CHRISTIAN SUPERNATURALISM

3. THE IDEA OF SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY

4. THE TASK AND METHOD OF SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY

5. GOD

6. PREDESTINATION IN THE REFORMED CONFESSIONS

7. ON THE ANTIQUITY AND UNITY OF THE HUMAN RACE

8. ATONEMENT

9. MODERN THEORIES OF THE ATONEMENT

10. IMPUTATION

11. ON FAITH IN ITS PSYCHOLOGICAL ASPECTS

12. THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE MODE OF BAPTISM

13. THE POLEMICS OF INFANT BAPTISM

14. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE DOCTRINE OF INFANT SALVATION

15. ANNIHILATIONISM

16. THE THEOLOGY OF THE REFORMATION

17. THE NINETY-FIVE THESES IN THEIR THEOLOGICAL SIGNIFICANCE

18. EDWARDS AND THE NEW ENGLAND THEOLOGY

19. CHARLES DARWIN'S RELIGIOUS LIFE

20. THE LATEST PHASE OF HISTORICAL RATIONALISM

21. MYSTICISM AND CHRISTIANITY

LIST OF OTHER STUDIES IN THEOLOGY

Apologetics

by Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

[Reprinted from "The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge,"

edited by Samuel Macauley Jackson, D.D., LL.D., i. pp. 232-238 (copyright by Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York, 1908).]

I. SIGNIFICANCE OF THE TERM

Since Planck (1794) and Schleiermacher (1811), "apologetics" has been the accepted name of one of the theological disciplines or departments of theological science. The term is derived from the Greek apologeisthai, which embodies as its central notion the idea of "defense." In its present application, however, it has somewhat shifted its meaning, and we speak accordingly of apologetics and apologies in contrast with each other. The relation between these two is not that of theory and practice (so e.g. Düsterdieck), nor yet that of genus and species (so e.g. Kübel). That is to say, apologetics is not a formal science in which the principles exemplified in apologies are investigated, as the principles of sermonizing are investigated in homiletics. Nor is it merely the sum of all existing or all possible apologies, or their quintessence, or their scientific exhibition, as dogmatics is the scientific statement of dogmas. Apologies are defenses of Christianity, in its entirety, in its essence, or in some one or other of its elements or presuppositions, as against either all assailants, actual or conceivable, or some particular form or instance of attack; though, of course, as good defenses they may rise above mere defenses and become vindications. Apologetics undertakes not the defense, not even the vindication, but the establishment, not, strictly speaking, of Christianity, but rather of that knowledge of God which Christianity professes to embody and seeks to make efficient in the world, and which it is the business of theology scientifically to explicate. It may, of course, enter into defense and vindication when in the prosecution of its task it meets with opposing points of view and requires to establish its own standpoint or conclusions. Apologies may, therefore, be embraced in apologetics, and form ancillary portions of its structure, as they may also do in the case of every other theological discipline. It is, moreover, inevitable that this or that element or aspect of apologetics will be more or less emphasized and cultivated, as the need of it is from time to time more or less felt. But apologetics does not derive its contents or take its form or borrow its value from the prevailing opposition; but preserves through all varying circumstances its essential character as a positive and constructive science which has to do with opposition only - like any other constructive science - as the refutation of opposing views becomes from time to time incident to construction. So little is defense or vindication of the essence of apologetics that there would be the same reason for its existence and the same necessity for its work, were there no opposition in the world to be encountered and no contradiction to be overcome. It finds its deepest ground, in other words, not in the accidents which accompany the efforts of true religion to plant, sustain, and propagate itself in this world; not even in that most pervasive and most portentous of all these accidents, the accident of sin; but in the fundamental needs of the human spirit. If it is incumbent on the believer to be able to give a reason for the faith that is in him, it is impossible for him to be a believer without a reason for the faith that is in him; and it is the task of apologetics to bring this reason clearly out in his consciousness, and make its validity plain. It is, in other words, the function of apologetics to investigate, explicate, and establish the grounds on which a theology - a science, or systematized knowledge of God - is possible; and on the basis of which every science which has God for its object must rest, if it be a true science with claims to a place within the circle of the sciences. It necessarily takes its place, therefore, at the head of the departments of theological science and finds its task in the establishment of the validity of that knowledge of God which forms the subject-matter of these departments; that we may then proceed through the succeeding departments of exegetical, historical, systematic, and practical theology, to explicate, appreciate, systematize, and propagate it in the world.

II. PLACE AMONG THE THEOLOGICAL DISCIPLINES

It must be admitted that considerable confusion has reigned with respect to the conception and function of apologetics, and its place among the theological disciplines. Nearly every writer has a definition of his own, and describes the task of the discipline in a fashion more or less peculiar to himself; and there is scarcely a corner in the theological encyclopedia into which it has not been thrust. Planck gave it a place among the exegetical disciplines; others contend that its essence is historical; most wish to assign it either to systematic or practical theology. Nösselt denies it all right of existence; Palmer confesses inability to classify it; Räbiger casts it formally out of the encyclopedia, but reintroduces it under the different name of "theory of religion." Tholuck proposed that it should be apportioned through the several departments; and Cave actually distributes its material through three separate departments. Much of this confusion is due to a persistent confusion of apologetics with apologies. If apologetics is the theory of apology, and its function is to teach men how to defend Christianity, its place is, of course, alongside of homiletics, catechetics, and poimenics in practical theology. If it is simply, by way of eminence, the apology of Christianity, the systematically organized vindication of Christianity in all its elements and details, against all opposition - or in its essential core against the only destructive opposition - it of course presupposes the complete development of Christianity through the exegetical, historical, and systematic disciplines, and must take its place either as the culminating department of systematic theology, or as the intellectualistic side of practical theology, or as an independent discipline between the two. In this case it can be only artificially separated from polemic theology and other similar disciplines - if the analysis is pushed so far as to create these, as is done by F. Duilhé de Saint-Projet who distinguishes between apologetical, controversial, and polemic theology, directed respectively against unbelievers, heretics, and fellow believers, and by A. Kuyper who distinguishes between polemics, elenctics, and apologetics, opposing respectively heterodoxy, paganism, and false philosophy. It will not be strange, then, if, though separated from these kindred disciplines it, or some of it, should be again united with them, or some of them, to form a larger whole to which is given the same encyclopedic position. This is done for example by Kuyper who joins polemics, elenctics, and apologetics together to form his "antithetic dogmatological" group of disciplines; and by F. L. Patton who, after having distributed the material of apologetics into the two separate disciplines of rational or philosophical theology, to which as a thetic discipline a place is given at the outset of the system, and apologetics, joins the latter with polemics to constitute the antithetical disciplines, while systematic theology succeeds both as part of the synthetic disciplines.

III. SOURCE OF DIVERGENT VIEWS

Much of the diversity in question is due also, however, to varying views of the thing which apologetics undertakes to establish; whether it be, for example, the truth of the Christian religion, or the validity of that knowledge of God which theology presents in systematized form. And more of it still is due to profoundly differing conceptions of the nature and subject-matter of that "theology," a department of which apologetics is. If we think of apologetics as undertaking the defense or the vindication or even the justification of the "Christian religion," that is one thing; if we think of it as undertaking the establishment of the validity of that knowledge of God, which "theology" systematizes, that may be a very different thing. And even if agreement exists upon the latter conception, there remain the deeply cutting divergences which beset the definition of "theology" itself. Shall it be defined as the "science of faith"? or as the "science of religion"? or as the "science of the Christian religion"? or as the "science of God"? In other words, shall it be regarded as a branch of psychology, or as a branch of history, or as a branch of science? Manifestly those who differ thus widely as to what theology is, cannot be expected to agree as to the nature and function of any one of its disciplines. If "theology" is the science of faith or of religion, its subject-matter is the subjective experiences of the human heart; and the function of apologetics is to inquire whether these subjective experiences have any objective validity. Of course, therefore, it follows upon the systematic elucidation of these subjective experiences and constitutes the culminating discipline of "theology." Similarly, if "theology" is the science of the Christian religion, it investigates the purely historical question of what those who are called Christians believe; and of course the function of apologetics is to follow this investigation with an inquiry whether Christians are justified in believing these things. But if theology is the science of God, it deals not with a mass of subjective experiences, nor with a section of the history of thought, but with a body of objective facts; and it is absurd to say that these facts must be assumed and developed unto their utmost implications before we stop to ask whether they are facts. So soon as it is agreed that theology is a scientific discipline and has as its subject-matter the knowledge of God, we must recognize that it must begin by establishing the reality as objective facts of the data upon which it is based. One may indeed call the department of theology to which this task is committed by any name which appears to him appropriate: it may be called "general theology," or "fundamental theology," or "principial theology," or "philosophical theology," or "rational theology," or "natural theology," or any other of the innumerable names which have been used to describe it. Apologetics is the name which most naturally suggests itself, and it is the name which, with more or less accuracy of view as to the nature and compass of the discipline, has been consecrated to this purpose by a large number of writers from Schleiermacher down (e.g. Pelt, Twesten, Baumstark, Swetz, Ottiger, Knoll, Maissoneuve). It powerfully commends itself as plainly indicating the nature of the discipline, while equally applicable to it whatever may be the scope of the theology which it undertakes to plant on a secure basis. Whether this theology recognizes no other knowledge of God than that given in the constitution and course of nature, or derives its data from the full revelation of God as documented in the Christian Scriptures, apologetics offers itself with equal readiness to designate the discipline by which the validity of the knowledge of God set forth is established. It need imply no more than natural theology requires for its basis; when the theology which it serves is, however, the complete theology of the Christian revelation, it guards its unity and protects from the fatally dualistic conception which sets natural and revealed theology over against each other as separable entities, each with its own separate presuppositions requiring establishment - by which apologetics would be split into two quite diverse disciplines, given very different places in the theological encyclopedia.

IV. THE TRUE TASK OF APOLOGETICS

It will already have appeared how far apologetics may be defined, in accordance with a very prevalent custom (e.g. Sack, Lechler, Ebrard, Kübel, Lemme) as "the science which establishes the truth of Christianity as the absolute religion." Apologetics certainly does establish the truth of Christianity as the absolute religion. But the question of importance here is how it does this. It certainly is not the business of apologetics to take up each tenet of Christianity in turn and seek to establish its truth by a direct appeal to reason. Any attempt to do this, no matter on what philosophical basis the work of demonstration be begun or by what methods it be pursued, would transfer us at once into the atmosphere and betray us into the devious devices of the old vulgar rationalism, the primary fault of which was that it asked for a direct rational demonstration of the truth of each Christian teaching in turn. The business of apologetics is to establish the truth of Christianity as the absolute religion directly only as a whole, and in its details only indirectly. That is to say, we are not to begin by developing Christianity into all its details, and only after this task has been performed, tardily ask whether there is any truth in all this. We are to begin by establishing the truth of Christianity as a whole, and only then proceed to explicate it into its details, each of which, if soundly explicated, has its truth guaranteed by its place as a detail in an entity already established in its entirety. Thus we are delivered from what is perhaps the most distracting question which has vexed the whole history of the discipline. In establishing the truth of Christianity, it has been perennially asked, are we to deal with all its details (e.g. H. B. Smith), or merely with the essence of Christianity (e.g. Kübel). The true answer is, neither. Apologetics does not presuppose either the development of Christianity into its details, or the extraction from it of its essence. The details of Christianity are all contained in Christianity: the minimum of Christianity is just Christianity itself. What apologetics undertakes to establish is just this Christianity itself - including all its "details" and involving its "essence" - in its unexplicated and uncompressed entirety, as the absolute religion. It has for its object the laying of the foundations on which the temple of theology is built, and by which the whole structure of theology is determined. It is the department of theology which establishes the constitutive and regulative principles of theology as a science; and in establishing these it establishes all the details which are derived from them by the succeeding departments, in their sound explication and systematization. Thus it establishes the whole, though it establishes the whole in the mass, so to speak, and not in its details, but yet in its entirety and not in some single element deemed by us its core, its essence, or its minimum expression.

V. DIVISION OF APOLOGETICS

The subject-matter of apologetics being determined, its distribution into its parts becomes very much a matter of course. Having defined apologetics as the proof of the truth of the Christian religion, many writers naturally confine it to what is commonly known somewhat loosely as the "evidences of Christianity." Others, defining it as "fundamental theology," equally naturally confine it to the primary principles of religion in general. Others more justly combine the two conceptions and thus obtain at least two main divisions. Thus Hermann Schultz makes it prove "the right of the religious conception of the world, as over against the tendencies to the denial of religion, and the right of Christianity as the absolutely perfect manifestation of religion, as over against the opponents of its permanent significance." He then divides it into two great sections with a third interposed between them: the first, "the apology of the religious conception of the world"; the last, "the apology of Christianity"; while between the two stands "the philosophy of religion, religion in its historical manifestation." Somewhat less satisfactorily, because with a less firm hold upon the idea of the discipline, Henry B. Smith, viewing apologetics as "historico-philosophical dogmatics," charged with the defense of "the whole contents and substance of the Christian faith," divided the material to much the same effect into what he calls fundamental, historical, and philosophical apologetics. The first of these undertakes to demonstrate the being and nature of God; the second, the divine origin and authority of Christianity; and the third, somewhat lamely as a conclusion to so high an argument, the superiority of Christianity to all other systems. Quite similarly Francis R. Beattie divided into (1) fundamental or philosophical apologetics, which deals with the problem of God and religion; (2) Christian or historical apologetics, which deals with the problem of revelation and the Scriptures; and (3) applied or practical apologetics, which deals with the practical efficiency of Christianity in the world. The fundamental truth of these schematizations lies in the perception that the subject-matter of apologetics embraces the two great facts of God and Christianity. There is some failure in unity of conception, however, arising apparently from a deficient grasp of the peculiarity of apologetics as a department of theological science, and a consequent inability to permit it as such to determine its own contents and the natural order of its constituent parts.

VI. THE CONCEPTION OF THEOLOGY AS A SCIENCE

If theology be a science at all, there is involved in that fact, as in the case of all other sciences, at least these three things: the reality of its subject-matter, the capacity of the human mind to receive into itself and rationally to reflect this subjectmatter, the existence of media of communication between the subject-matter and the percipient and understanding mind. There could be no psychology were there not a mind to be investigated, a mind to investigate, and a self-consciousness by means of which the mind as an object can be brought under the inspection of the mind as subject. There could be no astronomy were there no heavenly bodies to be investigated, no mind capable of comprehending the laws of their existence and movements, or no means of observing their structure and motion. Similarly there can be no theology, conceived according to its very name as the science of God, unless there is a God to form its subject-matter, a capacity in the human mind to apprehend and so far to comprehend God, and some media by which God is made known to man. That a theology, as the science of God, may exist, therefore, it must begin by establishing the existence of God, the capacity of the human mind to know Him, and the accessibility of knowledge concerning Him. In other words, the very idea of theology as the science of God gives these three great topics which must be dealt with in its fundamental department, by which the foundations for the whole structure are laid - God, religion, revelation. With these three facts established, a theology as the science of God becomes possible; with them, therefore, an apologetic might be complete. But that, only provided that in these three topics all the underlying presuppositions of the science of God actually built up in our theology are established; for example, provided that all the accessible sources and means of knowing God are exhausted. No science can arbitrarily limit the data lying within its sphere to which it will attend. On pain of ceasing to be the science it professes to be, it must exhaust the means of information open to it, and reduce to a unitary system the entire body of knowledge in its sphere. No science can represent itself as, astronomy, for example, which arbitrarily confines itself to the information concerning the heavenly bodies obtainable by the unaided eye, or which discards, without sound ground duly adduced, the aid of, say, the spectroscope. In the presence of Christianity in the world making claim to present a revelation of God adapted to the condition and needs of sinners, and documented in Scriptures, theology cannot proceed a step until it has examined this claim; and if the claim be substantiated, this substantiation must form a part of the fundamental department of theology in which are laid the foundations for the systematization of the knowledge of God. In that case, two new topics are added to the subject-matter with which apologetics must constructively deal, Christianity - and the Bible. It thus lies in the very nature of apologetics as the fundamental department of theology, conceived as the science of God, that it should find its task in establishing the existence of a God who is capable of being known by man and who has made Himself known, not only in nature but in revelations of His grace to lost sinners, documented in the Christian Scriptures. When apologetics has placed these great facts in our hands - God, religion, revelation, Christianity, the Bible - and not till then are we prepared to go on and explicate the knowledge of God thus brought to us, trace the history of its workings in the world, systematize it, and propagate it in the world.

VII. THE FIVE SUBDIVISIONS OF APOLOGETICS

The primary subdivisions of apologetics are therefore five, unless for convenience of treatment it is preferred to sink the third into its most closely related fellow. (1) The first, which may perhaps be called philosophical apologetics, undertakes the establishment of the being of God, as a personal spirit, the creator, preserver, and governor of all things. To it belongs the great problem of theism, with the involved discussion of the antitheistic theories. (2) The second, which may perhaps be called psychological apologetics, undertakes the establishment of the religious nature of man and the validity of his religious sense. It involves the discussion alike of the psychology, the philosophy, and the phenomenology of religion, and therefore includes what is loosely called "comparative religion" or the "history of religions." (3) To the third falls the establishment of the reality of the supernatural factor in history, with the involved determination of the actual relations in which God stands to His world, and the method of His government of His rational creatures, and especially His mode of making Himself known to them. It issues in the establishment of the fact of revelation as the condition of all knowledge of God, who as a personal Spirit can be known only so far as He expresses Himself; so that theology differs from all other sciences in that in it the object is not at the disposal of the subject, but vice versa. (4) The fourth, which may be called historical apologetics, undertakes to establish the divine origin of Christianity as the religion of revelation in the special sense of that word. It discusses all the topics which naturally fall under the popular caption of the "evidences of Christianity." (5) The fifth, which may be called bibliological apologetics, undertakes to establish the trustworthiness of the Christian Scriptures as the documentation of the revelation of God for the redemption of sinners. It is engaged especially with such topics as the divine origin of the Scriptures; the methods of the divine operation in their origination; their place in the series of redemptive acts of God, and in the process of revelation; the nature, mode, and effect of inspiration; and the like.

VIII. THE VALUE OF APOLOGETICS

The estimate which is put upon apologetics by scholars naturally varies with the conception which is entertained of its nature and function. In the wake of the subjectivism introduced by Schleiermacher, it has become very common to speak of such an apologetic as has just been outlined with no little scorn. It is an evil inheritance, we are told, from the old supranaturalismus vulgaris, which "took its standpoint not in the Scriptures but above the Scriptures, and imagined it could, with formal conceptions, develop a 'ground for the divine authority of Christianity' (Heubner), and therefore offered proofs for the divine origin of Christianity, the necessity of revelation, and the credibility of the Scriptures" (Lemme). To recognize that we can take our standpoint in the Scriptures only after we have Scriptures, authenticated as such, to take our standpoint in, is, it seems, an outworn prejudice. The subjective experience of faith is conceived to be the ultimate fact; and the only legitimate apologetic, just the self-justification of this faith itself. For faith, it seems, after Kant, can no longer be looked upon as a matter of reasoning and does not rest on rational grounds, but is an affair of the heart, and manifests itself most powerfully when it has no reason out of itself (Brunetiere). If repetition had probative force, it would long ago have been established that faith, religion, theology, lie wholly outside of the realm of reason, proof, and demonstration.

It is, however, from the point of view of rationalism and mysticism that the value of apologetics is most decried. Wherever rationalistic preconceptions have penetrated, there, of course, the validity of the apologetic proofs has been in more or less of their extent questioned. Wherever mystical sentiment has seeped in, there the validity of apologetics has been with more or less emphasis doubted. At the present moment, the rationalistic tendency is most active, perhaps, in the form given it by Albrecht Ritschl. In this form it strikes at the very roots of apologetics, by the distinction it erects between theoretical and religious knowledge. Religious knowledge is not the knowledge of fact, but a perception of utility; and therefore positive religion, while it may be historically conditioned, has no theoretical basis, and is accordingly not the object of rational proof. In significant parallelism with this, the mystical tendency is manifesting itself at the present day most distinctly in a widespread inclination to set aside apologetics in favor of the "witness of the Spirit." The convictions of the Christian man, we are told, are not the product of reason addressed to the intellect, but the immediate creation of the Holy Spirit in the heart. Therefore, it is intimated, we may do very well without these reasons, if indeed they are not positively noxious, because tending to substitute a barren intellectualism for a vital faith. It seems to be forgotten that though faith be a moral act and the gift of God, it is yet formally conviction passing into confidence; and that all forms of convictions must rest on evidence as their ground, and it is not faith but reason which investigates the nature and validity of this ground. "He who believes," says Thomas Aquinas, in words which have become current as an axiom, "would not believe unless he saw that what he believes is worthy of belief." Though faith is the gift of God, it does not in the least follow that the faith which God gives is an irrational faith, that is, a faith without cognizable ground in right reason. We believe in Christ because it is rational to believe in Him, not even though it be irrational. Of course mere reasoning cannot make a Christian; but that is not because faith is not the result of evidence, but because a dead soul cannot respond to evidence. The action of the Holy Spirit in giving faith is not apart from evidence, but along with evidence; and in the first instance consists in preparing the soul for the reception of the evidence.

IX. RELATION OF APOLOGETICS TO CHRISTIAN FAITH

This is not to argue that it is by apologetics that men are made Christians, but that apologetics supplies to Christian men the systematically organized basis on which the faith of Christian men must rest. All that apologetics explicates in the forms of systematic proof is implicit in every act of Christian faith. Whenever a sinner accepts Jesus Christ as his Saviour, there is implicated in that act a living conviction that there is a God, knowable to man, who has made Himself known in a revelation of Himself for redemption in Jesus Christ, as is set down in the Scriptures. It is not necessary for his act of faith that all the grounds of this conviction should be drawn into full consciousness and given the explicit assent of his understanding, though it is necessary for his faith that sufficient ground for his conviction be actively present and working in his spirit. But it is necessary for the vindication of his faith to reason in the form of scientific judgment, that the grounds on which it rests be explicated and established. Theology as a science, though it includes in its culminating discipline, that of practical theology, an exposition of how that knowledge of God with which it deals objectively may best be made the subjective possession of man, is not itself the instrument of propaganda; what it undertakes to do is systematically to set forth this knowledge of God as the object of rational contemplation. And as it has to set it forth as knowledge, it must of course begin by establishing its right to rank as such. Did it not do so, the whole of its work would hang in the air, and theology would present the odd spectacle among the sciences of claiming a place among a series of systems of knowledge for an elaboration of pure assumptions.

X. THE EARLIEST APOLOGETICS

Seeing that it thus supplies an insistent need of the human spirit, the world has, of course, never been without its apologetics. Whenever men have thought at all they have thought about God and the supernatural order; and whenever they have thought of God and the supernatural order, there has been present to their minds a variety of more or less solid reasons for believing in their reality. The enucleation of these reasons into a systematically organized body of proofs waited of course upon advancing culture. But the advent of apologetics did not wait for the advent of Christianity; nor are traces of this department of thought discoverable only in the regions lit up by special revelation. The philosophical systems of antiquity, especially those which derive from Plato, are far from empty of apologetical elements; and when in the later stages of its development, classical philosophy became peculiarly religious, express apologetical material became almost predominant. With the coming of Christianity into the world, however, as the contents of the theology to be stated became richer, so the efforts to substantiate it became more fertile in apologetical elements. We must not confuse the apologies of the early Christian ages with formal apologetics. Like the sermons of the day, they contributed to apologetics without being it. The apologetic material developed by what one may call the more philosophical of the apologists (Aristides, Athenagoras, Tatian, Theophilus, Hermias, Tertullian) was already considerable; it was largely supplemented by the theological labors of their successors. In the first instance Christianity, plunged into a polytheistic environment and called upon to contend with systems of thought grounded in pantheistic or dualistic assumptions, required to establish its theistic standpoint; and as over against the bitterness of the Jews and the mockery of the heathen (e.g. Tacitus, Fronto, Crescens, Lucian), to evince its own divine origin as a gift of grace to sinful man. Along with Tertullian, the great Alexandrians, Clement and Origen, are the richest depositaries of the apologetic thought of the first period. The greatest apologists of the patristic age were, however, Eusebius of Caesarea amd Augustine. The former was the most learned and the latter the most profound of all the defenders of Christianity among the Fathers. And Augustine, in particular, not merely in his "City of God" but in his controversial writings, accumulated a vast mass of apologetical material which is far from having lost its significance even yet.

XI. THE LATER APOLOGETICS

It was not, however, until the scholastic age that apologetics came to its rights as a constructive science. The whole theological activity of the Middle Ages was so far ancillary to apologetics, that its primary effort was the justification of faith to reason. It was not only rich in apologists (Agobard, Abelard, Raymund Martini), but every theologian was in a sense an apologist. Anselm at its beginning, Aquinas at its culmination, are types of the whole series; types in which all its excellencies are summed up. The Renaissance, with its repristination of heathenism, naturally called out a series of new apologists (Savonarola, Marsilius Ficinus, Ludovicus Vives), but the Reformation forced polemics into the foreground and drove apologetics out of sight, although, of course, the great theologians of the Reformation era brought their rich contribution to the accumulating apologetical material. When, in the exhaustion of the seventeenth century, irreligion began to spread among the people and indifferentism ripening into naturalism among the leaders of thought, the stream of apologetical thought was once more started flowing, to swell into a great flood as the prevalent unbelief intensified and spread. With a forerunner in Philippe de Mornay (1581), Hugo Grotius (1627) became the typical apologist of the earlier portion of this period, while its middle portion was illuminated by the genius of Pascal (d. 1662) and the unexampled richness of apologetical labor in its later years culminated in Butler's great "Analogy" (1736) and Paley's plain but powerful argumentation. As the assault against Christianity shifted its basis from the English deism of the early half of the eighteenth century through the German rationalism of its later half, the idealism which dominated the first half of the nineteenth century, and thence to the materialism of its later years, period after period was marked in the history of apology, and the particular elements of apologetics which were especially cultivated changed with the changing thought. But no epoch was marked in the history of apologetics itself, until under the guidance of Schleiermacher's attempt to trace the organism of the departments of theology, K. H. Sack essayed to set forth a scientifically organized "Christian Apologetics" (Hamburg, 1829; ed. 2, 1841). Since then an unbroken series of scientific systems of apologetics has flowed from the press. These differ from one another in almost every conceivable way; in their conception of the nature, task, compass, and encyclopedic place of the science; in their methods of dealing with its material; in their conception of Christianity itself; and of religion and of God and of the nature of the evidence on which belief in one or the other must rest. But they agree in the fundamental point that apologetics is conceived by all alike as a special department of theological science, capable of and demanding separate treatment. In this sense apologetics has come at last, in the last two-thirds of the nineteenth century, to its rights. The significant names in its development are such as, perhaps, among the Germans, Sack, Steudel, Delitzsch, Ebrard, Baumstark, Tölle, Kratz, Kübel, Steude, Frank, Kaftan, Vogel, Schultz, Kähler; to whom may be added such Romanists as Drey, Dieringer, Staudenmeyer, Hettinger, Schanz, and such English-speaking writers as Hetherington, H. B. Smith, Bruce, Rishell, and Beattie.

BIBLIOGRAPHY: Lists of literature will be found in F. R. Beattie's "Apologetics, or the Rational Vindication of Christianity," Richmond, 1903; in A. Cave, "Introduction to Theology," Edinburgh, ed. 2, 1896; in G. R. Crooks and J. F. Hurst, "Theological Encyclopaedia and Methodology," New York, 1884, pp. 411-413; in P. Schaff, "Theological Propædeutic," 2 parts, New York, 1892-1893. Consult F. L. Patton, in Princeton Theological Review, ii. 1904, pp. 110 ff.; Presbyterian and Reformed Review, vii. 1896, pp. 243 ff. (or pp. 49 ff. of this volume). On the history of apologetics and apologetic method: H. G. Tzschirner, "Geschichte der Apologetiek," Leipzig, 1805; G. H. van Senden, "Geschichte der Apologetiek," 2 vols., Stuttgart, 1846; K. Werner, "Geschichte der apologetischen und polemischen Literatur," 5 vols., Schaffhausen, 1861-1867 (Roman Catholic); W. Haan, "Geschichte der Vertheidigung des Christenthums," Frankenberg, 1882 (popular). For early Christian apologies consult "Ante-Nicene Fathers" and "Nicene and PostNicene Fathers"; for discussions of these, F. Watson, "The AnteNicene Apologies: their Character and Value," Cambridge, 1870 (Hulsean essay) ; W. J. Bolton, "The Evidences of Christianity as exhibited in the . . . Apologists down to Augustine," Cambridge, 1853 (Hulsean essay) ; F. R. Wynne, "The Literature of the Second Century," London, 1891 (popular but scholarly) ; A. Seitz, "Die Apologie des Christentums bei den Griechen des IV. und V. Jahrhunderts," Würzburg, 1895. On special phases in the history of apologetics: L. Noack, "Die Freidenker in der Religion, oder die Repräsentanten der religiösen Aufklärung in. England, Frankreich und Deutschland," 3 vols., Bern, 1853-1855; A. S. Farrar, "Critical History of Free Thought," New York, 1863; K. R. Hagenbach, "German Rationalism, in its Rise, Progress, and Decline," Edinburgh, 1865; A. Viguie, "Histoire de l'apologetique dans l'eglise reformee française," Geneva, 1858; H. B. Smith, "Apologetics," New York, 1882 (appendix contains sketches of German apologetic works) ; J. F. Hurst, "History of Rationalism," New York, 1902; A. H. Huizinga, "Some Recent Phases of Christian Apologetics," in Presbyterian and Reformed Review, vii. 1896, pp. 34 ff. Apologetical literature: F. R. Beattie, "Apologetics, or the Rational Vindication of Christianity," Richmond, 1903; W. M. Hetherington, "Apologetics of the Christian Faith," Edinburgh, 1867; J. H. A. Ebrard, "Apologetik," Gütersloh, ed. 2, 1878-1880, English translation, "Apologetics: or the Scientific Vindication of Christianity," 3 vols., Edinburgh, 1886-1887; A. Mair, "Studies in the Christian Evidences," Edinburgh, 1883; G. F. Wright, "Logic of Christian Evidences," Andover, 1880; F. H. R. Frank, "System der christlichen Gewissheit," Erlangen, 1870-1873 (ed. 2, 1884), E.T. (of ed. 2), "System of the Christian Certainty," Edinburgh, 1886; P. Schanz, "Apologie des Christentums," 3 vols., Freiburg, 1887-1888, E.T. "Christian Apology," 3 vols., New York and Cincinnati, ed. 2, 1896 (Roman Catholic); L. F. Stearns, "The Evidence of Christian Experience," New York, 1890 (the best book on the subject); A. B. Bruce, "Apologetics; or, Christianity Defensively Stated," Edinburgh, 1892; H. Wace, "Students' Manual of the Evidences of Christianity," London, 1892; J. Kaftan, "Die Wahrheit der christlichen Religion," Basel, 1888, E.T. 2 vols., Edinburgh, 1894; C. W. Rishell, "Foundations of the Christian Faith," New York, 1899; W. Devivier, "Cours d'apologetique chretienne," Paris, 1889, E. T. "Christian Apologetics," 2 vols., New York, 1903; A. Harnack, "What is Christianity?" London, 1901; J. T. Bergen, "Evidences of Christianity," Holland, Mich., 1902; A. M. Randolph, "Reason, Faith and Authority in Christianity," New York, 1902; the Boyle and Bampton lecture series deal exclusively with subjects in apologetics; see also under "Agnosticism"; "Antitrinitarianism"; and "Atheism."

Christian Supernaturalism

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Opening address delivered before the Faculty and students of Princeton Theological Seminary, September 18, 1896. Reprinted from The Presbyterian and Reformed Review, viii. 1897, pp. 58-74.

Dr. John Bascom has lately told us afresh and certainly, as we shall all agree, most truly, that "the relation of the natural and supernatural" is the "question of questions which underlies our rational life." "The fact of such a relation," he justly adds, "is the most patent and omnipresent in the history of the human mind." We cannot think at all without facing the great problems which arise out of the perennial pressure of this most persistent of intellectual questions. From the first dawn of intelligence each human mind has busied itself instinctively with their adjustment. The history of human thought in every race from its earliest beginnings is chiefly concerned with the varying relations which men - in this or that stage of culture, or under the influence of this or that dominating conception - have conceived to exist between the natural world in which they lived and that supernatural world which they have ever been prone to conceive to lie above and beyond it. The most elaborate systems of philosophy differ in nothing in this respect from the tentative efforts of untutored thinking. For them, too, the problem of the supernatural is the prime theme of their investigation: and the solutions which have commended themselves to them too have been the most varied possible, running through the entire series from the one-sided assertion of the natural as absolute and complete, with the exclusion of all supernaturalism, to the equally one-sided affirmation of the reality of the supernatural alone with the entire exclusion of all that can properly be called natural. Between these two extremes of atheistic naturalism and superstitious supernaturalism nearly every possible adjustment of the relation of the two factors has found some advocates. So that there is some color to Dr. Bascom's plaint that, though the proper appreciation of their relation constitutes "the summation of sound philosophy," "its final conception and statement elude us all."

Some color, but not a thorough justification. For, amid all the variety and confusion of men's ideas on this great subject, there are not lacking certain lines of direction leading to one assured goal, broadly outlined only it may be and seen only dimly through the mist of innumerable errors of detail, within which it is demonstrable that the æonian thinking of the race is always traveling: within which also it is clear that the best and most vital of that high, conscious thinking which we call philosophy finds the limits of its conceptions and the pathway of its advance. We may not fancy that every conceivable conception of the relation of the natural and supernatural has found equal favor in the unsophisticated mind of man, or has won equal support from the criticized elaborations of philosophic contemplation. No one who will permit to pass before his mental vision the long procession of world-conceptions which have dominated the human race in its several stages of development will imagine that humanity at large has ever been tempted to doubt, much less to deny, the reality or the significance to it of either the natural or the supernatural. On any adequate survey of the immanent thought of the world as expressed in its systems of popular belief, atheistic naturalism and exclusive supernaturalism exhibit themselves as alike inhuman. Atheists have existed, who knew and would know nothing beyond what their five senses immediately gave them, and naturalistic atheism has found expression in elaborate systems which have warped the conceptions of large masses of men: and in like manner a debased superstition has fallen like a pall over entire communities and for ages has darkened their minds and cursed their whole life. So there have, from time to time, appeared among men both ascetic solitaries and communistic socialists, though God has set mankind in families. The band of camp-followers on either wing of an army confuses no man's judgment as to the whereabouts of the army itself, but rather points directly to its position. Similarly a general consideration of the great philosophical systems of the world will leave us in no doubt as to the trend of deliberate pondering upon this subject. Somewhere between the two extremes of a consistent naturalism and an exclusive supernaturalism we shall assuredly find the center of gravity of the thinking of the ages - the point on which philosophy rests all the more stably that on both sides wings stretch themselves far beyond all support and hang over the abyss. Precisely where, between the two extremes, this stable center is to be found, it may be more difficult to determine - our instruments of measurement are not always "implements of precision." Assuredly, however, it will not be found where either the purely supernatural or the purely natural is excluded, and in any case it is much to know that it lies somewhere between the two extremes, and that it is as unphilosophical as it is inhuman to deny or doubt either the natural or the supernatural.

It is not to be gainsaid, of course, that from time to time, strong tendencies of thought set in to this direction or to that; and, for a while, it may seem as if the whole world were rushing to one extreme or the other. A special type of philosophizing becomes temporarily dominant and its conceptions run burning over the whole thinking world. At such times men are likely to fancy that the great problem of the ages is settled, and to felicitate themselves upon the facility with which they see through what to men of other times were clouds of great darkness. Such a period visited European thought in the last century, when English Deism set the supernatural so far off from the world that French Atheism thought it an easy thing to dispense with it altogether. "Down with the infamy!" cried Voltaire, and actually thought the world had hearkened to his commandment. The atheistic naturalism of the eighteenth century has long since taken up its abode with the owls and bats; but the world has not yet learned its lesson. An even more powerful current seems to have seized the modern world, and to be hurling it by a very different pathway to practically the same conclusion. It is to be feared that it cannot be denied that we are to-day in the midst of a very strong drift away from frank recognition of the supernatural as a factor in human life. To this also Dr. Bascom may be cited as a witness. "The task which the bolder thinking of our time has undertaken," he tells us, is "to curb the supernatural, to bring it into the full service of reason." "To curb the supernatural" - yes, that is the labor with which the thinkers of our day have burdened themselves. The tap-root of this movement is firmly set in a pantheistic philosophy, to which, of course, there is no such distinction possible as that between the natural and supernatural: to it all things are natural, the necessary product of the blind interaction of the forces inherent in what we call matter, but which the pantheist calls "God" and thinks he has thereby given not only due but even sole recognition to the supernatural. But it has reached out and embraced in its ramified network of branches the whole sphere of human thinking through the magic watchword of "evolution," by means of which it strives to break down and obliterate all the lines of demarcation which separate things that differ, and thus to reduce all that exists to but varying forms taken, through natural processes, by the one life that underlies them all. How absolutely determinant the conception of evolution has become in the thinking of our age, there can be no need to remind ourselves. It may not be amiss, however, to recall the anti-supernaturalistic root and the anti-supernaturalistic effects of the dominance of this mode of conceiving things; and thus to identify in it the cause of the persistent anti-supernaturalism which at present characterizes the world's thought. The recognition of the supernatural is too deeply intrenched in human nature ever to be extirpated; man is not a brute, and he differs from the brutes in nothing more markedly or more ineradicably than in his correlation with an unseen world. But probably there never was an era in which the thinking of the more or less educated classes was more deeply tinged with an anti-supernatural stain than at present. Even when we confess the supernatural with our lips and look for it and find it with our reasons, our instincts as modern men lead us unconsciously to neglect and in all practical ways to disallow and even to scout it.

It would be impossible that what we call specifically Christian thought should be unaffected by such a powerful trend in the thinking of the world. Christian men are men first and Christians afterwards: and therefore their Christian thinking is superinduced on a basis of world-thinking. Theology accordingly in each age is stamped with the traits of the philosophy ruling at the time. The supernatural is the very breath of Christianity's nostrils and an anti-supernaturalistic atmosphere is to it the deadliest miasma. An absolutely anti-supernaturalistic Christianity is therefore a contradiction in terms. Nevertheless, immersed in an anti-supernaturalistic world-atmosphere, Christian thinking tends to become as anti-supernaturalistic as is possible to it. And it is indisputable that this is the characteristic of the Christian thought of our day. As Dr. Bascom puts it, the task that has been set themselves by those who would fain be considered the "bolder thinkers of our time" is "to curb the supernatural, to bring it into the full service of reason." The real question with them seems to be, not what kind and measure of supernaturalism does the Christianity of Christ and His apostles recognize and require; but, how little of the supernatural may be admitted and yet men continue to call themselves Christians. The effort is not to Christianize the world-conception of the age, but specifically to desupernaturalize Christianity so as to bring it into accord with the prevailing world-view.

The effects of the adoption of this point of view are all about us. This is the account to give, for example, of that speculative theism which poses under the name of "non-miraculous Christianity" and seeks to convince the world through reasoners like Pfleiderer and to woo it through novels like "Robert Elsmere." This is also the account to give of that odd positivistic religion offered us by the followers of Albrecht Ritschl, who, under color of a phenomenalism which knows nothing of "the thing in itself," profess to hold it not to be a matter of serious importance to Christianity whether God be a person, or Christ be God, or the soul have any persistence, and to find it enough to bask in the sweet impression which is made on the heart by the personality of the man Jesus, dimly seen through the mists of critical history. This is the account again to give of the growing disbelief and denial of the virgin-birth of our Lord; of the increasingly numerous and subtle attempts to explain away His bodily resurrection; and, in far wider circles, of the ever renewed and constantly varying efforts that positively swarm about us to reduce His miracles and those of His predecessors and followers - the God-endowed prophets and apostles of the two Testaments - to natural phenomena, the product of natural forces, though these forces may be held to be as yet undiscovered or even entirely undiscoverable by men. This also is the account to give of the vogue which destructive criticism of the Biblical books has gained in our time; and it is also the reason why detailed refutations of the numerous critical theories of the origin of the Biblical writings, though so repeatedly complete and logically final, have so little effect in abolishing destructive criticism. Its roots are not set in its detailed accounts of the origin of the Biblical writings, but in its anti-supernaturalistic bias: and so long as its two fixed points remain to it - its starting point in unbelief in the supernatural and its goal in a naturalistic development of the religion of Israel and its record - it easily shifts the pathway by which it proceeds from one to the other, according to its varying needs. It is of as little moment to it how it passes from one point to the other, as it is to the electrician what course his wire shall follow after he has secured its end attachments. Therefore theory follows theory with bewildering rapidity and - shall we not say it? - with equally bewildering levity, while the conclusion remains the same. And finally this is the account to give of the endlessly varying schemes of self-salvation offered the world in our day, and of the practical neglect and not infrequent open denial of the personal work of the Holy Spirit on the heart. In every way, in a word, and in every sphere of Christian thought, the Christian thinking of our time is curbed, limited, confined within unnatural bounds by doubt and hesitation before the supernatural. In wide circles the reality of direct supernatural activity in this world is openly rejected: in wider circles still it is doubted: almost everywhere its assertion is timid and chary. It is significant of much that one of the brightest of recent Christian apologists has found it necessary to prefix to his treatment of Christian supernaturalism a section on "the evasion of the supernatural" among Christian thinkers.

It is certainly to be allowed that it is no light task for a Christian man to hold his anchorage in the rush of such a current of anti-supernaturalistic thought. We need not wonder that so many are carried from their moorings. How shall we so firmly brace ourselves that, as the flood of the world's thought beats upon us, it may bring us cleansing and refreshment, but may not sweep us away from our grasp on Christian truth? How, but by constantly reminding ourselves of what Christianity is, and of what as Christian men we must needs believe as to the nature and measure of the supernatural in its impact on the life of the world? For this nature and measure of the supernatural we have all the evidence which gives us Christianity. And surely the mass of that evidence is far too great to be shaken by any current of the world's thought whatever. Christian truth is a rock too securely planted to go down before any storm. Let us attach ourselves to it by such strong cables, and let us know so well its promontories of vantage and secure hiding-places, that though the waters may go over us we shall not be moved. To this end it will not be useless to recall continually the frankness of Christianity's commitment to the absolute supernatural. And it may be that we shall find profit in enumerating at this time a few of the points, at least, at which, as Christian men, we must recognize, with all heartiness, the intrusion of pure supernaturalism into our conception of things.

I. The Christian man, then, must, first of all, give the heartiest and frankest recognition to the supernatural fact. "God," we call it. But it is not enough for us to say "God." The pantheist, too, says "God," and means this universal frame: for him accordingly the supernatural is but the more inclusive natural. When the Christian says "God," he means, and if he is to remain Christian he must mean, a supernatural God - a God who is not entangled in nature, is not only another name for nature in its coordinated activities, or for that mystery which lies beneath and throbs through the All; but who is above nature and beyond, who existed, the Living God, before nature was, and should nature cease to be would still exist, the Everlasting God, and so long as this universal frame endures exists above and outside of nature as its Lord, its Lawgiver, and its Almighty King.

No Christian man may allow that the universe, material and spiritual combined, call it infinite if you will, in all its operations, be they as myriad as you choose, sums up the being or the activities of God. Before this universe was, God was, the one eternal One, rich in infinite activities: and while this universe persists, outside and beyond and above it God is, the one infinite One, ineffably rich in innumerable activities inconceivable, it may be, to the whole universe of derived being. He is not imprisoned within His works: the laws which He has ordained for them express indeed His character, but do not compass the possibilities of His action. The Apostle Paul has no doubt told us that "in Him we live and move and have our being," but no accredited voice has declared that in the universe He lives and moves and has His being. No, the heaven of heavens cannot contain Him; and what He has made is to what He is only as the smallest moisture-particle of the most attenuated vapor to the mighty expanse of the immeasurable sea.

The divine immanence is a fact to the Christian man. But to the Christian man this fact of the divine immanence is not the ultimate expression of his conception of God. Its recognition does not operate for him as a limitation of God in being or activities; it does not result in enclosing Him within His works and confining the possibilities of His action to the capacities of their laws. It is rather the expression of the Christian's sense of the comparative littleness of the universe - to every part and activity of which God is present because the whole universe is to Him as the mustard seed lying in the palm of a man. An immanent God, yes: but what is His immanence in even this immense universe to a God like ours? God in nature, yes: but what is God in nature to the inconceivable vastness of the God above nature? To the Christian conception, so far is the immanent God from exhausting the idea of God, that it touches but the skirt of His garment. It is only when we rise above the divine immanence to catch some faint glimpse of the God that transcends all the works of His hands - to the truly supernatural God - that we begin to know who and what the Christian God is. Let us say, then, with all the emphasis that we are capable of, that the Christian's God is before all else the transcendent God - a God so great that though He be truly the supporter of this whole universe as well as its maker, yet His activity as ground of existence and governor of all that moves, is as nothing to that greater activity which is His apart from and above what is to us the infinite universe but to Him an infinitesimal speck of being that cannot in any way control His life. The Christian's God is no doubt the God of nature and the God in nature: but before and above all this He is the God above nature - the Supernatural Fact. As Christian men we must see to it that we retain a worthy conception of God: and an exclusively immanent God is, after all, a very little and belittling notion to hold of Him the product of whose simple word all this universe is.

II. The Christian man, again, must needs most frankly and heartily believe in the supernatural act. Belief in the supernatural act is, indeed, necessarily included in belief in the supernatural fact. If immanence is an inadequate formula for the being of God, it is equally inadequate as a formula for His activities. For where God is, there He must act: and if He exists above and beyond nature He must act also above and beyond nature. The supernatural God cannot but be conceived as a supernatural actor. He who called nature into being by a word cannot possibly be subject to the creature of His will in the mode of His activities. He to whom all nature is but a speck of derived and dependent being cannot be thought of as, in the reach of His operations, bound within the limits of the laws which operate within this granule and hold it together.

Before all that we call nature came into existence God was, in infinite fullness of life and of the innumerable activities which infinite fullness of life implies: and that nature has come into existence is due to an act of His prenatural power. Nature, in other words, has not come into existence at all: it has been made. And if it was made it must have been by a supernatural act. The Christian conception of creation involves thus the frankest recognition of the supernatural act. To the Christian man nature cannot be conceived either as self-existent or as self-made or as a necessary emanation from the basal Being which we call God, nor yet as a mere modification in form of the one eternal substance. It is a manufactured article, the product of an act of power. God spoke and it was: and the God that thus spoke nature into being, is necessarily a supernatural God, creating nature by a supernatural act. As Christian men, we must at all hazards preserve this supernaturalistic conception of creation.

There are voices strong and subtle which would woo us from it. One would have us believe that in what we call creation, God did but give form and law to a dark Somewhat, which from all eternity lay beside Him - chaining thus by His almighty power the realm of inimical matter to the divine chariot wheels of order and progress. Or, if that crass dualism seems too gross, the outlying realm of darkness is subtly spoken of as the Nothing, the power it exerts is affirmed to be simply a dull and inert resistance, while yet the character of the product of God's creative power is represented as conditioned by the "Nothing" out of which it is made. Another would have us believe that what we call nature is of the substance of God Himself, and what we call creation is but the modification of form and manifestation which takes place in the eternal systole and diastole of the divine life. Or, if this crass pantheism seems too gross, a subtle ontology is called in, matter is resolved into its atoms, the atoms are conceived as mere centers of force, and this force is asserted to be the pure will of God: so that after all no substance exists except the substance of God. As over against all such speculations, gross and subtle alike, the Christian man is bound to maintain that God created the heavens and the earth - that this great act by which He called into being all that is was in the strictest sense of the words a creation, and that in this act of creation He produced in the strictest sense of the words a somewhat. It was an act of creation: not a mere molding or ordering of a preëxistent substance - not a mere evolution or modification of His own substance. And in it He produced a somewhat - not a mere appearance or simulacrum, but being, derived and dependent being, but just as real being as His own infinite essence. In creation, therefore, the Christian man is bound to confess a frankly supernatural act - an act above nature, independent of nature, by which nature itself and all its laws were brought into existence.

Nor can he confine himself to the confession of this one supernatural act. The Christian's God not only existed before nature and is its Creator, but also exists above nature and is its Governor and Lord. It is inconceivable that He should be active only in that speck of being which He Himself has called into existence by an act of His independent power. It exists in Him, not He in it; and just because it is finite and He is infinite, the great sphere of His life and activity lies above it and beyond. It is equally inconceivable that His activities with reference to it, or even within it, should be confined to the operation of the laws which He has ordained for the regulation of its activities and not of His. What power has this little speck of derived being to exclude the operation upon it and within it of that almighty force to whose energy it owes both its existence and its persistence in being? Have its forces acquired such strength as to neutralize the power which called it into being? Or has it framed for itself a crust so hard as to isolate it from the omnipotence which plays about it and successfully to resist the power that made it, that it may not crush it or pierce it at will through and through? Certainly he who confesses the Christian's God has no ground for denying the supernatural act.

Now nothing is further from the Christian's thought than to doubt the reality and the efficiency of second causes. Just because he believes that in creation God created a somewhat - real substance endowed with real powers - he believes that these powers really act and really produce their effects. He thinks of nothing so little, to be sure, as to doubt the immanence of God in these second causes. It is his joy to see the hand of God in all that occurs, and to believe that it is not only by His preserving care, but in accordance with His direction, that every derived cause acts and every effect is produced. But least of all men has the Christian a desire to substitute the immediate energy of God for His mediate activity in His ordinary government of the universe which He has made. Just because he believes that the universe was well made, he believes that the forces with which it was endowed are competent for its ordinary government and he traces in their action the divine purpose unrolling its faultless scroll. The Christian man, then, is frankly ready to accredit to second causes all that second causes are capable of producing. He is free to trace them in all the products of time, and to lend his ear to the poets when they tell him that

This solid earth whereon we tread,

In tracts of fluent heat began,

And grew to seeming random forms,

The seeming prey of cyclic storms,

Till at the last arose the man.

He only insists that in all this great process by which, he is told, the ordered world was hacked and hewn out by the great forces and convulsions of nature, we shall perceive, also with the poets, that those great artificers, "Hack and Hew, were the sons of God," and stood

One at His right hand and one at His left,

To obey as He taught them how.

Let us open our eyes wide to the grandeur and perfection of God's providential government; and let us not neglect to note that here too is a supernaturalism, and that in the ordered progress of the world towards that one far-off divine event we can trace the very finger of God.

But let us not fancy, on the other hand, that the providence of God any more than the immanence of God is a formula adequate to sum up all His activities. God is the God of providence: but He is much more than the God of providence. The universe is but a speck in His sight: and its providential government is scarcely an incident in the infinite fullness of His life. It is certain that He acts in infinitely varied modes, otherwise and beyond providence, and there is no reason we can give why He should not act otherwise and beyond providence even in relation to the universe which He has made. In our conception of a supernatural God, we dare not erect His providential activity into an exclusive law of action for Him, and refuse to allow of any other mode of operation. Who can say, for example, whether creation itself, in the purity and absoluteness of that conception, may not be progressive, and may not correlate itself with and follow the process of the providential development of the world, in the plan of such a God - so that the works of creation and providence may interlace through all time in the production of this completed universe? What warrant, then, can there be to assume beforehand that some way must be found for "evolution" to spring the chasms in the creative process over which even divinely led second causes appear insufficient to build a bridge? And if for any reason - certainly not unforeseen by God, or in contradiction to His ordering - there should a "rift appear in the lute," who dare assert that the supernatural God may not directly intervene for its mending, but must needs beat out His music on the broken strings or let their discord jar down the ages to all eternity? The laws of nature are not bonds by which God is tied so that He cannot move save within their limits: they are not in His sight such great and holy things that it would be sacrilege for Him not to honor them in all His activities. His real life is above and beyond them: there is no reason why He may not at will act independently of them even in dealing with nature itself: and if there be reason why He should act apart from them we may be sure that the supernatural God will so act. The frank recognition of the possibility of the supernatural act, and of its probable reality on adequate occasion, is in any event a part of the Christian man's heritage.

III. And this leads us to recognize next that the Christian man must cherish a frank and hearty faith in a supernatural redemption. As certainly as the recognition of the great fact of sin is an element in the Christian's world-conception, the need and therefore the actuality of the direct corrective act of God - of miracle, in a word - enters ineradicably into his belief. We cannot confess ourselves sinners - radically at breach with God and broken and deformed in our moral and spiritual being - and look to purely natural causes or to simply providential agencies, which act only through natural causes and therefore never beyond their reach, for our recovery to God and to moral and spiritual health. And in proportion as we realize what sin is - what, in the Christian conception, is the nature of that bottomless gulf which it has opened between the sinning soul and the all-holy and faultlessly just God, the single source of the soul's life, and what is the consequent mortal character of the wound which sin has inflicted on the soul - in that proportion will it become more and more plain to us that there is no ability in what we fondly call the remedial forces of nature, no capacity in growth, however skillfully led by even an all-wise providence, to heal this hurt. A seed of life may indeed be developed into abounding life: but no wise leading can direct a seed of death into the ways of life. Dead things do not climb. As well expect dead and decaying Lazarus through the action of natural forces, however wisely directed, to put on the fresh firmness of youthful flesh and stand forth a sound and living man, as a soul dead in sin to rise by natural powers into newness of life. No, the world knows that dead men do not live again: and the world's singers, on the plane of nature, rightly declare,

One thing is certain, and the rest is lies;

The flower that once has blown, forever dies.

If no supernatural voice had cried at the door of Lazarus' tomb, "Lazarus, come forth!" it would have been true of him, too, what the rebellious poet shouts in the ears of the rest of men,

Once dead, you never shall return.

And if there be no voice of supernatural power to call dead souls back unto life, those who are dead in sin must needs fester in their corruption to the eternity of eternities.

One might suppose the supernaturalness of redemption to be too obviously the very heart of the whole Christian system, and to constitute too fundamentally the very essence of the Christian proclamation, for it to be possible for any one claiming the Christian name to lose sight of it for a moment. Assuredly the note of the whole history of redemption is the supernatural. To see this we do not need to focus our eyes on the supernatural man who came to redeem sinners - the "man from heaven," as Paul calls Him, who was indeed of the seed of David according to the flesh but at the same time was God over all, blessed forever, and became thus poor only that by His poverty we might be made rich - the Word who was in the beginning with God and was God, as John calls Him, who became flesh and dwelt among men, exhibiting to their astonished eyes the glory of an only-begotten of the Father - the One sent of the Father, whom to have seen was to see the Father also, as He Himself witnessed, who is before Abraham was, and while on earth abides still in Heaven - who came to earth by an obviously supernatural pathway, breaking His way through a virgin's womb, and lived on earth an obviously supernatural life, with the forces of nature and powers of disease and death subject to His simple word, and left the earth in an obviously supernatural ascension after having burst the bonds of the grave and led captivity captive. The whole course of preparation for His coming, extending through centuries, is just as clearly a supernatural history - sown with miracle and prophecy, and itself the greatest miracle and prophecy of them all: and the whole course of garnering the fruits of His coming in the establishment of a Church through the apostles He had chosen for the task, is supernatural to the core. Assuredly, if the redemptive process is not a supernatural operation, the entire proclamation of Christianity is a lie: as Paul declared with specific reference to one of its supernatural items, we, as Christians, "are found false-witnesses of God," "our preaching is vain," and "our faith is also vain."

Nevertheless, inconceivable as it would appear, there are many voices raised about us which would fain persuade us, in the professed interests of Christianity itself, to attenuate or evacuate the supernatural even in redemption. That supernatural history of preparation for the Redeemer, we are asked, did it indeed all happen as it is there recorded by the simple-minded writers? Are we not at liberty to read it merely as the record of what pious hearts, meditating on the great past, fancied ought to have occurred, when God was with the fathers; and to dig out from beneath the strata of its devout imaginations, as veritable history, only a sober narrative of how Israel walked in the felt presence of God and was led by His providence to ever clearer and higher conceptions of His Holy Being and of its mission as His chosen people? And that supernatural figure which the evangelists and apostles have limned for us, did it indeed ever walk this sin-stricken earth of ours? Are we not bound to see in it, we are asked, merely the projection of the hopes and fears swallowed up in hope of His devoted followers, clothing with all imaginable heavenly virtues the dead form of their Master snatched from their sight - of whom they had "hoped that it was He who should deliver Israel"? And are we not bound reverently to draw aside the veil laid by such tender hands over the dead face, that we may see beneath it the real Jesus, dead indeed, but a man of infinite sweetness of temper and depth of faith, from whose holy life we may even yet catch an inspiration and receive an impulse for good? And Peter and Paul and John and the rest of those whose hearts were set on fire by the spectacle of that great and noble life, are we really to take their enthusiasm as the rule of our thought? Are we not bound, we are asked, though honoring the purity of their fine hero-worship, to curb the extravagance of their assertions; and to follow the faith quickened in them by the Master's example while we correct the exuberance of their fancy in attributing to Him superhuman qualities and performances? In a word - for let us put it at length plainly - are we not at liberty, are we not bound, to eviscerate Christianity of all that makes it a redemptive scheme, of all that has given it power in the earth, of all that has made it a message of hope and joy to, lost men, of all that belongs to its very heart's blood and essence, as witnessed by all history and all experience alike, and yet claim still to remain Christians? No, let our answer be: as Christian men, a thousand times, no! When the anti-supernaturalistic bias of this age attacks the supernatural in the very process of redemption, and seeks to evaporate it into a set of platitudes about the guiding hand of God in history, the power of the man Jesus' pure faith over His followers' imaginations, and the imitation by us of the religion of Jesus - it has assaulted Christianity in the very citadel of its life. As Christian men we must assert with all vigor the purity and the absoluteness of the supernatural in redemption.

IV. And let us add at once, further, that as Christian men we must retain a frank and hearty faith in a supernatural revelation. For how should we be advantaged by a supernatural redemption of which we knew nothing? Who is competent to uncover to us the meaning of this great series of redemptive acts but God Himself? It is easy to talk of revelation by deed. But how little is capable of being revealed by even the mightiest deeds, unaccompanied by the explanatory word? Two thousand years ago a child was born in Bethlehem, who throve and grew up nobly, lived a life of poverty and beneficence, was cruelly slain and rose from the dead. What is that to us? After a little, as His followers sat waiting in Jerusalem, there was a rush as of a mighty wind, and an appearance of tongues of fire descending upon their heads. Strange: but what concern have we in it all? We require the revealing word to tell us who and what this goodly child was, why He lived and what He wrought by His death, what it meant that He could not be holden of the grave, and what those cloven tongues of flame signified - before they can avail as redemptive facts to us. No earthly person knew, or could know, their import. No earthly insight was capable of divining it. No earthly authority could assure the world of any presumed meaning attached to them. None but God was in a position to know or assert their real significance. Only, then, as God spake through His servants, the prophets and apostles, could the mighty deeds by which He would save the world be given a voice and a message - be transformed into a gospel. And so the supernatural word receives its necessary position among the redemptive acts as their interpretation and their complement.

We cannot miss the fact that from the beginning the word of God took its honorable place among the redemptive deeds of God. "God spake," declares the record as significantly and as constantly as it declares that "God did." And we cannot miss the fact that God's word, giving their meaning, their force, and their value to His great redemptive acts, enters as vitally into our Christian faith and hope as the acts themselves. As Christian men we cannot let slip our faith in the one without losing also our grasp upon the other. And this is the explanation both, on the one hand, of the constancy of the hold which Christianity has kept upon the Word of God, and, on the other, of the persistency of the assault which has been made upon it in the interests of an anti-supernaturalistic world-view. It is no idle task which has been set itself by naturalistic criticism, when it has undertaken to explain away the supernaturalism of this record of God's redemptive work, which we call the Bible. This is the rock upon which all its efforts to desupernaturalize Christianity break. It is no otiose traditionalism which leads the Christian man to cling to this Word of the living God which has come down to him through the ages. It is his sole assurance that there has been a redemptive activity exercised by God in the world - the single Ariadne's thread by which he is enabled to trace the course of redemption through the ages. If God did not so speak of old to the fathers by the prophets, if He has not in the end of these days so spoken to us in His Son - He may indeed have intervened redemptively in the world, but to us it would be as if He had not. Only as His voice has pierced to us to declare His purpose, can we read the riddle of His operations: only as He interprets to us their significancei can we learn the wonder of His ways. And just in proportion as our confidence in this interpretative word shall wane, in just that proportion shall we lose our hold upon the fact of a redemptive work of God in the world. That we may believe in a supernatural redemption, we must believe in a supernatural revelation, by which alone we can be assured that this and not something else was what occurred, and that this and not something other was what it meant. The Christian man cannot afford to relax in the least degree his entire confidence in a supernatural revelation.

V. And finally, we need to remind ourselves that as Christian men we must cherish a frank and hearty faith in a supernatural salvation. It is not enough to believe that God has intervened in this natural world of ours and wrought a supernatural redemption: and that He has Himself made known to men His mighty acts and unveiled to them the significance of His working. It is upon a field of the dead that the Sun of righteousness has risen, and the shouts that announce His advent fall on deaf ears: yea, even though the morning stars should again sing for joy and the air be palpitant with the echo of the great proclamation, their voice could not penetrate the ears of the dead. As we sweep our eyes over the world lying in its wickedness, it is the valley of the prophet's vision which we see before us: a valley that is filled with bones, and lo! they are very dry. What benefit is there in proclaiming to dry bones even the greatest of redemptions? How shall we stand and cry, "O ye dry bones, hear ye the word of the Lord!" In vain the redemption, in vain its proclamation, unless there come a breath from heaven to breathe upon these slain that they may live. The redemption of Christ is therefore no more central to the Christian hope than the creative operations of the Holy Spirit upon the heart: and the supernatural redemption itself would remain a mere name outside of us and beyond our reach, were it not realized in the subjective life by an equally supernatural application.

Yet how easy it is, immersed in an anti-supernaturalistic world; to forget this our sound confession! Are we not men? we are asked: and is not the individuality of every human being a sacred thing? Must not each be the architect of his own fortunes, the creator of his own future - not indeed apart from the influence of the Holy Spirit, but certainly without His compulsion? Is it not mere fanaticism to dream that the very penetralium of our personality is invaded by an alien power, and the whole trend of our lives reversed in an instant of time, independently of our previous choice? Led, led certainly we may be by the Holy Spirit: but assuredly our manhood is respected and no non-ethical cataclysms are wrought in our lives by intrusive powers, not first sought and then yielded to at our own proper motion. But alas! alas! dead things are not led! Of course, the Christian is led by the Holy Spirit - and let us see to it that we heartily acknowledge it and fully recognize this directive supernaturalism throughout the Christian life. But that it may become Christian, and so come under the leading of the Spirit, the dead soul needs something more than leading. It needs reanimation, resurrection, regeneration, re-creation. So the Scriptures unwearyingly teach us. And so the Christian must, with all frankness and emphasis, constantly maintain.

The Christian man is not the product of the regenerative forces of nature under however divine a direction; he is not an "evolution" out of the natural man: he is a new creation. He has not made himself by however wary a walk, letting the ape and tiger die and cherishing his higher ideals until they be come dominant in his life; he is not merely the old man improved: he is a new man, recreated in Christ Jesus by the almighty power of the Holy Spirit - by a power comparable only to that by which God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. As well might it be contended that Lazarus, not only came forth from the tomb, but rose from the dead by his own will and at his own motion, as that the Christian man not only of his own desire works out his salvation with fear and trembling, in the knowledge that it is God who is working in him both the willing and the doing according to His own good pleasure, but has even initiated that salvation in his soul by an act of his own will and accord. He lives by virtue of the life that has been given him, and prior to the inception of that life, of course, he has no power of action: and it is of the utmost importance that as Christian men we should not lower our testimony to this true supernaturalness of our salvation. We confess that it was God who made us men: let us confess with equal heartiness that it is God who makes us Christians.

Of such sort, then, is the supernaturalism which is involved in the confession of Christians. We have made it no part of our present task to enumerate all the ways in which the frank recognition of the supernatural enters into the very essence of Christianity. Much less do we essay here to discriminate between the several modes of supernatural action which Christian thought is bound to admit. We have fancied it well, however, to bring together a few of the instances in which the maintenance of the occurrence of the absolute supernatural is incumbent on every Christian man. Thus we may fortify ourselves against that unconscious yielding of the citadel of our faith to which every one is exposed who breathes the atinosphere of our unbelieving and encroaching world. The confession of a supernatural God, who may and does act in a supernatural mode, and who acting in a supernatural mode has wrought out for us a supernatural redemption, interpreted in a supernatural revelation, and applied by the supernatural operations of His Spirit - this confession constitutes the core of the Christian profession. Only he who holds this faith whole and entire has a full right to the Christian name: only he can hope to conserve the fullness of Christian truth. Let us see to it that under whatever pressure and amid whatever difficulties, we make it heartily and frankly our confession, and think and live alike in its strength and by its light. So doing, we shall find ourselves intrenched against the assaults of the world's anti-supernaturalism, and able by God's grace to witness a good confession in the midst of its most insidious attacks.

The Idea of Systematic Theology1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

The term "Systematic Theology" has long been in somewhat general use, especially in America, to designate one of the theological disciplines. And, on the whole, it appears to be a sufficiently exact designation of this discipline. It has not, of course, escaped criticism. The main faults that have been found with it are succinctly summed up by a recent writer in the following compact phrases:

The expression "systematic theology" is really an impertinent tautology. It is a tautology, in so far as a theology that is not systematic or methodical would be no theology. The idea of rational method lies in the word logos, which forms part of the term theology. And it is an impertinence, in so far as it suggests that there are other theological disciplinae, or departments of theology, which are not methodical.2

Is not this, however, just a shade hypercritical? What is meant by calling this discipline "Systematic Theology" is not that it deals with its material in a systematic or methodical way, and the other disciplines do not; but that it presents its material in the form of a system. Other disciplines may use a chronological, a historical, or some other method: this discipline must needs employ a systematic, that is to say, a philosophical or scientific method. It might be equally well designated, therefore, "Philosophical Theology," or "Scientific Theology." But we should not by the adoption of one of these terms escape the ambiguities which are charged against the term "Systematic Theology." Other theological disciplines may also claim to be philosophical or scientific. If exegesis should be systematic, it should also be scientific. If history should be methodical, it should also be philosophical. An additional ambiguity would also be brought to these terms from their popular usage. There would be danger that "Philosophical Theology" should be misapprehended as theology dominated by some philosophical system. There would be a similar danger that "Scientific Theology" should be misunderstood as theology reduced to an empirical science, or dependent upon an "experimental method." Nevertheless these terms also would fairly describe what we mean by "Systematic Theology." They too would discriminate it from its sister disciplines, as the philosophical discipline which investigates from the philosophical standpoint the matter with which all the disciplines deal. And they would keep clearly before our minds the main fact in the case, namely, that Systematic Theology, as distinguished from its sister disciplines, is a science, and is to be conceived as a science and treated as a science.

The two designations, "Philosophical Theology" and "Scientific Theology," are practically synonyms. But they differ in their connotation as the terms "philosophy" and "science" differ. The distinction between these terms in a reference like the present would seem to be that between the whole and one of its parts. Philosophy is the scientia scientiarum. What a science does for a division of knowledge, that philosophy essays to do for the mass of knowledge. A science reduces a section of our knowledge to order and harmony: philosophy reduces the sciences to order and harmony. Accordingly there are many sciences, and but one philosophy. We, therefore, so far agree with Professor D. W. Simon (whom we have quoted above in order to disagree with him), when he says that "what a science properly understood does for a subsystem; that, philosophy aims to do for the system which the subsystems constitute." "Its function is so to grasp the whole that every part shall find its proper place therein, and the parts, that they shall form an orderly organic whole": "so to correlate the reals, which with their interactivities make up the world or the universe, that the whole shall be seen in its harmony and unity; and that to every individual real shall be assigned the place in which it can be seen to be discharging its proper functions."3 This, as will be at once perceived, is the function of each science in its own sphere. To call "Systematic Theology" "Philosophical Theology" or "Scientific Theology" would therefore be all one in essential meaning. Only, when we call it "Philosophical Theology," we should be conceiving it as a science among the sciences and should have our eye upon its place in the universal sum of knowledge: while, when we call it "Scientific Theology," our mind should be occupied with it in itself, as it were in isolation, and with the proper mode of dealing with its material. In either case we are affirming that it deals with its material as an organizable system of knowledge; that it deals with it from the philosophical point of view; that it is, in other words, in its essential nature a science.

It is possible that the implications of this determination are not always fully realized. When we have made the simple assertion of "Systematic Theology" that it is in its essential nature a science, we have already determined most of the vexing questions which arise concerning it in a formal point of view. In this single predicate is implicitly included a series of affirmations, which, when taken together, will give us a rather clear conception not only of what Systematic Theology is, but also of what it deals with, whence it obtains its material, and for what purpose it exists.

I. First of all, then, let us observe that to say that Systematic Theology is a science is to deny that it is a historical discipline, and to affirm that it seeks to discover, not what has been or is held to be true, but what is ideally true; in other words, it is to declare that it deals with absolute truth and aims at organizing into a concatenated system all the truth in its sphere. Geology is a science, and on that very account there cannot be two geologies; its matter is all the well-authenticated facts in its sphere, and its aim is to digest all these facts into one all-comprehending system. There may be rival psychologies, which fill the world with vain jangling; but they do not strive together in order that they may obtain the right to exist side by side in equal validity, but in strenuous effort to supplant and supersede one another: there can be but one true science of mind. In like manner, just because theology is a science there can be but one theology. This all-embracing system will brook no rival in its sphere, and there can be two theologies only at the cost of one or both of them being imperfect, incomplete, false. It is because theology, in accordance with a somewhat prevalent point of view, is often looked upon as a historical rather than a scientific discipline, that it is so frequently spoken of and defined as if it were but one of many similar schemes of thought. There is no doubt such a thing as Christian theology, as distinguished from Buddhist theology or Mohammedan theology; and men may study it as the theological implication of Christianity considered as one of the world's religions. But when studied from this point of view, it forms a section of a historical discipline and furnishes its share of facts for a history of religions; on the data supplied by which a science or philosophy of religion may in turn be based. We may also, no doubt, speak of the Pelagian and Augustinian theologies, or of the Calvinistic and Arminian theologies; but, again, we are speaking as historians and from a historical point of view. The Pelagian and Augustinian theologies are not two coordinate sciences of theology; they are rival theologies. If one is true, just so far the other is false, and there is but one theology. This we may identify, as an empirical fact, with either or neither; but it is at all events one, inclusive of all theological truth and exclusive of all else as false or not germane to the subject.

In asserting that theology is a science, then, we assert that, in its subject-matter, it includes all the facts belonging to that sphere of truth which we call theological; and we deny that it needs or will admit of limitation by a discriminating adjectival definition. We may speak of it as Christian theology just as we may speak of it as true theology, if we mean thereby only more fully to describe what, as a matter of fact, theology is found to be; but not, if we mean thereby to discriminate it from some other assumed theology thus erected to a coordinate position with it. We may describe our method of procedure in attempting to ascertain and organize the truths that come before us for building into the system, and so speak of logical or inductive, of speculative or organic theology; or we may separate the one body of theology into its members, and, just as we speak of surface and organic geology or of physiological and direct psychology, so speak of the theology of grace and of sin, or of natural and revealed theology. But all these are but designations of methods of procedure in dealing with the one whole, or of the various sections that together constitute the one whole, which in its completeness is the science of theology, and which, as a science, is inclusive of all the truth in its sphere, however ascertained, however presented, however defended.

II. There is much more than this included, however, in calling theology a science. For the very existence of any science, three things are presupposed: (1) the reality of its subject-matter; (2) the capacity of the human mind to apprehend, receive into itself, and rationalize this subject-matter; and (3) some medium of communication by which the subject-matter is brought before the mind and presented to it for apprehension. There could be no astronomy, for example, if there were no heavenly bodies. And though the heavenly bodies existed, there could still be no science of them were there no mind to apprehend them. Facts do not make a science; even facts as apprehended do not make a science; they must be not only apprehended, but also so far comprehended as to be rationalized and thus combined into a correlated system. The mind brings to every science somewhat which, though included in the facts, is not derived from the facts considered in themselves alone, as isolated data, or even as data perceived in some sort of relation to one another. Though they be thus known, science is not yet; and is not born save through the efforts of the mind in subsuming the facts under its own intuitions and forms of thought. No mind is satisfied with a bare cognition of facts: its very constitution forces it on to a restless energy until it succeeds in working these facts not only into a network of correlated relations among themselves, but also into a rational body of thought correlated to itself and its necessary modes of thinking. The condition of science, then, is that the facts which fall within its scope shall be such as stand in relation not only to our faculties, so that they may be apprehended; but also to our mental constitution so that they may be so far understood as to be rationalized and wrought into a system relative to our thinking. Thus a science of aesthetics presupposes an aesthetic faculty, and a science of morals a moral nature, as truly as a science of logic presupposes a logical apprehension, and a science of mathematics a capacity to comprehend the relations of numbers. But still again, though the facts had real existence, and the mind were furnished with a capacity for their reception and for a sympathetic estimate and embracing of them in their relations, no science could exist were there no media by which the facts should be brought before and communicated to the mind. The transmitter and intermediating wire are as essential for telegraphing as the message and the receiving instrument. Subjectively speaking, sense perception is the essential basis of all science of external things; self-consciousness, of internal things. But objective media are also necessary. For example, there could be no astronomy, were there no trembling ether through whose delicate telegraphy the facts of light and heat are transmitted to us from the suns and systems of the heavens. Subjective and objective conditions of communication must unite, before the facts that constitute the material of a science can be placed before the mind that gives it its form. The sense of sight is essential to astronomy: yet the sense of sight would be useless for forming an astronomy were there no objective ethereal messengers to bring us news from the stars. With these an astronomy becomes possible; but how meager an astronomy compared with the new possibilities which have opened out with the discovery of a new medium of communication in the telescope, followed by still newer media in the subtle instruments by which our modern investigators not only weigh the spheres in their courses, but analyze them into their chemical elements, map out the heavens in a chart, and separate the suns into their primary constituents.

Like all other sciences, therefore, theology, for its very existence as a science, presupposes the objective reality of the subject-matter with which it deals; the subjective capacity of the human mind so far to understand this subject-matter as to be able to subsume it under the forms of its thinking and to rationalize it into not only a comprehensive, but also a comprehensible whole; and the existence of trustworthy media of communication by which the subject-matter is brought to the mind and presented before it for perception and understanding. That is to say: (1) The affirmation that theology is a science presupposes the affirmation that God is, and that He has relation to His creatures. Were there no God, there could be no theology; nor could there be a theology if, though He existed, He existed out of relation with His creatures. The whole body of philosophical apologetics is, therefore, presupposed in and underlies the structure of scientific theology. (2) The affirmation that theology is a science presupposes the affirmation that man has a religious nature, that is, a nature capable of understanding not only that God is, but also, to some extent, what He is; not only that He stands in relations with His creatures, but also what those relations are. Had man no religious nature he might, indeed, apprehend certain facts concerning God, but he could not so understand Him in His relations to man as to be able to respond to those facts in a true and sympathetic embrace. The total product of the great science of religion, which investigates the nature and workings of this element in man's mental constitution, is therefore presupposed in and underlies the structure of scientific theology. (3) The affirmation that theology is a science presupposes the affirmation that there are media of communication by which God and divine things are brought before the minds of men, that they may perceive them and, in perceiving, understand them. In other words, when we affirm that theology is a science, we affirm not only the reality of God's existence and our capacity so far to understand Him, but we affirm that He has made Himself known to us - we affirm the objective reality of a revelation. Were there no revelation of God to man, our capacity to understand Him would lie dormant and unawakened; and though He really existed it would be to us as if He were not. There would be a God to be known and a mind to know Him; but theology would be as impossible as if there were neither the one nor the other. Not only, then, philosophical, but also the whole mass of historical apologetics by which the reality of revelation and its embodiment in the Scriptures are vindicated, is presupposed in and underlies the structure of scientific theology.

III. In thus developing the implications of calling theology a science, we have already gone far towards determining our exact conception of what theology is. We have in effect, for example, settled our definition of theology. A science is defined from its subject-matter; and the subject-matter of theology is God in His nature and in His relations with His creatures. Theology is therefore that science which treats of God and of the relations between God and the universe. To this definition most theologians have actually come. And those who define theology as "the science of God," mean the term God in a broad sense as inclusive also of His relations; while others exhibit their sense of the need of this inclusiveness by calling it "the science of God and of divine things"; while still others speak of it, more loosely, as "the science of the supernatural." These definitions fail rather in precision of language than in correctness of conception.

Others, however, go astray in the conception itself. Thus theologians of the school of Schleiermacher usually derive their definition from the sources rather than the subject-matter of the science - and so speak of theology as "the science of faith" or the like; a thoroughly unscientific procedure, even though our view of the sources be complete and unexceptionable, which is certainly not the case with this school. Quite as confusing is it to define theology, as is very currently done and often as an outgrowth of this same subjective tendency, as "the science of religion," or even - pressing to its greatest extreme the historical conception, which as often underlies this type of definition - as "the science of the Christian religion." Theology and religion are parallel products of the same body of facts in diverse spheres; the one in the sphere of thought and the other in the sphere of life. And the definition of theology as "the science of religion" thus confounds the product of the facts concerning God and His relations with His creatures working through the hearts and lives of men, with those facts themselves; and consequently, whenever strictly understood, bases theology not on the facts of the divine revelation, but, on the facts of the religious life. This leads ultimately to a confusion of the two distinct disciplines of theology, the subject-matter of which is objective, and the science of religion, the subject-matter of which is subjective; with the effect of lowering the data of theology to the level of the aspirations and imaginings of man's own heart. Wherever this definition is found, either a subjective conception of theology, which reduces it to a branch of psychology, may be suspected; or else a historical conception of it, a conception of "Christian theology" as one of the many theologies of the world, parallel even if unspeakably truer than, the others with which it is classed and in conjunction with which it furnishes us with it full account of religion. When so conceived, it is natural to take a step further and permit the methodology of the science, as well as its idea, to be determined by its distinguishing element: thus theology, in contradiction to its very name, becomes Christocentric. No doubt "Christian theology," as a historical discipline, is Christocentric; it is by its doctrine of redemption that it is differentiated from all the other theologies that the world has known. But theology as a science is and must be theocentric. So soon as we firmly grasp it from the scientific point of view, we see that there can be but one science of God and of His relations to His universe, and we no longer seek a point of discrimination, but rather a center of development; and we quickly see that there can be but one center about which so comprehensive a subject-matter can be organized - the conception of God. He that hath seen Christ, has beyond doubt seen the Father; but it is one thing to make Christ the center of theology so far as He is one with God, and another thing to organize all theology around Him as the theanthropos and in His specifically theanthropic work.

IV. Not only, however, is our definition of theology thus set for us: we have also determined in advance our conception of its sources. We have already made use of the term "revelation," to designate the medium by which the facts concerning God and His relations to His creatures are brought before men's minds, and so made the subject-matter of a possible science. The word accurately describes the condition of all knowledge of God. If God be a person, it follows by stringent necessity, that He can be known only so far as He reveals or expresses Himself. And it is but the converse of this, that if there be no revelation, there can be no knowledge, and, of course, no systematized knowledge or science of God. Our reaching up to Him in thought and inference is possible only because He condescends to make Himself intelligible to us, to speak to us through work or word, to reveal Himself. We hazard nothing, therefore, in saying that, as the condition of all theology is a revealed God, so, without limitation, the sole source of theology is revelation.

In so speaking, however, we have no thought of doubting that God's revelation of Himself is "in divers manners." We have no desire to deny that He has never left man without witness of His eternal power and Godhead, or that He has multiplied the manifestations of Himself in nature and providence and grace, so that every generation has had abiding and unmistakable evidence that He is, that He is the good God, and that He is a God who marketh iniquity. Under the broad skirts of the term "revelation," every method of manifesting Himself which God uses in communicating knowledge of His being and attributes, may find shelter for itself - whether it be through those visible things of nature whereby His invisible things are clearly seen, or through the constitution of the human mind with its causal judgment indelibly stamped upon it, or through that voice of God that we call conscience, which proclaims His moral law within us, or through His providence in which He makes bare His arm for the government of the nations, or through the exercises of His grace, our experience under the tutelage of the Holy Ghost - or whether it be through the open visions of His prophets, the divinely-breathed pages of His written Word, the divine life of the Word Himself. How God reveals Himself - in what divers manners He makes Himself known to His creatures - is thus the subsequent question, by raising which we distribute the one source of theology, revelation, into the various methods of revelation, each of which brings us true knowledge of God, and all of which must be taken account of in building our knowledge into one all-comprehending system. It is the accepted method of theology to infer that the God that made the eye must Himself see; that the God who sovereignly distributes His favors in the secular world may be sovereign in grace too; that the heart that condemns itself but repeats the condemnation of the greater God; that the songs of joy in which the Christian's happy soul voices its sense of God's gratuitous mercy are valid evidence that God has really dealt graciously with it. It is with no reserve that we accept all these sources of knowledge of God - nature, providence, Christian experience - as true and valid sources, the well-authenticated data yielded by which are to be received by us as revelations of God, and as such to he placed alongside of the revelations in the written Word and wrought with them into one system. As a matter of fact, theologians have always so dealt with them; and doubtless they always will so deal with them.

But to perceive, as all must perceive, that every method by which (God manifests Himself, is, so far as this manifestation can be clearly interpreted, a source of knowledge of Him, and must, therefore, be taken account of in framing all our knowledge of Him into one organic whole, is far from allowing that there are no differences among these various manifestations - in the amount of revelation they give, the clearness of their message, the ease and certainty with which they may be interpreted, or the importance of the special truths which they are fitted to convey. Far rather is it a priori likely that if there are "divers manners" in which God has revealed Himself, He has not revealed precisely the same message through each; that these "divers manners" correspond also to divers messages of divers degrees of importance, delivered with divers degrees of clearness. And the mere fact that He has included in these "divers manners" a copious revelation in a written Word, delivered with an authenticating accompaniment of signs and miracles, proved by recorded prophecies with their recorded fulfillments, and pressed, with the greatest solemnity, upon the attention and consciences of men as the very Word of the Living God, who has by it made all the wisdom of men foolishness; nay, proclaimed as containing within itself the formulation of His truth, the proclamation of His law, the discovery of His plan of salvation: this mere fact, I say, would itself and prior to all comparison, raise an overwhelming presumption that all the others of "the divers manners" of God's revelation were insufficient for the purposes for which revelation is given, whether on account of defect in the amount of their communication or insufficiency of attestation or uncertainty of interpretation or fatal one-sidedness in the character of the revelation they are adapted to give.

We need not be surprised, therefore, that on actual examination, such imperfections are found undeniably to attach to all forms of what we may, for the sake of discrimination, speak of as mere manifestations of God; and that thus the revelation of God in His written Word - in which are included the only authentic records of the revelation of Him through the incarnate Word - is easily shown not only to be incomparably superior to all other manifestations of Him in the fullness, richness, and clearness of its communications, but also to contain the sole discovery of much that it is most important for the soul to know as to its state and destiny, and of much that is most precious in our whole body of theological knowledge. The superior lucidity of this revelation makes it the form of interpretation for what is revealed so much more darkly through the other methods of manifestation. The gloious character of the discoveries made in it throws all other manifestations into comparative shadow. The amazing fullness of its disclosures renders what they can tell us of little relative value. And its absolute completeness for the needs of man, taking up and reiteratingly repeating in the clearest of language all that can be wrung from their sometimes enigmatic indications, and then adding to this a vast body of still more momentous truth undiscoverable through them, all but supersedes their necessity. With the fullest recognition of the validity of all the knowledge of God and His ways with men, which can be obtained through the manifestations of His power and divinity in nature and history and grace; and the frankest allowance that the written Word is given, not to destroy the manifestations of God, but to fulfill them; the theologian must yet refuse to give these sources of knowledge a place alongside of the written Word, in any other sense than that he gladly admits that they, alike with it, but in unspeakably lower measure, do tell us of God. And nothing can be a clearer indication of a decadent theology or of a decaying faith, than a tendency to neglect the Word in favor of some (one, or of all of the lesser sources of theological truth, as fountains from which to draw our knowledge of divine things. This were to prefer the flickering rays of a taper to the blazing light of the sun; to elect to draw our water from a muddy run rather than to dip it from the broad bosom of the pure fountain itself.

Nevertheless, men have often sought to still the cravings of their souls with a purely natural theology; and there are men to-day who prefer to derive their knowledge of what God is and what He will do for man from an analysis of the implications of their own religious feelings: not staying to consider that nature, "red in tooth and claw with ravin," can but direct our eyes to the God of law, whose deadly letter kills; or that our feelings must needs point us to the God of our imperfect apprehensions or of our unsanctified desires - not to the God that is, so much as to the God that we would fain should be. The natural result of resting on the revelations of nature is despair; while the inevitable end of making our appeal to even the Christian heart is to make for ourselves refuges of lies in which there is neither truth nor safety. We may, indeed, admit that it is valid reasoning to infer from the nature of the Christian life what are the modes of God's activities towards His children: to see, for instance, in conviction of sin and the sudden peace of the new-born soul, God's hand in slaying that He may make alive, His almighty power in raising the spiritually dead. But how easy to overstep the limits of valid inference; and, forgetting that it is the body of Christian truth known and assimilated that determines the type of Christian experience, confuse in our inferences what is from man with what is from God, and condition and limit our theology by the undeveloped Christian thought of the man or his times. The interpretation of the data included in what we have learned to call "the Christian consciousness," whether of the individual or of the Church at large, is a process so delicate, so liable to error, so inevitably swayed to this side or that by the currents that flow up and down in the soul, that probably few satisfactory inferences could be drawn from it, had we not the norm of Christian experience and its dogmatic implications recorded for us in the perspicuous pages of the written Word. But even were we to suppose that the interpretation was easy and secure, and that we had before us, in an infallible formulation, all the implications of the religious experience of all the men who have ever known Christ, we have no reason to believe that the whole body of facts thus obtained would suffice to give us a complete theology. After all, we know in part and we feel in part; it is only when that which is perfect shall appear that we shall know or experience all that Christ has in store for us. With the fullest acceptance, therefore, of the data of the theology of the feelings, no less than of natural theology, when their results are validly obtained and sufficiently authenticated as trustworthy, as divinely revealed facts which must be wrought into our system, it, remains nevertheless true that we should be confined to a meager and doubtful theology were these data not confirmed, reinforced, and supplemented by the surer and fuller revelations of Scripture; and that the Holy Scriptures are the source of theology in not only a degree, but also a sense in which nothing else is.

There may be a theology without the Scriptures - a theology of nature, gathered by painful, and slow, and sometimes doubtful processes from what man sees around him in external nature and the course of history, and what he sees within him of nature and of grace. In like manner there may be and has been an astronomy of nature, gathered by man in his natural state without help from aught but his naked eyes, as he watched in the fields by night. But what is this astronomy of nature to the astronomy that has become possible through the wonderful appliances of our observatories? The Word of God is to theology as, but vastly more than, these instruments are to astronomy. It is the instrument which so far increases the possibilities of the science as to revolutionize it and to place it upon a height from which it can never more descend. What would be thought of the deluded man, who, discarding the new methods of research, should insist on acquiring all the astronomy which he would admit, from the unaided observation of his own myopic and astigmatic eyes? Much more deluded is he who, neglecting the instrument of God's Word written, would confine his admissions of theological truth to what he could discover from the broken lights that play upon external nature, and the faint gleams of a dying or even a slowly reviving light, which arise in his own sinful soul. Ah, no! The telescope first made a real science of astronomy possible: and the Scriptures form the only sufficing source of theology.

V. Under such a conception of its nature and sources, we are led to consider the place of Systematic Theology among the other theological disciplines as well as among the other sciences in general. Without encroaching upon the details of Theological Encyclopedia, we may adopt here the usual fourfold distribution of the theological disciplines into the Exegetical, the Historical, the Systematic, and the Practical, with only the correction of prefixing to them a fifth department of Apologetical Theology. The place of Systematic Theology in this distribution is determined by its relation to the preceding disciplines, of which it is the crown and head. Apologetical Theology prepares the way for all theology by establishing its necessary presuppositions without which no theology is possible - the existence and essential nature of God, the religious nature of man which enables him to receive a revelation from God, the possibility of a revelation and its actual realization in the Scriptures. It thus places the Scriptures in our hands for investigation and study. Exegetical Theology receives these inspired writings from the hands of Apologetics, and investigates their meaning; presenting us with a body of detailed and substantiated results, culminating in a series of organized systems of Biblical History, Biblical Ethics, Biblical Theology, and the like, which provide material for further use in the more advanced disciplines. Historical Theology investigates the progressive realization of Christianity in the lives, hearts, worship, and thought of men, issuing not only in a full account of the history of Christianity, but also in a body of facts which come into use in the more advanced disciplines, especially in the way of the manifold experiments that have been made during the ages in Christian organization, worship, living, and creed-building, as well as of the sifted results of the reasoned thinking and deep experience of Christian truth during the whole past. Systematic Theology does not fail to strike its roots deeply into this matter furnished by Historical Theology; it knows how to profit by the experience of all past generations in their efforts to understand and define, to systematize and defend revealed truth; and it thinks of nothing so little as lightly to discard the conquests of so many hard-fought fields. It therefore gladly utilizes all the material that Historical Theology brings it, accounting it, indeed, the very precipitate of the Christian consciousness of the past; but it does not use it crudely, or at first hand for itself, but accepts it as investigated, explained, and made available by the sister discipline of Historical Theology which alone can understand it or draw from it its true lessons. It certainly does not find in it, its chief or primary source, and its relation to Historical Theology is, in consequence, far less close than that in which it stands to Exegetical Theology which is its true and especial handmaid. The independence of Exegetical Theology is seen in the fact that it does its work wholly without thought or anxiety as to the use that is to be made of its results; and that it furnishes a vastly larger body of data than can be utilized by any one discipline. It provides a body of historical, ethical, liturgic, ecclesiastical facts, as well as a body of theological facts. But so far as its theological facts are concerned, it provides them chiefly that they may be used by Systematic Theology as material out of which to build its system.

This is not to forget the claims of Biblical Theology. It is rather to emphasize its value, and to afford occasion for explaining its true place in the encyclopedia, and its true relations on the one side to Exegetical Theology, and on the other to Systematics - a matter which appears to be even yet imperfectly understood in some quarters. Biblical Theology is not a section of Historical Theology, although it must be studied in a historical spirit, and has a historical face; it is rather the ripest fruit of Exegetics, and Exegetics has not performed its full task until its scattered results in the way of theological data are gathered up into a full and articulated system of Biblical Theology. It is to be hoped that the time will come when no commentary will be considered complete until the capstone is placed upon its fabric by closing chapters gathering up into systematized exhibits, the unsystematized results of the continuous exegesis of the text, in the spheres of history, ethics, theology, and the like. The task of Biblical Theology, in a word, is the task of coordinating the scattered results of continuous exegesis into a concatenated whole, whether with reference to a single book of Scripture or to a body of related books or to the whole Scriptural fabric. Its chief object is not to find differences of conception between the various writers, though some recent students of the subject seem to think this is so much their duty, that when they cannot find differences they make them. It is to reproduce the theological thought of each writer or group of writers in the form in which it lay in their own minds, so that we may be enabled to look at all their theological statements at their angle, and to understand all their deliverances as modified and conditioned by their own point of view. Its exegetical value lies just in this circumstance, that it is only when we have thus concatenated an author's theological statements into a whole, that we can be sure that we understand them as he understood them in detail. A light is inevitably thrown back from Biblical Theology upon the separate theological deliverances as they occur in the text, such as subtly colors them, and often, for the first time, gives them to us in their true setting, and thus enables us to guard against perverting them when we adapt them to our use. This is a noble function, and could students of Biblical Theology only firmly grasp it, once for all, as their task, it would prevent this important science from being brought into contempt through a tendency to exaggerate differences in form of statement into divergences of view, and so to force the deliverances of each book into a strange and unnatural combination, in the effort to vindicate a function for this discipline.

The relation of Biblical Theology to Systematic Theology is based on a true view of its function. Systematic Theology is not founded on the direct and primary results of the exegetical process; it is founded on the final and complete results of exegesis as exhibited in Biblical Theology. Not exegesis itself, then, but Biblical Theology, provides the material for Systematics. Biblical Theology is not, then, a rival of Systematics; it is not even a parallel product of the same body of facts, provided by exegesis; it is the basis and source of Systematics. Systematic Theology is not a concatenation of the scattered theological data furnished by the exegetic process; it is the combination of the already concatenated data given to it by Biblical Theology. It uses the individual data furnished by exegesis, in a word, not crudely, not independently for itself, but only after these data have been worked up into Biblical Theology and have received from it their final coloring and subtlest shades of meaning - in other words, only in their true sense, and after Exegetics has said its last word upon them. Just as we shall attain our finest and truest conception of the person and work of Christ, not by crudely trying to combine the scattered details of His life and teaching as given in our four Gospels into one patchwork life and account of His teaching; but far more rationally and far more successfully by first catching Matthew's full conception of Jesus, and then Mark's, and then Luke's, and then John's, and combining these four conceptions into one rounded whole: so we gain our truest Systematics not by at once working together the separate dogmatic statements in the Scriptures, but by combining them in their due order and proportion as they stand in the various theologies of the Scriptures. Thus we are enabled to view the future whole not only in its parts, but in the several combinations of the parts; and, looking at it from every side, to obtain a true conception of its solidity and strength, and to avoid all exaggeration or falsification of the details in giving them place in the completed structure. And thus we do not make our theology, according to our own pattern, as a mosaic, out of the fragments of the Biblical teaching; but rather look out from ourselves upon it as a great prospect, framed out of the mountains and plains of the theologies of the Scriptures, and strive to attain a point of view from which we can bring the whole landscape into our field of sight.

From this point of view, we find no difficulty in understanding the relation in which the several disciplines stand to one another, with respect to their contents. The material that Systematics draws from other than Biblical sources may be here left momentarily out of account. The actual contents of the theological results of the exegetic process, of Biblical Theology, and of Systematics, with this limitation, may be said to be the same. The immediate work of exegesis may be compared to the work of a recruiting officer: it draws out from the mass of mankind the men who are to constitute the army. Biblical Theology organizes these men into companies and regiments and corps, arranged in marching order and accoutered for service. Systematic Theology combines these companies and regiments and corps into an army - a single and unitary whole, determined by its own all-pervasive principle. It, too, is composed of men - the same men which were recruited by Exegetics; but it is composed of these men, not as individuals merely, but in their due relations to the other men of their companies and regiments and corps. The simile is far from a perfect one; but it may illustrate the mutual relations of the disciplines, and also, perhaps, suggest the historical element that attaches to Biblical Theology, and the element of all-inclusive systematization which is inseparable from Systematic Theology. It is just this element, determining the spirit and therefore the methods of Systematic Theology, which, along with its greater inclusiveness, discriminates it from all forms of Biblical Theology, the spirit of which is purely historical.

VI. The place that theology, as the scientific presentation of all the facts that are known concerning God and His relations, claims for itself within the circle of the sciences is an equally high one with that which it claims among the theological disciplines. Whether we consider the topics which it treats, in their dignity, their excellence, their grandeur; or the certainty with which its data can be determined; or the completeness with which its principles have been ascertained and its details classified; or the usefulness and importance of its discoveries: it is as far out of all comparison above all other sciences as the eternal health and destiny of the soul are of more value than this fleeting life in this world. It is not so above them, however, as not to be also a constituent member of the closely interrelated and mutually interacting organism of the sciences. There is no one of them all which is not, in some measure, touched and affected by it, or which is not in some measure included in it. As all nature, whether mental or material, may be conceived of as only the mode in which God manifests Himself, every science which investigates nature and ascertains its laws is occupied with the discovery of the modes of the divine action, and as such might be considered a branch of theology. And, on the other hand, as all nature, whether mental or material, owes its existence to God, every science which investigates nature and ascertains its laws, depends for its foundation upon that science which would make known what God is and what the relations are in which He stands to the work of His hands and in which they stand to Him; and must borrow from it those conceptions through which alone the material with which it deals can find its explanation or receive its proper significance.

Theology, thus, enters into the structure of every other science. Its closest relations are, no doubt, with the highest of the other sciences, ethics. Any discussion of our duty to God must rest on a knowledge of our relation to Him; and much of our duty to man is undiscoverable, save through knowledge of our common relation to the one God and Father of all, and one Lord the Redeemer of all, and one Spirit the Sanctifier of all - all of which it is the function of theology to supply. This fact is, of course, not fatal to the existence of a natural ethics; but an ethics independent of theological conceptions would be a meager thing indeed, while the theology of the Scriptural revelation for the first time affords a basis for ethical investigation at once broad enough and sure enough to raise that science to its true dignity. Accordingly, a purely natural ethics has always been an incomplete ethics even relatively to the less developed forms of ethics resting on a revealed basis. A careful student has recently told us, for example, that:

Between the ethics of pagan antiquity and that of the Old Testament there is a difference of the widest and most radical kind. There is no trace of gradual transition from the one to the other. That difference is first seen in the pagan conception of God and of man's ethical relation to Him. . . . It was essentially a morality between man and man. For where man's relation to a personal God is not apprehended, anything approaching an universal ethics is impossible, and only individual virtues can be manifested. Ethics was thus deprived of its unity. . . . Morality became but a catalogue of separate virtues, and was deprived of that penetrating bond of union which it receives when the realm of human personalities is bound by innumerable links to the great central personality, God.4

We must not, however, on the ground of this intimacy of relation, confound the two sciences of theology and ethics. Something like it in kind and approaching it in degree exists between theology and every other science, no one of which is so independent of it as not to touch and be touched by it. Something of theology is implicated in all metaphysics and physics alike. It alone can determine the origin of either matter or mind, or of the mystic powers that have been granted to them.5 It alone can explain the nature of second causes and set the boundaries to their efficiency. It alone is competent to declare the meaning of the ineradicable persuasion of the human mind that its reason is right reason, its processes trustworthy, its intuitions true. All science without God is mutilated science, and no account of a single branch of knowledge can ever be complete until it is pushed back to find its completion and ground in Him. In the eloquent words of Dr. Pusey:

God alone is in Himself, and is the Cause and Upholder of everything to which He has given being. Every faculty of the mind is some reflection of His; every truth has its being from Him; every law of nature has the impress of His hand; everything beautiful has caught its light from His eternal beauty; every principle of goodness has its foundation in His attributes. . . . Without Him, in the region of thought, everything is dead; as without Him everything which is, would at once cease to be. All things must speak of God, refer to God, or they are atheistic. History, without God, is a chaos without design, or end, or aim. Political Economy, without God, would be a selfish teaching about the acquisition of wealth, making the larger portion of mankind animate machines for its production; Physics, without God, would be but a dull inquiry into certain meaningless phenomena; Ethics, without God, would be a varying rule, without principle, or substance, or centre, or regulating hand; Metaphysics, without God, would make man his own temporary god, to be resolved, after his brief hour here, into the nothingness out of which he proceeded.6

It is thus as true of sciences as it is of creatures, that in Him they all live and move and have their being. The science of Him and His relations is the necessary ground of all science. All speculation takes us back to Him; all inquiry presupposes Him; and every phase of science consciously or unconsciously rests at every step on the science that makes Him known. Theology, thus, as the science which treats of God, lies at the root of all sciences. It is true enough that each could exist without it, in a sense and in some degree; but through it alone can any one of them reach its true dignity. Herein we see not only the proof of its greatness, but also the assurance of its permanence. "What so permeates all sections and subjects of human thought, has a deep root in human nature and an immense hold upon it. What so possesses man's mind that he cannot think at all without thinking of it, is so bound up with the very being of intelligence that ere it can perish, intellect must cease to be."7

It is only in theology, therefore, that the other sciences find their completion. Theology, formally speaking, is accordingly the apex of the pyramid of the sciences by which the structure is perfected. Its relation to the other sciences is, thus, in this broader sphere quite analogous to its relation to the other branches of the theological encyclopedia in that narrower sphere. All other sciences are subsidiary to it, and it builds its fabric out of material supplied by them. Theology is the science which deals with the facts concerning God and His relations with the universe. Such facts include all the facts of nature and history: and it is the very function of the several sciences to supply these facts in scientific, that is, thoroughly comprehended form. Scientific theology thus stands at the head of the sciences as well as at the head of the theological disciplines. The several sciences deal each with its own material in an independent spirit and supply a multitude of results not immediately useful to theology. But so far as their results stand related to questions with which theology deals, they exist only to serve her. Dr. Flint well says:

The relevant data of natural theology are all the works of God in nature and providence, all the phenomena and laws of matter, mind, and history, - and these can only be thoroughly ascertained by the special sciences. The surest and most adequate knowledge of them is knowledge in the form called scientific, and therefore in this form the theologian must seek to know them. The sciences which deal with nature, mind, and history hold the same position towards natural theology which the disciplines that treat of the composition, genuineness, authenticity, text, development, etc., of the Scriptures do towards Biblical theology. They inform us, as it were, what is the true text and literal interpretation of the book of creation. Their conclusions are the premisses, or at least the data, of the scientific natural theologian. All reasonings of his which disregard these data are ipso facto condemned. A conflict between the results of these sciences and the findings of natural theology is inconceivable. It would be a conflict between the data and conclusions of natural theology, and so equivalent for natural theology to self-contradiction. . . . The religion of the Bible . . . is but one of a multitude of religions which have left traces of themselves in documents, monuments, rites, creeds, customs, institutions, individual lives, social changes, etc.; and there is a theological discipline - comparative theology - which undertakes to disclose the spirit, delineate the character, trace the development, and exhibit the relations of all religions with the utmost attainable exactitude. Obviously the mass of data which this science has to collect, sift, and interpret is enormous. They can only be brought to light and set in their natural relationships by the labours of hosts of specialists of all kinds. . . . Christian dogmatics has to make use of the results of natural theology, Biblical theology, and comparative theology, and to raise them to a higher stage by a comprehensive synthesis which connects them with the person and work of Christ, as of Him in whom all spiritual truth is comprehended and all spiritual wants supplied.8

The essence of the matter is here admirably set forth, though as connected with some points of view which may require modification. It would seem to be a mistake, for example, to conceive of scientific theology as the immediate and direct synthesis of the three sources - Natural Theology, Biblical Theology, and Comparative Theology - so that it would be considered the product in like degree or even in similar manner of the three. All three furnish data for the completed structure; but if what has been said in an earlier connection has any validity, Natural and Comparative Theology should stand in a somewhat different relation to Scientific Theology from that which Biblical Theology occupies - a relation not less organic indeed, but certainly less direct. The true representation seems to be that Scientific Theology is related to the natural and historical sciences, not immediately and independently for itself, but only indirectly, that is, through the mediation of the preliminary theological discipline of Apologetics. The work of Apologetics in its three branches of Philosophical, Psychological, and Historical, results not only in presenting the Bible to the theological student, but also in presenting to him God, Religion, and Christianity. And in so doing, it supplies him with the total material of Natural and Comparative Theology as well as with the foundation on which exegesis is to raise the structure of Biblical Theology. The materials thus provided Scientific Theology utilizes, just as it utilizes the results of exegesis through Biblical Theology, and the results of the age-long life of men under Christianity through Historical Theology. Scientific Theology rests, therefore, most directly on the results of Biblical exegesis as provided in Biblical Theology; but avails itself likewise of all the material furnished by all the preceding disciplines, and, in the results of Apologetics as found in Natural Theology and Comparative Theology, of all the data bearing on its problems, supplied by all the sciences. But it does not make its direct appeal crudely and independently to these sciences, any more than to exegesis and Christian history, but as it receives the one set of results from the hands of Exegetics and Histories, so it receives the others from the hand of Apologetics.9 Systematic Theology is fundamentally one of the theological disciplines, and bears immediate relation only to its sister disciplines; it is only through them that it reaches further out and sets its roots in more remote sources of information.

VII. The interpretation of a written document, intended to convey a plain message, is infinitely easier than the interpretation of the teaching embodied in facts themselves. It is therefore that systematic treatises on the several sciences are written. Theology has, therefore, an immense advantage over all other sciences, inasmuch as it is more an inductive study of facts conveyed in a written revelation, than an inductive study of facts as conveyed in life. It was, consequently, the first-born of the sciences. It was the first to reach relative completeness. And it is to-day in a state far nearer perfection than any other science. This is not, however, to deny that it is a progressive science. In exactly the same sense in which any other science is progressive, this is progressive. It is not meant that new revelations are to be expected of truth which has not been before within the reach of man. There is a vast difference between the progress of a science and increase in its material. All the facts of psychology, for instance, have been in existence so long as mind itself has existed; and the progress of this science has been dependent on the progressive discovery, understanding, and systematization of these facts. All the facts of theology have, in like manner, been within the reach of man for nearly two millenniums; and the progress of theology is dependent on men's progress in gathering, defining, mentally assimilating, and organizing these facts into a correlated system. So long as revelation was not completed, the progressive character of theology was secured by the progress in revelation itself. And since the close of the canon of Scripture, the intellectual realization and definition of the doctrines revealed in it, in relation to one another, have been, as a mere matter of fact, a slow but ever advancing process.

The affirmation that theology has been a progressive science is no more, then, than to assert that it is a science that has had a history - and a history which can be and should be genetically traced and presented. First, the objective side of Christian truth was developed: pressed on the one side by the crass monotheism of the Jews and on the other by the coarse polytheism of the heathen, and urged on by its own internal need of comprehending the sources of its life, Christian theology first searched the Scriptures that it might understand the nature and modes of existence of its God and the person of its divine Redeemer. Then, more and more conscious of itself, it more and more fully wrought out from those same Scriptures a guarded expression of the subjective side of its faith; until through throes and conflicts it has built up the system which we all inherit. Thus the body of Christian truth has come down to us in the form of an organic growth; and we can conceive of the completed structure as the ripened fruit of the ages, as truly as we can think of it as the perfected result of the exegetical discipline. As it has come into our possession by this historic process, there is no reason that we can assign why it should not continue to make for itself a history. We do not expect the history of theology to close in our own day. However nearly completed our realization of the body of truth may seem to us to be; however certain it is that the great outlines are already securely laid and most of the details soundly discovered and arranged; no one will assert that every detail is as yet perfected, and we are all living in the confidence so admirably expressed by old John Robinson, "that God hath more truth yet to break forth from His holy Word." Just because God gives us the truth in single threads which we must weave into the reticulated texture, all the threads are always within our reach, but the finished texture is ever and will ever continue to be before us until we dare affirm that there is no truth in the Word which we have not perfectly apprehended, and no relation of these truths as revealed which we have not perfectly understood, and no possibility in clearness of presentation which we have not attained.

The conditions of progress in theology are clearly discernible from its nature as a science. The progressive men in any science are the men who stand firmly on the basis of the already ascertained truth. The condition of progress in building the structures of those great cathedrals whose splendid piles glorify the history of art in the Middle Ages, was that each succeeding generation should build upon the foundations laid by its predecessor. If each architect had begun by destroying what had been accomplished by his forerunners, no cathedral would ever have been raised.10 The railroad is pushed across the continent by the simple process of laying each rail at the end of the line already laid. The prerequisite of all progress is a clear discrimination which as frankly accepts the limitations set by the truth already discovered, as it rejects the false and bad. Construction is not destruction; neither is it the outcome of destruction. There are abuses no doubt to be reformed; errors to correct; falsehoods to cut away. But the history of progress in every science and no less in theology, is a story of impulses given, corrected, and assimilated. And when they have been once corrected and assimilated, these truths are to remain accepted. It is then time for another impulse, and the condition of all further progress is to place ourselves in this well-marked line of growth. Astronomy, for example, has had such a history; and there are now some indisputable truths in astronomy, as, for instance, the rotundity of the earth and the central place of the sun in our system. I do not say that these truths are undisputed; probably nothing is any more undisputed in astronomy, or any other science, than in theology. At all events he who wishes, may read the elaborate arguments of the "Zetetic" philosophers, as they love to call themselves, who in this year of grace are striving to prove that the earth is flat and occupies the center of our system. Quite in the same spirit, there are "Zetetic" theologians who strive with similar zeal and acuteness to overturn the established basal truths of theology - which, however, can nevermore be shaken; and we should give about as much ear to them in the one science as in the other. It is utter folly to suppose that progress can be made otherwise than by placing ourselves in the line of progress; and if the temple of God's truth is ever to be completely built, we must not spend our efforts in digging at the foundations which have been securely laid in the distant past, but must rather give our best efforts to rounding the arches, carving the capitals, and fitting in the fretted roof. What if it is not ours to lay foundations? Let us rejoice that that work has been done! Happy are we if our God will permit us to bring a single capstone into place. This fabric is not a house of cards to be built and blown down again a hundred times a day, as the amusement of our idle hours: it is a miracle of art to which all ages and lands bring their varied tribute. The subtle Greek laid the foundations; the law-loving Roman raised high the walls; and all the perspicuity of France and ideality of Germany and systematization of Holland and deep sobriety of Britain have been expended in perfecting the structure; and so it grows.

We have heard much in these last days of the phrase "progressive orthodoxy," and in somewhat strange connections. Nevertheless, the phrase itself is not an inapt description of the building of this theological house. Let us assert that the history of theology has been and ever must be a progressive orthodoxy. But let us equally loudly assert that progressive orthodoxy and retrogressive heterodoxy can scarcely be convertible terms. Progressive orthodoxy implies that first of all we are orthodox, and secondly that we are progressively orthodox, that is, that we are ever growing more and more orthodox as more and more truth is being established. This has been and must be the history of the advance of every science, and not less, among them, of the science of theology. Justin Martyr, champion of the orthodoxy of his day, held a theory of the intertrinitarian relationship which became heterodoxy after the Council of Nicea; the ever struggling Christologies of the earlier ages were forever set aside by the Chalcedon Fathers; Augustine determined for all time the doctrine of grace, Anselm the doctrine of the atonement, Luther the doctrine of forensic justification. In any progressive science, the amount of departure from accepted truth which is possible to the sound thinker becomes thus ever less and less, in proportion as investigation and study result in the progressive establishment of an ever increasing number of facts. The physician who would bring back to-day the medicine of Galen would be no more mad than the theologian who would revive the theology of Clement of Alexandria. Both were men of light and leading in their time; but their time is past, and it is the privilege of the child of to-day to know a sounder physic and a sounder theology than the giants of that far past yesterday could attain. It is of the very essence of our position at the end of the ages that we are ever more and more hedged around with ascertained facts, the discovery and establishment of which constitute the very essence of progress. Progress brings increasing limitation, just because it brings increasing knowledge. And as the orthodox man is he that teaches no other doctrine than that which has been established as true, the progressively orthodox man is he who is quick to perceive, admit, and condition all his reasoning by all the truth down to the latest, which has been established as true.

VIII. When we speak of progress our eyes are set upon a goal. And in calling theology a progressive science we unavoidably raise the inquiry, what the end and purpose is towards an ever increasing fitness to secure which it is continually growing. Its own completeness and perfecting as a science - as a department of knowledge - is naturally the proximate goal towards which every science tends. And when we consider the surpassing glory of the subject-matter with which theology deals, it would appear that if ever science existed for its own sake, this might surely be true of this science. The truths concerning God and His relations are, above all comparison, in themselves the most worthy of all truths of study and examination. Yet we must vindicate a further goal for the advance of theology and thus contend for it that it is an eminently practical science. The contemplation and exhibition of Christianity as truth, is far from the end of the matter. This truth is specially communicated by God for a purpose, for which it is admirably adapted. That purpose is to save and sanctify the soul. And the discovery, study, and systematization of the truth is in order that, firmly grasping it and thoroughly comprehending it in all its reciprocal relations, we may be able to make the most efficient use of it for its holy purpose. Well worth our most laborious study, then, as it is, for its own sake as mere truth, it becomes not only absorbingly interesting, but inexpressibly precious to us when we bear in mind that the truth with which we thus deal constitutes, as a whole, the engrafted Word that is able to save our souls. The task of thoroughly exploring the pages of revelation, soundly gathering from them their treasures of theological teaching, and carefully fitting these into their due places in a system whereby they may be preserved from misunderstanding, perversion, and misuse, and given a new power to convince the understanding, move the heart, and quicken the will, becomes thus a holy duty to our own and our brothers' souls as well as an eager pleasure of our intellectual nature.

That the knowledge of the truth is an essential prerequisite to the production of those graces and the building up of those elements of a sanctified character for the production of which each truth is especially adapted, probably few will deny: but surely it is equally true that the clearer, fuller, and more discriminating this knowledge is, the more certainly and richly will it produce its appropriate effect; and in this is found a most complete vindication of the duty of systematizing the separate elements of truth into a single soundly concatenated whole, by which the essential nature of each is made as clear as it can be made to human apprehension. It is not a matter of indifference, then, how we apprehend and systematize this truth. On the contrary, if we misconceive it in its parts or in its relations, not only do our views of truth become confused and erroneous, but also our religious life becomes dwarfed or contorted. The character of our religion is, in a word, determined by the character of our theology: and thus the task of the systematic theologian is to see that the relations in which the separate truths actually stand are rightly conceived, in order that they may exert their rightful influence on the development of the religious life. As no truth is so insignificant as to have no place in the development of our religious life, so no truth is so unimportant that we dare neglect it or deal deceitfully with it in adjusting it into our system. We are smitten with a deadly fear on the one side, lest by fitting them into a system of our own devising, we cut from them just the angles by which they were intended to lay hold of the hearts of men: but on the other side, we are filled with a holy confidence that, by allowing them to frame themselves into their own system as indicated by their own natures - as the stones in Solomon's temple were cut each for its place - we shall make each available for all men, for just the place in the saving process for which it was divinely framed and divinely given.

These theoretical considerations are greatly strengthened by the historical fact, that throughout all the ages every advance in the scientific statement of theological truth has been made in response to a practical demand, and has been made in a distinctly practical interest. We wholly misconceive the facts if we imagine that the development of systematic theology has been the work of cold, scholastic recluses, intent only upon intellectual subtleties. It has been the work of the best heart of the whole Church driving on and utilizing in its practical interests, the best brain. The true state of the case could not be better expressed than it is by Professor Auguste Sabatier, when he tells us that:

The promulgation of each dogma has been imposed on the Church by some practical necessity. It has always been to bring to an end some theological controversy which was in danger of provoking a schism, to respond to attacks or accusations which it would have been dangerous to permit to acquire credit, that the Church has moved in a dogmatic way. . . . Nothing is more mistaken than to represent the Fathers of the Councils, or the members of the Synods as theoricians, or even as professional theologians, brought together in conference by speculative zeal alone, in order to resolve metaphysical enigmas. They were men of action, not of speculation; courageous priests and pastors who understood their mission, like soldiers in open battle, and whose first care was to save their Church, its life, its unity, its honor - ready to die for it as one dies for his country.11

In quite similar manner one of the latest critics (M. Pannier) of Calvin's doctrinal work feels moved to bear his testimony to the practical purpose which ruled over the development of his system. He says:

In the midst, as at the outset of his work, it was the practical preoccupations of living faith which guided him, and never a vain desire for pure speculation. If this practical need led [in the successive editions of the "Institutes"] to some new theories, to many fuller expositions of principles, this was not only because he now desired his book to help students of theology to interpret Scripture better - it was because, with his systematic genius, Calvin understood all that which, from the point of view of their application, ideas gain severally in force by forming a complete whole around one master thought.12

Wrought out thus in response to practical needs, the ever growing body of scientific theology has worked its way among men chiefly by virtue of its ever increasing power of meeting their spiritual requirements. The story of the victory of Augustinianism in Southern Gaul, as brought out by Professor Arnold of Breslau, is only a typical instance of what each age has experienced in its own way, and with its own theological advances. He warns us that the victory of Augustinianism is not to be accounted for by the learning or dialectic gifts of Augustine, nor by the vigorous propaganda kept up in Gaul by the African refugees, nor by the influence of Caesarius, deservedly great as that was, nor by the pressure brought to bear from Rome: but rather by the fullness of its provision for the needs of the soul.

These were better met by Christianity than by heathenism; by Catholicism than by Arianism; by the enthusiasm of asceticism than by the lukewarm worldliness of the old opponents of monachism: and they found more strength and consolation in the fundamental Augustinian conception of divine grace, than in the paltry mechanism of the synergistic moralism.13

Here is the philosophy, sub specie temporis, of the advance of doctrinal development; and it all turns on the progressively growing fitness of the system of doctrine to produce its practical fruits.14

It may possibly be thought, however, that these lessons are ill-applied to systematic theology properly so called: that it may be allowed indeed that the separate truths of religion make themselves felt in the life of men, but scarcely that the systematic knowledge of them is of any value for the religious life. Surely, however, we may very easily fall into error here. We do not possess the separate truths of religion in the abstract: we possess them only in their relations, and we do not properly know any one of them - nor can it have its full effect on our life - except as we know it in its relations to other truths, that is, as systematized. What we do not know, in this sense, systematically, we rob of half its power on our conduct; unless, indeed, we are prepared to argue that a truth has effect on us in proportion as it is unknown, rather than in proportion as it is known. To which may be added that when we do not know a body of doctrine systematically, we are sure to misconceive the nature of more or fewer of its separate elements; and to fancy, in the words of Dr. Charles Hodge, "that that is true which a more systematic knowledge would show us to be false," so that "our religious belief and therefore our religious life would become deformed and misshapen." Let us once more, however, strengthen our theoretical opinion by testimony: and for this let us appeal to the witness of a recent French writer who supports his own judgment by that of several of the best informed students of current French Protestantism.15 Amid much external activity of Christian work, M. Arnaud tells us, no one would dare say that the life lived with Christ in God is flourishing in equal measure: and his conclusion is that, "in order to be a strong and living Christian, it does not suffice to submit our heart and will to the gospel: we must submit also our mind and our reason." "The doctrines of Christianity," he adds:

The doctrines of Christianity have just as much right to be believed as its duties have to be practised, and it is not permissible to accept these and reject those. In neglecting to inquire with care into the Biblical verities, and to assimilate them by reflection, the Christian loses part of his virtue, the preacher part of his force; both build their house on the sand or begin at the top; they deprive themselves of the precious lights which can illuminate and strengthen their faith, and fortify them against the frivolous or learned unbelief as well as against the aberrations of false individualism, that are so diffused in our day.

In support of this judgment he quotes striking passages, among others, from Messrs. F. Bonifas and Ch. Bois. The former says:16

What strikes me to-day is the incomplete and fragmentary character of our faith: the lack of precision in our Christian conceptions; a certain ignorance of the wonderful things which God has done for us and which He has revealed to us for the salvation and nourishment of our souls. I discover the traces of this ignorance in our preaching as well as in our daily life. And here is one of the causes of the feebleness of spiritual life in the bosom of our flocks and among ourselves. To these fluid Christian convictions, there necessarily corresponds a lowered Christian life.

Mr. Bois similarly says:17

There does not at present exist among us a strongly concatenated body of doctrine, possessing the conscience and determining the will. We have convictions, no doubt, and even strong and active convictions, but they are, if I may so speak, isolated and merely juxtaposed in the mind, without any deep bond uniting them into an organism. . . . Upon several fundamental points, even among believers, there is a vagueness, an indetermination, which leave access open to every fluctuation and to the most unexpected mixtures of belief. Contradictory elements often live together and struggle with one another, even in the most positively convinced, without their suspecting the enmity of the guests they have received into their thought. It is astonishing to observe the strange amalgams which spring up and acclimate themselves in the minds of the young theological generations, which have been long deprived of the strong discipline of the past. This incoherence of ideas produces weakness and danger elsewhere also, besides in the sphere of doctrine. It is impossible but that spiritual life and practical activity should sustain also serious damage from this intellectual anarchy.

Cannot we see in the state of French Protestantism as depicted in these extracts, a warning to ourselves, among whom we may observe the beginnings of the same doctrinal anarchy? And shall we not, at least, learn this much: that doctrine is in order to life, and that the study of doctrine must be prosecuted in a spirit which would see its end in the correction and edification of life? Shall we not, as students of doctrine, listen devoutly to the words of one of the richest writers on experimental religion of our generation,18 when he tells us that

Living knowledge of our living Lord, and of our need of Him, and of our relations to Him for peace, life, testimony, service, consistency, is given by the Holy Comforter alone. But it is given by Him in the great rule of His dealings with man, only through the channel of doctrine, of revealed, recorded, authenticated truth concerning the Lord of life.

And shall we not catch the meaning of the illustrations which he adds:

Does the happy soul, happy because brought to the "confidence of self-despair," and to a sight of the foundation of all peace, find itself saying, "O Lamb of God, I come," and know that it falls, never to be cast out, into the embraces of ever-living love? Every element in that profound experience of restful joy has to do with doctrine, applied by the Spirit. "O Lamb of God" would be a meaningless incantation were it not for the precious and most definite doctrine of the sacrifice of propitiation and peace. That I may "come just as I am" is a matter of pure Divine information. My emotions, my deepest and most awful convictions, without such information, say the opposite; my instinct is to cry, "Depart, for I am a sinful man." The blessed doctrine, not my reveries, says, "Nay; He was wounded for thy transgressions; come unto Him." . . . And when [one] ... draws towards the journey's end, and exchanges the trials of the pilgrimage for the last trial, "the river that hath no bridge," why does he address himself in peace to die, this man who has been taught the evil of his own heart and the holiness of the Judge of all? It is because of doctrine. He knows the covenant of peace, and the Mediator of it. He knows, and he knows it through revealed doctrine only, that to depart is to be with Christ, and is far better. He knows that the sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But he knows, with the same certainty, that God giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ; and that His sheep shall never perish; and that He will raise up again at the last day him that has come to God through Him. All this is doctrine. It is made to live in the man by the Holy Ghost given to him. But it is in itself creed, not life. It is revealed information.

If such be the value and use of doctrine, the systematic theologian is preeminently a preacher of the gospel; and the end of his work is obviously not merely the logical arrangement of the truths which come under his hand, but the moving of men, through their power, to love God with all their hearts and their neighbors as themselves; to choose their portion with the Saviour of their souls; to find and hold Him precious; and to recognize and yield to the sweet influences of the Holy Spirit whom He has sent. With such truth as this he will not dare to deal in a cold and merely scientific spirit, but will justly and necessarily permit its preciousness and its practical destination to determine the spirit in which he handles it, and to awaken the reverential love with which alone he should investigate its reciprocal relations. For this he needs to be suffused at all times with a sense of the unspeakable worth of the revelation which lies before him as the source of his material, and with the personal bearings of its separate truths on his own heart and life; he needs to have had and to be having a full, rich, and deep religious experience of the great doctrines with which he deals; he needs to be living close to his God, to be resting always on the bosom of his Redeemer, to be filled at all times with the manifest influences of the Holy Spirit. The student of systematic theology needs a very sensitive religious nature, a most thoroughly consecrated heart, and an outpouring of the Holy Ghost upon him, such as will fill him with that spiritual discernment, without which all native intellect is in vain. He needs to be not merely a student, not merely a thinker, not merely a systematizer, not merely a teacher - he needs to be like the beloved disciple himself in the highest, truest, and holiest sense, a divine.

Endnotes:

1. Reprinted from The Presbyterian and Reformed Review, vii. 1896, pp. 243-271.

2. Professor D. W. Simon, D.D., "The Nature and Scope of Systematic Theology," in Bibliotheca Sacra, li. 1894, p. 587.

3. Loc. cit., p. 592.

4. W. S. Bruce, "The Ethics of the Old Testament," 1895, pp. 12-14.

5. Cf. the ground-texts which Professor Laidlaw has placed at the head of the first division of his "The Bible Doctrine of Man," 1895: "The truth concerning the soul can only be established by the word of God." - Plato, "Timæus," 72 D. "How can the knowledge of the substance of the rational soul be sought or had from philosophy? It must surely be derived from the same divine inspiration from which the substance of the soul first emanated." - Bacon, "De Augmentis Scientiarum," lib. iv. cap. iii. § 3.

6. E. B. Pusey, "Collegiate and Professorial Teaching and Discipline," Oxford: Parker, 1854, pp. 215, 216.

7. A. M. Fairbairn, "Theology as an Academic Discipline," in The Contemporary Review, li. 1887, p. 202.

8. Article "Theology," in the "Encyclopmdia Britannica," ninth edition, xxiii. 1888, pp. 264 f.

9. It may be useful to seek to give a rough graphic representation of the relations of Systematic Theology as thus far outlined:

10. "Commend me," says Coleridge, "to the Irish architect who took out the foundation stone to repair the roof" ("Anima Poetæ," 1895, p. 139). Such architects seem to be rather numerous in the sphere of theology.

11. A. Sabatier, "Esquisse d'une philosophie de la religion," 1897, p. 306; cf. "The Vitality of Christian Dogmas," London, 1898, pp. 31-33.

12. Jacques Pannier, "Le Temoignage du Saint-Esprit," 1893, p. 79.

13. C. F. Arnold, "Caesarius von Arelate," 1894, p. 343.

14. It is only another way of saying this to say with Professor W. M. Ramsay, when speaking of another of the great controversies (The Expositor, January, 1896 (Fifth Series, iii.], p. 52): "Difficult, however, as it is to appreciate the real character of the Arian controversy as a question of social life, on the whole we gather, I think, that the progressive tendencies were on the side of Basil, and acquiescence in the existing standard of morality characterized the Arian point of view. The 'Orthodox' Church was still the champion of higher aspirations, and Basil, however harsh he was to all who differed from him, was an ennobling and upward-struggling force in the life of his time."

15. Arnaud, "Manuel de dogmatique," 1890, p. ix.

16. "De la valeur religieuse des doctrines chrétiennes," p. 14.

17. Revue theologique de Montauban, 13e Année, p. 14.

18. Principal H. C. G. Moule, in his paper entitled "On the Relations Between Doctrine and Life," printed in "The Church and her Doctrine" (New York: The Christian Literature Co., 1892), pp. 185-188.

The Task and Method of Systematic Theology

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Reprinted from The American Journal of Theology, xiv. 1910, pp. 192-205.

By "Systematic Theology" is meant that department or section of theological science which is concerned with setting forth systematically, that is to say, as a concatenated whole, what is known concerning God. Other departments or sections of theological science undertake other tasks. Whether such a being as God exists needs to be ascertained, and if such a being exists, whether He is knowable; whether such creatures as men are capable of knowing Him, and, if so, what sources of information concerning Him are accessible. This is the task of apologetical theology. These matters being determined, it is necessary to draw out from the sources of information concerning God which are accessible to us, all that can be known of God. This is the task of exegetical theology. A critical survey of previous attempts to draw from the sources of information concerning God what may be known of God, with an estimate of the results of these attempts and of their testing in life, is next incumbent on us. This is the task of historical theology. Finally we must inquire into the use of this knowledge of God and the ways in which it may be best applied to human needs. This is the task of practical theology. Among these various departments or sections of theological science there is obviously place for, or rather there is positively demanded, yet another, the task of which is to set forth in systematic formulation the results of the investigations of exegetical theology, clarified and enforced by the investigations of historical theology, which are to be applied by practical theology to the needs of man. Here the warrant of systematic theology, its task, and its encyclopedic place are at once exhibited. It is the business of systematic theology to take the knowledge of God supplied to it by apologetical, exegetical, and historical theology, scrutinize it with a view to discovering the inner relations of its several elements, and set it forth in a systematic presentation, that is to say, as an organic whole, so that it may be grasped and held in its entirety, in the due relation of its parts to one another and to the whole, and with a just distribution of emphasis among the several items of knowledge which combine to make up the totality of our knowledge of God.

It is clear at once that "systematic theology" forms the central, or perhaps we may better say the culminating, department of theological science. It is the goal to which apologetical, exegetical, and historical theology lead up; and it provides the matter which practical theology employs. What is most important in the knowledge of God - which is what theology is - is, of course, just the knowledge of God; and that is what systematic theology sets forth. Apologetical theology puts us in the way of obtaining knowledge of God. Exegetical theology gives us this knowledge in its disjecta membra. Historical theology makes us aware how it has been apprehended and transmuted into life. Practical theology teaches us how to propagate it in the world. It is systematic theology which spreads it before us in the form most accessible to our modes of conception, pours it, so to speak, into the molds of our minds, and makes it our assured possession that we may thoroughly understand and utilize it. There is nothing strange, therefore, in the common manner of speech by which systematic theology absorbs into itself all theology. In point of fact, theology, as the science of God, comes to itself only in systematic theology; and if we set systematic theology over against other theological disciplines as a separable department of theological science, this is not that we divide the knowledge of God up among these departments, retaining only some of it - perhaps a small or a relatively unimportant portion - for systematic theology; but only that we trace the process by which the knowledge of God is ascertained, clarified, and ordered, up through the several stages of the dealing of the human mind with it until at last, in systematic theology, it stands before our eyes in complete formulation.

The choice of the term "systematic theology" to designate this department of theological science has been made the occasion of some criticism, and its employment has been accornpanied by some abuse. It is, no doubt, capable of being misunderstood and misused, as what term is not? It ought to be unnecessary to explain that its employment is not intended to imply that other departments of theological science are prosecuted in an unsystematic manner, that is to say, in a disorderly way and to no safe results. Nor ought it to be necessary to protest against advantage being taken of the breadth of the term "systematic," in its popular usage, to subsume under it a series of incongruous disciplines which have nothing in common except that they are all systematically pursued. What the term naturally designates is that department of theological science in which the knowledge of God is presented as a concatenated system of truth; and it is not merely the natural but the perfectly explicit and probably the best designation of this department of theological science. At all events none of its synonyms which have from time to time been in use-such as theoretical, thetical, methodical, scholastic, didactic, dogmatic theology - seems to possess any advantage over it.

The most commonly employed of these synonyms, since its introduction by Lucas Friedrich Reinhard in his "Synopsis theologicae dogmaticae," 1660, has been "dogmatic theology." This designation differs from "systematic theology" by laying stress upon the authority which attaches to the several doctrines brought together in the presentation, rather than upon the presentation of them in a system. A dogma is, briefly, an established truth, authoritative and not to be disputed. The ground of its authoritativeness is indifferent to the term itself, and will vary with the point of view of the dogmatician. The Romanist will find it in the decrees of the Church, by which the several dogmas are established. The Protestant will find it in the declarations of Scripture: "Verbum Dei," say the Smalkald Articles, "condit articulos fidei, et praeterea nemo, ne angelus quidem." "Moderns" will attenuate it into whatever general considerations exist to commend the propositions in question to our credit, and will not pause until they have transmuted dogmas into - to put it shortly - just our "religious beliefs." "A dogma," says Dr. A. J. Headlam, "means a truth to be believed"; and it is the task of dogmatics, according to him, "to investigate, to expound, and to systematize those truths about God and human destiny, whether derived from nature or revelation, which should be believed" - a definition which, if taken literally, might seem to imply that there are some "truths" about God and human destiny - whether derived from nature or from revelation - which should not be believed. This ambiguity in the connotation of the term "dogma" is fatal to the usefulness of its derivative "dogmatic" as a designation of a department of theological science. It undertakes to tell us nothing of the department to which it is applied but the nature of the elements with which it deals; and it leaves us in uncertainty what the nature of these elements is, whether established truths or only "religious beliefs."

"Systematic theology" is attended with no such drawbacks. It properly describes the department to which it is attached, according to its own nature: it is the department in which the truths concerning God, given to us by the other departments of theological science, are systematized and presented in their proper relations to one another and to the whole of which they form parts. The authority of the truths with which it deals does not constitute its peculiarity as a department of theological science. These truths were just as authoritative as presented by exegetical theology one by one to our separate consideration, as when presented by systematic theology to our view in their concatenation with one another into a consistent whole. Their authority was not bestowed on them by their systematization; and they do not wait until presented by systematic theology to acquire authority. What constitutes the peculiarity of this department of theological science is that in it these truths are presented not one by one in isolation, but in a mutually related body - in a system. What more truly descriptive name for it could be invented than just "systematic theology"?

There are some, no doubt, to whom it may seem presumptuous to attempt to systematize our knowledge of God. If we possess any knowledge of God at all, however, the attempt to systematize it is a necessity of the human spirit. If we know so much as two facts concerning God, the human mind is incapable of holding these facts apart; it must contemplate them in relation to one another. Systematization is only a part of the irrepressible effort of the intelligence to comprehend the facts presented to it, an effort which the intelligence can escape only by ceasing to be intelligence. It may systematize well, or ill; but systematize it must whenever it holds together, in its unitary grasp, more facts than one. Wherever God is in any degree known by a being of a systematically working mind, therefore, there is a theology in the express sense of that word, that is, a "systematic theology." Only the atheist or the agnostic on the one side, the idiot or the lunatic on the other, can be without such a theology. If there is a God; if anything whatever is known of this God; if the being possessing this knowledge is capable of orderly thought - a theology in this sense is inevitable. It is but the reflection in the orderly working intelligence of God perceived as such; and it exists, therefore, wherever God is perceived and recognized. Doubt and hesitation before the task of systematizing our knowledge of God - be that knowledge great or small - is therefore not an effect of reverence, but an outgrowth of that agnostic temper which lurks behind much modern thinking.

The leaven of agnosticism underlying much of modern thought to which allusion has just been made, manifests itself more distinctly in the continuous attempt, which is more or less deliberately made, to shift the object of the knowledge which systematic theology systematizes from God to something else, deemed more capable of being really known by or more accessible to such beings as men. Theology, ex vi verbi, is the systematized knowledge of God; and if God exists and any knowledge of Him whatever is accessible to us, there must be such a thing as a systematic knowledge of Him, and it would seem that this would be the proper connotation of the term "theology." Nevertheless, we are repeatedly being told that theology is not the science of God, its object-matter being God in His existence and activities, but the science of religion or of faith, its object-matter being the religious phenomena manifested by humanity at large, or observable in the souls of believers. A whole generation of theologians, having the courage of their convictions, accordingly almost ceased to speak of "systematic theology," preferring some such name as the "science of faith" (Glaubenslehre). It was Schleiermacher, of course, who gave this subjective twist to what he still spoke of as "Dogmatics." Dogmas to him were no longer authoritative propositions concerning God, but "conceptions of the states of the Christian religious consciousness, set forth in formal statement"; and dogmatics was to him accordingly nothing more than the systematic presentation of the body of such dogmas in vogue in any given church at any given time. Accordingly he classified it frankly, along with "Church Statistics," under the caption of "The Historical Knowledge of the Present Situation of the Church." Undoubtedly it is very desirable to know what the Church at large, or any particular branch of the Church, believes at any given stage of its development. But this helps us to a better knowledge of the Church, not of God; and by what right the formulated results of such a historical inquiry can be called "dogmatics" or "systematic theology" simpliciter and not rather, historically, "the dogmatic system of the German Lutheran Church in the year 1821," or "the doctrinal belief of the American Baptists of 1910," it would be difficult to explain. The matter is not in principle altered if the end set before us is to delineate, not the doctrinal beliefs of a particular church at a particular time, but the religious conceptions of humanity at large. We are still moving in the region of history, and the results of our researches will be that we shall know better, not God, but man - man in his religious nature and in the products of his religious activities. After all, the science of religion is something radically different from systematic theology. We cannot thus lightly renounce the knowledge of the most important object of knowledge in the whole compass of knowledge. Over against the world and all that is in the world, including man and all that is in man, and all that is the product of man's highest activities, intellectual and, in the noblest sense the word may bear, spiritual, there after all stands God; and He - He Himself, not our thought about Him or our beliefs concerning Him, but He Himself - is the object of our highest knowledge. And to know Him is not merely the highest exercise of the human intellect; it is the indispensable complement of the circle of human science, which, without the knowledge of God, is fatally incomplete. It was not without reason that Augustine renounced the knowledge of all else but God and the soul; and that Calvin declares the knowledge of God and ourselves the sum of all useful knowledge. Without the knowledge of God it is not too much to say we know nothing rightly, so that the renunciation of the knowledge of God carries with it renunciation of all right knowledge. It is this knowledge of God which is designated by the appropriate term "theology," and it, as the science of God, stands over against all other sciences, each having its own object, determining for each its own peculiar subject-matter.

Theology being, thus, the systematized knowledge of God, the determining question which divides theologies concerns the sources from which this knowledge of God is derived. It may be agreed, indeed, that the sole source of all possible knowledge of God is revelation. God is a person; and a person is known only as he expresses himself, which is as much as to say only as he makes himself known, reveals himself. But this agreement is only formal. So soon as it is asked how God reveals Himself, theology is set over against theology in ineradicable opposition. The hinge on which the controversy particularly turns is the question whether God has revealed Himself only in works, or also in word: ultimately whether He has made Himself known only in the natural or also in a supernatural revelation. Answer this question as we may, we shall still have a theology, but according to our answer, so will be our theology, not merely in its contents but in its very method. By revelation may be meant nothing more than the evolution of religious ideas in the age-long thinking of the race, conceived (whether pantheistically or more or less theistically) as the expression of the divine mind in the forms of human thought. In that case, the work of systematic theology follows the lines of the psychology and phenomenology of religion; its task is to gather out and to cast into a systematic statement the metaphysical implications of the results of these departments of investigation. Or revelation may be summed up in the impression made by the phenomenon of Jesus on the minds of His believing followers. Then, what theology has to do is to unfold the ideas of God which are involved in this experience. Or, again, revelation may be thought to lie in a series of extraordinary occurrences, conceived as redemptive acts on the part of God, inserted into the course of ordinary history. In that case the task of theology is to draw out the implications of this series of extraordinary events in their sequence, and in their culmination in the apparition of Christ. Or, once more, revelation may be held to include the direct communication of truth through chosen organs of the divine Spirit. Then the fundamental task of theology becomes the ascertainment, formulation, and systematization of the truth thus communicated, and if this truth comes to it fixed in an authoritative written record, it is obvious that its task is greatly facilitated. These are not questions raised by systematic theology; nor does it belong to systematic theology to determine them. That task has already been performed for it by the precedent department of theological science which we call apologetics, which thus determines the whole structure and contents of systematic theology. The task of systematic theology is not to validate the reality, or to define the nature, or to determine the method of revelation; nor, indeed, even to ascertain the truths communicated by revelation; but to systematize these truths when placed in its hands by the precedent disciplines of apologetical, exegetical, and historical theology.

The question of the sources of our knowledge of God culminates obviously in the question of the Scriptures. Do the Scriptures contain a special revelation of God; or are they merely a record of religious aspirations and attainments of men - under whatever (more or less) divine leading? Are they themselves the documented revelation of God to man; or do they merely contain the record of the effect on men of the revelation of God made in a series of redemptive acts culminating in Christ, or possibly made in Christ alone? Are the declarations of Scripture the authoritative revelations of God to us which need only to be understood to become items in our trustworthy knowledge of God; or are they merely human statements, conveying with more or less accuracy the impressions received by men in the presence of divine manifestations of more or less purity? On the answers which our apologetics gives to such questions as these, depend the entire method and contents of our systematic theology. Many voices are raised about us, declaring "the old view of the Scriptures" no longer tenable; meaning by this the view that recognizes them as the documented revelation of God and treats their declarations as the authoritative enunciations of truth. Nevertheless men have not commonly wished to break entirely with the Scriptures. In one way or another they have usually desired to see in them a record of divine revelation; and in one sense or another they have desired to find in them, if not the source, yet the norm, of the knowledge of God which they have sought to set forth in their theologies. This apparent deference to Scripture is, however, illusory. In point of fact, on a closer scrutiny of their actual procedure, it will be discovered that "modern thinkers" in general really set aside Scripture altogether as source or even authoritative norm of our knowledge of God, and depend, according to their individual predilections, on reason, on Christian experience, corporate or personal, or on tradition, for all the truth concerning God which they will admit. The formal incorporation by them of Scripture among the sources of theology is merely a fashion of speech derived from the historical evolution of their "new" views and is indicatory only of the starting-point of their development. Their case is much the same as the Romanist's who still formally places Scripture at the base of his "rule of faith" in the complicated formula: Scripture plus tradition, as interpreted by the Church, speaking through its infallible organ, the pope - while in point of fact it is just the pope, speaking ex cathedra, which constitutes the actual authority to which he bows.

A striking illustration of how men cling to such old phraseology after it has become obsolete to their actual thought may be derived from a recent writer whom we have already taken occasion to quote. Dr. A. C. Headlam, whose inheritance is Anglican while his critical point of view is "modern," really recognizes no source of theological beliefs (for with him dogmatics deals with beliefs, not truths) but tradition and the living voice of the Church. Yet this is the way he describes the sources of his theology: "The continuous revelation of the Old Testament as accepted in the New, the revelation of Christ in the New Testament, the witness of Christian tradition, and the living voice of the Christian Church." The statement is so far incomplete that it omits the revelation of "nature," for Dr. Headlarn allows that nature may teach us somewhat of its Maker: it includes the sources only of what Dr. Headlarn would perhaps call "revealed theology." What is to be noted is that it avoids saying simply that these sources are Scripture, tradition, and the living voice of the Church, as a Romanist might have said, reserving of course the right of further explanation of how these three sources stand related to one another. Dr. Headlam has gone too far with modern Biblical criticism to accept the Scriptures as a direct source of dogma. He therefore frames wary forms of statement. He does not say "the Old Testament," or even "the continuous revelation of the Old Testament." He introduces a qualifying clause: "The continuous revelation of the Old Testament as accepted in the New." This is not, however, to make the New Testament the authoritative norm of theological truth. Proceeding to speak of this New Testament, he does not say simply "the New Testament"; or even "the revelation embodied in the New Testament." He restricts himself to: "The revelation of Christ in the New Testament." It is not, we see, the Old and New Testaments themselves he is thinking of; he does not accord authority to either of them as is done, for example, when they are spoken of in the old phrase, "God's Word written." His appeal to them is not as the documented revelation of God, nor even, as might be perhaps supposed at first sight, as the trustworthy record of such revelations as God has given; but simply as depositories, so far, of Christian beliefs. The Scriptures, in a word, are of value to him only as witness to Christian tradition. He says explicitly: "The Scriptures are simply a part of the Christian tradition"; and he is at pains to show that Christianity, having antedated the New Testament, cannot be derived from it but must rather be just reflected in it. He does not even look upon the Scriptures as a trustworthy depository of Christian tradition. The tradition which they preserve for us is declared to be both incomplete and distorted. They cannot serve, therefore, even as a test of tradition; contrariwise, tradition is the norm of Scripture and its correction is needed to enable us safely to draw from Scripture. "It is tradition," we read, "which gives us the true proportions of apostolic teaching and practice," by which the one-sidedness of the Scriptural record is rectified. If, then, Dr. Headlam's view of the sources of dogmatics were stated with succinct clearness, undeflected by modes of speech which have become outworn to him, we should have to say that these sources are just "tradition" and "the voice of the living Church." Scripture is to him merely an untrustworthy vehicle of tradition.

Dr. Headlam is an Anglican, and when the authority of Scripture dissolves in his hands, he drops back naturally on "the Church," - its "tradition," its "living voice." Others, born under different skies, have only the authority of the Christian's own spirit to fall back on, whether as a rationally thinking entity, or as a faith-enlightened soul. A mighty effort is, indeed, made to escape from the individualistic subjectivism of this point of view; but with indifferent success. It is not, however, to the Scriptures that appeal is made in this interest. Rather is it common with this wholeschool of writers that it is not the Scriptures but "the gospel" which supplies the norm by which the faith of the individual is regulated, or the source from which it derives its positive content. This "gospel" may be spoken of, indeed, as "the essential content and the inspiring soul of the Holy Scriptures." But this does not mean that whatever we may find written in the Scriptures enters into this "gospel," but rather that of all which stands written in the Scriptures only that which we esteem the "gospel" has religious significance and therefore theological value. What this "gospel" is, therefore, is not objectively but subjectively determined. Sometimes it is frankly declared to be just that element in Scripture which awakens our souls to life; sometimes more frankly still it is affirmed to be only what in Scripture approves itself to our Christian judgment. "What is a proper function of a Christian man," demands an American writer not without heat, "if not to know a Christian truth when he sees it?" - just Paul's question turned topsy-turvy, since Paul would draw the inference that whoever did not recognize his words as the commandments of God was therefore no Christian man. Sometimes, with an effort to attain a greater show of objectivity, the "gospel" is said to include all that measures up to the revelation of God in Christ. But the trouble is that the Christ which is thus made the touchstone is Himself a subjective creation. He is not the Christ of the gospel narrative, as He stands out upon the pages of the evangelists; for even in its portraiture of Jesus the Scriptures are held untrustworthy. The Jesus by which we would try Scripture is rather a reflection back upon the page of Scripture of what we conceive the revelation of God in Christ ought to be. When our very touchstone is thus a subjective creation, it is easy to estimate how much real objective authority belongs to the Scriptural revelation determined by it. One of the most interesting, and certainly one of the most strenuous attempts to preserve for Scripture a certain recognition in theological construction from this point of view is supplied by Julius Kaftan. Kaftan is emphatic and insistent that the faith-knowledge which, according to him, constitutes the substance of dogmatics, takes hold upon objective realities which are matters of revelation and that this revelation is recorded in the Scriptures. But unfortunately he is equally emphatic and insistent that this "revelation" witnessed by the Scriptures is not a communication of truths, but a series of occurrences, testified to as such, indeed, by the Scriptures (when historico-critically dealt with), but by no means authoritatively, or even trustworthily interpreted by the Scriptures. And therefore it is utilizable for the purposes of dogmatics only as it is taken up by "faith" and transmuted by faith into knowledge; which is as much as to say that faith may, indeed, be quickened by Scripture, but the material which is to be built into our dogmatics is not what Scripture teaches but what we believe. "Dogmatics," we are told explicitly, "derives none of its propositions directly from the Scriptures; . . . what mediates for Dogmatics between the Scriptures and the dogmatic propositions, is faith." "The dogma of which Dogmatics treats is the dogma that is recognized by the community." All of which, it would seem, would be more clearly expressed, if it were simply said that the source of dogmatics is not Scripture but faith - the faith of the community.

This is not the place to vindicate the objective authority of Scripture as the documented revelation of God. That is the task of apologetics. What we are now seeking to make clear, is only that, as there are apologetics and apologetics, so there are, following them, systematic theologies and systematic theologies. Systematic theology, as the presentation of the knowledge of God in systematized form, can build only with the materials which the precedent departments of theological science give it and only after a fashion consonant with the nature of these materials. If our apologetics has convinced us that we have no other knowledge of God but that given us by a rational contemplation of the world, recognized as the work of His hands; or that given us by an analysis of the convictions which form themselves in hearts fixed on Him - our procedure will take shape from the character of our sources and the modes by which knowledge of God is elicited from them. But equally if our apologetics assures us that God not only manifests Himself in His works, and moves in the hearts which turn to Him in faith, but has redemptively intervened in the historical development of the race (without this redemptive intervention lost in sin), and that not merely in acts but in words, and has fixed the record of this intervention in authoritative Scriptures, our whole procedure in systematizing the knowledge of God thus conveyed to us will be determined by the character of the sources on which we depend. Taking from the hands of apologetics the natural knowledge of God which its critical survey of the results of human science brings us, and from the hands of Biblical theology the supernaturally revealed knowledge of God which its survey of the historical process of revelation yields us, and viewing all in the light of the progressive assimilation of the body of knowledge of God by His people, through twenty centuries of thinking, and feeling, and living - systematic theology essays to cast the whole into a systematic formulation, conformed to the laws of thought and consonant with the modes of conception proper to the human intelligence.

Systematic theology is thus, in essence, an attempt to reflect in the mirror of the human consciousness the God who reveals Himself in His works and word, and as He has revealed Himself. It finds its whole substance in the revelation which we suppose God to have made of Himself; and as we differ as to the revelation which we suppose God to have made, so will our systematic theologies differ in their substance. Its form is given it by the greater or less perfection of the reflection of this revelation in our consciousness. It is not imagined, of course, that this reflection can be perfect in any individual consciousness. It is the people of God at large who are really the subject of that knowledge of God which systematic theology seeks to set forth. Nor is it imagined that even in the people of God at large, in their present imperfect condition, oppressed by the sin of the world of which they still form a part, the image of God can be reflected back to Him in its perfection. Only the pure in heart can see God; and who, even of His redeemed saints, are in this life really pure in heart? Meanwhile God is framing the knowledge of Himself in the hearts of His people; and, as each one of them seeks to give expression in the forms best adapted to human consciousness, to the knowledge of God he has received, a better and fuller reflection of the revealed God is continually growing up. Systematic theology is therefore a progressive science. It will be perfected only in the minds and hearts of the perfected saints who at the end, being at last like God, shall see Him as He is. Then, the God who has revealed Himself to His people shall be known by them in all the fullness of His revelation of Himself. Now we know in part; but when that which is perfect is come that which is in part shall be done away.

God

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Reprinted from "A Dictionary of the Bible," edited by John D. Davis, Ph.D., D.D., LL.D., 1898, pp. 251-253.

The English word "God" is derived from a root meaning "to call," and indicates simply the object of worship, one whom men call upon or invoke. The Greek word which it translates in the pages of the New Testament, however, describes this object of worship as Spirit; and the Old Testament Hebrew word, which this word in turn represents, conveys, as its primary meaning, the idea of power. On Christian lips, therefore, the word "God" designates fundamentally the almighty Spirit who is worshiped and whose aid is invoked by men. This primary idea of God, in which is summed up what is known as theism, is the product of that general revelation which God makes of Himself to all men, on the plane of nature. The truths involved in it are continually reiterated, enriched, and deepened in the Scriptures; but they are not so much revealed by them as presupposed at the foundation of the special revelation with which the Scriptures busy themselves - the great revelation of the grace of God to sinners. On the plane of nature men can learn only what God necessarily is, and what, by virtue of His essential attributes, He must do; a special communication from Him is requisite to assure us what, in His infinite love, He will do for the recovery of sinners from their guilt and misery to the bliss of communion with Him. And for the full revelation of this, His grace in the redemption of sinners, there was requisite an even more profound unveiling of the mode of His existence, by which He has been ultimately disclosed as including in the unity of His being a distinction of persons, by virtue of which it is the same God from whom, through whom, and by whom are all things, who is at once the Father who provides, the Son who accomplishes, and the Spirit who applies, redemption. Only in the uncovering of this supernal mystery of the Trinity is the revelation of what God is completed. That there is no hint of the Trinity in the general revelation made on the plane of nature is due to the fact that nature has nothing to say of redemption, in the process of which alone are the depths of the divine nature made known. That it is explicitly revealed only in the New Testament is due to the fact that not until the New Testament stage of revelation was reached was the redemption, which was being prepared throughout the whole Old Testament economy, actually accomplished. That so ineffable a mystery was placed before the darkened mind of man at all is due to the necessities of the plan of redemption itself, which is rooted in the trinal distinction in the Godhead, and can be apprehended only on the basis of the Trinity in Unity.

The nature of God has been made known to men, therefore, in three stages, corresponding to the three planes of revelation, and we will naturally come to know Him, first, as the infinite Spirit or the God of nature; then, as the Redeemer of sinners, or the God of grace; and lastly as the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, or the Triune God.

I. GOD, THE INFINITE SPIRIT

The conviction of the existence of God bears the marks of an intuitive truth in so far as it is the universal and unavoidable belief of men, and is given in the very same act with the idea of self, which is known at once as dependent and responsible and thus implies one on whom it depends and to whom it is responsible. This immediate perception of God is confirmed and the contents of the idea developed by a series of arguments known as the "theistic proofs." These are derived from the necessity we are under of believing in the real existence of the infinitely perfect Being, of a sufficient cause for the contingent universe, of an intelligent author of the order and of the manifold contrivances observable in nature, and of a lawgiver and judge for dependent moral beings, endowed with the sense of duty and an ineradicable feeling of responsibility, conscious of the moral contradictions of the world and craving a solution for them, and living under an intuitive perception of right which they do not see realized. The cogency of these proofs is currently recognized in the Scriptures, while they add to them the supernatural manifestations of God in a redemptive process, accompanied at every stage by miraculous attestation. From the theistic proofs, however, we learn not only that a God exists, but also necessarily, on the principle of a sufficient cause, very much of the nature of the God which they prove to exist. The idea is still further developed, on the principle of interpreting by the highest category within our reach, by our instinctive attribution to Him, in an eminent degree, of all that is the source of dignity and excellence in ourselves. Thus we come to know God as a personal Spirit, infinite, eternal, and illimitable alike in His being and in the intelligence, sensibility, and will which belong to Him as personal spirit. The attributes which are thus ascribed to Him, including self-existence, independence, unity, uniqueness, unchangeableness, omnipresence, infinite knowledge and wisdom, infinite freedom and power, infinite truth, righteousness, holiness and goodness, are not only recognized but richly illustrated in Scripture, which thus puts the seal of its special revelation upon all the details of the natural idea of God.

II. GOD, THE REDEEMER OF SINNERS

While reiterating the teaching of nature as to the existence and character of the personal Creator and Lord of all, the Scriptures lay their stress upon the grace or the undeserved love of God, as exhibited in His dealings with His sinful and wrath-deserving creatures. So little, however, is the consummate divine attribute of love advanced, in the Scriptural revelation, at the expense of the other moral attributes of God, that it is thrown into prominence only upon a background of the strongest assertion and fullest manifestation of its companion attributes, especially of the divine righteousness and holiness, and is exhibited as acting only along with and in entire harmony with them. God is not represented in the Scriptures as forgiving sin because He really cares very little about sin; nor yet because He is so exclusively or predominatingly the God of love, that all other attributes shrink into desuetude in the presence of His illimitable benevolence. He is rather represented as moved to deliver sinful man from his guilt and pollution because He pities the creatures of His hand, immeshed in sin, with an intensity which is born of the vehemence of His holy abhorrence of sin and His righteous determination to visit it with intolerable retribution; and by a mode which brings as complete satisfaction to His infinite justice and holiness as to His unbounded love itself. The Biblical presentation of the God of grace includes thus the richest development of all His moral attributes, and the God of the Bible is consequently set forth, in the completeness of that idea, as above everything else the ethical God. And that is as much as to say that there is ascribed to Him a moral sense so sensitive and true that it estimates with unfailing accuracy the exact moral character of every person or deed presented for its contemplation, and responds to it with the precisely appropriate degree of satisfaction or reprobation. The infinitude of His love is exhibited to us precisely in that while we were yet sinners He loved us, though with all the force of His infinite nature he reacted against our sin with illimitable abhorrence and indignation. The mystery of grace resides just in the impulse of a sin-hating God to show mercy to such guilty wretches; and the supreme revelation of God as the God of holy love is made in the disclosure of the mode of His procedure in redemption, by which alone He might remain just while justifying the ungodly. For in this procedure there was involved the mighty paradox of the infinitely just Judge Himself becoming the sinner's substitute before His own law and the infinitely blessed God receiving in His own person the penalty of sin.

III. GOD, THE FATHER, SON, AND HOLY GHOST

The elements of the plan of salvation are rooted in the mysterious nature of the Godhead, in which there coexists a trinal distinction of persons with absolute unity of essence; and the revelation of the Trinity was accordingly incidental to the execution of this plan of salvation, in which the Father sent the Son to be the propitiation for sin, and the Son, when He returned to the glory which He had with the Father before the world was, sent the Spirit to apply His redemption to men. The disclosure of this fundamental fact of the divine nature, therefore, lagged until the time had arrived for the actual working out of the long-promised redemption; and it was accomplished first of all in fact rather than in word, by the actual appearance of God the Son on earth and the subsequent manifestations of the Spirit, who was sent forth to act as His representative in His absence. At the very beginning of Christ's ministry the three persons are dramatically exhibited to our sight in the act of His baptism. And though there is no single passage in Scripture in which all the details of this great mystery are gathered up and expounded, there do not lack passages in which the three persons are brought together in a manner which exhibits at once their unity and distinctness. The most prominent of these are perhaps the formula of baptism in the triune name, put into the mouths of His followers by the resurrected Lord (Matt. xxviii. 19), and the apostolic benediction in which a divine blessing is invoked from each person in turn (II Cor. xiii. 14). The essential elements which enter into and together make up this great revelation of the Triune God are, however, most commonly separately insisted upon. The chief of these are the three constitutive facts: (1) that there is but one God (Deut. vi. 4; Isa. xliv. 6; I Cor. viii. 4; Jas. ii. 19); (2) that the Father is God (Matt. xi. 25; John vi. 27; viii. 41; Rom. xv. 6; I Cor. viii. 6; Gal. i. 1, 3, 4; Eph. iv. 6; vi. 23; I Thess. i. 1; Jas. i. 27; iii. 9; I Pet. i. 2; Jude 1); the Son is God (John i. 1, 18; xx. 28; Acts xx. 28; Rom. ix. 5; Heb. i. 8; Col. ii. 9; Phil. ii. 6; II Pet. i. 1); and the Spirit is God (Acts v. 3, 4; I Cor. ii. 10, 11; Eph. ii. 22); and (3) that the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are personally distinct from one another, distinguished by personal pronouns, able to send and be sent by one another, to love and honor each the other, and the like (John xv. 26; xvi. 13, 14; xvii. 8, 18, 23; xvi. 14; xvii. 1). The doctrine of the Trinity is but the synthesis of these facts, and, adding nothing to them, simply recognizes in the unity of the Godhead such a Trinity of persons as is involved in the working out of the plan of redemption. In the prosecution of this work there is implicated a certain relative subordination in the modes of operation of the several persons, by which it is the Father that sends the Son and the Son who sends the Spirit; but the three persons are uniformly represented in Scripture as in their essential nature each alike God over all, blessed forever (Rom. ix. 5); and we are therefore to conceive the subordination as rather economical, that is, relative to the function of each in the work of redemption, than essential, that is, involving a difference in nature.

Predestination in the Reformed Confessions1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

[within bracketed notes: WC=Westminster Confession]

What we call the Reformation was fundamentally, when looked at from a spiritual point of view, a great revival of religion; when looked at from the theological point of view, a great revival of Augustinianism.2 It was the one just because it was the other. Revolting from the domination of ecclesiastical machinery, men found their one haven of rest in the sovereignty of God. The doctrine of Predestination was therefore the central doctrine of the Reformation.3 In the Romish system the idea of predestination has no place, and interest in any opinions that may be held concerning it is in that communion at best but languid. Therefore Perrone, after explaining the difference between the views of the Augustinianizing Thomists and the semi-Pelagianizing Jesuits, can complacently add: "Each school has its own reasons for holding to its opinion: the Church has never wished to compose this controversy: therefore every one may, with safety to the faith, adhere to whichever opinion he is most disposed to and thinks best adapted to solve the difficulties of unbelievers and heretics."4 The matter was very different with the Reformers. To them the doctrine of predestination was given directly in their consciousness of dependence as sinners on the free mercy of a saving God: it therefore was part of the content of their deepest religious consciousness. Calvin is historically thoroughly justified in his remark that "no one who wishes to be thought pious will dare to deny simpliciter the predestination by which God adopts some into the hope of life and adjudicates others to eternal death."5 In very fact, all the Reformers were at one in this doctrine, and on it as a hinge their whole religious consciousness as well as doctrinal teaching turned. The fact is so obvious as to compel recognition even in unsympathetic circles. Thus, for instance, the late Dr. Philip Schaff, though adjusting his language with perhaps superfluous care so as to exhibit his doctrinal disharmony with the Reformers, is yet forced to give explicit recognition to the universal enthusiasm with which they advocated the strictest doctrine of predestination. "All the Reformers of the sixteenth century," he says,6 "including even the gentle Melanchthon and the compromising Bucer, under a controlling sense of human depravity and saving grace, in extreme antagonism to Pelagianism and self-righteousness, and, as they sincerely believed, in full harmony not only with the greatest of the fathers, but also with the inspired St. Paul, came to the same doctrine of a double predestination which decides the eternal destiny of all men. Nor is it possible to evade this conclusion," he justly adds, "on the two acknowledged premises of Protestant orthodoxy - namely, the wholesale condemnation of men in Adam, and the limitation of saving grace to the present world."7

Scarcely was the Reformation established, however, before the purity of its confession of the predestination of God began to give way. The first serious blow to it was given by the defection of Melanchthon to a synergistic conception of the saving act. As a result of the consequent controversies, the Lutheran Churches were misled into seeking to define predestination as having sole reference to salvation, denying its obverse of reprobation. "First of all," says the "Formula of Concord" (1576), "it ought to be most accurately observed that there is a distinction between the foreknowledge and the predestination or eternal election of God. . . . This foreknowledge of God extends both to good and evil men; but nevertheless is not the cause of evil, nor is it the cause of sin. . . . But the predestination or eternal election of God extends only to the good and beloved children of God, and this is the cause of their salvation."8 The grave inconsequence of this construction, of course, speedily had its revenge; and typical Lutheranism rapidly sank to the level of Romish indifference to predestination altogether, and of the Romish explanation of it as ex prævisa fide.9 Meanwhile the Reformed continued to witness a better profession; partly, no doubt, because of the greater depth of religious life induced in them by the severity of the persecutions they were called upon to undergo; and partly, no doubt, because of the greater height of religious thinking created in them by the example and impulse of their great leader - at once, as even Renan has been compelled to testify, the best Christian of his day and the greatest religious thinker of the modern world. The first really dangerous assault on what had now become distinctively the Reformed doctrine of predestination was delayed till the opening of the seventeenth century. In the meantime, though, no doubt, many individual Reformed thinkers had been more or less affected by a Lutheran environment, as in the lands of German speech, or by Romish remainders, as in England, as well as no doubt by the everywhere present rationalizing spirit which ever lays its stress on man's autocracy; yet the Reformed Churches had everywhere compacted their faith in numerous creeds, in which the Reformed consciousness had expressed itself on the whole with remarkable purity. These now served as a barrier to the new attacks, and supplied strongholds in which the Reformed consciousness could intrench itself for future influence. The Arminian assault was therefore successfully met. And although, ever since, the evil seed then sown has produced a continuous harvest of doubt and dispute in the Reformed Churches; until to-day - in a new age of syncretism of perhaps unexampled extension - it threatens to eat out all that is distinctive in the Reformed Confessions: nevertheless the Reformed sense of absolute dependence on the God of grace for salvation remains till today the dominant element in the thought of the Reformed Churches, and its theological expression in the complete doctrine of prædestinatio duplex retains its place in the hearts as well as in the creeds of a multitude of Reformed Christians throughout the world.

The numerous Reformed creeds, representing the convictions of Christian men of very diverse races during a period of a century and a half (1523-1675), while on the whole falling behind the works of the great dogmaticians in the ability and fullness with which they set forth the Reformed system,10 nevertheless form a very remarkable series of documents when looked at as the consistent embodiment of such a doctrine as the Reformed doctrine of predestination. For their own sakes, and for the sake of the great doctrine which they so persistently maintained in the face of so many disintegrating influences and such determined assaults, they are well worth our study. And this primary impulse to turn to them is powerfully reenforced in our own day by the circumstance that recent appeals to them seem to suggest that they have been but little investigated by the men of our generation; so that their message to us is in danger of being widely misapprehended, and sometimes, it must be confessed, even seriously misrepresented. There is a certain timeliness, therefore, as well as inherent propriety in, at this juncture, drawing out from the Reformed creeds their teaching as to predestination, and noting the essential harmony in their presentation of this great doctrine. Assuredly by such a survey the doctrine will be more deeply rooted in our thinking and love. It is possible that we may incidentally learn how to esteem the teaching on this great subject of what may well be spoken of as the consummate flower of the Reformed symbols - that Westminster Confession which it has been our happiness as Presbyterians to inherit. And along with this, we may perhaps also learn what estimate to place on the attempts which are now making more or less to eliminate from that Confession its testimony to this great central Reformed doctrine. It will probably not be deemed impertinent if we prefix to the extracts taken from the Confessions a brief running account of the documents and their general attitude to the subject under discussion, such as may serve as a kind of introduction to reading intelligently their own words.

I

The Reformed Confessions begin, of course, with the symbolical writings of Zwingli and his Swiss coadjutors, and pass thence to those produced by Calvin and his pupils, and so on to the later documents, the work of the Reformed theologians of the latter part of the sixteenth and of the seventeenth centuries.

Zwingli himself produced four works of this character. These are the Sixty-seven Articles or Conclusions of Zurich (1523), the Ten Bernese Theses (1528), the System of Faith ("Fidei ratio"), prepared to be presented at the Diet of Augsburg (1530), and the Exposition of the Christian Faith, addressed to Francis I, and published by Bullinger after Zwingli's death (1531). These present the Reformed faith in the first stage of its affirmation. The former two contain, indeed, only the simplest and briefest assertion of the primary elements of Protestant practice in opposition to the most prominent evils of the Romish Church: the latter two are more elaborate expositions of the Protestant belief, but are essentially of an apologetic order. No one of these documents treats professedly of predestination or election, though of course they all rest on the convictions in these matters that characterized Zwingli's thought, and in the two more elaborate documents allusions to them naturally appear. These are more direct and full in the "Fidei ratio," and occur in it in connection with the treatment of the Fall, Redemption, and especially of the Church - about which last topic the controversy with Rome of course especially raged. In the "Expositio fidei christianæ" they occur most pointedly in connection with the treatment of Good Works. In mass they are not copious, but they constitute a very clear and a tolerably full outline of the Reformed doctrine on the subject. God, we are told, has freely made appointment concerning all things, and that by a decree which is eternal and independent of all that is outside of Himself: in this decree is included the fall of man along with all else that comes to pass: and, as well, the election in Christ of some - whom He will - to eternal life; these constitute His Church, properly so called, known certainly from all eternity by Him, but becoming known to themselves as God's elect only through the witness of the Spirit in due time in their hearts, and the testimony of their good works which are the product and not the foreseen occasion of their election; and by these only are they differentiated in the external Church from the reprobates who with them may be included in its bounds.

Meanwhile the Reformation was spreading to other localities, and in proportion as the same need was felt for an expression of the principles of the new faith which had produced the Zwinglian articles, similar articles were being elsewhere produced. The so-called Tetrapolitan Confession of 1530 owed its origin, indeed, rather to a specific demand - to the need of a witness to the faith of the four imperial cities to be presented, like Zwingli's "Fidei ratio," at the Diet of Augsburg; and its form and general contents were determined by the desire of its authors (Bucer, with the aid of Capito and Hedio) to assimilate the expression of their faith to the Lutheran Confession presented at that Diet. It contains no separate section on predestination, nor, indeed, does it anywhere make any clear allusion to it, though the conceptions on this matter animating the Reformed Churches seem to underlie the sections on Justification and Good Works. Very similar were the circumstances in which the Bohemian Confessions (1535 and 1575) were framed: and the results are much the same. The earliest Basle Confession, prepared by Oecolampaclius and Myconius (1534), on the other hand, besides asserting the universal government of God, gives a brief paragraph in its exposition of the doctrine of God to the subject of predestination: this affirms simply that "God before He had created the world had elected all those to whom He would give eternal salvation" - a sentence worthy of our note chiefly because it is the earliest instance in the Reformed Confessions of a separate paragraph devoted to this great subject.11 What is known as the Second Basle, or more properly as the First Helvetic, Confession, prepared in 1536, under the unionistic influences of the Strasburg Reformers (Bucer and Capito), and in anticipation of a General Council - and therefore under much the same conditions that gave birth to the Tetrapolitan Confession - like that document omits all direct reference to the subject of predestination. The Confessions of Poland (1570), and Hungary, prepared under much the same conditions, exhibit much the same sparingness of speech on the subject. Of these only the Hungarian (1557-1558) adverts to it at all, and that most explicitly only to defend God against the charge of "respect of persons." Even so, however, it tells us that all things are eternally disposed by God; and that God's election is eternal, entirely gratuitous, and therefore freely disposed according only to His own will; and that it leaves aside vessels of wrath to the endless doom justly due to their sins.

As the Reformed consciousness took firmer form in the passage of time, however, this tendency to pass lightly over the subject naturally passed more and more away. Something of the early apologetical tone in dealing with predestination doubtless still clings to the Second Helvetic Confession, which was composed by Bullinger in 1562 for his own private use, and on its publication in 1566 was rapidly very widely adopted throughout the Reformed world. Winer12 certainly goes too far when he affirms that its presentation of predestination is so remarkable a "softening of the dogma" that "this Confession might be placed in the borderland of Predestinarianism." It is muchmore accurate to say with Müller that the Reformed doctrine is set forth here very clearly in its peculiarity, but with an effort to avoid giving offense: and that it is dominated not so much by doctrinal obscurity as by an ethical-practical intent. 13 The doctrine is here at length: and it is carefully and soundly stated: but there is, no doubt, apparent in its whole treatment a certain defensive attitude which seems more intent to guard it from attack than to bring out all its content with clearness and force. God is said to have determined its end to every creature and to have ordained along with the end at the same time the means by which it shall be attained. He is certainly not the author of sin, with which He is connected only as permitting it for high ends, when He could have prevented it if He had so chosen, and thus as utilizing it in the execution of His plans. His providence is accordingly over all, though nothing finds its evil in His providence. The predestination of His saints to be saved in Christ is eternal, particular, on the ground of no foreseen merit, and assured of its end: and the election of saints to life implies the desertion of a body of reprobates. Who is elect is only a posteriori discoverable through men's relation to Christ; we are to judge of others in this matter with charity and are to hope well of all, numbering none rashly among the reprobates: of our own election and therefore certain salvation we may, on the other hand, be assured if we know ourselves to be in Christ and bear fruitage in a holy life. The whole substance of the doctrine clearly is here, though the stress is laid continually on its aspects as seen sub specie temporis rather than æternitatis.

The case is little different with the Heidelberg Catechism, which doubtless owes it only to its purpose as a document meant as practical milk for babes more than theological meat for mature Christians, that it has very little directly to say about so high a mystery. It is nevertheless pervaded from beginning to end with an underlying presupposition of it, and hints of the doctrine emerge oftener than is always recognized, and that both in its general and special aspects. These hints once or twice rise to explicit assertions, and when they do they leave nothing to be desired in the way of sharpness of conception. It is naturally under the doctrine of providence that general predestination is most clearly alluded to: the Eternal Father is said to uphold and govern the universe "by His eternal counsel and providence," and that effectively for His ends - "so governing all creatures that . . . all things come not by chance but by His Fatherly hand" (Ques. 26, 27). Special predestination, equally naturally, is most directly adduced in connection with the doctrine of the Church (Ques. 54): we are to believe concerning the Church "that out of the whole human race, the Son of God, by His Spirit and word, gathers into the unity of true faith, defends and preserves for Himself a communion elected to eternal life": and further, each of us is to believe that he is "and shall ever remain a living member of the same." Here the facts of election and perseverance are explicitly asserted. Elsewhere we are taught that our comfort in looking for the coming of Christ the Lord is derived from the fact that He will "cast all His and our enemies into eternal damnation, and will take us together with all the elect to Himself into heavenly joy and glory" (Ques. 52); and similar comforting allusions to election are found elsewhere (Ques. 1, 31).

Among later documents something of the circumspection which was the natural product in the first age of unionistic efforts on the one hand, and of desire to shield the infant Churches from powerful enemies on the other, appears again in a somewhat different form in what are usually called the Brandenburg Confessions. These are the Confession of Sigismund (1614), the Leipzig Colloquy (1631), and above all the Declaration of Thorn (1645). These are historically especially interesting as exhibiting the general firmness with which on the whole the Reformed held to and asserted the essentials of their doctrine in the most untoward circumstances. The Confession of Sigismund (1614) is a purely personal statement of the Elector's faith, published on his conversion from the Lutheranism in which he had been bred. He explicitly confesses, under a sense of its great importance - as the basis on which rest "not only all the other Articles, but also our salvation" itself - the eternal and gratuitous election of God - the eternal ordination of His chosen ones, without respect to worthiness, merit or works in them, to everlasting life and all the means thereto: as also the corresponding fact of an eternal preterition of the rest and their preparation for the punishment which is their due. Great stress is laid on the justice of the judgment of God in reprobation, and there is perhaps some failure in nice discrimination between what is known among theologians as "negative" and "positive" reprobation: the interest of Sigismund turning rather on vindicating God from the reproach of taking pleasure in the death of sinners and claiming for Him a universal love for the world. The statement of the Reformed doctrine at the Leipzig Colloquy (1631) was for the avowed purpose of establishing as near an agreement with Lutheran modes of statement as could be attained without the surrender of essential truth, and the forms of statement are naturally deeply colored by this unionistic purpose. Nevertheless the entire substance of the doctrine is fairly preserved. A free, eternal election of not all but some men, particularly designed, on the ground of nothing foreseen in them, to the sole reception of the efficacious means of grace is asserted: and along with it, the corresponding eternal reprobation of the rest. Great care is taken to free God from constructive blame for the death of the wicked, and in the language in which this is done there is perhaps, as in the Confession of Sigismund, an insufficient discrimination between negative and positive reprobation.

By far the most interesting of the three Brandenburg statements, however, is the Declaration presented at the Colloquy of Thorn (1645). Here many of the conditions which accompanied the statement of Protestant belief at the Diet of Augsburg in 1530 were substantially reproduced. Reformed doctrine was above all things to be so set forth as to attach itself to whatever latent elements of the truth might be discoverable in Romish thought. The chief points of difference from the earlier situation are due to the later date and changed times; at this period the Reformed had not only come to full consciousness of their faith, but had tasted its preciousness in times of persecution and strife. It is interesting to observe the means taken in these circumstances to commend the Reformed doctrine to Romish sympathy. Briefly they consisted in setting it forth as simply "Augustinianism." No separate caption is devoted to predestination or to election. All that is said on these topics is subsumed quite Augustine-wise under the caption "De gratia." This caption is developed in eight calmly written paragraphs which, beginning with redemption of the helpless sinner through the sole grace of God in Christ, carries him through the stages of the ordo salutis - effectual calling, justification, sanctification, perseverance, final reward - all of the pure grace of God - to end in the reference of all to God's eternal purpose in election. This is followed by eighteen further paragraphs in which the whole doctrine of grace, as before positively developed, is guarded from misapprehension, and defense is offered against calumnies. Only the two last of these paragraphs concern the doctrine of election. The whole is closed with a direct appeal to Augustine and a challenge to the followers of Thomas Aquinas to recognize the Reformed doctrine as none other than that taught them by their master.

The Thoruniensian theologians thus put themselves forward distinctly as "Augustinians" and asked to be judged as such. It is nevertheless in substance a very thoroughly developed Reformed doctrine that they express under this "Augustinian" form. In their fundamental statement they refer all of God's saving activities to His eternal election as their source; deny that it itself rests on anything foreseen in its object, and derive it from mere and undeserved grace alone; and connect with it the ordination of all the means by which the predestined salvation is attained: nor do they shrink from explicitly placing over against it the preterition of the rest. In the additional paragraphs the sure issue of election in eternal life is renewedly insisted on (11), as well as the origin of the election in mere grace (17), and the fixedness of the number of the elect (17). On the other hand, some subtlety is expended in the closing paragraph on the exposition of the relation of the eternal decrees of election and reprobation to the actual character of men. It is denied that these decrees are "absolute" in the sense that they are "without any respect to faith and unbelief, to good and evil works." It is denied also, however, that faith and good works are the cause or reason of election, and doubtless by implication (though this is not said in so many words) that unbelief and sin are the cause or reason of the involved preterition. What is affirmed is that faith and good works are foreseen in the elect as "means of salvation foreordained in them by God." And that "not only original sin, but also, so far as adults are concerned, unbelief and contumacious impenitence, are not properly speaking foreordained of God, but foreseen and permitted in the reprobates themselves as the cause of desertion and damnation, and reprobated by the justest of judgments." The natural meaning of this language yields a sound Reformed sense. So far as it concerns the elect, indeed, none other is capable of being drawn from it. There is an unfortunately ambiguous use of language, however, with reference to the reprobates - as, indeed, even in the use made of the technical term "decretum absolutum" - that may easily mislead, and that the reader finds himself fearing was intentionally adopted to wrap the Reformed doctrine at this point so far in a cloud. There can be indeed no other meaning attributed to the denial that unbelief and impenitence in the reprobate are "properly foreordained"; seeing that in the Reformed conception, fully shared by these theologians, God has foreordained all that comes to pass: and while no Reformed theologian would doubt that their own unbelief and impenitence are the "meritorious cause of the desertion and damnation" of the reprobate, yet the ambiguity of the language that follows - "and are reprobated by the justest of judgments" - certainly opens the way to some misconception. The suspicion can scarcely be avoided that the Thoruniensian theologians purposely used language here capable of a double sense. While naturally suggesting an interpretation consonant with sovereign preterition (negative reprobation), it is liable to be misread as if allowing that negative reprobation itself (preterition) found a meritorious cause in men's sins, which themselves lay wholly outside the foreordination (decree) of God.

It is worthy of note that in the midst of this gingerly treatment of the matter of reprobation, these theologians yet manage to let fall a phrase in passing which betrays their Declaration into an extremity of doctrine at another point to which no other formally framed Reformed Confession commits itself.14 The Declaration of Thorn in effect is the only formal Reformed Confession which asserts or implies that some of those who die in infancy are reprobated. This it does by the insertion into the clause dealing with this topic of the words "so far as adults are concerned." In "reprobation" (whatever that means with them - whether both "negative" and "positive" reprobation, or only the latter - makes no difference in the present matter), they say, God acts on the foresight not only of original sin, "but also, so far as adults are concerned, of unbelief," etc. God then "reprobates" not only adults on account of their sins, original and actual, but also infants on account of original sin alone. It is exceedingly interesting to observe a body of over-cautious men thus so intent on avoiding Scylla as to run straight into Charybdis. The reason, however, is not far to seek. They were primarily intent on vindicating themselves as "Augustinians" in the forum of the Romish judgment: they wished, that is, to appeal to the sympathies of the professed followers of Augustine in the Roman communion:15 while excessively careful, therefore, with respect to the whole matter of the prædestinatio duplex they felt no reason, as professed children of the durus pater infantum, to fear with respect to the fate of infants. The circumstances in which the Declaration was formed, in other words, is responsible for its weaknesses in both directions. Another instance of the ambiguous use of language in the interests of their desire to come forward as simply followers of Augustine is afforded by their treatment of "perseverance" (11): in this they oddly interchange the terms "justified," "regenerate," "elect." It can scarcely be thought that they really meant to teach that the justified may "fall from grace," or that the "regenerate" are different from "the elect" - their concatenation of the "golden chain" of salvation in their fundamental statement of faith forbids that: but it is obvious that their language here is open to that misinterpretation, and we fear it must be judged that it was intended to be so in deference to current "Augustinian" modes of expression in this matter. The similar obscuration of the distinction between the voluntas beneplaciti and voluntas signi (6) has its cause in the same effort. The Declaration of Thorn, in a word, while it approves itself as a soundly Reformed document, has been drawn up with an occasional over-subtle use of language which seems intended to obscure the truth that its authors nevertheless flattered themselves was expressed: and which is therefore liable to obscure it - to other readers than those whose eyes it was first intended to blind.

The Confessions which we have thus passed in review include, it will doubtless have been observed, especially German ones. Their peculiarities, however, have no national root: they are due rather to the fact, on the one hand, that this group of Confessions embraces the earliest, tentative efforts at creed-making in the Reformed Churches, and, on the other, that the circumstances in which the German Reformed Churches were placed made them the especial prey of unionistic efforts and apologetical temptations. It is scarcely fair to expect of documents framed, as the most of the documents of this class were, expressly to commend themselves to those of other faiths, quite the same sharpness of outline that might well be looked for elsewhere. Taken as a whole and judged from the point of view of the circumstances of their origin, this is an excellent body of Reformed documents, surprisingly true to the faith of the Reformed Churches: it is, after all, rather in language than in substance that they create difficulties. Meanwhile, however, there were other Reformed Confessions being framed under other stars, and in them the Reformed conceptions came, speaking generally of them as a class, to purer because less embarrassed expression. This series begins with the Confessional writings of John Calvin. It is not to be inferred, however, either that Calvin's teaching exercised no influence on the matter or phrasing of the Confessions already adduced, or that it introduced into the Reformed Churches any new attitude toward the doctrine of predestination. On the contrary, the commanding influence of Calvin penetrated to every corner of the Reformed Churches, and is traceable in all the creedal statements framed subsequently to his appearance at Geneva. And, on the other hand, in his doctrine of predestination he proclaimed nothing not common to all the Reformed leaders. So far from advancing in it beyond the teaching of Zwingli, Zwingli's modes of expression on this high mystery seemed rather to Calvin extreme and paradoxical, if not even lacking in discretion.16 So closely do his modes of expression regarding it resemble those of Bucer that the latest student of his doctrine of predestination17 is inclined to believe that he derived it from Bucer. Even Bullinger, through whatever pathway of doubt and hesitation, came ultimately to full agreement with him.18 Indeed, his doctrine of predestination was so little a peculium of Calvin's that it was originally, as we have seen, not even a specialty of the Reformed, but rather constituted the very hinge of the Reformation: and it was Luther and Melanchthon and Bucer and Peter Martyr who first put it forward as the determining element in the Reformation platform. What is due to Calvin is, at most, only the final establishment of the clear, cogent, and consistent expression of it in the Reformed creeds. His systematic genius perceived from the first its central importance to the system of truth on which the Reformation was based; and he grasped it with such full and clear apprehension, that in his own writings and wherever his influence dominated it was no longer easily possible to falter either in its apprehension or its statement, and efforts to speak softly regarding it or to pare it down to fit the desires of men measurably ceased. It is on this account only that in the Confessions that derive most directly from Calvin we see the whole Reformed doctrine of predestination come most fully and consistently to its rights.

Calvin was himself the author of a considerable number of documents of symbolical character: and although the place given in them to the doctrine of predestination varies widely according to the circumstances of each case, the doctrine embodied in those which give it any full expression appears in a singularly pure form. Even the first edition of the "Institutes," published in 1536, might fairly be so far counted among the symbolical books as its publication was determined by apologetic need, and its primary purpose was to testify to the world what the faith of the French Protestants really was. In it no separate treatment was accorded to predestination and what is said on this topic emerges only incidentally, very much as in Zwingli's "System of Faith," and as in that document also most fully in connection with the doctrine of the Church. But this incidental treatment is full enough to show that there was already present to Calvin's mind all the substance of the doctrine as elsewhere developed by him. His first formal exposition of it, under its own separate caption, occurs, however, not in the "Institutes," but in the earliest of his formal symbolical writings, the "Instruction and Confession of Faith in Use in the Church of Geneva," published in April, 1537. In this document the whole of Calvin's doctrine of predestination is set forth in clear if succinct outline. The starting-point is taken in the observed actual separation of mankind into the two classes of the saved and lost. This distinction is carried back at once to the secret eternal counsel of God, in which some are predestinated to be His children and heirs of the heavenly kingdom, while others are left to the just punishment of their sins. The reason why God has so discriminated between men is declared to be inscrutable by mortals, and men are dissuaded from prying into it: it is enough for us, we are told, to know that His action here, too, is holy and just, and therefore redounds to His praise. For the rest, it is for us to seek the certitude of our faith in the contemplation, not of election but of Christ, whom having we have all. On quite similar lines runs the much more meager teaching of the "Genevan Catechism" of 1545, in which there occur no separate questions and answers consecrated specifically to predestination, but only incidental allusions to the subject in the answers given under the topics of Providence and the Church. God, it is taught, is the Lord and governor of all things, "to whose empire all things are subject and whose nod they obey" - even the devil and godless men, all of whom are the ministers of His will, and are compelled even against their plans "to execute what has seemed good to Him." The Church, it is taught, is "the body and society of believers whom the Lord has predestinated to eternal life," all of whom, therefore, because elected of God, He justifies and sanctifies and will glorify. In similar fashion even the "Consensus Tigurinus" of 1549, which concerns itself formally with nothing but the doctrine of the Lord's Supper, alludes, nevertheless, to election - teaching that it is only to the elect that the sacraments actually convey grace - "for," it continues, "just as God enlightens unto faith no others than those whom He has foreordained to life, so by the hidden power of His Spirit He brings it about that the elect receive what is offered in the sacraments."

It is however, of course, chiefly in the "Genevan Consensus," called out in 1552 by the attacks on the doctrine of predestination made by Bolsec, that we find the fullest statement of Calvin's doctrine of predestination which has a claim to symbolical authority. This document is not in form a Confession, but is rather a polemical treatise written in Calvin's own name and given symbolical significance only by its publication in the name of the pastors of Geneva as a fair exposition of the Genevan doctine. It is wholly devoted to the defense of Calvin's teaching on predestination, and bears the significant title: "Of the eternal predestination of God by which out of men He has elected some to salvation and left others to their destruction," - in which, as we perceive, the prædestinatio gemina is made the very core of the doctrine. One needs to read but a little way into the treatise to perceive how strongly and indeed even passionately Calvin insisted upon this point. The reason for this is that he looked upon election not merely as the warrant for assurance of faith, but especially as the support and stay of the alone-efficiency of God in salvation: and that he perceived, with the clearness of vision eminently characteristic of his genius, that for the protection of monergistic salvation and the exclusion of the evil leaven of synergism, the assertion of the prædestinatio gemina is absolutely essential. In this we see accordingly the real key to the insistence on "sovereign reprobation" in the Calvinian formularies: the conviction had become a part of the very substance of Calvin's thought that "election itself unless opposed to reprobation will not stand" - that "the discriminating grace of God" was virtually set aside as the alone cause of salvation if it were not confessed that the segregation of some to receive the just award of their sins is as truly grounded in His holy will as salvation itself in His will of grace. The extended discussion and even the polemic form of this treatise enabled Calvin powerfully to commend his doctrine to every reader, and to fortify it by full expositions of Scripture: and doubtless it is to the influence of the "Consensus of Geneva" that much of the consistency with which the locus on predestination was treated in subsequent Calvinistic formularies is traceable.19 The very qualities which gave it its great influence, however, render it difficult to extract it briefly, and we may account ourselves fortunate that we have, through a discovery by the Brunswick editors of a brief series of "articles on predestination" in Calvin's hand, a succinct statement from himself of his whole doctrine, to which, though we have no evidence that they were ever given symbolical authority, we may fairly go as to a summary of his teaching. In these he affirms that God did not create man without having previously determined upon his destiny; that therefore the fall was included in God's eternal decree; and with it, the discrimination between the elect and reprobate portions of fallen mankind; which discrimination has no other cause than God's mere will: and therefore the choice of the elect cannot rest on foreseen faith, which is rather the gift of God in the execution of His decree of salvation, granted therefore to the elect and withheld from the reprobate: as is also the gift of Christ. Rising next to the general decree, he affirms that the will of God is the first and supreme cause of all things, and yet God is not in any sense the author of sin, which is offensive to Him and will receive His punishment, though He certainly makes use of all sinners too in executing His holy purposes.

There is also a series of Confessions from Calvin's hand in which a somewhat less prominent place and thorough statement are given to predestination, though certainly there is no faltering in the conception of it which is suggested when it is alluded to. Among these would be numbered the earliest Confession of the Genevan Church (1536), if we could attribute it in whole or in part to Calvin: it is ordinarily, however, and apparently justly, assigned to Farel. In it there is no separate treatment accorded to predestination, but the keynote of Calvin's theology is firmly struck in the attribution of all good in man to the grace of God - in the acknowledgment and confession that "all our blessings are received from the mercy of God alone, without any consideration of worthiness in us or merit of our works - for to them is due no return except eternal confusion." There is here presented in a single clause the entire premise on which rests Calvin's prædestinatio gemina. A Confession put by Calvin into the mouths of the students of Geneva, dating from 1559, may, however, be properly taken as a typical instance of this class. It is naturally reminiscent of the Genevan Catechism of 1545. Stress is laid in it on the divine government of the invisible spirits - whose differing fates are traced back to the divine appointment, and whose entire conduct is kept under the divine control, for the working out of His ends. In regard to special predestination emphasis is thrown on the divine origin of faith, which is confessed to be "a special gift, which is not communicated save to the elect, who have been predestinated before the creation of the world to the inheritance of salvation without any respect to their worthiness or virtue." To the same class belong also the three Confessions which Calvin prepared for the French Churches. The earliest and shortest of these is that which he seems to have drawn up in 1557 for the Church at Paris in vindication of itself against the calumnies that had been brought against it. In this there is only a brief confession that it is "of the mercy of God alone that the elect are delivered from the common perdition," and that the faith by which alone we are saved is itself a free and special gift granted by God to those to whom it seems good to Him to give it, and conveyed to them by the secret grace of the Holy Spirit. The Confession which he wrote to be presented in the name of the French Churches to Maximilian and the German Diet of 1562 is only a little more explicit. In this man's entire dependence on the undeserved mercy of God for salvation - offering no plea to God except his misery - is adverted to, and it is then affirmed that therefore the goodness of God displayed to us proceeds solely from His eternal election of us according to His sovereign good pleasure: comfort is found in this display of the divine goodness, but the fanaticism is repelled that we may rest on our election in such sort that we may neglect the means.

The third of the French Confessions drafted by Calvin after enlargement at the Synod of Paris, 1559, became the national Confession of the French Reformed Churches, and is therefore of far more significance than its predecessors. It is also somewhat fuller than they are, though following much the same line of thought. It confesses with all Calvin's clearness the universal Lordship of God and His admirable mode of serving Himself with devils and evil men, without the least participation in their evil: it draws the Christian man's comfort from the assurance of the sure protection of God over His people: it describes election as the eternal, immutable decree of God, proceeding on no foresight of works, by which He has determined to withdraw His chosen ones from the universal corruption and condemnation in which all men are plunged - "leaving," it is significantly added, "the rest in this same corruption and condemnation, to manifest in them His justice, as in the former He makes the riches of His mercy to shine forth." Of quite similar character to the Gallican Confession is the Belgic Confession (1561), the composition of the martyr hand of Guido de Brès, but in the section (16) on election somewhat revised by Francis Junius. In its statement of general predestination, indeed (13), even the language recalls that of the French Confession, whose statement it may be said only to repeat in an enriched form. The article on election, on the other hand, is somewhat less full than that in the Gallican Confession, but teaches the same type of doctrine: it is essentially an assertion of the prædestinatio bipartita as a manifestation at once of the divine mercy and justice.

Meanwhile across the Channel also the same influences were working. In England from 1536, when the Ten Articles - essentially Romish in contents - were published, the Reforming party were slowly working their way to a better faith, until, having at length found themselves, they published the Forty-two Edwardian Articles in 1553; of these the Elizabethan Thirty-nine Articles (1563-1571) are merely a slight revision, and in the article on Predestination a simple repetition. These "Articles of the Church of England" were prepared by a commission under the headship of Cranmer, to whom the chief share in their authorship seems to belong: but in the seventeenth Article, on Predestination, the influence of Peter Martyr seems distinctly traceable, and, whoever may have drawn it up, it may fairly be attributed in its substance ultimately to him. It confines itself to a statement of the gracious side of predestination - "predestination to life" and it consists of two parts, in the former of which "predestination to life" is defined, and in the latter of which the use of the doctrine is expounded. The definition of "predestination to life" is made to rest on an "election" here assumed as having antecedently taken place; and to include God's eternal and "constant" (that is, unchangeable) counsel, secret to us, negatively to deliver His elect from curse and damnation, and positively to bring them by Christ to everlasting salvation. The stress is therefore laid precisely on the doctrine of "perseverance," and the surety of the whole ordo salutis for those so predestinated is adduced in detail in support of its general assertion. The definition is remarkable not so much for what it asserts as for what it omits, and in what it omits not so much for what it rejects as for what, though omitting, it presupposes. The exposition of the proper use of the doctrine includes a description of its effect in establishing and confirming the faith of those who use it in a godly manner, and a warning against its abuse by the carnal and merely curious; the whole closing with an exhortation quite in Calvin's manner to make the revealed rather than the secret will of God our guide to life. The whole is not only soundly Reformed but distinctly Calvinian in substance: but its peculiar method of dealing with the more fundamental aspects of the doctrine by way of allusion, as to things fully understood and presupposed, lays it especially open to misunderstandings and wrestings, and we cannot feel surprise that throughout its whole history it has been subjected to these above most other creedal statements.

In the sister Church of Scotland, in the meantime, a Confession was hastily put together by Knox and his coadjutors and adopted by Parliament in 1560, which became the legal Confession of the Reformed Church of Scotland when that Church was established in 1567. This Confession contains an Article headed "Of Election" (8), but its doctrine of predestination must be gathered not merely from the somewhat meager statements of that Article, but also from other allusions under the captions especially of Providence and the Church. It asserts the universal rule of God's providence, directing all things "to sik end, as his Eternall Wisdome, Gudnes, and Justice hes appoynted them, to the manifestatioun of his awin glorie." It traces all our salvation to "the eternall and immutable decree of God." It declares that it is of the mere grace of God that we have been elected in Christ Jesus, before the foundations of the world were laid: and that our faith in Him is wrought solely by the Holy Ghost, who works in the hearts of the elect of God, and to whom is to be attributed not only faith, but all our good works. The invisible or true Church consists, it affirms, only of God's elect, but embraces the elect of all ages: while in the visible Church "the Reprobate may be joyned in the society of the Elect, and may externally use with them the benefites of the worde and Sacraments." The whole Reformed doctrine of predestination may indeed be drawn from this Confession: but, it must be allowed, it is not set forth in all its elements in explicit statements. In this respect the earlier creed of the English Church of Geneva (1558), which is thought also to have come from the hands of Knox, is more precise: and indeed this creed differs from all other Reformed creeds in the circumstance - unimportant but interesting - that in setting forth the double predestination it speaks of the foreordination to death first: "God, of the lost race of Adam, hath ordained some as vessels of wrath to damnation; and hath chosen others as vessels of His mercy to be saved." By the side of the Scotch Confession it is not unfair to place also as a witness to the Confessional doctrine of Reformed Scotland so widely used a Catechism as that of John Craig, which was endorsed by the General Assembly of 1590, and for a half century or more was the spiritual food on which the youth of Scotland was fed. In this admirable document the Calvinian doctrine of predestination is set forth with a completeness and crispness of expression that leaves nothing to be desired.

The subsequent history of the Confessional statement of predestination in England supplies a very interesting demonstration of the necessity of embodying in it, after Calvin's manner, the clear assertion of the prædestinatio bipartita, if the very essence of the doctrine is to be preserved. As long as a thorough Calvinism was dominant in the Church of England the inadequacy of the statement of predestination in the Thirty-nine Articles was, if not unremarked, at least the source of no danger to sound doctrine. Men in sympathy with the doctrine set forth readily read in the statement all its presuppositions and all its implications alike. Nobody of this class would question, for example, that in the mention in the last clause of "that will of God which we have expressly declared to us in the Word of God," that other will of God, hidden from us but ordering all things, was assumed - especially as, earlier in the statement, "His counsel, secret to us," is mentioned. Nobody would doubt that in "the predestination to life of those whom God hath chosen in Christ" specific individuals, the especial objects of God's electing grace, were expressly intended. Nobody would doubt that in the assertion of their choice "out of mankind," and predestination to deliverance from curse and damnation, it was peremptorily implied that there was a remainder of mankind left behind and hence predestinated unto the curse and damnation from which these were delivered. Nobody would doubt that in the assertion that these were by God's constant decree predestinated to be brought by Christ to everlasting salvation, the certitude of their actual salvation was asserted. But as soon as men in influential positions began to fall away from this Calvinistic faith, it was speedily discovered that something more than presupposition however clear, or implication however necessary; was needed in a Confessional statement which should serve as a barrier against serious error and a safeguard to essential truth.

The evil came, in the Church of England, naturally on the heels of a renewed assertion of sacerdotalism and sacramental grace: and it entrenched itself primarily under a plea of "Augustinianism," in distinction from "Calvinism." The high doctrine of Augustine as to the grace of the sacrament of baptism was appealed to, and his distinction between the regenerate and the elect revived; the inference was drawn that participation in grace is no warrant of final salvation, and election to grace no proof of predestination to glory; and this wedge was gradually driven in until the whole Reformed system was split up. Appeal was vainly made to the declarations of the Articles - they proved too indefinite to serve the purpose. After a sharp conflict it became very evident that what was needed was a new Confessional statement in which the essential elements of the doctrine should be given explicit assertion. It was this that was attempted in what is known as "The Lambeth Articles," prepared by William Whittaker, and set forth with the approval of the archbishops and certain other ecclesiastics, in the hope of leading the thought of the Church back to better channels. It was, however, now too late. The evil leaven had eaten too deeply to be now suddenly checked. It was easy to cry out that the very attempt to frame new Articles was a demonstration that the Calvinists were introducing new doctrine. The authority of the new Articles was, moreover, not complete. They were virulently assaulted. And in the failure to establish them as a Church formulary the cause of consistent Calvinism was for the time lost in the Church of England. Meanwhile better things were to be hoped of Ireland, and when, under the leading of Usher, a series of Articles were framed for that Church the lesson taught by the course of events in the sister Church of England was taken to heart and the chapter "Of God's Eternal Decree and Predestination" was strengthened by the incorporation into it, along with the essence of the English Articles, also the new matter of the Lambeth Articles. The curb thus laid upon the inroads of error in Ireland, however, it became one of the chief objects of the English party to destroy; and this ultimately they were enabled to do and the Articles of the Church of England were quietly substituted for those of the Church of Ireland in that land also. Thus the Calvinism of the Irish Church also was fatally wounded.

The whole object and intent of the Lambeth Articles (1595) was to conserve the threatened Calvinism of the Church of England: they do not constitute a complete creed, nor even a complete statement of the doctrine of predestination and its necessary implications. They were intended merely so to supplement the statement of the Thirty-nine Articles as to guard the Reformed doctrine from undermining and destruction. They confine themselves, therefore, to asserting clearly and without unnecessary elaboration the prædestinatio gemina, the independence of the divine decree of election on foreseen merit in man, the definite number of the elect; the assured final condemnation of the reprobate; the perseverance of the saints; the assurance of faith; the particularity of grace; the necessity of grace to salvation; and the impotency of the natural will to salvation. Not all of these paragraphs are incorporated into that one of the Irish Articles (1615) headed "Of God's Eternal Decree and Predestination," but only such as naturally fall under that caption, while the others are utilized in other portions of the document. This particular Article is disposed in seven paragraphs. In the first a clear assertion is made of God's general decree, with a careful guarding of it against current calumnies: this is original with this document. The second paragraph sets forth in language derived from the Lambeth Articles the special decree of predestination - the prædestinatio bipartita. The third paragraph defines "predestination to life" in language derived from the Articles of the Church of England. The fourth explains the cause of predestination to life as, negatively, nothing in man, and, positively, the good pleasure of God alone: it is taken from the Lambeth Articles. The fifth expounds the relation of predestination to the means of grace, and is taken from the Articles of the Church of England, with the addition of a clause from the Lambeth Articles covering the fate of the reprobate. The last two paragraphs are taken with modifications from the Articles of the Church of England and set forth the use of doctrine. The whole constitutes the high-water mark of the Confessional expression of this high mystery up to this time attained in the Reformed Churches. Nothing before it had been so prudently and so thoroughly compacted. It was rightly taken by the Westminster divines as the point of departure for the formation of their own chapter on this locus, and to its admirable guidance is largely due the greatness of the success of the Westminster men in dealing with this mystery in such combined faithfulness and prudence.

It was not, however, only in Britain that the Reformed were called upon to defend the treasures of truth that had been committed to them, from the inroads of that perpetual foe of the grace of God which is entrenched in the self-sufficiency of the natural heart. The rise of the Arminian party in Holland was the most serious direct assault as yet suffered by the Reformed theology. It was met by the Dutch Calvinists with a successful application of the expedient, an unsuccessful attempt to apply which in somewhat similar circumstances in England gave birth to the Lambeth Articles - by the publication, to wit, of Articles supplementary to the accepted Confession of the Church, which should more specifically guard the controverted points. The product of this counter-movement in the Dutch Churches is the Canons of Dort, published authoritatively in 1619 as the finding of the National Synod with the aid of a large body of foreign assessors, representative practically of the whole Reformed world. The Canons of Dort not only, therefore, were set forth with legal authority in the Netherlands, but possessed the moral authority of the decrees of practically an Ecumenical Council throughout the whole body of Reformed Churches. Their form is largely determined by the Remonstrance to which they are formally a reply: it is therefore, for example, that they are divided into five heads; and the whole distribution of the matter, as well as the especial points on which they touch, is due to the occasion of their origin. But for the points of doctrine with which they deal they provide a singularly well-considered, prudent, and restrained Reformed formulary. The first head of doctrine deals directly with predestination, the rest with the connected points of particular redemption, inability, irresistible grace, and perseverance. The matter under each head is disposed in two parts, in the former of which the doctrine concerned is positively set forth, while in the latter the corresponding errors that had been vexing the Churches are named and refuted.

The head on Predestination contains eighteen paragraphs in its positive portion, followed by nine more in the negative part. The starting-point is taken from a broad statement of the doctrine of original sin and man's universal guilt (§ 1). Then the provisions for man's salvation are adduced - the gift of Christ, the proclamation of the gospel, the gift of faith (§§ 2-6) - and it is pointed out that the gospel has actually been sent not to all men, but only to those "whom God will and at what time He pleaseth" (§ 3), and that faith is not in the power of all, but is again the gift of God to whom He pleases. Thus the obvious distinction existing among men is traced back to the divine will, and ascribed to "that decree of election and reprobation revealed in the word of God" (§ 6). The way being thus prepared, election is next defined (§ 7) and the details of the doctrine developed (§§ 7-14); after which reprobation is defined and guarded (§§ 15-16); and the whole concludes with a section on the destiny of children dying in infancy (§ 17), and another on the proper attitude of mind in the face of these holy mysteries (§ 18). The definition of election emphasizes its eternity, immutability, and absolute freedom. Its object is said to be fallen men, and its end redemption, with all the means of grace adjoined. The unity of the decree of election and of the means of salvation is asserted (§ 8). Its relation to all good motives in the creature is carefully explained as not that of effect but of cause (§§ 9, 10). Its particularity and unchangeableness are emphasized (§ 11). Finally, the use of the doctrine, in the attainment of assurance, as an incitement to good works, and for the comforting of the people of God, is adverted to (§§ 12-14). The decree of reprobation is then brought in as "peculiarly tending to illustrate and recommend to us the eternal and unmerited grace of election" and carefully defined (§ 15); and men are warned against misusing it so as to beget within themselves an ill-founded despair (§ 16). Little of importance is added to this positive statement in the sections on "the rejection of errors." These take up, one by one, the subtle Remonstrant statements and lay them by the adduction of appropriate Scriptures; they result only in strengthening and sharpening the positive propositions already asserted - particularly those that concern the immutability of God's electing counsel; its entire independence of foreseen faith or dispositions or works as causes or occasions; and its complete sovereignty in all its relations. The whole constitutes the fullest and one of the most prudent and satisfactory expositions of the Reformed doctrine of predestination ever given wide symbolical authority.

The Canons of Dort were adopted by the French Synods of 1620 and 1623; but soon afterward the French Churches were disturbed by the unsettling teachings of the school of Saumur. These teachings did not, indeed, trench upon the doctrine of predestination in its essence. Amyraut, to whom it fell among the innovating divines to deal with this matter, leaves nothing to be desired in his express loyalty to the definitions that had been the guides and guards of Reformed theology from the beginning: he copiously defended the whole Reformed doctrine as expressed by Calvin. The following is the way his position is set down in the "Declaration of the Faith of Moses Amyraut with reference to the Errors of the Arminians":20

In the second article, what the Arminians defend is that God, having decreed from all eternity to offer one and the same grace to all men, that they might in the powers of free will either receive or repudiate it; and having foreseen who would accept it and who would reject it; out of that foresight elected those whom He foresaw would make a good use of that grace and reprobated the rest. Thus, in their view, election is grounded in foresight of faith.

The orthodox, on the other hand, hold, that although God decreed that all men indifferently should be invited to faith, He nevertheless in His eternal counsel separates a given (certum) number of men from the rest, to be granted a singular grace, by means of which they may obey that invitation, and thus be led to salvation; while all the rest, they hold, are passed by by Him in the dispensation of that grace (cæteros omnes ab eo in dispensatione illius gratiæ prætermissos esse). They add further that the reason why God has so acted is to be traced solely to His most free good pleasure, and that there was no reason or cause of any kind whatsoever in those whom He elected why they should be elected; and there existed in those whom He reprobated no cause why they should be reprobated which did not equally exist in the others. So that election and reprobation are equally absolute and neither rests on the prevision of anything (nec ulla rei cuiusquam prævisione nitatur).

Amyraut embraces the same doctrine with the rest of the orthodox and has both explained and confirmed it with unrefuted reasons, drawn especially from the ninth chapter of Romans, in the thirteenth chapter of his "Defense of Calvin."

The point where the new French teachings affected the Reformed doctrine of predestination, therefore, was not in its substance, but in its relations - and more especially its relation in the ordo decretorum to the decree of the gift of Christ. Amyraut, desiring to teach a universal atonement, wished to place the decree of election in the order of thought subsequent instead of prior to the decree to give Christ to make satisfaction for sin, which satisfaction should therefore be conditional - to wit, on the faith which is the free gift of God to His elect. It was to meet this point of view, among other novelties broached by the Salmurian school, that at the beginning of the last quarter of the seventeenth century the "Helvetic Formula of Consent" was drawn up by Heidegger with the assistance of Turretin and Gernler (1675). Its prime object in the "Canons" that concern predestination, therefore, is to defend the Calvinistic order of decrees: this is set forth there with careful precision and emphasis, and the universalism of Amyraut's construction of the gift of Christ explicitly opposed and refuted. But in stating and arguing its case, the whole doctrine of election is very carefully restated, including the details of its eternity, its absoluteness, its independence on foresight of aught in man moving thereunto, its particularity and unchangeableness, and its implication of a reprobate mass left outside the reach of saving grace by the mere fact of election. The statement may well be looked upon as a typical statement of the Calvinistic position, embodying all the points which, in the course of a century and a half of creed-making, it had been found necessary to emphasize in order to bring out the doctrine in its full outline and to protect it from insidious undermining.

It is in the midst or, more precisely, near the end of this series of creedal expressions of the Reformed doctrine of predestination that the Westminster Confession takes its place. Subsequent in date to all of them, with the single exception of the Swiss Form of Consent, it gathers up into itself the excellences of all. More particularly it is founded upon the Irish Articles of 1615, which in turn were compounded of the English Articles and the Lambeth Articles; and through them it goes back respectively to the thought especially of Peter Martyr and of John Calvin. There is nothing in it which is not to be found expressly set forth in the writings of these two great teachers: and it gives their teachings form under the guidance of the best Confessional statements precedent to its own origin. It quite deserves the high praises it has received from the hand of one of the greatest and most deservedly honored of the fathers of the modern Presbyterian Church, who speaks of it with reiterated emphasis not only as "the best and fullest expression" of the Reformed system, but as "the ablest and ripest product of that Great Reformation, which was so fruitful in symbolic literature."21

II

After this introductory survey of their general character, we are now prepared to set out the text of the Confessional statements of the doctrine of predestination in the Reformed Churches. We shall extract the sections specifically devoted to the subject at large, but only so much of other matter as seems needful for understanding the nature of the Confessional recognition that is really given the doctrine. The Confessions are, in general, arranged in the order in which they have been mentioned in the preceding description of them.

ZWINGLI'S FIDEI RATIO (1530)22

Secondly. I know that that Supreme Divinity who is my God has freely made appointment concerning all things, so that His counsel does not depend on the occasioning of any creature,[WC III. i. a; ii.] since it is peculiar to marred human wisdom to determine on precedent discussion or example. But God, who from eternity to eternity contemplates all that is with a single and simple regard, has no need of any ratiocination, or expectation of acts, but, equally wise, prudent, and good, freely determines and disposes concerning all things-seeing that all that is is His[WC III. ii.] Hence, though He knowingly and purposely in the beginning made the man who should fall, He yet equally determined to clothe His own Son in human nature, that He might repair the fall. . . .

Thirdly. . . . The election of God, however, stands and remains firm, since those whom He elected before the constitution of the world He so elected as to choose to Himself through His Son; for He is as holy and just as He is good and merciful.[WC III. v. a.] All His works therefore savor of mercy and justice. Election therefore properly savors of both. It is of His goodness that He has elected whom He will;[WC III. v. a.] but it is of His justice that He has adopted His elect to Himself and joined them to Him through His Son as a victim offered to satisfy Divine justice for us. . . .

Sixthly. Of the Church, then, we think as follows: The term Church is variously used in the Scriptures. For those elect ones whom God has destined to eternal life.[WC III. v. a.] It is concerning this Church that Paul speaks when he says that it has no spot or wrinkle. This Church is known to God alone; for He only, according to the word of Solomon, knows the hearts of the sons of men. But, nevertheless, those who are members of this Church know themselves, since they have faith, to be elect and members of this first Church;[WC III. viii.] but they are ignorant with regard to other members. For it is thus written in the Acts: "And as many as were ordained to eternal life believed." Those, then, who believe are ordained to eternal life. But who truly believes no one knows but the one who believes. He then is certain that he is elected of God. For, according to the word of the Apostle, he has the Spirit as a pledge, by whom he is sponsored and sealed, and knows himself to be free and made a son of the family and not a slave. For that Spirit cannot deceive. As He declares God to be our Father, we call on Him as Father with assurance and boldness, being firmly persuaded that we shall obtain an eternal inheritance because we are sure that the Spirit of God has been poured out into our hearts. It is certain, then, that he who is thus assured and secure is elect; for those who believe are ordained to eternal life.[WC III. viii.] There are, however, many elect who have not faith. For the holy qeoto,koj, John, Paul - were they not elect while they were still infants or children, and even before the constitution of the world? Nevertheless, they did not know this, either from faith or from revelation. Matthew, Zacchaeus, the Thief, and the Magdalene - were they not elect before the constitution of the world, though they were ignorant of the fact until they were illuminated by the Spirit and drawn to Christ by the Father? From them, then, we may learn that this first Church is known to God only, and that those only who have firm and unwavering faith know that they are members of this Church. But, once again, the term Church is used universally of all who are enrolled in the name of Christ - that is, who have given in their names to Christ, a good part of whom have openly acknowledged Christ by confession or participation in the Sacraments while still in heart they are either alienated from Him or ignorant of Him. We believe therefore that all those who have confessed the name of Christ belong to this Church. Thus Judas was of the Church of Christ, and all those that draw back from Christ. For Judas was thought by the Apostles to be not less of Christ's Church than Peter or John, since he was no less so. But Christ knew who were His and who was the devil's. There is, then, this visible Church in this world, however unfit, and all who confess Christ are in it, though many of them are reprobates.[WC III. iii.; vii.] For Christ depicted that charming allegory of the ten virgins, five of whom were wise and five foolish. And this Church is sometimes called elect, although it is not that first Church which is without spot; but since it is, according to man's judgment, the Church of God, on account of public confession, it is therefore called elect. For we judge those to be believers and elect who give in their names to Christ. So Peter spoke when he said, " To the elect who are scattered abroad in Pontus," etc. There by the name of elect he means all who were of the churches to which he was writing, not those only who were properly God's elect: for as they were unknown to Peter, he was not able to write to them. Finally, the word Church is used for any particular congregation of this universal and visible Church. . . .

ZWINGLI'S EXPOSITIO CHR. FIDEI (1531)23

[103] It is therefore by the grace and goodness of God alone, which He has abundantly poured out on us in Christ, that eternal bliss is attained. What, then, shall we say of the passage of Scripture adduced above, in which a reward is promised for a draught of cold water and the like? This to wit: That the election of God is free and gratuitous; for He elected us before the constitution of the world, before we were born. God therefore did not elect us on account of works, but He elected us before the creation of the world.[WC III. v.] Our works therefore have no merit. But when He promises a reward for works it is after a human manner of speech; "for," says Augustine, "what wilt Thou, O good God, remunerate except Thine own work? For since it is Thou that workest in us both the willing and the doing, what is left for us to claim for ourselves? For . . ." etc.

THE TETRAPOLITAN CONFESSION (1530)24

III. Of Justification and Faith. . . . For since it is our righteousness and eternal life to know God and our Saviour, Jesus Christ; and it is so impossible for this to be the work of flesh and blood that it is needful for it to be born again anew; and we cannot come to the Son except by the Father's drawing, nor know the Father except by the Son's revelation; and Paul has written so expressly that it is not of us nor of works: - it is clear enough that our works can help nothing at all toward our becoming righteous from the unrighteous ones which we were born; because that, as we are by nature children of wrath and therefore unrighteous, so we avail to do nothing righteous or acceptable to God, but the beginning of all our righteousness and salvation must needs come from the mercy of God, who out of His grace (dignatione) alone and the contemplation of the death of His Son offers in the first instance the doctrine of truth and His Gospel, sending those who shall proclaim it; and then, since the natural man is not at all able, as Paul says, to perceive the things of God (I Cor. ii.), makes at the same time to arise in the darkness of our hearts the ray of His light, so that we may now have faith in the proclaimed Gospel, being persuaded of its truth by the supreme Spirit, and forthwith may, enjoying the testimony of this Spirit, call upon God in filial confidence, and say, Abba, Father, obtaining thereby sure salvation according to that saying, "Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord, shall be saved."

IV. Of Good Works proceeding out of Faith through Love. But we are unwilling that these things should be so understood as if we placed salvation and righteousness in the slothful thoughts of the mind, or in faith destitute of love, which is called fides informis; seeing that we are sure that no one can be righteous or be saved unless he loves God supremely and imitates Him zealously. For whom He foreknew, the same He also predestinated to become conformed to the image of His Son, to wit, as in the glory of a blessed life, so also in the cultivation of innocence and consummate righteousness, for we are His workmanship, created unto good works.[WC III. vi.] But no one is able to love God above all things, and to emulate Him with worthy zeal, except he do indeed know Him and receive the promise of all good things from Him. . . .

FIRST BOHEMIAN CONFESSION (1535)25

III. . . . Hence also they teach that there belong to this one God, supreme power, wisdom and goodness. There also belong to Him alone those most excellent works, suitable to no other than Him. These are the works of creation, redemption, conservation or sanctification. They teach, moreover, that this only true God, in one essence of divinity and blessed trinity of persons, is to be ever adored, venerated and worshiped with supreme reverence, honor and praise as the supreme Lord and King of all things, regnant eternally: and from His hand alone are all things to be looked for and sought. . . .

VI. . . . They teach, moreover, that through Christ men are mercifully justified freely by faith in Christ, and obtain salvation and remission of sins, apart from all human work and merit. Likewise they teach that His death and blood alone is sufficient for abolishing and expiating all the sins of all men. . . . They likewise teach that no one can have this faith by his own power, will or choice; since it is the gift of God who, where and when it seems good to Him, works it in man through the Holy Spirit.[WC III. vi. b.] . . .

VIII. Concerning the Holy Catholic Church, they teach first of all that the head and foundation of the Church is Christ the Lord by His own merit, grace and truth, in whom it is built up by the Holy Spirit, the Word and Sacraments. . . .

SECOND BOHEMIAN CONFESSION (1575)26

III. . . . And so He is the perfect Mediator, Advocate, and Intercessor with God the Father, Reconciler, Redeemer and Saviour of our Church, which by His Holy Spirit He collects, conserves, protects, and rules until the number of God's elect shall be completed.[WC III. vi. b.] . . .

XI. . . . But such a company of good and bad men is called and is the Catholic, Christian and Holy Church, only with respect to the good fishes and wheat - that is, the elect children of God and true and faithful Christians, all of whom as a whole and without exception are holy with a holiness imputed in Christ and begun in them by the Holy Spirit; and these only God deigns to call His sheep, the community of whom is really the bride of Christ, the house of God, the pillar and ground of the truth, the mother of all the faithful and the sole ark, outside of which there is no salvation. . . .

FIRST BASLE OR MÜHLHAUSEN CONFESSION (1534)27

II. Of Creation and Providence. We believe that God created all things by His Eternal Word, that is, by His only begotten Son; and sustains and animates all things by His Spirit, His own power: and therefore that God, as He created, so oversees and governs all things. Gen. i. 1; John i. 3; I Chron. xxix. 11, 12; Acts ii. 23.

III. Of Predestination. Hereupon we confess that God, before He had created the world, had elected all those to whom He would give the inheritance of eternal salvation[WC III. v. a.] Rom. viii. 29, 30, ix. 11-13, xi. 5, 7; Eph. i. 4-6. . . .

VI. And although man by the same fall became liable to damnation and inimical to God, God nevertheless never ceased to care for the human race. This is witnessed by the patriarchs; the promises before and after the flood; the law likewise given by God to Moses; and the holy prophets. Rom. v. 16; Gen. xii. 1, xiv. 19, 20, xv. 1; Gen. iii. 15, xxi. 12, xxvi. 3, 4, 24, xxviii. 13, 14, 15.

FIRST HELVETIC OR SECOND BASLE CONFESSION (1536)28

9. Free Will. Thus, we attribute free will to man in such a manner that though we are conscious of both knowing and willing to do good and evil, we are able indeed of our own motion to do the evil, but are unable to embrace and pursue the good, except as illuminated by the grace of Christ and impelled by His Spirit. For God it is who works in us both the willing and the doing, according to His good pleasure[WC III. vi.] And it is from God that salvation comes, from us perdition. Phil. ii.; Hos. xiii.

10. The Eternal Counsel of God Concerning the Reparation of Man. For this man, therefore, devoted by his fault to damnation, and incurring righteous indignation, God the Father has nevertheless never ceased to care. And this is made plain by the primal promises, and by the whole law (which arouses and does not extinguish sin) and by Christ who was ordained and set forth for this very purpose. Eph. i. ; Rom. vii.

THE HUNGARIAN CONFESSION (1557-1558)29

Out of the Word of God we call Him Father, God and Jehovah, having life in Himself, existent from none, wanting all beginning, who from eternity without any beginning or change begot out of His own hypostasis as it were the character and splendor of His glory, the only begotten Son - through whom He from eternity foreknew and disposed all things,[WC III. i. a.] and in the beginning created, and conserves them, and saves His elect by justifying them, but condemns the impious.[WC III. iii.] . . .

Thirdly, [eternity] is used of a continuous time - that is, of the period in which the world was created, of the days in which the world was made. Hence it is said: He elected us before times eternal, that is, He elected before the seven days of creation, before creation, from eternity (Eph. i. 2, 3, 5; II Tim. i. 2, 3).[WC III. v.] Fourthly, it is used of the infinite salvation of the pious and the torment of the impious: and this salvation and condemnation, though they have a beginning in the elect and the vessels of wrath, nevertheless want an end. . . .

As it is impossible that things that are in direct repugnance to one another and are mutually destructive can be the efficient and formal cause of their contraries; as light is not the cause of darkness, nor heat of cold (Psalms 5, 46, 61, 66, 80, 84, 114, 135); so it is impossible for God, who is Light, Righteousness, Truth, Wisdom, Goodness, Life, to be the cause of darkness, sin and falsehood, ignorance, blindness, malice, and death; but Satan and men are the cause of all these. For God cannot ex se and per se do things that He prohibits and on account of which He condemns.[WC III. i. b.] . . .

As He who justly renders to those who work equally an equal reward, and who gives to the undeserving, out of grace and voluntarily, what He will, is not a respecter of persons; so God had acted justly, if out of debt, according to justice and His own law, He had rendered death and condemnation as the stipend of sin to all who deserve it. And on the other hand, when for the sake of His son, out of the plenitude of His grace and in His freedom of will, He gives to the undeserving righteousness and life,[WC III. v.] this is not prosopoliptis, that is, He is not a respecter of persons, as it is said: "Take what is thine and what thou hast deserved and go: Is it not lawful for me to do what I please with my own? Is it not thy eye that is evil? not my eye, because I am good" (Matt. xx.). . . .

We confess Christ . . . as Redeemer for these reasons. . . . Then, too, that He might make satisfaction for the life-giving mercy of God by the omnipotence of the same Word and only begotten Son of God, according to the eternal election made from eternity in Christ (Eph. i).[WC III. v.]

SECOND HELVETIC CONFESSION (1562, 1566)30

VI. Of the Providence of God. By the providence of this wise, eternal and omnipotent God, we believe that all things in heaven and in earth and among all the creatures are conserved and governed. . . . Meanwhile, however, we do not despise the means by which divine providence operates, as if they were useless. . . . For God, who has determined its own end to everything,[WC III. i. a.] has ordained both the principle and the means by which it shall attain its end. The Gentiles attribute things to blind fortune or uncertain chance. . . .

VIII. Of Man's Fall, Sin, and the Cause of Sin. . . . We condemn, moreover, Florinus and Blastus, against whom also Irenæus wrote, and all who make God the author of sin. . . . There is enough vice and corruption in us for it to be by no means necessary for God to infuse into us new and increased depravity. Accordingly when God is said in Scripture to harden, to blind, and to give over to a reprobate mind, it is to be understood that He does this by a righteous judgment, as a just judge and avenger. In fine, whenever God is said or seems to do any evil in Scripture, it is not so said because it is not man that does the evil, but because God, who could prevent it if He wished, in just judgment permits it to be done and does not prevent it; or because He has made a good use of the evil of men, as in the case of the sins of Joseph's brethren; or because He reins in the sins, that they may not break out too widely and riot.[WC III. i. b.] St. Augustine, in his "Enchiridion," says: "In a marvelous and ineffable way, that does not take place apart from His will, which yet takes place against His will. For it would not be done, if He did not permit it to be done. Nor is it unwillingly that He permits it but willingly. Neither would the Good One permit evil to be done, were not the Omnipotent One able to bring good out of the evil."

Remaining questions - whether God willed Adam to fall, or impelled him to his fall, or why He did not prevent his fall, and the like, we account (except, perhaps, when the improbity of heretics or other importunate men compel them too to be explained out of God's Word, as has been done not seldom by pious doctors of the Church) among those curious inquiries which the Lord prohibits, lest man should eat of the forbidden fruit and his transgression be punished; but things that take place are certainly not evil with respect to the providence of God, God's will and power, but with respect to Satan and our will in opposition to God's will[WC III. i. b.] . . .

X. Of the Predestination of God and the Election of the Saints. God has from eternity freely and of His mere grace, with no respect of men, predestinated or elected the saints whom He will save in Christ,[WC III. v. a.] according to that saying of the Apostle: "God hath chosen us in Himself before the foundations of the world were laid" (Eph. i. 4) ; and again: "Who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace, which was given unto us through Jesus Christ before times eternal, but is now made manifest by the appearance of our Saviour Jesus Christ" (II Tim. i. 9, 10).

Therefore, not without means,[WC III. vi. a.] though not on account of any merit of ours, but in Christ and on account of Christ, God elected us; so that those who are now ingrafted into Christ by faith the same also are elect;[WC III. viii.] but they are reprobates, who are without Christ, according to that saying of the Apostle: "Prove yourselves whether you are in faith. Know ye not your own selves that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates?" (II Cor. xiii. 5).

In fine, the saints are elected by God in Christ to a sure end, which very end the Apostle sets forth when he says:[WC III. v. a.] "He has chosen us in Him that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love; and He has predestinated us that He might adopt us through Jesus Christ to Himself to the praise of the glory of His grace" (Eph, i. 4, 5, 6).

And although God knows who are His,[WC III. iv.] and mention is now and then made of the fewness of the elect, we must nevertheless hope well of all, and not rashly number any among the reprobates. Paul certainly says to the Philippians: "I give thanks for you all" (and he is speaking of the whole Philippian Church), "that you have come into the fellowship of the Gospel, being persuaded that He who has begun a good work in you will perfect it, as it is right for me to think this of you all" (Phil. i. 3-7).

And when the Lord was asked (Luke xiii.) whether there are few that shall be saved, the Lord does not say in reply that few or more are to be saved or lost, but rather exhorts that each should strive to enter in at the strait gate, as if He should say, It is not for you to inquire curiously about these things, but rather to endeavor to enter heaven by the straight path.[WC III. viii.]

Wherefore we do not approve of the wicked speeches of some who say, "Few are elected, and as it does not appear whether I am in that number of the few, I will not defraud my nature." Others say, "If I be predestinated or elected by God, nothing can hinder me from a salvation already certainly decreed, no matter what I may ever commit; but if I be in the number of the reprobate no faith or repentance either will help me, since the appointment of God cannot be changed: therefore all teachings and admonitions are useless." For to these that saying of the Apostles is opposed: "The servant of the Lord must be apt to teach, instructing them that are contrary minded, if at any time God will give them repentance unto the knowledge of the truth, that they may escape from the snare of the devil who are held captive by him to his will" (II Tim. ii. 24-26).

But Augustine also, in his work on the "Blessing of Perseverance," shows that there are to be preached both the grace of free election and predestination, and salutary admonitions and doctrines. We, therefore, condemn those who seek outside of Christ whether they are elect and what God had decreed concerning them from all eternity.[WC III. viii. a.]

For the preaching of the Gospel must be heard and faith be given it: and it is to be held indubitable that thou art elect if thou believest and art in Christ. For the Father has laid bare to us in Christ the eternal sentence of His predestination, as we have just shown from the Apostle (II Tim. i.).[WC III. viii. a.] There is to be taught, therefore, and considered before all things, how great the love of the Father toward us is that is revealed to us in Christ; and what the Lord preaches to us daily in the Gospel must be heard - how He calls and says: "Come to me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt. xi. 28) ; "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten for the world, that every one who believeth in Him should not perish but have eternal life" (John iii. 16); again: "It is not the will of the Father that any one of these little ones should perish" (Matt. xviii. 14).

Let Christ then be the mirror in which we contemplate our predestination. We shall have a sufficiently clear and sure witness that we are written in the Book of Life, if we participate in Christ, and He is ours in true faith, and we His. Let it console us in the temptation of predestination, than which there is scarcely any more perilous, that the promises of God to believers are universal and that He Himself has said: "Ask and ye shall find. Every one that asketh, receiveth" (Luke xi. 9, 10):[WC III. viii.] in fine, that we pray with the whole Church of God: "Our Father which art in Heaven": and that we are ingrafted into the body of Christ by baptism, and are repeatedly fed in the Church with His body and blood to life eternal. Confirmed by these things we are commanded, according to this Precept of Paul, "to work out our salvation with fear and trembling" (Phil. ii. 12).

XIII. Of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. . . . For God has from eternity predestinated to save the world through Christ, and has manifested this His predestination and eternal counsel to the world through the Gospel (II Tim. i. 9, 10). Whence it is clear that the evangelical religion and doctrine is the most ancient of all, among all that have ever been, are or shall be. And hence we say that they all err dreadfully and speak unworthily of the eternal counsel of God, who describe the evangelical doctrine and religion as lately arisen and a faith scarcely thirty years old.

HEIDELBERG CATECHISM (1563)31

I, with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ, who with His precious blood has fully satisfied for all my sins, and redeemed me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must work together for my salvation. Wherefore, by His Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me heartily willing and ready henceforth to live unto Him (1).

The eternal Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who of nothing made heaven and earth, with all that in them is, who likewise upholds and governs the same by His eternal counsel and providence, is for the sake of Christ His Son my God and my Father, in whom I so trust as to have no doubt that He will provide me with all things necessary for body and soul; and further, that whatever evil He sends upon me in this vale of tears, He will turn to my good; for He is able to do it, being Almighty God, and willing also, being a faithful Father (26).

[The providence of God is] the almighty and everywhere present power of God, whereby, as it were by His hand, He still upholds heaven and earth, with all creatures, and so governs them that herbs and grass, rain and drought, fruitful and barren years, meat and drink, health and sickness, riches and poverty, yea, all things, come not by chance, but by His fatherly hand (27).[WC III. i.]

[Christ] is ordained [verordnet] of God the Father, and anointed with the Holy Ghost, to be our Chief Prophet and Teacher, who fully reveals to us the secret counsel and will of God concerning our redemption. . . . (31).

I look for the selfsame One . . . to come again as Judge from heaven; who shall cast all His and my enemies into everlasting condemnation, but shall take me, with all His chosen ones, to Himself, into heavenly joy and glory (52).

The Son of God from the beginning of the world to its end, by His Spirit and Word, out of the whole human race, gathers, protects and preserves for Himself unto eternal life, in the unity of the true faith, an elected communion;[WC III. v.] and I am and ever shall remain a living member of the same (54 - Definition of the "Holy Catholic Christian Church").

ANHALT REPETITION (1581)32

.     .     .     .     .

BRANDENBURG CONFESSIONS33

1. The Confession of Sigismund (1614)

In the Article on eternal election or predestination to eternal life His Electoral Highness acknowledges and confesses that it is the most comfortable of all, on which chiefly rest not only all other Articles, but also our blessedness - that, to wit, God the Almighty, out of His pure grace and mercy, without any respect to man's worthiness, merit or works,[WC III. v. b.] before the foundations of the world were laid, ordained and elected to eternal life all who constantly believe in Christ,[WC III. v. a.] knows also and acknowledges them as His, and as He has loved them from eternity, so endows them also out of pure grace with justifying faith and strong endurance to the end, so that no one shall pluck them out of the hand of Christ and no one separate them from His love, and all things, good and bad alike, must work together for good to them, because they are called according to the purpose.[WC III. vi. a, b.] Likewise also that God has, according to His strict righteousness, eternally passed by all who do not believe in Christ, and prepared them for the everlasting fire of hell, as it stands expressly written:[WC III. vii. a, b.] "He who does not believe in the Son is judged already," "He who does not believe in the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides (and therefore it is already) on him" - not as if God were a cause of the sinner's destruction, not as if He had pleasure in the sinner's death, not as if He were an author and inciter of sin,[WC III. i. b.] not as if He did not wish all to be saved, for the contrary is to be found everywhere in the Holy Scriptures; but that the cause of sin and destruction is to be sought only in Satan and the godless, who are repudiated to damnation on account of their unbelief and disobedience to God. And moreover that of no man's salvation is it to be doubted so long as the means of salvation are used, because it is not known to any man at what time God will mightily call His own, or who will hereafter believe or not, since God is not limited to any time and does all things according to His pleasure. And, on the other hand, His Electoral Highness rejects all and every of such partly blasphemous and partly dangerous opinions and assertions as that we must climb up into heaven and there search out in a special register or in God's secret treasury and council chamber who are predestinated to eternal life and who not; for God has sealed the Book of Life, and no creature can pry into it (II Tim. ii. 19). Likewise [he rejects] that God has elected some, propter fidem prævisam, on account of foreseen faith, which is Pelagian;[WC III. v. b.] and that He does not desire the greater part to be saved, but condemns them absolutely, nakedly, without any cause, and therefore not on account of sin, for certainly the righteous God has never determined on damnation except for sin,[WC III. vii. b.] and therefore the decree of reprobation to damnation is not to be regarded as an absolutum decretum, a free, naked decree, as the Apostle says of the rejected Jews: "Behold the branches were broken off on account of their unbelief." Again [he rejects], that the elect may live just as they choose, and, on the other hand, nothing can help those that are not elect, no Word, no Sacrament, no piety; for certainly from the Word of God it is clear that no good tree brings forth evil fruit, and that God has elected us that we should be holy and unblamable before Him in love (Eph. i. 4); and that whoever abides as a good branch in the vine of Christ brings forth much fruit; and that whosoever does not abide in Him shall be cut off as a branch and wither, and men gather them and cast them into the fire, and they must burn, as Christ the Lord Himself says (John xv. 5-6).

2. The Leipzig Colloquy (1631)

And although the doctrine of eternal election is not expressly treated in the Augsburg Confession, nevertheless it has seemed wise to the theologians of both sides to set forth their doctrine and meaning on this point also, concerning which there has been hitherto much strife. The Brandenburgan and Hessian theologians declare therefore the following to be their unanimous doctrine and belief, to wit:

That God chose from eternity in Jesus Christ out of the lost race of man, not all, but some men,[WC III. v. a.] whose number and names are known to Him alone,[WC III. iv.] whom He in His own time, through the power and operation of His Word and Spirit, illuminates and renews to faith in Christ; and also enlightens in the same faith to the end and finally makes eternally blessed through faith.[WC III. vi.]

That He moreover found or foresaw no cause or occasion or precedent means or condition of such choice in the elect themselves - whether their good works or their faith or even the first holy inclination or emotion or consent to faith, but that all that is good in them flows originally from the pure free grace of God which is eternally ordained and given to them alone in Jesus Christ.[WC III. v. b.]

That also God from eternity ordained and reprobated those who persevere in their sins and unbelief to eternal damnation,[WC III. viii.] not out of such an absolutum decretum, or naked will and decree, as if God either from eternity ordains or in time creates the greater part of the world or any men, without regard to their sins and unbelief, to eternal damnation, or to the cause thereof; but the reprobation as well as the damnation takes place out of His just judgment, the cause of which is in man himself, to wit, his sin, impenitence and unbelief;[WC III. vii. b.] that therefore the entire fault and cause of the reprobation and damnation of the unbelieving is in themselves; the entire cause, however, of the election and blessedness of believers is alone the pure and mere grace of God in Jesus Christ,[WC III. v. a.] according to the word of the Lord: "O Israel! thou dost bring thyself into unhappiness: thy salvation, however, stands in me alone."

That, therefore, further, each should be assured of and should know his election and blessedness, not a priori from the hidden counsel of God, but only a posteriori from the revealed Word of God, and from his faith and the fruits of his faith in Christ;[WC III. viii.] and that it does not at all follow, as the wicked world mockingly misrepresents this high Article, and much less can it be taught, that "whoever is elected may persevere in his godlessness as long as he chooses, and nevertheless he must be saved," while "whoever is not elected, even though he should believe in Christ and live a godly life, must nevertheless be damned."

If, however, any would search and pry more deeply into this high mystery and seek for other reasons besides God's free, gracious, and righteous will why God has nevertheless actually brought to faith only some from among men who are alike by nature, and all of whom He could assuredly by His Almightiness have brought to faith and salvation, while on the other hand He has left the rest in their sins and voluntary, obstinate impenitence and unbelief: - then they [the Brandenburg and Hessian theologians] say with the Apostle: "Who art thou, O man, that would dispute with God? Has not the potter power, out of one impure mass of sin, to make one vessel to honor of pure grace, and another to dishonor of just judgment? O the depth of the riches and knowledge of God! How inconceivable are His judgments and how unsearchable His ways! Who has become His counselor? Or who has known His mind? Or who has given to Him first that it may be recompensed to him?"

34On the other hand the Saxon theologians declare themselves in the following fashion:

1. That God from eternity, and before the foundation of the world was laid, elected in Christ not all, but some men to eternal blessedness.

2. That the number and names of the elect are known to God alone, as the Lord says: "He knows His sheep," and, as St. Paul says: "God knows His own."

3. That God from eternity elected those of whom He saw that they in time would, through the power and operation of His Word and Spirit, believe in Christ and persevere in their faith to the end; and although the elect may for a while fall away from the grace of God, yet it is impossible that this should happen finaliter and persistently.

4. That God, in election, found no cause or occasion of such election in the elected themselves, not even a first holy inclination, emotion or consent to faith; but that all that is good in the elect flows originally from the pure free grace of God, which is given them in Christ from eternity.

5. That God from eternity ordained to eternal damnation and reprobation those only whom He knew would persevere in their sins and unbelief.

6. That this reprobation has not at all taken place out of an absolutum decretum or naked decree and will, as if God had condemned any one out of His sole pleasure, without regard to man's unbelief. For there was no such naked decree in God, by virtue of which He has either from eternity ordained or in time created either the greater part of mankind or even only a single man to eternal damnation or to the cause thereof.

7. That, however, although so many men are eternally lost and condemned, this happens certainly out of the just judgment of God; but the cause of this condemnation is in the men themselves, to wit, in their dominating sins, their unbelief and impenitence; that therefore the entire fault and cause of the reprobation and condemnation is in themselves, while the entire cause of the election and blessedness of believers is the pure and mere grace of God in Jesus Christ, according to the Word of the Lord: "O Israel! thou dost bring thyself into unhappiness; thy salvation, however, stands in me alone" (Hos. xiii.).

8. That each one should and may be assured of his election and blessedness, not a priori out of the hidden counsel of God, but only a posteriori, out of the revealed Word of God and out of his faith in Christ; and that it does not at all follow as the wicked world mockingly misrepresents this high Article, and much less can or should it be taught that "Whoever is elected may persevere in his godlessness as long as he chooses, and nevertheless he must and will be saved," while "Whoever is not elected must therefore be damned, although he ever so surely believes in Christ or lives ever so godly a life."

9. That in this high mystery of election there are many questions mooted by men which we in this mortality cannot understand, nor answer otherwise than out of St. Paul: "Who art thou, O man, that disputest with God?" (Rom. ix.). Again: "O the depths of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How inconceivable are His judgments and how unsearchable His waysl Who has become His counselor? And who has known His mind? Or who has given to Him that it may be recompensed him?" (Rom. xi.).

10. Concerning all this the Saxon theologians have declared themselves, that they also further hold as correct and accordant with the Holy Scriptures all that is taught concerning this Article in the Book of Concord. And that God in particular chose us in Christ, out of grace indeed, but in such a manner that He foresaw who would believe in Christ perseveringly and in verity, and whom God foresaw that they would so believe, them He also ordained and elected to make blessed and glorious.

3. The Declaration of Thorn (1645)

Of Grace. 1. From sin and death there is no redemption or justification through the powers of nature, or through the righteousness of the law, but only through the grace of God in Christ, who has redeemed us, when dead in sins, from wrath and the curse, by making full satisfaction by the unique sacrifice of His death and the merit of His perfect obedience for our sins, and not for ours only but for the sins of the whole world:

2. Who has efficaciously called us, when redeemed, by the Word of the gospel and the Spirit of grace, out of the kingdom of sin and death into the kingdom of grace and life; and has sealed us by the sacraments of grace:

3. Who justifies us or absolves us from sins and adopts us as sons, when we are called and are sincerely repentant, on account of the merit of Christ alone, apprehended by a living faith; and of mere grace imparted to believers, as members of Christ:

4. And likewise by the Spirit of love poured out into our hearts, daily more and more renews us to a sincere zeal for holiness and new obedience, and sanctifies us or makes us righteous and holy:

5. Who, finally, will by the same grace eternally glorify us, persevering to the end of life in faith and love, as heirs of the kingdom of heaven, not out of any merit but out of the grace promised in Christ:

6. And so also will paternally, on account of Christ, reward our good works, done by the grace of the Spirit in faith in Christ and in love, with a most abundant, nay infinite reward, beyond and above their merit:

7. Even as[WC III. vi.] He has from eternity elected us in Christ, not out of any foreseen faith or merit of works or disposition,[WC III. v. b.] but out of mere and undeserved grace,[WC III. v. a.] as well to that same grace of redemption, vocation, justification, adoption and persevering sanctification which He has given in time,[WC III. vi. b.] as to the crown of eternal life and the glory[WC III. v. a.] which is to be participated in by these means.[WC III. vi. a.]

8. The rest, who hold back the truth in unrighteousness and contumaciously spurn the offered grace of Christ, being rejected in righteous judgment.[WC III. vii.]

From this doctrine of grace, in which the whole system of our salvation is contained, thus summarily set forth:

1. We hope it is manifest that we by no means accord with Socinus, who blasphemously denies and oppugns the satisfaction and merit of Christ, and therefore the very redemption made in His blood.

2. We deny, however, that beyond the death of Christ any, even the least part, of our redemption and salvation can be attributed to sacrifices, or merits, or satisfactions, whether of saints or of ourselves.

3. We deny also that unregenerate men, by any merit of congruity, if they do what is in them to do, dispose themselves to the first grace of vocation.

4. Nor do we suspend the efficacy of the grace of vocation on the free will of man, as if it were not God by His special grace but man by his own will that makes himself to differ.

5. Yet we are falsely accused as if we denied the sufficiency for all of the death and merit of Christ, or diminished its power, when rather we teach the same that the Council of Trent set forth, Sess. 6, Cap. 3, to wit: "Although Christ died for all, all nevertheless do not receive the benefit of His death, but those only to whom the merit of His passion is communicated." The cause or fault, moreover, why it is not communicated to all we confess to be by no means in the death or merit of Christ, but in men themselves.

6. We are also falsely accused: As if we taught that not all those who are called by the Word of the gospel are called seriously and sincerely or sufficiently by God for repentance and salvation, but the most only simulatingly and hypocritically by a mere external will signi, with which no internal will beneplaciti is present, as from one who does not will the salvation of all. We most solemnly protest that we are very far removed from such an opinion, distorted against us from the ill-understood or perhaps even ill-considered words of some, and that we attribute to the Thrice-blessed God supreme verity and sincerity in all His sayings and doings, and above all in the Word of the grace that calls to salvation, and do not imagine any contradictory wills in Him.

7. As if we denied all inherent righteousness to believers, and held that they are justified by an external imputation of the righteousness of Christ alone, which is without any internal renovation. When rather we teach that righteousness is imputed only to those that repent and believe in Christ with true faith, and at the same time by the same faith contrite hearts are vivified by the Holy Spirit, are excited to ardent love for Christ and zeal for new obedience, are cleansed from depraved passions and so the righteousness and holiness of a new life are begun and daily advanced. This only we add, that in this inherent righteousness of our own, because it is imperfect in this life, no one can stand before the just judgment of God, or trust in it, so as to be justified or absolved by it from liability to death, but through and on account of the perfect righteousness and merit of Christ alone, apprehended by a living faith.

8. As if we imagined that a man is justified by faith only, which is without works and which only believes that sins are remitted to it for Christ's sake, although it abides without any repentance for them; when rather we confess that such a faith is wholly false, and that a man is not only not justified by it, but is even more gravely condemned on account of it, as transforming the grace of God into license for sinning. What we say is that that is true justifying faith which embraces with a practical or fiducial assent the promises of the Gospel, by which remission and life in Christ are offered to the repentant, and applies it to oneself by a truly contrite heart, and which is therefore efficacious through love. We say that only it justifies; not because it is alone, but because only it apprehends the promise of the Gospel and therefore the very righteousness of Christ, through and on account of which alone we are freely, without any merit of our own, justified.

9. As if by this doctrine we took away zeal for good works, or denied their necessity; when rather it is manifest from what has already been said, that neither justifying faith nor justification itself can possibly exist in adults without sanctification and zeal in good works. And in this sense we acknowledge that they are altogether necessary for salvation, although not as meritorious causes of justification or salvation.

10. As if we held that the precepts of Christ can in no way be kept by believers; when rather we teach that they not only can be kept, not indeed in men's own powers, but by the grace of the Holy Spirit, but also that they ought altogether to be kept by all, and that not merely by an inefficacious vow or purpose, but also by the deed itself, and that by the sincere and persevering effort of a whole life. Nevertheless, they are not and cannot be kept in this life by any one so perfectly that we can by our works satisfy the law of God and fulfill it in all respects, but have need daily to ask humbly of God, out of a sense of our imperfection and weakness, forgiveness of varied lapses and derelictions.

11. As if we held that the justified cannot even for a moment lose God's grace or the assurance of it, or the Holy Spirit Himself, though they indulge themselves in sinful pleasures; when on the contrary we teach that even the regenerate, as often as they fall into sins against their conscience, and for as long as they continue in them, do not for that time retain either living faith or the justifying grace of God, or yet the assurance of it or the Holy Spirit, but incur new liability to wrath and eternal death, and will certainly, moreover, be damned, unless they are again renewed to repentance by the operation of the special grace of God (which we do not doubt will take place in the case of the elect).[WC III. vi.]

12. We deny, furthermore, that faith in Christ justifies only dispositively, preparatively, initially, because, to wit, it disposes to love and other virtues, that is to say, to inherent righteousness.

13. We deny also that by that inherent righteousness of our own, we are so justified that we are absolved from liability to death by and on account of it before the judgment of God, are adopted as sons and are pronounced worthy of eternal life; in which forensic sense the word Justification is used by the Holy Ghost in this doctrine. For although there is a sound sense in which it may be said that believers are justified, that is, are made righteous and holy, by love and other infused virtues, this righteousness nevertheless is imperfect in this life and can never stand, as aforesaid, before the severe judgment of God; and this alone is what is under consideration in this doctrine.

14. Hence, also, we do not agree with those who teach that the regenerate by good works make satisfaction to the justice of God for their sins, and properly merit remission or life, and that indeed out of condignity, or out of the intrinsic worthiness of their works, or their equality with the rewards: every covenant, moreover, or promise, as some wish, being excluded.

15. Nor yet with those who teach that the regenerate can keep the law of God perfectly in this life, with a perfection not only of parts but also of degrees, so that they live without any sin, such as is in itself and its own nature mortal: and even that they can do works of supererogation transcending the perfection of the law, and by them merit not for themselves only but for others as well.

16. Nor yet with those who teach that no one without special revelation can certainly know that he has obtained the grace of God with such certitude that he cannot be mistaken; and that all ought to be always in doubt of grace. We, on the other hand, although we confess that even believers and the justified ought not rashly and securely to presume on the grace of God, and are afflicted often with various troubles and doubts, nevertheless teach out of the Scriptures that they both can and ought to strive for and by the help of the Divine grace attain in this life that certitude in which the Holy Spirit witnesses with our spirit that we are sons and heirs of God: and this testimony cannot be false, though not all who boast of the Spirit of God really have this testimony.[WC III. viii.]

17. Finally we teach indeed that not all men are elect, and that those who are elected are elected not out of a foreseen merit of works or a foreseen disposition to faith in them, or assent of will, but out of mere grace in Christ;[WC III. v. a. and b.] and that moreover the number of the elect and of the saved is certain with God.[WC III. iv.]

18. Meanwhile we affirm that an opinion alien to our thought is attributed to us by those who accuse us, as if we held that eternal election and reprobation is made absolutely, without any respect to faith or unbelief, or to good or evil works: whereas on the contrary we rather hold that - in election faith and obedience are foreseen in those to be elected, not indeed as cause or reason of their election, but certainly as means of salvation foreordained in them by God;[WC III. vi.] in reprobation on the other hand, not only original sin, but also, so far as adults are concerned, unbelief and contumacious impenitence are not, properly speaking, foreordained by God, but foreseen and permitted in the reprobates themselves as the meritorious cause of desertion and damnation, and reprobated by the justest of judgments.[WC III. vii.]

Accordingly on this sublime mystery of predestination, we clearly hold the same opinion which in the first instance Augustine of old asserted out of the Scriptures against Pelagius; and which the greatest doctors of the Roman Church themselves, especially the followers of Thomas Aquinas, retain to-day.

FIRST GENEVAN CONFESSION (1536)35

X. All our Good by the Grace of God. And finally that all the praise and glory may be rendered to God (as is due), and that we may be able to have true peace and quiet in our consciences, we acknowledge and confess that we receive all the blessings now recited from the mercy of God alone, without any consideration of our worthiness or the merit of our works, to which is due no return except eternal confusion; that, nevertheless, our Lord, having received us in His goodness into communion with His Son Jesus, has works which make us pleasant and acceptable with faith - not at all because they merit it, but only because, not imputing to us the imperfection that is in them, He sees in them nothing except what proceeds from His Spirit.

GENEVAN CONFESSION (1537)36

The Apprehension of Christ by Faith. As the merciful Father offers us His Son in the Word of the gospel, so we embrace Him by faith and recognize Him as given to us. Without doubt the Word of the gospel calls all into participation of Christ, but multitudes, blinded and hardened by unbelief, reject this singular grace. Believers only, therefore, enjoy Christ, and they receive Him as sent to them, and do not reject Him as given to them: and follow Him as called by Him.

Election and Predestination. In such a difference it is necessary to consider the great secret of the counsel of God: for the seed of God's Word takes root and fructifies in those alone whom the Lord, by His eternal election, has predestined to be His children and heirs of the heavenly kingdom.[WC III. v.] To all others, who are reprobated by the same counsel of God before the constitution of the world,[WC III. iii.] the clear and evident publication of truth can be nothing else but the savor of death unto death. Now the reason why the Lord shows mercy towards the ones and exercises the rigor of His judgment towards the others must be left to be known by Him alone; the which He has willed should be concealed from us and not without very good reason. For neither would the rudeness of our minds permit us to endure so much clarity, nor our littleness permit us to understand so much wisdom. And in fact all who seek to raise themselves to it and are unwilling to repress the temerity of their spirits, experience the truth of what Solomon says (Prov. xxv.) - that he who would search into God's majesty will be oppressed by His glory. Let us only be assured of this - that the dispensation of the Lord, although it is concealed from us, is nevertheless holy and just: for had He willed to destroy the whole human race He had the right to do it, and in those whom it withdraws from perdition, we can contemplate nothing but His sovereign goodness.[WC III. v.] Therefore, let us recognize the elect to be vessels of His mercy (as they truly are), and the reprobates to be vessels of His wrath, which nevertheless is only just.[WC III. v. vi. vii.] Let us take from the one and the other alike ground and matter for the proclamation of His glory. And on the other hand also let us not, in order to confirm the certitude of our faith, seek (as many are accustomed to do) to penetrate into the heavens and to search out what God has from eternity determined to do concerning us (which cogitation can only agitate us with miserable anxiety and perturbation): but let us be content with the testimony by which He has sufficiently and amply confirmed this certitude to us.[WC III. viii. a.] For as in Christ all those are chosen who have been foreordained to life before the foundations of the world were laid, so He is presented to us as the seal of our election if we receive and embrace Him by faith. For what is it that we seek in election except that we may participate in eternal life? And this we have in Christ: for from the beginning He has the life, and He is proposed to us for life, to the end that all who believe in Him shall have eternal life. Since then in possessing Christ by faith we possess also life in Him we have no need to search further into the counsel of God; for Christ is not only a mirror in which the will of God is represented to us, but also a pledge by which it is as it were sealed and confirmed to us.[WC III. viii.]

GENEVAN CATECHISM (1545)37

Q. But why do you call God [in the Apostles' Creed] Creator, when to preserve and conserve the creatures in their condition is much more grand than once to have created them?

A. It is certainly not intended by this particular that God has so once created His works that afterwards He has laid aside care for them. But rather it is so to be understood as that the world, as it was once created by Him, so now is conserved by Him; and that neither the world nor anything else stands except so far as it is sustained by His power and, as it were, His hand. Moreover, since He thus has all things in His hands, He is constituted thereby the Supreme Governor and Lord of all. Therefore, from His being the Creator of heaven and earth, it is proper to gather that He it is alone who, in His wisdom, kindness, power, rules the whole course and order of nature; who is the author at once of drought, of hail and other storms, and as well of the calm; who in His goodness fertilizes the earth and again makes it barren by withdrawing His hand; from whom proceed both health and sickness; to whose empire, in fine, all things are subject and whose nod they obey.

Q. What are we to think, however, of the godless and of devils - shall we say that they, too, are subject to Him?

A. Though He does not govern them by His Spirit, He nevertheless coerces them by His power as by a bit, so that they are not even able to move, except so far as He permits to them. He makes them also the ministers of His will, so that they are compelled, unwillingly and against their counsel, to execute what has seemed good to Him.[WC III. i.]

Q. What good do you derive from the knowledge of this?

A. Very much. For it would go ill with us if anything was permitted to the devils and godless men apart from the will of God; and therefore we should never be of peaceful minds if we thought ourselves exposed to their license. But we may rest in peace now. that we know that they are governed by the will of God and are held as it were in bounds, so as to be capable of nothing except by His permission: especially since God Himself undertakes to be our Tutor and the Captain of our salvation. . . .

Q. What is the Church?

A. The body and society of believers whom God has predestinated to eternal life.[WC III. iii. a.]

Q. Is it necessary to believe this head [of the Creed]?

A. Assuredly: unless we wish to make Christ's death otiose and to bring to naught all that has been heretofore set forth. For the one issue of it all is that there may be a Church. . . .

Q. Well, then, in what sense do you call the Church holy?

A. Because, to wit, whomsoever God has elected, them He justifies and builds up in holiness and innocence of life; by which His glory shines forth in them (Rom. viii. 30).[WC III. vi. b.] And it is this that Paul means when he admonishes us that Christ has sanctified the Church which He has redeemed so that it may be glorious and free from every spot (Eph. v. 25). . . .

Q. But may not this Church be otherwise known than simply believed in by faith?

A. There is certainly also a visible Church of God, which is marked out for us by certain notes and signs; but here we properly treat of the congregation of those whom He has adopted unto salvation by His hidden election. And that is not constantly perceptible to the eyes nor recognizable by signs.

CONSENSUS TIGURINUS (1549)38

XVI. [Not all who participate in a sacrament partake also in the reality.] Moreover, we sedulously teach that God does not exert His power promiscuously in all who receive the sacraments, but only in the elect. For just as He enlightens unto faith no others than those whom He has foreordained to life, so by the hidden power of His Spirit He brings it about that the elect receive what is offered in the sacraments.[WC III. vi. b.]

[Calvin's Exposition of the Heads of the Consensus]

On the Antiquity and the Unity of the Human Race1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

THE fundamental assertion of the Biblical doctrine of the origin of man is that he owes his being to a creative act of God. Subsidiary questions growing out of this fundamental assertion, however, have been thrown from time to time into great prominence, as the changing forms of current anthropological speculation have seemed to press on this or that element in, or corollary from, the Biblical teaching. The most important of these subsidiary questions has concerned the method of the divine procedure in creating man. Discussion of this question became acute on the publication of Charles Darwin's treatise on the "Origin of Species" in 1859, and can never sink again into rest until it is thoroughly understood in all quarters that "evolution" cannot act as a substitute for creation, but at best can supply only a theory of the method of the divine providence. Closely connected with this discussion of the mode of origination of man, has been the discussion of two further questions, both older than the Darwinian theory, to one of which it gave, however, a new impulse, while it has well-nigh destroyed all interest in the other. These are the questions of the Antiquity of Man and the Unity of the Human Race, to both of which a large historical interest attaches, though neither of them can be said to be burning questions of to-day.

The question of the antiquity of man has of itself no theological significance. It is to theology, as such, a matter of entire indifference how long man has existed on earth. It is only because of the contrast which has been drawn between the short period which seems to be allotted to human history in the Biblical narrative, and the tremendously long period which certain schools of scientific speculation have assigned to the duration of human life on earth, that theology has become interested in the topic at all. There was thus created the appearance of a conflict between the Biblical statements and the findings of scientific investigators, and it became the duty of theologians to investigate the matter. The asserted conflict proves, however, to be entirely factitious. The Bible does not assign a brief span to human history: this is done only by a particular mode of interpreting the Biblical data, which is found on examination to rest on no solid basis. Science does not demand an inordinate period for the life of human beings on earth: this is done only by a particular school of speculative theorizers, the validity of whose demands on time exact investigators are more and more chary of allowing. As the real state of the case has become better understood the problem has therefore tended to disappear from theological discussion, till now it is pretty well understood that theology as such has no interest in it.

It must be confessed, indeed, that the impression is readily taken from a prima facie view of the Biblical record of the course of human history, that the human race is of comparatively recent origin. It has been the usual supposition of simple Bible readers, therefore, that the Biblical data allow for the duration of the life of the human race on earth only a paltry six thousand years or so: and this supposition has become fixed in formal chronological schemes which have become traditional and have even been given a place in the margins of our Bibles to supply the chronological framework of the Scriptural narrative. The most influential of these chronological schemes is that which was worked out by Archbishop Usher in his "Annales Veteri et Novi Testamenti" (1650-1654), and it is this scheme which has found a place in the margin of the Authorized English Version of the Bible since 1701. According to it the creation of the world is assigned to the year 4004 B.C. (Usher's own dating was 4138 B.C.); while according to the calculation of Petau (in his "Rationarium temporum"), the most influential rival scheme, it is assigned to the year 3983 B.C. On a more careful scrutiny of the data on which these calculations rest, however, they are found not to supply a satisfactory basis for the constitution of a definite chronological scheme. These data consist largely, and at the crucial points solely, of genealogical tables; and nothing can be clearer than that it is precarious in the highest degree to draw chronological inferences from genealogical tables.

For the period from Abraham down we have, indeed, in addition to somewhat minute genealogical records, the combined evidence of such so-called "long-dates" as those of I Kings vi. 1, Gal. iii. 17, and several precise statements concerning the duration of definite shorter periods, together with whatever aid it may be possible to derive from a certain amount of contemporary extra-Biblical data. For the length of this period there is no difficulty, therefore, in reaching an entirely satisfactory general estimate. But for the whole space of time before Abraham, we are dependent entirely on inferences drawn from the genealogies recorded in the fifth and eleventh chapters of Genesis. And if the Scriptural genealogies supply no solid basis for chronological inferences, it is clear that we are left without Scriptural data for forming an estimate of the duration of these ages. For aught we know they may have been of immense length.

The general fact that the genealogies of Scripture were not constructed for a chronological purpose and lend themselves ill to employment as a basis for chronological calculations has been repeatedly shown very fully; but perhaps by no one more thoroughly than by Dr. William Henry Green in an illuminating article published in the Bibliotheca Sacra for April, 1890. These genealogies must be esteemed trustworthy for the purposes for which they are recorded; but they cannot safely be pressed into use for other purposes for which they were not intended, and for which they are not adapted. In particular, it is clear that the genealogical purposes for which the genealogies were given, did not require a complete record of all the generations through which the descent of the persons to whom they are assigned runs; but only an adequate indication of the particular line through which the descent in question comes. Accordingly it is found on examination that the genealogies of Scripture are freely compressed for all sorts of purposes; and that it can seldom be confidently affirmed that they contain a complete record of the whole series of generations, while it is often obvious that a very large number are omitted. There is no reason inherent in the nature of the Scriptural genealogies why a genealogy of ten recorded links, as each of those in Genesis v. and xi. is, may not represent an actual descent of a hundred or a thousand or ten thousand links. The point established by the table is not that these are all the links which intervened between the beginning and the closing names, but that this is the line of descent through which one traces back to or down to the other.

A sufficient illustration of the freedom with which the links in the genealogies are dealt with in the Biblical usage is afforded by the two genealogies of our Lord which are given in the first chapter of the Gospel of Matthew. For it is to be noted that there are two genealogies of Jesus given in this chapter, differing greatly from one another in fullness of record, no doubt, but in no respect either in trustworthiness or in principle of record. The one is found in the first verse, and traces Jesus back to Abraham in just two steps: "Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham." The other is found in verses 2-17, and expands this same genealogy into forty-two links, divided for purposes of symmetrical record and easy memorizing into a threefold scheme of fourteen generations each. And not even is this longer record a complete one. A comparison with the parallel records in the Old Testament will quickly reveal the fact that the three kings, Ahaziah, Joash, and Amaziah are passed over and Joram is said to have begotten Uzziah, his great-great-grandson. The other genealogies of Scripture present similar phenomena; and as they are carefully scrutinized, it becomes ever clearer that as they do not pretend to give complete lists of generations, they cannot be intended to supply a basis for chronological calculation, and it is illegitimate and misleading to attempt to use them for that purpose. The reduction for extraneous reasons of the genealogy of Christ in the first chapter of Matthew into three tables of fourteen generations each, may warn us that the reduction of the patriarchal genealogies in Genesis v. and xi. into two tables of ten generations each may equally be due to extraneous considerations; and that there may be represented by each of these ten generations - adequately for the purposes for which the genealogy is recorded - a very much longer actual series of links.

It must not be permitted to drop out of sight, to be sure, that the appearance of supplying data for a chronological calculation is in these particular genealogies not due entirely to the mere fact that these lists are genealogies. It is due to a peculiarity of these special genealogies by which they are differentiated from all other genealogies in Scripture. We refer to the regular attachment, to each name in the lists, of the age of the father at the birth of his son. The effect of this is to provide what seems to be a continuous series of precisely measured generations, the numbers having only to be added together to supply an exact measure of the time consumed in their sequence. We do not read merely that "Adam begat Seth; and Seth begat Enosh; and Enosh begat Kenan." We read rather that "Adam lived an hundred and thirty years and begat Seth; and Seth lived an hundred and five years and begat Enosh; and Enosh lived ninety years and begat Kenan." It certainly looks, at first sight, as if we needed only to add these one hundred and thirty, one hundred and five, and ninety years together in order to obtain the whole time which elapsed from the creation of Adam to the birth of Kenan; and, accordingly, as if we needed only to add together the similar numbers throughout the lists in order to obtain an accurate measure of the whole period from the Creation to the Deluge. Plausible as this procedure seems, however, it appears on a closer scrutiny unjustified; and it is the especial service which Dr. William Henry Green in the article already mentioned has rendered to the cause of truth in this matter that he has shown this clearly.

For, if we will look at these lists again, we shall find that we have not yet got them in their entirety before us. Not only is there attached to each name in them a statement of the age at which the father begot his son, but also a statement of how long the father lived after he had begotten his son, and how many years his life-span counted up altogether. If we do not read merely, "Adam begat Seth; and Seth begat Enosh; and Enosh begat Kenan"; neither do we read merely, "Adam lived one hundred and thirty years and begat Seth; and Seth lived one hundred and five years and begat Enosh; and Enosh lived ninety years and begat Kenan." What we read is: "Adam lived an hundred and thirty years, and begat a son in his own likeness, after his image; and called his name Seth: and the days of Adam after he begat Seth were eight hundred years: and he begat sons and daughters: and all the days that Adam lived were nine hundred and thirty years: and he died. And Seth lived an hundred and five years, and begat Enosh: and Seth lived after he begat Enosh eight hundred and seven years, and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years: and he died. And Enosh lived ninety years, and begat Kenan: and Enosh lived after he begat Kenan eight hundred and fifteen years and begat sons and daughters: and all the days of Enosh were nine hundred and five years: and he died." There is, in a word, much more information furnished with respect to each link in the chain than merely the age to which each father had attained when his son was begotten; and all this information is of the same order and obviously belongs together. It is clear that a single motive has determined the insertion of all of it; and we must seek a reason for its insertion which will account for all of it. This reason cannot have been a chronological one: for all the items of information furnished do not serve a chronological purpose. Only the first item in each case can be made to yield a chronological result; and therefore not even it was intended to yield a chronological result, since all these items of information are too closely bound together in their common character to be separated in their intention. They too readily explain themselves, moreover, as serving an obvious common end which was clearly in the mind of the writer, to justify the ascription of a different end to any one of them. When we are told of any man that he was a hundred and thirty years old when he begat his heir, and lived after that eight hundred years begetting sons and daughters, dying only at the age of nine hundred and thirty years, all these items cooperate to make a vivid impression upon us of the vigor and grandeur of humanity in those old days of the world's prime. In a sense different indeed from that which the words bear in Genesis vi., but full of meaning to us, we exclaim, "Surely there were giants in those days!" This is the impression which the items of information inevitably make on us; and it is the impression they were intended to make on us, as is proved by the simple fact that they are adapted in all their items to make this impression, while only a small portion of them can be utilized for the purpose of chronological calculation. Having thus found a reason which will account for the insertion of all the items of information which are given us, we have no right to assume another reason to account for the insertion of some of them. And that means that we must decline to look upon the first item of information given in each instance as intended to give us chronological information.

The conclusion which we thus reach is greatly strengthened when we observe another fact with regard to these items of information. This is that the appearance that we have in them of a chronological scheme does not reside in the nature of the items themselves, but purely in their sequence. If we read the items of information attached to each name, apart from their fellows attached to the succeeding names, we shall have simply a set of facts about each name, which in their combination make a strong impression of the vigor and greatness of humanity in those days, and which suggest no chronological inference. It is only when the names, with the accompanying comments, are put together, one after the other, that a chronological inference is suggested. The chronological suggestion is thus purely the effect of the arrangement of the names in immediate sequence; and is not intrinsically resident in the items of information themselves.

And now we must call attention to a characteristic of Scripture genealogies in general which seems to find a specially striking illustration in these comments. This is the habit of interposing into the structure of the genealogies, here and there, a short note, attached to this name or that, telling some important or interesting fact about the person represented by it. A simple genealogy would run thus: "Adam begat Seth; and Seth begat Enosh; and Enosh begat Kenan"; and the like, But it would be quite in the Biblical manner if there were attached to some, or even to each of these names, parenthetical remarks, calling attention to something of interest regarding the several persons. For example, it would be quite after the Biblical fashion should we have rather had this: "Adam, who was the first man, begat Seth; and Seth, he it was who was appointed as another seed in the stead of Abel whom Cain slew, begat Enosh; and Enosh, at his birth men began to call on the name of Jehovah, begat Kenan." The insertion of such items of information does not in the least change the character of the genealogy as in itself a simple genealogy, subject to all the laws which governed the formation and record of the Scriptural genealogies, including the right of free compression, with the omission of any number of links. It is strictly parenthetical in nature.

Several examples of such parenthetical insertions occur in the genealogy of Jesus recorded in the first chapter of Matthew, to which we have already referred for illustration. Thus in verse 2, the fact that Judah had "brethren" is interposed in the genealogy, a fact which is noted also with respect to two others of the names which occur in the list (verses 3 and 11): it is noted here doubtless because of the significance of the twelve sons of Jacob as tribe-fathers of Israel. Again we find in four instances a notification of the mother interposed (Tamar, verse 3; Rahab, verse 5; Ruth, verse 5; her of Uriah, verse 6). The introduction of the names of these notable women, which prepares the way for the introduction of that of Mary in verse 16, constitutes a very remarkable feature of this particular genealogy. Another feature of it is suggested by the attachment to the name of David (verse 6) the statement that he was "the King"; and to the name of Jechoniah (verse 11) the statement that his life-span fell at the time of the carrying away to Babylon: the account of these insertions being found, doubtless, in the artificial arrangement of the genealogy in three symmetrical tables. The habit of inserting parenthetical notes giving items of interest connected with the names which enter into the genealogies is doubtless sufficiently illustrated by these instances. The only point in which the genealogies of Genesis v. and xi. differ in this respect from this one in Matthew i. is that such items of information are inserted with reference to every name in those genealogies, while they are inserted only occasionally in the genealogy of our Lord. This is, however, a difference of detail, not of principle. Clearly if these notes had been constant in the genealogy in Matthew i. instead of merely occasional, its nature as a genealogy would not have been affected: it would still have remained a simple genealogy subject to all the customary laws of simple genealogies. That they are constant in the genealogies of Genesis v. and xi. does not, then, alter their character as simple genealogies. These additions are in their nature parenthetical, and are to be read in each instance strictly as such and with sole reference to the names to which they are attached, and cannot determine whether or not links have been omitted in these genealogies as they are freely omitted in other genealogies.

It is quite true that, when brought together in sequence, name after name, these notes assume the appearance of a concatenated chronological scheme. But this is pure illusion, due wholly to the nature of the parenthetical insertions which are made. When placed one after the other they seem to play into one another, whereas they are set down here for an entirely different purpose and cannot without violence be read with reference to one another. If the items of information were of a different character we should never think of reading them otherwise than each with sole reference to its own name. Thus, if they were given to show us how nobly developed primitive men were in their physical frames and read something as follows: "Adam was eight cubits in height and begat Seth; and Seth was seven cubits in height and begat Enosh; and Enosh was six cubits in height and begat Kenan"; we should have no difficulty in understanding that these remarks are purely parenthetical and in no way argue that no links have been omitted. The case is not altered by the mere fact that other items than these are chosen for notice, with the same general intent, and we actually read: "Adam lived an hundred and thirty years and begat Seth; and Seth lived an hundred and five years and begat Enosh; and Enosh lived ninety years and begat Kenan." The circumstance that the actual items chosen for parenthetical notice are such that when the names are arranged one after the other they produce the illusion of a chronological scheme is a mere accident, arising from the nature of the items chosen, and must not blind us to the fact that we have before us here nothing but ordinary genealogies, accompanied by parenthetical notes which are inserted for other than chronological purposes; and that therefore these genealogies must be treated like other genealogies, and interpreted on the same principles. But if this be so, then these genealogies too not only may be, but probably are, much compressed, and merely record the line of descent of Noah from Adam and of Abraham from Noah. Their symmetrical arrangement in groups of ten is indicative of their compression; and for aught we know instead of twenty generations and some two thousand years measuring the interval between the creation and the birth of Abraham, two hundred generations, and something like twenty thousand years, or even two thousand generations and something like two hundred thousand years may have intervened. In a word, the Scriptural data leave us wholly without guidance in estimating the time which elapsed between the creation of the world and the deluge and between the deluge and the call of Abraham. So far as the Scripture assertions are concerned, we may suppose any length of time to have intervened between these events which may otherwise appear reasonable.

The question of the antiquity of man is accordingly a purely scientific one, in which the theologian as such has no concern. As an interested spectator, however, he looks on as the various schools of scientific speculation debate the question among themselves; and he can scarcely fail to take away as the result of his observation two well-grounded convictions. The first is that science has as yet in its hands no solid data for a definite estimate of the time during which the human race has existed on earth. The second is that the tremendous drafts on time which were accustomed to be made by the geologists about the middle of the last century and which continue to be made by one school of speculative biology to-day have been definitively set aside, and it is becoming very generally understood that man cannot have existed on the earth more than some ten thousand to twenty thousand years.

It was a result of the manner of looking at things inculcated by the Huttonian geology, that speculation during the first three quarters of the nineteenth century estimated the age of the habitable globe in terms of hundreds of millions of years. It was under the influence of this teaching, for example, that Charles Darwin, in 1859, supposed that three hundred million years were an underestimate for the period which has elapsed since the latter part of the Secondary Age.2 In reviewing Mr. Darwin's argument in his "Student's Manual of Geology," Professor Jukes remarked on the vagueness of the data on which his estimates were formed, and suggested that the sum of years asserted might with equal reasonableness be reduced or multiplied a hundredfold: he proposed therefore three million and thirty billion years as the minimum and maximum limits of the period in question. From the same fundamental standpoint, Professor Poulton in his address as President of the Zoological Section of the British Association for the Advancement of Science (Liverpool, September, 1896) treats as too short from his biological point of view the longest time asked by the geologists for the duration of the habitable earth - say some four hundred millions of years. Dwelling on the number of distinct types of animal existence already found in the Lower Cambrian deposits, and on the necessarily (as he thinks) slow progress of evolution, he stretches out the time required for the advance of life to its present manifestation practically illimitably. Taking up the cudgels for his biological friends, Sir Archibald Geikie3 chivalrously offers them all the time they desire, speaking on his own behalf, however, of one hundred million years as possibly sufficient for the period of the existence of life on the globe. These general estimates imply, of course, a very generous allowance for the duration of human life on earth; but many anthropologists demand for this period even more than they allow. Thus, for example, Professor Gabriel de Mortillet4 reiterates his conviction that the appearance of man on earth cannot be dated less than two hundred and thirty thousand years ago, and Professor A. Penck5 would agree with this estimate, while Dr. A. R. Wallace has been accustomed to ask more than double that period.6

These tremendously long estimates of the duration of life on earth and particularly of the duration of human life are, however, speculative, and, indeed, largely the creation of a special type of evolutionary speculation - a type which is rapidly losing ground among recent scientific workers. This type is that which owes its origin to the brooding mind of Charles Darwin; and up to recent times it has been the regnant type of evolutionary philosophy. Its characteristic contention is that the entire development of animate forms has been the product of selection, by the pressure of the environment, of infinitesimal variations in an almost infinite series of successive generations; or to put it rather brusquely, but not unfairly, that chance plus time are the true causes which account for the whole body of differentiated forms which animate nature presents to our observation. Naturally, therefore, heavy drafts have been made on time to account for whatever it seemed hard to attribute to brute chance, as if you could admit the issuing of any effect out of any conditions, if you only conceived the process of production as slow enough. James Hutton had duly warned his followers against the temptation to appeal to time as if it were itself an efficient cause of effects. "With regard to the effect of time," he said,7 "though the continuance of time may do much in those operations which are extremely slow, where no change, to our observation, had appeared to take place, yet, where it is not in the nature of things to produce the change in question, the unlimited course of time would be no more effectual than the moment by which we measure events in our observations." The warning was not heeded: men seemed to imagine that, if only time enough were given for it, effects, for which no adequate cause could be assigned, might be supposed to come gradually of themselves. Aimless movement was supposed, if time enough were allowed for it, to produce an ordered world. It might as well be supposed that if a box full of printers' types were stirred up long enough with a stick, they could be counted on to arrange themselves in time in the order in which they stand, say, in Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason." They will never do so, though they be stirred to eternity. Dr. J. W. Dawson8 points out the exact difficulty, when he remarks that "the necessity for indefinitely protracted time does not arise from the facts, but from the attempt to explain the facts without any adequate cause, and to appeal to an infinite series of chance interactions apart from a designed plan, and without regard to the consideration, that we know of no way in which, with any conceivable amount of time, the first living and organized beings could be spontaneously produced from dead matter." Nothing could be more certain than that what chance cannot begin the production of in a moment, chance cannot complete the production of in an eternity. The analysis of the complete effect into an infinite series of parts, and the distribution of these parts over an infinite series of years, leaves the effect as unaccounted for as ever. What is needed to account for it is not time in any extension, but an adequate cause. A mass of iron is made no more self-supporting by being forged into an illimitable chain formed of innumerable infinitesimal links. We may cast our dice to all eternity with no more likelihood than at the first throw of ever turning up double-sevens.

It is not, however, the force of such reasoning but the pressure of hard facts which is revolutionizing the conceptions of biologists to-day as to the length of the period during which man has existed on earth. It is not possible to enumerate here all the facts which are cooperating to produce a revised and greatly reduced estimate of this period. First among them may doubtless be placed the calculations of the life-period of the globe itself which have been made by the physicists with ever increasing confidence. Led by such investigators as Lord Kelvin, they have become ever more and more insistent that the time demanded by the old uniformitarian and new biological speculator is not at their disposal. The publication in the seventh decade of the past century of Lord Kelvin's calculations, going to show that the sun had not been shining sixty millions of years, already gave pause to the reckless drafts which had been accustomed to be made on time; and the situation was rendered more and more acute by subsequent revisions of Lord Kelvin's work, progressively diminishing this estimate. Sir Archibald Geikie complains that "he [Lord Kelvin] has cut off slice after slice from the allowance of time which at first he was prepared to grant for the evolution of geological history," until he has reduced it from forty to twenty millions of years, "and probably much nearer twenty than forty."9 This estimate of the period of the sun's light would allow only something like six millions of years for geological time, only some one-sixteenth of which would be available for the cænozoic period, of which only about one-eighth or forty thousand years or so could be allotted to the pleistocene age, in the course of which the remains of man first appear.10 Even this meager allowance is cut in half by the calculation of Professor Tait;11 while the general conclusions of these investigators have received the support of independent calculations by Dr. George H. Darwin and Professor Newcomb; and more recently still Mr. T. J. J. See of the Naval Observatory at Washington has published a very pretty speculation in which he determines the total longevity of the sun to be only thirty-six millions of years, thirty-two of which belong to its past history.12

It is not merely the physicists, however, with whom the biological speculators have to do: the geologists themselves have turned against them. Recent investigations may be taken as putting pre-Quaternary man out of the question (the evidence was reviewed by Sir John Evans, in his address at the Toronto meeting of the British Association, August 18, 1897). And revised estimates of the rate of denudation, erosion, deposition of alluvial matter in deltas, or of stalagmitic matter in the floors or caves have greatly reduced the exaggerated conception of its slowness, from which support was sought for the immensely long periods of time demanded. The post-glacial period, which will roughly estimate the age of man, it is now pretty generally agreed, "cannot be more than ten thousand years, or probably not more than seven thousand" in length.13 In this estimate both Professor Winchell14 and Professor Salisbury15 agree, and to its establishment a great body of evidence derived from a variety of calculations concur. If man is of post-glacial origin, then, his advent upon earth need not be dated more than five or six thousand years ago; or if we suppose him to have appeared at some point in the later glacial period, as Professor G. F. Wright does, then certainly Professor Wright's estimate of sixteen thousand to twenty thousand years is an ample one.

The effect of these revised estimates of geological time has been greatly increased by growing uncertainty among biologists themselves, as to the soundness of the assumptions upon which was founded their demand for long periods of time. These assumptions were briefly those which underlie the doctrine of evolution in its specifically Darwinian form; in the form, that is to say, in which the evolution is supposed to be accomplished by the fixing through the pressure of the environment of minute favorable variations, arising accidentally in the midst of minute variations in every direction indifferently. But in the progress of biological research, the sufficiency of this "natural selection" to account for the development of organic forms has come first to be questioned, and then in large circles to be denied.16 In proportion, however, as evolution is conceived as advancing in determined directions, come the determination from whatever source you choose;17 and in proportion as it is conceived as advancing onwards by large increments instead of by insensible changes;18 in that proportion the demand on time is lessened and even the evolutionary speculator feels that he can get along with less of it. He is no longer impelled to assume behind the high type of man whose remains in the post-glacial deposits are the first intimation of the presence of man on earth, an almost illimitable series of lower and ever lower types of man through which gradually the brute struggled up to the high humanity, records of whose existence alone have been preserved to us.19 And he no longer requires to postulate immense stretches of time for the progress of this man through paleolithic, neolithic and metal-using periods, for the differentiation of the strongly marked characteristics of the several races of man, for the slow humanizing of human nature and the slower development of those powers within it from which at length what we call civilization emerged. Once allow the principle of modification by leaps, and the question of the length of time required for a given evolution passes out of the sphere of practical interest. The height of the leaps becomes a matter of detail, and there is readily transferred to the estimation of it the importance which was formerly attached to the estimation of the time involved. Thus it has come about, that, in the progress of scientific investigation, the motive for demanding illimitable stretches of time for the duration of life, and specifically for the duration of human life on earth, has gradually been passing away, and there seems now a very general tendency among scientific investigators to acquiesce in a moderate estimate - in an estimate which demands for the life of man on earth not more than, say, ten or twenty thousand years.

If the controversy upon the antiquity of man is thus rapidly losing all but a historical interest, that which once so violently raged upon the unity of the race may be said already to have reached this stage. The question of the unity of the human race differs from the question of its antiquity in that it is of indubitable theological importance. It is not merely that the Bible certainly teaches it, while, as we have sought to show, it has no teaching upon the antiquity of the race. It is also the postulate of the entire body of the Bible's teaching - of its doctrine of Sin and Redemption alike: so that the whole structure of the Bible's teaching, including all that we know as its doctrine of salvation, rests on it and implicates it. There have been times, nevertheless, when it has been vigorously assailed, from various motives, from within as well as from without the Church, and the resources of Christian reasoning have been taxed to support it. These times have now, however, definitely passed away. The prevalence of the evolutionary hypotheses has removed all motive for denying a common origin to the human race, and rendered it natural to look upon the differences which exist among the various types of man as differentiations of a common stock. The motive for denying their conclusiveness having been thus removed, the convincing evidences of the unity of the race have had opportunity to assert their force. The result is that the unity of the race, in the sense of its common origin, is no longer a matter of debate; and although actually some erratic writers may still speak of it as open to discussion, they are not taken seriously, and practically it is universally treated as a fixed fact that mankind in all its varieties is one, as in fundamental characteristics, so also in origin.

In our natural satisfaction over this agreement between Scripture and modern science with respect to the unity of humanity, we must not permit ourselves to forget that there has always nevertheless existed among men a strong tendency to deny this unity in the interests of racial pride. Outside of the influence of the Biblical revelation, indeed, the sense of human unity has never been strong and has ordinarily been non-existent.20 The Stoics seem to have been the first among the classical peoples to preach the unity of mankind and the duty of universal justice and philanthropy founded upon it. With the revival of classical ideas which came in with what we call the Renaissance, there came in also a tendency to revive heathen polygenism, which was characteristically reproduced in the writings of Blount and others of the Deists. A more definite co-Adamitism, that is to say the attribution of the descent of the several chief racial types to separate original ancestors, has also been taught by occasional individuals such, for example, as Paracelsus. And the still more definite pre-Adamitism, which conceives man indeed as a single species, derived from one stock, but represents Adam not as the root of this stock, but as one of its products, the ancestor of the Jews and white races alone, has always found teachers, such as, for example, Zanini. The advocacy of this pre-Adamitic theory by Isaac de la Peyrère in the middle of the seventeenth century roused a great debate which, however, soon died out, although leaving echoes behind it in Bayle, Arnold, Swedenborg. A sort of pre-Adamitism has continued to be taught by a series of philosophical speculators from Schelling down, which looks upon Adam as the first real man, rising in developed humanity above the low, beastlike condition of his ancestors. In our own day George Catlin21 and especially Alexander Winchell22 have revived in its essentials the teaching of de la Peyrère. "Adam," says Professor Winchell, "is descended from a black race, not the black race from Adam." The advancing knowledge of the varied races of man produced in the latter part of the eighteenth and the earlier nineteenth century a revival of co-Adamitism (Sullivan, Crueger, Ballenstedt, Cordonière, Gobineau) which was even perverted into a defense of slavery (Dobbs, Morton, Nott, and Gliddon). It was in connection with Nott and Gliddon's "Types of Mankind" that Agassiz first published his theory of the diverse origin of the several types of man, the only one of these theories of abiding interest because the only one arising from a genuinely scientific impulse and possessing a really scientific basis. Agassiz's theory was the product of a serious study of the geographical distribution of animate life, and one of the results of Agassiz's classification of the whole of animate creation into eight well-marked types of fauna involving, so he thought, eight separate centers of origin. Pursuant to this classification he sought to distribute mankind also into eight types, to each of which he ascribed a separate origin, corresponding with the type of fauna with which each is associated. But even Agassiz could not deny that men are, despite their eightfold separate creation, all of one kind: he could not erect specific differences between the several types of man.23 The evidence which compelled him to recognize the oneness of man in kind remains in its full validity, after advancing knowledge of the animal kingdom and its geographical distribution24 has rendered Agassiz's assumption of eight centers of origination (not merely distribution) a violent hypothesis; and the entrance into the field of the evolutionary hypothesis has consigned all theories formed without reference to it to oblivion. Even some early evolutionists, it is true, played for a time with theories of multiplex times and places where similar lines of development culminated alike in man (Haeckel, Schaffhausen, Caspari, Vogt, Büchner), and perhaps there is now some sign of the revival of this view; but it is now agreed with practical unanimity that the unity of the human race, in the sense of its common origin, is a necessary corollary of the evolutionary hypothesis, and no voice raised in contradiction of it stands much chance to be heard.25

It is, however, only for its universal allowance at the hands of speculative science that the fact of the unity of the human race has to thank the evolutionary hypothesis. The evidence by which it is solidly established is of course independent of all such hypotheses. This evidence is drawn almost equally from every department of human manifestation, physiological, psychological, philological, and even historical. The physiological unity of the race is illustrated by the nice gradations by which the several so-called races into which it is divided pass into one another; and by their undiminished natural fertility when intercrossed; by which Professor Owen was led to remark that "man forms one species, and . . . differences are but indicative of varieties" which "merge into each other by easy gradations."26 It is emphasized by the contrast which exists between the structural characteristics, osteological, cranial, dental, common to the entire race of human beings of every variety and those of the nearest animal types; which led Professor Huxley to assert that "every bone of a Gorilla bears marks by which it might be distinguished from the corresponding bones of a Man; and that, in the present creation, at any rate, no intermediate link bridges over the gap between Homo and Troglodytes."27 The psychological unity of the race is still more manifest. All men of all varieties are psychologically men and prove themselves possessors of the same mental nature and furniture. Under the same influences they function mentally and spiritually in the same fashion, and prove capable of the same mental reactions. They, they all, and they alone, in the whole realm of animal existences manifest themselves as rational and moral natures; so that Mr. Fiske was fully justified when he declared that though for zoölogical man the erection of a distinct family from the chimpanzee and orang might suffice, "on the other hand, for psychological man you must erect a distinct kingdom; nay, you must even dichotomize the universe, putting Man on one side and all things else on the other."28 Among the manifestations of the psychological peculiarities of mankind, as distinguished from all other animate existences, is the great gift of speech which he shares with no other being: if all human languages cannot be reduced to a single root, they all exhibit a uniquely human faculty working under similar laws, and bear the most striking testimony to the unity of the race which alone has language at its command. The possession of common traditions by numerous widely separated peoples is only a single one of many indications of a historical intercommunion between the several peoples through which their essential unity is evinced, and by which the Biblical account of the origination of the various families of man in a single center from which they have spread out in all directions is powerfully supported.29

The assertion of the unity of the human race is imbedded in the very structure of the Biblical narrative. The Biblical account of the origin of man (Gen. i. 26-28) is an account of his origination in a single pair, who constituted humanity in its germ, and from whose fruitfulness and multiplication all the earth has been replenished. Therefore the first man was called Adam, Man, and the first woman, Eve, "because she was the mother of all living" (Gen. iii. 20); and all men are currently spoken of as the "sons of Adam" or "Man" (Deut. xxxii. 8; Ps. xi. 4; I Sam. xxvi. 19; I Kings viii. 39; Ps. cxlv. 12; etc.). The absolute restriction of the human race within the descendants of this single pair is emphasized by the history of the Flood in which all flesh is destroyed, and the race given a new beginning in its second father, Noah, by whose descendants again "the whole earth was overspread" (Gen. ix. 19), as is illustrated in detail by the table of nations recorded in Genesis x. A profound religious-ethical significance is given to the differentiations of the peoples, in the story of the tower of Babel in the eleventh chapter of Genesis, in which the divergences and separations which divide mankind are represented as the product of sin: what God had joined together men themselves pulled asunder. Throughout the Scriptures therefore all mankind is treated as, from the divine point of view, a unit, and shares not only in a common nature but in a common sinfulness, not only in a common need but in a common redemption.

Accordingly, although Israel was taught to glory in its exaltation by the choice of the Lord to be His peculiar people, Israel was not permitted to believe there was anything in itself which differentiated it from other peoples; and by the laws concerning aliens and slaves was required to recognize the common humanity of all sorts and conditions of men; what they had to distinguish them from others was not of nature but of the free gift of God, in the mysterious working out of His purpose of good not only to Israel but to the whole world. This universalism in the divine purposes of mercy, already inherent in the Old Covenant and often proclaimed in it, and made the very keynote of the New - for which the Old was the preparation - is the most emphatic possible assertion of the unity of the race. Accordingly, not only do we find our Lord Himself setting His seal upon the origination of the race in a single pair, and drawing from that fact the law of life for men at large (Matt. xix. 4); and Paul explicitly declaring that "God has made of one every nation of men" and having for His own good ends appointed to each its separate habitation, is now dealing with them all alike in offering them a common salvation (Acts xvii. 26 ff.); but the whole New Testament is instinct with the brotherhood of mankind as one in origin and in nature, one in need and one in the provision of redemption. The fact of racial sin is basal to the whole Pauline system (Rom, v. 12 ff.; I Cor. xv. 21 f.), and beneath the fact of racial sin lies the fact of racial unity. It is only because all men were in Adam as their first head that all men share in Adam's sin and with his sin in his punishment. And it is only because the sin of man is thus one in origin and therefore of the same nature and quality, that the redemption which is suitable and may be made available for one is equally suitable and may be made available for all. It is because the race is one and its need one, Jew and Gentile are alike under sin, that there is no difference between Jew and Gentile in the matter of salvation either, but as the same God is Lord of all, so He is rich in Christ Jesus unto all that call upon Him, and will justify the uncircumcision through faith alone, even as He justifies the circumcision only by faith (Rom. ix. 22-24, 28 ff.; x. 12). Jesus Christ therefore, as the last Adam, is the Saviour not of the Jews only but of the world (John iv. 42; I Tim. iv. 10; I John iv. 14), having been given to this His great work only by the love of the Father for the world (John iii. 16). The unity of the human race is therefore made in Scripture not merely the basis of a demand that we shall recognize the dignity of humanity in all its representatives, of however lowly estate or family, since all bear alike the image of God in which man was created and the image of God is deeper than sin and cannot be eradicated by sin (Gen. v. 3; ix. 6; I Cor. xi. 7; Heb. ii. 5 ff.); but the basis also of the entire scheme of restoration devised by the divine love for the salvation of a lost race.

So far is it from being of no concern to theology, therefore, that it would be truer to say that the whole doctrinal structure of the Bible account of redemption is founded on its assumption that the race of man is one organic whole, and may be dealt with as such. It is because all are one in Adam that in the matter of sin there is no difference, but all have fallen short of the glory of God (Rom. iii. 22 f.), and as well that in the new man there cannot be Greek and Jew, circumcision and uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, bondman, freeman; but Christ is all and in all (Col. iii. 11). The unity of the old man in Adam is the postulate of the unity of the new man in Christ.

Endnotes:

1. Reprinted from The Princeton Theological Review, ix. 1911, pp. 1-25.

2. "Origin of Species," ed. 1, p. 287.

3. Address as President of the Geological Section of the British Association, Dover meeting, September, 1899: Science for October 13, 1899.

4. Revue Mensuelle of the Paris School of Anthropology, for January 15, 1897.

5. Silliman Lectures at Yale, for 1908.

6. Nature, October 2, 1873, pp. 462-463; cf. "Darwinism," 1889, p. 456.

7. "Theory of the Earth," ii. p. 205.

8. "Relics of Primeval Life," 1897, p. 323.

9. Loc. cit., p. 519.

10. 10 Cf. the estimates of G. F. Wright, "Records of the Past," vii. 1908, p. 24. He suggests for post-Tertiary time, say 50,000 years; and adds that, even if this be doubled, there could be assigned to the post-glacial period only some 10,000 years.

11. "Recent Advances in Physical Science," 1876, pp. 167-168.

12. On the so-called "Planetesimal Hypothesis" of Professors Chamberlin and Moulton, which does not presuppose a molten sun and earth, these calculations which proceed on the basis of the "cooling-globe hypothesis" are of course without validity. And in recent years a somewhat despairing appeal has been made to the behavior of radium to suggest that all calculations based on rate of waste are valueless.

13. Cf. especially articles in the Bibliotheca Sacra for July, 1903 (lx. pp. 572-582).

14. American Geologist, September, 1902, p. 193.

15. "The Glacial Geology of New Jersey" (Volume V of the Final Report of the State Geologist), 1902, p. 194.

16. Cf. V. L. Kellogg, "Darwinism To-day," 1907; R. Otto, "Naturalism and Religion," 1907; E. Wasmann, "Die moderne Biologie und die Entwicklungstheorie," ed. 3, 1906; James Orr, "God's Image in Man," 1905; E. Dennert, "Vom Sterbelager des Darwinismus," 1903.

17. That "orthogenesis" is a fact is much more widely recognized than is the validity of Eimer's special mode of accounting for it.

18. The recognition of the reality of these saltations - or "mutations," as De Vries inadequately terms them - is again largely independent of any particular theory with reference to them.

19. Cf. Hubrecht in De Gids for June, 1896; Otto, "Naturalism and Religion," 1907, p. 110; Orr, "God's Image in Man," 1905, p. 134. E. D. Cope, "The Primary Factors of Organic Evolution," 1896, thinks there is evidence enough to constitute two species of the genus homo - Homo sapiens and Homo neanderthalensis, to the latter of which he assigns a greater number of simian characteristics than exist in any of the known races of the Homo sapiens. But he requires to add (p. 170): "There is still, to use the language of Fraipont and Lohest, 'an abyss' between the man of Spy and the highest ape" - although, on his own account he adds, surely unwarrantably, "though, from a zoological point of view, it is not a wide one." In point of fact the earliest relics of man are relics of men, with all that is included in that, and there lies between them and all other known beings a hitherto unbridged "abyss."

20. 20 Cf. H. Bavinck, "The Philosophy of Revelation," 1909, pp. 137ff.

21. "O-kee-pa," London, 1867: he referred the North American Indians to an antediluvian species, which he called Anthropus Americanus.

22. "Preadamites," Chicago, 1880.

23. Similarly Heinrich Schurtz, while leaving the descent of men from a single pair an open question, affirms that it is a fact that "humanity forms one great unity."

24. It was Wallace's "Geographical Distribution of Animals" which struck the first crushing blow.

25. Klaatsch wishes to postulate two distinct stems for man (now mingled together): see on his views, Keith in Nature, December 15, 1910.

26. E. Burgess, "What is Truth? An Enquiry concerning the Antiquity and Unity of the Human Race," Boston [1871], p. 185.

27. "Evidence as to Man's Place in Nature," 1864, p. 104.

28. "Through Nature to God," 1899, p. 82.

29. Cf. the discussion in the seventh lecture of Bavinck's "Philosophy of Revelation," 1909.

Atonement

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Reprinted from "The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge," edited by Samuel Macauley Jackson, D.D., LL.D., i. pp. 349-356 (copyright by Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York, 1908).

I. SIGNIFICANCE AND HISTORY OF THE DOCTRINE

The replacement of the term "satisfaction" (q.v.), to designate, according to its nature, the work of Christ in saving sinners, by "atonement," the term more usual at present, is somewhat unfortunate. "Satisfaction" is at once the more comprehensive, the more expressive, the less ambiguous, and the more exact term. The word "atonement" occurs but once in the English New Testament (Rom. v. 11, A. V., but not R. V.) and on this occasion it bears its archaic sense of "reconciliation," and as such translates the Greek term katallagē. In the English Old Testament, however, it is found quite often as the stated rendering of the Hebrew terms kipper, kippurim, in the sense of "propitiation," "expiation." It is in this latter sense that it has become current, and has been applied to the work of Christ, which it accordingly describes as, in its essential nature, an expiatory offering, propitiating an offended Deity and reconciling Him with man.

1. THE NEW TESTAMENT PRESENTATION

In thus characterizing the work of Christ, it does no injustice to the New Testament representation. The writers of the New Testament employ many other modes of describing the work of Christ, which, taken together, set it forth as much more than a provision, in His death, for canceling the guilt of man. To mention nothing else at the moment, they set it forth equally as a provision, in His righteousness, for fulfilling the demands of the divine law upon the conduct of men. But it is undeniable that they enshrine at the center of this work its efficacy as a piacular sacrifice, securing the forgiveness of sins; that is to say, relieving its beneficiaries of "the penal consequences which otherwise the curse of the broken law inevitably entails." The Lord Himself fastens attention upon this aspect of His work (Matt. xx. 28, xxvi. 28); and it is embedded in every important type of New Testament teaching - as well in the Epistle to the Hebrews (ii. 17), and the Epistles of Peter (I. iii. 18) and John (I. ii. 2), as currently in those of Paul (Rom, viii. 3; I Cor. v. 7; Eph. v. 2) to whom, obviously, "the sacrifice of Christ had the significance of the death of an innocent victim in the room of the guilty" and who therefore "freely employs the category of substitution, involving the conception of imputation or transference" of legal standing (W. P. Paterson, article "Sacrifice" in Hastings, "Dictionary of the Bible," iv. 1909, pp. 343-345). Looking out from this point of view as from a center, the New Testament writers ascribe the saving efficacy of Christ's work specifically to His death, or His blood, or His cross (Rom. iii. 25; v. 9; I Cor. x. 16; Eph. i. 7; ii. 13; Col. i. 20; Heb. ix. 12, 14; I Pet. i. 2, 19; I John i. 7; v. 6-8; Rev. i. 5), and this with such predilection and emphasis that the place given to the death of Christ in the several theories which have been framed of the nature of our Lord's work, may not unfairly be taken as a test of their Scripturalness. All else that Christ does for us in the breadth of His redeeming work is, in their view, conditioned upon His bearing our sins in His own body on the tree; so that "the fundamental characteristic of the New Testament conception of redemption is that deliverance from guilt stands first; emancipation from the power of sin follows upon it; and removal of all the ills of life constitutes its final issue" (O. Kirn, article "Erlösung" in Hauck-Herzog, "Realencyklopadie," v. p. 464; see "Redemption").

2. DEVELOPMENT OF THE DOCTRINE

The exact nature of Christ's work in redemption was not made the subject of scientific investigation in the early Church. This was due partly, no doubt, just to the clearness of the New Testament representation of it as a piacular sacrifice; but in part also to the engrossment of the minds of the first teachers of Christianity with more immediately pressing problems, such as the adjustment of the essential elements of the Christian doctrines of God and of the person of Christ, and the establishment of man's helplessness in sin and absolute dependence on the grace of God for salvation. Meanwhile Christians were content to speak of the work of Christ in simple Scriptural or in general language, or to develop, rather by way of illustration than of explanation, certain aspects of it, chiefly its efficacy as a sacrifice, but also, very prominently, its working as a ransom in delivering us from bondage to Satan. Thus it was not until the end of the eleventh century that the nature of the Atonement received at the hands of Anselm (d. 1109) its first thorough discussion. Representing it, in terms derived from the Roman law, as in its essence a "satisfaction" to the divine justice, Anselm set it once for all in its true relations to the inherent necessities of the divine nature, and to the magnitude of human guilt; and thus determined the outlines of the doctrine for all subsequent thought. Contemporaries like Bernard and Abelard, no doubt, and perhaps not unnaturally, found difficulty in assimilating at once the newly framed doctrine; the former ignored it in the interests of the old notion of a ransom offered to Satan; the latter rejected it in the interests of a theory of moral influence upon man. But it gradually made its way. The Victorines, Hugo and Richard, united with it other elements, the effect of which was to cure its onesidedness; and the great doctors of the age of developed scholasticism manifest its victory by differing from one another chiefly in their individual ways of stating and defending it. Bonaventura develops it; Aquinas enriches it with his subtle distinctions; Thomist and Scotist alike start from it, and diverge only in the question whether the "satisfaction" offered by Christ was intrinsically equivalent to the requirements of the divine justice or availed for this purpose only through the gracious acceptance of God. It was not, however, until the Reformation doctrine of justification by faith threw its light back upon the "satisfaction" which provided its basis, that that doctrine came fully to its rights. No one before Luther had spoken with the clarity, depth, or breadth which characterize his references to Christ as our deliverer, first from the guilt of sin, and then, because from the guilt of sin, also from all that is evil, since all that is evil springs from sin (cf. T. Harnack, "Luthers Theologie," Erlangen, ii. 1886, chaps. 16-19, and Kirn, ut sup., p. 467). These vital religious conceptions were reduced to scientific statement by the Protestant scholastics, by whom it was that the complete doctrine of "satisfaction" was formulated with a thoroughness and comprehensiveness of grasp which has made it the permanent possession of the Church. In this, its developed form, it represents our Lord as making satisfaction for us "by His blood and righteousness"; on the one hand, to the justice of God, outraged by human sin, in bearing the penalty due to our guilt in His own sacrificial death; and, on the other hand, to the demands of the law of God requiring perfect obedience, in fulfilling in His immaculate life on earth as the second Adam the probation which Adam failed to keep; bringing to bear on men at the same time and by means of the same double work every conceivable influence adapted to deter them from sin and to win them back to good and to God - by the highest imaginable demonstration of God's righteousness and hatred of sin and the supreme manifestation of God's love and eagerness to save; by a gracious proclamation of full forgiveness of sin in the blood of Christ; by a winning revelation of the spiritual order and the spiritual world; and by the moving example of His own perfect life in the conditions of this world; but, above all, by the purchase of the gift of the Holy Spirit for His people as a power not themselves making for righteousness dwelling within them, and supernaturally regenerating their hearts and conforming their lives to His image, and so preparing them for their permanent place in the new order of things which, flowing from this redeeming work, shall ultimately be established as the eternal form of the Kingdom of God.

3. VARIOUS THEORIES

Of course, this great comprehensive doctrine of "the satisfaction of Christ" has not been permitted to hold the field without controversy. Many "theories of the atonement" have been constructed, each throwing into emphasis a fragment of the truth, to the neglect or denial of the complementary elements, including ordinarily the central matter of the expiation of guilt itself (cf. T. J. Crawford, "The Doctrine of Holy Scripture respecting the Atonement," Edinburgh, 1888, pp. 395-401; A. B. Bruce, "The Humiliation of Christ," Edinburgh, 1881, lecture 7; A. A. Hodge, "The Atonement," Philadelphia, 1867, pp. 17 ff.). Each main form of these theories, in some method of statement or other, has at one time or another seemed on the point of becoming the common doctrine of the churches. In the patristic age men spoke with such predilection of the work of Christ as issuing in our deliverance from the power of Satan that the false impression is very readily obtained from a cursory survey of the teaching of the Fathers that they predominantly conceived it as directed to that sole end. The so-called "mystical" view, which had representatives among the Greek Fathers and has always had advocates in the Church, appeared about the middle of the last century almost ready to become dominant in at least Continental Protestantism through the immense influence of Schleiermacher. The "rectoral or governmental theory," invented by Grotius early in the seventeenth century in the effort to save something from the assault of the Socinians, has ever since provided a half-way house for those who, while touched by the chilling breath of rationalism, have yet not been ready to surrender every semblance of an "objective atonement," and has therefore come very prominently forward in every era of decaying faith. The "moral influence" theory, which in the person of perhaps the acutest of all the scholastic reasoners, Peter Abelard, confronted the doctrine of "satisfaction" at its formulation, in its vigorous promulgation by the Socinians and again by the lower class of rationalists obtained the widest currency; and again in our own day its enthusiastic advocates, by perhaps a not unnatural illusion, are tempted to claim for it the final victory (so e.g. G. B. Stevens, "The Christian Doctrine of Salvation," New York, 1905; but cf. per contra, of the same school, T. V. Tymms, "The Christian Idea of Atonement," London, 1904, p. 8). But no one of these theories, however attractively they may be presented, or however wide an acceptance each may from time to time have found in academic circles, has ever been able to supplant the doctrine of "satisfaction," either in the formal creeds of the churches, or in the hearts of simple believers. Despite the fluidity of much recent thinking on the subject, the doctrine of "satisfaction" remains to-day the established doctrine of the churches as to the nature of Christ's work of redemption, and is apparently immovably entrenched in the hearts of the Christian body (cf. J. B. Remensnyder, "The Atonement and Modern Thought," Philadelphia, 1905, p. xvi.).

II. THE FIVE CHIEF THEORIES OF THE ATONEMENT

A survey of the various theories of the Atonement which have been broached, may be made from many points of view (cf. especially the survey in T. G. Crawford, ut sup., pp. 285-401; Bruce, ut sup., lecture 7; and for recent German views, F. A. B. Nitzsch, "Lehrbuch der evangelischen Dogmatik," Freiburg, 1892, part 2, §§ 43-46; O. Bensow, "Die Lehre von der Versöhnung," Gütersloh, 1904, pp. 7-153; G. A. F. Ecklin, "Erlösung und Versöhnung," Basel, 1903, part 4). Perhaps as good a method as any other is to arrange them according to the conception each entertains of the person or persons on whom the work of Christ terminates. When so arranged they fall naturally into five classes which may be enumerated here in the ascending order.

1. Theories which conceive the work of Christ as terminating upon Satan, so affecting him as to secure the release of the souls held in bondage by him. These theories, which have been described as emphasizing the "triumphantorial" aspect of Christ's work (Ecklin, ut sup., p. 113) had very considerable vogue in the patristic age (e.g. Irenaeus, Hippolytus, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Basil, the two Gregories, Cyril of Alexandria, down to and including John of Damascus and Nicholas of Methone; Hilary, Rufinus, Jerome, Augustine, Leo the Great, and even so late as Bernard). They passed out of view only gradually as the doctrine of "satisfaction" became more widely known. Not only does the thought of a Bernard still run in this channel, but even Luther utilized the conception. The idea runs through many forms - speaking in some of them of buying off, in some of overcoming, in some even of outwitting (so e.g. Origen) the devil. But it would be unfair to suppose that such theories represent in any of their forms the whole thought as to the work of Christ of those who made use of them, or were considered by them a scientific statement of the work of Christ. They rather embody only their author's profound sense of the bondage in which men are held to sin and death, and vividly set forth the rescue they conceive Christ has wrought for us in overcoming him who has the power of death.

2. Theories which conceive the work of Christ as terminating physically on man, so affecting him as to bring him by an interior and hidden working upon him into participation with the one life of Christ; the so-called "mystical theories." The fundamental characteristic of these theories is their discovery of the saving fact not in anything which Christ taught or did, but in what He was. It is upon the Incarnation, rather than upon Christ's teaching or His work that they throw stress, attributing the saving power of Christ not to what He does for us but to what He does in us. Tendencies to this type of theory are already traceable in the Platonizing Fathers; and with the entrance of the more developed Neoplatonism into the stream of Christian thinking, through the writings of the Pseudo-Dionysius naturalized in the West by Johannes Scotus Erigena, a constant tradition of mystical teaching began which never died out. In the Reformation age this type of thought was represented by men like Osiander, Schwenckfeld, Franck, Weigel, Boehme. In the modern Church a new impulse was given to essentially the same mode of conception by Schleiermacher and his followers (e.g. C. I. Nitzsch, Rothe, Schöberlein, Lange, Martensen), among whom what is known as the "Mercersburg School" (see "Mercersburg Theology") will be particularly interesting to Americans (e.g. J. W. Nevin, "The Mystical Presence," Philadelphia, 1846). A very influential writer among English theologians of the same general class was F. D. Maurice (1805-1872), although he added to his fundamental mystical conception of the work of Christ the further notions that Christ fully identified Himself with us and, thus partaking of our sufferings, set us a perfect example of sacrifice of self to God (cf. especially "Theological Essays," London, 1853; "The Doctrine of Sacrifice," Cambridge, 1854; new edition, London, 1879). Here, too, must be classed the theory suggested in the writings of the late B. F. Westcott ("The Victory of the Cross," London, 1888), which was based on a hypothesis of the efficacy of Christ's blood, borrowed apparently directly from William Milligan (cf. "The Ascension and Heavenly Priesthood of our Lord," London, 1892), though it goes back ultimately to the Socinians, to the effect that Christ's offering of Himself is not to be identified with His sufferings and death, but rather with the presentation of His life (which is in His blood, set free by death for this purpose) in heaven. "Taking that Blood as efficacious by virtue of the vitality which it contains, he [Dr. Westcott] holds that it was set free from Christ's Body that it might vitalize ours, as it were by transfusion" (C. H. Waller, in the Presbyterian and Reformed Review, iii. 1892, p. 656). Somewhat similarly H. Clay Trumbull ("The Blood Covenant," New York, 1885) looks upon sacrifices as only a form of blood covenanting, that is, of instituting blood-brotherhood between man and God by transfusion of blood; and explains the sacrifice of Christ as representing communing in blood, that is, in the principle of life, between God and man, both of whom Christ represents. The theory which has been called "salvation by sample," or salvation "by gradually extirpated depravity," also has its affinities here. Something like it is as old as Felix of Urgel (d. 818; see "Adoptionism"), and it has been taught in its full development by Dippel (1673-1734), Swedenborg (1688-1772), Menken (1768-1831), and especially by Edward Irving (1792-1834), and, of course, by the modern followers of Swedenborg (e.g. B. F. Barrett). The essence of this theory is that what was assumed by our Lord was human nature as He found it, that is, as fallen; and that this human nature, as assumed by Him, was by the power of His divine nature (or of the Holy Spirit dwelling in Him beyond measure) not only kept from sinning, but purified from sin and presented perfect before God as the first-fruits of a saved humanity; men being saved as they become partakers (by faith) of this purified humanity, as they become leavened by this new leaven. Certain of the elements which the great German theologian J. C. K. von Hofmann built into his complicated and not altogether stable theory - a theory which was the occasion of much discussion about the middle of the nineteenth century - reproduce some of the characteristic language of the theory of "salvation by sample."

3. Theories which conceive the work of Christ as terminating on man, in the way of bringing to bear on him inducements to action; so affecting man as to lead him to a better knowledge of God, or to a more lively sense of his real relation to God, or to a revolutionary change of heart and life with reference to God; the so-called "moral influence theories." The essence of all these theories is that they transfer the atoning fact from the work of Christ to the response of the human soul to the influences or appeals proceeding from the work of Christ. The work of Christ takes immediate effect not on God but on man, leading him to a state of mind and heart which will be acceptable to God, through the medium of which alone can the work of Christ be said to affect God. At its highest level, this will mean that the work of Christ is directed to leading man to repentance and faith, which repentance and faith secure God's favor, an effect which can be attributed to Christ's work only mediately, that is, through the medium of the repentance and faith it produces in man. Accordingly, it has become quite common to say, in this school, that "it is faith and repentance which change the face of God"; and advocates of this class of theories sometimes say with entire frankness, "There is no atonement other than repentance" (Auguste Sabatier, "La Doctrine de l'expiation et son evolution historique," Paris, 1901, E.T. London, 1904, p. 127).

Theories of this general type differ from one another, according as, among the instrumentalities by means of which Christ affects the minds and hearts and actions of men, the stress is laid upon His teaching, or His example, or the impression made by His life of faith, or the manifestation of the infinite love of God afforded by His total mission. The most powerful presentation of the first of these conceptions ever made was probably that of the Socinians (followed later by the rationalists, both earlier and later, - Töllner, Bahrdt, Steinbart, Eberhard, Löffler, Henke, Wegscheider). They looked upon the work of Christ as summed up in the proclamation of the willingness of God to forgive sin, on the sole condition of its abandonment; and explained His sufferings and death as merely those of a martyr in the cause of righteousness or in some other non-essential way. The theories which lay the stress of Christ's work on the example He has set us of a high and faithful life, or of a life of self-sacrificing love, have found popular representatives not only in the subtle theory with which F. D. Maurice pieced out his mystical view, and in the somewhat amorphous ideas with which the great preacher F. W. Robertson clothed his conception of Christ's life as simply a long (and hopeless) battle against the evil of the world to which it at last succumbed; but more lately in writers like Auguste Sabatier, who does not stop short of transmuting Christianity into bald altruism, and making it into what he calls the religion of "universal redemption by love," that is to say, anybody's love, not specifically Christ's love - for every one who loves takes his position by Christ's side as, if not equally, yet as truly, a saviour as He ("The Doctrine of the Atonement in its Historical Evolution," ut sup., pp. 131-134; so also Otto Pfleiderer, "Das Christusbild des urchristlichen Glaubens in religionsgeschichtlicher Beleuchtung," Berlin, 1903, E.T. London, 1905, pp. 164-165; cf. Horace Bushnell, "Vicarious Sacrifice," New York, 1865, p. 107: "Vicarious sacrifice was in no way peculiar"). In this same general category belongs also the theory which Albrecht Ritschl has given such wide influence. According to it, the work of Christ consists in the establishment of the Kingdom of God in the world, that is, in the revelation of God's love to men and His gracious purposes for men. Thus Jesus becomes the first object of this love and as such its mediator to others; His sufferings and death being, on the one side, a test of His steadfastness, and, on the other, the crowning proof of His obedience ("Rechtfertigung und Versöhnung," iii. §§ 41-61, ed. 3, Bonn, 1888, E.T. Edinburgh, 1900). Similarly also, though with many modifications, which are in some instances not insignificant, such writers as W. Herrmann ("Der Verkehr des Christen mit Gott," Stuttgart, 1886, p. 93, E.T. London, 1895), J. Kaftan ("Dogmatik," Tübingen, 1901, pp. 454 ff.), F. A. B. Nitzsch ("Lehrbuch der evangelischen Dogmatik," Freiburg, 1892, pp. 504-513), T. Häring (in his "Ueber das Bleibende im Glauben an Christus," Stuttgart, 1880, where he sought to complete Ritschl's view by the addition of the idea that Christ offered to God a perfect sorrow for the world's sin, which supplements our imperfect repentance; in his later writings, "Zu Ritschl's Versöhnungslehre," Zurich, 1888, "Zur Versöhnungslehre," Göttingen, 1893, he assimilates to the Grotian theory), E. Kühl ("Die Heilsbedeutung des Todes Christi," Berlin, 1890), G. A. F. Ecklin (" Der Heilswert des Todes Jesu," Gütersloh, 1888; "Christus unser Bürge," Basel, 1901; and especially "Erlösung und Versöhnung," Basel, 1903, which is an elaborate history of the doctrine from the point of view of what Ecklin calls in antagonism to the "substitutional-expiatory" conception, the "solidaric-reparatory" conception of the Atonement - the conception, that is, that Christ comes to save men not primarily from the guilt, but from the power of sin, and that "the sole satisfaction God demands for His outraged honor is the restoration of obedience," p. 648). The most popular form of the "moral influence" theories has always been that in which the stress is laid on the manifestation made in the total mission and work of Christ of the ineffable and searching love of God for sinners, which, being perceived, breaks down our opposition to God, melts our hearts, and brings us as prodigals home to the Father's arms. It is in this form that the theory was advocated (but with the suggestion that there is another side to it), for example, by S. T. Coleridge ("Aids to Reflection"), and that it was commended to English-speaking readers of the last generation with the highest ability by John Young of Edinburgh ("The Life and Light of Men," London, 1866), and with the greatest literary attractiveness by Horace Bushnell ("Vicarious Sacrifice," New York, 1865; see below, § 7; see also article "Bushnell, Horace"); and has been more recently set forth in elaborate and vigorously polemic form by W. N. Clarke ("An Outline of Christian Theology," New York, 1898, pp. 340-368), T. Vincent Tymms ("The Christian Idea of Atonement," London, 1904), G. B. Stevens ("The Christian Doctrine of Salvation," New York, 1905), and C. M. Mead ("Irenic Theology," New York, 1905).

In a volume of essays published first in the Andover Review (iv. 1885, pp. 56 ff.) and afterward gathered into a volume under the title of "Progressive Orthodoxy" (Boston, 1886), the professors in Andover Seminary made an attempt (the writer here being, as was understood, George Harris) to enrich the "moral influence" theory of the Atonement after a fashion quite common in Germany (cf. e.g. Häring, ut sup.) with elements derived from other well-known forms of teaching. In this construction, Christ's work is made to consist primarily in bringing to bear on man a revelation of God's hatred of sin, and love for souls, by which He makes man capable of repentance and leads him to repent revolutionarily; by this repentance, then, together with Christ's own sympathetic expression of repentance God is rendered propitious. Here Christ's work is supposed to have at least some (though a secondary) effect upon God; and a work of propitiation of God by Christ may be spoken of, although it is accomplished by a "sympathetic repentance." It has accordingly become usual with those who have adopted this mode of representation to say that there was in this atoning work, not indeed "a substitution of a sinless Christ for a sinful race," but a "substitution of humanity plus Christ for humanity minus Christ." By such curiously compacted theories the transition is made to the next class.

4. Theories which conceive the work of Christ as terminating on both man and God, but on man primarily and on God only secondarily. The outstanding instance of this class of theories is supplied by the so-called "rectoral or governmental theories." These suppose that the work of Christ so affects man by the spectacle of the sufferings borne by Him as to deter men from sin; and by thus deterring men from sin enables God to forgive sin with safety to His moral government of the world. In these theories the sufferings and death of Christ become, for the first time in this conspectus of theories, of cardinal importance, constituting indeed the very essence of the work of Christ. But the atoning fact here too, no less than in the "moral influence" theories, is man's own reformation, though this reformation is supposed in the rectoral view to be wrought not primarily by breaking down man's opposition to God by a moving manifestation of the love of God in Christ, but by inducing in man a horror of sin, through the spectacle of God's hatred of sin afforded by the sufferings of Christ - through which, no doubt, the contemplation of man is led on to God's love to sinners as exhibited in His willingness to inflict all these sufferings on His own Son, that He might be enabled, with justice to His moral government, to forgive sins.

This theory was worked out by the great Dutch jurist Hugo Grotius ("Defensio fidei catholicae de satisfactione Christi," Leyden, 1617; modern edition, Oxford, 1856; E.T. with notes and introduction by F. H. Foster, Andover, 1889) as an attempt to save what was salvable of the established doctrine of satisfaction from disintegration under the attacks of the Socinian advocates of the "moral influence" theories (see "Grotius, Hugo"). It was at once adopted by those Arminians who had been most affected by the Socinian reasoning; and in the next age became the especial property of the better class of the so-called supranaturalists (Michaelis, Storr, Morus, Knapp, Steudel, Reinhard, Muntinghe, Vinke, Egeling). It has remained on the continent of Europe to this day, the refuge of most of those, who, influenced by the modern spirit, yet wish to preserve some form of "objective," that is, of God-ward atonement. A great variety of representations have grown up under this influence, combining elements of the satisfaction and rectoral views. To name but a single typical instance, the commentator F. Godet, both in his commentaries (especially that on Romans) and in a more recent essay (published in "The Atonement in Modern Religious Thought," by various writers, London, 1900, pp. 331 ff.), teaches (certainly in a very high form) the rectoral theory distinctly (and is corrected therefor by his colleague at Neuchatel, Professor Gretillat, who wishes an "ontological" rather than a merely "demonstrative" necessity for atonement to be recognized). Its history has run on similar lines in English-speaking countries. In Great Britain and America alike it has become practically the orthodoxy of the Independents. It has, for example, been taught as such in the former country by Joseph Gilbert ("The Christian Atonement," London, 1836), and in especially wellworked-out forms by R. W. Dale ("The Atonement," London, 1876) and Alfred Cave ("The Scriptural Doctrine of Sacrifice," Edinburgh, 1877; new edition with title, "The Scriptural Doctrine of Sacrifice and Atonement," 1890; and in "The Atonement in Modern Religious Thought," ut sup., pp. 250 ff.). When the Calvinism of the New England Puritans began to break down, one of the symptoms of its decay was the gradual substitution of the rectoral for the satisfaction view of the Atonement. The process may be traced in the writings of Joseph Bellamy (1719-1790), Samuel Hopkins (1721-1803), John Smalley (1734-1820), Stephen West (1735-1819), Jonathan Edwards, Jr. (1745-1801), Nathanael Emmons (1745-1840); and Edwards A. Park was able, accordingly, in the middle of the nineteenth century to set the rectoral theory forth as the "traditional orthodox doctrine" of the American Congregationalists ("The Atonement: Discourses and Treatises by Edwards, Smalley, Maxcy, Emmons, Griffin, Burge, and Weeks, with an Introductory Essay by Edwards A. Park," Boston, 1859; cf. Daniel T. Fisk, in the Bibliotheca Sacra, xviii. 1861, pp. 284 ff., and further N. S. S. Beman, "Four Sermons on the Doctrine of the Atonement," Troy, 1825, new edition with title "Christ, the only Sacrifice: or the Atonement in its Relations to God and Man," New York, 1844; N.W. Taylor, "Lectures on the Moral Government of God," New York, 1859; Albert Barnes, "The Atonement, in its Relations to Law and Moral Government," Philadelphia, 1859; Frank H. Foster, "Christian Life and Theology," New York, 1900; Lewis F. Stearns, "Present Day Theology," New York, 1893). The early Wesleyans also gravitated toward the rectoral theory, though not without some hesitation, a hesitation which has sustained itself among British Wesleyans until to-day (cf. e.g. W. B. Pope, "Compendium of Christian Theology," London, 1875; Marshall Randles, "Substitution: a Treatise on the Atonement," London, 1877; T. O. Summers, "Systematic Theology," 2 vols., Nashville, Tenn., 1888; J. J. Tigert, in the Methodist Quarterly Review, April, 1884), although many among them have taught the rectoral theory with great distinctness and decision (e.g. Joseph Agar Beet, in the Expositor, Fourth Series, vi. 1892, pp. 343-355; "Through Christ to God," London, 1893). On the other hand, the rectoral theory has been the regnant one among American Methodists and has received some of its best statements from their hands (cf. especially John Miley, "The Atonement in Christ," New York, 1879; "Systematic Theology," New York, ii. 1894, pp. 65-240), although there are voices raised of late in denial of its claim to be considered distinctively the doctrine of the Methodist Church (J. J. Tigert, ut sup.; H. C. Sheldon, in The American Journal of Theology, x. 1906, pp. 41-42).

The final form which Horace Bushnell gave his version of the "moral influence" theory, in his "Forgiveness and Law" (New York, 1874; made the second volume to his revised "Vicarious Sacrifice," 1877), stands in no relation to the rectoral theories; but it requires to be mentioned here by their side, because it supposes like them that the work of Christ has a secondary effect on God, although its primary effect is on man. In this presentation, Bushnell represents Christ's work as consisting in a profound identification of Himself with man, the effect of which is, on the one side, to manifest God's love to man and so to conquer man to Him, and, on the other, as he expresses it, "to make cost" on God's part for man, and so, by breaking down God's resentment to man, to prepare God's heart to receive man back when he comes. The underlying idea is that whenever we do anything for those who have injured us, and in proportion as it costs us something to do it, our natural resentment of the injury we have suffered is undermined, and we are prepared to forgive the injury when forgiveness is sought. By this theory the transition is naturally made to the next class.

5. Theories which conceive the work of Christ as terminating primarily on God and secondarily on man. The lowest form in which this ultimate position can be said to be fairly taken, is doubtless that set forth in his remarkably attractive way by John McLeod Campbell ("The Nature of the Atonement and its Relation to Remission of Sins and Eternal Life," London, 1856; ed. 4, 1873), and lately argued out afresh with even more than Campbell's winningness and far more than his cogency, depth, and richness, by the late R. C. Moberly ("Atonement and Personality," London, 1901). This theory supposes that our Lord, by sympathetically entering into our condition (an idea independently suggested by Schleiermacher, and emphasized by many Continental thinkers, as, for example, to name only a pair with little else in common, by Gess and Häring), so keenly felt our sins as His own, that He could confess and adequately repent of them before God; and this is all the expiation justice asks. Here "sympathetic identification" replaces the conception of substitution; "sodality," of race-unity; and "repentance," of expiation. Nevertheless, the theory rises immeasurably above the mass of those already enumerated, in looking upon Christ as really a Saviour, who performs a really saving work, terminating immediately on God. Despite its insufficiencies, therefore, which have caused writers like Edwards A. Park, and A. B. Bruce ("The Humiliation of Christ," ut sup., pp. 317-318) to speak of it with a tinge of contempt, it has exercised a very wide influence and elements of it are discoverable in many constructions which stand far removed from its fundamental presuppositions.

The so-called "middle theory" of the Atonement, which owes its name to its supposed intermediate position between the "moral influence" theories and the doctrine of "satisfaction," seems to have offered attractions to the latitudinarian writers of the closing eighteenth and opening nineteenth centuries. At that time it was taught in John Balguy's "Essay on Redemption" (London, 1741), Henry Taylor's "Apology of Ben Mordecai" (London, 1784), and Richard Price's "Sermons on Christian Doctrine" (London, 1787; cf. Hill's "Lectures in Divinity," ed. 1851, pp. 422 ff.). Basing on the conception of sacrifices which looks upon them as merely gifts designed to secure the good-will of the King, the advocates of this theory regard the work of Christ as consisting in the offering to God of Christ's perfect obedience even to death, and by it purchasing God's favor and the right to do as He would with those whom God gave Him as a reward. By the side of this theory may be placed the ordinary Remonstrant theory of acceptilatio, which, reviving this Scotist conception, is willing to allow that the work of Christ was of the nature of an expiatory sacrifice, but is unwilling to allow that His blood any more than that of "bulls and goats" had intrinsic value equivalent to the fault for which it was graciously accepted by God as an atonement. This theory may be found expounded, for example, in Limborch ("Theologia Christiana," ed. 4, Amsterdam, 1715, iii. chaps. xviii.-xxiii.). Such theories, while preserving the sacrificial form of the Biblical doctrine, and, with it, its inseparable implication that the work of Christ has as its primary end to affect God and secure from Him favorable regard for man (for it is always to God that sacrifices are offered), yet fall so far short of the Biblical doctrine of the nature and effect of Christ's sacrifice as to seem little less than travesties of it.

The Biblical doctrine of the sacrifice of Christ finds full recognition in no other construction than that of the established church-doctrine of satisfaction. According to it, our Lord's redeeming work is at its core a true and perfect sacrifice offered to God, of intrinsic value ample for the expiation of our guilt; and at the same time is a true and perfect righteousness offered to God in fulfillment of the demands of His law; both the one and the other being offered in behalf of His people, and, on being accepted by God, accruing to their benefit; so that by this satisfaction they are relieved at once from the curse of their guilt as breakers of the law, and from the burden of the law as a condition of life; and this by a work of such kind and performed in such a manner, as to carry home to the hearts of men a profound sense of the indefectible righteousness of God and to make to them a perfect revelation of His love; so that, by this one and indivisible work, both God is reconciled to us, and we, under the quickening influence of the Spirit bought for us by it, are reconciled to God, so making peace - external peace between an angry God and sinful men, and internal peace in the response of the human conscience to the restored smile of God. This doctrine, which has been incorporated in more or less fullness of statement in the creedal declarations of all the great branches of the Church, Greek, Latin, Lutheran, and Reformed, and which has been expounded with more or less insight and power by the leading doctors of the churches for the last eight hundred years, was first given scientific statement by Anselm (q.v.) in his "Cur Deus homo" (1098); but reached its complete development only at the hands of the so-called Protestant Scholastics of the seventeenth century (cf. e.g. Turretin, "The Atonement of Christ," E.T. by J. R. Willson, New York, 1859; John Owen, "The Death of Death in the Death of Christ" (1648), Edinburgh, 1845). Among the numerous modern presentations of the doctrine the following may perhaps be most profitably consulted. Of Continental writers: August Tholuck, "Die Lehre von der Sünde und vom Versöhner," Hamburg, 1823; F. A. Philippi, "Kirchliche Glaubenslehre" (Stuttgart and Gütersloh, 1854-1882), IV. ii. 1863, pp. 24 ff.; G. Thomasius, "Christi Person und Werk," ed. 3, Erlangen, 1886-1888, vol. ii.; E. Böhl, "Dogmatik," Amsterdam, 1887, pp. 361 ff.; J. F. Bula, "Die Versöhnung des Menschen mit Gott durch Christum," Basel, 1874; W. Kolling, "Die Satisfactio vicaria," 2 vols., Gütersloh, 1897-1899; Merle d'Aubigné, "L'Expiation de la croix," Geneva, 1867; A. Gretillat, "Exposé de théologie systématique" (Paris, 1885-1892), iv. 1890, pp. 278 ff.; A. Kuyper, "E Voto Dordraceno," Amsterdam, i. 1892, pp. 79 ff., 388 ff.; H. Bavinck, "Gereformeerde Dogmatick," Kampen, iii. 1898, pp. 302-424. Of writers in English: The appropriate sections of the treatises on dogmatics by C. Hodge, A. H. Strong, W. G. T. Shedd, R. L. Dabney; and the following separate treatises: W. Symington, "On the Atonement and Intercession of Jesus Christ," New York, 1853 (defective, as excluding the "active obedience" of Christ); R. S. Candlish, "The Atonement: its Efficacy and Extent," Edinburgh, 1867; A. A. Hodge, "The Atonement," Philadelphia, 1867, new edition, 1877; George Smeaton, "The Doctrine of the Atonement as Taught by Christ Himself," Edinburgh, 1868, ed. 2, 1871; idem, "The Doctrine of the Atonement as Taught by the Apostles," 1870; T. J. Crawford, "The Doctrine of Holy Scripture respecting the Atonement," Edinburgh, 1871, ed. 5, 1888; Hugh Martin, "The Atonement: in its Relations to the Covenant, the Priesthood, the Intercession of our Lord," London, 1870. See " Satisfaction."

BIBLIOGRAPHY: The more important treatises on the Atonement have been named in the body of the article. The history of the doctrine has been written with a fair degree of objectivity by Ferdinand Christian Baur, "Die christliche Lehre von der Versöhnung in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung," Tübingen, 1838; and with more subjectivity by Albrecht Ritschl in the first volume of his "Die christliche Lehre von der Rechtfertigung und Versöhnung," ed. 3, Bonn, 1889, E.T. from the first edition, 1870, "A Critical History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification and Reconciliation," Edinburgh; 1872. Excellent historical sketches are given by G. Thomasius, in the second volume of his "Christi Person und Werk," pp. 113 ff., ed. 3, Erlangen, 1888, from the confessional, and by F. A. B. Nitzsch, in his "Lehrbuch der evangelischen Dogmatik," pp. 457 ff., Freiburg, 1892, from the moral influence standpoint. More recently the history has been somewhat sketchily written from the general confessional standpoint by Oscar Bensow as the first part of his "Die Lehre von der Versöhnung," Gütersloh, 1904, and with more fullness from the moral influence standpoint by G. A. F. Ecklin, in his "Erlösung und Versöhnung," Basel, 1903. Consult also E. Ménégoz, "La Mort de Jésus et le dogme de l'expiation," Paris, 1905. The English student of the history of the doctrine has at his disposal not only the sections in the general histories of doctrine (e.g. Hagenbach, Cunningham, Shedd, Harnack) and the comprehensive treatise of Ritschl mentioned above, but also interesting sketches in the appendices of G. Smeaton's "The Doctrine of the Atonement as Taught by the Apostles," Edinburgh, 1870, and J. S. Lidgett's "The Spiritual Principle of the Atonement," London, 1897, from the confessional standpoint, as well as H. N. Oxenham's "The Catholic Doctrine of the Atonement," London, 1865, ed. 3, 1881, from the Roman Catholic standpoint. Consult also: J. B. Remensnyder, "The Atonement and Modern Thought," Philadelphia, 1905; D. W. Simon, "The Redemption of Man," Edinburgh, 1889; C. A. Dinsmore, "Atonement in Literature and Life," Boston, 1906; L. Pullan, "The Atonement," London, 1906. An interesting episode is treated by Andrew Robertson, "History of the Atonement Controversy in the Secession Church," Edinburgh, 1846.

Modern Theories of the Atonement1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

We may as well confess at the outset that there is no such thing as a modern theory of the Atonement, in the sense in which there is a modern theory, say, of the Incarnation - the kenosis theory to wit, which is a brand-new conception, never dreamed of until the nineteenth century was well on its course, and likely, we may hope, to pass out of notice with that century. All the theories of the Atonement now current readily arrange themselves under the old categories, and have their prototypes running back more or less remotely into the depths of Church history.

The fact is, the views men take of the atonement are largely determined by their fundamental feelings of need - by what men most long to be saved from. And from the beginning three well-marked types of thought on this subject have been traceable, corresponding to three fundamental needs of human nature as it unfolds itself in this world of limitation. Men are oppressed by the ignorance, or by the misery, or by the sin in which they feel themselves sunk; and, looking to Christ to deliver them from the evil under which they particularly labor, they are apt to conceive His work as consisting predominantly in revelation of divine knowledge, or in the inauguration of a reign of happiness, or in deliverance from the curse of sin.

In the early Church, the intellectualistic tendency allied itself with the class of phenomena which we call Gnosticism. The longing for peace and happiness that was the natural result of the crying social evils of the time, found its most remarkable expression in what we know as Chiliasm. That no such party-name suggests itself to describe the manifestation given to the longing to be delivered from the curse of sin, does not mean that this longing was less prominent or less poignant: but precisely the contrary. The other views were sloughed off as heresies, and each received its appropriate designation as such: this was the fundamental point of sight of the Church itself, and as such found expression in numberless ways, some of which, no doubt, were sufficiently bizarre - as, for example, the somewhat widespread representation of the atonement as centering in the surrender of Jesus as a ransom to Satan.

Our modern Church, you will not need me to tell you, is very much like the early Church in all this. All three of these tendencies find as full representation in present-day thought as in any age of the Church's life. Perhaps at no other period was Christ so frequently or so passionately set forth as merely a social Saviour. Certainly at no other period has His work been so prevalently summed up in mere revelation. While now, as ever, the hope of Christians at large continues to be set upon Him specifically as the Redeemer from sin.

The forms in which these fundamental types of thinking are clothed in our modern days, differ, as a matter of course, greatly from those they assumed in the first age. This difference is largely the result of the history of thought through the intervening centuries. The assimilation of the doctrines of revelation by the Church was a gradual process; and it was also an orderly process - the several doctrines emerging in the Christian consciousness for formal discussion and scientific statement in a natural sequence. In this process the doctrine of the atonement did not come up for formulation until the eleventh century, when Anselm gave it its first really fruitful treatment, and laid down for all time the general lines on which the atonement must be conceived, if it is thought of as a work of deliverance from the penalty of sin. The influence of Anselm's discussion is not only traceable, but has been determining in all subsequent thought down to to-day. The doctrine of satisfaction set forth by him has not been permitted, however, to make its way unopposed. Its extreme opposite - the general conception that the atoning work of Christ finds its essence in revelation and had its prime effect, therefore, in deliverance from error - was advocated in Anselm's own day by perhaps the acutest reasoner of all the schoolmen, Peter Abelard. The intermediate view which was apparently invented five centuries later by the great Dutch jurist, Hugo Grotius, loves to think of itself as running back, in germ at least, to nearly as early a date. In the thousand years of conflict which has raged among these generic conceptions each has taken on protean shapes, and a multitude of mixed or mediating hypotheses have been constructed. But, broadly speaking, the theories that have divided the suffrages of men easily take places under one or other of these three types.

There is a fourth general conception, to be sure, which would need to be brought into view were we studying exhaustive enumeration. This is the mystical idea which looks upon the work of Christ as summed up in the incarnation; and upon the saving process as consisting in an unobserved leavening of mankind by the inworking of a vital germ then planted in the mass. But though there never was an age in which this idea failed entirely of representation, it bears a certain aristocratic character which has commended it ordinarily only to the few, however fit: and it probably never was very widely held except during the brief period when the immense genius of Schleiermacher so overshadowed the Church that it could hardly think at all save in the formulas taught by him. Broadly speaking, the field has been held practically by the three theories which are commonly designated by the names of Anselm, Grotius, and Abelard; and age has differed from age only in the changing expression given these theories and the relative dominance of one or another of them.

The Reformers, it goes without saying, were enthusiastic preachers of the Anselmic conception - of course as corrected, developed, and enriched by their own deeper thought and truer insight. Their successors adjusted, expounded, and defended its details, until it stood forth in the seventeenth century dogmatics in practical completeness. During this whole period this conception held the field; the numerous controversies that arose about it were rather joined with the Socinian or the mystic than internal to the circle of recognized Church teachers. It was not until the rise of Rationalism that a widely spread defection became observable. Under this blight men could no longer believe in the substitutive expiation which is the heart of the Anselmic doctrine, and a blood-bought redemption went much out of fashion. The dainty Supranaturalists attained the height only of the Grotian view, and allowed only a "demonstrative" as distinguished from an "ontological" necessity for an atonement, and an "executive" as distinguished from a "judicial" effect to it. The great evangelical revivals of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, however, swept away all that. It is probable that a half-century ago the doctrine of penal satisfaction had so strong a hold on the churches that not more than an academic interest attached to rival theories.

About that time a great change began to set in. I need only to mention such names as those of Horace Bushnell, McLeod Campbell, Frederick Dennison Maurice, Albrecht Ritschl, to suggest the strength of the assault that was suddenly delivered against the central ideas of an expiatory atonement. The immediate effect was to call out an equally powerful defense. Our best treatises on the atonement come from this period; and Presbyterians in particular may well be proud of the part played by them in the crisis. But this defense only stemmed the tide: it did not succeed in rolling it back. The ultimate result has been that the revolt from the conceptions of satisfaction, propitiation, expiation, sacrifice, reinforced continually by tendencies adverse to evangelical doctrine peculiar to our times, has grown steadily more and more widespread, and in some quarters more and more extreme, until it has issued in an immense confusion on this central doctrine of the gospel. Voices are raised all about us proclaiming a "theory" of the atonement impossible, while many of those that essay a "theory" seem to be feeling their tortuous way very much in the dark. That, if I mistake not, is the real state of affairs in the modern Church.

I am not meaning to imply that the doctrine of substitutive atonement - which is, after all, the very heart of the gospel - has been lost from the consciousness of the Church. It has not been lost from the hearts of the Christian community. It is in its terms that the humble Christian everywhere still expresses the grounds of his hope of salvation. It is in its terms that the earnest evangelist everywhere still presses the claims of Christ upon the awakened hearer. It has not even been lost from the forum of theological discussion. It still commands powerful advocates wherever a vital Christianity enters academical circles: and, as a rule, the more profound the thinker, the more clear is the note he strikes in its proclamation and defense. But if we were to judge only by the popular literature of the day - a procedure happily not possible - the doctrine of a substitutive atonement has retired well into the background. Probably the majority of those who hold the public ear, whether as academical or as popular religious guides, have definitely broken with it, and are commending to their audiences something other and, as they no doubt believe, something very much better. A tone of speech has even grown up regarding it which is not only scornful but positively abusive. There are no epithets too harsh to be applied to it, no invectives too intense to be poured out on it. An honored bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church tells us that "the whole theory of substitutional punishment as a ground either of conditional or unconditional pardon is unethical, contradictory, and self-subversive."2 He may rightly claim to be speaking in this sweeping sentence with marked discretion and unwonted charity. To do justice to the hateful theme requires, it seems, the tumid turmoil and rushing rant of Dr. Farrar's rhetoric. Surely if hard words broke bones, the doctrine of the substitutional sacrifice of the Son of God for the sin of man would long ago have been ground to powder.

What, then, are we offered instead of it? We have already intimated that it is confusion which reigns here: and in any event we cannot go into details. We may try, however, to set down in few words the general impression that the most recent literature of the subject makes.

To obtain a just view of the situation, I think we ought to note, first of all, the wide prevalence among the sounder thinkers of the Grotian or Rectoral theory of the atonement - the theory, that is, that conceives the work of Christ not as supplying the ground on which God forgives sin, but only as supplying the ground on which He may safely forgive sins on the sole ground of His compassion. The theory of hypothetical universalism, according to which Christ died as the proper substitute for all men on the condition, namely, that they should believe - whether in its Remonstrant or in its Amyraldian form - has in the conflict of theories long since been crushed out of existence - as, indeed, it well deserved to be. This having been shoved out of the way, the Grotian theory has come to be the orthodox Arminian view and is taught as such by the leading exponents of modern Arminian thought whether in Britain or America; and he who will read the powerful argumentation to that effect by the late Dr. John Miley, say, for example, will be compelled to agree that it is, indeed, the highest form of atonement-doctrine conformable to the Arminian system. But not only is it thus practically universal among the Wesleyan Arminians. It has become also, under the influence of such teachers as Drs. Wardlaw and Dale and Dr. Park, the mark also of orthodox Nonconformity in Great Britain and of orthodox Congregationalism in America. Nor has it failed to take a strong hold also of Scottish Presbyterianism: it is specifically advocated by such men of mark and leading as, for example, Dr. Marcus Dods. On the Continent of Europe it is equally widespread among the saner teachers: one notes without surprise, for example, that it was taught by the late Dr. Frederic Godet, though one notes with satisfaction that it was considerably modified upward by Dr. Godet, and that his colleague, Dr. Gretillat, was careful to correct it. In a word, wherever men have been unwilling to drop all semblance of an "objective" atonement, as the word now goes, they have taken refuge in this half-way house which Grotius has builded for them. I do not myself look upon this as a particularly healthful sign of the times. I do not myself think that, at bottom, there is in principle much to choose between the Grotian and the so-called "subjective" theories. It seems to me only an illusion to suppose that it preserves an "objective" atonement at all. But meanwhile it is adopted by many because they deem it "objective," and it so far bears witness to a remanent desire to preserve an "objective" atonement.

We are getting more closely down to the real characteristic of modern theories of the atonement when we note that there is a strong tendency observable all around us to rest the forgiveness of sins solely on repentance as its ground. In its last analysis, the Grotian theory itself reduces to this. The demonstration of God's righteousness, which is held by it to be the heart of Christ's work and particularly of His death, is supposed to have no other effect on God than to render it safe for Him to forgive sin. And this it does not as affecting Him, but as affecting men - namely, by awaking in them such a poignant sense of the evil of sin as to cause them to hate it soundly and to turn decisively away from it. This is just Repentance. We could desire no better illustration of this feature of the theory than is afforded by the statement of it by one of its most distinguished living advocates, Dr. Marcus Dods.3 The necessity of atonement, he tells us, lies in the "need of some such demonstration of God's righteousness as will make it possible and safe for Him to forgive the unrighteous" (p. 181). Whatever begets in the sinner true penitence and impels him toward the practice of righteousness will render it safe to forgive him. Hence Dr. Dods asserts that it is inconceivable that God should not forgive the penitent sinner, and that Christ's work is summed up in such an exhibition of God's righteousness and love as produces, on its apprehension, adequate repentance. "By being the source, then, of true and fruitful penitence, the death of Christ removes the radical subjective obstacle in the way of forgiveness" (p. 184). "The death of Christ, then, has made forgiveness possible, because it enables man to repent with an adequate penitence, and because it manifests righteousness and binds men to God" (p. 187). There is no hint here that man needs anything more to enable him to repent than the presentation of motives calculated powerfully to induce him to repent. That is to say, there is no hint here of an adequate appreciation of the subjective effects of sin on the human heart, deadening it to the appeal of motives to right action however powerful, and requiring therefore an internal action of the Spirit of God upon it before it can repent: or of the purchase of such a gift of the Spirit by the sacrifice of Christ. As little is there any hint here of the existence of any sense of justice in God, forbidding Him to account the guilty righteous without satisfaction of guilt. All God requires for forgiveness is repentance: all the sinner needs for repentance is a moving inducement. It is all very simple; but we are afraid it does not go to the root of matters as presented either in Scripture or in the throes of our awakened heart.

The widespread tendency to represent repentance as the atoning fact might seem, then, to be accountable from the extensive acceptance which has been given to the Rectoral theory of the atonement. Nevertheless much of it has had a very different origin and may be traced back rather to some such teaching as that, say, of Dr. McLeod Campbell. Dr. Campbell did not himself find the atoning fact in man's own repentance, but rather in our Lord's sympathetic repentance for man. He replaced the evangelical doctrine of substitution by a theory of sympathetic identification, and the evangelical doctrine of expiatory penalty-paying by a theory of sympathetic repentance. Christ so fully enters sympathetically into our case, was his idea, that He is able to offer to God an adequate repentance for our sins, and the Father says, It is enough! Man here is still held to need a Saviour, and Christ is presented as that Saviour, and is looked upon as performing for man what man cannot do for himself. But the gravitation of this theory is distinctly downward, and it has ever tended to find its lower level. There are, therefore, numerous transition theories prevalent - some of them very complicated, some of them very subtle - which connect it by a series of insensible stages with the proclamation of human repentance as the sole atonement required. As typical of these we may take the elaborate theory (which, like man himself, may be said to be fearfully and wonderfully made) set forth by the modern Andover divines. This finds the atoning fact in a combination of Christ's sympathetic repentance for man and man's own repentance under the impression made upon him by Christ's work on his behalf - not in the one without the other, but in the two in unison. A similar combination of the revolutionary repentance of man induced by Christ and the sympathetic repentance of Christ for man meets us also in recent German theorizing, as, for example, in the teaching of Häring. It is sometimes clothed in "sacrificial" language and made to bear an appearance even of "substitution." It is just the repentance of Christ, however, which is misleadingly called His "sacrifice," and our sympathetic repentance with Him that is called our participation in His "sacrifice"; and it is carefully explained that though there was "a substitution on Calvary," it was not the substitution of a sinless Christ for a sinful race, but the substitution of humanity plus Christ for humanity minus Christ. All of which seems but a confusing way of saying that the atoning fact consists in the revolutionary repentance of man induced by the spectacle of Christ's sympathetic repentance for man.

The essential emphasis in all these transition theories falls obviously on man's own repentance rather than on Christ's. Accordingly the latter falls away easily and leaves us with human repentance only as the sole atoning fact - the entire reparation which God asks or can ask for sin. Nor do men hesitate to-day to proclaim this openly and boldly. Scores of voices are raised about us declaring it not only with clearness but with passion. Even those who still feel bound to attribute the reconciling of God somehow to the work of Christ are often careful to explain that they mean this ultimately only, and only because they attribute in one way or other to the work of Christ the arousing of the repentance in man which is the immediate ground of forgiveness. Thus Dean Fremantle tells us that it is "repentance and faith" that "change for us the face of God." And then he adds, doubtless as a concession to ingrained, though outgrown, habits of thought: "If, then, the death of Christ, viewed as the culminating point of His life of love, is the destined means of repentance for the whole world, we may say, also, that it is the means of securing the mercy and favour of God, of procuring the forgiveness of sins."4 And Dr. (now Principal) Forsyth, whose fervid address on the atonement at a great Congregationalist gathering a few years ago quite took captive the hearts of the whole land, seems really to teach little more than this. Christ sympathetically enters into our condition, he tells us, and gives expression to an adequate sense of sin. We, perceiving the effect of this, His entrance into our sinful atmosphere, are smitten with horror of the judgment our sin has thus brought on Him. This horror begets in us an adequate repentance of sin: God accepts this repentance as enough; and forgives our sin. Thus forgiveness rests proximately only on our repentance as its ground: but our repentance is produced only by Christ's sufferings: and hence, Dr. Forsyth tells us, Christ's sufferings may be called the ultimate ground of forgiveness.5

It is sufficiently plain that the function served by the sufferings and death of Christ in this construction is somewhat remote. Accordingly they quite readily fall away altogether. It seems quite natural that they should do so with those whose doctrinal inheritance comes from Horace Bushnell, say, or from the Socinian theorizing of the school of Ritschl. We feel no surprise to learn, for example, that with Harnack the sufferings and death of Christ play no appreciable part. With him the whole atoning act seems to consist in the removal of a false conception of God from the minds of men. Men, because sinners, are prone to look upon God as a wrathful judge. He is, on the contrary, just Love. How can the sinner's misjudgment be corrected? By the impression made upon him by the life of Jesus, keyed to the conception of the Divine Fatherhood. With all this we are familiar enough. But we are hardly prepared for the extremities of language which some permit themselves in giving expression to it. "The whole difficulty," a recent writer of this class declares, "is not in inducing or enabling God to pardon, but in moving men to abhor sin and to want pardon." Even this difficulty, however, we are assured is removable: and what is needed for its removal is only proper instruction. "Christianity," cries our writer, "was a revelation, not a creation." Even this false antithesis does not, however, satisfy him. He rises beyond it to the acme of his passion. "Would there have been no Gospel," he rhetorically demands - as if none could venture to say him nay - "would there have been no Gospel had not Christ died?"6 Thus "the blood of Christ" on which the Scriptures hang the whole atoning fact is thought no longer to be needed: the gospel of Paul, which consisted not in Christ simpliciter but specifically in "Christ as crucified," is scouted. We are able to get along now without these things.

To such a pass have we been brought by the prevailing gospel of the indiscriminate love of God. For it is here that we place our finger on the root of the whole modern assault upon the doctrine of an expiatory atonement. In the attempt to give effect to the conception of indiscriminate and undiscriminating love as the basal fact of religion, the entire Biblical teaching as to atonement has been ruthlessly torn up. If God is love and nothing but love, what possible need can there be of an atonement? Certainly such a God cannot need propitiating. Is not He the All-Father? Is He not yearning for His children with an unconditioned and unconditioning eagerness which excludes all thought of "obstacles to forgiveness"? What does He want but - just His children? Our modern theorizers are never weary of ringing the changes on this single fundamental idea. God does not require to be moved to forgiveness; or to be enabled to pardon; or even to be enabled to pardon safely. He raises no question of whether He can pardon, or whether it would be safe for Him to pardon. Such is not the way of love. Love is bold enough to sweep all such chilling questions impatiently out of its path. The whole difficulty is to induce men to permit themselves to be pardoned. God is continually reaching longing arms out of heaven toward men: oh, if men would only let themselves be gathered unto the Father's eager heart! It is absurd, we are told - nay, wicked - blasphemous with awful blasphemy - to speak of propitiating such a God as this, of reconciling Him, of making satisfaction to Him. Love needs no satisfying, reconciling, propitiating; nay, will have nothing to do with such things. Of its very nature it flows out unbought, unpropitiated, instinctively and unconditionally, to its object. And God is Love!

Well, certainly, God is Love. And we praise Him that we have better authority for telling our souls this glorious truth than the passionate assertion of these somewhat crass theorizers. God is Love! But it does not in the least follow that He is nothing but love. God is Love: but Love is not God and the formula "Love" must therefore ever be inadequate to express God. It may well be - to us sinners, lost in our sin and misery but for it, it must be - the crowning revelation of Christianity that God is love. But it is not from the Christian revelation that we have learned to think of God as nothing but love. That God is the Father of all men in a true and important sense, we should not doubt. But this term "All-Father" - it is not from the lips of Hebrew prophet or Christian apostle that we have caught it. And the indiscriminate benevolencism which has taken captive so much of the religious thinking of our time is a conception not native to Christianity, but of distinctly heathen quality. As one reads the pages of popular religious literature, teeming as it is with ill-considered assertions of the general Fatherhood of God, he has an odd feeling of transportation back into the atmosphere of, say, the decadent heathenism of the fourth and fifth centuries, when the gods were dying, and there was left to those who would fain cling to the old ways little beyond a somewhat saddened sense of the benignitas numinis. The benignitas numinis! How studded the pages of those genial old heathen are with the expression; how suffused their repressed life is with the conviction that the kind Deity that dwells above will surely not be hard on men toiling here below! How shocked they are at the stern righteousness of the Christian's God, who loomed before their startled eyes as He looms before those of the modern poet in no other light than as "the hard God that dwelt in Jerusalem"! Surely the Great Divinity is too broadly good to mark the peccadillos of poor puny man; surely they are the objects of His compassionate amusement rather than of His fierce reprobation. Like Omar Khayyam's pot, they were convinced, before all things, of their Maker that "He's a good fellow and 'twill all be well."

The query cannot help rising to the surface of our minds whether our modern indiscriminate benevolencism goes much deeper than this. Does all this one-sided proclamation of the universal Fatherhood of God import much more than the heathen benignitas numinis? When we take those blessed words, "God is Love," upon our lips, are we sure we mean to express much more than that we do not wish to believe that God will hold man to any real account for his sin? Are we, in a word, in these modern days, so much soaring upward toward a more adequate apprehension of the transcendent truth that God is love, as passionately protesting against being ourselves branded and dealt with as wrath-deserving sinners? Assuredly it is impossible to put anything like their real content into these great words, "God is Love," save as they are thrown out against the background of those other conceptions of equal loftiness, "God is Light," "God is Righteousness," "God is Holiness," "God is a consuming fire." The love of God cannot be apprehended in its length and breadth and height and depth - all of which pass knowledge - save as it is apprehended as the love of a God who turns from the sight of sin with inexpressible abhorrence, and burns against it with unquenchable indignation. The infinitude of His love would be illustrated not by His lavishing of His favor on sinners without requiring an expiation of sin, but by His - through such holiness and through such righteousness as cannot but cry out with infinite abhorrence and indignation - still loving sinners so greatly that He provides a satisfaction for their sin adequate to these tremendous demands. It is the distinguishing characteristic of Christianity, after all, not that it preaches a God of love, but that it preaches a God of conscience.

A somewhat flippant critic, contemplating the religion of Israel, has told us, as expressive of his admiration for what he found there, that "an honest God is the noblest work of man."7 There is a profound truth lurking in the remark. Only it appears that the work were too noble for man; and probably man has never compassed it. A benevolent God, yes: men have framed a benevolent God for themselves. But a thoroughly honest God, perhaps never. That has been left for the revelation of God Himself to give us. And this is the really distinguishing characteristic of the God of revelation: He is a thoroughly honest, a thoroughly conscientious God - a God who deals honestly with Himself and us, who deals conscientiously with Himself and us. And a thoroughly conscientious God, we may be sure, is not a God who can deal with sinners as if they were not sinners. In this fact lies, perhaps, the deepest ground of the necessity of an expiatory atonement.

And it is in this fact also that there lies the deepest ground of the increasing failure of the modern world to appreciate the necessity of an expiatory atonement. Conscientiousness commends itself only to awakened conscience; and in much of recent theologizing conscience does not seem especially active. Nothing, indeed, is more startling in the structure of recent theories of atonement, than the apparently vanishing sense of sin that underlies them. Surely, it is only where the sense of guilt of sin has grown grievously faint, that men can suppose repentance to be all that is needed to purge it. Surely it is only where the sense of the power of sin has profoundly decayed, that men can fancy that they can at will cast it off from them in a "revolutionary repentance." Surely it is only where the sense of the heinousness of sin has practically passed away, that man can imagine that the holy and just God can deal with it lightly. If we have not much to be saved from, why, certainly, a very little atonement will suffice for our needs. It is, after all, only the sinner that requires a Saviour. But if we are sinners, and in proportion as we know ourselves to be sinners, and appreciate what it means to be sinners, we will cry out for that Saviour who only after He was perfected by suffering could become the Author of eternal salvation.

Endnotes:

1. An address delivered at the "Religious Conference," held in the Theological Seminary, Princeton, on October 13, 1902. Reprinted from The Princeton Theological Review, i. 1903, pp. 81-92.

2. Bishop Foster, in his "Philosophy of Christian Experience": 1891, p. 113.

3. In an essay in a volume called "The Atonement in Modern Religious Thought: A Theological Symposium" (London: James Clarke & Co., 1900). In this volume seventeen essays from as many writers are collected, and from it a very fair notion can be obtained of the ideas current in certain circles of our day.

4. "The Atonement in Modern Religious Thought," as cited: pp. 168 f.

5. Ibid., pp. 61 ff.

6. Mr. Bernard J. Snell, in "The Atonement in Modern Religious Thought": pp. 265, 267.

7. Cf. Mr. Edward Day's "The Social Life of the Hebrews," 1901, p. 207. He is quoting apparently the late Mr. Ingersoll.

Imputation

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Reprinted from "The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge," edited by Samuel Macauley Jackson, D.D., LL.D., v. pp. 465-467 (copyright by Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York, 1909).

I. ORIGIN AND MEANING OF THE TERM

The theological use of the term "imputation" is probably rooted ultimately in the employment of the verb imputo in the Vulgate to translate the Greek verb logizesthai in Ps. xxxii. 2. This passage is quoted by Paul in Rom. iv. 8 and made one of the foundations of his argument that, in saving man, God sets to his credit a righteousness without works. It is only in these two passages, and in the two axiomatic statements of Rom. iv. 4 and v. 13 that the Vulgate uses imputo in this connection (cf., with special application, II Tim. iv. 16; Philemon 18). There are other passages, however, where it might just as well have been employed, but where we have instead reputo, under the influence of the mistaken rendering of the Hebrew ḥashabh in Gen. xv. 6. In these passages the Authorized English Version improves on the Latin by rendering a number of them (Rom. iv. 11, 22, 23, 24; II Cor. v. 19; James ii. 23) by "impute," and employing for the rest synonymous terms, all of which preserve the "metaphor from accounts" inherent in logizesthai (and ellogein) in this usage (cf. W. Sanday and A. C. Headlam, "Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans," iv. 3), such as "count" (Rom. iv. 3, 5), "account" (Gal. iii. 6), and "reckon" (Rom. iv. 4, 9, 10); the last of which the Revised English Version makes its uniform rendering of logizesthai. Even the meager employment of imputo in the Latin version, however, supplied occasion enough for the adoption of that word in the precise language of theology as the technical term for that which is expressed by the Greek words in their so-called "commercial  sense, or what may, more correctly, be called their forensic or "judicial" sense, "that is, putting to one's account," or, in its twofold reference to the credit and debit sides, "setting to one's credit" or "laying to one's charge."

II. THREE ACTS OF IMPUTATION

From the time of Augustine (early fifth century), at least, the term "imputation" is found firmly fixed in theological terminology in this sense. But the applications and relations of the doctrine expressed by it were thoroughly worked out only in the discussions which accompanied and succeeded the Reformation. In the developed theology thus brought into the possession of the Church, three several acts of imputation were established and expounded. These are the imputation of Adam's sin to his posterity; the imputation of the sins of His people to the Redeemer; the imputation of the righteousness of Christ to His people. Though, of course, with more or less purity of conception and precision of application, these three great doctrines became the property of the whole Church, and found a place in the classical theology of the Roman, Lutheran, and Reformed alike. In the proper understanding of the conception, it is important to bear in mind that the divine act called "imputation" is in itself precisely the same in each of the three great transactions into which it enters as a constituent part. The grounds on which it proceeds may differ; the things imputed may be different; and the consequent treatment of the person or persons to which the imputation is made may and will differ as the things imputed to them differ. But in each and every case alike imputation itself is simply the act of setting to one's account; and the act of setting to one's account is in itself the same act whether the thing set to his account stands on the credit or debit side of the account, and whatever may be the ground in equity on which it is set to his account. That the sin of Adam was so set to the account of his descendants that they have actually shared in the penalty which was threatened to it; and that the sins of His people were so set to the account of our Lord that He bore them in His own body on the tree, and His merits are so set to their account that by His stripes they are healed, the entirety of historical orthodox Christianity unites in affirming.

III. PELAGIAN OPPOSITION TO THE DOCTRINE

Opposition to these doctrines has, of course, not been lacking in the history of Christian thought. The first instance of important contradiction of the fundamental principle involved is presented by the Pelagian movement (see "Pelagius, Pelagian Controversies"), which arose at the beginning of the fifth century. The Pelagians denied the equity and, therefore, under the government of God, the possibility of the involvement of one free agent in the acts of another; they utterly denied, therefore, that men either suffer harm from Adam's sin or profit by Christ's merits. By their examples only, they said, can either Adam or Christ affect us; and by free imitation of them alone can we share in their merits or demerits. It is not apparent why Pelagius permitted himself such extremity of denial. What he had at heart to assert was the inamissibility by the human subject of plenary ability of will to do all righteousness. To safeguard this he had necessarily to deny all subjective injury to men from Adam's sin (and from their own sins too, for that matter), and the need or actuality of subjective grace for their perfecting. But there was no reason growing out of this point of sight why he might not allow that the guilt of Adam's sin had been imputed to his posterity, and had supplied the ground for the infliction upon them of external penalties temporal or eternal; or that the merits of Christ might be imputed to His people as the meritorious ground of their relief from these penalties, as well as of the forgiveness of their own actual sins and of their reception into the favor of God and the heavenly blessedness. Later Pelagianizers found this out; and it became not uncommon (especially after Duns Scotus' strong assertion of the doctrine of "immediate imputation") for the imputation of Adam's sin to be exploited precisely in the interest of denial or weakening of the idea of the derivation of inherent corruption from Adam. A very good example of this tendency of thought is supplied by the Roman Catholic theologian Ambrosius Catharinus, whose admirable speech to this effect at the Council of Trent is reported by Father Paul ("History of the Council of Trent," E. T. London, 1676, p. 165). Even Zwingli was not unaffected by it. He was indeed free from the Pelagianizing attenuation of the corruption of nature which is the subjective effect on his posterity of Adam's sin. With him, "original sin" was both extensively and intensively a total depravity, the fertile source of all evil action. But he looked upon it rather as a misfortune than a fault, a disease than a sin; and he hung the whole weight of our ruin on our direct participation in Adam's guilt. As a slave can beget only a slave, says he, so all the progeny of man under the curse are born under the curse.

IV. IMPORTANCE OF THE DOCTRINE

In sharp contradiction to the current tendency to reduce to the vanishing-point the subjective injury wrought by Adam's sin on his posterity, the churches gave themselves to emphasizing the depth of the injury and especially its sinfulness. Even the Council of Trent acknowledged the transfusion into the entire human race of "sin, which is the death of the soul." The Protestants, who, as convinced Augustinians, were free from the Pelagianizing bias of Rome, were naturally even more strenuous in asserting the evil and guilt of native depravity. Accordingly they constantly remark that men's native guilt in the sight of God rests not merely upon the imputation to them of Adam's first sin, but also upon the corruption which they derive from him - a mode of statement which meets us, indeed, as early as Peter Lombard ("Sentences," II. xxx.) and for the same reason. The polemic turn given to these statements has been the occasion of a remarkable misapprehension, as if it were intended to subordinate the imputation of Adam's transgression to the transmission of his corrupted nature as the source of human guilt. Precisely the contrary is the fact. The imputation of Adam's transgression was not in dispute; all parties to the great debate of the age fully recognized it; and it is treated therefore as a matter of course. What was important was to make it clear that native depravity was along with it the ground of our guilt before God. Thus it was sought to hold the balance true, and to do justice to both elements in a complete doctrine of original sin. Meanwhile the recovery of the great doctrine of justification by faith threw back its light upon the doctrine of the satisfaction of Christ which had been in the possession of the Church since Anselm; and the better understanding of this doctrine, thus induced, in turn illuminated the doctrine of sin, whose correlative it is. Thus it came about that in the hands of the great Protestant leaders of the sixteenth century, and of their successors, the Protestant systematizers of the seventeenth century, the threefold doctrine of imputation - of Adam's sin to his posterity, of the sins of His people to the Redeemer, and of the righteousness of Christ to His people - at last came to its rights as the core of the three constitutive doctrines of Christianity - the sinfulness of the human race, the satisfaction of Jesus Christ, and justification by faith. The importance of the doctrine of imputation is that it is the hinge on which these three great doctrines turn, and the guardian of their purity.

V. SOCINIAN, ARMINIAN, AND RATIONALISTIC OPPOSITION

Of course the Church was not permitted to enjoy in quiet its new understanding of its treasures of doctrine. Radical opponents arose in the Reformation age itself, the most important of whom were the Socinians (see "Socinus, Faustus, Socinians"). By them it was pronounced an inanity to speak of the transference of either merit or demerit from one person to another: we can be bad with another's badness, or good with another's goodness, they said, as little as we can be white with another's whiteness. The center of the Socinian assault was upon the doctrine of the satisfaction of Christ: it is not possible, they affirmed, for one person to bear the punishment due to another. But their criticism cut equally deeply into the Protestant doctrines of original sin and justification by faith. The influence of their type of thought, very great from the first, increased as time went on and became a factor of importance both in the Arminian revolt at the beginning of the seventeenth century and in the rationalistic defection a hundred years later. Neither the Arminians (e.g. Limborch, Curcellaeus) nor the Rationalists (e.g. Wegscheider) would hear of an imputation of Adam's sin, and both attacked with arguments very similar to those of the Socinians also the imputation of our sins to Christ or of His righteousness to us. Rationalism almost ate the heart out of the Lutheran Churches; and the Reformed Churches were saved from the same fate only by the prompt extrusion of the Arminian party and the strengthening of their position by conflict with it. In particular, about the middle of the seventeenth century the "covenant" or "federal" method of exhibiting the plan of the Lord's dealings with men (see "Cocceius, Johannes, and his School") began to find great acceptance among the Reformed Churches. There was nothing novel in this mode of conceiving truth. The idea was present to the minds of the Church Fathers and the Schoolmen; and it underlay Protestant thought, both Lutheran and Reformed, from the beginning, and in the latter had come to clear expression, first in Ursinus. But now it quickly became dominant as the preferable manner of conceiving the method of the divine dealing with men. The effect was to throw into the highest relief the threefold doctrine of imputation, and to make manifest as never before the dependency of the great doctrines of sin, satisfaction, and justification upon it.

VI. LA PLACE AND LATER THEOLOGIANS AND SCHOOLS

About the same time a brilliant French professor, Josué de la Place (see "Placeus, Josua"), of the Reformed school at Saumur, reduced all that could be called the imputation of Adam's sin to his posterity simply to this - that because of the sin inherent in us from our origin we are deserving of being treated in the same way as if we had committed that offense. This confinement of the effect of Adam's sin upon his posterity to the transmission to them of a sinful disposition - inherent sin - was certainly new in the history of Reformed thought: Andreas Rivetus (see "Rivet, Andre") had no difficulty in collecting a long line of "testimonies" from the confessions and representative theologians explicitly declaring that men are accounted guilty in God's sight, both because of Adam's act of transgression imputed to them and of their own sinful disposition derived from him. The conflict of views was no doubt rendered sharper, however, by the prevalence at the time of the "Covenant theology" in which the immediate imputation of Adam's transgression is particularly clearly emphasized. Thus "immediate" and "mediate" imputation (for by the latter name La Place came subsequently to call his view) were pitted against each other as mutually exclusive doctrines: as if the question at issue were whether man stood condemned in the sight of God solely on account of his "adherent" sin, or solely on account of his "inherent" sin. The former of these doctrines had never been held in the Reformed Churches, since Zwingli, and the latter had never been held in them before La Place. From the first both "adherent" and "inherent" sin had been confessed as the double ground of human guilt; and the advocates of the "Covenant theology" were as far as possible from denying the guilt of "inherent" sin. La Place's innovation was as a matter of course condemned by the Reformed world, formally at the Synod of Charenton (1644-1645) and in the Helvetic Consensus (1675) and by argument at the hands of the leading theologians - Rivetus, Turretin, Maresius, Driessen, Leydecker, and Marck. But the tendencies of the time were in its favor and it made its way. It was adopted by theologians like Wyttenbach, Endemann, Stapfer, Roell, Vitringa, Venema; and after a while it found its way through Britain to America, where it has had an interesting history-forming one of the stages through which the New England Theology (q.v.) passed on its way to its ultimate denial of the quality of sin involving guilt to anything but the voluntary acts of a free agent; and finally becoming one of the characteristic tenets of the so-called "New School Theology" of the Presbyterian Churches. Thus it has come about that there has been much debate in America upon "imputation," in the sense of the imputation of Adam's sin, and diverse types of theology have been framed, especially among the Congregationalists and Presbyterians, centering in differences of conception of this doctrine. Among the Presbyterians, for example, four such types are well marked, each of which has been taught by theologians of distinction. These are (1) the "Federalistic," characterized by its adherence to the doctrine of "immediate imputation," represented, for example, by Dr. Charles Hodge; (2) the "New School," characterized by its adherence to the doctrine of "mediate imputation," represented, for example, by Dr. Henry B. Smith; (3) the "Realistic," which teaches that all mankind were present in Adam as generic humanity, and sinned in him, and are therefore guilty of his and their common sin, represented, for example, by Dr. W. G. T. Shedd; and (4) one which may be called the "Agnostic," characterized by an attempt to accept the fact of the transmission of both guilt and depravity from Adam without framing a theory of the mode of their transmission or of their relations one to the other, represented, for example, by Dr. R. W. Landis. See "Adam"; "Atonement"; "Justification" "Redemption" "Satisfaction"; "Sin."

BIBLIOGRAPHY: The literature of the subject is the literature of "Sin," "Atonement," and "Justification" (qq. v.). Special treatment is usually given also in the systems of doctrinal theology, especially of the Calvinistic type. Consult: A. Rivetus, "Opera," Rotterdam, iii. 1660, pp. 798 ff.; R. Rüetschi, "Geschichte und Kritik der kirchlichen Lehre von . . . Sündenfall," Leiden, 1881; C. Hodge, in "Theological Essays," New York, 1846, pp. 128-217; A. Schweizer, "Die protestantischen Centraldogmen," Zürich, 1854-1856; W. Cunningham, "The Reformers and the Theology of the Reformation," Edinburgh, 1866, pp. 371 ff.; J. Buchanan, "The Doctrine of Justification," Edinburgh, 1867, pp. 279, 321-323, 334, 337; G. P. Fisher, in the New Englander, xxvii. 1868, pp. 468-516; J. Müller, "The Christian Doctrine of Sin," Edinburgh, ii. 1868, pp. 342 ff.; T. J. Crawford, "The Doctrine of Holy Scripture respecting the Atonement," Edinburgh, 1871, pp. 181-183, 424; R. W. Landis, "The Doctrine of Original Sin as Received and Taught by the Churches of the Reformation," Richmond, 1884; W. G. T. Shedd, "Dogmatic Theology," New York, ii. 1888, pp. 29, 42, 57-63, 192-194; H. B. Smith, "System of Christian Theology," ed. W. S. Karr, New York, 1886, pp. 283-323; R. V. Foster, "Systematic Theology," Nashville, 1898, pp. 408-413; W. A. Brown, "Christian Theology in Outline," New York, 1906, pp. 285, 290-291, 311, 362.

On Faith in Its Psychological Aspects

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

The English word "faith" came into the language under the influence of the French, and is but a modification of the Latin "fides," which is itself cognate with the Greek pi,stij. Its root-meaning seems to be that of "binding." Whatever we discover to be "binding" on us, is the object of "faith."2 The corresponding Germanic term, represented by the English word "believe" (and the German "glauben"), goes back to a root meaning "to be agreeable" (represented by our English "lief"), and seems to present the object of belief as something which we "esteem" - which we have "estimated  or "weighed" and "approved." The notion of "constraint" is perhaps less prominent in "belief" than in "faith," its place being taken in "belief" by that of "approval." We "believe" in what we find worthy of our confidence; we "have faith" in what compels our confidence. But it would be easy to press this too far, and it is likely that the two terms "faith," "belief" really express much the same idea.3 In the natural use of language, therefore, which is normally controlled by what we call etymology, that is, by the intrinsic connotation of the terms, when we say "faith," "belief," our minds are preoccupied with the grounds of the conviction expressed: we are speaking of a mental act or state to which we feel constrained by considerations objective to ourselves, or at least to the act or state in question. The conception embodied in the terms "belief," "faith," in other words, is not that of an arbitrary act of the subject's; it is that of a mental state or act which is determined by sufficient reasons.

In their fundamental connotation, thus, these terms are very broad. There seems nothing in the terms themselves, indeed, to forbid their employment in so wide a sense as to cover the whole field of "sureness," "conviction." Whatever we accept as true or real, we may very properly be said to "believe," to "have faith in"; all that we are convinced of may be said to be matter of " belief," "faith." So the terms are, accordingly, very often employed. Thus, for example, Professor J. M. Baldwin defines " belief" simply as "mental endorsement or acceptance of something thought of, as real"; and remarks of "conviction," that it "is a loose term whose connotation, so far as exact, is near to that here given to belief."4 He even adds - we think with less exactness - that "judgment" is merely "the logical or formal side of the same state of mind" which, on the psychological side, is called "belief." To us, "judgment" appears a broader term than "belief," expressing - a mental act which underlies belief indeed, but cannot be identified with it.5

Meanwhile we note with satisfaction that Professor Baldwin recognizes the element of constraint ("bindingness") in "belief," and distinguishes it clearly from acts of the will, thereby setting aside the definition of it - quite commonly given - which finds the differentia of beliefs, among convictions, in this - that they are "voluntary convictions." "There is," he says,6 "a distinct difference in consciousness between the consent of belief and the consent of will. The consent of belief is in a measure a forced consent: it attaches to what is - to what stands in the order of things whether I consent or no. The consent of will is a forceful consent - a consent to what shall be through me." That is to say, with respect to belief, it is a mental recognition of what is before the mind, as objectively true and real, and therefore depends on the evidence that a thing is true and real and is determined by this evidence; it is the response of the mind to this evidence and cannot arise apart from it. It is, therefore, impossible that belief should be the product of a volition; volitions look to the future and represent our desires; beliefs look to the present and represent our findings.

Professor Baldwin does not recognize this, however, in its entirety, as is already apparent from the qualification inserted into his description of "belief." It is, says he, "in a measure a forced consent." He wishes, after all, to leave room for "voluntary beliefs." Accordingly, he proceeds: "In cases in which belief is brought about by desire and will, there is a subtle consciousness of inadequate evidence, until by repetition the item desired and willed no longer needs volition to give it a place in the series deemed objective: then it is for the first time belief, but then it is no longer will." "Beliefs," then, according to Professor Baldwin, although not to be confounded with acts of the will, may yet be produced by the action of the will, even while the "evidence" on which they should more properly rest, is recognized by the mind willing them to be insufficient.

We cannot help suspecting this suggestion to rest on a defective analysis of what actually goes on in the mind in the instances commented on. These appear to us to be cases in which we determine to act on suppositions recognized as lacking sufficient evidence to establish them in our minds as accordant with reality and therefore not accepted as accordant with reality, that is to say, as "beliefs." If they pass, as Dr. Baldwin suggests, gradually into "beliefs," when repeatedly so acted upon - is that not because the mind derives from such repeated action, resulting successfully, additional evidence that the suppositions in question do represent reality and may be safely acted on as such? Would not the thing acted on in such cases be more precisely stated as the belief that these suppositions may be accordant with reality, not that they are? The consciousness that the evidence is inadequate which accompanies such action (though Dr. Baldwin calls it "subtle") - is it not in fact just the witness of consciousness that it does not assert these suppositions to be accordant with reality, and does not recognize them as "beliefs," though it is willing to act on them on the hypothesis that they may prove to be accordant with reality and thus make good their aspirations to become beliefs? And can any number of repetitions (repetitions of what,

by the way?) make this testimony of consciousness void? Apparently what we repeat is simply volitions founded an the possibility or probability of the suppositions in question being in accordance with reality; and it is difficult to see how the repetition of such volitions can elevate the suppositions in question into the rank of beliefs except by eliminating doubt as to their accordance with reality by creating evidence for them through their "working well." The repetition of a volition to treat a given proposition as true - especially if it is accompanied by a consciousness (however subtle) that there is no sufficient evidence that it is true - can certainly not result in making it true; and can scarcely of itself result in producing an insufficiently grounded conviction in the mind (always at least subtly conscious that it rests on insufficient evidence) that it is true, and so in giving it "a place in the series deemed objective." A habit of treating a given proposition as correspondent to reality may indeed be formed; and as this habit is formed, the accompanying consciousness that it is in point of fact grounded in insufficient evidence, may no doubt drop into the background, or even wholly out of sight; thus we may come to act - instinctively, shall we say? or inadvertently? - on the supposition of the truth of the proposition in question. But this does not seem to carry with it as inevitable implication that "beliefs" may be created by the action of the will. It may only show that more or less probable, or more or less improbable, suppositions, more or less clearly envisaged as such, may enter into the complex of conditions which influence action, and that the human mind in the processes of its ordinary activity does not always keep before it in perfect clearness the lines of demarcation which separate the two classes of its beliefs and its conjectures, but may sometimes rub off the labels which serve to mark its convictions off from its suppositions and to keep each in its proper place.

It would seem to be fairly clear that "belief" is always the product of evidence and that it cannot be created by volitions, whether singly or in any number of repetitions. The interaction of belief and volition is, questionless, most intimate and most varied, but one cannot be successfully transmuted into the other, nor one be mistaken for the other. The consent of belief is in its very nature and must always be what Dr. Baldwin calls "forced consent," that is to say, determined by evidence, not by volition; and when the consent of will is secured by a supposition, recognized by consciousness as inadequately based in evidence, this consent of will has no tendency to act as evidence and raise the supposition into a belief - its tendency is only to give to a supposition the place of a belief in the ordering of life.

We may infer from this state of the case that "preparedness to act" is scarcely a satisfactory definition of the state of mind which is properly called "faith," "belief." This was the definition suggested by Dr. Alexander Bain. "Faith," "belief" certainly expresses a state of preparedness to act; and it may be very fairly contended that "preparedness to act" supplies a very good test of the genuineness of "faith," "belief." A so-called "faith," "belief" on which we are not prepared to act is near to no real "faith," "belief" at all. What we are convinced of, we should certainly confide in; and what we are unwilling to confide in we seem not quite sure of - we do not appear thoroughly to believe, to have faith in. But though all "faith," "belief" is preparedness to act, it does not follow that all preparedness to act is "faith," "belief." We may be prepared to act, on some other ground than "faith," "belief"; on "knowledge," say - if knowledge may be distinguished from belief - or, as we have already suggested, on "supposition" - on a probability or even a possibility. To be sure, as we have already noted, the real ground of our action in such cases may be stated in terms of "faith," "belief." Our preparedness to act may be said to be our belief - our conviction - that, if the supposition in question is not yet shown to be in conformity to reality, it yet may be so. Meanwhile, it is clear that the supposition in question is not a thing believed to be in accordance with fact, and is therefore not a belief but a "supposition"; not a "conviction" but a conjecture. "Belief," "faith" is the consent of the mind to the reality of the thing in question; and when the mind withholds its consent to the reality, "belief," "faith" is not present. These terms are not properly employed except when a state of conviction is present; they designate the response of the mind to evidence in a consent to the adequacy of the evidence.

It, of course, does not follow that all our "beliefs," "faiths" correspond with reality. Our convictions are not infallible. When we say that "belief," "faith" is the product of evidence and is in that sense a compelled consent, this is not the same as saying that consent is produced only by compelling evidence, that is, evidence which is objectively adequate. Objective adequacy and subjective effect are not exactly correlated. The amount, degree, and quality of evidence which will secure consent varies from mind to mind and in the same mind from state to state. Some minds, or all minds in some states, will respond to very weak evidence with full consent; some minds or all minds in some states, will resist very strong evidence. There is no "faith," "belief" possible without evidence or what the mind takes for evidence; "faith," "belief" is a state of mind grounded in evidence and impossible without it. But the fullest "faith," "belief" may ground itself in very weak evidence - if the mind mistakes it for strong evidence. "Faith," "belief" does not follow the evidence itself, in other words, but the judgment of the intellect on the evidence. And the judgment of the intellect naturally will vary endlessly, as intellect differs from intellect or as the states of the same intellect differ from one another.

From this circumstance has been taken an attempt to define "faith," "belief" more closely than merely mental endorsement of something as true - as, broadly, the synonym of "conviction" - and to distinguish it as a specific form of conviction from other forms of conviction. "Faith," "belief," it is said (e.g. by Kant), is conviction founded on evidence which is subjectively adequate. "Knowledge" is conviction founded on evidence which is objectively adequate. That "faith" and "knowledge" do differ from one another, we all doubtless feel; but it is not easy to believe that their specific difference is found in this formula. It is of course plain enough that every act of "faith," "belief" rests on evidence which is subjectively adequate. But it is far from plain that this evidence must be objectively inadequate on pain of the mental response ceasing to be "faith," "belief" and becoming "knowledge." Are all "beliefs," "faiths," specifically such, in their very nature inadequately established convictions; convictions, indeed - matters of which we feel sure - but of which we feel sure on inadequate grounds - grounds either consciously recognized by us as

inadequate, or, if supposed by us to be adequate, yet really inadequate?

No doubt there is a usage of the terms current - especially when they are set in contrast with one another - which does conceive them after this fashion; a legitimate enough usage, because it is founded on a real distinction in the connotation of the two terms. We do sometimes say, "I do not know this or that to be true, but I fully believe it" - meaning that though we are altogether persuaded of it we are conscious that the grounds for believing it fall short of complete objective coerciveness. But this special usage of the terms ought not to deceive us as to their essential meaning. And it surely requires little consideration to assure us that it cannot be of the essence of "faith," "belief" that the grounds on which it rests are - consciously or unconsciously - objectively inadequate. Faith must not be distinguished from knowledge only that it may be confounded with conjecture. And how, in any case, shall the proposed criterion of faith be applied? To believe on grounds of the inadequacy of which we are conscious, is on the face of it an impossibility. The moment we perceive the objective inadequacy of the grounds on which we pronounce the reality of anything, they become subjectively inadequate also. And so long as they appear to us subjectively adequate, the resulting conviction will be indistinguishable from "knowledge." To say that "knowledge" is a justified recognition of reality and "faith," "belief" is an unjustified recognition of reality, is to erect a distinction which can have no possible psychological basis. The recognizing mind makes and can make no such distinction between the soundness and unsoundness of its own recognitions of reality. An outside observer might certainly distribute into two such categories the "convictions" of a mind brought under his contemplation; but the distribution would represent the outside observer's judgment upon the grounds of these convictions, not that of the subject himself. The moment the mind observed itself introducing such a distribution among its "convictions" it would remove the whole class of "convictions" to which it assigned an inadequate grounding out of the category of "convictions" altogether. To become conscious that some of its convictions were unjustified would be to abolish them at once as convictions, and to remove them into the category at best of conjectures, at worst of erroneous judgments. We accord with Dr. Baldwin, therefore, when he declares of this distinction that it is "not psychological."7The mind knows and can know nothing of objectively and subjectively adequate grounds in forming its convictions. All it is conscious of is the adequacy or inadequacy of the grounds on which its convictions are based. If they appeal to it as adequate, the mind is convinced; if they do not, it remains unconvinced. Faith, belief, is to consciousness just an act or state of conviction, of being sure; and therefore cannot be explained as something less than a conviction, something less than being sure, or as a conviction indeed, but a conviction which differs from other convictions by being, if not ungrounded, yet not adequately grounded. That were all one with saying it is a conviction, no doubt, but nevertheless not quite a conviction - a manifest contradiction in terms.

The failure of this special attempt to distinguish between faith and knowledge need not argue, however, that there is no distinction between the two. Faith may not be inadequately grounded conviction any more than it is voluntary conviction - the two come to much the same thing - and yet be a specific mode of conviction over against knowledge as a distinct mode of conviction. The persistence with which it is set over against knowledge in our popular usage of the words as well as in the definitions of philosophers may be taken as an indication that there is some cognizable distinction between the two, could we but fasten upon it. And the persistence with which this distinction is sought in the nature of the grounds on which faith in distinction from knowledge rests is equally notable. Thus we find Dr. Alexander T. Ormond8 a defining "faith" as "the personal acceptance of something as true or real, but - the distinguishing mark - on grounds that, in whole or part, are different from those of theoretic certitude." Here faith is distinguished from other forms of conviction - "knowledge" being apparently in mind as the other term of the contrast. And the distinguishing mark of "faith" is found in the nature of the grounds on which it rests. The nature of these grounds, however, is expressed only negatively. We are not told what they are but only that they are (in whole or in part) different to "those of theoretic certitude." The effect of the definition as it stands is therefore only to declare that the term "faith" does not express all forms of conviction, but one form only; and that this form of conviction differs from the form which is given the name of "theoretic certitude" - that is to say, doubtless, "knowledge" - in the grounds on which it rests. But what the positive distinguishing mark of the grounds on which the mode of conviction which we call "faith" rests is, we are not told. Dr. Ormond does, indeed, go on to say that "the moment of will enters into the assent of faith," and that "in the form of some subjective interest or consideration of value." From this it might be inferred that the positive differentia of faith, unexpressed in the definition, would be that it is voluntary conviction, conviction determined not by the evidence of reality present to our minds, but by our desire or will that it should be true - this desire or will expressing "some subjective interest or consideration of value."9

Put baldly, this might be interpreted as meaning that we "know" what is established to us as true, we "believe  what we think we should be advantaged by if true; we "know" what we perceive to be real, we "believe" what we should like to be real. To put it so baldly may no doubt press Dr. Ormond's remark beyond his intention. He recognizes that "some faith-judgments are translatable into judgments of knowledge." But he does not believe that all are; and he suggests that "the final test of validity" of these latter must lie in "the sphere of the practical rather than in that of theoretical truth." The meaning is not throughout perfectly clear. But the upshot seems to be that in Dr. Ormond's opinion, that class of convictions which we designate "faith" differs from that class of convictions which we designate "knowledge" by the fact that they rest (in whole or in part) not on "theoretical" but on "practical" grounds - that is to say, not on evidence but on considerations of value. And that appears ultimately to mean that we know a thing which is proved to us to be true or real; but we believe a thing which we would fain should prove to be true or real. Some of the things which we thus believe may be reduced to "knowledge" because there may be proofs of their reality available which were not, or not fully, present to our minds "when we believed." Others of them may be incapable of such reduction either because no such proofs of their truth or reality exist, or because those proofs are not accessible to us. But our acceptance of them all alike as true rests, not on evidence that they are true, but (in whole or in part) on "some subjective interest" or "consideration of value." Failing "knowledge" we may take these things

"on faith" - because we perceive that it would be well if they were true, and we cannot believe that that at least is not true of which it is clear to us that it would be in the highest degree well if it were true.

It is not necessary to deny that many things are accepted by men as true and accordant with reality on grounds of subjective interest or considerations of value; or that men may be properly moved to the acceptance of many things as true and real by such considerations. Considerations of value may be powerful arguments - they may even constitute proofs - of truth and reality. But it appears obvious enough that all of those convictions which we know as "beliefs," "faiths" do not rest on "subjective interest or considerations of value" - either wholly or even in part. Indeed, it would be truer to say that none of them rest on subjective interests or considerations of value as such, but whenever such considerations enter into their grounds they enter in as evidences of reality or as factors of mental movement lending vividness and vitality to elements of proper evidence before the mind. Men do not mean by their "faiths," "beliefs" things they would fain were true; they mean things they are convinced are true. Their minds are not resting on considerations of value, but on what they take to be evidences of reality. The employment of these terms to designate "acceptances as true and real" on the ground of subjective interest or of considerations of value represents, therefore, no general usage but is purely an affair of the schools, or rather of a school. And it does violence not only to the general convictions of men but also to the underlying idea of the terms. No terms, in fact, lendthemselves more reluctantly to the expression of a "voluntary acceptance," in any form, than these. As we have already seen, they carry with them the underlying idea of bindingness, worthiness of acceptance; they express, in Dr. Baldwin's phrase, a "forced consent"; and whenever we employ them there is present to the mind a consciousness of grounds on which they firmly rest as expressive of reality. Whatever may be the differentia of "belief," "faith" as a specific form of conviction, we may be sure, therefore, that desire or will cannot be the determining element of the grounds on which this conviction rests. What we gain from Dr. Ormond's definition then is only the assurance that by "faith" is denoted not all forms of conviction, but a specific form - that this specific form is differentiated from other forms by the nature of the grounds on which the conviction called "faith" rests - and that the grounds on which this form of conviction rests are not those of theoretic certitude. The form of conviction which rests on grounds adapted to give "theoretic certitude" we call "knowledge." What the special character of the grounds on which the form of conviction we call "faith" rests remains yet to seek.

This gain, although we may speak of it as, for the main matter, only negative, is not therefore unimportant. To have learned that in addition to the general usage of "faith," "belief," in which it expresses all "mental endorsement or acceptance" of anything "as real," and is equipollent with the parallel term "conviction," there is a more confined usage of it expressing a specific form of "conviction" in contrast with the form of conviction called "knowledge," is itself an important gain. And to learn further that the specific character of the form of conviction which we call "knowledge" is that it rests on grounds which give "theoretic certitude," is an important aid, by way of elimination, in fixing on the specific characteristic of the form of conviction which in contrast to "knowledge" we call "faith." "Faith" we know now is a form of conviction which arises differently to "theoretic certitude"; and if certain bases for its affirmation of reality which have been suggested have been excluded in the discussion - such as that it rests on a volition or a series of volitions, on considerations of value rather than of reality, on evidence only subjectively but not objectively adequate - the way seems pretty well cleared for a positive determination of precisely what it is that it does rest on. We have at least learned that while distinguishing it from "knowledge," which is conviction of the order of "theoretic certitude," we must find some basis for "faith," "belief" which will preserve its full character as "conviction" and not sublimate it into a wish or a will, a conjectural hypothesis or a mistake.

It was long ago suggested that what we call "faith," "belief," as contradistinguished from "knowledge," is conviction grounded in authority, as distinguished from conviction grounded in reason. "We know," says Augustine, "what rests upon reason; we believe what rests upon authority"; and Sir William Hamilton pronounces this "accurately" said.10 It is not intended of course to represent "faith," "belief" as irrational, any more than it is intended to represent "knowledge" as free from all dependence on taking-on-trust. It was fully recognized by Augustine - as by Sir William Hamilton - that an activity of reason underlies all "faith," and an act of "faith" underlies all knowledge. "But reason itself," says Sir William Hamilton, expounding Augustine's dictum,11"must rest at last upon authority; for the original data of reason do not rest on reason, but are necessarily accepted by reason on the authority of what is beyond itself. These data are, therefore, in rigid propriety, Beliefs or Trusts. Thus it is, that in the last resort, we must, perforce, philosophically admit, that belief is the primary condition of reason, and not reason the ultimate ground of belief." With equal frankness Augustine allows that reason underlies all acts of faith. That mental act which we call "faith," he remarks, is one possible only to rational creatures, and of course we act as rational beings in performing it;12 and we never believe anything until we have found it worthy of our belief.13 As we cannot accord faith, then, without perceiving good grounds for according it, reason as truly underlies faith as faith reason. It is with no intention, then, of denying or even obscuring this interaction of faith and knowledge - what may be justly called their interdependence - that they are distinguished from one another in their secondary applications as designating two distinguishable modes of conviction, the one resting on reason, the other on authority. What is intended is to discriminate the proximate grounds on which the mental consent designated by the one and the other rests. When the proximate ground of our conviction is reason, we call it "knowledge"; when it is authority we call it "faith," "belief." Or to put it in other but equivalent terms, we know what we are convinced of on the ground of perception: we believe what we are convinced of on the ground of testimony. "With respect to things we have seen or see," says Augustine,14 "we are our own witnesses; but with respect to those we believe, we are moved to faith by other witnesses." We cannot believe, any more than we can know, without adequate grounds; it is not faith but "credulity" to accord credit to insufficient evidence; and an

unreasonable faith is no faith at all. But we are moved to this act of conviction by the evidence of testimony, by the force of authority - rationally determined to be trustworthy - and not by the immediate perception of our own rational understandings.15 In a word, while both knowing and believing are states of conviction, sureness - and the surety may be equally strong - they rest proximately on different grounds. Knowledge is seeing, faith is crediting.16

It powerfully commends this conception of the distinction between faith and knowledge, that it employs these terms to designate a distinction which is undoubtedly real. Whatever we choose to call these two classes of convictions, these two classes of convictions unquestionably exist. As Augustine puts it, "no one doubts that we are impelled to the acquisition of knowledge by a double impulse - of authority and of reason."17 We do possess convictions which are grounded in our own rational apprehension; and we do possess convictions which are grounded in our recognition of authority. We are erecting no artificial categories, then, when we distinguish between these two classes of convictions and label them respectively "knowledges" and "beliefs," "faiths." At the worst we are only applying to real distinctions artificial labels. It may possibly be said that there is no reason in the fitness of things why we should call those convictions which are of the order of "theoretical certitude," knowledge; and those which represent the certitude born of approved testimony, faith. But it cannot be said that no two such categories exist. It is patent to all of us, that some of our convictions rest on our ownrational perception of reality, and that others of them rest on the authority exercised over us by tested testimony. The only question which can arise is whether "knowledge," "faith" are appropriate designations by which to call these two classes of convictions.

No one, of course, would think of denying that the two terms "knowledge," and "faith," "belief" are frequently employed as wholly equivalent - each designating simply a conviction, without respect to the nature of its grounds. Augustine already recognized this broad use of both terms to cover the whole ground of convictions.18 But neither can it be denied that they are often brought into contrast with one another as expressive each of a particular class of convictions, distinguishable from one another. The distinction indicated, no doubt, is often a distinction not in the nature of the evidence on which the several classes of conviction rest but in - shall we say the firmness, the clearness, the force of the conviction? The difficulty of finding the exact word to employ here may perhaps be instructive. When we say, for example, "I do not know it - but I fully believe it," is it entirely clear that we are using "knowledge" merely of a higher degree of conviction than "faith" expresses? No doubt such a higher degree of conviction is intimated when, for example, to express the force of our conviction of a matter which nevertheless we are assured of only by testimony, we say emphatically, "I do not merely believe it; I know it." But may it not be that it would be more precise to say that "knowledge" even here expresses primarily rather a more direct and immediate grounding of conviction, and "faith," "belief" a more remote and mediate grounding of it - and that it is out of this primary meaning of the two terms that a secondary usage of them has arisen to express what on the surface appears as differing grades of convictions, but in the ultimate analysis is really differing relations of immediacy of the evidence on which the conviction rests? It adds not a little to the commendation of the distinction between "knowledge" and "faith" under discussion, at all events, that it provides a starting-point on the assumption of which other current usages of the terms may find ready and significant explanations.

When we come to inquire after the special appropriateness of the employment of the terms "faith," "belief" to designate those convictions which rest on authority or testimony, in distinction from those which rest on our immediate perception (physical or mental), attention should be directed to an element in "faith," "belief" of which we have as yet spoken little but which seems always present and indeed characteristic. This is the element of trust. There is an element of trust lying at the bottom of all our convictions, even those which we designate "knowledge," because, as we say, they are of the order of "theoretic certitude," or "rational assurance." "The original data of reason," says Sir William Hamilton truly, "do not rest on reason, but are necessarily accepted by reason on the authority of what is beyond itself." "These data," he adds, "are, therefore, in rigid propriety, Beliefs or Trusts." The collocation of the terms here, "beliefs or trusts," should be observed; it betrays the propinquity of the two ideas. To say that an element of trust underlies all our knowledge is therefore equivalent to saying that our knowledge rests on belief. The conceptions of believing and trusting go, then, together; and what we have now to suggest is that it is this open implication of "trust" in the conception of "belief," "faith" which rules the usage of these terms.

There is, we have said, an element of trust in all our convictions, and therefore "faith," "belief" may be employed of them all. And when convictions are distinguished from convictions, the convictions in which the element of trust is most prominent tend to draw to themselves the designations of "faith," "belief." It is not purely arbitrary, therefore, that those convictions which rest on our rational perceptions are called "knowledge," while those which rest on "authority" or "testimony" receive the name of "belief," "faith." It is because the element of trust is, not indeed more really, but more prominently, present in the latter than in the former. We perceive and feel the element of trust in according our mental assent to facts brought to us by the testimony of others and accepted as facts on their authority as we do not in the findings of our own rational understandings. And therefore we designate the former matters of faith, belief, and the latter matters of knowledge. Knowing, we then say, is seeing; believing is crediting. And that is only another way of saying that "knowledge" is the appropriate designation of those convictions which rest on our own mental perceptions, while "faith," "belief" is the appropriate designation of those convictions which rest on testimony or authority. While we may use either term broadly for all convictions, we naturally employ them with this discrimination when they are brought in contrast with one another.

It appears, therefore, not only that we are here in the presence of two classes of convictions - the difference between which is real - but that when these two classes are designated respectively by

the terms "knowledge" and "faith," "belief" they are appropriately designated. These designations suggest the real difference which exists between the two classes of convictions. Matters of faith, matters of belief are different from matters of knowledge - not as convictions less clear, firm, or well-grounded, not as convictions resting on grounds less objectively valid, not as convictions determined rather by desire, will, than by evidence - but as convictions resting on grounds less direct and immediate to the soul, and therefore involving a more prominent element of trust, in a word, as convictions grounded in authority, testimony as distinguished from convictions grounded in rational proof. The two classes of convictions are psychologically just convictions; they are alike, in Dr. Baldwin's phrase, "forced consents"; they rest equally on evidence and are equally the product of evidence; they may be equally clear, firm, and assured; but they rest on differing kinds of evidence and differ, therefore, in accordance with this difference of kind in the evidence on which they rest. In "knowledge" as the mental response to rational considerations, the movement of the intellect is prominent to the obscuration of all else. Of course the whole man is active in "knowledge" too - for it is the man in his complex presentation who is the subject of the knowledge. But it is "reason" which is prominent in the activity which assures itself of reality on grounds of mental perception. In "faith," on the other hand, as the mental response to testimony, authority, the movement of the sensibility in the form of trust is what is thrust forward to observation. Of course, every other faculty is involved in the act of belief - and particularly the intellectual faculties to which the act of "crediting" belongs; but what attracts the attention of the subject is the prominence in this act of crediting, of the element of trust which has retired into the background in those other acts of assent which we know as "knowledge." "Faith" then emerges as the appropriate name of those acts of mental consent in which the element of trust is prominent. Knowledge is seeing; faith, belief, is trusting.

In what we call religious faith this prominent implication of trust reaches its height. Religious belief may differ from other belief only in the nature of its objects; religious beliefs are beliefs which have religious conceptions as their contents. But the complex of emotions which accompany acts of assent to propositions of religious content, and form the concrete state of mind of the believer, is of course indefinitely different from that which accompanies any other act of believing. What is prominent in this state of mind is precisely trust. Trust is the active expression of that sense of dependence in which religion largely consists, and it is its presence in these acts of faith, belief, which communicates to them their religious quality and raises them from mere beliefs of propositions, the contents of which happen to be of religious purport, to acts possessed of religious character. It is the nature of trust to seek a personal object on which to repose, and it is only natural, therefore, that what we call religious faith does not reach its height in assent to propositions of whatever religious content and however well fitted to call out religious trust, but comes to its rights only when it rests with adoring trust on a person. The extension of the terms "faith," "belief" to express an attitude of mind towards a person, does not wait, of course, on their religious application. We speak familiarly of believing in, or having faith in, persons in common life; and we perceive at once that our justification in doing so rests on the strong implication of trust resident in the terms. It has been suggested not without justice, that the terms show everywhere a tendency to gravitate towards such an application.19 This element at all events becomes so prominent in the culminating act of religious faith when it rests on the person of God our benefactor, or of Christ our Saviour, as to absorb the prior implication of crediting almost altogether. Faith in God, and above all, faith, in Jesus Christ, is just trust in Him in its purity. Thus in its higher applications the element of trust which is present in faith in all its applications, grows more and more prominent until it finishes by becoming well-nigh the entire connotation of the term; and "to believe in," "to have faith in" comes to mean simply "entrust yourself to." When "faith" can come thus to mean just "trust" we cannot wonder that it is the implication of "trust" in the term which rules its usage and determines its applications throughout the whole course of its development.

The justification of the application of the terms "believing," "faith" to these high religious acts of entrusting oneself to a person does not rest, however, entirely upon the circumstance that the element of trust which in these acts absorbs attention is present in all other acts of faith and only here comes into full prominence. It rests also on the circumstance that all the other constituent elements of acts of faith, belief, in the general connotation of these terms, are present in these acts of religious faith. The more general acts of faith, belief and the culminating acts of religious belief, faith, that is, differ from one another only in the relative prominence in each of elements common to both. For example, religious faith at its height - the act by which we turn trustingly to a Being conceived as our Righteous Governor, in whose hands is our destiny, or to a Being conceived as our Divine Saviour, through whom we may be restored from our sin, and entrust ourselves to Him - is as little a matter of "the will" and as truly a "forced" consent as is any other act called faith, belief. The engagement of the whole man in the act - involving the response of all the elements of his nature - is no doubt more observable in these highest acts of faith than in the lower, as it is altogether natural it should be from the mere fact that they are the highest exercises of faith. But the determination of the response by the appropriate evidence - its dependence on evidence as its ground - is no less stringent or plain. Whenever we obtain a clear conception of the rise in the human soul of religious faith as exercised thus at its apex as saving trust in Christ we perceive with perfect plainness that it rests on evidence as its ground.

It is not unusual for writers who wish to represent religious faith in the form of saving trust in Christ as an act of the will to present the case in the form of a strict alternative. This faith, they say, is an exercise not of the intellect but of the heart. And then they proceed to develop an argument, aiming at a reductio ad absurdum of the notion that saving faith can possibly be conceived as a mere assent of the intellect. A simple assent of the mind, we are told, "always depends upon the nature and amount of proof" presented, and is in a true sense "involuntary." When a proposition is presented and sufficiently supported by proof "a mind in a situation to appreciate the proof believes inevitably." "If the proposition or doctrine is not supported by proof, or if the mind is incapable, from any cause, of appreciating the proof, unbelief or doubt is equally certain." "Such a theory of faith would, therefore, suspend our belief or unbelief, and consequently our salvation

or damnation, upon the manner in which truth is presented to our minds, or our intellectual capability of its appreciation." "To express the whole matter briefly," concludes the writer whose argument we have been following, "it excludes the exercise of the will, and makes faith or unbelief a matter of necessity."20

It is not necessary to pause to examine this argument in detail. What it is at the moment important to point out is that the fullest agreement that saving faith is a matter not of the intellect but of the heart, that it is "confidence" rather than "conviction," does not exclude the element of intelligent assent from it altogether, or escape the necessity of recognizing that it rests upon evidence. Is the "confidence" which faith in this its highest exercise has become, an ungrounded confidence? A blind and capricious act of the soul's due to a purely arbitrary determination of the will? Must it not rest on a perceived - that is to say a well-grounded - trustworthiness in the object on which it reposes? In a word, it is clear enough that a conviction lies beneath this confidence, a conviction of the trustworthiness of the object; and that this conviction is produced like other convictions, just by evidence. Is it not still true, then, that the confidence in which saving faith consists is inevitable if the proof of the trustworthiness of the object on which it reposes is sufficient - or as we truly phrase it, "compelling" - and the mind is in a situation to appreciate this proof; and doubt is inevitable if the proof is insufficient or the mind is incapable from any cause of appreciating the proof? Is not the confidence which is the faith of the heart, therefore, in any case, as truly as the conviction which is the faith of the intellect, suspended " upon the manner in which truth is presented," or our "capability of its appreciation"? In a word, is it not clear that the assent of the intelligence is an inamissible element of faith even in its highest exercises, and it never comes to be an arbitrary "matter of choice," in which I may do "as I choose"?21 For the exercise of this faith must there not then always be present to the mind, (1) the object on which it is to repose in confidence; (2) adequate grounds for the exercise of this confidence in the object? And must not the mind be in a situation to appreciate these grounds? Here, too, faith is, in Dr. Baldwin's phrase, a "forced consent," and is the product of evidence.

The impulse of the writer whose views we have just been considering to make "saving faith" a so-called "act of free volition" is derived from the notion that only thus can man be responsible for his faith. It is a sufficiently odd notion, however, that if our faith be determined by reasons and these reasons are good, we are not responsible for it, because forsooth, we then "believe inevitably" and our faith is "a matter of necessity." Are we to hold that responsibility attaches to faith only when it does not rest on good reasons, or in other words is ungrounded, or insufficiently grounded, and is therefore arbitrary? In point of fact, we are responsible for our volitions only because our volitions are never arbitrary acts of a faculty within us called "will," but the determined acts of our whole selves, and therefore represent us. And we are responsible for our faith in precisely the same way because it is our faith, and represents us. For it is to be borne in mind that faith, though resting on evidence and thus in a true sense, as Professor Baldwin calls it, a "forced consent," is not in such a sense the result of evidence that the mind is passive in believing - that the evidence when adequate objectively is always adequate subjectively, or vice versa, quite independently of the state of the mind that believes. Faith is an act of the mind, and can come into being only by an act of the mind, expressive of its own state. There are two factors in the production of faith. On the one hand, there is the evidence on the ground of which the faith is yielded. On the other hand, there is the subjective condition by virtue of which the evidence can take effect in the appropriate act of faith. There can be no belief, faith without evidence; it is on evidence that the mental exercise which we call belief, faith rests; and this exercise or state of mind cannot exist apart from its ground in evidence. But evidence cannot produce belief, faith, except in a mind open to this evidence, and capable of receiving, weighing, and responding to it. A mathematical demonstration is demonstrative proof of the proposition demonstrated. But even such a demonstration cannot produce conviction in a mind incapable of following the demonstration. Where musical taste is lacking, no evidence which derives its force from considerations of melody can work conviction. No conviction, whether of the order of what we call knowledge or of faith, can be produced by considerations to which the mind to be convinced is inhabile.

Something more, then, is needed to produce belief, faith, besides the evidence which constitutes its ground. The evidence may be objectively sufficient, adequate, overwhelming. The subjective effect of belief, faith is not produced unless this evidence is also adapted to the mind, and to the present state of that mind, which is to be convinced. The mind, itself, therefore - and the varying states of the mind - have their parts to play in the production of belief, faith; and the effect which is so designated is not the mechanical result of the adduction of the evidence. No faith without evidence; but not, no evidence without faith. There may stand in the way of the proper and objectively inevitable effect of the evidence, the subjective nature or condition to which the evidence is addressed. This is the ground of responsibility for belief, faith; it is not merely a question of evidence but of subjectivity; and subjectivity is the other name for personality. Our action under evidence is the touchstone by which is determined what we are. If evidence which is objectively adequate is not subjectively adequate the fault is in us. If we are not accessible to musical evidence, then we are by nature unmusical, or in a present state of unmusicalness. If we are not accessible to moral evidence, then we are either unmoral, or, being moral beings, immoral. The evidence to which we are accessible is irresistible if adequate, and irresistibly produces belief, faith. And no belief, faith can arise except on the ground of evidence duly apprehended, appreciated, weighed. We may cherish opinions without evidence, or with inadequate evidence; but not possess faith any more than knowledge. All convictions of whatever order are the products of evidence in a mind accessible to the evidence appropriate to these particular convictions.

These things being so, it is easy to see that the sinful heart - which is enmity towards God - is incapable of that supreme act of trust in God - or rather of entrusting itself to God, its Saviour - which has absorbed into itself the term "faith" in its Christian connotation. And it is to avoid this conclusion that many have been tempted to make faith not a rational act of conviction passing into confidence, resting on adequate grounds in testimony, but an arbitrary act of sheer will, produced no one knows how. This is not, however, the solution of the difficulty offered by the

Christian revelation. The solution it offers is frankly to allow the impossibility of "faith" to the sinful heart and to attribute it, therefore, to the gift of God. Not, of course, as if this gift were communicated to man in some mechanical manner, which would ignore or do violence to his psychological constitution or to the psychological nature of the act of faith. The mode of the divine giving of faith is represented rather as involving the creation by God the Holy Spirit of a capacity for faith under the evidence submitted. It proceeds by the divine illumination of the understanding, softening of the heart, and quickening of the will, so that the man so affected may freely and must inevitably perceive the force and yield to the compelling power of the evidence of the trustworthiness of Jesus Christ as Saviour submitted to him in the gospel. In one word the capacity for faith and the inevitable emergence in the heart of faith are attributed by the Christian revelation to that great act of God the Holy Spirit which has come in Christian theology to be called by the significant name of Regeneration. If sinful man as such is incapable of the act of faith, because he is inhabile to the evidence on which alone such an act of confident resting on God the Saviour can repose, renewed man is equally incapable of not responding to this evidence, which is objectively compelling, by an act of sincere faith. In this its highest exercise faith thus, though in a true sense the gift of God, is in an equally true sense man's own act, and bears all the character of faith as it is exercised by unrenewed man in its lower manifestations.

It may conduce to a better apprehension of the essential nature of faith and its relation to the evidence in which it is grounded, if we endeavor to form some notion of the effect of this evidence on the minds of men in the three great stages of their life on earth - as sinless in Paradise, as sinful, as regenerated by the Spirit of God into newness of life. Like every other creature, man is of course absolutely dependent on God. But unlike many other creatures, man, because in his very nature self-conscious, is conscious of his dependence on God; his relation of dependence on God is not merely a fact but a fact of his self-consciousness. This dependence is not confined to any one element of human nature but runs through the whole of man's nature; and as self-conscious being man is conscious of his absolute dependence on God, physically, psychically, morally, spiritually. It is this comprehensive consciousness of dependence on God for and in all the elements of his nature and life, which is the fundamental basis in humanity of faith, in its general religious sense. This faith is but the active aspect of the consciousness of dependence, which, therefore, is the passive aspect of faith. In this sense no man exists, or ever has existed or ever will exist, who has not "faith." But this "faith" takes very different characters in man as unfallen and as fallen and as renewed.

In unfallen man, the consciousness of dependence on God is far from a bare recognition of a fact; it has a rich emotional result in the heart. This emotional product of course includes fear, in the sense of awe and reverence. But its peculiar quality is just active and loving trust. Sinless man delights to be dependent on God and trusts Him wholly. He perceives God as his creator, upholder, governor, and bountiful benefactor, and finds his joy in living, moving, and having his being in Him. All the currents of his life turn to Him for direction and control. In this spontaneous trust of sinless man we have faith at its purest.

Now when man fell, the relation in which he stood to God was fundamentally altered. Not as if he ceased to be dependent on God, in every sphere of his being and activity. Nor even as if he ceased to be conscious of this his comprehensive dependence on God. Even as sinner man cannot but believe in God; the very devils believe and tremble. He cannot escape the knowledge that he is utterly dependent on God for all that he is and does. But his consciousness of dependence on God no longer takes the form of glad and loving trust. Precisely what sin has done to him is to render this trust impossible. Sin has destroyed the natural relation between God and His creature in which the creature trusts God, and has instituted a new relation, which conditions all his immanent as well as transient activities Godward. The sinner is at enmity with God and can look to God only for punishment. He knows himself absolutely dependent on God, but in knowing this, he knows himself absolutely in the power of his enemy. A fearful looking forward to judgment conditions all his thought of God. Faith has accordingly been transformed into unfaith; trust into distrust. He expects evil and only evil from God. Knowing himself to be dependent on God he seeks to be as independent of Him as he can. As he thinks of God, misery and fear and hatred take the place of joy and trust and love. Instinctively and by his very nature the sinner, not being able to escape from his belief in God, yet cannot possibly have faith in God, that is trust Him, entrust himself to Him.

The reëstablishment of this faith in the sinner must be the act not of the sinner himself but of God. This because the sinner has no power to render God gracious, which is the objective root, or to look to God for favor, which is the subjective root of faith in the fiducial sense. Before he can thus believe there must intervene the atoning work of Christ canceling the guilt by which the sinner is kept under the wrath of God, and the recreative work of the Holy Spirit by which the sinner's heart is renewed in the love of God. There is not required a creation of something entirely new, but only a restoration of an old relation and a renewal therewith of an old disposition. Accordingly, although faith in the renewed man bears a different character from faith in unfallen man, inasmuch as it is trust in God not merely for general goodness but for the specific blessing of salvation - that is to say it is soteriological - it yet remains essentially the same thing as in unfallen man. It is in the one case as in the other just trust - that trust which belongs of nature to man as man in relation to his God. And, therefore, though in renewed man it is a gift of God's grace, it does not come to him as something alien to his nature. It is beyond the powers of his nature as sinful man; but it is something which belongs to human nature as such, which has been lost through sin and which can be restored only by the power of God. In this sense faith remains natural even in the renewed sinner, and the peculiar character which belongs to it as the act of a sinner, namely its soteriological reference, only conditions and does not essentially alter it. Because man is a sinner his faith terminates not immediately on God, but immediately on the

mediator, and only through His mediation on God; and it is proximately trust in this mediator for salvation - relief from the guilt and corruption of sin - and only mediately through this relief for other goods. But it makes its way through these intermediating elements to terminate ultimately on God Himself and to rest on Him for all goods. And thus it manifests its fundamental and universal character as trust in God, recognized by the renewed sinner, as by the unfallen creature, as the inexhaustible fountain to His creatures of all blessedness, in whom to live and move and have his being is the creature's highest felicity.

In accordance with the nature of this faith the Protestant theologians have generally explained that faith includes in itself the three elements of notitia, assensus, fiducia. Their primary object has been, no doubt, to protest against the Romish conception which limits faith to the assent of the understanding. The stress of the Protestant definition lies therefore upon the fiducial element. This stress has not led Protestant theologians generally, however, to eliminate from the conception of faith the elements of understanding and assent. No doubt this has been done by some, and it is perhaps not rare even to-day to hear it asserted that faith is so purely trust that there is no element of assent in it at all. And no doubt theologians have differed among themselves as to whether all these elements are to be counted as included in faith, or some of them treated rather as preliminary steps to faith or effects of faith. But speaking broadly Protestant theologians have reckoned all these elements as embraced within the mental movement we call faith itself; and they have obviously been right in so doing. Indeed, we may go further and affirm that all three of these elements are always present in faith - not only in that culminating form of faith which was in the mind of the theologians in question - saving faith in Christ - but in every movement of faith whatever, from the lowest to the highest instances of its exercise. No true faith has arisen unless there has been a perception of the object to be believed or believed in, an assent to its worthiness to be believed or believed in, and a commitment of ourselves to it as true and trustworthy. We cannot be said to believe or to trust in a thing or person of which we have no knowledge; "implicit faith" in this sense is an absurdity. Of course we cannot be said to believe or to trust the thing or person to whose worthiness of our belief or trust assent has not been obtained. And equally we cannot be said to believe that which we distrust too much to commit ourselves to it. In every movement of faith, therefore, from the lowest to the highest, there is an intellectual, an emotional, and a voluntary element, though naturally these elements vary in their relative prominence in the several movements of faith. This is only as much as to say that it is the man who believes, who is the subject of faith, and the man in the entirety of his being as man. The central movement in all faith is no doubt the element of assent; it is that which constitutes the mental movement so called a movement of conviction. But the movement of assent must depend, as it always does depend, on a movement, not specifically of the will, but of the intellect; the assensus issues from the notitia. The movement of the sensibilities which we call "trust," is on the contrary the product of the assent. And it is in this movement of the sensibilities that faith fulfills itself, and it is by it that, as specifically "faith," it is "formed."

Endnotes:

1. Reprinted from The Princeton Theological Review, ix. 1911, pp. 537 566.

2. The Hebrew !ymah, hnwma go back to the idea of "holding": we believe in what "holds." In both the sacred languages, therefore, the fundamental meaning of faith is "surety." Cf. Latin "credo."

3. Cf. M. Heyne's German Dictionary, sub voc. "Glaube": "Glaube is confiding acceptance of a truth. At the basis of the word is the root lub, which, with the general meaning of agreeing with and of approving, appears also in erlauben and loben."

4. Baldwin and Stout, " Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology," i. 1901, pp. 110 and 112.

5. Professor Baldwin does not allow any psychological distinction between "belief" and "knowledge." See sub voc. "Knowledge."

6. Ibid., p. 112. The passage is quoted from Baldwin, "Handbook of Psychology: Feeling and Will," 1891, p. 171.

7. "Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology," i. 1901, p. 603.

8. Baldwin's "Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology," i. 1901, p. 369.

9. In his fuller discussion in his "Foundations of Knowledge," 1900, Part iii. chap. 1, Dr. Ormond tells us that what positively characterizes belief as over against knowledge is, subjectively, that "the volitional motive begins to dominate the epistemological" (p. 306), and, objectively, that the quality of "coerciveness" (p. 307) is lacking. The two criteria come very much to the same thing.

10. "The Works of Thomas Reid," ed. 2, 1849, p. 760 (Note A, § v.).

11. Loc. cit.

12. Ep. 120, [i.] 3 ("Opera Omnia," Paris, ii. 1836, col. 518): "we should not be able to believe if we did not have rational minds."

13. "De prædestinatione sanctorum," [ii.] 5 ("Opera Omnia," X. i. 1838, col. 1349).

14. Ep. 147, [iii.] 8 ("Opera Omnia," ii. 1836, col. 709).

15. On Augustine's doctrine of Faith and Reason see The Princeton Theological Review, v. 1907, pp. 389 ff. (or B. B. Warfield, "Studies in Tertullian and Augustine," 1930, pp. 170ff.).

16. This conception of "faith" naturally became traditional. Thus e.g. Reginald Pecock (middle of the fifteenth century) defines faith as "a knowyng wherbi we assenten to eny thing as to trouth, for as mych as we have sure evydencis gretter than to the contrarie that it is toold and affermid to us to be trewe, bi him of whom we have sure evydencis, or notable likli evydencis, gretter than to the contrarie, that therinne he not lied" ("The Folewer to the Donet," f. 28, cited in J. L. Morison's "Reginald Pecock's Book of Faith," 1909, p. 85). Here we have "faith" resting on evidence; and the specific evidence on which it rests, testimony. Accordingly he defines Christian faith thus: "that feith, of which we speken now, into which we ben bounde, and which is oon of the foundementis of Cristen religioun, is thilke kinde or spice of knowyng, which a man gendrith and getith into his undirstonding, principali bi the telling or denouncing of another persoone, which may not lie, or which is God" ("The Booke of Faith," I. i. f. 9a, Morison's edition, p. 123). At the end of the discussion (f. 10a) Pecock plainly adds: "and bi this maner of his geting and gendring, feith is dyvers from other kindis and spicis of kunnyngis, which a man gendrith and getith into his undirstonding bi bisynes and labour of his natural resoun, bi biholding upon the causis or effectis or circumstancis in nature of the conclusioun or trouthe, and withoute eny attendaunce maad to eny sure teller or denouncer, that thilk conclusioun is a trouthe."

17. "Contra academicos," iii. [xx.] 43 ("Opera Omnia," Paris, i. 1836, col. 488). Cf. "De ordine," ii. [ix.] 26 ("Opera Omnia," i. coll. 568 f.).

18. "Retractationea," I, xiv. 3 ("Opera Omnia," i. coll. 52 f.).

19. "It is the nature and tendency of the word," says Bishop Moule, "to go out towards a person. . . . When we speak of having Faith we habitually direct the notion either towards a veritable person, or towards something which we personify in the mind. . . . I do not attempt to explain the fact, as fact I think it is. Perhaps we may trace in it a far-off echo of that primeval Sanskrit word whose meaning is 'to bind' . . ." ("Faith: its Nature and its Work," 1909, pp. 10-11).

20. Dr. Richard Beard, "Lectures on Theology," ii. 1871, pp. 362-363.

21. Dr. Beard, as cited, p. 364.

The Archology of the Mode of Baptism

by B. B. Warfield

IT IS rather striking to observe the diversity which has grown up in the several branches of the Christian Church in the mode of administering the initiatory rite of Christianity. Throughout the whole West, affusion is in use. The ritual of the great Latin Church directs as follows: "Then the godfather or godmother, or both, holding the infant, the priest takes the baptismal water in a little vessel or jug, and pours the same three times upon the head of the infant in the form of the cross, and at the same time he says, uttering the words once only, distinctly and attentively: 'N, I baptize thee in the name of the Father,' - he pours first; 'and of the Son' - he pours a second time; 'and of the Holy Ghost' - he pours the third time." Here is a trine affusion. With the exception of the large Baptist denominations, Protestants use a single affusion. The Baptists employ a single immersion. Throughout the East a trine immersion is the rule. Although practice seems sometimes to vary whether all three immersions shall be total, the Orthodox Greek Church insists somewhat strenuously upon trine immersion. The ritual in use in the Russian Church directs as follows: "And after he has anointed the whole body the Priest baptizes the candidate, held erect and looking towards the east, and says: 'The servant (handmaid) of God, N, is baptized in the Name of the Father, Amen; and of the Son, Amen; and of the Holy Ghost, Amen; now and ever, and to ages of ages, Amen.' At each invocation he immerses the candidate and raises him again." Significant variations obtain, however, among the other Oriental communions. The Nestorians, for example, cause the candidate to stand erect in water reaching to the neck, and dip the head three times. The Syrians, whether Jacobite or Maronite, place the candidate upright on his feet and pour water three times over his head in the name of the Trinity. The office of the Syrian Church of Jerusalem provides as follows: "The priest… first lets the candidate down into the baptistery. Then laying his right hand on the head of the person to be baptized, with his left hand he takes up water successively from before, behind, and from each side of the candidate, and pours it upon his head, and washes his whole body (funditque super caput ejus, et abluit totum ipsius corpus)." In the Coptic Church the custom has become fixed for the priest to dip the body the first time up to the middle, the second time up to the neck, and the third time over the head.f353 Sometimes, however, apparently, the actual practice is that the child is dipped only up to the neck, and the immersion is completed by pouring the water over the head. The Armenians duplicate the rite in a very odd way. Among them, we are told, "the priest asks the child's name, and on hearing it, lets the child down into the water, saying, 'This N, servant of God, who is come from the state of childhood (or from the state of a Catechumen) to Baptism, is baptized in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.'… While saying this the priest buries the child (or Catechumen) three times in the water, as a figure of Christ's three days' burial. Then taking the child out of the water he thrice pours a handful of water on its head, saying, 'As many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. Hallelujah! As many of you as have been enlightened of the Father, the Holy Spirit is put into you. Hallelujah!'

As many of you as have been enlightened of the Father, the Holy Spirit is put into you. Hallelujah!'"f355 If we neglect for the moment the usages of minor divisions of the Church, we may say that the practice of the Church is divided into an Eastern and a Western mode. Broadly speaking, the East baptizes by a trine immersion; the West by affusion. When we scrutinize the history of these differing practices, however, we quickly learn that, with whatever unessential variations in details, the usage of the East runs back into a high antiquity; while there are indications on the surface of the Western usage that it is comparatively recent in origin, and survivals of an older custom persist side by side with it. To be sure, the immersion as practised by the Protestant Baptists can scarcely be numbered among these survivals. The original Baptists apparently did not immerse; and Dr. Dexter appears to have shown that even the first English Baptists who seceded from the Puritan emigrants and formed a congregation at Amsterdam, baptized by affusion.f356 It would seem that it was by the English Baptists of the seventeenth century that immersion was first declared to be essential to valid baptism; and the practice of immersion by them can be looked upon as a survival from an earlier time only in the sense that it was a return to an earlier custom, although with the variation of a single instead of a trine immersion. We may more properly designate as a survival the practice of immersion which has subsisted in the great cathedral of Milanf357- a diocese in which many peculiar customs survive to remind us of its original independence of Rome. The Roman ritual itself, indeed, continues to provide for immersion as well as for affusion, the rubric reading:

"If he baptizes by immersion, the priest retaining the mitre, rises and takes the infant ; and being careful not to hurt it, cautiously immerses its head in the water, and baptizing with a trine immersion, says only a single time: "'N, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.'"

A similar survival appears in the Anglican Prayer Book,f358 the rubric in which runs as follows: "Then the priest shall take the child into his hands, and shall say to the godfathers and godmothers, 'Name this child.' And then, naming it after them (if they shall certify him that the child may well endure it), he shall dip it into the water discreetly and warily, saying, 'N, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.' But if they shall certify that the child is weak, it shall suffice to pour water upon it, saying the foresaid words," etc. Here immersion — though a single immersion — is made the rule; and affusion appears only as an exception — although an exception which has in practice become the rule. The Prayer Book of the Protestant Episcopal Church in America accordingly parallels the two modes, the rubric reading: "And then, naming it [the child] after them, he shall dip it in water discreetly or else pour water upon it, saying," etc. A similar reminiscence of the older usage was near being perpetuated in the formularies of the British and American Presbyterian churches. John Lightfoot has preserved for us a curious account of the debate in the Westminster Assembly upon the question whether the new Directory for Worship should recognize immersion alongside of affusion as an alternative mode of baptism, or should exclude it altogether in favor of affusion. The latter was determined upon; but Lightfoot tells us, "It was voted so indifferently, that we were glad to count names twice: for so many were unwilling to have dipping excluded, that the votes came to an equality within one; for the one side was twenty-four — the other, twenty-five."f359 The guarded clauses which finally took their places in the Westminster Directory and Confession of Faith, reflect the state of opinion in the Assembly revealed by this close vote; and, when read in its light, will not fail to operate to enshrine still a reminiscence of the earlier custom of baptism by immersion. If we will bear in mind the history of the mode of baptism in the English Church as thus exhibited in the formularies framed by her, we shall be at no loss to understand how it came about that the English Baptists desired to revive the custom of immersion, or how it happened that, in reviving it, they gave it the form of a single immersion.

Survivals such as these prepare us to learn that there was a time when immersion was as universal even in the West as in the East. In certain sections, to be sure, as in Southern Gaul and its ecclesiastical daughter, Ireland, affusion appears to have come into quite general use at a very early date. Gennadius of Marseilles (495) already speaks of the two modes of baptism as if they stood upon something like the same plane; he is comparing baptism and martyrdom, and remarks: "The one after his Confession is either wetted with the Water, or else plung'd into it: And the other is either wetted with his own Blood, or else is plung'd in Fire."f360 By the time of Bonaventura affusion appears to have become the common French method; a synod at Anglers in 1175 mentions the two as on an equal footing, while one in 1304, at Langres, mentions pouring only. Possibly affusion first found a formal place in a baptismal office in the case of the earliest Irish ritual, in which it is made, as in the office of the American Protestant Episcopal Church, alternative with immersion. But it was not until the thirteenth century that it began to become the ruling mode of baptism on the Continent,f362 and not until after the Reformation, in England. Walafrid Strabo, writing in the ninth century, speaks of it as exceptional only. Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth century still represents immersion as the most common and commendable way of baptizing, because of its more vivid representation of the burial of Christ; and only recommends affusion in case the whole body cannot be wet on account of paucity of water, or some other cause — in which case, he says, "the head in which is manifested the principle of animal life, ought to be wet." His contemporary, Bonaventura, while mentioning that affusion was commonly used in France, gives his own opinion as that "the way of dipping into water is the more common and the fitter and safer." A council at Ravenna in 1311, however, declared the two modes equally valid; and the rubric of the baptismal service edited by Paul V (1605-1621) treats the matter as entirely indifferent: "Though baptism may be administered by affusion, or immersion, or aspersion, yet let the first or second mode which are more in use, be retained, agreeably to the usage of the churches."f363 The change was much slower in establishing itself in England. A century before Paul V, Erasmus witnesses: "With us infants are poured upon; with the English, they are immersed." The first Prayer Book of Edward VI (1549) directs a trine immersion: "first, dypping the right side; secondly, the left side; the third time, dypping the face towards the fronte." Permission is first given to substitute pouring, if the sponsors certify that the child is weak, in the second Prayer Book (1552), and in the same book trine immersion is changed to single immersion. The form at present in use does not appear until the Prayer Book of Charles II (1662).

There is a sense, then, in which we may say broadly that the present diversity in baptismal usage is a growth of time; and that, should we move back within the first millennium of the Church's life, we should find the whole Christian world united in the ordinary use of trine immersion. The meaning of this fact to us will be conditioned, however, by the results of two further lines of inquiry. We should inquire whether this universality of trine immersion was itself the result of ecclesiastical development, or whether it represents primitive, that is, apostolic practice. And we should inquire whether conformity to this mode of baptism was held to be essential to the validity of baptism, or only necessary to the good order of the Church.

The second of these queries is very readily answered. There never was a time when the Church insisted upon immersion as the only valid mode of baptism.f365 The very earliest extant account of baptism, that given in the "Teaching of the Twelve Apostles" (chap. 7), which comes to us from the first half of the second century, while evidently contemplating ordinary baptism as by immersion, yet freely allows affusion in case of scarcity of water: "But if thou hast neither [living water nor standing water in sufficient quantity], pour water on the head three times, into the name of the Father and Son and Holy Spirit." "We have here," comments Harnack, "for the first time obtained evidence that even the earliest Christians had, under certain conditions, recourse to baptisms by sprinkling — a very important point, since it shows that the scruples about baptisms in this manner were only of late origin in the Catholic Church."f366 "You have here," comments Funk,f367 "the oldest witness for the form of affusion or aspersion in administering baptism… Notice also that the author holds that form valid with certitude… "From that day to this, the Church as a whole has allowed the validity of baptism by affusion, in case of necessity, whether the necessity arise from scarcity of water or from weakness of the recipient, rendering immersion a cruelty. Even the Orthodox Greek Church which, in its polemic attitude against Latin affusion, is apt to lay great stress on immersion, is yet forced to admit the validity of affusion in cases of necessity.f368 And Dr. Washburn tells us of the other Oriental churches: "While trine immersion is the general rule, none of the churches in the East insist upon this as in all cases essential. All admit that in exceptional cases other forms are valid. The Jacobites do not practice immersion at all, and the Armenians recognize the full validity of affusion or sprinkling in any case."

The whole case of the validity of clinic baptism — or the baptism of the sick on their bed, ejn th~| kli>nh|, whence they were called klinikoi, clinici, and more rarely grabatarii, lectularii, or even superfusi — was canvassed by Cyprian in the third century in a manner which seems to show not only that it had been commonly practised, but also that it had not been formally challenged before.f370 He declares that clinic baptism by aspersion has all the necessary elements of baptism, so that all such baptisms are perfect, provided faith is not wanting in ministrant and recipient - the mode of the application of the water not being of essential importance. He argues that, as the contagion of sin is not washed away like the filth of the body by the water itself, there is no need of a lake for its cleansing: it is the abundance not of the water but of faith that gives efficacy to the sacrament, and God will grant His indulgence for the "abridgment"f371 of a sacrament when necessity requires it. The essential portion of Cyprian's representation runs as follows:

You have asked also, dearest son, what I thought of those who obtain God's grace in sickness and weakness, whether they are to be accounted legitimate Christians, for that they are not to be washed (loti), but sprinkled (perfusi), with the saving water. In this point, my diffidence and modesty prejudges none, so as to prevent any from feeling what he thinks right, and from doing what he feels to be right. As far as my poor understanding conceives it, I think that the divine benefits can in no respect be mutilated and weakened; nor can anything less occur in that case (æstimamus in hullo mutilari et debilitari posse beneficia divina nec minus aliquid illic posse contingere), where, with full and entire faith both of the giver and receiver, what is drawn from the divine gifts is accepted. For in the sacrament of salvation the contagion of sins is not in such wise washed away, as the filth of the skin and of the body is washed away in carnal and ordinary washing, as that there should be need of saltpeter and other appliances also, and a bath and a basin wherewith this vile body must be washed and purified. Otherwise is the breast of the believer washed; otherwise is the mind of man purified by the merit of faith. In the sacraments of salvation, when necessity compels, and God bestows His mercy, the divine methods confer the whole benefit on believers (in sacramentis salutaribus necessitate cogente et Deo indulgentiam suam largiente totum credentibus conferunt divina compendia ); nor ought it to trouble any one that sick people seem to be sprinkled or affused, when they obtain the Lord's grace, when Holy Scripture speaks by the mouth of the prophet Ezekiel, and says, "Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean:…" [quoting further, <041908>Numbers 19:8-9, 12-13; 8:5-7]… Or have they obtained indeed the divine favor, but in a shorter and more limited measure of the divine gift and of the Holy Spirit… ? Nay, verily, the Holy Spirit is not given by measure, but is poured out altogether on the believer.

Those who were thus baptized were often looked upon with suspicion, seeing that they were frequently such as had neglected baptism until they believed they were dying (the so-called procrastinantes, bradu>nontev), and in any case had not fulfilled the full period of their catechumenate and were therefore supposed to be insufficiently instructed in Christian knowledge, and seeing that they had been brought to Christ by necessity, as it were, and not by choice and lacked the grace of confirmation and all that it was supposed to imply.f373 They were therefore denied the right to receive orders in the Church, except when a scarcity of men fitted for orders, or other necessity, forbade the strictness of this rule. This judgment concerning them is already brought to light in the letter of Cornelius on the Novatian heresy, quoted by Eusebius;f374 and the reason on which it rested is clearly expressed in the canon of the Council of Neo-Cæsarea (314; c. 12): "He that is baptized when he is sick ought not to be made a priest (for his coming to the faith is not voluntary but from necessity) unless his diligence and faith do afterwards prove commendable, or the scarcity of men fit for the office do require it." There were reasons enough to look on those who had so received baptism with suspicion; but the validity of the baptism so conferred was not itself in doubt. As little did men doubt the propriety and validity of baptism by affusion when scarcity of water rendered immersion impossible. This is the precise case which occurs in the prescriptions of the "Teaching of the Twelve Apostles"; and that the practice of the churches continued in accordance with these prescriptions may be illustrated by a variety of references which have come down to us. For example, in the seventh century canons of James of Edessa, the priest is instructed to baptize a dying child with whatever amount of water he happens to have near him.

When an unbaptized infant is in danger of death, and its mother carries it in haste even to the field, to a priest who is at work there, where there is no stream, and no basin, and no water-vessel, if there is only water there for the priest's use, and necessity requires haste, what is proper for him to do? Jacob — In necessity like this it is right for the priest, if water happens to be with him, to take the pitcher of water and pour it upon the infant's head, even though its mother is holding it in her hands, and say, "Such an one is baptized in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit."

Indeed, so little was immersion of the essence of baptism to Syrian Christians, that we read of their mistaking for baptism in the twelfth century the blessed water of the feast of the Epiphany with which "every believer who entered the Holy Church was signed after the manner of the cross," "or sprinkled," and only thus "approached the mysteries"; so that the authorities needed to guard them from this error.f377 A body of legends from every part of the Church illustrates the same conception. There are, for example, the well-known stories of St. Lawrence baptizing Romanus with a pitcher of water, and of Lucillus baptizing by pouring water on the head.f378 There is the curious story of the bishop observing the boy Athanasius "playing at church" with his young companions and baptizing them, and the decision of the council that "as water had been poured upon these persons" after the interrogations and responses, the baptism was complete.f379 There is the similar story of travelers baptizing a Jew in the desert by sprinkling sand three times on his body, and the decision that true baptism had taken place in all but the material, with the order that the Jew was now to be perfusus with it.f380 The Copts have a story of a woman, who, in a storm at sea, drew blood from her breast and made the sign of the cross on the foreheads of her children with it, repeating the formula of baptism. On arrival at Alexandria she took them to the bishop for baptism, but the water in the font petrified to prevent the sacrilege of a repetition of a baptism thus declared valid.f381 It is not needful to multiply examples of such legends: they bear witness to much popular superstition; but they bear witness along with it to a universal allowance of the validity of baptism by affusion.

Perhaps in no way is the universality of this sentiment more pointedly brought out, than in its easy assumption in the discussion by the Fathers of the salvation of the apostles or of other ancient worthies who had died unbaptized. We meet already in Tertullian with the point of view which pervades all the attempts to explain their salvation: "And now," he says, "as far as I shall be able, I will reply to them who affirm 'that the apostles were unbaptized.'" He quotes some suggestions to the contrary, and continues:

Others make the suggestion, - forced enough, clearly - "that the apostles then served the turn of baptism when, in their little ship, they were sprinkled and covered with the waves: that Peter himself also was immersed enough when he walked on the sea." It is, however, as I think, one thing to be sprinkled or intercepted by the violence of the sea; another thing to be baptized in obedience to the discipline of religion.

He refuses, in other words, to look upon a chance wetting as baptism, but the mode in which the wetting is supposed to come raises no doubt in his mind: nor indeed is he too seriously concerned "whether they were baptized in any manner whatever, or whether they continued unbathed (illoti) to the end." The Syriac "Book of the Bee," on the other hand, deems it important to insist on the baptism of the apostles, and finds it in the following way:

And Mar Basilius says that on the eve of the passion, after the disciples had received the body and blood of our Lord, our Lord put water in a basin, and began to wash his disciples' feet; and this was the baptism of the Apostles. But they were not all made perfect, for they were not all pure. For Judas, the son of perdition, was not made holy; and because this basin of washing was in very truth baptism; just as our Lord said to Simon Peter, "Except I wash thee, thou hast no part with me," that is, except I baptize thee thou cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.\

We may take, however, Augustine's discussion of the ease of the thief on the cross as our typical example of the way in which the Fathers dealt with these, to them, puzzling facts. Accordingly, the thief, who was no follower of the Lord previous to the cross, but His confessor upon the cross, from whose ease a presumption is sometimes taken, or attempted, against the sacrament of baptism, is reckoned by St. Cyprian among the martyrs who are baptized in their own blood, as happens to many unbaptized persons in times of hot persecution. For to the fact that he confessed the crucified Lord so much weight is attributed and so much availing value assigned by Him who knows how to weigh and value such evidence, as if he had been crucified for the Lord… There was discovered in him the full measure of a martyr, who then believed in Christ when they fell away who were destined to be martyrs. All this, indeed, was manifest to the eyes of the Lord, who at once bestowed so great felicity on one who, though not baptized, was yet washed clean in the blood, as it were, of martyrdom… Besides all this, there is the circumstance, which is not incredibly reported, that the thief who then believed as he hung by the side of the crucified Lord was sprinkled, as in a most sacred baptism, with the water which issued from the wound of the Saviour's side. I say nothing of the fact that nobody can prove, since none of us knows that he had not been baptized previous to his condemnation.

Such unhesitating appeals as this to "sprinkling," as confessedly true and valid baptism, if only it can be believed to have taken place, reveal to us in a most convincing way the patristic attitude towards this mode of baptism. With whatever stringency trine immersion may have been held the right and only regular mode of baptism, it is perfectly obvious that other modes were not considered invalid and no baptism. We read of those who baptized with a single immersion being condemned as acting contrary to the command of Christ,f385 or as making a new law, not only against the common practice, but also against the general rule and tradition of the Church;f386 and we find the deposition ordered of every bishop or presbyter who transgressed good order by administering baptism by a single immersion:f387 but the form or mode is ever treated as having the necessity of order and never as having the necessity of means. Accordingly we find that the very mode of baptism against which these charges and canons were directed — that by a single immersion ¾ was easily allowed, when sufficient occasion for its introduction arose. Trine immersion was insisted upon on two symbolical grounds: it represented Christ's three days' burial and His resurrection on the third day; but more fundamentally it represented baptism as into faith in the three persons of the Trinity. "Rightly ye are immersed a third time," says Augustine, "ye who accept baptism in the name of the Trinity. Rightly ye are immersed the third time, ye who accept baptism in the name of Jesus Christ, who on the third day rose from the dead." The Arians in Spain, however, in the sixth century, while following the general custom of trine immersion, explained it as denoting a first, second, and third degree of divinity in the three persons named in the formula. This led some Spanish Catholics to baptize with only one immersion, in testimony to the equality of the Divine Persons in the unity of the Godhead; and when disputes arose as to this divergence from ordinary custom, Leander, Bishop of Seville, appealed for advice in his own name and in that of the other Spanish bishops to Gregory the Great. Gregory replied as follows: Nothing truer can be said concerning the three immersions of baptism than the opinion you have yourself given, that diversity of custom does not prejudice the holy Church if the faith be one (quod in una fide nihil afficit sanctae ecclesiae consuetudo diversa). We use trine immersion that we may signify the mystery of the three days' burial, so that as the infant is raised three times from the water, the resurrection on the third day may be expressed. But if any one thinks this is done rather out of veneration for the Holy Trinity, neither does a single immersion in water do any prejudice to this; for, as there is one substance in three Persons, there can be nothing reprehensible in an infant's being immersed either thrice or once, — because in the three immersions the Trinity of Persons may be as well designated as in one immersion the unity of the Godhead. But seeing that now the infant is three times immersed in baptism by heretics, I think that this ought not to be done by you: lest while they multiply the immersions they divide the Godhead; and while they continue as before they glory in the victory of their custom.f388 The application of the principle here is, of course, not to affusion or aspersion but to single immersion; but the broad principle that "divergent custom in unity of faith is no detriment to the holy Church" is quite clearly laid down, and is made the basis of advice which runs counter to all previous custom. This did not mean that all canonical authority should be broken down, or that each church should not order its affairs by its own canons. They of Rome continued to use and to insist upon trine immersion; they of Spain, after a few years' struggle, decreed at the Council of Toledo (633) that only a single immersion should be used thereafter in their churches: and though later offense was taken here and there with the Spanish custom, yet it received the support of both German and French synods, and the Council of Worms (868) finally recognized both practices. But the whole incident shows perfectly clearly that a distinction requires to be drawn between regular or canonical and valid baptism; and the passages which have been quoted from Cyprian, Augustine, and Gregory, when taken together, seem to show that the Church of that age did not contemplate the possibility that difference in mode of baptism could operate to the absolute invalidation of the rite. We meet with no evidence from the writings of the Fathers that baptism by affusion was held anything other than irregular and extraordinary; but we meet with no evidence that it was accounted void: it was even held, on the contrary, imperative duty in case of necessity, whether on account of paucity of water or on account of the weakness of the recipient.

The evidence of the practice of affusion as something more than an unusual and extraordinary mode of baptism which fails us in the writings of the Fathers, seems to be provided, however, in the monumental representations of the rite. The apparent evidence of the monuments runs, indeed, oddly athwart the consentient witness of the literary remains. It may be broadly said that the Fathers, from the second century down through the patristic age, represent ordinary and regular baptism to be a rite performed on perfectly nude recipients by a form of trine immersion. In seemingly direct contradiction to this literary evidence, we read in one of the latest and most judicious handbooks of Christian archæology: "It is most noteworthy that from the second to the ninth century there is found scarcely one pictorial representation of baptism by immersion; but the suggestion is almost uniformly either of sprinkling or pouring."f389 Representations which clearly indicate immersion neither were impossible nor are altogether lacking;f390 but they bear no proportion in number to those which seem to imply the act of pouring, and when clear are usually of late date. On the other hand, representations in which affusion seems to be implied are of all ages and comparatively numerous. The fact is so obvious, indeed, that with a bald statement of it we might be tempted to conclude that the literary and monumental evidences stand in hopeless contradiction.

Any survey of the monumental evidence which would hope to be fruitful must begin with a sharp distinction between two series of representations - those which depict the historical scene of the baptism of Christ, and those which depict ordinary baptism. The treatment of neither of these subjects has escaped influence from the other. Artists seeking to represent the rite of baptism have not always given a perfectly realistic rendering of the service as seen by them day after day in their own baptistery, but have allowed reminiscences of familiar representations of our Lord's baptism to affect their treatment. And on the other hand they have not been able to exclude the influence of the rite of baptism as customarily administered before their eyes, from affecting their representation of Christ's baptism. Even the most incongruous features from ordinary baptism have sometimes with great naïveté been permitted to enter into their pictured conception of Christ's baptism; thus very early our Lord is represented as of immature age, and later He is even sometimes placed in a sculptured marble font.f391 But despite the influence exerted upon one another by the two series of representations, they stand in very different relations to our present inquiry; and must be used not only separately but in different ways. Representations of the baptism of Christ have a definite historical scene to depict, and can tell us what contemporary baptism was like only accidentally and so far as the artist has forgotten himself. Representations of the rite of baptism on the other hand are available as direct witnesses of Christian usage, except in so far as they may be judged to depict what was conceived to be ideal baptism rather than what was actual at the date of their production, or to have been affected by traditional modes of representation or by influences from parallel scenes, as, for example, from the representations of the baptism of Christ. Each series may, however, have something to teach us in its own way, as to how Christians baptized in the earlier ages of the Church.

The sequence of representations of the baptism of Christ may be very conveniently examined in the plates of Dr. Josef Strzygowski's "Iconographie der Taufe Christi," to which he has prefixed a very illuminating discussion. Dr. Strzygowski cannot be acquitted, indeed, of bending his material a little here and there to fit what he is led, from the literature of that age, to expect the representation of baptism to be in each age. The purity of his induction is thus marred, and the independence of the testimony of the art-evidence to some degree affected. But he has placed in his reader's hands, both in the course of the discussion itself and in the series of representations given in his plates, ample material to guard against the slight deflection which may arise from this cause. The series of representations of the baptism of Christ begins with a fresco in the crypt of Lucina in the Roman catacombs, which seems to belong to the opening of the second century. Here Christ is represented as being aided by John to step up out of the river in which He is still immersed almost up to His middle. Then, there is a somewhat enigmatical fresco in the catacomb of Praetextatus, assigned to the end of the second or beginning of the third century, which is variously interpreted as a representation of our Lord's baptism (so Garrucci and Roller) or of His crowning with thorns (so Martigny and De Rossi). In this picture Christ stands, clothed, on the ground, while a second figure stretches over His head something which looks like a twig, and there is a cloud of something surrounding His head. If baptism be represented here, it is evidently conceived as a simple affusion. After the frescoes, come a series of representations on sarcophagi belonging to the early post-Constantinian age. As a type,f394 these represent Christ as a boy, naked, generally in full face, with the head turned slightly to the left towards John, and the arms hanging down. John either holds his right hand over Christ or rests it on His forehead. Jordan pours its water out of a lump of rock, hanging over Christ from behind; while a dove generally flies near the rock. Among these representations there are also some, as, for example, the sarcophagus of Junius Bassus (d. 359), in which lambs symbolically take the place of persons; and either light or water or something else is poured from the beak of the dove on the head of the lamb which represents Christ.f395 On the cover of a fourth century sarcophagus in the Lateran,f396 John is represented as pouring water on the head of Christ from a bowl: but Strzygowski points out that this portion of the sculpture is a later restoration. The Ravenna Mosaics come next in point of time: and in the primary one of these — that in the Baptisterium Ursianum (middle of fifth century) — John is again represented as pouring water on Christ's head from a bowl; but again Strzygowski considers this feature to be due to later restoration.f397 The typical representation at this date seems to be of Christ, waist- deep in Jordan, with John's hand resting on, and the dove immediately above, His head. From the opening of the eighth century we have a new type which places a jug in the beak of the dove from which water pours upon Christ's head,f398 while from the twelfth century examples occur in which John pours water from an urn;f399 and something of this sort becomes everywhere the ruling type from the fourteenth century on.f400 As we review the whole series of representations of the baptism of Christ, we are struck with the absence from it of decisive representations of complete immersion: it may be interpreted as a series of immersions, but in any case it is strangely full of hints of incomplete immersion, which can only be accounted for by the influence of contemporary habit in baptizing upon the artist, as he attempted to depict this historical scene. It is hardly possible to understand the manner in which the artists have pictured to themselves the baptism of Christ, without postulating familiarity on their part with baptism as something else than a simple immersion.

This judgment is fully borne out by the parallel series of representation of the rite of baptism in general. This series also begins in the Roman catacombs- in the so-called sacramental chapel of the catacombs of Callistus, where we have two frescoes dating from the opening of the third century.f401 In both of these the river is still presupposed — probably a trait in representing baptismal scenes borrowed from the typical instance of the baptism of Christ. Into it the neophyte has descended, but the water scarcely reaches his ankles. John stands on the adjoining ground with his right hand on the neophyte's head. In one of the pictures a cloud of water surrounds the head. In neither case is a complete immersion possible; and in one of them affusion seems to be evident. For the period after Constantinef402 we have three especially important monuments: a gravestone from Aquileiaf403 on which the neophyte stands in a shallow font and water descends on him from above; a silver spoon from Aquileiaf404 on which the water descends on the head of the neophyte from the beak of the dove; and a glass fragment found in the ruins of an old Roman house, representing a girl upon whom water descends from a vase, while she is surrounded with spray from it.f405 The representation of the baptism of St. Ambrose on the famous Paliotto in S. Ambrogio at Milan, comes from a later date (ca. 827). Here the recipient stands in a font up to his middle and the priest pours water on his head from a vase.f406 The later examples fall entirely in line with these earlier ones; says Kirsch:f407 "A complete immersion is not found in the West even in the first period of the middle-ages, but the form of representation which we have just noted goes over into the later art with certain modifications." We need not pause to note the examples that are adduced in illustration of what seems the general course of later art- representations: our interest will naturally center in the earlier examples already cited. In them there seems to be borne an unbroken testimony to baptism by affusion.

It is, of course, impossible to believe that the literary and monumental testimony as to the mode of baptism prevalent in the patristic Church, is really as contradictory as it might at first sight seem. Reconciliation of the two lines of evidence has naturally been sought by the students of the subject; and equally naturally, in different directions. Sometimes the method adopted seems only forcibly to subject one class of evidence to the other. Dr. Withrow, for example, seems ready to neglect the literary evidence in favor of the monumental, speaking of immersion as if it were only a fourth or fifth century corruption of the earlier rite represented in the art remains, and pleading, against its primitive employment, that it is not represented in the catacombs and that the early fonts are not suitable for it- with an inclination to include among the fonts the so-called benitièrs or "holy-water vessels" of the catacombs.f408 On the other hand, it is not uncommon to see the monumental evidence set practically aside in favor of the literary. This is done in some degree, as we have seen, even by Strzygowski. A tendency towards it is found also even in so judicious a writer as the late Dr. Schaff,f409 who pleads that, as it is impossible to depict the whole process of baptism, we must read the monumental representations as giving only one moment in the complete trine immersion witnessed to in the contemporary literature, and not treat them as representing the whole rite — though he does not stop to tell us what part affusion plays in an ordinary immersion. The fullest and most plausible statement of this point of view is made by Victor Schultze in his "Archäologische Studien fiber altchristliche Monumente."f410 Quoting De Rossi's opinion that the baptism of the boy depicted in the catacombs of St. Callistus with a cloud of water about his head, is a mixed form of immersion and affusion, he comments thus: "Such a rite, however, never in reality existed, f411and is seen to be an illusion from the consideration that aspersion is nothing else than a substitute for immersion and was but gradually developed out of it. The first traces of aspersion are found among the Gnostics, and this circumstance, as well as the blame which Irenæus had for the rite, are proof that the Church had not adopted aspersion in the third century." He proceeds to remark that if the fresco is of Tertullian's time, it must certainly represent immersion, as that Father knows no other baptism;f412 and then explains the scene as representing the moment when the candidate is just rising from the water after immersion, and the water brought up with him is streaming from his head and person; whereas, if aspersion had been the idea of the artist, he would doubtless have placed a vessel in the hand of the administrator, as is done in later pictures. These very acute remarks overlook, however, two decisive facts — the facts namely that the water in which the youth stands is too shallow for immersion, and that this fresco does not stand by itself but is one of a series of representations, no one of which speaks clearly of immersion, and many of which make aspersion perfectly clear. Such an explanation of the one picture as Schultze offers would only render the explanation of the series as a whole impossible.

Rather than adopt either of these extreme views which would imply the untrustworthiness of one or the other lines of evidence, it would be easier to believe that the monumental evidence represented the actual practice of the Church while the literary evidence preserved the canonical form of the Church. It would be no unheard-of thing if the actual practice varied from the official form: indeed, we know as a matter of fact, that not only have such changes in general, but that this change in particular has usually taken effect in practice before it has been recognized in law. It was only because actual baptism had come to be by affusion that the Western Church was led in later ages to place affusion on a par in her formularies with immersion: and the same history was subsequently wrought out in the English Church. It would not be at all inconceivable, that from the beginning the actual celebration of baptism differed somewhat from the formal ritual; and this difference might well underlie the different testimony borne by the monuments as representations of what was actually done, and by the Fathers as representatives of the formal ritual. Whether and how far this hypothesis will avail or is needed for the explanation of the facts before us, may be left, however, for subsequent consideration.

We need to note, now, certain other suggestions which have been made for the harmonizing of the divergent lines of evidence, from which we shall gain more light upon the problem. Mark Marriott,f414 for example, supposes that early baptism included both immersion and affusion, something as the modern Armenian rite does; and that the artists have chosen the moment of affusion for their representation. This acute suggestion, however, scarcely offers a complete explanation of the facts. For unless affusion was the characteristic and determining element in baptism, it will be difficult to account for the almost unvarying choice of this moment in the rite for representation. It is needful to bear in mind the unsophisticated and unconscious nature of monumental testimony; the artist, seeking to convey the idea of baptism to the observers of his picture, would choose for representation, out of mere necessity, a moment in the rite which would at once suggest "baptism" to the beholders of his work. Mark Marriott's view does not seem, then, to remove the conflict between the literary and monumental evidence; the literary evidence represents immersion, and the monumental evidence affusion; as the characteristic feature of the rite. M. Roller has still another useful suggestion: he distinguishes localities, remarking that in the Orient and Africa, baptism may have been by "a triple immersion and a tripleemersion, accompanied by a triple confession of faith in the Father, in the Son, and in the Holy Ghost," while in Rome Christians may have been for a time satisfied with "an immersion less complete." Our attention is thus at least called to the important fact that our early monumental evidence is local — confined to Rome and Roman dependencies. But again the explanation is inadequate for the whole problem: the conflict exists in Rome itself. It is not only the second and third century pictures, but also the representations from the fifth and sixth and seventh centuries and beyond, in which stress is laid on the moment of affusion. When Jerome and Leo and Pelagius and Gregory were speaking of trine immersion as of order in Rome, the artists were still laying stress on affusion. The only theory known to us which seems to do full justice to both classes of facts - those gathered from the literature and monuments alike- is that which De Rossi has revivedf415 and given the support of his great name. This supposes that normal baptism was performed in the early Church by a mode which united immersion and affusion in a single rite ¾ not, as in the Armenian rite, making them separate parts of a repeated ritual.f416 We shall arrive, indeed, at something like this conclusion if we will proceed simply by scrutinizing the two lines of evidence somewhat sharply. We will observe, for example, that though affusion is emphasized by the monuments, it is not necessarily a simple affusion. The candidate stands in water, which reaches to his ankles or even to his knees in the earlier pictures, and in later ones to his waist or above. Hence Dr. Schaff says, "Pouring on the head while the candidate stands on dry ground, receives no aid from the Catacombs… "f417This is a rather extreme statement. The fresco in the catacomb of Praetextatus, if it be thought to represent baptism, would be a very early example to the contrary;f418 and symbolical representations on somewhat later monuments — as for instance that on the sarcophagus of Bassus — do not indicate water below. But if it be read only as a general remark, it is worthy of remark. The points of importance to be gleaned from the monuments are that the candidate was baptized standing, ordinarily at least standing in water, and the affusion was a supplement to the water below. And if we so read the monuments we shall find ourselves in no necessary disaccord with the literary notices. The idea in any case would be an entire bath. The candidate standing in the water, this could be accomplished either by sinking the head beneath the water or by raising the water over the head. The monuments simply bear their witness to the prevalence of the latter mode of completing the ordinance. And when we once perceive this, we perceive also that the pictured monuments do not stand alone in this testimony. The extant fonts also suggest this form of the rite. And the literary notices themselves are filled with indications that the mode of baptism thus suggested was the common mode throughout the Christian world. This is implied, indeed, in the significance attached to the baptism of the head.f419 "When we dip our heads in water as in a grave," says Chrysostom, "our old man is buried; and when we rise up again, the new man rises therewith."f420 The ritual given in the "Catechesis" of Cyril of Jerusalem (347)f421 contains the same implication; we are told that the candidates, after having confessed their faith, "dipped themselves thrice in the water, and thrice lifted themselves up from out thereof." The same may be said of the West Gothic rite for blessing the font: "God who didst sanctify the fount of Jordan for the salvation of souls, let the angel of thy blessing descend upon these waters, that thy servants being bathed (perfusi) therewith,"f422 etc.; and in general of the occasional use of perfusus as a designation of the catechumen.f423 Perhaps, however, the exact nature of the literary evidence and the precision with which it falls in with this conception of the mode of ancient baptism, may be best exhibited by the adduction of a single passage, extended enough to convey the writer's point of view. We select somewhat at random the following account of baptism by Gregory of Nyssa:

But the descent into the water, and the trine immersion of the person in it, involves another mystery… Everything that is affected by death has its proper and natural place, and that is the earth in which it is laid and hidden. Now earth and water have much mutual affinity… Seeing, then, [that] the death of the Author of our life subjected Him to burial in earth… the imitation which we enact of that death is expressed in the neighboring element. And as He, that Man from above, having taken deadness on Himself, after His being deposited in the earth, returned back to life the third day, so every one who is knitted to Him by virtue of His bodily form, looking forward to the same successful issue, I mean this arriving at life by having, instead of earth, water poured on him (ejpiceo>menov), and so submitting to that element, has represented for him in the three movements the three-days-delayed grace of the resurrection… But since, as has been said, we only so far imitate the transcendent Power as the poverty of our nature is capable of, by having the water thrice poured on us (to< u[dwr tri<v eJpicea>menoi) and ascending again up from the water, we enact that saving burial and resurrection which took place on the third day, with this thought in our mind, that as we have power over the water both to be in it and to arise out of it, so He too, Who has the universe at His sovereign disposal, immersed Himself in death, as we in the water, to return to His own blessedness.

Does it not look as if baptism was to Gregory very much what it is depicted on the monuments — an immersion completed by pouring?

We may, then, probably, assume that normal patristic baptism was by a trine immersion upon a standing catechumen, and that this immersion was completed either by lowering the candidate's head beneath the water, or (possibly more commonly) by raising the water over his head and pouring it upon it. Additional support for this assumption may be drawn from another characteristic of the patristic allusions to baptism. It is perfectly clear that baptism was looked upon by the Fathers — however much other symbolisms attached themselves to it — primarily as a bath. It is not necessary to multiply passages in support of so obvious a broposition. One of the favorite designations of baptism was "the bath," and the Greeks delighted in the paronomasia which brought together the two words loutro>n and lu>tron,. It will suffice here to cite a few passages from Tertullian, merely by way of examples of what could be copiously adduced from the whole series of the Fathers: "Since we are defiled by sin," he says,f426 "as it were by dirt, we should be washed from those stains by water." "We enter then the laver once, — once our sins are washed away, because they ought never to be repeated. But the Jewish Israel bathes daily, because he is daily being defiled; and for fear that defilement should be practiced among us also, therefore was the definition concerning the one bathing made. Happy water, which once washes away; which does not mock sinners; which does not, being infected with the repetition of impurities, again defile them whom it has washed."f427 Our hands "are clean enough, which together with our whole body we once washed in Christ. Albeit Israel washed daily all his limbs over, yet he is never clean."f428 In the divers "washings" of the heathen, he tells us, they "cheat themselves with widowed waters," that is, with mere water, without the accompanying power of the Holy Ghostf429 "Moreover," he continues, "by carrying water around and sprinkling it, they everywhere expiate country seats, houses, temples, and whole cities; at all events, at the Apollinarian and Eleusinian games they are baptized; and they presume that the effect of their doing that is their regeneration, and the remission of the penalties due to their perjuries. Among the ancients again, whoever had defiled himself with murder, was wont to go in quest of purifying waters. Therefore, if the mere nature of water, in that it is the appropriate material for washing away, leads men to flatter themselves with a belief in omens of purification, how much more truly will waters render that service, through the authority of God, by whom all their nature has been constituted!" For Tertullian, thus, the analogues of baptism were to be found in the Jewish lustrations and the heathen rites of cleansing; and so fundamental is this conception of baptism to him, that it takes precedence of every other; though these rites were performed by sprinkling they yet remain rites of the same class with baptism.

This primary conception of baptism as a cleansing bath, seems to find an odd illustration in the form of the early Christian baptisteries. When separate edifices were erected for baptism their models appear to have been drawn from the classic baths. "When the first baptisteries were built," writes Mark G. Baldwin Brown,"we have no means of knowing; but both their name and form seem borrowed from pagan sources. They remind us at once of the bathing apartments in the Thermæ, and the fact that Pliny, in speaking of the latter, twice uses the word baptisteria, seems to point to this derivation." If this is true, the Baptistery is emphatically the Christian "Bath-house." Lindsayf431 adds some congruous details as to the font itself. "The Font," he writes, "is placed in the centre of the building, directly underneath the cupola; in the earliest examples, as in the baptistery adjoining the Lateran, it consists of a shallow octagonal basin, descended into by three steps, precisely similar to the pagan bath ¾ in later instances it has more resemblance to an elevated reservoir,The figure of the octagon was peculiarly insisted on; even when the baptistery itself is round, the cupola is generally octagonal, and the font almost always so. This may have been, in the first instance, mere imitation of the pagan baths, in which the octagon constantly occurs… "Having obtained their models of the baptistery from the surrounding heathendom, it may possibly be that the early Christians the more readily leaned toward completing their symbolical bath by pouring, that that was one of the common modes of bathing among the ancients — as appears for example in Ovid's description of Diana's bath, "when her attendants 'urnis capacibus undam effundunt .'" f433 But we are bound to remember in this connection that the early representations of baptism do not seem to borrow at all from heathen representations of their purificatory rites,f434 but exhibit, as Strzygowski points out, entire independence in treating their subject, although borrowing, of course, the forms of the antique.

The crowning indication, however, that we have found the true form of early Christian baptism in a rite performed on an erect recipient, standing in water, and completed indifferently by sinking the head beneath the water or raising the water above the head, is supplied by the fact that, on assuming this as the early practice, we may naturally account for the various developments of later practice. In such a rite as this, both later immersion and affusion can find a natural starting-point; while the assumption of either a pure immersion or a pure affusion as a starting-point will render it exceedingly difficult to account for

the rise and wide extension of the other mode. To point to the growing influence of the symbolism of death and resurrection with

Christ attached to baptism, as making for a rite by immersion, or to the lax extension of clinic aspersion as making for a rite by

affusion,f435 will no doubt help us to understand the development of either practice; but only on the assumption of a starting-

point for the assumed developments such as the mode now under consideration supplies. Nor need we confine ourselves to the broad developments of the rite. The assumption of the mode suggested will account also for numerous minor elements in the later rites. It will account, for example, for the insistence still made throughout the East upon holding even the infant erect in the act of baptism. Indeed, on assuming this to have been early Christian baptism over a wide extent of territory, numerous peculiarities of Oriental services at once exhibit themselves as survivals of earlier practice. In this category belong, for instance, the Nestorian usage of thrice dipping the head of an already partially submerged candidate; the various mixtures of the two rites among the Copts and Armenians; the preservation of a partial immersion and trine affusion among the Syrians, and the like. When we add to the explanation of the apparent conflict between the early literary and monumental evidence which the assumption of this mode of baptism offers, the further explanation which it supplies of later developments in the rite, it would seem that we had discovered in it the actual form in which early Christians were accustomed to celebrate the initiatory rite of their religion. Whether this early mode of baptism ¾ underlying, as it would seem, all the notices and practices which have come down to us —

represents truly the original mode of baptism as handed down to the Church by the apostles, requires further consideration. Our

earliest literary and monumental evidence alike comes from the second century. The frescoes in the catacombs of Praetextatus and Callistus date from the end of the second century or the opening of the third — the age of Tertullian, who is probably the earliest Latin writer to whom we can appeal as a witness to the prevalent mode of baptism. In the East the evidence runs back a little further. The account of baptism given by Justin Martyr, indeed, scarcely conveys clear information as to the mode of its administration. The candidates, he tells us,"are conducted to a place where there is water, and they are regenerated ajnagennw~ntai) after the same manner of regeneration as that in which we ourselves were regenerated. For they then make their

ablution (to< loutro<n poiou~ntai) in the water, in the name of God the Father and Lord of the universe, and of our Saviour Jesus

Christ, and of the Holy Ghost." This defect is now supplied by "The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles," which, however, may in this

part be little if any older than Justin. Its directions for baptismf437 run thus: "Now concerning baptism, baptize thus: Having

first taught all these things, baptize ye into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, in living water. And

if thou has not living water, baptize into other water; and if thou has not cold, then in warm. But if thou has neither, pour water thrice upon the head in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." It is certain, therefore, that by the middle of the second century some such mode of baptism as we have suggested — a form of immersion though not without allowance of a simple affusion in case of need — was practised in the Church. We may even be bold enough to say that at this date some such mode was probably the practice of the Church. This evidence, of course, has a retrospective value. What was the practice of the Church a decade or so before the middle of the second century was probably the usage also of a somewhat earlier day. But we must be chary of pursuing such a presumption too far. Christian institutions in the middle of the second century, and much more at its end, were not the unaltered institutions of the apostolic age. The bishop, for example, was already a different officer from what he was in the days when the New Testament was writing; and the Epistle of Clement of Rome witnesses to quite another church system from that which was in operation in the days of Irenæus. The "Teaching" itself, in other items of church order, brings before us a later stage of Christian life and practice than the first. The second century, in a word, marks a considerable advance on the first in the development of church usages; and it is necessary to exercise great caution in assuming what we find to be the practice of this century to be also apostolic, merely because it represents the earliest usage which we can trace.

In these circumstances we shall welcome any further line of investigation which promises to throw light on our problem, and turn

therefore with some interest to inquire after the relation of Christian baptism to what is known as proselyte-baptism or the

rabbinical custom of initiating proselytes into the Jewish faith by a formal and complete ablution. In this, many scholars find the original of Christian baptism, thus tracing the genealogy of the latter through the baptism of John to a well-understood and commonly practised Jewish ritual. It is argued that there is no evidence from the New Testament notices that Christ was instituting a rite that was new in the sense that its form or mode was a novelty; or that when John called on the people to come to his baptism, he needed to stop and explain to them what this "baptism" was and how they were to do it. On the contrary, it appears that Christ and John expected to be thoroughly understood from the beginning, and only implanted a new significance in an old rite, now adapted to a new use. But what could have been the older rite on which baptism was based, it is asked, except the proselyte-baptism which we find in the next age the established practice of the Jews? If, however, Johannic and Christian baptism were thus adopted, so far as the form of the rite is concerned, from proselyte-baptism, a means is opened to us for discovering how baptism was administered in the first age of the Church which no one can venture to neglect. If we can determine the mode of baptism in proselyte-baptism, we raise a strong presumption that it was in this mode also that our Lord and His apostles baptized. The path thus pointed out is certainly sufficiently hopeful to justify our exploring it."

It is scarcely possible to overstate the importance which the rabbis attached to baptism, in the reception of proselytes. It was

held to be absolutely necessary to the making of a proselyte; and though Rabbi Eliezer maintained that circumcision without

baptism sufficed, Rabbi Joshua on the other hand contended that baptism without circumcision was enough, while the scribes decided

that both rites were necessary. One might indeed become in some sort a proselyte without baptism; but though he were circumcised,

he remained ywG until he was baptized, and children begotten in the interval would still be µyrwmm, spurii. If he would become a "proselyte of righteousness," "a child of the covenant," a "perfect Israelite," he must be both circumcised and baptized. The regulations required that those purposing thus becoming Jews should first be fully instructed in what it was to be a Jew and what the step they were contemplating meant for them. When the time came for their admission into the number of the covenant people, three things entered into the initiatory rite: circumcision, hl;ymi; baptism, hl;ybif]; and sacrifice, ˆB;r]q;. Baptism was delayed after circumcision until the wound was healed, and meanwhile the instruction continued. When the day for it arrived, the proselyte, in the presence of the three teachers who had also witnessed his circumcision and who now served as witnesses of the baptism under the name of "fathers of the baptized," corresponding to the nature of the baptism as a "new birth," cut his hair and nails, undressed completely, and entered the water until his arms were covered. The commandments were now read to him, and, solemnly engaging to obey them, he perfected the baptism by completely immersing himself. The completeness of the immersion was of such importance that "a ring on the finger, a band confining the hair, or anything that in the least degree broke the continuity of contact with the water, was held to invalidate the act."f439 There remained now only the offering of the sacrifice, and when thus "blood was spilt" for him, the proselyte had ceased to be in any sense a heathen. In his baptism, he had been "born anew," and he came forth from the water "a new man," "a little child just born," "a child of one day." So entirely had his old self ceased, that it was held that all his old relations had passed away, the natural laws of inheritance had failed, and even those of kinship, so that it was even declared that, except for bringing proselytism into contempt among the ununderstanding, a proselyte might marry without fault even his own natural mother or sister.

We cannot fail to see at a glance close similarities between this rite as described in the Gemara and the rite of Christian

baptism as contemporaneously administered. There is in both the instruction of the candidate both before and while in the font,

the godfathers, the immersion, completed in some cases at least by self-baptism,f441 and the effect of baptism as issuing in a new

creature. It is very difficult to believe that neither rite owed anything to the other. But the discovery of connection between

the two rites is no immediate proof that one owes its existence to the other. It might be a priori possible, indeed, that the

Jewish rite was borrowed from the Christian or that the Christian was based upon the Jewish. And we may judge the similarity too

close to admit the likelihood of their being of wholly independent origin — despite the obviousness of a cleansing washing as a

rite of initiation and its widespread, independent use as such among pagan religions. Yet the intermediate alternative remains

that both rites may have had their roots independently fixed in a common origin, while their detailed similarities were the result

of a gradual and only semi- conscious assimilation taking place between similar contemporary rites through a long period, during

which each borrowed something from the other.

We will probably agree at once that it is very unlikely that the Jews directly borrowed their proselyte-baptism from the Christians, or even from John the Baptist, as has been maintained- the latter by Börner

and others, and the former by De Wette and others. So immediate a borrowing of so solemn a rite is incredible, when we bear in mind the sharp antagonism which the Jews cherished towards the Christians during this period.f442 Whether, on the other hand, the Jewish rite may not have lain at the basis of the Christian rite requires more consideration. Our decision in the matter will probably depend on an answer to the stubbornly mooted question whether the Jewish ceremony of proselyte-baptism existed when Christian baptism was instituted. The evidence which we have drawn upon for the description of it comes from the rabbinical literature, beginning with the Gemara. Whether this evidence, however, is valid for a period before the

destruction of the Temple admits of very serious question. Professor Schürer has recently argued very strenuously for the

existence of the Jewish rite in the time of Christ.f443 On comparison of the actual evidence adduced by him, however, with that

dealt with, say, by Winer in his "Realwörterbuch" — where the opposite conclusion is reached — it does not appear that it has been substantially increased in the interval. The stress of Schürer's argument is laid not on these items of direct testimony — which all come to us from the second century and later — but on general considerations derived from the nature of the case. We require only a slight knowledge of Pharisaic Judaism in the time of Christ, reasons Schürer, to realize how often even a native Jew was compelled by the law to submit to ceremonial washings. Tertullian justly says, "A Jew washes daily, because he is daily defiled." A heathen was, thus, self-evidently unclean and could not possibly have been admitted into the congregation without having subjected himself to a Levitical "washing of baptism." Whatever special testimonies exist to the fact of such a requirement, they are scarcely necessary to support so conclusive a general consideration; against which, moreover, the silence of Philo and Josephus cannot avail, nor the somewhat unintelligible distinction which it is sought to erect between Levitical washings and proselyte-baptism technically so called. Winer on the other hand lays stress on the lateness of the direct testimony to the existence of proselyte-baptism and the silence of Josephus, Philo, and the oldest Targumists, while nevertheless allowing that the proselyte was, of course, compelled to submit himself to a lustration. He only denies that this lustration had already in the time of Christ become fixed, in the case of the proselyte, as no longer an ordinary lustration for the sake of ceremonial cleansing, but a special, initiatory rite, with its time, circumstances, and ritual already developed into what is subsequently known as proselyte-baptism. He thus fully answers in advance Schürer's question of wherein proselyte-baptism differs from ordinary cleansing lustration. In essence and origin, doubtless, in nothing; but very widely when considered as a ritual ceremony with its fixed laws, constituting a part, and in the minds of many the chief part, of the initiation into Judaism.

In these few words we have already hinted what seems to us the reasonable view to take of the matter. The facts seem to be that

direct testimony to the existence of proselyte-baptism fails us in the midst of the second century after Christ, but that

nevertheless something of the nature of a cleansing bath must be presupposed from the very beginning as a part of the reception of

the proselyte. Delitzsch calls attention to a point which appears to be of importance for understanding the origin of the rite,

when he adverts to the connection of this bath with the sacrifice, so that its prescription must date from a time previous to the

cessation of the sacrifices. "Its origin also in itself," he remarks.f444 "presupposes the existence of the Temple, and the cleansings required by its sacrificial services, which were performed by plunge- baths; post-biblical legal language uses the word lbf (cf. <120514>2 Kings 5:14, LXX ejbapti>sato) for these cleansings, while the Pentateuchal Priest-code uses for them the older and vaguer term µymb wrçb xjr (e.g. <031505>Leviticus 15:5, 6, etc.). Beyond doubt cleansing by means of a plunge-bath was already from a very early time demanded of the heathen, after he had been circumcised, as a precondition of his participation in the sacrificial services. We see this from the Jerusalem Targum on Exod. 12:44, according to which the purchased heathen slave, in order to take part in the passover, must not only be circumcised but also receive a plunge-bath. This is also presupposed in the Mishna (Pesachim 8:8) as an existing institution, and it is only debated whether the heathen belongs to the class of the simply unclean, who through the plunge-bath became clean by the evening of the same day, or to the class of the unclean-from-a-dead-body whose uncleanness lasted seven days (cf.<031505>Leviticus 15:5, 13)." These fruitful remarks seem to us to uncover the origin of proselyte-baptism in a twofold sense. They point us back to the time when it originated;f445 but in doing so they point us also back to the thing out of which it originated. Witness to it as an important element in the rite of initiation fails, as we ascend the stream of time, in the midst of the second century: nevertheless, it presupposes the sacrifice, a preparation for which it essentially is; and therefore it must have existed in this form and meaning before the destruction of the Temple. It was on the other hand, however, only after the cessation of the sacrifices that it could become an independent element of the rite of initiation: for this, it must have first lost its reference to sacrifice and have acquired a new meaning as a symbolical "new birth." In other words, in the rite of proselyte-baptism, properly so called, we see the result of a development — a development which requires the assumption of its existence before the Temple services ceased in order that we may understand its origin, but which equally requires the assumption that the Temple services had long ceased, in order that we may understand its existing nature as witnessed to in the rabbinical writings. It could not have come into being except as the prerequisite to sacrifice; it could not have grown into its full form until its original relation to sacrifice had been partially obscured in the course of time.f446 Although we must discern its roots set in a time before the destruction of the Temple, therefore, we cannot carry the full-grown plant back into that period. It was apparently a growth of the second century after Christ; what existed in the first century, and in the time of Christ and John, was not this elaborate and independent initiatory rite, but a simple lustration not distinguishable and not distinguished from other lustrations. If, then, we are to seek a point of departure for the rite of Christian baptism in Jewish custom, we cannot find it in the developed rite of proselyte-baptism.

Proselyte-baptism and Christian baptism appear rather as parallel growths from a common root. At the base of both alike lie the

cleansing lustrations of the Jewish law. It was these, knowledge of which the Baptist counted upon when he came proclaiming his

"baptism." This is indeed evident, independently of what has been urged here.f447 "The baptism of John and proselyte-baptism,"

says Delitzsch with great justice, "stand only in indirect relation to one another, in so far as one and the same idea underlies

both kinds of baptism as well as the legal lustrations in general, — the idea of the passage from a condition of moral uncleanness to a condition of purity from sin and guilt… There is no reason to assume that the baptism of John or Christian baptism originated in proselyte-baptism, or even that it derived only its form from it. It was, moreover, unlike the economy of God, to build upon a Pharisaic usage and not rather upon an ancient symbol, already sanctified by the giving of the Law on Sinai. John himself assigns the choice of this symbolical rite to divine appointment (<430133>John 1:33)… Johannic and Christian baptism have, however, in conformity with the nature of the New Covenant as a fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets (<400517>Matthew 5:17), over and above their connection with the Law and the Levitical lustrations in general as prescribed in it, also another point of connection in prophecy, in the prediction of a future purification and sanctification through water and the Spirit (<263625>Ezekiel 36:25; 27:23f.; <234403>Isaiah 44:3; <381301>Zechariah 13:1)." This cuts to the root of the matter. Christian baptism was not such a new thing that it could not be understood by the disciples

to whom it was committed. It had its very close connection with precedent and well-known rites. But its connection was not

specifically with proselyte-baptism as subsequently developed into a formal rite of initiation into Judaism; but with the

cleansing lustrations from which that in common with this sprung, and with the prophetical predictions of Messianic cleansing.

The bearing of this conclusion upon the hope that we might learn something of value as to the mode of primitive Christian baptism

from the mode in which proselyte- baptism was administered, is obvious. If proselyte-baptism, as known to us with its established

ritual, is of second century growth, while the roots of Christian baptism are set, not in it, but in the divinely prescribed

lustrations and prophetic announcements of the Old Testament, we are left without ground from this quarter for any stringent

inferences as to the mode of the first administration of Christian baptism. The idea of the lustrations was bathing for the sake

of cleansing; and the "many baptisms" of the Jews were performed in more modes of application of the water than one. The prophetic announcements in like manner run through all possible modes of applying the water. In any mode of application, it was complete cleansing which was symbolized. Beyond that, it would seem, we cannot proceed on this pathway.

Our archaeological inquiry as to the mode of Christian baptism leaves us hanging, then, in the middle of the second century. What

Christian baptism was like at that point of time we can form a tolerably clear notion of. It was a cleansing bath, usually

performed by a form of trine immersion. Exceptions were freely allowed whenever dictated by scarcity of water or illness on the

part of the recipient. And the usual mode of administration, certainly at Rome and probably also elsewhere, appears to have beenby pouring water on the head of a candidate standing in a greater or less depth of water. A fair presumption may hold that this rite, common in the middle of the second century, represents more or less fully the primitive rite. But we dare not press this presumption very far. Take, for example, the two points of trine baptism and immersion. Are not both in the line of a natural development? Would there not be reason enough for the rise of a threefold ritual in the Christian Church in the fact that they baptized in the Triune name and that the Jews baptized by a single immersion; just as the Catholics in Spain found ground at a later period for baptizing by a single immersion in the fact that the Arians baptized by a trine immersion?

Would there not be reason enough for a gradual growth of the rite to a full immersion in the fact that that form of baptism would seem more completely to symbolize total cleansing, was consonant with the conception framed of the river baptism of John, of which our Lord Himself partook, and seemed vividly to represent also that death and resurrection with Christ suggested in certain passages of the New Testament? All the materials certainly existed for the development of such a form of baptism as meets us in the second century, from any beginning which would give the slightest starting- point for such a development. Such being the case, we appear to be forbidden to assume that second century baptism any more certainly reproduces for us primitive Christian baptism, than the second century eucharist reproduces for us the primitive Lord's Supper or the second century church organization the primitive bishop- presbyter. Where, then, it may be asked, are we to go for knowledge of really primitive baptism? If the archaeology of the rite supplies ground for no very safe inference, where can we obtain satisfactory guidance? Apparently only from the New Testament itself. We are seemingly shut up to the hints and implications of the sacred pages for trustworthy information here. But the conclusion to which these hints and implications would conduct us, it is not the purpose of this article even to suggest.

The Polemics of Infant Baptism1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

The question of the Subjects of Baptism is one of that class of problems the solution of which hangs upon a previous question. According as is our doctrine of the Church, so will be our doctrine of the Subjects of Baptism. If we believe, with the Church of Rome, that the Church is in such a sense the institute of salvation that none are united to Christ save through the instrumentality of her ordinances, then we shall inevitably determine the proper subjects of her ordinances in one way. If, on the other hand, we believe, with the Protestant bodies, that only those already united to Christ have right within His house and to its privileges, we shall inevitably determine them in another way. All Protestants should easily agree that only Christ's children have a right to the ordinance of baptism. The cleavage in their ranks enters in only when we inquire how the external Church is to hold itself relatively to the recognition of the children of Christ. If we say that its attitude should be as exclusive as possible, and that it must receive as the children of Christ only those whom it is forced to recognize as such, then we shall inevitably narrow the circle of the subjects of baptism to the lowest limits. If, on the other hand, we say that its attitude should be as inclusive as possible, and that it should receive as the children of Christ all whom, in the judgment of charity, it may fairly recognize as such, then we shall naturally widen the circle of the subjects of baptism to far more ample limits. The former represents, broadly speaking, the Puritan idea of the Church, the latter the general Protestant doctrine. It is on the basis of the Puritan conception of the Church that the Baptists are led to exclude infants from baptism. For, if we are to demand anything like demonstrative evidence of actual participation in Christ before we baptize, no infant, who by reason of years is incapable of affording signs of his union with Christ, can be thought a proper subject of the rite.

The vice of this system, however, is that it attempts the impossible. No man can read the heart. As a consequence, it follows that no one, however rich his manifestation of Christian graces, is baptized on the basis of infallible knowledge of his relation to Christ. All baptism is inevitably administered on the basis not of knowledge but of presumption. And if we must baptize on presumption, the whole principle is yielded; and it would seem that we must baptize all whom we may fairly presume to be members of Christ's body. In this state of the case, it is surely impracticable to assert that there can be but one ground on which a fair presumption of inclusion in Christ's body can be erected, namely, personal profession of faith. Assuredly a human profession is no more solid basis to build upon than a divine promise. So soon, therefore, as it is fairly apprehended that we baptize on presumption and not on knowledge, it is inevitable that we shall baptize all those for whom we may, on any grounds, fairly cherish a good presumption that they belong to God's people - and this surely includes the infant children of believers, concerning the favor of God to whom there exist many precious promises on which pious parents, Baptists as fully as others, rest in devout faith.

To this solid proof of the rightful inclusion of the infant children of believers among the subjects of baptism, is added the unavoidable implication of the continuity of the Church of God, as it is taught in the Scriptures, from its beginning to its consummation; and of the undeniable inclusion within the bounds of this Church, in its pre-Christian form, as participants of its privileges, inclusive of the parallel rite of circumcision, of the infant children of the flock, with no subsequent hint of their exclusion. To this is added further the historical evidence of the prevalence in the Christian Church of the custom of baptizing the infant children of believers, from the earliest Christian ages down to to-day. The manner in which it is dealt with by Augustine and the Pelagians in their controversy, by Cyprian in his letter to Fidus, by Tertullian in his treatise on baptism, leaves no room for doubt that it was, at the time when each of these writers wrote, as universal and unquestioned a practice among Christians at large as it is to-day - while, wherever it was objected to, the objection seems to have rested on one or the other of two contrary errors, either on an overestimate of the effects of baptism or on an underestimate of the need of salvation for infants.

On such lines as these a convincing positive argument is capable of being set forth for infant baptism, to the support of which whatever obscure allusions to it may be found in the New Testament itself may then be summoned. And on these lines the argument has ordinarily been very successfully conducted, as may be seen by consulting the treatment of the subject in any of our standard works on systematic theology, as for example Dr. Charles Hodge's.2 It has occurred to me that additional support might be brought to the conclusions thus positively attained by observing the insufficiency of the case against infant baptism as argued by the best furnished opponents of that practice. There would seem no better way to exhibit this insufficiency than to subject the presentation of the arguments against infant baptism, as set forth by some confessedly important representative of its opponents, to a running analysis. I have selected for the purpose the statement given in Dr. A. H. Strong's "Systematic Theology."3 What that eminently well-informed and judicious writer does not urge against infant baptism may well be believed to be confessedly of small comparative weight as an argument against the doctrine and practice. So that if we do not find the arguments he urges conclusive, we may well be content with the position we already occupy.

Dr. Strong opens the topic, "The Subjects of Baptism,"4 with the statement that "the proper subjects of baptism are those only who give credible evidence that they have been regenerated by the Holy Spirit, - or, in other words, have entered by faith into the communion of Christ's death and resurrection" - a statement which if, like the ordinary language of the Scriptures, it is intended to have reference only to the adults to whom it is addressed, would be sufficiently unexceptionable; but which the "only" advertises us to suspect to be more inclusive in its purpose. This statement is followed at once by the organized "proof that only persons giving evidence of being regenerated are proper subjects of baptism." This proof is derived:

(a) From the command and example of Christ and his apostles, which show: First, that those only are to be baptized who have previously been made disciples. . . . Secondly, that those only are to be baptized who have previously repented and believed. . . .

(b) From the nature of the church - as a company of regenerate persons. . . .

(c) From the symbolism of the ordinance - as declaring a previous spiritual change in him who submits to it.

Each of these items is supported by Scripture texts, though some of them are no doubt sufficiently inapposite. As, for example, when only John iii. 5 and Rom. vi. 13 - neither of which has anything to do with the visible Church - are quoted to prove that the visible Church (of which baptism is an ordinance) is "a company of regenerate persons"; or as when Matt. xxviii. 19 is quoted to prove that baptism took place after the discipling, as if the words ran maqhteu,santej bapti,zete, whereas the passage, actually standing maqhteu/sate bapti,zontej, merely demands that the discipling shall be consummated in, shall be performed by means of baptism; or as when Acts x. 47, where the fact that the extraordinary power of the Holy Spirit had come upon Cornelius is pleaded as reason why baptism should not be withheld from him,5 and Rom, vi. 2-5, which only develops the spiritual implication of baptism, are made to serve as proofs that the symbolism of the ordinance declares always and constantly a "previous" spiritual change. Apart from the Scriptural evidence actually brought forward, moreover, the propositions, in the extreme form in which they are stated, cannot be supported by Scripture. The Scriptures do not teach that the external Church is a company of regenerate persons - the parable of the tares for example declares the opposite: though they represent that Church as the company of those who are presumably regenerate. They do not declare that baptism demonstrates a "previous" change - the case of Simon Magus, Acts viii. 13, is enough to exhibit the contrary: though they represent the rite as symbolical of the inner cleansing presumed to be already present, and consequently as administered only on profession of faith.

The main difficulty with Dr. Strong's argument, however, is the illegitimate use it makes of the occasional character of the New Testament declarations. He is writing a "Systematic Theology" and is therefore striving to embrace the whole truth in his statements: he says therefore with conscious reference to infants, whose case he is soon to treat, "Those only are to be baptized who have previously repented and believed," and the like. But the passages he quotes in support of this position are not drawn from a "Systematic Theology" but from direct practical appeals to quite definite audiences, consisting only of adults; or from narratives of what took place as the result of such appeals. Because Peter told the men that stood about him at Pentecost, "Repent ye and be baptized," it does not follow that baptism might not have been administered by the same Peter to the infants of those repentant sinners previous to the infants' own repentance. Because Philip baptized the converts of Samaria only after they had believed, it does not follow that he would not baptize their infants until they had grown old enough to repeat their parents' faith, that they might, like them, receive its sign.

The assertion contained in the first proof is, therefore, a non sequitur from the texts offered in support of it. There is a suppressed premise necessary to be supplied before the assumed conclusion follows from them, and that premise is that the visible Church consists of believers only without inclusion of their children - that Peter meant nothing on that day of Pentecost when he added to the words which Dr. Strong quotes: "Repent ye and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ unto the remission of your sins" - those other words which Dr. Strong does not quote: "For to you is the promise and to your children" (Acts ii. 38, 39). This suppressed premise Dr. Strong adjoins in the second item of proof which he adduces; but we must observe that it is not a second item; but a necessary element in the first item which without it is invalid. In a word, when we correct the Scripture he adduces and the illegitimate use he makes of Scripture, Dr. Strong's whole argument reduces to the one item of the "nature of the Church, as a company of regenerate persons." It is only on the ground that this is the true idea of the Church that the passages quoted to prove that baptism is to be administered "only" to such as have previously repented and believed, and those quoted to prove that the symbolism of the ordinance declares a "previous" spiritual change in him who submits to it, will justify the "only" and "previous" in which lies their point. The validity of the proof he offers thus depends on the truth of the assertion that the Church consists of regenerate persons; and whether this be true or not we need not here stay to examine: certainly the texts he adduces in proof of it, as already intimated, make no approach to establishing it. We rest securely in the result that according to Dr. Strong's argument as well as our own conviction, the subjects of baptism are the members of the visible Church: and who those are, will certainly be determined by our theory of the nature of the Church.

A page or two further on6 he takes up the question of "Infant Baptism" ex professo. This "we reject and reprehend," he tells us, and that for the following reasons, viz.:

(a) Infant baptism is without warrant, either express or implied, in the Scripture....

(b) Infant baptism is expressly contradicted [by Scriptural teaching]. . . .

(c) The rise of infant baptism in the history of the church is due to sacramental conceptions of Christianity, so that all arguments in its favor from the writings of the first three centuries are equally arguments for baptismal regeneration. . . .

(d) The reasoning by which it is supported is unscriptural, unsound, and dangerous in its tendency. . . .

(e) The lack of agreement among pedobaptists as to the warrant for infant baptism and as to the relation of baptized infants to the church, together with the manifest decline of the practice itself, are arguments against it. . . .

(f) The evil effects of infant baptism are a strong argument against it.

Here is quite a list of arguments. We must look at the items one by one.

(a) When we ask after a direct Scriptural warrant for infant baptism, in the sense which Dr. Strong has in mind in the first of these arguments, we, of course, have the New Testament in view, seeing that it is only in the new dispensation that this rite has been ordained. In this sense of the words, we may admit his first declaration - that there is no express command that infants should be baptized; and with it also his second - that there is in Scripture no clear example of the baptism of infants, that is, if we understand by this that there is no express record, reciting in so many words, that infants were baptized. When he adds to these, however, a third contention, that "the passages held to imply infant baptism contain, when fairly interpreted, no reference to such a practice," we begin to recalcitrate. If it were only asserted that these passages contain no such stringent proof that infants were baptized as would satisfy us on the point in the absence of other evidence, we might yield this point also. But it is too much to ask us to believe that they contain "no reference to the practice" if "fairly interpreted." What is a "fair" interpretation? Is it not an interpretation which takes the passages as they stand, without desire to make undue capital of them one way or the other? Well, a fair interpretation of these passages, in this sense, might prevent paedobaptists from claiming them as a demonstrative proof of infant baptism, and it would also certainly prevent anti-paedobaptists from asserting that they have "no reference to such a practice." It should lead both parties to agree that the passages have a possible but not a necessary reference to infant baptism - that they are neutral passages, in a word, which apparently imply infant baptism, but which may be explained without involving that implication if we otherwise know that infant baptism did not exist in that day. Fairly viewed, in other words, they are passages which will support any other indications of infant baptism which may be brought forward, but which will scarcely suffice to prove it against evidence to the contrary, or to do more than raise a presumption in its favor in the absence of other evidence for it. For what are these passages? The important ones are Acts xvi. 15, which declares that Lydia was "baptized and her household," and Acts xvi. 33, which declares that the jailer was "baptized and all his," together with I Cor. i. 16, "And I baptized also the household of Stephanas." Certainly at first blush we would think that the repeated baptism of households without further description, would imply the baptism of the infants connected with them. It may be a "fair" response to this that we do not know that there were any infants in these households - which is true enough, but not sufficient to remove the suspicion that there may have been. It may be a still "fairer" reply to say that whether the infants of these families (if there were infants in them) were baptized or not, would depend on the practice of the apostles; and whatever that practice was would be readily understood by the first readers of the Acts. But this would only amount to asking that infant baptism should not be founded solely on these passages alone; and this we have already granted.

Neither of these lines of argument is adduced by Dr. Strong. They would not justify his position - which is not that the baptism of infants cannot be proved by these passages, but much more than this - that a fair interpretation of them definitely excludes all reference to it by them. Let us see what Dr. Strong means by a "fair" interpretation. To the case of Lydia he appends "cf. 40," which tells us when Paul and Silas were loosed from prison "they entered into the house of Lydia, and when they had seen the brethren they comforted them and departed" - from which, apparently, he would have us make two inferences, (1) that these "brethren" constituted the household of Lydia that was baptized, and (2) that these "brethren" were all adults. In like manner to the case of the jailer he appends the mystic "cf. 34," which tells us that the saved jailer brought his former prisoners up into his house and set meat before them and "rejoiced greatly, having believed, with all his house, on God" - from which he would apparently have us infer that there was no member of the household, baptized by Paul, who was too young to exercise personal faith. So he says with reference to I Cor. i. 16, that "I Cor. xvi. 15 shows that the whole family of Stephanas, baptized by Paul, were adults." Nevertheless, when we look at I Cor. xvi. 15, we read merely that the house of Stephanas were the first fruits of Achaia and that they had set themselves to minister unto the saints - which leaves the question whether they are all adults or not just where it was before, that is, absolutely undetermined.

Nor is this all. To these passages Dr. Strong appends two others, one properly enough, I Cor. vii. 14, where Paul admonishes the Christian not to desert the unbelieving husband or wife, "for the unbelieving husband is sanctified in the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified in the brother; else were your children unclean; but now are they holy." This is doubtless a passage similar to the others; a passage certainly which does not explicitly teach infant baptism, but equally certainly which is not inconsistent with it - which would, indeed, find a ready explanation from such a custom if such a custom existed, and therefore stands as one of the passages which raise at least a suspicion that infant baptism underlies the form of expression - since the holiness of the children is taken for granted in it and the sanctification of the unbelieving partner inferred from it - but is yet no doubt capable of an explanation on the supposition that that practice did not exist and is therefore scarcely a sure foundation for a doctrine asserting it. Dr. Strong is, however, not satisfied with showing that no stringent inference can be drawn from it in favor of infant baptism. He claims it as a "sure testimony," a "plain proof" against infant baptism, on the grounds that the infants and the unbelieving parent are put by it in the same category, and (quoting Jacobi) that if children had been baptized, Paul would certainly have referred to their baptism as a proof of their holiness. And this in the face of the obvious fact that the holiness of the children is assumed as beyond dispute and in no need of proof, doubt as to which would be too horrible to contemplate, and the sanctification of the husband or wife inferred from it. Of course, it is the sanctity or holiness of external connection and privilege that is referred to, both with reference to the children and the parent; but that of the one is taken for granted, that of the other is argued; hence it lies close to infer that the one may have had churchly recognition and the other not. Whether that was true or not, however, the passage cannot positively decide for us; it only raises a suspicion. But this suspicion ought to be frankly recognized.

The other passage which is adjoined to these is strangely found in their company, although it, too, is one of the "neutral texts." It is Matt. xix. 14: "Suffer the little children and forbid them not to come unto me; for to such belongeth the kingdom of heaven." What has this to do with baptism? Certainly nothing directly; only if it be held indirectly to show that infants were received by Christ as members of His Kingdom on earth, that is, of His Church, can it bear on the controversy. But notice Dr. Strong's comment: "None would have 'forbidden,' if Jesus and his disciples had been in the habit of baptizing infants." Does he really think this touches the matter that is raised by this quotation? Nobody supposes that "Jesus and his disciples" were in the habit of baptizing infants; nobody supposes that at the time these words were spoken, Christian baptism had been so much as yet instituted. Dr. Strong would have to show, not that infant baptism was not practised before baptism was instituted, but that the children were not designated by Christ as members of His "Kingdom," before the presumption for infant baptism would be extruded from this text. It is his unmeasured zeal to make all texts which have been appealed to by paedobaptists - not merely fail to teach paedobaptism - but teach that children were not baptized, that has led him so far astray here.

We cannot profess to admire, then, the "fair" interpretations which Dr. Strong makes of these texts. No one starting out without a foregone conclusion could venture to say that, when "fairly interpreted," they certainly make no reference to baptism of infants. Nevertheless, I freely allow that they do not suffice, taken by themselves, to prove that infants were baptized by the apostles - they only suggest this supposition and raise a presumption for it. And, therefore, I am prepared to allow in general the validity of Dr. Strong's first argument - when thus softened to reasonable proportions. It is true that there is no express command to baptize infants in the New Testament, no express record of the baptism of infants, and no passages so stringently implying it that we must infer from them that infants were baptized. If such warrant as this were necessary to justify the usage we should have to leave it incompletely justified. But the lack of this express warrant is something far short of forbidding the rite; and if the continuity of the Church through all ages can be made good, the warrant for infant baptism is not to be sought in the New Testament but in the Old Testament, when the Church was instituted, and nothing short of an actual forbidding of it in the New Testament would warrant our omitting it now. As Lightfoot expressed it long ago, "It is not forbidden" in the New Testament to "baptize infants, - therefore, they are to be baptized."7 Dr. Strong commits his first logical error in demanding express warrant for the continuance of a longsettled institution, instead of asking for warrant for setting it aside.

(b) If thus the first argument is irrelevant as a whole as well as not very judiciously put in its details, is not its failure well atoned for in the second one? His second argument undertakes to show that "infant baptism is expressly contradicted" by Scriptural teaching. Here, at length, we have the promise of what was needed. But if we expect stringent reason here for the alteration of the children-including covenant, we shall be sadly disappointed. Dr. Strong offers four items. First, infant baptism is contradicted "by the Scriptural prerequisites of faith and repentance, as signs of regeneration," which is valid only on the suppressed assumption that baptism is permissible only in the case of those who prove a previous regeneration - which is the very point in dispute. Secondly, "by the Scriptural symbolism of the ordinance." "As we should not bury a person before his death, so we should not symbolically bury a person by baptism until he has in spirit died to sin." Here not only that the symbolism of baptism is burial is gratuitously assumed, but also that this act, whatever be its symbolism, could be the symbol only of an already completed process in the heart of the recipient - which again is the very point in dispute. Thirdly, "by the Scriptural constitution of the church" - where again the whole validity of the argument depends on the assumption that infants are not members of the Church - the very point in dispute. These three arguments must therefore be thrown at once out of court. If the Scriptures teach that personal faith and repentance are prerequisites to baptism, if they teach that one must have previously died to sin before he is baptized, if they teach that the visible Church consists of regenerate adults only - why, on any of these three identical propositions, each of which implies all the others, of course infants may not be baptized - for this again is but an identical proposition with any of the three. But it is hardly sound argumentation simply to repeat the matter in dispute in other words and plead it as proof.

The fourth item is more reasonable - "By the Scriptural prerequisites for participation in the Lord's Supper. Participation in the Lord's Supper is the right only of those who can 'discern the Lord's body' (I Cor. xi. 29). No reason can be assigned for restricting to intelligent communicants the ordinance of the Supper, which would not equally restrict to intelligent believers the ordinance of Baptism." Hence Dr. Strong thinks the Greek Church more consistent in administering the Lord's Supper to infants. It seems, however, a sufficient answer to this to point to the passage quoted: the express declaration of Scripture, that those who are admitted to the Lord's Supper - a declaration made to those who were already, baptized Christians - should be restricted to those who discern the Lord's body, is a sufficient Scriptural reason for restricting participation in the Lord's Supper to intelligent communicants; while the absence of that Scripture restriction in its case is a sufficient Scriptural reason for refusing to apply it to baptism. If we must support this Scriptural reason with a purely rational one, it may be enough to add that the fact that baptism is the initiatory rite of the Church supplies us with such a reason. The ordinances of the Church belong to the members of it; but each in its own appointed time. The initiatory ordinance belongs to the members on becoming members, other ordinances become their right as the appointed seasons for enjoying them roll around. We might as well argue that a citizen of the United States has no right to the protection of the police until he can exercise the franchise. The rights all belong to him: but the exercise of each comes in its own season. It is easily seen by the help of such examples that the possession of a right to the initiatory ordinance of the Church need not carry with it the right to the immediate enjoyment of all church privileges: and thus the challenge is answered to show cause why the right to baptism does not carry with it the right to communion in the Lord's Supper.8 With this challenge the second argument of Dr. Strong is answered, too.

(c) The third argument is really an attempt to get rid of the pressure of the historical argument for infant baptism. Is it argued that the Christian Church from the earliest traceable date baptized infants? - that this is possibly hinted in Justin Martyr, assumed apparently in Irenaeus, and openly proclaimed as apostolical by Origen and Cyprian while it was vainly opposed by Tertullian? In answer it is replied that all these writers taught baptismal regeneration and that infant baptism was an invention coming in on the heels of baptismal regeneration and continued in existence by State Churches. There is much that is plausible in this contention. The early Church did come to believe that baptism was necessary to salvation; this doctrine forms a natural reason for the extension of baptism to infants, lest dying unbaptized they should fail of salvation. Nevertheless, the contention does not seem to be the true explanation of the line of development. First, it confuses a question of testimony to fact with a question of doctrine. The two - baptismal regeneration and infant baptism - do not stand or fall together, in the testimony of the Fathers. Their unconscious testimony to a current practice proves its currency in their day; but their witness to a doctrine does not prove its truth. We may or may not agree with them in their doctrine of baptismal regeneration. But we cannot doubt the truth of their testimony to the prevalence of infant baptism in their day. We admit that their day is not the apostles' day. We could well wish that we had earlier witness. We may be sure from the witness of Origen and Cyprian that they were baptized in their infancy - that is, that infant baptism was the usual practice in the age of Irenaeus - a conclusion which is at once strengthened by and strengthens the witness of Irenaeus. But the practice of the latter half of the second century need not have been the practice of the apostles. A presumption is raised, however - even though so weak a one that it would not stand against adverse evidence. But where is the adverse evidence? Secondly, Dr. Strong's view reverses the historical testimony. As a matter of history it was not the inauguration of the practice of infant baptism which the doctrine of baptismal regeneration secured, but the endangering of it. It was because baptism washed away all sin and after that there remained no more laver for regeneration, that baptism was postponed. It is for this reason that Tertullian proposes its postponement. Lastly, though the historical evidence may not be conclusive for the apostolicity of infant baptism, it is in that direction and is all that we have. There is no evidence from primitive church history against infant baptism, except the ambiguous evidence of Tertullian; so that our choice is to follow history and baptize infants or to reconstruct by a priori methods a history for which we have no evidence.

(d) Dr. Strong's fourth item is intended as a refutal of the reasoning by which the advocates of paedobaptism support their contention. As such it naturally takes up the reasoning from every kind of sources and it is not strange that some of the reasoning adduced in it is as distasteful to us as it is to him. We should heartily unite with him in refusing to allow the existence of any power in the Church to modify or abrogate any command of Christ. Nor could we find any greater acceptability than he does in the notion of an "organic connection" between the parent and the child, such as he quotes Dr. Bushnell as advocating. Nevertheless we can believe in a parent acting as representative of the child of his loins, whose nurture is committed to him; and we can believe that the status of the parent determines the status of the child - in the Church of the God whose promise is "to you and your children," as well as, for example, in the State. And we can believe that the Church includes the minor children of its members for whom they must as parents act, without believing that it is thereby made a hereditary body. I do not purpose here to go over again the proofs, which Dr. Hodge so cogently urges, that go to prove the continuity of the Church through the Old and New dispensations - remaining under whatever change of dispensation the same Church, with the same laws of entrance and the same constituents. The antithesis which Dr. Strong adduces - that "the Christian Church is either a natural, hereditary body, or it was merely typified by the Jewish people" - is a false antithesis. The Christian Church is not a natural, hereditary body and yet it is not merely the antitype of Israel. It is, the apostles being witnesses, the veritable Israel itself. It carried over into itself all that was essentially Israelitish - all that went to make up the body of God's people. Paul's figures of the olive tree in Romans and of the breaking down of the middle wall of partition in Ephesians, suffice to demonstrate this; and besides these figures he repeatedly asserts it in the plainest language.

So fully did the first Christians - the apostles - realize the continuity of the Church, that they were more inclined to retain parts of the outward garments of the Church than to discard too much. Hence circumcision itself was retained; and for a considerable period all initiates into the Church were circumcised Jews and received baptism additionally. We do not doubt that children born into the Church during this age were both circumcised and baptized. The change from baptism superinduced upon circumcision to baptism substituted for circumcision was slow, and never came until it was forced by the actual pressure of circumstances. The instrument for making this change and so - who can doubt it? - for giving the rite of baptism its right place as the substitute for circumcision, was the Apostle Paul. We see the change formally constituted at the so-called Council of Jerusalem, in Acts xv. Paul had preached the gospel to Gentiles and had received them into the Church by baptism alone, thus recognizing it alone as the initiatory rite, in the place of circumcision, instead of treating as heretofore the two together as the initiatory rites into the Christian Church. But certain teachers from Jerusalem, coming down to Antioch, taught the brethren "except ye be circumcised after the custom of Moses ye cannot be saved." Paul took the matter before the Church of Jerusalem from which these new teachers professed to emanate; and its formal decision was that to those who believed and were baptized circumcision was not necessary.

How fully Paul believed that baptism and circumcision were but two symbols of the same change of heart, and that one was instead of the other, may be gathered from Col. ii. 11, when, speaking to a Christian audience of the Church, he declares that "in Christ ye were also circumcised " - but how? - "with a circumcision not made with hands, in putting off the body of the flesh," - that is, in the circumcision of Christ. But what was this Christ-ordained circumcision? The Apostle continues: "Having been buried with Him in baptism, wherein also ye were raised with Him through faith in the working of God, who raised Him from the dead." Hence in baptism they were buried with Christ, and this burial with Christ was the circumcision which Christ ordained, in the partaking of which they became the true circumcision. This falls little, if any, short of a direct assertion that the Christian Church is Israel, and has Israel's circumcision, though now in the form of baptism. Does the view of Paul, now, contradict the New Testament idea of the Church, or only the Baptist idea of the Church? No doubt a large number of the members of the primitive Church did insist, as Dr. Strong truly says, that those who were baptized should also be circumcised: and no doubt, this proves that in their view baptism did not take the place of circumcision. But this was an erroneous view: is represented in the New Testament as erroneous; and it is this exact view against which Paul protested to the Church of Jerusalem and which the Church of Jerusalem condemned in Acts xv. Thus the Baptist denial of the substitution of baptism for circumcision leads them into the error of this fanatical, pharisaical church-party! Let us take our places in opposition, along with Paul and all the apostles.

Whether, then, that the family is the unit of society is a relic of barbarism or not, it is the New Testament basis of the Church of God. God does make man the head of the woman - does enjoin the wife to be in subjection to her husband - and does make the parents act on behalf of their minor children. He does, indeed, require individual faith for salvation; but He organizes His people in families first; and then into churches, recognizing in their very warp and woof the family constitution. His promises are all the more precious that they are to us and our children. And though this may not fit in with the growing individualism of the day, it is God's ordinance.

(e) Dr. Strong's fifth argument is drawn from the divergent modes in which paedobaptists defend their position and from the decline among them of the practice of the rite. Let us confess that we do not all argue alike or aright. But is not this a proof rather of the firm establishment in our hearts of the practice? We all practise alike; and it is the propriety of the practice, not the propriety of our defense of it, that is, after all, at stake. But the practice is declining, it is said. Perhaps this is true. Dr. Vedder's statistics seem to show it. But if so, does the decline show the practice to be wrong, or Christians to be unfaithful? It is among paedobaptists that the decline is taking place - those who still defend the practice. Perhaps it is the silent influence of Baptist neighbors; perhaps it is unfaithfulness in parents; perhaps the spread of a Quakerish sentiment of undervaluation of ordinances. Many reasons may enter into the account of it. But how does it show the practice to be wrong? According to the Baptist reconstruction of history, the Church began by not baptizing infants. But this primitive and godly practice declined - rapidly declined - until in the second century all infants were baptized and Tertullian raised a solitary and ineffectual voice crying a return to the older purity in the third. Did that decline of a prevalent usage prove it to be a wrong usage? By what logic can the decline in the second century be made an evidence in favor of the earlier usage, and that of the nineteenth an evidence against it?

(f) We must pass on, however, to the final string of arguments, which would fain point out the evil effects of infant baptism. First, it forestalls the act of the child and so prevents him from ever obeying Christ's command to be baptized - which is simply begging the question. We say it obeys Christ's command by giving the child early baptism and so marking him as the Lord's. Secondly, it is said to induce superstitious confidence in an outward rite, as if it possessed regenerating efficacy; and we are pointed to frantic mothers seeking baptism for their dying children. Undoubtedly the evil does occur and needs careful guarding against. But it is an evil not confined to this rite, but apt to attach itself to all rites - which need not, therefore, be all abolished. We may remark, in passing, on the unfairness of bringing together here illustrative instances from French Catholic peasants and High Church Episcopalians, as if these were of the same order with Protestants. Thirdly, it is said to tend to corrupt Christian truth as to the sufficiency of Scripture, the connection of the ordinances, and the inconsistency of an impenitent life with church membership, as if infant baptism necessarily argued sacramentarianism, or as if the churches of other Protestant bodies were as a matter of fact more full of "impenitent members" than those of the Baptists. This last remark is in place also, in reply to the fourth point made, wherein it is charged that the practice of infant baptism destroys the Church as a spiritual body by merging it in the nation and in the world. It is yet to be shown that the Baptist churches are purer than the paedobaptist. Dr. Strong seems to think that infant baptism is responsible for the Unitarian defection in New England. I am afraid the cause lay much deeper. Nor is it a valid argument against infant baptism, that the churches do not always fulfill their duty to their baptized members. This, and not the practice of infant baptism, is the fertile cause of incongruities and evils innumerable.

Lastly, it is urged that infant baptism puts "into the place of Christ's command a commandment of men, and so admit[s] . . . the essential principle of all heresy, schism, and false religion" - a good, round, railing charge to bring against one's brethren: but as an argument against infant baptism, drawn from its effects, somewhat of a petitio principii. If true, it is serious enough. But Dr. Strong has omitted to give the chapter and verse where Christ's command not to baptize infants is to be found. One or the other of us is wrong, no doubt; but do we not break an undoubted command of Christ when we speak thus harshly of our brethren, His children, whom we should love? Were it not better to judge, each the other mistaken, and recognize, each the other's desire to please Christ and follow His commandments? Certainly I believe that our Baptist brethren omit to fulfill an ordinance of Christ's house, sufficiently plainly revealed as His will, when they exclude the infant children of believers from baptism. But I know they do this unwittingly in ignorance; and I cannot refuse them the right hand of fellowship on that account. But now, having run through these various arguments, to what conclusion do we come? Are they sufficient to set aside our reasoned conviction, derived from some such argument as Dr. Hodge's, that infants are to be baptized? A thousand times no. So long as it remains true that Paul represents the Church of the Living God to be one, founded on one covenant (which the law could not set aside) from Abraham to to-day, so long it remains true that the promise is to us and our children and that the members of the visible Church consist of believers and their children - all of whom have a right to all the ordinances of the visible Church, each in its appointed season. The argument in a nutshell is simply this: God established His Church in the days of Abraham and put children into it. They must remain there until He puts them out. He has nowhere put them out. They are still then members of His Church and as such entitled to its ordinances. Among these ordinances is baptism, which standing in similar place in the New Dispensation to circumcision in the Old, is like it to be given to children.

Endnotes:

1. Reprinted from The Presbyterian Quarterly, xiii. 1899, pp. 313-334.

2. "Systematic Theology," iii. 1874, pp. 548ff.

3. 1886, pp. 534 ff.

4. P. 530.

5. This interpretation of Acts x. 47 must certaintly greatly embarrass Dr. Strong when he comes to interpret the case of the Samaritans in Acts viii. For the same falling of the Holy Ghost which was poured out on Cornelius and his friends and exhibited itself in "speaking with tongues and magnifying God" (Acts x. 46); and was made by Peter the plea why water should not be forbidden for baptizing them; not only did not precede baptism in the case of the Samaritans, but actually did not take place until a considerably later date. The Samaritans are baptized, Acts viii. 12; but the Holy Ghost had not been received by them, Acts viii. 16, and was not received until Peter and John visited them and laid their hands on them (Acts viii. 17). If the case of Cornelius proves that baptism is not administered until after the Holy Ghost is received, that of the Samaritans proves that it precedes the gift of the Holy Ghost. In truth neither passage proves the one or the other, this outpouring of the Holy Ghost referring to the charismata.

6. P. 534.

7. "Horæ Hebraicæ et Talmudicæ," on Matt. iii. 6 (Pitman edition of his "Works," xi. 1823, p. 58).

8. Cf. Cotton Mather, as quoted in Hodge, op. cit., iii. 1874, p. 572.

The Development of the Doctrine of Infant Salvation1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

The task which we set before us in this brief paper is not to unravel the history of opinion as to the salvation of infants dying in infancy, but the much more circumscribed one of tracing the development of doctrine on this subject. We hope to show that there has been a doctrine as to the salvation of infants common to all ages of the Church; but that there has also been in this, as in other doctrines, a progressive correction of crudities in its conception, by which the true meaning and relations of the common teaching have been freed from deforming accretions and its permanent core brought to purer expression.

I. THE PATRISTIC DOCTRINE

It is fundamental to the very conception of Christianity that it is a remedial scheme. Christ Jesus came to save sinners. The first Christians had no difficulty in understanding and confessing that Christ had come into a world lost in sin to establish a kingdom of righteousness, citizenship in which is the condition of salvation. That infants were admitted into this citizenship they did not question; Irenaeus, for example, finds it appropriate that Christ was born an infant and grew by natural stages into manhood, since "He came to save all by Himself - all, I say, who by Him are born again unto God, infants and children, and boys and young men, and old men," and accordingly passed through every age that He might sanctify all. Nor did they question that not the natural birth of the flesh, but the new birth of the Spirit was the sole gateway for infants too, into the kingdom; communion with God was lost for all alike, and to infants too it was restored only in Christ.2 Less pure elements, however, entered almost inevitably into their thought. The ingrained externalism of both Jewish and heathen modes of conception, when brought into the Church wrought naturally toward the identification of the kingdom of Christ with the external Church, and of regeneration with baptism. Already in Justin and Irenaeus, the word "regeneration" means "baptism"; the Fathers uniformly understand John iii. 5 of baptism. The maxim of the Patristic age thus became extra ecclesiam nulla salus; baptism was held to be necessary to salvation with the necessity of means; and as a corollary, no unbaptized infant could be saved. How early this doctrine of the necessity of baptism became settled in the Church is difficult to trace in the paucity of very early witnesses. Tertullian already defends it from objection.3 The reply of Cyprian and his fellow bishops to Fidus on the duty of early baptism, presupposes it.4 After that, it was plainly the Church-doctrine; and although it was mitigated in the case of adults by the admission not only of the baptism of blood, but also that of intention,5 the latter mitigation was not allowed in the case of infants. The whole Patristic Church agreed that, martyrs excepted, no infant dying unbaptized could enter the kingdom of heaven.

The fairest exponent of the thought of the age on this subject is Augustine, who was called upon to defend it against the Pelagian error that infants dying unbaptized, while failing of entrance into the kingdom, yet obtain eternal life. His constancy in this controversy has won for him the unenviable title of durus infantum pater - a designation doubly unjust, in that not only did he neither originate the obnoxious dogma nor teach it in its harshest form, but he was even preparing its destruction by the doctrines of grace, of which he was more truly the father.6 Augustine expressed the Church-doctrine moderately, teaching, of course, that infants dying unbaptized would be found on Christ's left hand and be condemned to eternal punishment, but also not forgetting to add that their punishment would be the mildest of all, and indeed that they were to be beaten with so few stripes that he could not say it would have been better for them not to be born.7 No doubt, others of the Fathers softened the doctrine even below this; some of the Greeks, for instance, like Gregory Nazianzen, thought that unbaptized infants are "neither glorified nor punished" - that is, of course, go into a middle state similar to that taught by Pelagius.8 But it is not to Augustine, but to Fulgentius (d. 533),9 or to Alcimus Avitus (d. 525),10 or to Gregory the Great (d. 604)11 to whom we must go for the strongest expression of the woe of unbaptized infants. Probably only such anonymous objectors as those whom Tertullian confutes,12 or such obscure and erratic individuals as Vincentius Victor whom Augustine convicts, in the whole Patristic age, doubted that the kingdom of heaven was closed to all infants departing this life without the sacrament of baptism.

II. THE MEDIEVAL MITIGATION

If the general consent of a whole age as expressed by its chief writers, including the leading bishops of Rome, and by its synodical decrees, is able to determine a doctrine, certainly the Patristic Church transmitted to the Middle Ages as de fide that infants dying unbaptized (with the exception only of those who suffer martyrdom) are not only excluded from heaven, but doomed to hell. Accordingly the medieval synods so define; the second Council of Lyons and the Council of Florence declare that "the souls of those who pass away in mortal sin or in original sin alone descend immediately to hell, to be punished, however, with unequal penalties." On the maxim that gradus non mutant speciem we must adjudge Petavius' argument13 unanswerable, that this deliverance determines the punishment of unbaptized infants to be the same in kind (in the same hell) with that of adults in mortal sin: "So infants are tormented with unequal tortures of fire, but are tormented nevertheless." Nevertheless scholastic thought on the subject was characterized by a successful effort to mollify the harshness of the Church-doctrine, under the impulse of the prevalent semi-Pelagian conception of original sin. The whole troupe of schoolmen unite in distinguishing between pœna damni and pœna sensus, and in assigning to infants dying unbaptized only the former - that is, the loss of heaven and the beatific vision, and not the latter - that is, positive torment. They differ among themselves only as to whether this pœna damni, which alone is the lot of infants, is accompanied by a painful sense of the loss (as Lombard held), or is so negative as to involve no pain at all, either external or internal (as Aquinas argued). So complete a victory was won by this mollification that perhaps only a single theologian of eminence can be pointed to who ventured still to teach the doctrine of Augustine and Gregory - Gregory Ariminensis thence called tortor infantum; and Hurter reminds us that even he did not dare to teach it definitely, but submitted it to the judgment of his readers.14 Dante, whom Andrew Seth not unjustly calls "by far the greatest disciple of Aquinas," has enshrined in his immortal poem the leading conception of his day, when he pictures the "young children innocent, whom Death's sharp teeth have snatched ere yet they were freed from the sin with which our birth is blent," as imprisoned within the brink of hell, "where the first circle girds the abyss of dread," in a place where "there is no sharp agony" but "dark shadows only," and whence "no other plaint rises than that of sighs" which "from the sorrow without pain arise."15 The novel doctrine attained papal authority by a decree of Innocent III (ca. 1200), who determined "the penalty of original sin to be the lack of the vision of God, but the penalty of actual sin to be the torments of eternal hell."

A more timid effort was also made in this period to modify the inherited doctrine by the application to it of a development of the baptism of intention. This tendency first appears in Hincmar of Rheims (d. 882), who, in a particularly hard case of interdict on a whole diocese, expresses the hope that "the faith and godly desire of the parents and godfathers" of the infants who had thus died unbaptized, "who in sincerity desired baptism for them but obtained it not, may profit them by the gift of Him whose spirit (which gives regeneration) breathes where it pleases." It is doubtful, however, whether he would have extended this lofty doctrine to any less stringent case.16 Certainly no similar teaching is met with in the Church, except with reference to the peculiarly hard case of still-born infants of Christian parents. The schoolmen (e.g. Alexander Hales and Thomas Aquinas) admitted a doubt whether God may not have ways of saving such unknown to us. John Gerson, in a sermon before the Council of Constance, presses the inference more boldly.17 God, he declared, has not so tied the mercy of His salvation to common laws and sacraments, but that without prejudice to His law He can sanctify children not yet born, by the baptism of His grace or the power of the Holy Ghost. Hence, he exhorts expectant parents to pray that if the infant is to die before attaining baptism, the Lord may sanctify it; and who knows but that the Lord may hear them? He adds, however, that he only intends to suggest that all hope is not taken away; for there is no certainty without a revelation. Gabriel Biel (d. 1495) followed in Gerson's footsteps,18 holding it to be accordant with God's mercy to seek out some remedy for such infants. This teaching remained, however, without effect on the Church-dogma, although something similar to it was, among men who served God in the way then called heresy, foreshadowing an even better to come. John Wycliffe (d. 1384) had already with like caution expressed his unwillingness to pronounce damned such infants as were intended for baptism by their parents, if they failed to receive it in fact; though he could not, on the other hand, assert that they were saved.19 His followers were less cautious, whether in England or Bohemia, and in this, too, approved themselves heralds of a brighter day.

III. THE TEACHING OF THE CHURCH OF ROME

In the upheaval of the sixteenth century the Church of Rome found her task in harmonizing under the influence of the scholastic teaching, the inheritance which the somewhat inconsistent past had bequeathed her. Four varieties of opinion sought a place in her teaching. At the one extreme the earlier doctrine of Augustine and Gregory, that infants dying unbaptized suffer eternally the pains of sense, found again advocates, and that especially among the greatest of her scholars, such as Noris, Petau, Driedo, Conry, Berti. At the other extreme, a Pelagianizing doctrine that excluded unbaptized infants from the kingdom of heaven and the life promised to the blessed, and yet accorded to them eternal life and natural happiness in a place between heaven and hell, was advocated by such great leaders as Ambrosius Catharinus, Albertus Pighius, Molina, Sfondrati. The mass, however, followed the schoolmen in the middle path of pœna damni, and, like the schoolmen, only differed as to whether the punishment of loss involved sorrow (as Bellarmine held) or was purely negative.20 The Council of Trent (1545) anathematized those who affirm that the "sacraments of the new law are not necessary to salvation, and that without them or an intention of them men obtain . . . the grace of justification"; or, again, that "baptism is free - that is, is not necessary to salvation." This is explained by the Tridentine Catechism to mean that "unless men be regenerated to God through the grace of baptism, they are born to everlasting misery and destruction, whether their parents be believers or unbelievers"; while, on the other hand, we are credibly informed21 that the Council was near anathematizing as a Lutheran heresy the proposition that the penalty for original sin is the fire of hell. The Council of Trent at least made renewedly de fide that infants dying unbaptized incurred damnation, though it left the way open for discussion as to the kind and amount of their punishment.22

The Tridentine deliverance, of course, does not exclude the baptism of blood as a substitute for baptism of water. Neither does it seem necessarily to exclude the application of a theory of baptism of intention to infants. Even after it, therefore, a twofold development seems to have been possible. The path already opened by Gerson and Biel might have been followed out, and a baptism of intention developed for infants as well as for adults. This might even have been pushed on logically, so as to cover the case of all infants dying in infancy. On the principle argued by Richard Hooker,23 for example, that the unavoidable failure of baptism in the case of Christian children cannot lose them salvation, because of the presumed desire and purpose of baptism for them in their Christian parents and in the Church of God, reasoners might have proceeded only a single step further and have said that the desire and purpose of Mother Church to baptize all is intention of baptism enough for all dying in helpless infancy. Thus on Roman principles a salvation for all dying in infancy might be logically deduced, and infants, as more helpless and less guilty, be given the preference over adults. On the other hand, it might be argued that as baptism either in re or in voto must mediate salvation, and as infants by reason of their age are incapable of the intention, they cannot be saved unless they receive it in fact,24 and thus infants be discriminated against in favor of adults. This second path is the one which has been actually followed by the theologians of the Church of Rome, with the ultimate result that not only are infants discriminated against in favor of adults, but the more recent theologians seem almost ready to discriminate against the infants of Christians as over against those of the heathen.25

The application of the baptism of intention to infants was not abandoned, however, without some protest from the more tender-hearted. Cardinal Cajetan defended in the Council of Trent itself Gerson's proposition that the desire of godly parents might be taken in lieu of the actual baptism of children dying in the womb.26 Cassander (1570) encouraged parents to hope and pray for children so dying.27 Bianchi (1768) holds that such children may be saved per oblationem pueri quam Deo mater extrinsecus faciat.28 Eusebius Amort (1758) teaches that God may be moved by prayer to grant justification to such extra-sacramentally.29 Even somewhat bizarre efforts have been made to escape the sad conclusion proclaimed by the Church. Thus Klee holds that a lucid interval is accorded to infants in the article of death, so that they may conceive the wish for baptism.30 An obscure French writer supposes that they may, "shut up in their mother's womb, know God, love Him, and have the baptism of desire."31 A more obscure German conceives that infants remain eternally in the same state of rational development in which they die, and hence enjoy all they are capable of; if they die in the womb they either fall back into the original force from which they were produced, or enjoy a happiness no greater than that of trees.32 These protests of the heart have awakened, however, no response in the Church,33 which has preferred to hold fast to the dogma that the failure of baptism in infants, dying such, excludes ipso facto from heaven, and to seek its comfort in mitigating still further than the scholastics themselves the nature of that pœna damni which alone it allows as punishment of original sin.

And if we may assume that such writers as Perrone, Hurter, Gousset, and Kendrick are typical of modern Roman theology throughout the world, certainly that theology may be said to have come, in this pathway of mitigation, as near to positing salvation for all infants dying unbaptized as the rather intractable deliverances of early popes and later councils permit to them. They all teach, of course (as the definitions of Florence and Trent require of them) - in the words of Perrone34 - "that children of this kind descend into hell, or incur damnation"; but (as Hurter says35), "although all Catholics agree that infants dying without baptism are excluded from the beatific vision and so suffer loss, are lost (pati damnum, damnari); they yet differ among themselves in their determination of the nature and condition of the state into which such infants pass." As the idea of "damnation" may thus be softened to a mere failure to attain, so the idea of "hell" may be elevated to that of a natural paradise. Hurter himself is inclined to a somewhat severer doctrine; but Perrone (supported by such great lights as Balmes, Berlage, Oswald, Lessius, and followed not afar off by Gousset and Kendrick) reverts to the Pelagianizing view of Catharinus and Molina and Sfondrati - which Petau called a "fabrication" championed indeed by Catharinus but originated "by Pelagius the heretic," and which Bellarmine contended was contra fidem - and teaches that unbaptized infants enter into a state deprived of all supernatural benefits, indeed, but endowed with all the happiness of which pure nature is capable. Their state is described as having the nature of penalty and of damnation when conceived of relatively to the supernatural happiness from which they are excluded by original sin; but when conceived of in itself and absolutely, it is a state of pure nature, and accordingly the words of Thomas Aquinas are applied to it: "They are joined to God by participation in natural goods, and so also can rejoice in natural knowledge and love."36 Thus, after so many ages, the Pelagian conception of the middle state for infants has obtained its revenge on the condemnation of the Church. No doubt it is not admitted that this is a return to Pelagianism; Perrone, for example, argues that Pelagius held the doctrine of a natural beatitude for infants as one unrelated to sin, while "Catholic theologians hold it with the death of sin; so that the exclusion from the beatific vision has the nature of penalty and of damnation proceeding from sin."37 Is there more than a verbal difference here? At all events, whatever difference exists is a difference not in the doctrine of the state of unbaptized infants after death, but in the doctrine of the fall. In deference to the language of fathers and councils and popes, this natural paradise is formally assigned to that portion of the other world designated "hell," but in its own nature it is precisely the Pelagian doctrine of the state of unbaptized infants after death. By what expedient such teaching is to be reconciled with the other doctrines of the Church of Rome, or with its former teaching on this same subject, or with its boast of semper eadem, is more interesting to its advocates within that communion than to us.38 Our interest as historians of opinion is exhausted in simply noting the fact that the Pelagianizing process, begun in the Middle Ages by assigning to infants guilty only of original sin liability to pœna damni alone, culminates in our day in their assignment by the most representative theologians of modern Rome to a natural paradise.

IV. THE LUTHERAN DOCTRINE

It is, no doubt, as a protest against the harshness of the Romanist syllogism, "No man can attain salvation who is not a member of Christ; but no one becomes a member of Christ except by baptism, received either in re or in voto,"39 that this Pelagianizing drift is to be regarded. Its fault is that it impinges by way of mitigation and modification on the major premise, which, however, is the fundamental proposition of Christianity. Its roots are planted, in the last analysis, in a conception of men, not as fallen creatures, children of wrath, and deserving of a doom which can only be escaped by becoming members of Christ, but as creatures of God with claims on Him for natural happiness, but, of course, with no claims on Him for such additional supernatural benefits as He may yet lovingly confer on His creatures in Christ. On the other hand, that great religious movement which we call the Reformation, the constitutive principle of which was its revised doctrine of the Church, ranged itself properly against the fallacious minor premise, and easily broke its bonds with the sword of the word. Men are not constituted members of Christ through the Church, but members of the Church through Christ; they are not made the members of Christ by baptism which the Church gives, but by faith, the gift of God; and baptism is the Church's recognition of this inner fact. The full benefit of this better apprehension of the nature of that Church of God membership in which is the condition of salvation, was not reaped, however, by all Protestants in equal measure. It was the strength of the Lutheran movement that it worked out its positions not theoretically or all at once, but step by step, as it was forced on by the logic of events and experience. But it was an incidental evil that, being compelled to express its faith early, its first confession was framed before the full development of Protestant thought, and subsequently contracted the faith of Lutheranism into too narrow channels. The Augsburg Confession contains the true doctrine of the Church as the congregatio sanctorum; but it committed Lutheranism to the doctrine that baptism is necessary to salvation (art. ix.) in such a sense that children are not saved without baptism (art. ix.),40 inasmuch as the condemnation and eternal death brought by original sin upon all are not removed except from those who are born again by baptism and the Holy Ghost (art. ii.) - that is, to the doctrine that the necessity of baptism is the necessity of means. In the direction of mollifying interpretation of this deliverance, the theologians urge: 1. That the necessity affirmed is not absolute but ordinary, and binds man and not God. 2. That as the assertion is directed against the Anabaptists, it is not the privation, but the contempt of baptism that is affirmed to be damning. 3. That the necessity of baptism is not intended to be equalized with that of the Holy Ghost. 4. That the affirmation is not that for original sin alone anyone is actually damned, but only that all are therefor damnable. There is force in these considerations. But they do not avail wholly to relieve the Augsburg Confession of limiting salvation to those who enjoy the means of grace, and as concerns infants, to those who receive the sacrament of baptism.

It is not to be held, of course, that it asserts such an absolute necessity of baptism for infants dying such, as admits no exceptions. From Luther and Melanchthon down, Lutheran theologians have always taught what Hunnius expressed in the Saxon Visitation Articles: "Unless a person be born again of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. Cases of necessity are not intended, however, by this." Lutheran theology, in other words, takes its stand positively on the ground of baptism of intention as applied to infants, as over against its denial by the Church of Rome. " Luther," says Dorner,41 "holds fast, in general, to the necessity of baptism in order to salvation, but in reference to the children of Christians who have died unbaptized, he says: 'The holy and merciful God will think kindly upon them. What He will do with them, He has revealed to no one, that baptism may not be despised, but has reserved to His own mercy; God does wrong to no man.'"42 From the fact that Jewish children dying before circumcision were not lost, Luther argues that neither are Christian children dying before baptism;43 and he comforts Christian mothers of still-born babes by declaring that they should understand that such infants are saved.44 So Bugenhagen, under Luther's direction, teaches that Christians' children intended for baptism are not left to the hidden judgment of God if they fail of baptism, but have the promise of being received by Christ into His kingdom.45 It is not necessary to quote later authors on a point on which all are unanimous; let it suffice to add only the clear statement of the developed Lutheranism of John Gerhard (1610-1622):46 "We walk in the middle way, teaching that baptism is, indeed, the ordinary sacrament of initiation and means of regeneration necessary to all, even to the children of believers, for regeneration and salvation; but yet that in the event of privation or impossibility the children of Christians are saved by an extraordinary and peculiar divine dispensation. For the necessity of baptism is not absolute, but ordinary; we on our part are obliged to the necessity of baptism, but there must be no denial of the extraordinary action of God in infants offered to Christ by pious parents and the Church in prayers, and dying before the opportunity of baptism can be given them, since God does not so bind His grace and saving efficacy to baptism as that, in the event of privation, He may not both wish and be able to act extraordinarily. We distinguish, then, between necessity on God's part and on our part; between the case of privation and the ordinary way; and also between infants born in the Church and out of the Church. Concerning infants born out of the Church, we say with the apostle (I Cor. v. 12, 13), 'For what have I to do with judging them that are without? Do not you judge them that are within? For them that are without God judgeth.' Wherefore, since there is no promise concerning them, we commit them to God's judgment; and yet we hold to no place intermediate between heaven and hell, concerning which there is utter silence in Scripture. But concerning infants born in the Church we have better hope. Pious parents properly bring their children as soon as possible to baptism as the ordinary means of regeneration, and offer them in baptism to Christ; and those who are negligent in this, so as through lack of care or wicked contempt for the sacrament to deprive their children of baptism, shall hereafter render a very heavy account to God, since they have 'despised the counsel of God' (Luke vii. 30). Yet neither can nor ought we rashly to condemn those infants which die in their mothers' wombs or by some sudden accident before they receive baptism, but may rather hold that the prayers of pious parents, or, if the parents are negligent of this, the prayers of the Church, poured out for these infants, are clemently heard and they are received by God into grace and life."

From this passage, too, we may learn the historical attitude of Lutheranism toward the entirely different question of the fate of infants dying outside the pale of the Church and the reach of its ordinances, a multitude so vast that it is wholly unreasonable to suppose them simply (like Christians' children deprived of baptism) exceptions to the rule laid down in the Augsburg Confession. It is perfectly clear that the Lutheran Confessions extend no hope for them. It is doubtful whether it can even be said that they leave room for hope for them. Melanchthon in the "Apology" is no doubt arguing against the Anabaptists, and intends to prove only that children should be baptized; but his words in explanation of art. ix. deserve consideration in this connection also - where he argues that "the promise of salvation" "does not pertain to those who are without the Church of Christ, where there is neither the Word nor the Sacraments, because the kingdom of Christ exists only with the Word and the Sacraments."47 Luther's personal opinion as to the fate of heathen children dying in infancy is in doubt; now he expresses the hope that the good and gracious God may have something good in view for them;48 and again, though leaving it to the future to decide, he only expects something milder for them than for the adults outside the Church;49 and Bugenhagen, under his eye, contrasts the children of Turks and Jews with those of Christians, as not sharers in salvation because not in Christ.50 From the very first the opinion of the theologians was divided on the subject. 1. Some held that all infants except those baptized in fact or intention are lost, and ascribed to them, of course - for this was the Protestant view of the desert of original sin - both privative and positive punishment. This party included such theologians as Quistorpius, Calovius, Fechtius, Zeibichius, Buddeus. 2. Others judged that we may cherish the best of hope for their salvation. Here belong Dannhauer, Hulsemann, Scherzer, J. A. Osiander, Wagner, Musæus, Cotta, and Spener. But the great body of Lutherans, including such names as Gerhard, Calixtus, Meisner, Baldwin, Bechmann, Hoffmann, Hunnius, held that nothing is clearly revealed as to the fate of such infants, and they must be left to the judgment of God. 3. Some of these, like Hunnius, were inclined to believe that they will be saved. 4. Others, with more (like Hoffmann) or less (like Gerhard) clearness, were rather inclined to believe they will be lost; but all alike held that the means for a certain decision are not in our hands.51 Thus Hunnius says:52 "That the infants of Gentiles, outside the Church, are saved, we cannot pronounce as certain, since there exists nothing definite in the Scriptures concerning the matter; so neither do I dare simply to assert that these children are indiscriminately damned. . . . Let us commit them, therefore, to the judgment of God." And Hoffmann says:53 "On the question whether the infants of the heathen nations are lost, most of our theologians prefer to suspend their judgment. To affirm as a certain thing that they are lost, could not be done without rashness."

This cautious agnostic attitude has the best right to be called the historical Lutheran attitude. It is even the highest position thoroughly consistent with the genius of the Lutheran system and the stress which it lays on the means of grace. The drift in more modern times has, however, been decidedly in the direction of affirming the salvation of all that die in infancy, on grounds identical with those pleaded by this party from the beginning - the infinite mercy of God, the universality of the atonement, the inability of infants to resist grace, their guiltlessness of despising the ordinance, and the like.54 Even so, however, careful modern Lutherans moderate their assertions. They affirm that "it is not the doctrine of our Confession that any human creature has ever been, or ever will be, lost purely on account of original sin";55 but they speak of the matter as a "dark" or a "difficult question,"56 and suspend the salvation of such infants on an "extraordinary" and "uncovenanted" exercise of God's mercy.57 We cannot rise to a conviction or a "faith" in the matter, but may attain to a "well-grounded hope," based on our apprehension of God's allembracing mercy.58 In short, the Lutheran doctrine seems to lay no firm foundation for a conviction of the salvation of all infants dying in infancy; at the best it is held to leave open an uncontradicted hope. We are afraid we must say more; it seems to contradict this hope. For should this hope prove true, it would no longer be true that "baptism is necessary to salvation," even ordinarily; the exception would be the rule. Nor would the fundamental conception of the Lutheran theory of salvation - that grace is in the means of grace - be longer tenable. The logic of the Lutheran system leaves little room for the salvation of all infants dying in infancy, and if their salvation should prove to be a fact, the integrity of the system is endangered.

V. ANGLICAN VIEWS

A similar difficulty is experienced by all types of Protestant thought in which the older idea of the Church, as primarily an external body, has been incompletely reformed. This may be illustrated, for example, from the history of thought in the Church of England. The Thirty-nine Articles, in their final form, are thoroughly Protestant and Reformed. And many of the greatest English theologians, even among those not most closely affiliated with Geneva, from the very earliest days of the Reformation, have repudiated the "cruel judgment" of the Church of Rome as to the fate of infants dying unbaptized. But this repudiation was neither immediate, nor has it ever been universal. The second of the Ten Articles of Henry VIII (1536) not only declares that the promise of grace and eternal life is adjoined to baptism, but adds that infants "by the sacrament of baptism do also obtain remission of their sins, the grace and favor of God, and be made thereby the very sons and children of God; insomuch as infants and children dying in their infancy shall undoubtedly be saved thereby, and else not." The first liturgy embodied the same implication. The growing Protestant sentiment soon revised it out of these standards.59 But there have never lacked those in the Church of England who still taught the necessity of baptism to salvation. If it can boast of a John Hooper, who speaks of the "ungodly opinion, that attributeth the salvation of men unto the receiving of an external sacrament," "as though the holy Spirit could not be carried by faith into the penitent and sorrowful conscience, except it rid always in a chariot and external sacrament," and who (probably first after Zwingli) taught that all infants dying in infancy, whether children of Christians or infidels, are saved;60 it also has counted among its teachers many who held with Matthew Scrivener that Christ's "death and passion are not communicated unto any but by outward signs and sacraments," so that "either all children must be damned, dying unbaptized, or they must have baptism."61 The general position of the Church up to his day is thus conceived by Wall:62 "The Church of England have declared their Sense of the [that is, baptism's] Necessity, by reciting that Saying of our Saviour, John iii. 5, both in the Office of Baptism of Infants, and also in that for those of riper Years. . . . Concerning the everlasting State of an Infant that by Misfortune dies unbaptized, the Church of England has determined nothing, (it were fit that all Churches would leave such Things to God) save that they forbid the ordinary Office for Burial to be used for such an one: for that were to determin the Point, and acknowledge him for a Christian Brother. And tho' the most noted Men in the said Church from Time to Time since the Reformation of it to this Time, have expressed their Hopes that God will accept the Purpose of the Parent for the Deed; yet they have done it modestly, and much as Wickliff did, rather not determining the Negative, than absolutely determining the Positive, that such a Child shall enter into the Kingdom of Heaven." If this is all that can be said of the children of the faithful, lacking baptism, where will those of the infidel appear? Many other opinions - more Protestant or more Pelagian - have, of course, found a home for themselves in the bosom of this most inclusive communion, but they are no more characteristic of its teaching than that of Wall. It is only needful to remember that there are still many among the clergy of the Church of England who, retaining the old, unreformed view of the Church, still believe "that the relationship of sonship to God is imparted through baptism and is not imparted without it";63 though, of course, many others, and we hope still a large majority, would repudiate this position as incredible.

VI. THE REFORMED DOCTRINE

It was among the Reformed alone that the newly recovered Scriptural apprehension of the Church to which the promises were given, as essentially not an externally organized body but the people of God, membership in which is mediated not by the external act of baptism but by the internal regeneration of the Holy Spirit, bore its full fruit in rectifying the doctrine of the application of redemption. This great truth was taught alike by both branches of Protestantism, but it was limited in its application in the one line of teaching by a very high doctrine of the means of grace, while in the other it became itself constitutive of the doctrine of the means of grace. Not a few Reformed theologians, even outside the Church of England, no doubt also held a high doctrine of the means; of whom Peter Jurieu may be taken as a type.64 But this was not characteristic of the Reformed churches, the distinguishing doctrine of which rather by suspending salvation on membership in the invisible instead of in the visible Church, transformed baptism from a necessity into a duty, and left men dependent for salvation on nothing but the infinite love and free grace of God. In this view the absolutely free and loving election of God alone is determinative of the saved; so that how many and who they are is known absolutely to God alone, and to us only so far forth as it may be inferred from the marks and signs of election revealed to us in the Word. Faith and its fruits are the chief signs in the case of adults, and he that believes may know that he is of the elect. In the case of infants dying in infancy, birth within the bounds of the covenant is a sure sign, since the promise is "unto us and our children." But present unbelief is not a sure sign of reprobation in the case of adults, for who knows but that unbelief may yet give place to faith? Nor in the case of infants, dying such, is birth outside the covenant a trustworthy sign of reprobation, for the election of God is free. Accordingly there are many - adults and infants - of whose salvation we may be sure, but of reprobation we cannot be sure; such a judgment is necessarily unsafe even as to adults apparently living in sin, while as to infants who " die and give no sign," it is presumptuous and rash in the extreme.

The above is practically an outline of the teaching of Zwingli. He himself worked it out in its logical completeness, and taught: 1. That all believers are elect and hence are saved, though we cannot know infallibly who are true believers except in our own case. 2. All children of believers dying in infancy are elect and hence are saved, for this rests on God's immutable promise. 3. It is probable, from the superabundance of the gift of grace over the offense, that all infants dying such are elect and saved; so that death in infancy is a sign of election; and although this must be left with God, it is certainly rash and even impious to affirm their damnation. 4. All who are saved, whether adult or infant, are saved only by the free grace of God's election and through the redemption of Christ.65

The central principle of Zwingli's teaching is not only the common possession of all Calvinists, but the essential postulate of their system. They can differ among themselves only in their determination of what the signs of election and reprobation are, and in their interpretation of these signs. On these grounds Calvinists early divided into five classes: 1. From the beginning a few held with Zwingli that death in infancy is a sign of election, and hence that all who die in infancy are the children of God and enter at once into glory. After Zwingli, Bishop Hooper was probably the first66 to embrace this view.67 It has more lately become the ruling view, and we may select Augustus Toplady68 and Robert S. Candlish as its types. The latter, for example, writes:69 "In many ways, I apprehend, it may be inferred from Scripture that all dying in infancy are elect, and are therefore saved. . . . The whole analogy of the plan of saving mercy seems to favour the same view. And now it may be seen, if I am not greatly mistaken, to be put beyond question by the bare fact that little children die. . . . The death of little children must be held to be one of the fruits of redemption. . . ." 2. At the opposite extreme a very few held that the only sure sign of election is faith with its fruits, and, therefore, we can have no real ground of knowledge concerning the fate of any infant; as, however, God certainly has His elect among them too, each man can cherish the hope that his children are of the elect. Peter Martyr approaches this sadly agnostic position (which was afterward condemned by the Synod of Dort), writing: "Neither am I to be thought to promise salvation to all the children of the faithful which depart without the sacrament, for if I should do so I might be counted rash; I leave them to be judged by the mercy of God, seeing I have no certainty concerning the secret election and predestination; but I only assert that those are truly saved to whom the divine election extends, although baptism does not intervene. . . . Just so, I hope well concerning infants of this kind, because I see them born from faithful parents; and this thing has promises that are uncommon; and although they may not be general, quoad omnes, . . . yet when I see nothing to the contrary it is right to hope well concerning the salvation of such infants."70 The great body of Calvinists, however, previous to the present century, took their position between these extremes. 3. Many held that faith and the promise are sure signs of election, and accordingly all believers and their children are certainly saved; but that the lack of faith and the promise is an equally sure sign of reprobation, so that all the children of unbelievers, dying such, are equally certainly lost. The younger Spanheim, for example, writes: "Confessedly, therefore, original sin is a most just cause of positive reprobation. Hence no one fails to see what we should think concerning the children of pagans dying in their childhood; for unless we acknowledge salvation outside of God's covenant and Church (like the Pelagians of old, and with them Tertullian, Epiphanius, Clement of Alexandria, of the ancients, and of the moderns, Andradius, Ludovicus Vives, Erasmus, and not a few others, against the whole Bible), and suppose that all the children of the heathen, dying in infancy, are saved, and that it would be a great blessing to them if they should be smothered by the midwives or strangled in the cradle, we should humbly believe that they are justly reprobated by God on account of the corruption (labes) and guilt (reatus) derived to them by natural propagation. Hence, too, Paul testifies (Rom. v. 14) that death has passed upon them which have not sinned after the similitude of Adam's transgression, and distinguishes and separates (I Cor. vii. 14) the children of the covenanted as holy from the impure children of unbelievers."71 4. More held that faith and the promise are certain signs of election, so that the salvation of believers' children is certain, while the lack of the promise only leaves us in ignorance of God's purpose; nevertheless that there is good ground for asserting that both election and reprobation have place in this unknown sphere. Accordingly they held that all the infants of believers, dying such, are saved, but that some of the infants of unbelievers, dying such, are lost. Probably no higher expression of this general view can be found than John Owen's. He argues that there are two ways in which God saves infants: "(1) by interesting them in the covenant, if their immediate or remote parents have been believers. He is a God of them and of their seed, extending his mercy unto a thousand generations of them that fear him;72 (2) by his grace of election, which is most free, and not tied to any conditions; by which I make no doubt but God taketh many unto him in Christ whose parents never knew, or had been despisers of, the gospel."73 5. Most Calvinists of the past, however, have simply held that faith and the promise are marks by which we may know assuredly that all those who believe and their children, dying such, are elect and saved, while the absence of sure marks of either election or reprobation in infants, dying such outside the covenant, leaves us without ground for inference concerning them, and they must be left to the judgment of God, which, however hidden from us, is assuredly just and holy and good. This agnostic view of the fate of uncovenanted infants has been held, of course, in conjunction with every degree of hope or the lack of hope concerning them, and thus in the hands of the several theologians it approaches each of the other views, except, of course, the second, which separates itself from the general Calvinistic attitude by allowing a place for reprobation even among believers' infants, dying such. Petrus de Witte may stand for one example. He says: "We must adore God's judgments and not curiously inquire into them. Of the children of believers it is not to be doubted but that they shall be saved, inasmuch as they belong unto the covenant. But because we have no promise of the children of unbelievers we leave them to the judgment of God."74 Matthew Henry75 and our own Jonathan Dickinson76 may also stand as types. It is this cautious, agnostic view which has the best historical right to be called the general Calvinistic one. Van Mastricht correctly says that while the Reformed hold that infants are liable to reprobation, yet "concerning believers' infants . . . they judge better things. But unbelievers' infants, because the Scriptures determine nothing clearly on the subject, they judge should be left to the divine discretion."77

The Reformed Confessions with characteristic caution refrain from all definition of the negative side of the salvation of infants, dying such, and thus confine themselves to emphasizing the gracious doctrine common to the whole body of Reformed thought. The fundamental Reformed doctrine of the Church is nowhere more beautifully stated than in the sixteenth article of the Old Scotch Confession, while the polemical appendix of 1580, in its protest against the errors of "antichrist," specifically mentions "his cruell judgement againis infants departing without the sacrament: his absolute necessitie of baptisme." No synod probably ever met which labored under greater temptation to declare that some infants, dying in infancy, are reprobate, than the Synod of Dort. Possibly nearly every member of it held as his private opinion that there are such infants; and the certainly very shrewd but scarcely sincere methods of the Remonstrants in shifting the form in which this question came before the synod were very irritating. But the fathers of Dort, with truly Reformed loyalty to the positive declarations of Scripture, confined themselves to a clear testimony to the positive doctrine of infant salvation and a repudiation of the calumnies of the Remonstrants, without a word of negative inference. "Since we are to judge of the will of God from His Word," they say, "which testifies that the children of believers are holy, not by nature, but in virtue of the covenant of grace in which they together with their parents are comprehended, godly parents have no reason to doubt of the election and salvation of their children whom it pleaseth God to call out of this life in their infancy" (art. xvii.). Accordingly they repel in the Conclusion the calumny that the Reformed teach "that many children of the faithful are torn guiltless from their mothers' breasts and tyrannically plunged into hell."78 It is easy to say that nothing is here said of the children of any but the "godly  and of the "faithful"; this is true; and therefore it is not implied (as is so often thoughtlessly asserted) that the contrary of what is here asserted is true of the children of the ungodly; but nothing is taught of them at all. It is more to the purpose to observe that it is asserted that the children of believers, dying such, are saved; and that this assertion is an inestimable advance on that of the Council of Trent and that of the Augsburg Confession that baptism is necessary to salvation. It is the confessional doctrine of the Reformed churches and of the Reformed churches alone, that all believers' infants, dying in infancy, are saved.

What has been said of the Synod of Dort may be repeated of the Westminster Assembly. The Westminster divines were generally at one in the matter of infant salvation with the doctors of Dort, but, like them, they refrained from any deliverance as to its negative side. That death in infancy does not prejudice the salvation of God's elect they asserted in the chapter of their Confession which treats of the application of Christ's redemption to His people: "All those whom God hath predestined unto life, and those only, he is pleased, in his appointed and accepted time, effectually to call, by his Word and Spirit, . . . so as they come most freely, being made willing by his grace. . . . Elect infants dying in infancy are regenerated and saved by Christ, through the Spirit who worketh when, and where, and how he pleaseth."79 With this declaration of their faith that such of God's elect as die in infancy are saved by His own mysterious working in their hearts, although incapable of the response of faith, they were content. Whether these elect comprehend all infants, dying such, or some only - whether there is such a class as non-elect infants, dying in infancy, their words neither say nor suggest. No Reformed confession enters into this question; no word is said by any one of them which either asserts or implies either that some infants are reprobated or that all are saved. What has been held in common by the whole body of Reformed theologians on this subject is asserted in these confessions; of what has been disputed among them the confessions are silent. And silence is as favorable to one type as to another.

Although the cautious agnostic position as to the fate of uncovenanted infants dying in infancy may fairly claim to be the historical Calvinistic view, it is perfectly obvious that it is not per se any more Calvinistic than any of the others. The adherents of all types enumerated above are clearly within the limits of the system, and hold with the same firmness to the fundamental position that salvation is suspended on no earthly cause, but ultimately rests on God's electing grace alone, while our knowledge of who are saved depends on our view of what are the signs of election and of the clearness with which they may be interpreted. As these several types differ only in the replies they offer to the subordinate question, there is no "revolution" involved in passing from one to the other; and as in the lapse of time the balance between them swings this way or that, it can only be truly said that there is advance or retrogression, not in fundamental conception, but in the clearness with which details are read and with which the outline of the doctrine is filled up. In the course of time the agnostic view of the fate of uncovenanted infants, dying such, has given place to an ever growing universality of conviction that these infants too are included in the election of grace; so that to-day few Calvinists can be found who do not hold with Toplady, and Doddridge, and Thomas Scott, and John Newton, and James P. Wilson, and Nathan L. Rice, and Robert J. Breckinridge, and Robert S. Candlish, and Charles Hodge, and the whole body of those of recent years whom the Calvinistic churches delight to honor, that all who die in infancy are the children of God and enter at once into His glory - not because original sin alone is not deserving of eternal punishment (for all are born children of wrath), nor because they are less guilty than others (for relative innocence would merit only relatively light punishment, not freedom from all punishment), nor because they die in infancy (for that they die in infancy is not the cause but the effect of God's mercy toward them), but simply because God in His infinite love has chosen them in Christ, before the foundation of the world, by a loving foreordination of them unto adoption as sons in Jesus Christ. Thus, as they hold, the Reformed theology has followed the light of the Word until its brightness has illuminated all its corners, and the darkness has fled away.

VII. "ETHICAL" TENDENCIES

The most serious peril which the orderly development of the Christian doctrine of the salvation of infants has had to encounter, as men strove, age after age, more purely and thoroughly to apprehend it, has arisen from the intrusion into Christian thought of what we may, without lack of charity, call the unchristian conception of man's natural innocence. For the task which was set to Christian thinking was to obtain a clear understanding of God's revealed purpose of mercy to the infants of a guilty and wrath-deserving race. And the Pelagianizing conception of the innocence of human infancy, in however subtle a form presented, put the solution of the problem in jeopardy by suggesting that it needed no solution. We have seen how some Greek Fathers cut the knot with the facile formula that infantile innocence, while not deserving of supernatural reward, was yet in no danger of being adjudged to punishment. We have seen how in the more active hands of Pelagius and his companions, as part of a great unchristian scheme, it menaced Christianity itself, and was repelled only by the vigor and greatness of an Augustine. We have seen how the same conception, creeping gradually into the Latin Church in the milder form of semi-Pelagianism, lulled her heart to sleep with suggestions of less and less ill-desert for original sin, until she neglected the problem of infant salvation altogether and comforted herself with a constantly attenuating doctrine of infant punishment. If infants are so well off without Christ, there is little impulse to consider whether they may not be in Christ.

The Reformed churches could not hope to work out the problem free from menace from the perennial enemy. The crisis came in the form of the Remonstrant controversy. The anthropology of the Remonstrants was distinctly semi-Pelagian, and on that basis no solid advance was possible. Nor was the matter helped by their postulation of a universal atonement which lost in intention as much as it gained in extension. Infants may have very little to be saved from, but their salvation from even it cannot be wrought by an atonement which only purchases for them the opportunity for salvation - an opportunity of which they cannot avail themselves, however much the natural power of free choice is uninjured by the fall, for the simple reason that they die infants; while God cannot be held to make them, without their free choice, partakers of this atonement without an admission of that sovereign discrimination among men which it was the very object of the whole Remonstrant theory to exclude. It is not strange that the Remonstrants looked with some favor on the Romish theory of pœna damni. Though the doctrine of the salvation of all infants dying in infancy became one of their characteristic tenets, it had no logical basis in their scheme of faith, and their proclamation of it could have no direct effect in working out the problem. Indirectly it had a twofold effect. On the one hand, it retarded the true course of the development of doctrine, by leading those who held fast to Biblical teaching on original sin and particular election, to oppose the doctrine of the salvation of all dying in infancy, as if it were necessarily inconsistent with these teachings. Probably Calvinists were never so united in affirming that some infants, dying such, are reprobated, as in the height of the Remonstrant controversy. On the other hand, so far as the doctrine of the salvation of all infants, dying such, was accepted by the anti-Remonstrants, it tended to bring in with it, in more or less measure, the other tenets with which it was associated in their teaching, and thus to lead men away from the direct path along which alone the solution was to be found. Wesleyan Arminianism brought only an amelioration, not a thoroughgoing correction of the faults of Remonstrantism. The theoretical postulation of original sin and natural inability, corrected by the gift to all men of a gracious ability on the basis of universal atonement in Christ, was a great advance. But it left the salvation of infants dying in infancy logically as unaccounted for as original Remonstrantism. Ex hypothesi, the universal atonement could bring to these infants only what it brought to all others, and this was something short of salvation - viz., an ability to improve the grace given alike to all. But infants, dying such, cannot improve grace; and therefore, it would seem, cannot be saved, unless we suppose a special gift to them over and above what is given to other men - a supposition subversive at once of the whole Arminian contention. The assertion of the salvation of all infants dying in infancy, although a specially dear tenet of Wesleyan Arminianism, remains therefore, as with the earlier Remonstrants, unconformable to the system. The Arminian difficulty, indeed, lies one step further back; it does not make clear how any infant dying in infancy is to be saved.80

The truth seems to be that there is but one logical outlet for any system of doctrine which suspends the determination of who are to be saved upon any action of man's own will, whether in the use of gracious or natural ability (that is, of course, if it is unwilling to declare infants, dying such, incapable of salvation); and that lies in the extension of "the day of grace" for such into the other world. Otherwise, there will inevitably be brought in covertly, in the salvation of infants, that very sovereignty of God, "irresistible" grace and passive receptivity, to deny which is the whole raison d'être of these schemes. There are indications that this is being increasingly felt among those who are most concerned; we have noted it most recently among the Cumberland Presbyterians,81 who, perhaps alone of Christian denominations, have embodied in their confession their conviction that all infants, dying such, are saved. The theory of a probation in the other world for such as have had in this no such probation as to secure from them a decisive choice has come to us from Germany, and bears accordingly a later Lutheran coloring. Its roots are, however, planted in the earliest Lutheran thinking,82 and are equally visible in the writings of the early Remonstrants; its seeds are present, in fact, wherever man's salvation is causally suspended on any act of his own. But the outcome offered by it certainly affords no good reason for affirming that all infants, dying such, are saved. It is not uncommon, indeed, for the advocates of this theory to suppose the present life to be a more favorable opportunity for moral renewal in Christ than the next.83 Some, no doubt, think otherwise. But in either event what can assure us that all will be so renewed? We are ready to accept the subtle argument in Dr. Kedney's valuable work, "Christian Doctrine Harmonized,"84 as the best that can be said on the premises; for although Dr. Kedney denies the theory of "future probation" in general, he shares the general "ethical" view on which it is founded, and projects the salvation of infants dying in infancy into the next world on the express ground that they are incapable of choice here. He assures us that they will surely welcome the knowledge of God's love in Christ there. But we miss the grounds of assurance, on the fundamental postulates of the scheme. If the choice of these infants, while it remains free, can be made thus certain there, why not the same for all men here? And if their choice is thus made certain, is their destiny determined by their choice, or by God who makes that choice certain? Assuredly no thoroughfare is open along this path for a consistent doctrine of the salvation of all those that die in infancy. But this seems the only pathway that is consistently open to those, of whatever name, who make man's own undetermined act the determining factor in his salvation.85

VIII. THE DOCTRINAL DEVELOPMENT

The drifts of doctrine which have come before us in this rapid sketch may be reduced to three generic views. 1. There is what may be called the ecclesiastical doctrine, according to which the Church, in the sense of an outwardly organized body, is set as the sole fountain of salvation in the midst of a lost world; the Spirit of God and eternal life are its peculiar endowments, of which none can partake save through communion with it. Accordingly, to all those departing this life in infancy, baptism, the gateway to the Church, is the condition of salvation. 2. There is what may be called the gracious doctrine, according to which the visible Church is not set in the world to determine by the gift of its ordinances who are to be saved, but as the harbor of refuge for the saints, to gather into its bosom those whom God Himself in His infinite love has selected in Christ Jesus before the foundation of the world in whom to show the wonders of His grace. Men accordingly are not saved because they are baptized, but they are baptized because they are saved, and the failure of the ordinance does not argue the failure of the grace. Accordingly, to all those departing this life in infancy, inclusion in God's saving purpose alone is the condition of salvation; we may be able to infer this purpose from manifest signs, or we may not be able to infer it, but in any case it cannot fail. 3. There is what may be called the humanitarian doctrine, according to which the determining cause of man's salvation is his own free choice, under whatever variety of theories as to the source of his power to exercise this choice, or the manner in which it is exercised. Accordingly, whether one is saved or not is dependent not on baptism or on inclusion in God's hidden purpose, but on the decisive activity of the soul itself.

The first of these doctrines is characteristic of the early, the medieval, and the Roman churches, not without echoes in those sections of Protestantism which love to think of themselves as "more historical" or less radically reformed than the rest. The second is the doctrine of the Reformed churches. These two are not opposed to one another in their most fundamental conception, but are related rather as an earlier misapprehension and a later correction of the same basal doctrine. The phrase extra ecclesiam nulla salus is the common property of both; they differ only in their understanding of the "ecclesia," whether of the visible or invisible Church. The third doctrine, on the other hand, has cropped out ever and again in every age of the Church, has dominated whole sections of it and whole ages, but has never, in its purity, found expression in any great historic confession or exclusively characterized any age. It is, in fact, not a section of Church doctrine at all, but an intrusion into Christian thought from without. In its purity it has always and in all communions been accounted heresy; and only as it has been more or less modified and concealed among distinctively Christian adjuncts has it ever made a position for itself in the Church. Its fundamental conception is the antipodes of that of the other doctrines.

The first step in the development of the doctrine of infant salvation was taken when the Church laid the foundation which from the beginning has stood firm, Infants too are lost members of a lost race, and only those savingly united to Christ are saved. In its definition of what infants are thus savingly united to Christ the early Church missed the path. All that are brought to Him in baptism, was its answer. Long ages passed before the second step was taken in the correct definition. The way was prepared, indeed, by Augustine's doctrine of grace, by which salvation was made dependent on the dealings of God with the individual heart. But his eyes were holden that he should not see it. It was reserved to Zwingli to proclaim it clearly, All the elect children of God, who are regenerated by the Spirit who worketh when, and where, and how He pleaseth. The sole question that remains is, Who of those that die in infancy are the elect children of God? Tentative answers were given. The children of God's people, said some. The children of God's people, with such others as His love has set upon to call, said others. All those that die in infancy, said others still; and to this reply Reformed thinking and not Reformed thinking only, but in one way or another, logically or illogically, the thinking of the Christian world has been converging. Is it the Scriptural answer? It is as legitimate and as logical an answer as any, on Reformed postulates. It is legitimate on no other postulates. If it be really conformable to the Word of God it will stand; and the third step in the development of the doctrine of infant salvation is already taken. But if it stand, it can stand on no other theological basis than the Reformed. If all infants dying in infancy are saved, it is certain that they are not saved by or through the ordinances of the visible Church (for they have not received them), nor through their own improvement of a grace common to all men (for they are incapable of activity); it can only be through the almighty operation of the Holy Spirit who worketh when and where and how He pleaseth, through whose ineffable grace the Father gathers these little ones to the home He has prepared for them.

Endnotes:

1. Reprinted from the pamphlet of this title published by the Christian Literature Company of New York in 1891 (copyright now held by Charles Scribner's Sons).

2. Irenæus, "Haer.," II. xxii. 4, and III. xviii. 7.

3. "De bapt.," c. xii.

4. Ep, lviii. (lxiv.).

5. With what limitations may be conveniently read in Wall, "History of Infant Baptism," ed. 2, 1707, pp. 359 ff.

6. Cf. "The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers," edited by Dr. Schaff, v. 1887 ("Augustin's Anti-Pelagian Writings"), pp. lxx. f.

7. Augustine's doctrine is most strongly expressed in "De verbis apostoli sermo xiv." (Sermo ccxciv., in "Opera," Paris, tom. v. pars ii. 1838, coll. 1738 ff.). In "De Peccat. Merit.," c. 21 (xvi.), and "Contra Julianum," v. 11, he speaks of the comparative mildness of the punishment.

8. Cf. Wall, op. cit., pp. 64 and 365.

9. "De fide ad Petrum," c. 27.

10. "Ad Fuscinam sororem."

11. "Expos. in Job," i. 16.

12. "De bapt.," c. xii.

13. Petavius, "Dogmata theologica," ed. Paris, ii. 1865, pp. 59 ff.

14. Hurter, "Theologiae dogmaticae compendium," iii. 1878, pp. 516 ff.: tract. x. cap. iii. § 729. Wycliffe must be added.

15. "Hell," iv. 23ff.; "Purgatory," vii. 25ff.; "Heaven," xxxii. 76ff. (Plumptre's translation).

16. Cf. Wall, op. cit., p. 371.

17. "Sermo de nativitate virg. Mariae," consid, ii. ("Opera," iii. 1728, p. 1350).

18. In IV. dist. iv. q. 2: see Petavius, op. cit., p. 60.

19. Cf. Wall, p. 372.

20. For this classification see Bellarmine, "De amissione gratise," lib. vi. c. 1 ("Opera," v. 1873, pp. 454f.); and cf. Gerhard, "Loci theologici," ed. Cotta, ix. 1769, p. 281; Chamier, "Panstratiae catholicae," iii. 1626, p. 159, or Spanheim, "Chamierus contractus," 1643, p. 797.

21. So Father Paul, "History of the Council of Trent," lib. ii.

22. Perrone, "Prælectiones theologicæ ... in compendium redactæ," i. 1861, pp. 494 ff.

23. "Ecclesiastical Polity," V. lx. 6, in "Works," ed. Keble, i. 1844, p. 413.

24. Thus e.g. Dominicus de Soto expresses it ("De natura et gratia," ii. 10): "It is most firmly established in the Church that no infant apart from baptism in re - since he cannot have it in voto - enters the kingdom of heaven."

25. This grows out of the development of the doctrines of ignorance and "invincible ignorance," the latter of which was authoritatively defined by Pope Pius IX in his Encyclical addressed to the Bishops of Italy, August 10, 1863. See an interesting statement concerning it in Newman's "A Letter to the Duke of Norfolk," on the Infallibility of the Pope. Thus while an absolute necessity for baptism in re is posited for the infants of even Christian parents, even though they die in the womb, on the other hand, as the law of baptism is in force only where it is known, and even an ignorance morally invincible (as among sectaries) is counted true ignorance, not even an intention of baptism is demanded of the heathen or of certain sectaries. Gousset, "Théologie Dogmatique," ed. 10, Paris, 1866, i. pp. 548, 549, 551, ii. pp. 382f., may be profitably consulted in this connection. Among the heathen thus the old remedies for sin are still probably valid; St. Bernard says (quoted approvingly by Gousset), "Among the Gentiles as many as are found faithful, we believe that the adults are expiated by faith and the sacrifices; but the faith of the parents profits the children, nay, even suffices for them." If the fathers are saved, why not the children? Might not a Christian's infant dying in the womb be said to be "invincibly ignorant"? Why need the "law of baptism" be so inflexibly extended to it?

26. In 3 part. Thomae, q. 68, art. 2 et 11.

27. "De baptismo infantium."

28. "De remedio ... pro parvulis ... sine baptismo morientibus."

29. "Theolog. moralis," II. xi. 3.

30. "Katholische Dogmatik," iii. 1845, pp. 151 f. (cap. ii. zweiter Abschnitt, § 1).

31. De la Marne, "Traité métaphysique des dogmes de la Trinité," Paris, 1826.

32. Hermesius, Zeitschrift für Phil. und kath. Theologie, Bonn, 1832.

33. Cf. Vasquez, in 3 P. s. Th. disp. cli. cap. 1; Hurter, op. cit., iii. 1878, pp. 516 ff.; Perrone, "Prælectiones theologicæ," vi. 1839, p. 55.

34. "Prælectiones theologicæ ... in compendium redactæ," i. 1861, p. 494, No. 585.

35. Op. cit., p. 517, No. 729.

36. Perrone, i. p. 495; cf. ii. 1861, p. 252.

37. Op. cit., i. p. 495, No. 590.

38. See some of the difficulties very mildly stated in Hurter, loc. cit.

39. The words are Aquinas' (p. 3, q. 68, art. 1) ; see them quoted and applied by Perrone, op. cit., ii. p. 253, No. 99.

40. "Or outside the Church of Christ," as is added in ed. 1540.

41. "History of Protestant Theology" (E.T.), i. 1871, pp. 171f.

42. "Werke," xxii. 872 (Dorner's quotation).

43. "Com. in Gen.," c. 17: "Exegetica opera latina," Erlangen, iv. 1829, p. 78.

44. "Christliches Bedenken."

45. See for several such quotations brought together, Laurence, "Eight Sermons Preached before the University of Oxford," Bampton Lectures, 1804, ed. 1820, pp. 271 f. Also Gerhard as in next note.

46. Ed. Cotta, ix. 1769, pp. 282 ff.

47. "Opera," in "Corpus reformatorum," xxvii. 1859, p. 533.

48. Cf. Dorner, op. cit., i. p. 172.

49. Cf. Laurence, op. cit., pp. 272 f.

50. 50 Ibid., p. 272. 426

51. This classification is taken from Cotta (Gerhard's "Loci," ix. p. 282).

52. "Quæst. in cap. vii. Gen."

53. See Krauth, "The Conservative Reformation and its Theology," 1872, p. 433.

54. Cf. the statements in Cotta, loc. cit., and Krauth, loc. cit.

55. Krauth, op. cit., p. 429.

56. Ibid., pp. 561-563.

57. Ibid., pp. 430, 438.

58. Krauth, "Infant Baptism and Infant Salvation in the Calvinistic System," 1874, p. 22.

59. For an outline of the history see Schaff, "Creeds of Christendom," i. 1877, p. 642; cf. Laurence, 0p. cit., pp. 176 f.

60. "Answer to the Bishop of Winchester's Book," 1547, in the Parker Society's "Early Writings of Bishop Hooper," 1843, pp. 129, 131.

61. "Course of Divinity," London, 1674, p. 196.

62. "History of Infant Baptism," ed. 2, 1707, p. 377.

63. "Tracts for the Times," by members of the University of Oxford, ii. 1839, No. 67.

64. See his views quoted and discussed by Witsius, "De efficacia et utilitate baptismi," in "Miscellanea sacra," ii. 1736, pp. 513 ff.

65. Zwingli's teaching may be conveniently worked out by the aid of August Baur's valuable "Zwinglis Theologie," especially vol. ii. (Halle, 1889). Zwingli's doctrine of original sin had practically no influence on this question.

66. The adverb is used advisedly. Calvin is often held to have believed that all infants dying such are saved. For a careful statement of this opinion see especially the full and learned paper of Dr. Charles W. Shields, in The Presbyterian and Reformed Review for October, 1890 (i. pp. 634-651). To us, however, Calvin seems, while speaking with admirable caution, to imply that he believed some infants dying such to be lost. See e.g. his comment on Rom. v. 17, and his treatises against Pighius, Servetus, and Castellio. Dr. Schaff repeatedly speaks of Bullinger as agreeing in this point with Zwingli - on what grounds we know not unless the note in "Creeds of Christendom," i. 1877, p. 642, note 3, is intended to direct us to the passages quoted by Laurence as such. But these passages do not seem to support that opinion; and in a diligent search in Bullinger's works we find nothing to favor it and much to negative it.

67. See reference ante, p. 129.

68. "Complete Works," new edition, 1857, pp. 645 f.

69. "The Atonement: its Efficacy and Extent," 1867, pp. 183, 184.

70. "Loci communes," i. 1580, p. 439a (classis IV. loc. viii. § 16).

71. "Opera," iii. 1703, coll. 1173 f., § 22.

72. It is, perhaps, worth noting that this is the general Calvinistic view of what "children of believers" means. Cf. Calvin, "Tracts," iii. 1851, p. 351.

73. "Works," ed. Goold, x. 1852, p. 81 (ed. Russell, v. 1826, p. 137).

74. "Catechism," q. 37.

75. "Miscellaneous Works," 1830, p. 940.

76. "Sermons and Tracts," 1793, p. 205.

77. "Theoretico-practica theologia," 1724, p. 308.

78. The language here used has a not uninteresting history. It is Calvin's challenge to Castellio: "Put forth now thy virulence against God, who hurls innocent babes torn from their mothers' breasts into eternal death" ("De occulta Dei providentia," in "Opera," ed. Amsterdam, viii. pp. 644-645). The underlying conception that God condemns infants to eternal death seems to be Calvin's; but the mode of expression is Calvin's reductio ad absurdum (or rather ad blasphemiam) of Castellio's opinions. Nevertheless the Remonstrants allowed themselves in their polemic zeal to apply the whole sentiment to the orthodox, and that, even in a still more sharpened form - viz., with reference to believers' children. This very gross calumny the Synod repels. Its deliverance is subjected to a very sharp and not very candid criticism by Episcopius ("Opera," I. i. p. 176, and specially II. p. 28).

79. Westminster Confession of Faith, X. i. and iii. The opinion that a body of non-elect infants dying in infancy and not saved is implied in this passage, although often controversially asserted, is not only a wholly unreasonable opinion exegetically, but is absolutely negatived by the history of the formation of this clause in the Assembly as recorded in the "Minutes," and has never found favor among the expositors of the Confession. David Dickeon's (1684) treatment of the section shows that he understands it to be directed against the Anabaptists; and all careful students of the Confession understand it as above, including Shaw, Hodge, Macpherson, and Mitchell. The same is true of all schools of adherents to the Confession. See e.g. Lyman Beecher, in the Spirit of the Pilgrims, i. 1828, pp. 49, 81; cf. also Philip Schaff, "Creeds of Christendom," i. 1877, p. 795.

80. The prevailing view in the Methodist Episcopal Church is probably that infants are all born justified. The difficulties of this view are hinted by a not unfriendly hand in the Cumberland Presbyterian Review for January, 1890, p. 113. The best that can be said toward placing the dying infant "in the same essential condition as that into which the justified and regenerate adult is brought by voluntary faith," may be read from Dr. D. D. Whedon's pen in the Methodist Quarterly Review for 1853, p. 757. It is inconsequent; and its consequences are portentous to Arminianism - or shall we say that God does not determine who are to die in infancy?

81. Cumberland Presbyterian Review, ii. 1890, p. 369; cf. p. 113.

82. Cf. e.g. Andreæ, "Actis Colloq. Montisbelligart," pp. 447, 448; and note Beza's crushing reply.

83. Cf. "Progressive Orthodoxy," 1886, p. 76.

84. Vol. ii. 1889, pp. 90 ff.

85. The Rev. D. Fisk Harris, himself a Congregational minister ("Calvinism Contrary to God's Word and Man's Moral Nature," 1890, p. 107), tells us that a view not essentially differing from Dr. Kedney's "seems to be the prevailing view of Congregationalists." This he states thus: "All dying infants become moral agents after death. Exercising a holy choice they 'are saved on the ground of the atonement and by regeneration"'

Annihilationism

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Reprinted from "The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge," edited by Samuel Macauley Jackson, D.D., LL.D., i. pp. 183-186 (copyright by Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York, 1908).

I. DEFINITION AND CLASSIFICATION OF THEORIES

A term designating broadly a large body of theories which unite in contending that human beings pass, or are put, out of existence altogether. These theories fall logically into three classes, according as they hold that all souls, being mortal, actually cease to exist at death; or that, souls being naturally mortal, only those persist in life to which immortality is given by God; or that, though souls are naturally immortal and persist in existence unless destroyed by a force working upon them from without, wicked souls are actually thus destroyed. These three classes of theories may be conveniently called respectively, (1) pure mortalism, (2) conditional immortality, and (3) annihilationism proper.

II. PURE MORTALISM

The common contention of the theories which form the first of these classes is that human life is bound up with the organism, and that therefore the entire man passes out of being with the dissolution of the organism. The usual basis of this contention is either materialistic or pantheistic or at least pantheizing (e.g. realistic); the soul being conceived in the former case as but a function of organized matter and necessarily ceasing to exist with the dissolution of the organism, in the latter case as but the individualized manifestation of a much more extensive entity, back into which it sinks with the dissolution of the organism in connection with which the individualization takes place. Rarely, however, the contention in question is based on the notion that the soul, although a spiritual entity distinct from the material body, is incapable of maintaining its existence separate from the body. The promise of eternal life is too essential an element of Christianity for theories like these to thrive in a Christian atmosphere. It is even admitted now by Stade, Oort, Schwally, and others that the Old Testament, even in its oldest strata, presupposes the persistence of life after death - which used to be very commonly denied. Nevertheless, the materialists (e.g. Feuerbach, Vogt, Moleschott, Büchner, Häckel) and pantheists (Spinoza, Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Strauss; cf. S. Davidson, "The Doctrine of Last Things," London, 1882, pp. 132-133) still deny the possibility of immortality; and in exceedingly wide circles, even among those who would not wholly break with Christianity, men permit themselves to cherish nothing more than a "hope" of it (S. Hoekstra, "De Hoop der Onsterfelijkheid," Amsterdam, 1867; L. W. E. Rauwenhoff, " Wijsbegeerte van den Godsdienst," Leiden, 1887, p. 811; cf. the "Ingersoll Lectures").

III. CONDITIONAL IMMORTALITY

The class of theories to which the designation of "conditional immortality" is most properly applicable, agree with the theories of pure mortalism in teaching the natural mortality of man in his entirety, but separate from them in maintaining that this mortal may, and in many cases does, put on immortality. Immortality in their view is a gift of God, conferred on those who have entered into living communion with Him. Many theorists of this class adopt frankly the materialistic doctrine of the soul, and deny that it is a distinct entity; they therefore teach that the soul necessarily dies with the body, and identify life beyond death with the resurrection, conceived as essentially a recreation of the entire man. Whether all men are subjects of this recreative resurrection is a mooted question among themselves. Some deny it, and affirm therefore that the wicked perish finally at death, the children of God alone attaining to resurrection. The greater part, however, teach a resurrection for all, and a "second death," which is annihilation, for the wicked (e.g. Jacob Blain, "Death not Life," Buffalo, 1857, pp. 39-42; Aaron Ellis and Thomas Read, "Bible versus Tradition," New York, 1853, pp. 13-121; George Storrs, "Six Sermons," New York, 1856, pp. 29 ft.; Zenas Campbell, "The Age of Gospel Light," Hartford, 1854). There are many, on the other hand, who recognize that the soul is a spiritual entity, disparate to, though conjoined in personal union with, the body. In their view, however, ordinarily at least, the soul requires the body either for its existence, or certainly for its activity. C. F. Hudson, for example ("Debt and Grace," New York, 1861, pp. 263-264), teaches that the soul lies unconscious, or at least inactive, from death to the resurrection; then the just rise to an ecstasy of bliss; the unjust, however, start up at the voice of God to become extinct in the very act. Most, perhaps, prolong the second life of the wicked for the purpose of the infliction of their merited punishment; and some make their extinction a protracted process (e.g. H. L. Hastings, "Retribution or the Doom of the Ungodly," Providence, 1861, pp. 77, 153; cf. Horace Bushnell, "Forgiveness and Law," New York, 1874, p. 147, notes 5 and 6; James Martineau, "A Study of Religion," Oxford, 11888, p. 114). For further discussion of the theory of conditional immortality, see "Immortality."

IV. ANNIHILATIONISM PROPER

Already, however, in speaking of extinction we are passing beyond the limits of "conditionalism" pure and simple and entering the region of annihilationism proper. Whether we think of this extinction as the result of the punishment or as the gradual dying out of the personality under the enfeebling effects of sin, we are no longer looking at the soul as naturally mortal and requiring a new gift of grace to keep it in existence, but as naturally immortal and suffering destruction at the hands of an inimical power. And this becomes even more apparent when the assumed mortalism of the soul is grounded not in its nature but in its sinfulness; so that the theory deals not with souls as such, but with sinful souls, and it is a question of salvation by a gift of grace to everlasting life or of being left to the disintegrating effects of sin. The point of distinction between theories of this class and "conditionalism" is that these theories with more or less consistency or heartiness recognize what is called the "natural immortality of the soul," and are not tempted therefore to think of the soul as by nature passing out of being at death (or at any time), and yet teach that the actual punishment inflicted upon or suffered by the wicked results in extinction of being. They may differ among themselves, as to the time when this extinction takes place - whether at death, or at the general judgment - or as to the more or less extended or intense punishment accorded to the varying guilt of each soul. They may differ also as to the means by which the annihilation of the wicked soul is accomplished - whether by a mere act of divine power, cutting off the sinful life, or by the destructive fury of the punishment inflicted, or by the gradual enervating and sapping working of sin itself on the personality. They retain their common character as theories of annihilation proper so long as they conceive the extinction of the soul as an effect wrought on it to which it succumbs, rather than as the natural exit of the soul from a life which could be continued to it only by some operation upon it raising it to a higher than its natural potency.

V. MINGLING OF THEORIES

It must be borne in mind that the adherents of these two classes of theories are not very careful to keep strictly within the logical limits of one of the classes. Convenient as it is to approach their study with a definite schematization in hand, it is not always easy to assign individual writers with definiteness to one or the other of them. It has become usual, therefore, to speak of them all as annihilationists or of them all as conditionalists; annihilationists because they all agree that the souls of the wicked cease to exist; conditionalists because they all agree that therefore persistence in life is conditioned on a right relation to God. Perhaps the majority of those who call themselves conditionalists allow that the mortality of the soul, which is the prime postulate of the conditionalist theory, is in one way or another connected with sin; that the souls of the wicked persist in existence after death and even after the judgment, in order to receive the punishment due their sin; and that this punishment, whether it be conceived as infliction from without or as the simple consequence of sin, has much to do with their extinction. When so held, conditionalism certainly falls little short of annihilationism proper.

VI. EARLY HISTORY OF ANNIHILATIONISTIC THEORIES

Some confusion has arisen, in tracing the history of the annihilationist theories, from confounding with them enunciations by the earlier Church Fathers of the essential Christian doctrine that the soul is not self-existent, but owes, as its existence, so its continuance in being, to the will of God. The earliest appearance of a genuinely annihilationist theory in extant Christian literature is to be found apparently in the African apologist Arnobius, at the opening of the fourth century (cf. Salmond, "The Christian Doctrine of Immortality," Edinburgh, 1901, pp. 473--474; Falke, "Die Lehre von der ewigen Verdammnis," Eisenach, 1892, pp. 27-28). It seemed to him impossible that beings such as men could either owe their being directly to God or persist in being without a special gift of God; the unrighteous must therefore be gradually consumed in the fires of Gehenna. A somewhat similar idea was announced by the Socinians in the sixteenth century (O. Fock, "Der Socinianismus," Kiel, 1847, pp. 714 ff.). On the positive side, Faustus Socinus himself thought that man is mortal by nature and attains immortality only by grace. On the negative side, his followers (Crell, Schwaltz, and especially Ernst Sohner) taught explicitly that the second death consists in annihilation, which takes place, however, only after the general resurrection, at the final judgment. From the Socinians this general view passed over to England where it was adopted, not merely, as might have been anticipated, by men like Locke ("Reasonableness of Christianity," § 1), Hobbes ("Leviathan"), and Whiston, but also by Churchmen like Hammond and Warburton, and was at least played with by non-conformist leaders like Isaac Watts. The most remarkable example of its utilization in this age, however, is supplied by the non-juror Henry Dodwell (1706). Insisting that the "soul is a principle naturally mortal," Dodwell refused to allow the benefit of this mortality to any but those who lived and died without the limits of the proclamation of the gospel; no "adult person whatever," he insisted, "living where Christianity is professed, and the motives of its credibility are sufficiently proposed, can hope for the benefit of actual mortality." Those living in Christian lands are therefore all immortalized, but in two classes: some "by the pleasure of God to punishment," some "to reward by their union with the divine baptismal Spirit." It was part of his contention that "none have the power of giving this divine immortalizing Spirit since the apostles but the bishops only," so that his book was rather a blast against the antiprelatists than a plea for annihilationism; and it was replied to as such by Samuel Clarke (1706), Richard Baxter (1707), and Daniel Whitby (1707). During the eighteenth century the theory was advocated also on the continent of Europe (e.g. E. J. K. Walter, "Prüfung wichtiger Lehren theologischen und philosophischen Inhalts," Berlin, 1782), and almost found a martyr in the Neuchâtel pastor, Ferdinand Olivier Petitpierre, commonly spoken of by the nickname of "No Eternity" (cf. C. Berthoud, "Les quatre Petitpierres," Neuchâtel, 1875). In the first half of the nineteenth century also it found sporadic adherents, as e.g. C. H. Weisse in Germany (Theoloqische Studien und Kritiken, ix. 1836, pp. 271-340) and H. H. Dobney in England ("Notes of Lectures on Future Punishment," London, 1844; new edition, "On the Scripture Doctrine of Future Punishment," 1846).

VII. NINETEENTH CENTURY THEORIES

The real extension of the theory belongs, however, only to the second half of the nineteenth century. During this period it attained, chiefly through the able advocacy of it by C. F. Hudson and E. White, something like a popular vogue in English-speaking lands. In French-speaking countries, while never becoming really popular, it has commanded the attention of an influential circle of theologians and philosophers (as J. Rognon, "L'Immortalité native et l'enseignement biblique," Montauban, 1894, p. 7; but cf. A. Gretillat, "Exposé de théologie systématique," Paris, iv. 1890, p. 602). In Germany, on the other hand, it has met with less acceptance, although it is precisely there that it has been most scientifically developed, and has received the adherence of the most outstanding names. Before the opening of this half century, in fact, it had gained the great support of Richard Rothe's advocacy ("Theologische Ethik," 3 vols., Wittenberg, 1845-1848; ed. 2, 5 vols., 1867-1871, §§ 470-472; "Dogmatik," Heidelberg, II. ii. 1870, §§ 47-48, especially p. 158), and never since has it ceased to find adherents of mark, who base their acceptance of it sometimes on general grounds, but increasingly on the view that the Scriptures teach, not a doctrine of the immortality of the soul, but a reanimation by resurrection of God's people. The chief names in this series are C. H. Weisse ("Philosophische Dogmatik," Leipzig, 1855-1862, § 970); Hermann Schultz ("Voraussetzungen der christlichen Lehre von der Unsterblichkeit," Göttingen, 1861, p. 155; cf. "Grundriss der evangelischen Dogmatik," 1892, p. 154: "This condemnation of the second death may in itself, according to the Bible, be thought of as existence in torment, or as painful cessation of existence. Dogmatics without venturing to decide, will find the second conception the more probable, biblically and dogmatically"); H. Plitt ("Evangelische Glaubenslehre," Gotha, 1863); F. Brandes (Theologische Studien und Kritiken, 1872, pp. 545, 550); A. Schäffer ("Auf der Neige des Lebens," Gotha, 1884; "Was ist Glück?" 1891, pp. 290-294); G. Runze ("Unsterblichkeit und Auferstehung," Berlin, i. 1894, pp. 167, 204: "Christian Eschatology teaches not a natural immortality for the soul, but a reanimation by God's almighty power. . . . The Christian hope of reanimation makes the actualization of a future blessed existence depend entirely on faith in God"); L. Lemme ("Endlosigkeit der Verdammnis," Berlin, 1899, pp. 31-32,60-61); cf. R. Kabisch ("Die Eschatologie des Paulus," Göttingen, 1893).

The same general standpoint has been occupied in Holland, for example, by Jonker (Theologische Studiën, i.). The first advocate of conditionalism in French was the Swiss pastor, E. Pétavel-Olliff, whose first book, "La Fin du mal," appeared in 1872 (Paris), followed by many articles in the French theological journals and by "Le Problème de l'immortalité" (1891; E. T. London, 1892), and "The Extinction of Evil" (E. T. 1889). In 1880 C. Byse issued a translation of E. White's chief book. The theory not only had already been presented by A. Bost ("Le Sort des méchants," 1861), but had been taken up by philosophers of such standing as C. Lambert ("Le Système du monde moral," 1862), P. Janet (Revue des deux mondes, 1863), and C. Renouvier ("La Critique philosophique," 1878) ; and soon afterward Charles Secretan and C. Ribot (Revue theoloqique, 1885, No. 1) expressed their general adherence to it. Perhaps the more distinguished advocacy of it on French ground has come, however, from the two professors Sabatier, Auguste and Armand, the one from the point of view of exegetical, the other from that of natural science. Says the one ("L'Origine du péché dans le système théologique de Paul," Paris, 1887, p. 38): "The impenitent sinner never emerges from the fleshly state, and consequently remains subject to the law of corruption and destruction, which rules fleshly beings; they perish and are as if they had never been." Says the other ("Essai sur l'immortalité au point de vue du naturalisme évolutioniste," ed. 2, Paris, 1895, pp. 198, 229): "The immortality of man is not universal and necessary; it is subject to certain conditions, it is conditional, to use an established expression." "Ultraterrestrial immortality will be the exclusive lot of souls which have arrived at a sufficient degree of integrity and cohesion to escape absorption or disintegration."

VIII. ENGLISH ADVOCATES

The chief English advocate of conditional immortality has undoubtedly been Edward White whose "Life in Christ" was published first in 1846 (London), rewritten in 1875 (ed. 3, 1878). His labors were seconded, however, not only by older works of similar tendency such as George Storrs's "Are the Wicked Immortal?" (ed. 21, New York, 1852), but by later teaching from men of the standing of Archbishop Whately ("Scripture Revelations concerning a Future State," ed. 8, London, 1859), Bishop Hampden, J. B. Heard ("The Tripartite Nature of Man," ed. 4, Edinburgh, 1875), Prebendary Constable ("The Duration and Nature of Future Punishment," London, 1868), Prebendary Row ("Future Retribution," London, 1887), J. M. Denniston ("The Perishing Soul," ed. 2, London, 1874), S. Minton ("The Glory of Christ," London, 1868), J. W. Barlow ("Eternal Punishment," Cambridge, 1865), and T. Davis ("Endless Suffering not the Doctrine of Scripture," London, 1866). Less decisive but not less influential advocacy has been given to the theory also by men like Joseph Parker, R. W. Dale, and J. A. Beet ("The Last Things," London, 1897). Mr. Beet (who quotes Clemance, "Future Punishment," London, 1880, as much of his way of thinking) occupies essentially the position of Schultz. "he sacred writers," he says, "while apparently inclining sometimes to one and sometimes to the other, do not pronounce decisive judgment" between eternal punishment and annihilation (p. 216), while annihilation is free from speculative objections. In America C. F. Hudson's initial efforts ("Debt and Grace," Boston, 1857, ed. 5, 1859; "Christ Our Life," 1860) were ably seconded by W. R. Huntington ("Conditional Immortality," New York, 1878) and J. H. Pettingell ("The Life Everlasting," Philadelphia, 1882, combining two previously published tractates; "The Unspeakable Gift," Yarmouth, Me., 1884). Views of much the same character have been expressed also by Horace Bushnell, L. W. Bacon, L. C. Baker, Lyman Abbott, and without much insistence on them by Henry C. Sheldon ("System of Christian Doctrine," Cincinnati, 1903, pp. 573 ff.).

IX. MODIFICATIONS OF THE THEORY

There is a particular form of conditionalism requiring special mention which seeks to avoid the difficulties of annihilationism, by teaching, not the total extinction of the souls of the wicked, but rather, as it is commonly phrased, their "transformation" into impersonal beings incapable of moral action, or indeed of any feeling. This is the form of conditionalism which is suggested by James Martineau ("A Study of Religion," Oxford, ii. 1888, p. 114) and by Horace Bushnell ("Forgiveness and Law," New York, 1874, p. 147, notes 5 and 6). It is also hinted by Henry Drummond ("Natural Law in the Spiritual World," London, 1884), when he supposes the lost soul to lose not salvation merely but the capacity for it and for God; so that what is left is no longer fit to be called a soul, but is a shrunken, useless organ ready to fall away like a rotten twig. The Alsatian theologian A. Schaffer ("Was ist Glück?" Gotha, 1891, pp. 290-294) similarly speaks of the wicked soul losing the light from heaven, the divine spark which gave it its value, and the human personality thereby becoming obliterated. "The forces out of which it arises break up and become at last again impersonal. They do not pass away, but they are transformed." One sees the conception here put forward at its highest level in such a view as that presented by Professor O. A. Curtis ("The Christian Faith," New York, 1905, p. 467), which thinks of the lost not, to be sure, as "crushed into mere thinghood" but as sunk into a condition "below the possibility of any moral action, or moral concern . . . like persons in this life when personality is entirely overwhelmed by the base sense of what we call physical fear." There is no annihilation in Professor Curtis' view; not even relief for the lost from suffering; but it may perhaps be looked at as marking the point where the theories of annihilationism reach up to and melt at last into the doctrine of eternal punishment.

BIBLIOGRAPHY: An exhaustive bibliography of the subject up to 1862 is given in Ezra Abbot's Appendix to W. R. Alger's "Critical History of the Doctrine of a Future Life," also published separately, New York, 1871; consult also W. Reid, "Everlasting Punishment and Modern Speculation," Edinburgh, 1874, pp. 311-313. Special works on annihilationism are J. C. Killam, "Annihilationism Examined," Syracuse, 1859; I. P. Warren, "The Wicked not Annihilated," New York, 1867; N. D. George, "Annihilationism not of the Bible," Boston, 1870; J. B. Brown, "The Doctrine of Annihilation in the Light of the Gospel of Love," London, 1875; S. C. Bartlett, "Life and Death Eternal: A Refutation of the Theory of Annihilation," Boston, 1878. The subject is treated in S. D. F. Salmond, "The Christian Doctrine of Immortality," Edinburgh, 1901, pp. 473-499; R. W. Landis, "The Immortality of the Soul," New York, 1868, pp. 422 ff.; A. Hovey, "The State of the Impenitent Dead," Boston, 1859, pp. 93 ff.; C. M. Mead, "The Soul Here and Hereafter," Boston, 1879; G. Godet, in Chrétien évangélique, 1881-1882; F. Godet, in Revue théologique, 1886; J. Fyfe, "The Hereafter," Edinburgh, 1890; R. Falke, "Die Lehre von der ewigen Verdammnis," Eisenach, 1892, pp. 25-38. On conditional immortality, consult W. R. Huntington, "Conditional Immortality," New York, 1878; J. H. Pettingell, "The Theological Tri-lemma," New York, 1878; idem, "The Life Everlasting: What is it? Whence is it? Whose is it? A Symposium," Philadelphia, 1882; E. White, "Life and Death: A Reply to J. B. Brown's Lectures on Conditional Immortality," London, 1877; idem, "Life in Christ: A Study of the Scripture Doctrine on ... the Conditions of Human Immortality," London, 1878. Further discussions may be found in the appropriate sections of most works on systematic theology and also in works on eschatology and future punishment. See, besides the works mentioned in the text, the literature under "Immortality."

The Theology of the Reformation

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Reprinted from The Biblical Review, ii. 1917, pp. 490-512 (published by The Biblical Seminary in New York; copyrighted).

Charles Beard begins his Hibbert Lectures on The Reformation with these words: "To look upon the Reformation of the sixteenth century as only the substitution of one set of theological doctrines for another, or the cleansing of the Church from notorious abuses and corruptions, or even a return of Christianity to something like primitive purity and simplicity - is to take an inadequate view of its nature and importance." He wishes us to make note of the far-reaching changes in human life which have been wrought by what we call the Reformation, to observe the numerous departments of activity which have been at least affected by it, and then to seek its cause in something as wide in its extension as its effects. He himself discovers this cause in the "general awakening of the human intellect," which had begun in the fourteenth century and was being "urged on with accelerating rapidity in the fifteenth." In his view the Reformation was merely the religious side of what we speak of as the Renaissance. "It was the life of the Renaissance," he affirms, "infused into religion under the influence of men of the grave and earnest Teutonic race." He even feels justified in saying that, in the view he takes of it, the Reformation "was not, primarily, a theological, a religious, an ecclesiastical movement at all."

That there is some exaggeration in this representation is obvious. That this exaggeration is due to defective analysis is as clear. And the suspicion lies very near that the defect in analysis has its root in an imperfect sense of values. To point us to the general awakening of the human intellect which was in progress in the fifteenth century is not to uncover a cause; it is only to describe a condition. To remind us that, as a result of this awakening of the human intellect, a lively sense had long existed of the need of a reformation, and repeated attempts had been vainly made to effect it, that men everywhere were fully alive to the corruption of manners and morals in which the world was groveling, and were equally helpless to correct it, is not to encourage us to find the cause of the Reformation in a general situation out of which no reformation had through all these years come. The question which presses is: Whence came the power which achieved the effect - an effect apparently far beyond the power of the forces working on the surface of things to achieve?

There is no use in seeking to cover up the facts under depreciatory forms of statement. It is easy to talk contemptuously of the "substitution of one set of theological doctrines for another," as it would be easy to talk contemptuously of the substitution of one set of political or of sanitary doctrines for another. The force of the perverse suggestion lies in keeping the matter in the abstract. The proof of the pudding in such things lies in the eating. No doubt it is possible to talk indifferently of merely working the permutations of a dial-lock, regardless of the not unimportant circumstance that one of these permutations differs from the rest in this - that it shoots the bolts. The substitution of one set of theological doctrines for another which took place at the Reformation was the substitution of a set of doctrines which had the promise and potency of life in them for a set of doctrines the issue of which had been death. What happened at the Reformation, by means of which the forces of life were set at work through the seething, struggling mass, was the revival of vital Christianity; and this is the vera causa of all that has come out of that great revolution, in all departments of life. Men, no doubt, had long been longing and seeking after "a return of Christianity to something like primitive purity and simplicity." This was the way that an Erasmus, for example, pictured to himself the needs of his time. The difficulty was that, rather repelled by the Christianity they knew than attracted by Christianity in its primitive purity - of the true nature of which they really had no idea - they were simply feeling out in the dark. What Luther did was to rediscover vital Christianity and to give it afresh to the world. To do this was to put the spark to the train. We are feeling the explosion yet.

The Reformation was then - we insist upon it - precisely the substitution of one set of theological doctrines for another. That is what it was to Luther; and that is what, through Luther, it has been to the Christian world. Exactly what Luther did was for himself - for the quieting of his aroused conscience and the healing of his deepened sense of sin - to rediscover the great fact, the greatest of all the great facts of which sinful man can ever become aware, that salvation is by the pure grace of God alone. O, but, you will say, that resulted from Luther's religious experience. No, we answer, it was primarily a doctrinal discovery of Luther's - the discovery of a doctrine apart from which, and prior to the discovery of which, Luther did not have and could never have had his religious experience. He had been taught another doctrine, a doctrine which had been embodied in a popular maxim, current in his day: Do the best you can, and God will see you through. He had tried to live that doctrine, and could not do it; he could not believe it. He has told us of his despair. He has told us how this despair grew deeper and deeper, until he was raised out of it precisely by his discovery of his new doctrine - that it is God and God alone who in His infinite grace saves us, that He does it all, and that we supply nothing but the sinners to be saved and the subsequent praises which our grateful hearts lift to Him, our sole and only Saviour. This is a radically different doctrine from that; and it produced radically different effects on Luther; Luther the monk and Luther the Reformer are two different men. And it has produced radically different effects in the world; the medieval world and the modern world are two different worlds. The thing that divides them is the new doctrine that Luther found in the monastery at Wittenberg - or was it already at Erfurt? - poring over the great declaration in the first chapter of the Epistle to the Romans: "The righteous shall live by faith." Émile Doumergue puts the whole story into a sentence: "Two radically different religions give birth to two radically different civilizations."

Luther himself knew perfectly well that what he had done for himself, and what he would fain do for the world, was just to substitute a new doctrine for that old one in which neither he nor the world could find life. So he came forward as a teacher, as a dogmatic teacher, as a dogmatic teacher who gloried in his dogmatism. He was not merely seeking for truth; he had the truth. He did not make tentative suggestions to the world for its consideration; what he dealt in was - so he liked to call them - "assertions." This was naturally a mode of procedure very offensive to a man of polite letters, like Erasmus, say, who knew of nothing that men of culture could not sit around a well-furnished table and discuss together pleasurably with open minds. "I have so little stomach for 'assertions,'" he says, striking directly at Luther, "that I could easily go over to the opinion of the sceptics - wherever," he smugly adds, "it were allowed me by the inviolable authority of the Sacred Scriptures and the decrees of the Church, to which I everywhere submit, whether I follow what is presented or not." For this his Oliver he certainly got more than a Roland from Luther. For Luther takes occasion from this remark to read Erasmus a much-needed lecture on the place of dogma in Christianity. To say you have no pleasure in "assertions," he says, is all one with saying you are not a Christian. Take away "assertions," and you take away Christianity. No Christian could endure to have "assertions" despised, since that would be nothing else than to deny at once all religion and piety, or to declare that religion and piety and every dogma are nothing. Christian doctrines are not to be put on a level with human opinions. They are divinely given to us in Holy Scripture to form the molds in which Christian lives are to run.

We are in the presence here of what is known as the formal principle of the Reformation. The fundamental meaning of it is that the Reformation was primarily, like all great revolutions, a revolution in the realm of ideas. Was it not a wise man who urged us long ago to give especial diligence to keeping our hearts (the heart is the cognitive faculty in Scripture), on the express ground that out of them are the issues of life? The battle of the Reformation was fought out under a banner on which the sole authority of Scripture was inscribed. But the principle of the sole authority of Scripture was not to the Reformation an abstract principle. What it was interested in was what is taught in Scripture; and the sole authority of Scripture meant to it the sole authority of what is taught in Scripture. This of course is dogma; and the dogma which the men of the Reformation found taught in Scripture above every other dogma, so much above every other dogma that in it is summed up all the teaching of Scripture, is the sole efficiency of God in salvation. This is what we call the material principle of the Reformation. It was not at first known by the name of justification by faith alone, but it was from the first passionately embraced as renunciation of all human works and dependence on the grace of God alone for salvation. In it the Reformation lived and moved and had its being; in a high sense of the words, it is the Reformation.

The confusion would be ludicrous, if it were not rather pathetic, by which the correction of abuses in the life whether of the Church or of society at-large, is confounded with the Reformation. Luther knew perfectly well from the beginning where the center of his Reformation lay, and did not for a moment confound its peripheral effects with it. Here, indeed, lay the precise difference between him and the other reformers of the time - those other reformers who could not reform. Erasmus, for example, was as clear of eye as Luther to see, and as outspoken as Luther to condemn, the crying abuses of the day. But he conceived the task of reform as a purely negative one. The note of his reform was simplicity; he wished to return to the "simplicity of the Christian life," and, as a means to that, to the "simplicity of doctrine." He was content with a process of stripping off, and he expected to reach the kernel of true Christianity merely by thoroughly removing the husk which at the moment covered and concealed it. The assumption being that true Christianity lay behind and beneath the corruptions of the day, no restoration was needed, only uncovering. When he came to do the stripping, it is true, Erasmus found no stopping-place; he stripped not only to the bone but through the bone, and nothing was left in his hand but a "philosophy of Christ," which was a mere moralism. Peter Canisius, looking at it formally, calls it not inaptly, "the theology of Pyrrhus." Luther, judging it from the material standpoint, says Erasmus has made "a gospel of Pelagius." Thus at all events Erasmus at once demonstrated that beneath the immense fabric of medieval Christianity there lay as its sustaining core nothing but a bald moralism; and by dragging this moralism out and labeling it "simple Christianity," has made himself the father of that great multitude in our day who, crying: Back to Christ! have reduced Christianity to the simple precept: Be good and it will be well with you.

In sharp contrast with these negative reformers Luther came forward with a positive gospel in his hands; "a new religion" his adversaries called it then, as their descendants call it now, and they call it so truly. He was not particularly interested in the correction of abuses, though he hewed at them manfully when they stood in his way. To speak the whole truth, this necessary work bored him a little. He saw no pure gospel beneath them which their removal would uncover and release. He knew that his new gospel, once launched, had power of itself to abolish them. What his heart was aflame with was the desire to launch this new gospel; to substitute it, the gospel of grace, for the gospel of works, on which alone men were being fed. In that substitution consisted his whole Reformation.

In his detailed answer to the Bull of Excommunication, published against him in 1520, in which forty-one propositions from his writings were condemned, Luther shows plainly enough where the center of controversy lay for him. It was in the article in which he asserts the sole efficiency of grace in salvation. He makes his real appeal to Scripture, of course, but he does not neglect to point out also that he has Augustine with him and also experience. He scoffs at his opponents' pretensions to separate themselves from the Pelagians by wire-drawn distinctions between works of congruity and works of condignity. If we may secure grace by works, he says, it means nothing that we carefully name these works works of congruity and refrain from calling them works of condignity. "For what is the difference," he cries, "if you deny that grace is from our works and yet teach that it is through our works? The impious sense remains that grace is held to be given not gratis but on account of our works. For the Pelagians did not teach and do any other works on account of which they expected grace to be given than you teach and do. They are the works of the same free will and the same members, although you and they give them different names. They are the same fasting and prayers and almsgiving - but you call them works congruous to grace, they works condign to grace. The same Pelagians remain victors in both cases."

What Luther is zealous for, it will be seen, is the absolute exclusion of works from salvation, and the casting of the soul wholly upon the grace of God. He rises to full eloquence as he approaches the end of his argument, pushing his adversaries fairly to the ropes. "For when they could not deny that we must be saved by the grace of God," he exclaims, "and could not elude this truth, then impiety sought out another way of escape - pretending that, although we cannot save ourselves, we can nevertheless prepare for being saved by God's grace. What glory remains to God, I ask, if we are able to procure that we shall be saved by His grace? Does this seem a small ability - that he who has no grace shall nevertheless have power enough to obtain grace when he wishes? What is the difference between that, and saying with the Pelagians that we are saved without grace - since you place the grace of God within the power of man's will? You seem to me to be worse than Pelagius, since you put in the power of man the necessary grace of God, the necessity of which he simply denied. I say, it seems less impious wholly to deny grace than to represent it as secured by our zeal and effort, and to put it thus in our power."

This tremendous onslaught prepares the way for a notable declaration in which Luther makes perfectly clear how he thought of his work as a reformer and the relative importance which he attached to the several matters in controversy. Rome taught, with whatever finessing, salvation by works; he knew and would know nothing but salvation by grace, or, as he phrases it here, nothing but Christ and Him crucified. It was the cross that Rome condemned in him; for it was the cross and it alone in which he put his trust. "In all the other articles," he says - that is to say, all the others of the forty-one propositions which had been condemned in the Bull - "those concerning the Papacy, Councils, Indulgences, and other nonnecessary trifles (nugae!)" - this is the way in which he enumerates them - "the levity and folly of the Pope and his followers may be endured. But in this article," - that is, the one on free will and grace - "which is the best of all and the sum of our matter, we must grieve and weep over the insanity of these miserable men." It is on this article, then, that for him the whole conflict turns as on its hinge. He wishes he could write more largely upon it. For more than three hundred years none, or next to none, have written in favor of grace; and there is no subject which is in so great need of treatment as this. "And I have often wished," he adds, "passing by these frivolous Papist trifles and brawls (nugis et negotiis), which have nothing to do with the Church but to destroy it - to deal with this."

His opportunity to do so came when, four years afterward (1524), Erasmus, egged on by his patrons and friends, and taking his start from this very discussion, published his charmingly written book, "On Free Will." It is the great humanist's greatest book, elegant in style, suave in tone, delicate in suggestion, winning in its appeal; and it presents with consummate skill the case for the Romish teaching against which Luther had thrown himself. Separating himself as decisively if not as fundamentally on the one side from Pelagius and Scotus - in another place he speaks with distaste of "Scotus his bristling and prickly soul" - as on the other from the reformers - he has Carlstadt and Luther especially in mind  - Erasmus attaches himself to what he calls, in accordance with the point of view of his time, the Augustinian doctrine; that is to say, to the synergism of the scholastics, perhaps most nearly in the form in which it had been taught by Alexander of Hales, and at all events practically as it was soon to be authoritatively defined as the doctrine of the Church by the Council of Trent. To this subtle doctrine he gives its most attractive statement and weaves around it the charm of his literary grace. Luther was not insensible to the beauty of the book. He says the voice of Erasmus in it sounded to him like the song of a nightingale. But he was in search of substance, not form, and he felt bound to confess that his experience in reading the book was much that of the wolf in the fable, who, ravished by the song of a nightingale, could not rest till he had caught and greedily devoured it - only to remark disgustedly afterward: "Vox, et praeterea nihil."

The refinements of Erasmus' statements were lost on Luther. What he wished - and nothing else would content him - was a clear and definite acknowledgment that the work of salvation is of the grace of God alone, and man contributes nothing whatever to it. This acknowledgment Erasmus could not make. The very purpose for which he was writing was to vindicate for man a part, and that the decisive part, in his own salvation. He might magnify the grace of God in the highest terms. He might protest that he too held that without the grace of God no good thing could be done by man, so that grace is the beginning and the middle and the end of salvation. But when pressed to the wall he was forced to allow that, somewhere in "the middle," an action of man came in, and that this action of man was the decisive thing that determined his salvation. He might minimize this action of man to the utmost. He might point out that it was a very, very little thing which he retained to human powers - only, as one might say, that man must push the button and grace had to do the rest. This did not satisfy Luther. Nothing would satisfy him but that all of salvation - every bit of it - should be attributed to the grace of God alone.

Luther even made Erasmus' efforts to reduce man's part in salvation to as little as possible, while yet retaining it at the decisive point, the occasion of scoffing. Instead of escaping Pelagianism by such expedients, he says, Erasmus and his fellow sophists cast themselves more deeply into the vat and come out double-dyed Pelagians. The Pelagians are at least honest with themselves and us. They do not palter, in a double sense, with empty distinctions between works of condignity and works of congruity. They call a spade a spade and say candidly that merit is merit. And they do not belittle our salvation by belittling the works by which we merit it. We do not hear from them that we merit saving grace by something "very little, almost nothing." They hold salvation precious; and warn us that if we are to gain it, it can be at the cost only of great effort - "tota, plena, perfecta, magna et multa studia et opera." If we will fall into error in such a matter, says Luther, at least let us not cheapen the grace of God, and treat it as something vile and contemptible. What he means is that the attempted compromise, while remaining Pelagian in principle, yet loses the high ethical position of Pelagianism. Seeking some middle-place between grace and works, and fondly congratulating itself that it retains both, it merely falls between the stools and retains neither. It depends as truly as Pelagianism on works, but reduces these works on which it nevertheless depends to a vanishing-point. In thus suspending salvation on "some little thing, almost nothing," says Luther, it "denies the Lord Christ who has bought us, more than the Pelagians ever denied Him, or any heretics."

To the book in which Luther replied to Erasmus' "On Free Will," matching Erasmus' title, he gives the name of "On the Enslaved Will." Naturally, the flowing purity of the great humanist's Latinity and the flexible grace of his style are not to be found here. But the book is written in sufficiently good Latin - plain and strong and straightforward. Luther evidently took unusual pains with it, and it more than makes up for any lack of literary charm it may show by the fertility of its thought and the amazing vigor of its language. A. Freitag, its latest editor, characterizes it briefly, in one great word, as an "exploit" (Grosstat), and Sodeur does not scruple to describe it roundly as "a dialectic and polemic masterpiece"; its words have hands and feet. Its real distinction, however, is to be sought in a higher region than these things. It is the embodiment of Luther's reformation conceptions, the nearest to a systematic statement of them he ever made. It is the first exposition of the fundamental ideas of the Reformation in comprehensive presentation, and it is therefore in a true sense the manifesto of the Reformation. It was so that Luther himself looked upon it. It was not because he admired it as a piece of "mere literature" that he always thought of it as an achievement. It was because it contained the doctrinae evangelicae caput - the very head and principle of the evangelical teaching. He could well spare all that he had ever written, he wrote to Capito in 1537, let them all go, except the "On the Enslaved Will" and the "Catechism"; they only are right (justum). He is reported in the "Table Talk" (Lauterbach-Aurifaber) to have referred once to Erasmus' rejoinder to the book. He did not admit that Erasmus had confuted it; he did not admit that Erasmus ever could confute it, no, not to all eternity. "That I know full well," he said, "and I defy the devil and all his wiles to confute it. For I am certain that it is the unchangeable truth of God." He who touches this doctrine, he says again, touches the apple of his eye.

We may be sure that Luther wrote this book con amore. It was not easy for him to write it when he wrote it. That was the year (1525) of the Peasants' Revolt; and what that was in the way of distraction and care, anguish of mind and soul, all know. It was also the year of his marriage, and has he not told us with his engaging frankness that, during the first year of his married life, Katie always sat by him as he worked, trying to think up questions to ask him? But what he was writing down in this book he was not thinking out as he wrote. He was pouring out upon the page the heart of the heart of his gospel, and he was doing it in the exulting confidence that it was not his gospel merely but the gospel of God. He thanks Erasmus for giving him, by selecting this theme to attack him upon, a respite from the wearing, petty strifes that were being thrust continually upon him, and thus enabling him to speak for once directly to the point. "I exceedingly praise and laud this in you," he writes at the end of his book, "that you alone, in contrast with all others, have attacked the thing itself, that is, the top of the question (summam caussae), and have not fatigued me with those irrelevant questions about the papacy, purgatory, indulgences and such like trumperies (nugae) rather than questions - in which hitherto all have vainly sought to pursue me. You and you alone have seen the hinge of things and have aimed at the throat; and for this I thank you heartily."

It was in no light, however buoyant, spirit, however, that Luther entered upon the discussion. In a very moving context he writes: "I tell you and I beg you to let it sink into the depths of your mind - I am seeking in this matter something that is solemn, and necessary, and eternal to me, of such sort and so great that it must be asserted and defended at the cost of death itself - yea, if the whole world should not only be cast into strife and tumult, but even should be reduced to chaos and dissolved into nothingness. For by God's grace I am not so foolish and mad that I could be willing for the sake of money (which I neither have nor wish), or of glory (a thing I could not obtain if I wished it, in a world so incensed against me), or of the life of the body (of which I cannot be sure for a moment), to carry on and sustain this matter so long, with so much fortitude and so much constancy (you call it obstinacy), through so many perils to my life, through so much hatred, through so many snares - in short through the fury of men and devils. Do you think that you alone have a heart disturbed by these tumults? I am not made of stone either, nor was I either born of the Marpesian rocks. But since it cannot be done otherwise, I prefer to be battered in this tumult, joyful in the grace of God, for the sake of the word of God which must be asserted with invincible and incorruptible courage, rather than in eternal tumult to be ground to powder in intolerable torment under the wrath of God." This was the spirit in which Luther sustained his thesis of "the enslaved will." It is the spirit of "Woe is unto me if I preach not the gospel." It is the gospel which he has in his hands, the gospel for the world's salvation, and necessity is laid upon him to preach it.

The gospel which Luther had it thus in his heart to preach was, to put it shortly, the gospel of salvation through the grace of God alone. There are two foci around which this gospel revolves: the absolute helplessness of man in his sin; the sole efficiency of grace in salvation. These complementary propositions are given expression theologically in the doctrines of the inability of sinful man to good, and of the creative operation of saving grace. It is the inability of sinful man to good that Luther means by his phrase "the enslaved will." Neither he nor Erasmus was particularly interested in the psychology of the will. We may learn incidentally that he held to the view which has come to be called philosophical determinism, or moral necessity. But we learn that only incidentally. Neither he nor Erasmus was concerned with the mechanism of the will's activity, if we may be allowed this mode of speech. They were absorbed in the great problem of the power of sinful man to good. Erasmus had it in mind to show that sinful man has the power to do good things, things so good that they have merit in the sight of God, and that man's salvation depends on his doing them. Luther had it in his heart to show that sinful man, just because he is sinful and sin is no light evil but destroys all goodness, has no power to do anything that is good in God's sight, and therefore is dependent utterly on God's grace alone for salvation. This is to say, Luther was determined to deal seriously with sin, with original sin, with the fall, with the deep corruption of heart which comes from the fall, with the inability to good which is the result of this corruption of heart. He branded the teaching that man can save himself, or do anything looking to his own salvation, as a hideous lie, and "he launched point-blank his dart at the head of this lie - taught original sin, the corruption of man's heart."

Erasmus, of course, does not fail to put his finger on the precise point of Luther's contention. He complains of the new teachers that they "immensely exaggerate original sin, representing even the noblest powers of human nature as so corrupt that of itself it can do nothing but ignore and hate God, and not even one who has been justified by the grace of faith can effect any work which is not sin; they make that tendency to sin in us, which has been transmitted to us from our first parents to be itself sin, and that so invincibly sin that there is no commandment of God which even a man who has been justified by faith can keep, but all the commandments of God serve no other end than to enhance the grace of God, which bestows salvation without regard to merits." It outraged him, as it has outraged all who feel with him up to to-day - as, for example, Hartmann Grisar - that Luther so grossly overdraws the evil of "concupiscence," and thus does despite to that human nature which God created in His own image. Luther was compelled to point out over and over again that he was not talking about human nature and its powers, but about sin and grace. We have not had to wait for Erasmus to tell us, he says, "that a man has eyes and nose, and ears, and bones, and hands - and a mind and a will and a reason," and that it is because he has these things that he is a man; he would not be a man without them. We could not talk of sin with reference to him, had he not these things; nor of grace either - for does not even the proverb say: "God did not make heaven for geese"? Let us leave human nature and its powers to one side then; they are all presupposed. The point of importance is that man is now a sinner. And the point in dispute is whether sinful man can be, at will, not sinful; whether he can do by nature what it requires grace to do. Luther does not depreciate human nature; his opponents depreciate the baleful power of sin, the necessity for a creative operation of grace; and because they depreciate both sin and grace they expect man in his own powers to do what God alone, the Almighty Worker, can do.

He draws out his doctrine here in a long parallel. "As a man, before he is created, to be a man, does nothing and makes no effort to be a creature; and then, after he has been made and created, does nothing and makes no effort to continue a creature; but both these things alike are done solely by the will of the omnipotent power and goodness of God who without our aid creates and preserves us - but He does not operate in us without our cooperation, seeing that He created and preserved us for this very purpose, that He might operate in us and we cooperate with Him, whether this is done outside His kingdom by general omnipotence, or within His kingdom by the singular power of His Spirit: So then we say that a man before he is renovated into a new creature of the kingdom of the Spirit, does nothing and makes no effort to prepare himself for that renovation and kingdom; and then, after he has been renovated, does nothing, makes no effort to continue in that kingdom; but the Spirit alone does both alike in us, recreating us without our aid, and preserving us when recreated, as also James says, 'Of His own will begat He us by the word of His power, that we should be the beginning of His creation' (he is speaking of the renewed creature), but He does not operate apart from us, seeing that He has recreated and preserved us for this very purpose that He might operate in us and we cooperate with Him. Thus through us He preaches, has pity on the poor, consoles the afflicted. But what, then, is attributed to free will? Or rather what is left to it except nothing? Assuredly just nothing." What this parallel teaches is that the whole saving work is from God, in the beginning and middle and end; it is a supernatural work throughout. But we are saved that we may live in God; and, in the powers of our new life, do His will in the world. It is the Pauline, Not out of works, but unto good works, which God has afore prepared that we should live in them.

It is obvious that the whole substance of Luther's fundamental theology was summed up in the antithesis of sin and grace: sin conceived as absolutely disabling to good; grace as absolutely recreative in effect. Of course he taught also all that is necessarily bound up in one bundle of thought with this great doctrine of sin and grace. He taught, for instance, as a matter of course, the doctrine of "irresistible grace," and also with great purity and decision the doctrine of predestination - for how can salvation be of pure grace alone apart from all merit, save by the sovereign and effective gift of God? A great part of "The Enslaved Will" is given to insistence upon and elucidation of this doctrine of absolute predestination, and Luther did not shrink from raising it into the cosmical region or from elaborating it in its every detail. What it is important for us at the moment to insist upon, however, is that what we have said of Luther we might just as well, mutatis mutandis, have said of every other of the great Reformers. Luther's doctrine of sin and grace was not peculiar to him. It was the common property of the whole body of the Reformers. It was taught with equal clarity and force by Zwingli as by Luther, and by Martin Bucer and by John Calvin. It was taught even, in his earlier and happier period, by that "Protestant Erasmus," the weak and unreliable Melanchthon, who was saved from betraying the whole Protestant cause at Augsburg by no staunchness in himself, but only by the fatuity of the Catholics, and who later did betray it in its heart of hearts by going over to that very synergism which Luther declared to be the very marrow of the Pope's teaching. In one word, this doctrine was Protestantism itself. All else that Protestantism stood for, in comparison with this, must be relegated to the second rank.

There are some interesting paragraphs in the earlier pages of Alexander Schweizer's "Central Doctrines of Protestantism," in which he speaks of the watchwords of Protestantism, and points out the distinction between them and the so-called formal and material principles of Protestantism, which are, in point of fact, their more considered elaboration. Every reformatory movement in history, he says, has its watchwords, which serve as the symbol by which its adherents encourage one another, and as the banner about which they gather. They penetrate to the very essence of the matter, and give, if popular, yet compressed and vivid, expression to the precise pivot on which the movement turns. In the case of the Protestant revolution the antithesis, Not tradition but Scripture, emerged as one of these watchwords, but not as the ultimate one, but only as subordinate to another in which was expressed the contrast between the parties at strife with respect to the chief matter, how shall sinful man be saved? This ultimate watchword, says Schweizer, ran somewhat like this: Not works, but faith; not our merit, but God's grace in Christ; not our own penances and satisfactions, but the merit of Christ only. When we hear these cries we are hearing the very pulse-beats of the Reformation as a force among men. In their presence we are in the presence of the Reformation in its purity.

It scarcely requires explicit mention that what we are, then, face to face with in the Reformation is simply a revival of Augustinianism. The fundamental Augustinian antithesis of sin and grace is the soul of the whole Reformation movement. If we wish to characterize the movement on its theological side in one word, therefore, it is adequately done by declaring it a great revival of Augustinianism. Of course, if we study exactness of statement, there are qualifications to be made. But these qualifications serve not to modify the characterization but only to bring it to its utmost precision. We are bidden to remember that the Reformation was not the only movement back toward Augustinianism of the later Middle Ages or of its own day. The times were marked by a deep dissatisfaction with current modes of treating and speaking of divine things; and a movement away from the dominant nominalism, so far back toward Augustinianism as at least to Thomism, was widespread and powerful. And we are bidden to remember that Augustinianism is too broad a term to apply undefined to the doctrinal basis of the Reformation. In its complete connotation it included not only tendencies but elements of explicit teaching which were abhorrent to the Reformers, and by virtue of which the Romanists have an equal right with the Protestants to be called the true children of Augustine. It is suggested therefore that all that can properly be said is that the Reformation, conceived as a movement of its time, represented that part of the general revulsion from the corruptions of the day - the whole of which looked back toward Augustine for guidance and strength - which, because it was distinctively religious in its motives and aspirations, laid hold purely of the Augustinian doctrines of sin and grace, and built exclusively on them in its readjustments to life.

We may content ourselves with such a statement. It is quite true that the Reformation, when looked at purely in itself, presents itself to our view as, in the words of Fr. Loofs, "the rediscovery of Christianity as religion." And it is quite true that purely Augustinian as the Reformation is in its conception of religion, it is not the whole of Augustine that it takes over but only "the Augustine of sin and grace," so that when we speak of it as a revival of Augustinianism we must have in mind only the Augustinianism of grace. But the Augustinianism of grace in the truest sense represents "the real Augustine"; no injustice is done to historical verity in the essence of the matter when we speak of him as "a post-Pauline Paul and a pre-Lutheran Luther." We have only in such a phrase uncovered the true succession. Paul, Augustine, Luther; for substance of doctrine these three are one, and the Reformation is perceived to be, on its doctrinal side, mere Paulinism given back to the world.

To realize how completely this is true we have only to look into the pages of those lecture notes on Romans which Luther wrote down in 1515-1516, and the manuscript of which was still lying in 1903 unregarded in a showcase of the Berlin Library. Luther himself, of course, fully understood it all. He is reported to have said in his table talk in 1538 (Lauterbach): "There was a certain cardinal in the beginning of the Gospel plotting many things against me in Rome. A court fool, looking on, is said to have remarked: 'My Lord, take my advice and first depose Paul from the company of the Apostles; it is he who is giving us all this trouble.'" It was Paul whom Luther was consciously resurrecting, Paul with the constant cry on his lips - so Luther puts it - of "Grace! Grace! Grace!" Luther characteristically adds: "In spite of the devil" - "grace, in spite of the devil"; and perhaps it will not be without its value for us to observe that Luther did his whole work of reestablishing the doctrine of salvation by pure grace in the world, in the clear conviction that he was doing it in the teeth of the devil. It was against principalities and powers and spiritual wickednesses in high places that he felt himself to be fighting; and he depended for victory on no human arm. Has he not expressed it all in his great hymn - the Reformation hymn by way of eminence? -

A trusty stronghold is our God . . .

Yea, were the world with devils filled.

The Ninety-Five Theses in Their Theological Significance1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

"A poor peasant's son, then a diligent student, a humble monk, and, finally, a modest, industrious scholar, Martin Luther had already exceeded the half of the life-time allotted to him, when - certainly with the decision characteristic of him, but with all the reserve imposed by his position in life and the immediate purpose of his action - he determined to subject the religious conceptions which lay at the basis of the indulgence-usages of the time to an examination in academic debate."2 This singularly comprehensive and equally singularly accurate statement of Paul Kalkoff's is worth quoting because it places us at once at the right point of view for forming an estimate of the Ninety-five Theses which Luther, in prosecution of the purpose thus intimated, posted on the door of the Castle-Church at Wittenberg on the fateful October 31, 1517. It sets clearly before us the Luther who posted the Theses. It was - as he describes himself, indeed, in their heading3 - Martin Luther, Master of Arts and of Theology, Ordinary Professor of Theology in the University of Wittenberg. And it indicates to us with equal clearness the nature of the document which he posted. It consists of heads for a discussion designed to elucidate the truth with respect to the subject with which it deals - as again Luther himself tells us in its heading. We have to do here in a word with an academic document, prepared by an academic teacher, primarily for an academic purpose. All that the Theses were to become grows out of this fundamental fact. We have to reckon, of course, with the manner of man this Professor of Theology was; with the conception he held of the function of the University in the social organism; with the zeal for the truth which consumed him. But in doing so we must not permit to fall out of sight that it is with a hard-working Professor of Theology, in the prosecution of his proper academical work, that we have to do in these Theses. And above everything we must not forget the precise matter which the Theses bring into discussion; this was, as Kalkoff accurately describes it, the religious conceptions which lay at the basis of the indulgence traffic.

Failure to bear these things fully in mind has resulted in much confusion. It is probably responsible for the absurd statement of A. Plummer to the effect that "Luther began with a mere protest against the sale of indulgences by disreputable persons."4 One would have thought a mere glance at the document would have rendered such an assertion impossible; although it is scarcely more absurd than Philip Schaff's remark that the Theses do not protest "against indulgences, but only against their abuse"5 - which Plummer elaborates into: "Luther did not denounce the whole system of indulgences. He never disputed that the Church has power to remit the penalties which it has imposed in the form of penances to be performed in this world."6 To treat the whole system of indulgences, as proclaimed at the time, as an abuse of the ancient custom of relaxing, on due cause, imposed penances, is to attack the whole system with a vengeance.

The general lack of discernment with which the Theses have been read is nothing less than astonishing. It is not easy to understand, for instance, how T. M. Lindsay7 could have been led to say that they are "singularly unlike what might have been expected from a Professor of Theology." "They lack," he tells us, "theological definition, and contain many repetitions which might have been easily avoided." He speaks of them as simply unordered sledge-hammer blows directed against an ecclesiastical abuse: as such utterances as were natural to a man in close touch with the people, who, shocked at the reports of what the pardon-sellers had said, wished to contradict some of the statements which had been made in their defense. One does not know how Lindsay would expect a professional theologian to write. But certainly these Theses lack neither in profundity of theological insight nor in the strictest logical development of their theme. They constitute, in point of fact, a theological document of the first importance, working out a complete and closely knit argument against, not the abuses of the indulgence traffic, and not even the theory of indulgences, merely, but the whole sacerdotal conception of the saving process - an outgrowth and embodiment of which indulgences were. The popular aspects of the matter are reserved to the end of the document, and are presented there, not for their own sake, but as ancillary arguments for the theological conclusion aimed at. E. Bratke is right in insisting on the distinctively theological character of the Theses: they were, he says truly, "a scientific attempt at a theological examination"; and Luther's object in publishing them was a clearly positive one. "Not abuses," says Bratke rightly, "nor the doctrine of penance, but the doctrine of the acquisition of salvation, it was, for which Luther seized his weapons in his own interests and in the interests of Christianity."8

Bernhard Bess9 may supply us, however, with our typical example of how the Theses should not be dealt with. He wishes to vindicate a Reformatory importance for them; but he has difficulty in discovering it. They do not look very important at first sight, he says. Everybody who reads them for the first time has a feeling of disappointment with them. Even letters of pardon. Every true Christian, whether living or dead, has a share given to him by God in all the benefits of Christ and the Church, even without letters of pardon" - there is included in these "letters of pardon," expressly declared unnecessary, the whole sacerdotal machinery of salvation; and Luther is asserting salvation apart from this machinery as normal salvation. Reducing the ecclesiastical part in salvation to a purely ministerial and declaratory one, he sets the sinful soul nakedly face to face with its God and throws it back immediately on His free mercy for its salvation.

The significance of the Theses as a Reformation act emerges thus in this: that they are a bold, an astonishingly bold, and a powerful, an astonishingly powerful, assertion of the evangelical doctrine of salvation, embodied in a searching, well-compacted, and thoroughly wrought-out refutation of the sacerdotal conception, as the underlying foundation on which the edifice of the indulgence traffic was raised. This is what Walther Köhler means when he declares that we must recognize this as the fundamental idea of Luther's Theses: "the emancipation of the believer from the tutelage of the ecclesiastical institute"; and adds, "Thus God advances for him into the foreground; He alone is Lord of death and life; and to the Church falls the modest role of agent of God on earth - only there and nowhere else." "The most far-reaching consequences flowed from this," he continues; "Luther smote the Pope on his crown and simply obliterated his high pretensions with reference to the salvation of souls in this world and the next, and in their place set God and the soul in a personal communion which in its whole intercourse bears the stamp of interiorness and spirituality." Julius Köstlin puts the whole matter with his accustomed clearness and balance - though with a little wider reference than the Theses themselves - when he describes the advance in Luther's testimony marked by the indulgence controversy thus: "As he had up to this time proclaimed salvation in Christ through faith, in opposition to all human merit, so he now proclaims it also in opposition to an external human ecclesiasticism and priesthood, whose acts are represented as conditioning the imparting of salvation itself, and as in and of themselves, even without faith, effecting salvation for those in whose interests they are performed."10

How, in these circumstances, Philip Schaff can say of the Theses, "they were more Catholic than Protestant,"11 passes comprehension. He does, no doubt, add on the next page, "The form only is Romish, the spirit and aim are Protestant"; but that is an inadequate correction. They are nothing less than, to speak negatively, an anti-sacerdotal, to speak positively, an evangelical manifesto. There are "remainders of Romanism" in them, to be sure, for Luther had not worked his way yet to the periphery of his system of thought. These "remainders of Romanism" led him in after years to speak of himself as at this time still involved in the great superstition of the Roman tyranny (1520), and even as a mad papist, so sunk in the Pope's dogmas that he was ready to murder anyone who refused obedience to the Pope (1545). But these strong expressions witness rather to the horror with which he had come to look upon everything that was papist than do justice to the stage of his developing Protestantism which he had reached in 1517. The remainders of Romanism imbedded in the Theses are, after all, very few and very slight. Luther was not yet ready to reject indulgences in every sense. He still believed in a purgatory. He still had a great reverence for the organized Church; put a high value on the priestly function; and honored the Pope as the head of the ecclesiastical order. It is even possible to draw out from the Theses, indeed, some sentences which, in isolation, may appear startlingly Romish. We have in mind here such, for example, as the sixty-ninth, seventy-first, and seventy-third. It is to be observed that these are consecutive odd numbers. That is because they are mere protases, preparing the way, each for a ringing apodosis in which the gravamen of the assertion lies.

Luther has reached the stage in his argument here where he has the crying abuses connected with the preaching of indulgences in view. He declares, to be sure, "It is incumbent on bishops and curates to receive the commissaries of the apostolical pardons with all reverence." But that is only that he may add with the more force: "But much more is it incumbent on them to see to it with all their eyes and to take heed to it with all their ears that these men do not preach their own dreams instead of the commission of the Pope." He proclaims, it is true, "He who speaks against the truth of apostolic pardons, let him be anathema and accursed." But that is only to give zest to the contrast: "But he who exerts himself against the wantonness and license of speech of the preacher of pardons, let him be blessed." If he allows that "the Pope justly fulminates against those who use any kind of machinations to the injury of the traffic in pardons," that is only that he may add: "Much more does he intend to fulminate against those who under pretext of pardons use machinations to the injury of holy charity and truth." If Luther seems in these statements to allow the validity of indulgences, that must be set down to the fault of his antithetical rhetoric rather than of his doctrine. These protases are really of the nature of rhetorical concessions, and are meant to serve only as hammers to drive home the contrary assertions of his apodoses. Luther has already reduced valid indulgences to the relaxation of ecclesiastical penances, and curbed the Pope's power with reference to the remission of sin to a purely declaratory function. "The Pope has neither the will nor the power to remit any penalties, except those which he has imposed by his own authority or by that of the Canons. The Pope has no power to remit any guilt except by declaring and approbating it to have been remitted by God." These two Theses (5 and 6) cut up sacerdotalism by the roots.

We must be wary, too, lest we be misled by Luther's somewhat artificial use of his terms. He persistently means by "indulgences," "pardons," not the indulgences which actually existed in the world in which he lived - which he held to be gross corruptions of the only real indulgences - but such indulgences as he was willing to admit to be valid, that is to say, relaxations of ecclesiastically imposed penances; and he repeatedly speaks so as to imply that it is these which the Pope really intends - or at least in the judgment of charity ought to be assumed really to intend - by all the indulgences which he commissions. Even more persistently he means by "the Pope," not the Pope as he actually was, but the Pope as he should be; that is to say, a "public person" representing and practically identical with the ecclesiastical Canons. Thus, when he declares in the forty-second Thesis that "it is not the mind of the Pope that the buying of pardons is comparable to works of mercy," he explains in his "Resolutions" (1518) that what he really means is that the Canons do not put the two on a par. "I understand the Pope," he says,12 "as a public person, that is, as he speaks through the Canons: there are no Canons which declare that the value of indulgences is comparable to that of works of mercy." At an earlier point he had said with great distinctness (on Thesis 26), "I am not in the least moved by what is pleasing or displeasing to the supreme Pontiff. He is a man like other men; there have been many supreme Pontiffs who were pleased not only with errors and vices but even with the most monstrous things. I hearken to the Pope as pope; that is when he speaks in the Canons and speaks according to the Canons, or when he determines with a Council: but not when he speaks according to his own head - for I do not wish to be compelled to say, with some whose knowledge of Christ is defective, that the horrible deeds of blood committed by Julius II against the Christian people were the good deeds of a pious pastor done to Christ's sheep."13 The Pope to Luther was thus an administrative officer: not precisely what we should call a responsible ruler, but rather what we should speak of as a limited executive. The distinction he draws is not between the Pope speaking ex cathedra and in his own private capacity; it is rather between the Pope speaking of himself and according to his mandate. Only when the Pope spoke according to his mandate was he the Pope, and Luther repeatedly in the Theses ascribes to the "Pope" what he found in the Canons, and denies to the "Pope" what the actual Pope was saying and doing, because it was not in the Canons. To him the Pope was not so much authoritative as what was authoritative was "the Pope."

What Luther found it hardest to separate himself from in the Catholic system, was the authoritative ministration of the priest, God's representative, to weak and trembling souls. The strength and purity of the evangelicalism of the Theses is manifested in nothing more decisively than in their clear proclamation of the dependence of the soul for salvation on the mere grace of God alone. But Luther could not escape from the feeling that, in some way, the priest had an intermediating part to play in the application of this salvation. This feeling finds its expression particularly in Thesis 7: "God never remits guilt to anyone at all, except at the same time He subjects him, humbled in all things, to the priest, His vicar." In the exposition of this Thesis in the "Resolutions" he has much ado to discover an essential part in salvation for the priest to play. When the dust clears away, what he has to say is seen to reduce to this: "The remission of God, therefore, works grace, but the remission of the priest, peace."14 We may be saved without the priest, but we need his ministration to know that we are saved. The awakened sinner, by virtue of the very fact that he is awakened, cannot believe that he - even he - is forgiven, and needs the intermediation of God's representative, the priest, to assure him of it. The mischief is that Luther is inclined, if not to confuse, yet to join together these two things, and to treat salvation itself as therefore not quite accomplished until it is wrought in foro conscientiae as well as in foro coeli. "The remission of sin and the donation of grace is not enough," he says,15 "but there is necessary also the belief that it is remitted." It makes no difference to him, he says, whether you say that the priest is the sine qua non or any other kind of cause of the remission of sin: all that he is exigent for is that it be allowed that in some way or other the priestly absolution is concerned in the remission of sin and guilt.

He will have, however, no opus operatum; and despite this magnifying of the part of absolution in salvation, he puts the priest firmly in his place, as a mere minister. It is after all not the priest, by virtue of any powers he may possess, but the man's own faith which in his absolution brings him remission. "For you will have only so much peace," he declares,16 "as you have faith in the words of Him who promised, 'whatsoever you loose, etc.' For our peace is Christ, but in faith. If anyone does not believe this word, he may be absolved a million times by the Pope himself, and confess to the whole world, and he will never come to rest." "Forgiveness depends not on the priest but on the word of Christ; the priest may be acting for the sake of gain or of honor - do you but seek without hypocrisy for forgiveness and believe Christ who has given you His promise, and even though it be of mere frivolity that he absolves you, you nevertheless will receive forgiveness from your faith . . . your faith receives it wholly. So great a thing is the word of Christ, and faith in it."17 "Accordingly it is through faith that we are justified, through faith also that we are brought to peace - not through works, penances, or confession."18 There is no lack even here, therefore, of the note of salvation by pure grace through faith alone. There is only an effort to place the actual experience of salvation in some real connection with the ministrations of the Church. And underlying this there is a tendency to confuse salvation itself with the assurance of it. Both these points of view lived on in the Lutheran churches.

The part played, in the line of thought just reviewed, by Luther's conception of evangelical repentance ought not to be passed over without notice. This conception is in a sense the ruling conception of the Theses. The Christian, according to Luther, is a repentant sinner, and by his very nature as a repentant sinner must suffer continuously the pangs of repentance. By these pangs he is driven to mortifications of the flesh and becomes even greedy of suffering, which he recognizes as his appropriate life-element. So strong an emphasis does Luther place on suffering as a mark of the Christian life, indeed, that he has been sometimes represented as thinking of it as a good in itself, after the fashion of the mystics. Walther Köhler, for example, cries out, "The whole life a penance! Not only as often as the Church requires it in the confessional, no, the Christian's whole life is to be a great process of dying, 'mortification of the flesh' - up to the soul's leaving in death its bodily house. . . . The mystical warp is visible in this through and through personal religion."19 This, however, is a misconception. Luther is not dealing with men as men and with essential goods; he is speaking of sinners awakened to a knowledge of their sin, and of their necessary experience under the burden of their consciousness of guilt and pollution. He is giving us not his philosophy of life in the abstract, but his conception specifically of the Christian life. This, he says, is necessarily a life of penitent pain. In the fundamental opening Theses, he already points out that suffering, the suffering of rueful penitence, necessarily belongs to every sinner, so long as he remains a sinner - provided that he remains a repentant sinner. Without this compunction there is no remission of sin (36); with it there is no cessation in this life of suffering. The very process of salvation brings pain: no man, entering into life, can expect anything else for the outer man but "the cross, death, and hell" (58); nor does he seek to escape them, but he welcomes them rather as making for his peace (40, 29). And so, preaching "the piety of the cross" (68), Luther arrives at length at those amazing closing Theses in which, invoking a curse on those who cry, "Peace, peace!" when there is no peace, and pronouncing a blessing on those who call out, "The cross, the cross!" - though it is no real cross to the children of God - he declares that Christians must strive to follow Christ, their Head, through pains, deaths, and hells, and only thus to enter heaven through many tribulations - rather than, he adds, striking at the indulgence usages, "through the security of peace." There is a note of imitatio Christi here, of course; but not in the mystical sense. Rather there speaks here a deep conviction that the Christian life is a battle, a struggle, a strenuous work; and a great cry of outrage at the whole tendency of the indulgence system to ungird the loins, and call men off from the conflict, lulling their consciences into a fatal sleep. Luther is not dreaming here of the purchase of heaven by human suffering or works. He has a Christian man in mind. He is speaking of the path over which one treads, who, in his new life, is journeying to his final bliss. Clearly he does not expect to "lie down" on the grace that saves him. He looks at the Christian life as a life of strenuous moral effort. His brand of "passive" salvation is all activity.

Its lack of moral earnestness was to earnest minds the crowning offense of the system of indulgences. In the midst of a system of work-salvation it had grown up as an expedient by means of which the work might be escaped and the salvation nevertheless secured. The "works" could not, to be sure, be altogether escaped: there must be something to take their place and represent them. That much the underlying idea of work-salvation demanded. That something wasmoney. The experience of young Friedrich Mecum (we know him as Myconius) may instruct us here. As a youth of eighteen he heard Tetzel preach the indulgences in 1510 at Annaberg. He was deeply moved with desire to save his soul. He had no money, but had he not read, posted on the church door, that it was the wish of the holy Father that from now on the indulgences should be sold for a low price and even indeed given gratis to those unable to purchase them? He presented himself at Tetzel's dwelling to make his plea. The high commissary himself he could not see; but the priests and confessors in the ante-chamber pointed out to him that indulgences could not be given, and if given would be worthless. They would benefit only those who stretched out a helping hand. Let him go out and beg from some pious person only so much as a groschen, or six pfennigs - and he could purchase one for that. This was not mere heartlessness. It was intrinsic to the system. An indulgence was a relaxation of penance, and penance was payment: provision might be made for less payment but not for no payment at all. At the bottom of all lies the fundamental notion that salvation must be paid for: it is only a question of the price. Indulgences thus emerge to sight as a scheme to evade one's spiritual and moral debts and to secure eternal felicity at the least possible cost.

We need not insist here on the peculiarities of the Jubilee indulgences with which Luther was most immediately concerned, and the characteristic feature of which was that it included the sacrament of penance within itself. All indulgences in their developed form made a part of the sacerdotal system and worked in with the sacrament of penance: they were not offered to the heathen but to Christians, to men, that is, who had been baptized and had access to the ordinary ghostly ministrations. The fundamental idea embedded in them - of which they are, indeed, the culminating illustration - is that the offices of the Church may be called in not merely to supplement but to take the place of the duties of personal religion and common morality: they thus put the capstone on sacerdotal religiosity. It may be a coarse way of putting it, to say that in this system a man might buy his way into heaven; that he might purchase immunity for sin; that he might even barter for license to sin. But with whatever finessing the direct statement may be avoided, both in theory and practice it amounts to that. Baptism, penance, indulgence - these three provisions taken together provide a method by which a man, through the offices of the Church, might escape every evil consequence of his sin, inborn and self-committed; and by the expenditure of only a little ceremonial care and a little money, assure himself of unmerited salvation. He who is baptized is brought into a state of grace and through penance may maintain himself in grace - and, in the interests at once of the comfort of weak souls and of the power of the Church, the efficacy of penance is exalted, despite the defects of contrition and the substitution for it of mere attrition. Relieved by these offices of the eternal penalities of their sin, indulgences now come in to relieve men of their temporal penalties. Both the eternal and the temporal penalties being gone, guilt need not be bothered with: hell and purgatory having both been abolished, guilt will take care of itself. Thus a baptized man - and all within the pale of the Church are baptized - by shriving himself, say, every Easter and buying an indulgence or two, makes himself safe. The Church takes care of him throughout, and it costs him nothing but an annual confession and the few coins that rattle in the collection box. Adolf Harnack sums up the matter thus: "Every man who surrenders himself to the Catholic Church . . . can secure salvation from all eternal and temporal penalties - if he act with shrewdness and find a skilful priest."

It was one of the attractions of the indulgences which Tetzel hawked about that they gave the purchaser the right to choose a confessor for himself and required this confessor to absolve him. They thus made his immunity from all punishment sure. Marvelous to say, the vendors of indulgences were not satisfied with thus selling the justice of heaven; they wished to sell the justice of earth, too. Luther, it is true, in a passage in his "Resolutions"20 denies that "the Pope" "remits civil or rather criminal penalties, inflicted by the civil law," but he adds that "the legates do do this in some places when they are personally present"; and in another place he betrays why he wishes to shield "the Pope" from the onus of this iniquity, saying that "the Pope" cannot be supposed to have the power to remit civil penalties, because in that case "the letters of indulgence will abolish all gibbets and racks throughout the world" - that is to say, would do away altogether with the punishment of crime. In point of fact the actual as distinguished from Luther's ideal Pope did issue indulgences embodying this precise provision, and those sold by Tetzel were among them. Henry Charles Lea remarks upon them thus: The power to protect from all secular courts "was delegated to the peripatetic vendors of indulgences, who thus carried impunity for crime to every man's door. The St. Peter's indulgences, sold by Tetzel and his colleagues, were of this character, and not only released the purchasers from all spiritual penalties but forbade all secular or criminal prosecution. . . . It was fortunate that the Reformation came to prevent the Holy See from rendering all justice, human and divine, a commodity to be sold in open market."21

It is very instructive to observe the superficial resemblance between the language in which the indulgences were commended and that of the evangelical proclamation. Both offered a salvation that the recipient had not earned by his works, but was to receive from the immense mercy of God. "We have been conceived . . . in sin" - Tetzel's preaching is thus summarized by Julius Köstlin - "and are wrapped in bands of sin. It is hard - yea, impossible - to attain salvation without divine help. Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but of His mercy, has God saved us. Therefore . . . put on the armor of God."22 The attractiveness of indulgences arose from this very thing - that they offered to men relief from the dread of anticipated punishment and reception into bliss, on grounds less onerous than the "works of righteousness" or "merit-making" involved in the ordinary church system. To the superficial view this could be given very much the appearance of Luther's doctrine of justification by faith. In both the pure mercy of God to lost and helpless sinners could be pointed to as the source of the salvation offered. In both the merits of Christ could be pointed to as the ground of the acceptance of the sinner. The Romanists included in their "Treasure" also, it is true, the merits of the saints, and Luther therefore couples the two in Thesis 58, although telling us in his "Resolutions" that the saints have no merits to offer, and if they had they would do us no good. It does not go deeply enough to say that the difference between the two proclamations lies in this - that Luther demands for this free salvation faith alone, while Tetzel proposes to hand it over for money down - in accordance with the quip attributed to Cardinal Borgia, that God desires not the death of sinners, but that they shall pay and live. The fundamental difference between the two doctrines is the fundamental difference between evangelicalism and sacerdotalism. Evangelicalism casts man back on God and God only; the faith that it asks of him is faith in God's saving grace in Christ alone. Sacerdotalism throws him into the hands of the Church and asks him to put his confidence in it - or, in the indulgences, very specifically in the Pope. He is to suspend his salvation on what the Pope can do - whether directly by his own power or in the way of suffrage - transferring to his credit the merits of Christ and His saints. This difference is correlated with this further one, that the release offered in the indulgences was from penalty, that sought in evangelicalism very distinctly from guilt. Transposed into positive language, that means that in the one case desire for comfort and happiness holds the mind, in the other a yearning for holiness. The one is non-ethical and must needs bear its fruits as such. The other tingles with ethicism to the finger tips. The mind, freed by its high enthusiasm from debilitating fear of suffering, is fired to unceasing endeavor by a great ambition to be well-pleasing to God. The gulf which separated Luther and the proclamation of indulgences and compelled him to appear in opposition to it was therefore radical and goes down to the roots of the contradictory systems of doctrine. It was not the abuses which accompanied this proclamation which moved him, though they shocked him profoundly. It was indeed not the indulgences themselves, but what lay behind and beneath the indulgences. J. Janssen is perfectly right, then, when speaking of the abuses of the traffic, he writes: "It was not, however, especially these abuses which occasioned Luther to his procedure against indulgences, but the doctrine of indulgences itself, particularly the church doctrine of good works which was contrary to his conceptions about justification and the bondage of the human will."23

The Roman Curia had no difficulty in perceiving precisely where Luther's blow fell. The lighter forces rushed, of course, to the defense of the peripheral things: the papal authority, the legitimacy of indulgences. The result was that, as Luther says in the opening words of "The Babylonish Captivity," they served as teachers for him and opened his eyes to matters on which he had not perfectly informed himself before. He had preserved reverence for the Pope as head of the Church. They taught him to look upon him as Antichrist. He had not wished totally to reject indulgences. "By the kind aid of Sylvester and the Friars," he now learned that they could properly be described only as "the mere impostures of Roman flatterers, by which they took away both faith in God and men's money."24 In his "Assertio" of the Articles condemned by Leo's Bull, written in the same year (1520), he, with mock humility, retracts his statement, objected to, to the effect that indulgences were pious frauds of believers - a statement apparently borrowed from Albert of Mainz who calls them pious frauds by which the Church allured believers to pious works - and now asserts that they are just impious frauds and impostures of wicked popes.25 But the Curia in its immediate action went deeper than these things. When Luther appeared before Cardinal Cajetan in October, 1518, the representative of the Pope laid his finger on just two propositions which he required him absolutely to recant. These were the assertion in the fifty-eighth Thesis that the merits of Christ work effectually without the intervention of the Pope and therefore cannot be the "Treasure" drawn upon by the indulgences; and an assertion in the "Resolutions" on the seventh Thesis to the effect that the sacraments do not work effectively unless received by faith. Obviously in these two propositions is embodied the essence of evangelicalism: salvation the immediate gift of Christ; faith and faith alone the real instrument of reception of grace.

Cajetan's entire dealing with Luther consisted in insistence on his recanting just these two assertions. Luther gives a very amusing account of an undignified scene in which Cajetan pressed him to recant the fifty-eighth Thesis, on the basis of an Extravagant of Clement VI's. He would listen to no explanations, but simply demanded continuously, pointing at the Extravagant, "Do you believe that or do you not?" At last, says Luther, the Legate tried to beat him down with an interminable speech drawn from "the fables" of St. Thomas, into which Luther a half score of times attempted in vain to break. "Finally," he proceeds in his description, "I too began to shriek, and said, 'If it can be shown that that Extravagant teaches that the merits of Christ are the treasure of indulgences, I will recant, according to your wish.' Great God, into what triumphant gestures and scornful laughter he now broke out! He seized the book suddenly and read furiously and snarlingly until he came to the place where it says that Christ purchased a treasure by His suffering, etc. Here I said, 'Listen, reverend Father, note well the words - "He purchased." If Christ purchased the treasure by His merits, it follows that the treasure is not the merits, but that which the merits have purchased - that is the keys of the Church. Therefore my thesis is true.' Here he became suddenly confused; and since he did not wish to appear confused he jumped violently to other subjects and sought to have this forgotten. But I was (not very respectfully, I confess) incensed, and broke out thus: 'Reverend Father, you must not think that Germans are ignorant of grammar also; "to be a treasure" and "to purchase" are different things.'"26

We must confess that Luther escaped by the skin of his teeth that time. Fortunately he had better reasons for contending that the Scriptures do not teach the doctrine in question than that Clement and Sixtus do not. In his written answer to Cajetan he deals with the matter more seriously. He argues the question even there, however, with the understanding that his business is to show that his Thesis is not in disharmony with the papal teaching; and he not very safely promises to adopt as his own whatever the Pope may declare to be true, a promise which two years afterwards he could not have repeated. On the real evangelical core of the Thesis, however - that the merits of Christ work grace independently of the Pope - and on the second proposition which he was required to recant - that the sacraments are without effect in the absence of faith - he was absolutely unbending. He throws his assertion concerning faith, moreover, into such a form as to make it include assurance - a matter of some interest in view of the presence of a phrase or two in the Theses and in the letter to Albert of Mainz enclosing a copy of them to him, which might be incautiously read as denying the possibility of assurance, but which really mean only to deny that assurance can be derived from anything whatever except Christ alone. What he declares to Cajetan to be "absolutely true," is "that no man can be just before God except alone through faith"; and therefore, he adds, "it is necessary that a man certainly believe that he is just and not doubt that he receives grace. For if he doubt it, and is uncertain of it," he argues, "then he is not just but opposes grace and casts it away from him."27

What Luther is eager to do is, not to leave men in uncertainty as to their salvation, but to protect them from placing their trust in anything but Christ - certainly not in letters of pardon (Thesis 32: "Those who believe that through letters of pardon they are made sure of their own salvation, will be eternally damned along with their teachers"), or in the assurances of any man whatever, no matter what his assumed spiritual authority may be (Thesis 52: "Vain is the hope of salvation through letters of pardon, even if a commissary - nay, the Pope himself - were to pledge his soul for them"): but just as certainly not in their own contrition (Thesis 30: "No man is sure of the reality of his own contrition, much less of the attainment of plenary remission" - a thesis which Luther declares in the "Resolutions" not to be true in his sense but only in that of his opponents). "May all such teaching as would persuade to security and confidence (securitatem et fiduciam) in or through anything whatever except the mercy of God, which is Christ, be accursed," he cries out in the "Resolutions" when speaking of Thesis 52.28 "Beware of confiding in thy contrition," he says when commenting on Thesis 36 - and the comment is needed, lest the unwary reader might suppose that Thesis to counsel this very thing - "or of attributing the remission of sins to thy sorrow. God does not look with favor on thee because of these things, but because of thy faith with which thou hast believed His threatenings and promises and which has wrought such sorrow." "Guard thyself, then," he says again (on Thesis 38), "against ever in any wise trusting in thy contrition, but only in the mere word of thy best and most faithful Saviour, Jesus Christ: thy heart can deceive thee, He cannot deceive thee - whether thou dost possess Him or dost desire Him."29

How pure the evangelicalism here expressed is may be perceived by reading only a few lines of the positive comment on the great central Theses 36, 37. "It is impossible that one should be a Christian without Christ; but if anyone has Christ, he has with Him all that is Christ's. For the holy Apostle speaks thus - . . . Rom. viii. 32: 'How shall He not with Him also give us all things?"' "For this is the confidence of Christians, and the joy of our consciences, that by faith our sins become not ours but Christ's, on whom God has put our sins and He has borne our sins - He who is the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world. And again all Christ's righteousness is ours. For He lays His hands upon us and it is well with us; and He spreads His robe over us and covers us - the blessed Saviour forever, Amen!" "But since this sweetest participation and joyful interchange does not take place except by faith - and man cannot give and cannot take away this faith - I think it sufficiently clear that this participation is not given by the power of the keys, or by the benefit of letters of indulgence, but rather is given before and apart from them by God alone; as remission before remission, and absolution before absolution, so participation before participation. What participation then does the Pope give in his participation? I answer: They ought to say as was said above of remission in Thesis 6, that he gives participation declaratively. For how they can say anything else I confess I do not understand."30 "Why then do they magnify the Pontiff because of the keys and think of him as a terrible being? The keys are not his, but rather mine, given to me for my salvation, for my consolation, granted for my peace and quiet. In the keys the Pontiff is my servant and minister; he has no need of them as a Pontiff, but I."31 Through all it is faith that is celebrated. "You have as much as you believe."32 The sacraments are efficacious not because they are enacted, but because they are believed. Absolution is effective not because it is given, but because it is believed. Only - the penitent believer needs the authoritative priestly word that he may believe that he - even he - can really be sharer in these great things. "Therefore it is neither the sacrament, nor the priest, but faith in the word of Christ, through the priest and his office, that justifies thee. What difference does it make to thee if the Lord speak through an ass or a jenny, if only thou dost hear His word, on which thou dost stay thy hope and rest thy faith?"33

It is not, however, only in a sentence here and there that the evangelical note is sounded in the Theses. What requires to be insisted upon is that they constitute in their entirety a compact and well-ordered presentation of the evangelical position in opposition to sacerdotalism. This presentation was called out by the preaching of indulgences and takes its form from its primary reference to them. But what it strikes particularly at is the sacerdotal roots of indulgences, and what it sets in opposition to them is the pure evangelical principle. It must not be imagined that these Theses were hastily prepared merely to meet a sudden emergency created by Tetzel's preaching at Jüterbog. Luther had preached on indulgences on the same day, October 31, of the preceding year, and in the midsummer (July 27) before that. And - this is the point to take especial note of - the Theses repeat the thought and much of the language of these sermons. They are therefore the deliberate expression of long-meditated and thoroughly matured thought; in substance and language alike they had been fully in mind for a year and more. The "Resolutions," published the next year - and manifesting next to no advance in opinion on the Theses which they expound - show that Luther was thoroughly informed on the whole subject and had its entire literature at easy command. His choice of October 31, the eve of All Saints' Day, for posting the Theses, has also its very distinct significance. This choice was determined by something more than a desire to gain for them the publicity which that day provided. All Saints' Day was not merely the anniversary of the consecration of the church, elaborate services on which were attended by thousands. It was also the day on which the great collection of relics accumulated by the Elector was exhibited; and to the veneration of them and attendance on the day's services special indulgences were attached. It was, in a word, Indulgence Day at Wittenberg; and that was the attraction which brought the crowds thither on it. Luther, we have just pointed out, had preached a sermon against indulgences on the preceding October 31. On this October 31 he posts his Theses. The coincidence is not accidental. The Theses came not at the beginning but in the middle of his attack on indulgences, and have in view, not Tetzel and his Jubilee indulgences alone, but the whole indulgence system. That the preaching in Germany of the Jubilee indulgences was the occasion of Luther's coming forward in this attack on indulgences, he tells us himself. He explains somewhat objectively how he was drawn into it, when writing to his ecclesiastical superior: "I was asked by many strangers as well as friends, both by letter and by word of mouth, for my opinion of these new not to say licentious teachings; for a while I held out - but in the end their complaints became so bitter as to endanger reverence for the Pope."34 Similarly he declares in the "Resolutions": "I have been compelled to lay down all these positions because I saw that some were infected with false opinions, and others were laughing in the taverns and holding up the holy priesthood to open ridicule, because of the great license with which the indulgences are preached." This is not to say, however, that in meeting this call upon him, Luther was not moved by a deeper-lying motive and did not wish to go to the bottom of the matter. When writing privately to his friends he did not hesitate to say as early as the middle of February, 1518, that "indulgences now seem to me to be nothing but a snare for souls and worth absolutely nothing except to those who slumber and idle in the way of Christ," and to explain his coming forward against them thus: "For the sake of opposing this fraud, for the love of truth, I entered this dangerous labyrinth of disputation."35

The document itself however is the best witness to the care given to its preparation and to the depth of its purpose as an anti-sacerdotal manifesto. There are no signs of haste about it, and, in point of fact, the question is argued in it from the point of sight of fundamental principles. In its opening propositions, Luther begins by laying down in firm lines the Christian doctrine of penitence. It is, he says, of course the very mark of the penitent sinner that he is penitent; and of course he can never cease to be penitent so long as he is, what as a Christian he must be - a penitent sinner. His penitence is not only fundamentally an interior fact: but if it is real, it manifests itself in outward mortifications. This being what a Christian man essentially is, what now has the Pope to do with the penalties which he suffers - which constitute the very substance and manifestation of the penitence by virtue of which he is a penitent as distinguished from an impenitent sinner? Luther's answer is, Nothing whatever. With reference to the living he declares that the Pope can relieve a man only of penalties of his own imposing; with respect to penalties of God's imposing he has only a declarative function. With reference to the dying, why, by the very act of dying they escape out of the Pope's hands. There is, of course, purgatory. But purgatory is not a place where old scores are paid off; but a place where imperfect souls are perfected in holiness; and surely the Pope neither can nor would wish to intermit their perfecting. Clearly, then, it is futile to trust in indulgences. There is nothing for them to do. They cannot release us from the necessity of being Christians; and if we are Christians, we can have no manner of need of them. In asserting this, Luther closes this first and principal part of the document - constituting one third of the whole - with the great evangelical declarations: "Every truly contrite Christian has of right plenary remission of penalty and guilt - even without letters of pardon. Every true Christian, whether living or dead, has given to him by God, a share in all the benefits of Christ and the Church - even without letters of pardon" (Theses 36, 37).

Having thus laid down the general principles, Luther now takes a new start and points out some of the dangers which accompany the preaching of indulgences. There is the danger that the purchase of indulgences should be made to appear more important than the exercise of charity, or even than the maintenance of our dependents. There is the danger that the head of the Church may be made to appear more desirous of the people's money than of their prayers. There is the danger that the preaching of indulgences may encroach upon or even supersede the preaching of the gospel in the churches. After all, the preaching of the gospel is the main thing. It is the true treasure of the Church: indeed, it is the only treasure on which the Church can draw. The section closes with some pointed antitheses, contrasting the indulgences and the gospel: the indulgences which make the last to be first and seek after men's riches, and the gospel which makes the first to be last and seeks after those men who are rich indeed: indulgences are gainful things no doubt, but grace and the piety of the cross - they belong to the gospel.

A third start is now taken, and Luther sharply arraigns the actual misdeeds of the preachers of pardons and their unmeasured assertions (licentiosa praedicatio) . Of course the commissaries of the apostolical pardons are not to be excluded from dioceses and parishes: they come with the Pope's commission and the Pope is the head of the Church. But bishops and curates are bound to see to it that the unbridled license of their preaching is curbed within the just limits of their commission. As it is, they have filled the world with murmurings and it is not easy to defend the Pope against the sharp questions which the people are asking. Luther adduces eight of these questions as specimens: they constitute a tremendous indictment against the whole indulgence traffic from the point of view of practical common sense, and are all the more effective because repeated out of the mouth of the people. They are such as these: If the Pope has the power to release souls from purgatory, why does he not, out of his mere charity, release the whole lot of them, and not dole their release out one by one for money? If souls are released from purgatory by indulgences, why does the Pope keep the endowments for masses for these same souls, after they have been released? Why should the money of a wicked man move the Pope to release a soul from purgatory more than that soul's own deep need? Why does the Pope treat dead Canons as still alive and take money for relaxing them? Why does the rich Pope not build St. Peter's out of his own superfluity and not tax the poor for it? What is it, after all, that the Pope remits to those whose perfect contrition has already gained their remission? What is the effect of accumulating indulgences? If it is the salvation of souls and not money that the Pope is after, why does he suspend old letters of pardon and put new ones on sale? Such searching arguments as these, Luther justly says, cannot be met by a display of force: they must be answered.

Then he brings the whole document to a close with some fervent words renouncing a gospel of ease, crying Peace, peace! such as the indulgences offer: and proclaiming the strenuous gospel of the cross: "Christians should be exhorted to strive to follow their Head, Christ, through pains and deaths and hells, and thus to trust to enter heaven rather through many tribulations than through the security of peace."

It belongs to the general structure of the document - advancing as it does from the principles which underlie the indulgence traffic, through the dangers which accompany it, to its actual abuses - that its tone should grow sharper and its attack more direct with its progress. Luther's argumentative purpose and his rhetorical instinct have no doubt cooperated to produce this result. It suited the end he had in view to present the indulgences as a species under a broader genus. But also it pleased his rhetorical sense so to manage his material as to have it grow in force and directness of assertion steadily to the end, and to close in what deserves the name of a fervent peroration. The calm, detached propositions of the first section pass in the second into a series of rhetorical repetitions, and these give way as the third section is approached to stinging antitheses. Nevertheless the real weight of the document lies in its first section, and it is by virtue of the propositions laid down there that it is worthy of its place as the first great Reformation act, and the day of its posting is justly looked upon as the birthday of the Reformation.

The posting of these Theses does not mark the acquisition by Luther of his evangelical convictions. These had long been his - how long we hardly know but must content ourselves with saying, with Walther Köhler, that they were apparently acquired somewhere between 1509 and 1515. Neither does their posting mark the beginning of the evangelical proclamation. From at least 1515 Luther had been diligently propagating his evangelicalism in pulpit and chair, and had already fairly converted his immediate community to it. He could already boast of the victory of "our theology" in the university, and the town was in his hands. What is marked by the posting of these Theses is the issuing of the Reformation out of the narrow confines of the university circles of Wittenberg and its start on its career as a world-movement. Their posting gave wings to the Reformation. And it gave it wings primarily by rallying to its aid the smoldering sense of outrage which had long been gathering against a gross ecclesiastical abuse. This would not have carried it far, however, had not the document in which it was thus sent abroad had in it the potency of the new life.

"What is epoch-making in the Theses," writes E. Bratke,36 "is that they are the first public proclamation in which Luther in full consciousness made the truth of justifying faith as the sole principle of the communication of salvation, the theme of a theological controversy, and thus laid before the Church a problem for further research, which afterwards became the motive and principle of a new development of the Christian Church, yes, of civilization in general." What Bratke is trying to say here is true; and, being true, is vastly important. But he does not say it well. Luther had often before proclaimed the principle of justifying faith in full enthusiasm, to as wide a public as his voice could reach. It happens that neither faith nor justification is once mentioned in the Theses. It is in the Lectures on Romans of 1515-1516 that the epoch-making exposition of justification by faith was made, not in the Theses. Nevertheless, it is true that the Theses are the express outcome of Luther's new "life principle," and have as their fundamental purpose to set it in opposition to "human ecclesiasticism and sacerdotalism." And it is true that the idea of justification by faith underlies them throughout and only does not come to explicit expression in them because the occasion does not call for that: Luther cannot expound them (as in the "Resolutions") without dwelling largely on it. The matter would be better expressed, however, by saying that Luther here sets the evangelical principle flatly in opposition to the sacerdotal. What he here attacks is just the sacerdotal principle in one of its most portentous embodiments - the teaching that men are to look to the Church as the institute of salvation for all their souls' welfare, and to derive from the Church all their confidence in life and in death. What he sets over against this sacerdotalism is the evangelical principle that man is dependent for his salvation on God and on God alone - on God directly, apart from all human intermediation - and is to look to God for and to derive from God immediately all that makes for his soul's welfare. In these Theses Luther brought out of the academic circle in which he had hitherto moved, and cast into the arena of the wide world's conflicts, under circumstances which attracted and held the attention of men, his newly found evangelical principle, thrown out into sharp contrast with the established sacerdotalism. It is this that made the posting of these Theses the first act of the Reformation, and has rightly made October Thirty-first the birthday of the Reformation.

Endnotes:

1. Reprinted from The Princeton Theological Review, xv. 1917, pp. 501-529.

2. P. Kalkoff, "Luther und die Entscheidungsjahre der Reformation," 1917, p. 9.

3. For the Theses see any standard edition of Luther's "Works": e.g. "D. Martin Luthers Werke," Weimar edition, i. 1883, pp. 233-238. Cf. "Works of Martin Luther," Philadelphia, i. 1915, pp. 29-38; and Philip Schaff, "History of the Christian Church," vi. 1888, pp. 160-166.

4. A. Plummer, "The Continental Reformation," 1912, p. 98.

5. "History of the Christian Church," vi. 1888, p. 157.

6. Op. cit., p. 98.

7. "A History of the Reformation," ed. 2, i. 1912, p. 228.

8. E. Bratke, "Luther's 95 Thesen," 1884, pp. 275 and 279; cf. p. 273.

9. "Die 95 Thesen Luther's und der Anfang der Reformation," in Protestantische Monatshefte, v. 1901, pp. 434 ff.

10. "The Theology of Luther," i. 1897, p. 218 (Hay's translation, from the second German edition).

11. Op. cit., p. 157.

12. "Luthers werke," weimar edition, i. 1883, p. 599.

13. P. 582.

14. P. 542.

15. P. 543.

16. P. 541.

17. Pp. 543 f.

18. P. 544.

19. See "Martin Luther und die deutsche Reformation," ed. 2, 1917, p. 35.

20. "Luthers Werke," Weimar edition, i. 1883, p. 536.

21. "The Cambridge Modern History," i. 1902, p. 662.

22. "The Theology of Luther," i. 1897, p. 223 (Hay's translation, from the second German edition).

23. J. Janssen, "Geschichte des deutschen Volkes," ii. 1886, p. 75.

24. "Luthers Werke," ed. Weimar, vi. 1888, p. 497. Cf. "Works," Philadelphia, ii. 1916, p. 170.

25. "Werke," vii. 1897, p. 125.

26. From his letter to George Spalatin, written at Augsburg, October 14, 1518: E. L. Enders, "M. Luther's Briefwechsel," i. 1884, pp. 246-247.

27. "Luthers sämmtliche Schriften," Walch edition, xv. 1899, col. 578; cf. " Werke," Weimar edition, ii. 1884, p. 13.

28. "Werke," ed. Weimar, i. 1883, p. 604.

29. P. 596.

30. P. 593.

31. P. 596.

32. P. 595,

33. P. 595.

34. To Jerome Scultetus, Bishop of Brandenburg: Enders, "Briefwecheel," i. 1884, p. 148.

35. To Spalatin, February 15, 1518: Enders, "Briefwechsel," i. 1884, p. 155.

36. Op. cit., p. 315.

Edwards and the New England Theology1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Jonathan Edwards, saint and metaphysician, revivalist and theologian, stands out as the one figure of real greatness in the intellectual life of colonial America. Born, bred, passing his whole life on the verge of civilization, he has made his voice heard wherever men have busied themselves with those two greatest topics which can engage human thought-God and the soul. A French philosopher of scant sympathy with Edwards' chief concernment writes:2

There are few names of the eighteenth century which have obtained such celebrity as that of Jonathan Edwards. Critics and historians down to our own day have praised in dithyrambic terms the logical vigor and the constructive powers of a writer whom they hold (as is done by Mackintosh, Dugald Stewart, Robert Hall, even Fichte) to be the greatest metaphysician America has yet produced. Who knows, they have asked themselves, to what heights this original genius might have risen, if, instead of being born in a half-savage country, far from the traditions of philosophy and science, he had appeared rather in our old world, and there received the direct impulse of the modern mind. Perhaps he would have taken a place between Leibniz and Kant among the founders of immortal systems, instead of the work he has left reducing itself to a sublime and barbarous theology, which astonishes our reason and outrages our heart, the object of at once our horror and admiration.

Edwards' greatness is not, however, thus merely conjectural. He was no "mute, inglorious Milton," but the most articulate of men. Nor is it as a metaphysician that he makes his largest claim upon our admiration, subtle metaphysician as he showed himself to be. His ontological speculations, on which his title to recognition as a metaphysician mainly rests, belong to his extreme youth, and had been definitely put behind him at an age when most men first begin to probe such problems. It was, as Lyon indeed suggests, to theology that he gave his mature years and his most prolonged and searching thought, especially to the problems of sin and salvation. And these problems were approached by him not as purely theoretical, but as intensely practical ones. Therefore he was a man of action as truly as a man of thought, and powerfully wrought on his age, setting at work energies which have not yet spent their force. He is much more accurately characterized, therefore, by a philosopher of our own, who is as little in sympathy, however, with his main interests as Lyon himself. F. J. E. Woodbridge says:3

He was distinctly a great man. He did not merely express the thought of his time, or meet it simply in the spirit of his traditions. He stemmed it and moulded it. New England thought was already making toward that colorless theology which marked it later. That he checked. It was decidedly Arminian. He made it Calvinistic. . . . His time does not explain him.

Edwards had a remarkable philosophical bent; but he had an even more remarkable sense and taste for divine things; and, therefore (so Woodbridge concludes, with at least relative justice), "we remember him, not as the greatest of American philosophers, but as the greatest of American Calvinists."

I. THE PERIOD OF EDWARDS' PREPARATION

It was a very decadent New England into which Edwards was born, on 5th October 1703. The religious fervor which the Puritan immigrants had brought with them into the New World had not been able to propagate itself unimpaired to the third and fourth generation. Already in 1678, Increase Mather had bewailed that "the body of the rising generation is a poor, perishing, unconverted, and (except the Lord pour down His Spirit) an undone generation."4 There were general influences operative throughout Christendom at this epoch, depressing to the life of the spirit, which were not unfelt in New England; and these were reinforced there by the hardness of the conditions of existence in a raw land. Everywhere thinking and living alike were moving on a lowered plane; not merely spirituality but plain morality was suffering some eclipse. The churches felt compelled to recede from the high ideals which had been their heritage, and were introducing into their membership and admitting to their mysteries men who, though decent in life, made no profession of a change of heart. If only they had been themselves baptized, they were encouraged to offer their children for baptism (under the so-called "Half-Way Covenant"), and to come themselves to the Table of the Lord (conceived as a "converting ordinance"). The household into which Edwards was born, however, not only protected him from much of the evil which was pervading the community, but powerfully stimulated his spiritual and intellectual life. He began the study of Latin at the age of six, and by thirteen had acquired a respectable knowledge of "the three learned languages" which at the time formed part of the curricula of the colleges - Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. Before he had completed his thirteenth year (September 1716), he entered the "Collegiate School of Connecticut" (afterwards Yale College). During his second year at college he fell in with Locke's "Essay concerning Human Understanding," and had more satisfaction and pleasure in studying it, he tells us himself,5 "than the most greedy miser finds, when gathering up handfuls of silver and gold, from some newly discovered treasure." He graduated at the head of his class in 1720, when he was just short of seventeen years of age, but remained at college (as the custom of the time was) two years longer (to the summer of 1722) for the study of Divinity. In the summer of 1722 he was "approbated" to preach, and from August 1722 until April 1723 he supplied the pulpit of a little knot of Presbyterians in New York City.6 Returning home, he was appointed tutor at Yale in June 1724, and filled this post with distinguished ability, during a most trying period in the life of the college, for the next two years (until September 1726). His resignation of his tutorship was occasioned by an invitation to become the colleague and successor of his grandfather, Solomon Stoddard, in the pastorate of the church at Northampton, Mass., where, accordingly, he was ordained and installed on 15th February 1727.

By his installation at Northampton, Edwards' period of preparation was brought to a close. His preparation had been remarkable, both intensively and extensively. Born with a drop of ink in his veins, Edwards had almost from infancy held a pen in his hand. From his earliest youth he had been accustomed to trace out on paper to its last consequence every fertile thought which came to him. A number of the early products of his observation and reflection have been preserved, revealing a precocity which is almost beyond belief.7

It is in these youthful writings that Edwards propounds his spiritualistic metaphysics, and it is chiefly on the strength of them that he holds a place in our histories of philosophy. His whole system is already present in substance in the essay "Of Being," which was written before he was sixteen years of age. And, though there is no reason to believe that he ever renounced the opinions set forth in these youthful discussions - there are, on the contrary, occasional suggestions, even in his latest writings, that they still lurked at the back of his brain - he never formally reverts to them subsequently to his Yale period (up to 1727).8 His engagement with such topics belongs, therefore, distinctively to his formative period, before he became engrossed with the duties of the active ministry and the lines of thought more immediately called into exercise by them. In these early years, certainly independently of Berkeley,9 and apparently with no suggestion from outside beyond what might be derived from Newton's explanations of light and color, and Locke's treatment of sensation as the source of ideas, he worked out for himself a complete system of Idealism, which trembled indeed on the brink of mere phenomenalism, and might have betrayed him into Pantheism save for the intensity of his perception of the living God. "Speaking most strictly," he declares, "there is no proper substance but God Himself." The universe exists "nowhere but in the Divine mind." Whether this is true "with respect to bodies only," or of finite spirits as well, he seems at first to have wavered; ultimately he came to the more inclusive opinion.10

Edwards was not so absorbed in such speculations as to neglect the needs of his spirit. Throughout all these formative years he remained first of all a man of religion. He had been the subject of deep religious impressions from his earliest boyhood, and he gave himself, during this period of preparation, to the most assiduous and intense cultivation of his religious nature. "I made seeking my salvation," he himself tells us, "the main business of my life."11 But about the time of his graduation (1720) a change came over him, which relieved the strain of his inward distress. From his childhood, his mind had revolted against the sovereignty of God: "it used to appear like a horrible doctrine to me." Now all this passed unobservedly away; and gradually, by a process he could not trace, this very doctrine came to be not merely a matter of course to him but a matter of rejoicing: "The doctrine has very often appeared exceedingly pleasant, bright, and sweet; absolute sovereignty is what I love to ascribe to God." One day he was reading I Tim. i. 17, "Now unto the King, eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honor and glory, for ever and ever, Amen," and, as he read, "a sense of the glory of the Divine Being" took possession of him, "a new sense, quite different from anything" he "ever experienced before." He longed to be "rapt up to Him in heaven, and be as it were swallowed up in Him for ever."12 From that moment his understanding of divine things increased, and his enjoyment of God grew. There were, no doubt, intervals of depression. But, on the whole, his progress was steadily upwards and his consecration more and more complete. It was this devout young man, with the joy of the Lord in his heart, who turned his back in the early months of 1727 on his brilliant academic life and laid aside forever his philosophical speculations, to take up the work of a pastor at Northampton.

II. EDWARDS THE PASTOR

Edwards was ordained co-pastor with his grandfather on 15th February 1727, and on the latter's death, two years later, succeeded to the sole charge of the parish. Northampton was relatively a very important place. It was the county town, and nearly half of the area of the province lay within the county. It was, therefore, a sort of little local capital, and its people prided themselves on their culture, energy, and independence of mind. There was but the one church in the town, and it was probably the largest and most influential in the province, outside of Boston. It was not united in sentiment, being often torn with factional disputes. But, under the strong preaching of Solomon Stoddard, it had been repeatedly visited with revivals. These periods of awakening continued at intervals during Edwards' pastorate; the church became famous for them, and its membership was filled up by them. At one time the membership numbered six hundred and twenty, and included nearly the entire adult population of the town. Stoddard had been the protagonist for the laxer views of admission to Church-ordinances, and early in the century had introduced into the Northampton church the practice of opening the Lord's Supper to those who made no profession of conversion. In this practice Edwards at first acquiesced; but, becoming convinced that it was wrong, sought after a while to correct it, with disastrous consequences to himself. Meanwhile it had given to the membership of the church something of the character of a mixed multitude, which the circumstance that large numbers of them had been introduced in the religious excitement of revivals had tended to increase.

To the pastoral care of this important congregation, Edwards gave himself with single-hearted devotion. Assiduous house-to-house visitation did not, it is true, form part of his plan of work; but this did not argue carelessness or neglect; it was in accordance with his deliberate judgment of his special gifts and fitnesses. And, if he did not go to his people in their homes, save at the call of illness or special need, he encouraged them to come freely to him, and grudged neither time nor labor in meeting their individual requirements. He remained, of course, also a student, spending ordinarily from thirteen to fourteen ours daily in is study. This work did not separate itself from, but was kept strictly subsidiary to, his pastoral service. Not only had he turned his back definitely on the purely academic speculations which had engaged him so deeply at Yale, but he produced no purely theological works during the whole of his twenty-three years' pastorate at Northampton. His publications during this period, besides sermons, consisted only of treatises in practical Divinity. They deal principally with problems raised by the great religious awakenings in which his preaching was fruitful.13

It was in his sermons that Edwards' studies bore their richest fruit. He did not spare himself in his public instruction. He not only faithfully filled the regular appointments of the church, but freely undertook special discourses and lectures, and during times of "attention to religion" went frequently to the aid of the neighboring churches. From the first he was recognized as a remarkable preacher, as arresting and awakening as he was instructive. Filled himself with the profoundest sense of the heinousness of sin, as an offense against the majesty of God and an outrage of His love, he set himself to arouse his hearers to some realization of the horror of their condition as objects of the divine displeasure, and of the incredible goodness of God in intervening for their salvation. Side by side with the most moving portrayal of God's love in Christ, and of the blessedness of communion with Him, he therefore set, with the most startling effect, equally vivid pictures of the dangers of unforgiven sin and the terrors of the lost estate. The effect of such preaching, delivered with the force of the sincerest conviction, was overwhelming. A great awakening began in the church at the end of 1735, in which more than three hundred converts were gathered in,14 and which extended throughout the churches of the Connecticut valley. In connection with a visit from Whitefield in 1740 another wave of religious fervor was started, which did not spend its force until it covered the whole land. No one could recognize more fully than Edwards the evil that mixes with the good in such seasons of religious excitement. He diligently sought to curb excesses, and earnestly endeavored to separate the chaff from the wheat. But no one could protest more strongly against casting out the wheat with the chaff. He subjected all the phenomena of the revivals in which he participated to the most searching analytical study; and, while sadly acknowledging that much self-deception was possible, and that the rein could only too readily be given to false "enthusiasm," he earnestly contended that a genuine work of grace might find expression in mental and even physical excitement. It was one of the incidental fruits of these revivals that, as we have seen, he gave to the world in a series of studies perhaps the most thorough examination of the phenomena of religious excitement it has yet received, and certainly, in his great treatise on the "Religious Affections," one of the most complete systems of what has been strikingly called "spiritual diagnostics" it possesses.

For twenty-three years Edwards pursued his fruitful ministry at Northampton; under his guidance the church became a city set on a hill to which all eyes were turned. But in the reaction from the revival of 1740-1742 conditions arose which caused him great searchings of heart, and led ultimately to his separation from his congregation. In this revival, practically the whole adult population of the town was brought into the church; they were admitted under the excitement of the time and under a ruling introduced as long before as 1704 by Stoddard, which looked upon all the ordinances of the church, including the Lord's Supper, as "converting ordinances," not presupposing, but adapted to bring about, a change of heart. As time passed, it became evident enough that a considerable body of the existing membership of the church had not experienced that change of heart by which alone they could be constituted Christians, and indeed they made no claim to have done so. On giving serious study to the question for himself, Edwards became convinced that participation in the Lord's Supper could properly be allowed only to those professing real "conversion." It was his duty as pastor and guide of his people to guard the Lord's Table from profanation, and he was not a man to leave unperformed a duty clearly perceived. Two obvious measures presented themselves to him - unworthy members of the church must be exscinded by discipline, and greater care must be exercised in receiving new applicants for membership. No doubt discipline was among the functions which the Church claimed to exercise; but the practice of it had fallen much into decay as a sequence to the lowered conception which had come to be entertained of the requirements for church membership. The door of admission to the Lord's Supper, on the other hand, had been formally set wide open; and this loose policy had been persisted in for half a century, and had become traditional. What Edwards felt himself compelled to undertake, it will be seen, was a return in theory and practice to the original platform of the Congregational churches, which conceived the Church to be, in the strictest sense of the words, "a company of saints by calling," among whom there should be permitted to enter nothing that was not clean.15 This, which should have been his strength, and which ultimately gave the victory to the movement which he inaugurated throughout the churches of New England,16 was in his own personal case his weakness. It gave a radical appearance to the reforms which he advocated, which he himself was far from giving to them. It is not necessary to go into the details of the controversy regarding a case of discipline, which emerged in 1744, or the subsequent difficulties (1748-1749) regarding the conditions of admission to the Lord's Supper. The result was that, after a sharp contest running through two years, Edwards was dismissed from his pastorate on 22d June 1750.

III. EDWARDS THE THEOLOGIAN

By his dismissal from his church at Northampton, in his forty-seventh year, the second period of Edwards' life - the period of strenuous pastoral labor - was brought to an abrupt close. After a few months he removed to the little frontier hamlet (there were only twelve white families resident there) of Stockbridge, as missionary of the "Society in London for Propagating the Gospel in New England and the Parts Adjacent" to the Housatonic Indians gathered there, and as pastor of the little church of white settlers. In this exile he hoped to find leisure to write, in defense of the Calvinistic system against the rampant "Arminianism" of the day, the works which he had long had in contemplation, and for which he had made large preparation. Peace and quiet he did not find; he was embroiled from the first in a trying struggle against the greed and corruption of the administrators of the funds designed for the benefit of the Indians. But he made, if he could not find, the requisite leisure. It was at Stockbridge that he wrote the treatises on which his fame as a theologian chiefly rests: the great works on the Will (written in 1753, published in 1754), and Original Sin (in the press when he died, 1758), the striking essays on "The End for which God created the World," and the "Nature of True Virtue" (published 1765, after his death), and the unfinished "History of Redemption" (published 1772). No doubt he utilized for these works material previously collected. He lived practically with his pen in his hand, and accumulated an immense amount of written matter - his "best thoughts," as it has been felicitously called. The work on the Will, indeed, had itself been long on the stocks. We find him making diligent studies for it already at the opening of 1747;17 and, though his work on it was repeatedly interrupted for long intervals,18 he tells us that before he left Northampton he "had made considerable preparation, and was deeply engaged in the prosecution of this design."19 The rapid completion of the book in the course of a few months in 1753 was not, therefore, so wonderful a feat as it might otherwise appear. Nevertheless, it is the seven years at Stockbridge which deserve to be called the fruitful years of Edwards' theological work. They were interrupted in the autumn of 1757 by an invitation to him to become the President of the College of New Jersey, at Princeton, in succession to his son-in-law, Aaron Burr. It was with great reluctance that he accepted this call; it seemed to him to threaten the prevention of what he had thought to make his life-work - the preparation, to wit, of a series of volumes on all the several parts of the Arminian controversy.20 But the college at Princeton, which had been founded and thus far carried on by men whose sympathies were with the warm-hearted, revivalistic piety to which his own life had been dedicated, had claims upon him which he could not disown. On the advice of a council of his friends,21 therefore, he accepted the call and removed to Princeton to take up his new duties, in January 1758. There he was inoculated for smallpox on 13th February, and died of this disease on 22d March in the fifty-fifth year of his age.

The peculiarity of Edwards' theological work is due to the union in it of the richest religious sentiment with the highest intellectual powers. He was first of all a man of faith, and it is this that gives its character to his whole life and all its products; but his strong religious feeling had at its disposal a mental force and logical acuteness of the first order; he was at once deeply emotional, and, as Ezra Stiles called him, a "strong reasoner." His analytical subtlety has probably never been surpassed; but with it was combined a broad grasp of religious truth which enabled him to see it as a whole, and to deal with its several parts without exaggeration and with a sense of their relations in the system. The system to which he gave his sincere adhesion, and to the defense of which, against the tendencies which were in his day threatening to undermine it, he consecrated all his powers, was simply Calvinism. From this system as it had been expounded by its chief representatives he did not consciously depart in any of its constitutive elements. The breadth and particularity of his acquaintance with it in its classical expounders, and the completeness of his adoption of it in his own thought, are frequently underestimated. There is a true sense in which he was a man of thought rather than of learning. There were no great libraries accessible in Western Massachusetts in the middle of the eighteenth century. His native disposition to reason out for himself the subjects which were presented to his thought was reinforced by his habits of study; it was his custom to develop on paper, to its furthest logical consequences, every topic of importance to which his attention was directed. He lived in the "age of reason," and was in this respect a true child of his time.22 In the task which he undertook, furthermore, an appeal to authority would have been useless; it was uniquely to the court of reason that he could hale the adversaries of the Calvinistic system. Accordingly it is only in his more didactic - as distinguished from controversial - treatise on "Religious Affections," that Edwards cites with any frequency earlier writers in support of his positions. The reader must guard himself, however, from the illusion that Edwards was not himself conscious of the support of earlier writers beneath him.23 His acquaintance with the masters of the system of thought he was defending, for example, was wide and minute. Amesius and Wollebius had been his textbooks at college. The well-selected library at Yale, we may be sure, had been thoroughly explored by him; at the close of his divinity studies, he speaks of the reading of "doctrinal books or books of controversy" as if it were part of his daily business.24 As would have been expected, he fed himself on the great Puritan divines, and formed not merely his thought but his life upon them. We find him in his youth, for instance, diligently using Manton's "Sermons on the 119th Psalm" as a spiritual guide; and in his rare allusions to authorities in his works, he betrays familiarity with such writers as William Perkins, John Preston, Thomas Blake, Anthony Burgess, Stephen Charnock, John Flavel, Theophilus Gale, Thomas Goodwin, John Owen, Samuel Rutherford, Thomas Shephard, Richard Sibbes, John Smith the Platonist, and Samuel Clark the Arian. Even his contemporaries he knew and estimated at their true values: Isaac Watts and Philip Doddridge as a matter of course; and also Thomas Boston, the scheme of thought of whose "View of the Covenant of Grace" he confessed he did not understand, but whose "Fourfold State of Man" he "liked exceedingly well."25 His Calvin he certainly knew thoroughly, though he would not swear in his words;26 and also his Turretin, whom he speaks of as "the great Turretine";27 while van Mastricht he declares "much better" than even Turretin, "or," he adds with some fervor, "than any other book in the world, excepting the Bible, in my opinion."28 The close agreement of his teaching with that of the best esteemed Calvinistic divines is, therefore, both conscious and deliberate; his omission to appeal to them does not argue either ignorance or contempt; it is incident to his habitual manner and to the special task he was prosecuting. In point of fact, what he teaches is just the "standard" Calvinism in its completeness.

As an independent thinker, he is, of course, not without his individualisms, and that in conception no less than in expression. His explanation of the identity of the human race with its Head, founded as it is on a doctrine of personal identity which reduces it to an "arbitrary constitution" of God, binding its successive moments together, is peculiar to himself.29 In answering objections to the doctrine of Original Sin, he appeals at one point to Stapfer, and speaks, after him, in the language of that form of doctrine known as "mediate imputation."30 But this is only in order to illustrate his own view that all mankind are one as truly as and by the same kind of divine constitution that an individual life is one in its consecutive moments. Even in this immediate context he does not teach the doctrine of "mediate imputation," insisting rather that, Adam and his posterity being in the strictest sense one, in them no less than in him "the guilt arising from the first existing of a depraved disposition" cannot at all be distinguished from "the guilt of Adam's first sin"; and elsewhere throughout the treatise he speaks in the terms of the common Calvinistic doctrine. His most marked individualism, however, lay in the region of philosophy rather than of theology. In an essay on "The Nature of True Virtue," he develops, in opposition to the view that all virtue may be reduced ultimately to self-love, an eccentric theory of virtue as consisting in love to being in general. But of this again we hear nothing elsewhere in his works, though it became germinal for the New England theology of the next age. Such individualisms in any case are in no way characteristic of his teaching. He strove after no show of originality. An independent thinker he certainly claimed to be, and "utterly disclaimed a dependence," say, "on Calvin," in the sense of "believing the doctrines he held because Calvin believed and taught them."31 This very disclaimer is, however, a proclamation of agreement with Calvin, though not as if he "believed everything just as Calvin taught"; he is only solicitous that he should be understood to be not a blind follower of Calvin, but a convinced defender of Calvinism. His one concern was, accordingly, not to improve on the Calvinism of the great expounders of the system, but to place the main elements of the Calvinistic system, as commonly understood, beyond cavil. His marvelous invention was employed, therefore, only in the discovery and development of the fullest and most convincing possible array of arguments in their favor. This is true even of his great treatise on the Will. This is, in the common judgment, the greatest of all his treatises, and the common judgment here is right.32 But the doctrine of this treatise is precisely the doctrine of the Calvinistic schoolmen. "The novelty of the treatise," we have been well told long ago,33 "lies not in the position it takes and defends, but in the multitude of proofs, the fecundity and urgency of the arguments by which he maintains it." Edwards' originality thus consists less in the content of his thought than in his manner of thinking. He enters into the great tradition which had come down to him, and "infuses it with his personality and makes it live," and "the vitality of his thought gives to its product the value of a unique creation."34 The effect of Edwards' labors was quite in the line of his purpose, and not disproportionate to his greatness. The movement against Calvinism which was overspreading the land was in a great measure checked, and the elimination of Calvinism as a determining factor in the thought of New England, which seemed to be imminent as he wrote, was postponed for more than a hundred years.35

IV. THE NEW ENGLAND THEOLOGY

It was Edwards' misfortune that he gave his name to a party; and to a party which, never in perfect agreement with him in its doctrinal ideas, finished by becoming the earnest advocate of (as it has been sharply expressed36) "a set of opinions which he gained his chief celebrity in demolishing." The affiliation of this party with Edwards was very direct. "Bellamy . . . and Hopkins," says G. P. Fisher,37 tracing the descent, "were pupils of Edwards; from Hopkins, West derived his theology; Smalley studied with Bellamy, and Emmons with Smalley." But the inheritance of the party from Edwards showed itself much more strongly on the practical than on the doctrinal side. Its members were the heirs of his revivalist zeal and of his awakening preaching; they also imitated his attempt to purify the Church by discipline and strict guarding of the Lord's Table - in a word, to restore the Church to its Puritan ideal of a congregation of saints.38 Pressing to extremes in both matters, as followers will, the "Edwardeans" or "New Divinity" men became a ferment in the churches of New England, and, creating discussion and disturbances everywhere, gradually won their way to dominance. Meanwhile their doctrinal teaching was continually suffering change. As Fisher (p. 7) puts it, "in the process of defending the established faith, they were led to recast it in new forms and to change its aspect." Only, it was not merely the form and aspect of their inherited faith, but its substance, that they were steadily transforming. Accordingly, Fisher proceeds to explain that what on this side constituted their common character was not so much a common doctrine as a common method: " the fact that their views were the result of independent reflection and were maintained on philosophical grounds." Here, too, they were followers of Edwards; but in - their exaggeration of his rational method, without his solid grounding in the history of thought, they lost continuity with the past and became the creators of a "New England theology" which it is only right frankly to describe as provincial.39

It is a far cry from Jonathan Edwards the Calvinist, defending with all the force of his unsurpassed reasoning powers the doctrine of a determined will, and commending a theory of virtue which identified it with general benevolence, to Nathaniel W. Taylor the Pelagianizer, building his system upon the doctrine of the power to the contrary as its foundation stone, and reducing all virtue ultimately to self-love. Taylor's teaching, in point of fact, was in many respects the exact antipodes of Edwards', and very fairly reproduced the congeries of tendencies which the latter considered it his lifework to withstand. Yet Taylor looked upon himself as an "Edwardean," though in him the outcome of the long development received its first appropriate designation - the "New Haven Divinity." Its several successive phases were bound together by the no doubt external circumstance that they were taught in general by men who had received their training at New Haven.

The growth of the New Divinity to that dominance in the theological thought of New England from which it derives its claim to be called "the New England Theology" was gradual, though somewhat rapid. Samuel Hopkins tells us that at the beginning - in 1756 - there were not more than four or five "who espoused the sentiments which since have been called 'Edwardean,' and 'New Divinity'; and since, after some improvement was made upon them, 'Hopkintonian,' or 'Hopkinsian' sentiments."40 The younger Edwards still spoke of them in 1777 as a small party.41 In 1787, Ezra Stiles, chafing under their growing influence and marking the increasing divergence of views among themselves, fancied he saw their end approaching.42 In this he was mistaken: the New Divinity, in the person of Timothy Dwight, succeeded him as President of Yale College, and through a long series of years was infused into generation after generation of students.43 The "confusions" Stiles observed were, however, real; or, rather, the progressive giving way of the so-called Edwardeans to those tendencies of thought to which they were originally set in opposition.44 The younger Edwards drew up a careful account of what he deemed the (ten) "Improvements in Theology made by President Edwards and those who have followed his course of thought."45 Three of the most cardinal of these he does not pretend were introduced by Edwards, attributing them simply to those whom he calls Edwards' "followers." These are the substitution of the Governmental (Grotian) for the Satisfaction doctrine of the Atonement, in the accomplishment of which he himself, with partial forerunners in Bellamy and West, was the chief agent; the discarding of the doctrine of the imputation of sin in favor of the view that men are condemned for their own personal sin only - a contention which was made in an extreme form by Nathaniel Emmons, who confined all moral quality to acts of volition, and afterwards became a leading element in Nathaniel W. Taylor's system; and the perversion of Edwards' distinction between "natural" and "moral" inability so as to ground on the "natural" ability of the unregenerate, after the fashion introduced by Samuel Hopkins46 - a theory of the capacities and duties of men without the Spirit, which afterwards, in the hands of Nathaniel W. Taylor, became the core of a new Pelagianizing system.

The external victory of the New Divinity in New England was marked doubtless by the election of Timothy Dwight to the Presidency of Yale College (1795); and certainly it could have found no one better fitted to commend it to moderate men; probably no written system of theology has ever enjoyed wider acceptance than Dwight's "Sermons."47 But after Dwight came Taylor, and in the teaching of the latter the downward movement of the New Divinity ran out into a system which turned, as on its hinge, upon the Pelagianizing doctrines of the native sinlessness of the race, the plenary ability of the sinner to renovate his own soul, and self-love or the desire for happiness as the spring of all voluntary action. From this extreme some reaction was inevitable, and the history of the so-called "New England Theology" closes with the moderate reaction of the teaching of Edwards A. Park. Park was of that line of theological descent which came through Hopkins, Emmons, and Woods; but he sought to incorporate into his system all that seemed to him to be the results of New England thinking for the century which preceded him, not excepting the extreme positions of Taylor himself. Reverting so far from Taylor as to return to perhaps a somewhat more deterministic doctrine of the will, he was able to rise above Taylor in his doctrines of election and regeneration, and to give to the general type of thought which he represented a lease of life for another generation. But, with the death of Park in 1900, the history of "New England Theology" seems to come to an end.48

LITERATURE: A. A list of Edwards' works is given by Dwight, i. pp. 765 f.; S. Miller, 254 ff.; and Ridderbos, 327 ff. (opp. cit. infra). A brief bibliography will be found in Allen, op. cit. infra, pp. 391 ff. The first edition of Edwards' Works was in 8 vols., ed. S. Austin, Worcester, Mass., 1808-1809. This edition has been frequently reproduced in 4 vols.: New York, 1844, 1852, 1856, 1863, 1881. A new and enlarged edition in 10 vols., ed. S. E. Dwight, vol. i. being a Memoir, appeared at New York, 1829. An edition was published at London in 8 vols., 1837, to which 2 supplementary vols. were added, Edinburgh, 1847. Later British editions are: London, 1840, with Dwight's Memoir and an Essay by H. Rogers; London, 1865 (Bohn), in 2 vols. Additional writings of Edwards have been published: "Charity and its Fruits," ed. Tryon Edwards, London, 1852 (subsequently reissued under the title "Christian Love, as Manifested in the Heart and Life," ed. 6, Philadelphia, 1874); "Selections from the Unpublished Writings of Jonathan Edwards," edited with an introduction by A. B. Grosart, Edinburgh, 1865; "Observations concerning the Scripture Economy of the Trinity," edited with an introduction by Egbert C. Smyth, New York, 1880; "An Unpublished Essay of Edwards on the Trinity," edited with an introduction by George P. Fisher, New York, 1903; "Selected Sermons of Jonathan Edwards," edited with an introduction and notes by H. N. Gardiner, New York and London, 1904 (contains one new sermon).

B. For life, etc., see S. Hopkins, "The Life and Character of the late Reverend . . . Mr. Jonathan Edwards," Boston, 1765, Northampton, 1804; S. E. Dwight, "Memoir," being vol. i. of his edition of the "Works" (see above), New York, 1829; S. Miller, "Life of Jonathan Edwards," Boston, 1837 and 1848 (vol. viii. of first series of Jared Sparks's "The Library of American Biography") ; A. V. G. Allen, "Jonathan Edwards," Boston and New York, 1889; Williston Walker, "Ten New England Leaders," Boston and New York, 1901, pp. 215-263; idem, "A History of the Congregational Churches in the United States," New York, 1894, chaps. vii. viii. ix.; Joseph Tracy, "The Great Awakening," Boston, 1842.

C. The most comprehensive survey of Edwards' theological teaching is given by Jan Ridderbos, "De Theologie van Jonathan Edwards," The Hague, 1907; see also G. P. Fisher, "Discussions in History and Theology," New York, 1880, pp. 227-252; Noah Porter, "The Princeton Review ... and the Edwardean Theology," in The New Englander, xviii. 1860, pp. 737 ff.; H. N. Gardiner, "Jonathan Edwards: a Retrospect," Boston and New York, 1901; "Exercises Commemorating the Two-Hundredth Anniversary of the Birth of Jonathan Edwards, held at Andover Theological Seminary," Andover, 1904.

D. The New England Theology should be studied in the works of its chief exponents. Lives of many of them are also accessible. See also F. H. Foster, "A Genetic History of the New England Theology," Chicago, 1907; G. N. Boardman, "A History of New England Theology," New York, 1899; C. Hodge, "Princeton Essays," first series, 1846, pp. 285-307, second series, 1847, pp. 206-235, "Essays and Reviews," 1856, pp. 539-633; Lyman H. Atwater, The Biblical Repertory and Princeton Review, xxvi. 1854, pp. 217-246, xxx. 1858, pp. 585-620, xxxi. 1859, pp. 489-538, xl. 1868, pp. 368398; Edwards A. Park, "The Atonement," Boston, 1859; G. P. Fisher, "Discussions in History and Theology," pp. 285-354; H. B. Smith, "Faith and Philosophy," New York, 1877, pp. 215-264.

Endnotes:

1. Reprinted from the "Encyclopwdia of Religion and Ethics," edited by James Hastings, M.A., D.D., v. 1912, pp. 221-227. Used by permission of the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons.

2. Georges Lyon, "L'Idéalisme en Angleterre au XVIIIe siècle," Paris, 1888, pp. 406f.

3. The Philosophical Review, xiii. 1904, p. 405.

4. H. M. Dexter, "Congregationalism ... in its Literature," New York, 1880, p. 476, note 36.

5. Dwight's "Memoir," prefixed to his edition of Edwards' "Works," i. 1829, p. 30.

6. See E. H. Gillett, "History of the Presbyterian Church," revised edition, Philadelphia, pp. 38f.

7. On this ground, indeed, Lyon, for example, refuses to believe in their genuineness. It is futile to adduce the parallel of a Pascal, he declares; such a comparison is much too modest; the young Edwards united in himself many Pascals, and, by a double miracle, combined with them gifts by virtue of which he far surpassed a Galileo and a Newton; what we are asked to believe is not merely that as a boy in his teens he worked out independently a system of metaphysics closely similar to that of Berkeley, but that he anticipated most of the scientific discoveries which constitute the glory of the succeeding century.
It is well to recognize that Lyon has permitted himself some slight exaggeration in stating his case, for the renewed examination of the MSS. which he, and, following him, A. V. G. Allen asked for, has fully vindicated the youthful origin of these discussions. (See especially Egbert C. Smyth, "Some Early Writings of Jonathan Edwards, 1714-1726," in "Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society," New Series, x. 1896, pp. 212 ff.: 23d October, 1895; also The American Journal of Theology, i. 1897, p. 951; cf. H. N. Gardiner, "Jonathan Edwards: a Retrospect," 1901.) There is, for instance, a bantering letter on the immateriality of the soul, full of marks of immaturity, no doubt, but equally full of the signs of promise, which was written in 1714-1715, when Edwards was ten years old. There are some very acute observations on the behavior of spiders in spinning their webs which anticipate the results of modern investigation (on these observations, see Egbert C. Smyth, The Andover Review, xiii. 1890, pp. 1-19; and Henry C. McCook, The Presbyterian and Reformed Review, i. 1890, pp. 393-402), and which cannot have been written later than his thirteenth year. There are, above all, metaphysical discussions of "Being," "Atoms," and "Prejudices of Imagination," written at least as early as his junior year at college, that is to say, his sixteenth year, in which the fundamental principles of his Idealistic philosophy are fully set out. And, besides numerous other discussions following out these views, there is a long series of notes on natural science, filled with acute suggestions, which must belong to his Yale period. It is all, no doubt, very remarkable. But this only shows that Edwards was a very remarkable youth.

8. Cf. President T. D. woolsey, " Edwards Memorial," Boston, 1870, pp. 32-33; and E. C. Smyth, "Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society," as cited, p. 232; H. N. Gardiner, p. 117.

9. So E. C. Smyth and H. N. Gardiner, locc. cit.; it is now known that he had not read Berkeley before 1730 (F. B. Dexter, "The Manuscripts of Jonathan Edwards," Cambridge, 1901, p. 16).

10. He could write of the rise of a new thought: "If we mean that there is some substance besides that thought, that brings that thought forth; if it be God, I acknowledge it; but if there be meant something else that has no properties, it seems to me absurd" (American Journal of Theology, i. 1897, p. 957). Of "all dependent existence whatsoever" he comes at last to affirm that it is "in a constant flux," "renewed every moment, as the colors of bodies are every moment renewed by the light that shines upon them; and all is constantly proceeding from God, as light from the sun" ("Original Sin": "Works," 4 vol. edition, New York, ii. 1856, p. 490). He did not mean by this, however, to sublimate the universe into "shadows." He was only attempting to declare that it has no other substrate but God: that its reality and persistence are grounded, not in some mysterious created "substance" underlying the properties, but in the " infinitely exact and precise Divine Idea, together with an answerable, perfectly exact, precise and stable Will, with respect to correspondent communications to Created Minds, and effects on their minds" (Dwight, i, p. 674). He is engaged, in other words, in a purely ontological investigation, and his contention is merely that God is the continuum of all finite existence. He is as far as possible from denying the reality or persistence of these finite existences; they are to him real "creations," because they represent a fixed purpose and an established constitution of God. (On Edwards' early Idealism, see especially Egbert C. Smyth, American Journal of Theology, i. 1897, pp. 959f.; G. P. Fisher, "Diacussions in History and Theology," New York, 1880, pp. 229 f.; H. N. Gardiner, op. cit., pp. 115-160; J. H. MacCracken, "The Sources of Jonathan Edwards's Idealism," in the Philosophical Review, xi. 1902, pp. 26 ff.; also G. Lyon, loc. cit.; and I. W. Riley, "American Philosophy: the Early Schools," New York, 1907.)

11. Dwight, i. p. 59.

12. Ibid., p. 60.

13. Such, for instance, are the "Narrative of Surprising Conversions," published in 1736, the "Thoughts on the Revival of Religion in New England in 1740," published in 1742, and that very searching study of the movements of the human soul under the excitement of religious motives called "A Treatise concerning Religious Affections," published in 1746. Then there is the "Humble Attempt to Promote Explicit Agreement and Visible Union of God's People in Extraordinary Prayer for the Revival of Religion," published in 1749, which belongs to the same class, and the brief "Account of the Life of the Rev. David Brainerd," published in the same year. There remains only the "Humble Inquiry into the Rules of the Word of God, concerning the Qualifications requisite to a Complete Standing in Full Communion in the Visible Church of God," published in 1749, along with which should be mentioned the defense of its positions against Solomon Williams, entitled "Misrepresentations Corrected and Truth Vindicated," although this was not published until somewhat later (1752). No doubt there was much more than this written during these score or more of years, for Edwards was continually adding to the mass of his manuscript treasures; and some of these voluminous "observations" have since been put into print, although the greater part of them remain yet in the notebooks where he wrote them.

14. More than five hundred fifty members were added to the church at Northampton during Edwards' pastorate (see Solomon Clark, "Historical Catalogue of the Northampton First Church," 1891, pp. 40-67).

15. According to the organic law of the Congregational churches (the Cambridge Platform), "saints by calling" are "such as have not only attained the knowledge of the principles of religion, and are free from gross and open scandals, but also do, together with the profession of their faith and repentance, walk in blameless obedience to the word."

16. Cf. H. N. Gardiner, "Selected Sermons of Jonathan Edwards," New York, 1904, p. xii.

17. Letter to Joseph Bellamy, 15th January 1747, printed by F. B. Dexter, "The Manuscripts of Jonathan Edwards" (reprinted from the "Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society," March 1901), p. 13; letter to John Erskine, 22d January 1747, reconstructed by Dwight, i. pp. 249-250, but since come to light ("Exercises Commemorating the Two-Hundredth Anniversary of the Birth of Jonathan Edwards, held at Andover Theological Seminary, October 4 and 5, 1903," Andover, 1904, p. 63 of the Appendices).

18. Dwight, i. pp. 251, 270, 411.

19. Ibid., pp. 411, 507, 532, 537.

20. Ibid., p. 569.

21. Dwight (i. p. 576) was not able to ascertain all the facts concerning this council; Ezra Stiles, "Literary Diary," New York, iii. 1901, p. 4, supplies interesting details.

22. Cf. the discussion of Edwards' "rationalism," by Jan Ridderbos, "De Theologie van Jonathan Edwards," 1907, pp. 310-313.

23. Hopkins tells us that "he had an enormous thirst for knowledge, in the pursuit of which he spared no cost or pains. He read all the books, especially books treating of theology, that he could procure, from which he could hope to derive any assistance in the discovery of truth." From his youth up, however, he disliked a display of learning. In his earliest maxims, by the side of "Let much modesty be seen in the style," he sets this other: "Let it not look as if I was much read, or was conversant with books, or with the learned world" (Dwight, i. pp. 41 f.).

24. Dwight, i. p. 93.

25. Ibid., p. 242.

26. Preface to the treatise on the Will, Dwight, ii. 1829, p. 13.

27. "Works," 4 vol. edition, iii. 1856, p. 123, note.

28. Letter to Joseph Bellamy, 15th January 1747, printed by F. B. Dexter, op. cit., p. 13.

29. "Works," 4 vol. edition, ii. 1856, pp. 489 ff.; Dwight, ii. pp. 555 f.

30. "Works," 4 vol. edition, ii. pp. 483 f.; Dwight, ii. pp. 544 f.

31. Dwight, ii. p. 13.

32. Cf. F. J. E. Woodbridge, in The Philosophical Review, xiii. 1904, p. 396; and G. Lyon, op. cit., p. 412.

33. Lyman H. Atwater, The Biblical Repertory and Princeton Review, xxx. 1858, p. 597.

34. H. N. Gardiner, "Selected Sermons," 1904, p. xviii.

35. Cf. Williston Walker, "Ten New England Leaders," 1901, p. 232.

36. Lyman H. Atwater, p. 589; cf. J. Ridderbos, pp. 320 f.

37. "A Discourse Commemorative of the History of the Church of Christ in Yale College during the First Century of its Existence," New Haven, 1858, p. 36.

38. On the "rigidity" of the New Divinity men in "Church administration" and "discipline," see the interesting details in Ezra Stiles's " Diary," iii. 1901, pp. 273 f., 343 f., 358 f.

39. Cf. Woodbridge, in The Philosophical Review, xiii. 1904, pp. 394 f. The men who worked out this theological transmutation were men of high character, great intellectual gifts, immense energy of thought, and what may almost be called fatal logical facility. Any people might be proud to have produced in the course of a century such a series of "strong reasoners" on religious themes as Joseph Bellamy (1719-1790), Samuel Hopkins (1721-1803), Stephen West (1735-1819), John Smalley (1734-1820), Jonathan Edwards, Jr. (1745-1801), Nathaniel Emmons (1745-1840), Timothy Dwight (1752-1817), Eleazar T. Fitch (1791-1871), and Nathaniel W. Taylor (17861858) - all, with the single exception of the younger Edwards, graduates of Yale College; not to speak of yet others of equal powers, lying more off the line of direct development, like Leonard Woods (1774-1854), Bennet Tyler (1783-1858), Edward D. Griffin (1770-1837), Moses Stuart (1780-1852), Lyman Beecher (1775-1863), Charles G. Finney (1792-1875), Leonard Bacon (18021881), Horace Bushnell (1802-1876), and Edwards A. Park (1808-1900).

40. E. A. Park, "Memoir of the Life and Character of Samuel Hopkins, D.D.," Boston, 1854, p. 237; Fisher, "A Discourse," as cited, p. 80.

41. Ezra Stiles, ii. 1901, p. 227; Fisher, loc. cit.

42. "It has been the Ton," he writes (Ezra Stiles, iii. pp. 273-275), "to direct Students in divinity these thirty years past or a generation to read the Bible, President Edwards', Dr. Bellamy's, and Mr. Hopkins' Writings - and this was a pretty good Sufficiency of Reading." But now, "the New Divinity Gentlemen are getting into Confusion and running into different sentiments." "The younger Class, but yet in full vigor, suppose they see further than these Oracles, and are disposed to become Oracles themselves and wish to write Theology and have their own Books come into Vogue." He thought these "confusions" the beginning of the end.

43. Young Theodore D. Woolsey in 1822 can speak of "Hopkinsianism" as "a sort of net which catches all but the Presbyterian eels who slip through." It had become, he says, "a general term which comprehends all who are not Arminians and disagree with Turretin on the atonement" (Yale Review, i. 1912 [January], p. 246).

44. We note Hopkins already conscious of divergence from Edwards' teaching - a divergence which he calls an "improvement." Ezra Stiles tells us (iii. pp. 273 f.) that in 1787 the New Divinity men were beginning to "deny a real vicarious Suffering in Christ's Atonement," and were "generally giving up the Doctrine of Imputation both in Original Sin and in Justification"; and some of them, "receding from disinterested Benevolence, are going into the Idea that all holy Motive operates as terminating in personal Happiness," - a very fair statement of the actual drift.

45. Published in Dwight, i. pp. 613 ff.

46. Cf. G. N. Boardman, "A History of New England Theology," New York, 1899, p. 50.

47. Cf. G. P. Fisher, "A Discourse," as cited, p. 37: "No work on systematic divinity has had such currency and authority in Great Britain, at least outside the established Church of England, as the Sermons of Dr. Dwight. In that country they have passed through not less than forty editions."

48. Cf. F. H. Foster, "A Genetic History of the New England Theology," Chicago, 1907, pp. 543-553 ("Conclusion"), where the fact is fully recognized, though the reasons assigned for it are questionable.

Charles Darwin's Religious Life: A Sketch in Spiritual Biography1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

There was a great deal of discussion in the newspapers, about the time of Mr. Darwin's death, concerning his religious opinions, provoked, in part, by the publication of a letter written by him in 1879 to a Jena student, in reply to inquiries as to his views with reference to a revelation and a future life;2 in part by a report published by Drs. Aveling and Büchner of an interview which they had had with him during the last year of his life.3 Of course the appearance of the elaborate "Life and Letters" by his son4 has now put an end to all possible doubt as to so simple a matter. Mr. Darwin describes himself as living generally, and more and more as he grew older, in a state of mind which, with much fluctuation of judgment from a cold theism down the scale, never reaching, however, a dogmatic atheism, would be best described as agnosticism.5 But the "Life and Letters" does far more for us than merely determine this fact. "In the three huge volumes which are put forth to embalm the philosopher's name," as Blackwood somewhat flippantly expresses it, "he is observed like one of his own specimens under the microscope, and every peculiarity recorded, for all the world as if a philosopher were as important as a mollusc, though we can scarcely hope that a son of Darwin's would commit himself to such a revolutionary view."6 The result of this excessively minute description, and all the more because it is so lacking in proportion and perspective, is that we are put in possession of abundant material for tracing the evolution of his life and opinions with an accuracy and fullness of detail seldom equaled in the literature of biography. For example, although the book was not written in order to depict Mr. Darwin's "inward life," it is quite possible to arrange out of the facts it gives a fairly complete history of his spiritual changes. And this proves unexpectedly interesting. Such men as Bunyan and Augustine and St. Paul himself have opened to us their spiritual growth from darkness into light, and made us familiar with every phase of the struggle by which a spirit moves upward to the hope of glory. Such a writer as Rousseau lifts for us a corner of the veil that hides from view the depths of an essentially evil nature. But we have lacked any complete record of the experiences of an essentially noble soul about which the shades of doubt are slowly gathering. This it is that Mr. Darwin's "Life" gives us.

No one who reads the "Life and Letters" will think of doubting the unusual sweetness of Mr. Darwin's character. In his school-days he is painted by his fellow students as "cheerful, good-tempered, and communicative."7 At college, we see him, through his companions' eyes, as "the most genial, warmhearted, generous, and affectionate of friends," with sympathies alive for "all that was good and true," and "a cordial hatred for everything false, or vile, or cruel, or mean, or dishonorable" - in a word, as one "pre-eminently good, and just, and lovable."8 A co-laborer with him in the high studies of his mature life sums up his impressions of his whole character in equally striking words: "Those who knew Charles Darwin," he says, "most intimately are unanimous in their appreciation of the unsurpassed nobility and beauty of his whole character. In him there was no 'other side.' Not only was he the Philosopher who has wrought a greater revolution in human thought within a quarter of a century than any man of our time - or perhaps of any time -. . . but as a Man he exemplified in his own life that true religion, which is deeper, wider, and loftier than any Theology. For this not only inspired him with the devotion to Truth which was the master-passion of his great nature; but made him the most admirable husband, brother, and father; the kindest friend, neighbour, and master; the genuine lover, not only of his fellow-man, but of every creature."9 Mr. Darwin himself doubted whether the religious sentiment was ever strongly developed in him,10 but this opinion was written in his later years, and the context shows that there is an emphasis upon the word "sentiment." There was, on the other hand, a truly religious coloring thrown over all his earlier years, and the fruits of religion never left his life. But, nevertheless, there gradually faded out from his thought all purely religious concepts, and there gradually died out of his heart all the higher religious sentiments, together with all the accompanying consolations, hopes, and aspirations. On the quiet stage of this amiable life there is played out before our eyes the tragedy of the death of religion out of a human soul. The spectacle is none the less instructive that it is offered in the case of one before whom we gladly doff our hats in true and admiring reverence.

The first clear glimpse which we get of the future philosopher, as a child, is a very attractive one. He seems to have been sweet-tempered, simple-hearted, conscientious, not without his childish faults, but with a full supply of childish virtues. Here is a pretty picture. Being sent, at about the age of nine years, to Mr. Butler's school, situated about a mile from his home, he often ran home "in the longer intervals between the callings over and before locking up at night. . . . I remember in the early part of my school life," he writes, "that I often had to run very quickly to be in time, and from being a fleet runner was generally successful; but when in doubt I prayed earnestly to God to help me, and I well remember that I attributed my success to the prayers and not to my quick running, and marvelled how generally I was aided."11 Thus, heaven lay about him in his infancy. But he does not seem to have been a diligent student, and his school-life was not altogether profitable; his subsequent stay at Edinburgh was no more so; and before he reached the age of twenty it seemed clear that his heart was not in the profession of medicine to which he had been destined. In these circumstances, his father, who was a nominal member of the Church of England, took a step which seemed from his point of view, no doubt, quite natural; and proposed that his son should become a clergyman.12 "He was very properly vehement," the son writes, "against my turning into an idle sporting man" - as if this was a sufficient reason for the contemplated step. The son himself was, however, more conscientious. "I asked for some time to consider," he writes, "as from what little I had heard or thought on the subject I had scruples about declaring my belief in all the dogmas of the Church of England; though otherwise I liked the thought of being a country clergyman. Accordingly I read with care 'Pearson on the Creed,' and a few other books on divinity; and as I did not then in the least doubt the strict and literal truth of every word in the Bible,13 I soon persuaded myself that our Creed must be fully accepted."14

This step led to residence at Cambridge, where, however, again the time was mostly wasted. The influences under which he there fell, moreover, were not altogether calculated to quicken his reverence for the high calling to which he had devoted himself. "The way in which the service was conducted in chapel shows that the dean, at least, was not over zealous. I have heard my father tell [it is Mr. Francis Darwin who is writing] how at evening chapel the Dean used to read alternate verses of the Psalms, without making even a pretence of waiting for the congregation to take their share. And when the Lesson was a lengthy one, he would rise and go on with the Canticles after the scholar had read fifteen or twenty verses."15 Nor were his associates at Cambridge always all that could be desired: from his passion for sport he "got into a sporting set, including some dissipated low-minded young men," with whom he spent days and evenings of which (he says) he should have felt ashamed.16 Fortunately, he had other companions also, of a higher stamp,17 and among them preeminently Professor Henslow, who united in his own person the widest scientific learning and the deepest piety, and with whom he happily became quite intimate, gaining from him, as he says, "more than I can express."18 Best of all, Henslow was accustomed to let his light shine, and talked freely "on all subjects, including his deep sense of religion."19 Accordingly, as we are not surprised to learn, it was with him that Mr. Darwin wished to read divinity.20 Not that he was even now ready to enter with spirit upon his preparation for his future work. A touching letter to his friend Fox, written in 1829, on the occasion of the death of the latter's sister, shows that his heart at this time knew somewhat of the consolations of Christianity. "I feel most sincerely and deeply for you," he writes, "and all your family; but at the same time, as far as any one can, by his own good principles and religion, be supported under such a misfortune, you, I am assured, will know where to look for such support. And after so pure and holy a comfort as the Bible affords, I am equally assured how useless the sympathy of all friends must appear, although it be as heartfelt and sincere, as I hope you believe me capable of feeling."21 But he still had conscientious scruples about taking Orders. A fellow student writes (1829): "We had an earnest conversation about going into Holy Orders; and I remember his asking me, with reference to the question put by the Bishop in the ordination service, 'Do you trust that you are inwardly moved by the Holy Spirit, etc.,' whether I could answer in the affirmative, and on my saying I could not, he said, 'Neither can I, and therefore I cannot take Orders."'22 And certainly the lines of his intellectual interest were cast elsewhere. Only under the pressure of his approaching examinations was he led to anything like professional study. On such occasions, however, he showed that his mind was open to impression. "In order to pass the B.A. examination," he writes, "it was also necessary to get up Paley's 'Evidences of Christianity,' and his 'Moral Philosophy.' This was done in a thorough manner, and I am convinced that I could have written out the whole of the 'Evidences' with perfect correctness, but not of course in the clear language of Paley. The logic of this book and, as I may add, of his 'Natural Theology,' gave me as much delight as did Euclid. The careful study of these works, without attempting to learn any part by rote, was the only part of the academical course which, as I then felt and as I still believe, was of the least use to me in the education of my mind. I did not at that time trouble myself about Paley's premises; and taking these on trust, I was charmed and convinced by the long line of argumentation."23 Despite such occasional pleasure in his work, when, on leaving Cambridge, the offer of a place in the Beagle expedition came, and his father objected to his taking it that his proper clerical studies would be interrupted, Josiah Wedgwood was able to argue: "If I saw Charles now absorbed in professional studies, I should probably think it would not be advisable to interrupt them; but this is not, and, I think, will not be the case with him. His present pursuit of knowledge is in the same track as he would have to follow in the expedition."24 By this representation, his father's consent was obtained, although, with that long-sighted wisdom which his son always regarded as his distinguishing characteristic, he "considered it as again changing his profession."25 And so, indeed, it proved. Mr. Darwin's estimate of the sacredness of a clergyman's office improved somewhat above what it was when he was ready to undertake it, if he could sign the Creed, because the life of a country clergyman offered advantages in a sporting way.26 He writes in 1835 to his friend Fox, almost sadly: "I dare hardly look forward to the future, for I do not know what will become of me. Your situation is above envy: I do not venture even to frame such happy visions. To a person fit to take the office, the life of a clergyman is a type of all that is respectable and happy."27 But though, perhaps because, his feeling toward the clerical office had grown to be so high, he no longer thought of entering it. He writes in his Autobiography that this intention was never "formally given up, but died a natural death when, on leaving Cambridge, I joined the Beagle as naturalist."28

The letter to Fox which has just been quoted is a sufficient indication that it was not his Christian faith, but only his intention of taking Orders that was dying out during the course of his five years' cruise. Other like indications are not lacking.29 We are, therefore, not surprised to read: "Whilst on board the Beagle I was quite orthodox, and I remember being heartily laughed at by some of the officers (though themselves orthodox) for quoting the Bible as an unanswerable authority on some point of morality."30 Nevertheless, his defection from Christianity was during these years silently and, as it were, negatively preparing in the ever increasing completeness of his absorption in scientific pursuits, by which he was left little time for or interest in other things. And on his return to England, the working up of the immense mass of material which he had collected during his voyage claimed his attention even more exclusively than its collection had done. Thus he was given occasion to occupy himself so wholly with science that there was not only no time left to think of his former intention of entering the ministry - there was little time left to remember that there was a soul within him or a future life beyond the grave. Readers of the sad account which Mr. Darwin appended at the very end of his life31 (1881) to his autobiographical notes, of how at about the age of thirty or thereabouts his higher aesthetic tastes began to show atrophy, so that he lost his love for poetry, art, music, and his mind more and more began to take upon it the character of a kind of machine for grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, will not be able to resist the suspicion that this exclusive direction to one type of thinking was really, as he himself believed, injurious to his intellect as well as enfeebling to his emotional nature, and lay at the root of his subsequent drift away from religion.

It was an ominous conjunction, that simultaneously with the early progress of this "curious and lamentable loss of the higher aesthetic tastes," a more positive influence was entering his mind which was destined most seriously to modify his thought on divine things. "In July [1837]," he tells us, "I opened my first note-book for facts in relation to the Origin of Species, about which I had long reflected."32 The change that was passing over his views as to the manner in which species originate is illustrated by his biographer by the quotation of a passage from his manuscript "Journal," written in 1834, in which he freely speaks of "creation," which was omitted from the printed "Journal," the proofs of which were completed in 1837 - a fact which "harmonizes with the change we know to have been proceeding in his views."33 We raise no question as to the compatibility of the Darwinian form of the hypothesis of evolution with Christianity; Mr. Darwin himself says that "science" (and in speaking of "science" he has "evolution" in mind) "has nothing to do with Christ, except in so far as the habit of scientific research makes a man cautious in admitting evidence."34 But if we confine ourselves to Mr. Darwin's own personal religious history, it is very clear that, whether on account of a peculiarity of constitution or by an illogical train of reasoning or otherwise, as he wrought out his theory of evolution, he gave up his Christian faith - nay, that his doctrine of evolution directly expelled his Christian belief. How it operated in so doing it is not difficult dimly to trace. He was thoroughly persuaded (like Mr. Huxley35) that, in its plain meaning, Genesis teaches creation by immediate, separate, and sudden fiats of God for each several species. And as he more and more convinced himself that species, on the contrary, originated according to natural law, and through a long course of gradual modification, he felt ever more and more that Genesis "must go." But Genesis is an integral part of the Old Testament, and with the truth and authority of the Old Testament the truth and authority of Christianity itself is inseparably bound up. Thus, the doctrine of evolution once heartily adopted by him gradually undermined his faith, until he cast off the whole of Christianity as an unproved delusion. The process was neither rapid nor unopposed. He speaks of his unwillingness to give up his belief and of the slow rate at which unbelief crept over him, although it became at last complete.36 Drs. Büchner and Aveling report him as assigning the age of forty years (1849) as the date of the completion of the process.37 Of course, other arguments came gradually to the support of the original disturbing cause, to strengthen him in his new position, until his former acceptance of Christianity became almost incredible to him. A deeply interesting account is given of the whole process in the Autobiography.38 "During these two years," he says - meaning the years when his theory of evolution was taking shape in his mind - "I was led to think much about religion. . . . I had gradually come by this time, i.e. 1836 to 1839, to see that the Old Testament was no more to be trusted than the sacred books of the Hindoos. The question then continually rose before my mind and would not be banished, - is it credible that if God were now to make a revelation to the Hindoos, he would permit it to be connected with the belief in Vishnu, Siva, etc., as Christianity is connected with the Old Testament? This appeared to me to be utterly incredible." Here is the root of the whole matter. His doctrine of evolution had antiquated for him the Old Testament record; but Christianity is too intimately connected with the Old Testament to stand as divine if the Old Testament be fabulous. Certainly, if the premises are sound, the conclusion is inevitable. Only both conclusion and premises must shatter themselves against the fact of the supernatural origin of Christianity. Once the conclusion was reached, however, bolstering arguments, pressing directly against Christianity, did not fail to make their appearance: the difficulty of proving miracles, their antecedent incredibility, the credulity of the age in which they profess to have been wrought, the unhistorical character of the Gospels, their discrepancies, man's proneness to religious enthusiasm39 - arguments, all of them, drawn from a sphere in which Mr. Darwin was not a master, and all of them, in reality, afterthoughts called in to support the doubts which were already dominating him. How impervious to evidence he at last became is naively illustrated by the words with which he closes his account of how he lost his faith. He says he feels sure that he gave up his belief unwillingly: "For I can well remember often and often inventing day-dreams of old letters between distinguished Romans, and manuscripts being discovered at Pompeii or elsewhere, which confirmed in the most striking manner all that was written in the Gospels. But I found it more and more difficult, with free scope given to my imagination, to invent evidence which would suffice to convince me."40 When a man has reached a stage in which no conceivable historical evidence could convince him of the actual occurrence of a historical fact, we may cease to wonder that the almost inconceivable richness of the actual historical evidence of Christianity was insufficient to retain his conviction. He ceases to be a judge of the value of evidence; and that he has resisted it is no proof that it is resistible; it is only an evidence of such induration of believing tissue on his part that it is no longer capable of responding to the strongest reagents.

Here, then, approximately at the age of forty, we have reached the end of one great stage of Mr. Darwin's spiritual development. He was no longer a Christian; he no longer believed in a revelation. We see the effect in the changed tone of his speech. Mr. J. Brodie Innis reports him as saying that he did not attack Moses, and that he could not remember that he had ever published a word directly41 against religion or the clergy.42 But in his private letters of this later period he certainly speaks with scant respect of Genesis43 and the clergy,44 if not also of religion,45 and he even gradually grew somewhat irreverent in his use of the name of God. We see the effect still more sadly in his loss of the consolations of religion. It is painful to compare his touching, if somewhat formal and shallow, letter of condolence to his friend Fox, written in 1829, which we have already quoted, with the hopeless grief of later letters of similar origin. He lost a daughter whom he tenderly loved in 1851, and his "only consolation" was "that she passed a short, though joyous life."46 When Fox lost a child in 1853, his only appeal is to the softening influence of the passage of time. "As you must know," he writes him, "from your own most painful experience, time softens and deadens, in a manner truly wonderful, one's feelings and regrets. At first it is indeed bitter. I can only hope that your health and that of poor Mrs. Fox may be preserved, and that time may do its work softly, and bring you all together, once again, as the happy family, which, as I can well believe, you so lately formed."47 What a contrast with "the pure and holy comfort afforded by the Bible"! Already he was learning the grief of those who "sorrow as the rest who have no hope." Whether his habitual neglect of the Sunday rest and of the ordinances of religion was another effect of the same change it is impossible to say, in our ignorance of his habits previous to the loss of his Christian faith. But throughout the whole period of his life at Down, we are told, "week-days and Sundays passed by alike, each with their stated intervals of work and rest," while his visits to the church were confined to a few rare occasions of weddings and funerals.48

But the loss of Christianity did not necessarily mean the loss of religion, and, as a matter of fact, in yielding up revealed, Mr. Darwin retained a strong hold upon natural religion. There were yet God, the soul, the future life. The theory which he had elaborated as a sufficient account of the differences that exist between the several kinds of organic beings, including man, was, however, destined to work havoc in his mind with even the simplest tenets of natural religion. Again we raise no question as to whether this drift was inevitable; it is enough for our present purpose that in Mr. Darwin's case it was actual.49 To understand how this was so, it is only necessary for us to remember that he had laid hold upon "natural selection" as the vera causa and sufficient account of all organic forms. His conception was that every form may vary indefinitely in all directions, and that every variation which is a gain to it in adaptation to its surroundings is necessarily preserved by that very fact through the simple reaction of the surroundings upon the struggle for existence. Any divine guidance of the direction of the variation seemed to him as much opposed to the one premise of the theory as any divine interference with the working of natural selection seemed to be opposed to the other; and he included all organic phenomena, as well mental and moral as physical, in the scope of this natural process. Thus to him God became an increasingly unnecessary and therefore an increasingly incredible hypothecation.

The seriousness of this drift of thought makes it worth while to illustrate it somewhat in detail. During the whole time occupied in collecting material for and in writing the "Origin of Species" Mr. Darwin was a theist,50 or, as he expressed it on one occasion: "Many years ago, when I was collecting facts for the 'Origin,' my belief in what is called a personal God was as firm as that of Dr. Pusey himself."51 The rate at which this firm belief passed away was slow enough for the process to occupy several years. He tells us that his thought on such subjects was never profound or long-continued.52 This was certainly not the fault, however, of his friends, for from the first publication of his development hypothesis they plied him with problems that forced him to face the great questions of the relation of his views to belief in God and His modes of activity. We get the first glimpse of this in his correspondence with Sir Charles Lyell. That great geologist had suggested that we must "assume a primeval creative power" acting throughout the whole course of development, though not uniformly, in order to account for the supervening, say, of man at the end of the series. To this Mr. Darwin replies with a decided negative. "We must, under present knowledge," he wrote, "assume the creation of one or of a few forms in the same manner as philosophers assume the existence of a power of attraction without any explanation. But I entirely reject, as in my judgment quite unnecessary, any subsequent addition 'of new powers and attributes and forces,' or of any 'principle of improvement,' except in so far as every character which is naturally selected or preserved is in some way an advantage or improvement; otherwise it would not have been selected. If I were convinced that I required such additions to the theory of natural selection, I would reject it as rubbish. . . . If I understand you, the turning-point in our difference must be, that you think it impossible that the intellectual powers of a species should be much improved by the continued natural selection of the most intellectual individuals. To show how minds graduate, just reflect how impossible every one has yet found it, to define the difference in mind of man and the lower animals; the latter seem to have the very same attributes in a much lower stage of perfection than the lowest savage. I would give absolutely nothing for the theory of Natural Selection, if it requires miraculous additions at any one stage of descent. I think Embryology, Homology, Classification, etc., show us that all vertebrata have descended from one parent; how that parent appeared we know not. If you admit in ever so little a degree, the explanation which I have given of Embryology, Homology and Classification, you will find it difficult to say: thus far the explanation holds good, but no further; here we must call in 'the addition of new creative forces.'"53 A few days later he wrote again: "I have reflected a good deal on what you say on the necessity of continued intervention of creative power. I cannot see this necessity; and its admission, I think, would make the theory of Natural Selection valueless. Grant a simple Archetypal creature, like the Mudfish or Lepidosiren, with the five senses and some vestige of mind, and I believe natural selection will account for the production of every vertebrate animal."54

Let us weigh well the meaning to Mr. Darwin's own thought of these strong assertions of the competency of natural selection to "account" for every distinguishing characteristic of living forms. It meant to him, first, the assimilation of the human mind, in its essence, with the intelligence of the brutes; and this meant the elimination of what we ordinarily mean by "the soul." He only needed to have given "the five senses and some vestige of mind," such as exists, for instance, in the mud-fish, to enable him by natural selection alone, with the exclusion of all "new powers and attributes and forces," to account for the mental power of Newton, the high imaginings of Milton, the devout aspirations of a Bernard. How early he consciously formulated the extreme form of this conclusion it is difficult to say; but we find him in 1871 thanking Mr. Tylor for giving him new standing ground for it: "It is wonderful how you trace animism from the lower races up to the religious belief of the highest races. It will make me for the future look at religion - a belief in the soul, etc. - from a new point of view."55 Accordingly, the new view was incorporated in the "Descent of Man," published that same year.56 And Dr. Robert Lewins seems quite accurately to sum up the ultimate opinion which he attained on this subject in the following words:

Before concluding I may, without violation of any confidence, mention that, both viva voce and in writing, Mr. Darwin was much less reticent to myself than in this letter to Jena. For, in an answer to the direct question I felt myself justified, some years since, in addressing to that immortal expert in Biology, as to the bearing of his researches on the existence of an "Anima," or "Soul" in Man, he distinctly stated that, in his opinion, a vital or "spiritual" principle, apart from inherent somatic energy, had no more locus standi in the human than in the other races of the Animal Kingdom - a conclusion that seems a mere corollary of, or indeed a position tantamount with, his essential doctrine of human and bestial identity of Nature and genesis.57

It was but a corollary to loss of belief in a soul, secondly, to lose belief also in immortality. If we are one with the brutes in origin, why not also in destiny? Mr. Darwin thought it "base" in his opponents to "drag in immortality," in objection to his theories;58 but in his own mind he was allowing his theories to push immortality out. His final position as to the future of man he gives in an interesting passage in the autobiographical notes, written in 1876. He speaks there of immortality as a "strong and almost instinctive belief," but also of the "intolerableness" of the thought that the more perfect race of the future years shall be annihilated by the gradual cooling of the sun, pathetically adding: "To those who fully admit the immortality of the human soul, the destruction of our world will not appear so dreadful."59 Accordingly, when writing to the Jena student in 1879, after saying that he did not believe that "there ever had been any revelation," he adds: "As for a future life, every man must judge for himself between conflicting vague probabilities."60 Thirdly, his settled conviction of the sufficiency of natural selection to account for all differentiations in organic forms deeply affected Mr. Darwin's idea of God and of His relation to the world. His notion at this time (1859), while theistic, appears to have been somewhat crassly deistic. He seems never to have been able fully to grasp the conception of divine immanence; but from the opening of his first notebook on Species61 to the end of his days he gives ever repeated reason to the reader to fear that the sole conceptions of God in His relation to the universe which were possible to him were either that God should do all things without second causes, or, having ordained second causes, should sit outside and beyond them and leave them to do all things without Him. Beginning with this deistic conception, which pushed God out of His works, it is perhaps not strange that he could never be sure that he saw Him in His works; and when he could trace effects to a "natural cause" or group a body of phenomena under a "natural law," this seemed to him equivalent to disproving the connection of God with them.62 The result was that the theistic proofs gradually grew more and more meaningless to him, until, at last, no one of them carried conviction to his mind. Sir Charles Lyell was not left alone in his efforts to clarify Mr. Darwin's thinking on such subjects; soon Dr. Asa Gray took his place by his side and became at once the chief force in the endeavor. Nevertheless, Mr. Darwin outlines already in a letter to Lyell in 186063 the arguments by which he stood unto the end. "I must say one more word," he writes, "about our quasi-theological controversy about natural selection. . . . Do you consider that the successive variations in the size of the crop of the Pouter Pigeon, which man has accumulated to please his caprice, have been due to 'the creative and sustaining powers of Brahma?' In the sense that an omnipotent and omniscient Deity must order and know everything, this must be admitted; yet, in honest truth, I can hardly admit it. It seems preposterous that a maker of a universe should care about the crop of a pigeon solely64 to please man's silly fancies. But if you agree with me in thinking such an interposition of the Deity uncalled for, I can see no reason whatever for believing in such interpositions in the case of natural beings, in which strange and admirable peculiarities have been naturally selected for the creature's own benefit. Imagine a Pouter in a state of nature wading into the water, and then, being buoyed up by its inflated crop, sailing about in search of food. What admiration this would have excited - adaptation to the laws of hydrostatic pressure, etc. For the life of me I cannot see any difficulty in natural selection producing the most exquisite structure, if such structure can be arrived at by gradation, and I know from experience how hard it is to name any structure towards which at least some gradations are not known. . . . P. S. - The conclusion at which I have come, as I have told Asa Gray, is that such a question, as is touched on in this note, is beyond the human intellect, like 'predestination and free will,' or the 'origin of evil.'" There is much confused thought in this letter; but it concerns us now only to note that Mr. Darwin's difficulty arises on the one side from his inability to conceive of God as immanent in the universe and his consequent total misapprehension of the nature of divine providence, and on the other from a very crude notion of final cause which posits a single extrinsic end as the sole purpose of the Creator. No one would hold to a doctrine of divine "interpositions" such as appears to him here as the only alternative to divine absence. And no one would hold to a teleology of the raw sort which he here has in mind - a teleology which finds the end for which a thing exists in the misuse or abuse of it by an outside selecting agent. Mr. Darwin himself felt a natural mental inability for dealing with such themes, and accordingly wavered long as to the attitude he ought to assume toward the evidences of God's hand in nature. Thus he wrote in May, 1860, to Dr. Gray: "With respect to the theological view of the question. This is always painful to me. I am bewildered. I had no intention to write atheistically. But I own that I cannot see as plainly as others do, and as I should wish to do, evidence of design and beneficence on all sides of us. There seems to me too much misery in the world. I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of Caterpillars, or that a cat should play with mice. Not believing this, I see no necessity in the belief that the eye was expressly designed. On the other hand, I cannot anyhow be contented to view this wonderful universe, and especially the nature of man, and to conclude that everything is the result of brute force. I am inclined to look at everything as resulting from designed laws, with the details, whether good or bad, left to the working out of what we may call chance. Not that this notion at all satisfies me. I feel most deeply that the whole subject is too profound for the human intellect. A dog might as well speculate on the mind of Newton. Let each man hope and believe what he can. Certainly I agree with you that my views are not at all necessarily atheistical. The lightning kills a man, whether a good one or bad one, owing to the excessively complex action of natural laws. A child (who may turn out an idiot) is born by the action of even more complex laws, and I can see no reason why a man, or other animal, may not have been aboriginally produced by other laws, and that all these laws may have been expressly designed by an omniscient Creator, who foresaw every future event and consequence. But the more I think the more bewildered I become; as indeed I have probably shown by this letter."65 The reasoning of this extract, which supposes that the fact that a result is secured by appropriate conditions furnishes ground for regarding it as undesigned, is less suitable to a grave thinker than to a redoubtable champion like Mr. Allan Quartermain, who actually makes use of it. "At last he was dragged forth uninjured, though in a very pious and prayerful frame of mind," he is made to say of a negro whom he had saved by killing an attacking buffalo; "his 'spirit had certainly looked that way,' he said, or he would now have been dead. As I never like to interfere with true piety, I did not venture to suggest that his spirit had deigned to make use of my eight-bore in his interest."66 Dr. Gray appears to have rallied his correspondent in his reply, on his notion of an omniscient and omnipotent Creator, foreseeing all future events and consequences, and yet not responsible for the results of the laws which He ordains. At all events, Mr. Darwin writes him again in July of the same year: "One word more on 'designed laws' and 'undesigned results.' I see a bird which I want for food, take my gun and kill it - I do this designedly. An innocent and good man stands under a tree and is killed by a flash of lightning. Do you believe (and I really should like to hear) that God designedly killed this man? Many or most people do believe this; I can't and don't. If you believe so, do you believe that when a swallow snaps up a gnat that God designed that that particular swallow should snap up that particular gnat at that particular instant? I believe that the man and the gnat are in the same predicament. If the death of neither man nor gnat are designed, I see no good reason to believe that their first birth or production should be necessarily designed."67 We read such words with almost as much bewilderment as Mr. Darwin says he wrote them with. It is almost incredible that he should have so inextricably confused the two senses of the word "design" - so as to confound the question of intentional action with that of the evidences of contrivance, the question of the existence of a general plan in God's mind, in accordance with which all things come to pass, with that of the existence of marks of His hand in creation arising from intelligent adaptation of means to ends. It is equally incredible that he should present the case of a particular swallow snapping up a particular gnat at a particular time as (to use his own words) "a poser," when he could scarcely have already forgotten that all Christians, at least, have long since learned to understand that the care of God extends as easily to the infinitely little as to the infinitely great; that the very hairs of our head are numbered, and not one sparrow falls to the ground unnoted by our Heavenly Father. Yet this seems to him so self-evidently unbelievable, that he rests his case against God's direction of the line of development - for this is really what he is arguing against here - on its obvious incredibility.

And he found it impossible to shake himself free from his confusion. In November of the same year he wrote again to Dr. Gray: "I grieve to say that I cannot honestly go as far as you do about Design. I am conscious that I am in an utterly hopeless muddle. I cannot think that the world, as we see it, is the result of chance; and yet I cannot look at each separate thing as the result of Design. To take a crucial example, you lead me to infer . . . that you believe 'that variation has been led along certain beneficent lines.' I cannot believe this; and I think you would have to believe, that the tail of the Fantail was led to vary in the number and direction of its feathers in order to gratify the caprice of a few men. Yet if the Fantail had been a wild bird, and had used its abnormal tail for some special end, as to sail before the wind, unlike other birds, every one would have said, 'What a beautiful and designed adaptation.' Again, I say I am, and shall ever remain, in a hopeless muddle."68 The reader is apt to ask in wonder if we would not be right in thinking the fantail's tail a "beautiful and designed adaptation," under the circumstances supposed. Mr. Darwin actually falls here into the incredible confusion of adducing a perversion by man of the laws of nature, by which an animal is unfitted for its environment, as an argument against the designed usefulness of these laws in fitting animals to their environment. We might as well argue that Jael's nail was not designedly made because it was capable of being adapted to so fearful a use; that the styles of Caesar's assassins could not have been manufactured with a useful intention. Nevertheless, in June, 1861, Mr. Darwin writes again to Dr. Gray: "I have been led to think more on this subject of late, and grieve to say that I come to differ more from you. It is not that designed variation makes, as it seems to me, my deity of 'Natural Selection' superfluous, but rather from studying, lately, domestic variation, and seeing what an enormous field of undesigned variability there is ready for natural selection to appropriate for any purpose useful to each creature."69 And a month later he writes to Miss Julia Wedgwood: "Owing to several correspondents I have been led lately to think, or rather to try to think over some of the chief points discussed by you. But the result has been with me a maze - something like thinking on the origin of evil, to which you allude. The mind refuses to look at this universe, being what it is, without having been designed; yet, where one would most expect design, viz. in the structure of a sentient being, the more I think on the subject, the less I can see proof of design. Asa Gray and some others look at each variation, or at least at each beneficial variation (which A. Gray would compare with the rain-drops70 which do not fall on the sea, but on to the land to fertilize it) as having been providentially designed. Yet when I ask him whether he looks at each variation of the rock-pigeon, by which man has made by accumulation a pouter or fantail pigeon, as providentially designed for man's amusement, he does not know what to answer; and if he, or anyone, admits [that] these variations are accidental, as far as purpose is concerned (of course not accidental as to their cause or origin), then I can see no reason why he should rank the accumulated variations by which the beautifully adapted woodpecker has been formed, as providentially designed. For it would be easy to imagine the large crop of the pouter, or tail of the fantail, as of some use to birds, in a state of nature, having peculiar habits of life. These are the considerations which perplex me about design; but whether you will care to hear them, I know not."71 The most careless reader of this letter cannot fail renewedly to feel that while what was on trial before Mr. Darwin's thought was not the argument "from design" so much as general providence, yet he falls here again into the confusion of confining his view of God's possible purpose in directing any course of events to the most proximate result, as if it were the indications of design in a given organism which he was investigating. If, however, it is the existence of a general and all-comprehending plan in God's mind, for the working out of which He directs and governs all things, that we are inquiring into, the ever recurring argument from the pouter and fantail pigeons is irrelevant, proceeding as it does on the unexpressed premise that God's direction of their variations can be vindicated only if these variations can be shown to be beneficial to the pigeons themselves and that in a state of nature. It is apparently an unthought thought with Mr. Darwin that the abundance of variations capable of misdirection on man's part for his pleasure or profit, while of absolutely no use to the bird in a state of nature, and liable to abuse for the bird and for man in the artificial state of domestication, may yet be a link in a great chain which in all its links is preordained for good ends - whether morally, mentally, or even physically, whether in this world or in the next. This narrowness of view, which confined his outlook to the immediate proximate result, played so into the hands of his confusion of thought about the word "design" as from the outset fatally to handicap his progress to a reasoned conclusion.

The history of his yielding up Christianity, because, as he said, "it is not supported by evidence"72 - that is, because its appropriate evidence, being historical, is of a kind which lay outside of his knowledge or powers of estimation - was therefore paralleled by his gradual yielding up of his reasoned belief in God, because all the evidences of His activities are not capable of being looked at in the process of a dissection under the simple microscope. We have seen him at last reaching a position in which no evidence which he could even imagine would suffice to prove the historical truth of Christianity to him. He was fast drifting into a similar position about design. He writes to Dr. Gray, apparently in September, 1861: "Your question what would convince me of Design is a poser. If I saw an angel come down to teach us good, and I was convinced from others seeing him that I was not mad, I should believe in design. If I could be convinced thoroughly that life and mind was in an unknown way a function of other imponderable force, I should be convinced. If man was made of brass or iron and no way connected with any other organism which had ever lived, I should perhaps be convinced. But this is childish writing."73 I And so indeed it is, and in a sense in which Mr. Darwin scarcely intended. But such words teach us very clearly where the real difficulty lay in his own mind. Life and mind with him were functions of matter; and he could not see that any other concause in bringing new births into the world, could be witnessed to by the nature of the results, than the natural forces employed in the natural process of reproduction. He believed firmly that indiscriminate variation, reacted upon through natural laws by the struggle for existence, was the sufficient account of every discrimination in organic nature - was the vera causa of all forms which life took; and believing this, he could see no need of God's additional activity to produce the very same effects, and could allow no evidence of its working. "I have lately," he continues in the letter to Dr. Gray just quoted, "been corresponding with Lyell, who, I think, adopts your idea of the stream of variation having been led or designed. I have asked him (and he says he will hereafter reflect and answer me) whether he believes that the shape of my nose was designed. If he does I have nothing more to say. If not, seeing what Fanciers have done by selecting individual differences in the nasal bones of pigeons, I must think that it is illogical to suppose that the variations, which natural selection preserves for the good of any being, have been designed. But I know that I am in the same sort of muddle (as I have said before) as all the world seems to be in with respect to free will, yet with everything supposed to have been foreseen or pre-ordained."74 And again, a few months later, still laboring under the same confusion, he writes to the same correspondent: "If anything is designed, certainly man must be: one's 'inner consciousness' (though a false guide) tells one so; yet I cannot admit that men's rudimentary mammae . . . were designed. If I was to say I believed this, I should believe it in the same incredible manner as the orthodox believe the Trinity in Unity. You say that you are in a haze; I am in thick mud; . . . yet I cannot keep out of the question."75 One wonders whether Mr. Darwin, in examining a door-knocker carved in the shape of a face, would say that he believed the handle was "designed," but could not admit that the carved face was "designed." Nevertheless, an incised outline on a bit of old bone, though without obvious use, or a careless chip on the edge of a flint, though without possible use, would at once be judged by him to be "designed" - that is, to be evidence, if not of obvious contrivance, yet certainly of intentional activity. Why he could not make a similar distinction in natural products remains a standing matter of surprise.

The years ran on, however, and his eyes were still holden; he never advanced beyond even the illustrations he had grasped at from the first to support his position. In 1867 his "Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication" appeared, and on February 8th of that year he wrote to Sir Joseph Hooker: "I finish my book . . . by a single paragraph, answering, or rather throwing doubt, in so far as so little space permits, on Asa Gray's doctrine that each variation has been specially ordered or led along a beneficial line. It is foolish to touch such subjects, but there have been so many allusions to what I think about the part which God has played in the formation of organic beings, that I thought it shabby to evade the question."76 In writing his Autobiography in 1876, he looks back upon this "argument" with pride, as one which "has never, as far as I can see, been answered."77 It has a claim, therefore, to be considered something like a classic in the present discussion, and although it does not advance one step either in force or form beyond the earlier letters to Dr. Gray and Sir Lyell, we feel constrained to transcribe it here in full: "An Omniscient Creator," it runs, "must have foreseen every consequence which results from the laws imposed by Him. But can it be reasonably maintained that the Creator intentionally ordered, if we use the words in the ordinary sense, that certain fragments of rock should assume certain shapes so that the builder might erect his edifice? If the various laws which have determined the shape of each fragment were not predetermined for the builder's sake, can it with any greater probability be maintained that He specially ordained for the sake of the breeder each of the innumerable variations in our domestic animals and plants; - many of these variations being of no service to man, and not beneficial, far more often injurious, to the creatures themselves? Did He ordain that the crop and tail-feathers of the pigeon should vary in order that the fancier might make his grotesque pouter and fantail breeds? Did He cause the frame and mental qualities of the dog to vary in order that a breed might be formed of indomitable ferocity, with jaws fitted to pin down the bull for man's brutal sport? But if we give up the principle in one case - if we do not admit that the variations of the primeval dog were intentionally guided in order that the greyhound, for instance, that perfect image of symmetry and vigor, might be formed - no shadow of reason can be assigned for the belief that variations, alike in nature and the result of the same general laws, which have been the groundwork through natural selection of the formation of the most perfectly adapted animals in the world, man included, were intentionally and specially guided. However much we may wish it, we can hardly follow Professor Asa Gray in his belief 'that variation has been led along certain beneficial lines,' like a stream 'along definite and useful lines of irrigation.' If we assume that each particular variation was from the beginning of all time preordained, the plasticity of organization, which leads to many injurious deviations of structure, as well as that redundant power of reproduction which inevitably leads to a struggle for existence, and, as a consequence, to the natural selection or survival of the fittest, must appear to us superfluous laws of nature. On the other hand, an omnipotent and omniscient Creator ordains everything and foresees everything. Thus we are brought face to face with a difficulty as insoluble as is that of free will and predestination."78 We read with an amazement which is akin to amusement the string of queries with which Mr. Darwin here plies his readers, as if no answer were possible to conception but the one which would drive "the omnipotent and omniscient Creator" into impotency and ignorance, if not into non-existence. An argument which has never been answered! Why should it be answered? Is it not competent to any man to string like questions together ad infinitum with an air of victory? "Did the omnipotent and omniscient Creator intentionally order that beetles should vary to so extreme an extent in form and coloration solely in order that Mr. Darwin might in his enthusiastic youth arrange them artistically in his cabinet? Did he cause the blackthorn to grow of such strong and close fiber in order that Pat might cut his shillalah from it and break his neighbor's head? Did Mr. Darwin himself write and print these words in order that his fellows might wonder why and how he was in such a muddle?" But there is really no end to it, unless we are ready to confess that an object may be put to a use which was not "the end of its being"; that there may be intentions possible beyond the obvious proximate one; and that there is a distinction between an intentional action and a contrivance. The fallacy of Mr. Darwin's reasoning here ought not to have been hidden from him, as he tells us repeatedly that he early learned the danger of reasoning by exclusion; and yet that is exactly the process employed here.

Dr. Gray did not delay long to point out some of the confusion under which his friend was laboring.79 And Mr. Wallace shortly afterward showed that there was no more difficulty in tracing the divine hand in natural production, through the agency of natural selection, than there is in tracing the hand of man in the formation of the races of domesticated animals, through artificial selection. In neither case does there confront the outward eye other than a series of forms produced by natural law; and in the one case as little as the other is the selecting concause of the outside agent excluded by the unbroken traceableness of the process of descent.80 But Mr. Darwin was immovable. One of the odd circumstances of the case was that he still felt able to express pleasure in being spoken of as one whose great service to natural science lay "in bringing back to it Teleology."81 Yet this did not mean that he himself believed in teleology; and in his Autobiography written in 1876 he sets aside the whole teleological argument as invalid.82

Nor was the setting aside of teleology merely the discrediting of one theistic proof in order to clear the way for others. The strong acid of Mr. Darwin's theory of the origin of man ate into the very heart of the other proofs as surely, though not by the same channel, as it had eaten into the fabric of the argument from design. We have already seen him speaking of the demand of the mind for a sufficient cause for the universe and its contents as possessing great weight with him; and he realized the argumentative value of the human conviction, arising from the feelings of dependence and responsibility, that there is One above us on whom we depend and to whom we are responsible. But both these arguments were, in his judgment, directly affected by his view of the origin of man's mental and moral nature, as a development, by means of the interworking of natural laws alone, from the germ of intelligence found in brutes. We have seen how uncompromisingly he denied to Lyell the need or propriety of postulating any additional powers or any directing energy for the production of man's mental and moral nature. In the same spirit he writes complainingly to Mr. Wallace in 1869: "I can see no necessity for calling in an additional and proximate cause in regard to man."83 This being so, he felt that he could scarcely trust man's intuitions or convictions. And thus he was able at the end of his life (1881) to acknowledge his "inward conviction . . . that the Universe is not the result of chance," and at once to add: "But then with me the horrid doubt always arises whether the convictions of man's mind, which has been developed from the mind of the lower animals, are of any value or at all trustworthy. Would anyone trust in the convictions of a monkey's mind, if there are any convictions in such a mind?"84 It is illustrative of Mr. Darwin's strange confusion of thought on metaphysical subjects that he does not appear to perceive that this doubt, if valid at all, ought to affect not only the religious convictions of men, but all their convictions; and that it, therefore, undermines the very theory of man's origin, because of which it arises within him. There is not a whit more reason to believe that the processes of physical research and the logical laws by means of which inferences are drawn and inductions attained are trustworthy, than that these higher convictions, based on the same mental laws, are trustworthy; and the origin of man's mind from a brutish source, if fatal to trust in one mental process, is fatal to trust in all the others, throwing us, as the result of such a plea, into sheer intellectual suicide.

In discussing these human convictions Mr. Darwin draws a sharp distinction between those which appeared to him to rest on feeling and that which springs from the instinctive causal judgment and demands a sufficient cause for the universe, and which, as he judged it to be "connected with reason and not with the feelings," "impressed him as having much more weight." To the argument from our Godward emotions he allows but little value, although he looks back with regret upon the time when the grandeur of a Brazilian forest stirred his heart with feelings not only of wonder and admiration but also of devotion, and filled and elevated his mind.85 He sadly confesses that the grandest scenes would no longer awaken such convictions and feelings within him, and acknowledges that he is become like a man who is color-blind and whose failure to see is of no value as evidence against the universal belief of men. But he makes this remark only immediately to endeavor to rob it of its force. He urges that all men of all races do not have this inward conviction "of the existence of one God";86 and then attempts to confound the conviction which accompanies the emotions which he has described, or more properly which quickens them, and to the reality and abidingness of which they are undying witnesses, with the emotions themselves, as if all "the moving experiences of the soul in the presence of the sublimer aspects of nature" were resolvable "into moods of feelings."87 He does more; he attempts to resolve all such moods of feeling essentially into the one "sense of sublimity"; and then assumes that this sense must be itself resolvable into still simpler constituents, by which it may be proved to be a composite of bestial elements; and to witness to nothing beyond our brutish origin.88 "The state of mind," he writes, "which grand scenes formerly excited in me, and which was intimately connected with a belief in God, did not essentially differ from that which is often called the sense of sublimity; and however difficult it may be to explain the genesis of this sense, it can hardly be advanced as an argument for the existence of God, any more than the powerful though vague and similar feelings excited by music."89 Here is reasoning! Is it then a fair conclusion that because the "sense of sublimity" no more than other similar feelings is itself a proof of divine existence, therefore the firm conviction of the existence of God, which is "intimately connected with" a feeling similar to sublimity, is also without evidential value? It is as if one should reason that because the sense of resentment which is intimately connected with the slap that I feel tingling upon my cheek does not essentially differ from that which is often called the sense of indignation, which does not any more than other like feelings always imply the existence of human objects, therefore the tingling slap is no evidence that a man to give it really exists! How strong a hold this odd illusion of reasoning had upon Mr. Darwin's mind is illustrated by an almost contemporary letter to Mr. E. Gurney, discussing the origin of capacity for enjoyment of music, which he closes with the following words: "Your simile of architecture seems to me particularly good; for in this case the appreciation almost must be individual, though possibly the sense of sublimity excited by a grand cathedral may have some connection with the vague feelings of terror and superstition in our savage ancestors, when they entered a great cavern or gloomy forest. I wish," he adds, semi-pathetically, "some one could analyse the feeling of sublimity."90 He seems to think that to analyze this feeling would be tantamount to letting our conviction of God's existence escape in a vapor.

He ascribed much more weight to the conviction of the existence of God, which arises from our causal judgment, and it was chiefly under pressure of this instinct of the human mind, by which we are forced to assign a competent cause for all becoming, that he was continually being compelled "to look to a First Cause having an intelligent mind in some degree analogous to that of man," and so "to deserve to be called a Theist." But as often "the horrid doubt . . . arises whether the convictions of man's mind," any more than those of a monkey's mind from something similar to which it has been developed, "are of any value or at all trustworthy."91 The growth of such doubts in his mind is not traceable in full detail; but some record of it is left in the letters that have been preserved for us. For example, in 1860 he wrote to Dr. Gray: "I cannot anyhow be contented to view this wonderful universe, and especially the nature of man, and to conclude that everything is the result of brute force."92 Again, "I cannot think that the world, as we see it, is the result of chance."93 Again, in 1861, he writes to Miss Wedgwood: "The mind refuses to look at this universe, being what it is, without having been designed."94 At this time he deserved to be called a theist. In 1873 he writes, in reply to a query by a Dutch student: "I may say that the impossibility of conceiving that this grand and wondrous universe, with our conscious selves, arose through chance, seems to me the chief argument for the existence of a God"; but immediately adds: "But whether this is an argument of real value, I have never been able to decide."95 And in 1876, after speaking of "the extreme difficulty or rather impossibility of conceiving this immense and wonderful universe, including man with his capacity of looking far backwards and far into futurity, as the result of blind chance or necessity," he immediately adds: "But then arises the doubt, can the mind of man, which has, as I fully believe, been developed from a mind as low as that possessed by the lowest animals, be trusted when it draws such grand conclusions?"96 Nearly the same words, as we have seen, were repeated in 1881.97 And he appears to have had this branch of the subject in his mind rather than teleology, when, in 1882, he shook his head vaguely when the Duke of Argyll urged that it was impossible to look upon the contrivances of nature without seeing that they were the effect and expression of mind; and looking hard at him, said: "Well, that often comes over me with overwhelming force; but at other times it seems to go away."98

What, then, became of his instinctive causal judgment amid these crowding doubts? It was scarcely eradicated. He could write to Mr. Graham as late as 1881: "You have expressed my inward conviction . . . that the Universe is not the result of chance."99 But "inward conviction" with Mr. Darwin did not mean "reasoned opinion" which is to be held and defended, but "natural and instinctive feeling" which is to be corrected. And he certainly allowed his causal judgment gradually to fall more and more into abeyance. In his letter to the Dutch student, in 1873, he knew how to add to his avowal that he felt the impossibility of conceiving of this grand universe as causeless, the further avowal, "I am aware that if we admit a first cause, the mind still craves to know whence it came, and how it arose,"100 and thus to do what he could to throw doubt on the theistic inference. And he also knew how to speak as if the agnostic inference were reasonable and philosophical, everywhere maintaining his right to assume living forms to begin with, as a philosopher assumes gravitation,101 by which, as he is careful to explain, he does not mean that these forms (or this form) have been "created" in the usual sense of that word, but "only that we know nothing as yet [of] how life originates";102 and writing as late as 1878: "As to the eternity of matter, I have never troubled myself about such insoluble questions."103 Nevertheless, it is perfectly certain that neither Mr. Darwin nor anyone else can reject both creation and non-creation, both a first cause and the eternity of matter. As Professor Flint truly points out, "we may believe either in a self-existent God or in a self-existent world, and must believe in one or the other; we cannot believe in an infinite regress of causes."104 When Mr. Darwin threw doubt on the philosophical consistency of the assumption of a first cause, he was bound to investigate the hypothesis of the eternity of matter; and until this latter task was completed he was bound to keep silence on a subject on which he had so little right to speak. Where his predilection would carry him is plain from the pleasure with which he read of Dr. Bastian's Archebiosis in 1872, wishing that he could "live to see" it "proved true."105 We are regretfully forced to recognize in his whole course of argument a desire to eliminate the proofs of God's activity in the world; "he did not like to retain God in his knowledge."

Further evidence of this trend may be observed in the tone of the addition to the autobiographical notes which he made, with especial reference to his religious beliefs, in 1876, and in which he, somewhat strangely, included a full antitheistic argument, developed in so orderly a manner that it may stand for us as a complete exhibit of his attitude toward the problem of divine existence. In this remarkable document106 he first discusses the argument from design, concluding that the "old argument from design in Nature, as given by Paley, which formerly seemed to me so conclusive,"fails" now that the law of natural selection has been discovered." He adds that "there seems to be no more design in the variability of organic beings, and in the action of natural selection, than in the course which the wind blows," and refers the reader to the "argument" given at the end of "Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication," as one which has never been answered. Having set this more detailed teleology aside, he next examines the broader form of the argument from design, which rests on the general beneficent arrangement of the world, and concludes that the great fact of suffering is opposed to the theistic inference, while the prevailing happiness, in conjunction with "the presence of much suffering, agrees well with the view that all organic beings have been developed through variation and natural selection." Next he discusses the "most usual argument" of the present day "for the existence of an intelligent God," that "drawn from the deep inward conviction and feelings which are experienced by most persons." He speaks sadly of his own former firm conviction of the existence of God, and describes how feelings of devotion welled up within him in the presence of grand scenery; but he sets the argument summarily aside as invalid. Finally, he adduces the demands of the causal judgment, in a passage which has already been quoted, but discards it, too, with an expression of doubt as to the trustworthiness of such grand conclusions when drawn by a brute-bred mind like man's. His conclusion is formulated helplessness: "The mystery of the beginning of all things is insoluble by us; and I for one must be content to remain an Agnostic." It was out of such a reasoned position that he wrote in 1879: "In my most extreme fluctuations I have never been an Atheist in the sense of denying the existence of God. I think that generally (and more and more as I grow older), but not always, that an Agnostic would be the more correct description of my state of mind."107 Nor can we help carrying over the light thus gained to aid us in explaining the words written to Jena the same year: Mr. Darwin "considers that the theory of Evolution is quite compatible with the belief in a God; but that you must remember that different persons have different definitions of what they mean by God."108 It would be an interesting question what conception Mr. Darwin, who began with a deistic conception, had come to when he reached the agnostic stage and spoke familiarly of "what is called a personal God."109

By such stages as these did this great man drift from his early trust into an inextinguishable doubt whether such a mind as man's can be trusted in its grand conclusions; and by such reasoning as this did he support his suicidal results. No more painful spectacle can be found in all biographical literature; no more startling discovery of the process by which even great and good men can come gradually to a state of mind in which, despite their more noble instincts, they can but

Judge all nature from her feet of clay,

Without the will to lift their eyes to see

Her Godlike head, crowned with spiritual fire,

And touching other worlds.

The process that we have been observing, as has110 been truly said, is not that of an ejectment of reverence and faith from the system (as, say, in the case of Mr. Froude), or of an encysting of them (as, say, with Mr. J. S. Mill), but simply of an atrophy of them, as they dissolve painlessly away. In Mr. Darwin's case this atrophy was accompanied by a similar deadening of his higher emotional nature, by which he lost his power of enjoying poetry, music, and to a large extent scenery, and stood like some great tree of the forest with broad-reaching boughs, beneath which men may rest and refresh themselves, but with decay already marking it as its own, as evidenced by the deadness of its upper branches. He was a man dead at the top.

It is more difficult to trace the course of his personal religious life during this long-continued atrophying of his religious conceptions. He was not permitted to enter upon this development without a word of faithful admonition. When the "Origin of Species" was published in 1859, his old friend and preceptor, Professor A. Sedgwick, appears to have foreseen the possible driftage of his thought, and wrote him the following touching words: "I have been lecturing three days a week (formerly I gave six a week) without much fatigue, but I find by the loss of activity and memory, and of all productive powers, that my bodily frame is sinking slowly towards the earth. But I have visions of the future. They are as much a part of myself as my stomach and my heart, and these visions are to have their antitype in solid fruition of what is best and greatest. But on one condition only - that I humbly accept God's revelation of Himself both in His works and in His word, and do my best to act in conformity with that knowledge which He only can give me, and He only can sustain me in doing. If you and I do all this, we shall meet in heaven."111 The appeal had come too late to aid his old pupil to conserve his Christian faith; it was already long since he had believed that God had ever spoken in word and he was fast drifting to a position from which he could with difficulty believe that He had spoken in His works. It is not a pleasant letter that he wrote to Mrs. Boole in 1866, in reply to some very respectfully framed inquiries as to the relation of his theory to the possibility of belief in inspiration and a personal and good God who exercises moral influence on man, to which he is free to yield. The way in which he avoids replying to these questions almost seems to be irritable,112 and is possibly an index to his feelings toward the matters involved. Nevertheless, his sympathy with suffering and his willingness to lend his help toward the elevation of his fellow men remained; he even aided the work of Christian missions by contributions in money,113 although he no longer shared the hopes by which those were nerved who carried the civilizing message to their degraded fellow beings. Why, indeed, he should have trusted the noble impulses of his conscience, and been willing to act upon them, when he judged that the brutish origin of man's whole mental nature vitiated all its grand conclusions, it might puzzle a better metaphysician than he laid claim to be satisfactorily to explain; but his higher life seems to have taken this direction, and it is characteristic of him to close the letter to the Dutch student, written in 1873, with such words as these: "The safest conclusion seems to be that the whole subject is beyond the scope of man's intellect; but man can do his duty."114 But when there is no one to show us any truth, who is there to show us duty? If our conscience is but the chance growth of the brute mind, hemmed in by its environment and squeezed into a new form by the pressure of a fierce and unmoral struggle for existence, what moral imperative has it such as deserves the high name of "duty"?115 Certainly the argument is as valid here as there. But by the power of so divine an inconsistency, Mr. Darwin was enabled as citizen, friend, husband, and father to do his duty. He had no sharp sense of sin;116 but so far as duty lay before him he retained a tender conscience. And thus, as he approached the end of his long and laborious life, he felt able to say: "I feel no remorse from having committed any great sin, but have often and often regretted that I have not done more direct good to my fellow creatures";117 and again, as the end came on, we learn that "he seemed to recognize the approach of death, and said, 'I am not the least afraid to die."'118 And thus he went out into the dark without God in all his thoughts; with no hope for immortality; and with no keenness of regret for all the high and noble aspirations and all the elevating imaginings which he had lost out of life.

That we may appreciate how sad a sight we have before us, let us look back from the end to the beginning. We stand at the deathbed of a man whom, in common with all the world, we most deeply honor. He has made himself a name which will live through many generations; and withal has made himself beloved by all who came into close contact with him. True, tender-hearted, and sympathetic, he has in the retirement of invalidism lived a life which has moved the world. But is his death just the death we should expect from one who had once given himself to be an ambassador of the Lord? When we turn from what he has done to what he has become, can we say that, in the very quintessence of living, he has fulfilled the promise of that long-ago ingenuous youth who suffered something like remorse when he beat a puppy, and as he ran to school "prayed earnestly to God to help him"? Let us look upon him in the light of a contrast. There was another Charles, living in the world with him, but a few years his senior, whose childhood, too, was blessed with a vivid sense of the nearness of heaven. He, too, has left us some equally simple-hearted and touching autobiographical notes; and from them we learn that his, too, was a praying childhood. "As far back as I can remember," he writes, "I had the habit of thanking God for everything I received, and asking Him for everything I wanted. If I lost a book, or any of my playthings, I prayed that I might find it. I prayed walking along the streets, in school and out of school, whether playing or studying. I did not do this in obedience to any prescribed rule. It seemed natural. I thought of God as an everywhere-present Being, full of kindness and love, who would not be offended if children talked to Him. I knew He cared for sparrows."119 Thus Charles Hodge and Charles Darwin began their lives on a somewhat similar plane. And both write in their old age of their childhood's prayers with something like a smile. But how different the quality of these smiles! Charles Darwin's smile is almost a sneer: "When in doubt," he writes, "I prayed earnestly to God to help me, and I well remember that I attributed my success to the prayers and not to my quick running, and marvelled how generally I was aided."120 Charles Hodge's smile is the pleasant smile of one who looks back on small beginnings from a well-won height. "There was little more in my prayers and praises," he writes, "than in the worship rendered by the fowls of the air. This mild form of natural religion did not amount to much."121 His praying childhood was Charles Darwin's highest religious attainment; his praying childhood was to Charles Hodge but the inconsiderable seed out of which were marvelously to unfold all the graces of a truly devout life. Starting from a common center, these two great men, with much of natural endowment in common, trod opposite paths; and when the shades of death gathered around them, one could but face the depths of darkness in his greatness of soul without fear, and yield like a man to the inevitable lot of all; the other, bathed in a light not of the earth, rose in spirit upon his dead self to higher things, repeating to his loved ones about him the comforting words of a sublime hope: "Why should you grieve? To be absent from the body is to be with the Lord, to be with the Lord is to see the Lord, to see the Lord is to be like Him."122 The one conceived that he had reached the end of life, and looked back upon the little space that had been allotted to him without remorse, indeed, but not without a sense of its incompleteness; the other contemplated all that he had been enabled to do through the many years of rich fruitage which had fallen to him, as but childhood's preparation for the true life which in death was but dawning upon him.123

Endnotes:

1. Reprinted from The Presbyterian Review, ix. 1888, pp. 569-601.

2. First published in the Deutsche Rundschau, then in the Separat-Ausgabe of Professor Haeckel's paper: "Die Naturanschauung von Darwin, Goethe und Lamarck," p. 60, note 17. Afterward also in English journals: see The Academy, Nos. 545, 546, 547, 548 (xxii. 1882).

3. The National Reformer for October 29th, 1882.

4. "The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, including an autobiographical chapter." Edited by his son, Francis Darwin. In three volumes. London: John Murray, 1888. Seventh thousand, revised. All references in the present paper are to this edition.

5. "Life and Letters," i. p. 304: written in 1879.

6. Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, cxliii. 1888, p. 105.

7. Rev. John Yardley, in the Modern Review, July, 1882, p. 504.

8. "Life and Letters," i. p. 166.

9. Dr. W. B. Carpenter, in the Modern Review, July, 1882, pp. 523, 524.

10. "Life and Letters," i. p. 311 (1876).

11. "Life and Letters," i. p. 31.

12. Ibid., i. p. 45.

13. An interesting indication that in Mr. Darwin's mature judgment the Bible does teach the doctrines of the Creed.

14. "Life and Letters," i. p. 45.

15. Ibid., i. p. 165.

16. Ibid., i. p. 48.

17. Ibid., i. p. 49.

18. Ibid., i. p. 188.

19. Ibid., i. p. 188.

20. Ibid., i. pp. 171.

21. Ibid., i. p. 177f.

22. "Life and Letters," i. p. 171.

23. Ibid., i. p. 47.

24. Ibid., i. p. 199.

25. Ibid., i. p. 197.

26. Ibid., i. p. 45.

27. Ibid., i. p. 262.

28. Ibid., i. p. 45.

29. Cf. his words of appreciation of missionary work, ibid., i. p. 264. See also i. p. 246.

30. "Life and Letters," i. pp. 307 f.

31. "Life and Letters," i. pp. 100ff.

32. Ibid., i. p. 68.

33. Ibid., ii. p. 1.

34. Ibid., i. p. 307.

35. Ibid., ii. p. 181.

36. Ibid., i. pp. 308 f.

37. National Reformer, xl. 1882, p. 292.

38. "Life and Letters," i. pp. 307-309.

39. See them in full, "Life and Letters," i. p. 308. It is interesting to observe that they all circle around miracles, evincing that Mr. Darwin found difficulty in persuading himself that these miracles did not take place.

40. "Life and Letters," i. pp. 308, 309.

41. Note the word "directly."

42. "Life and Letters," ii. pp. 288 f.

43. Ibid., ii. p. 152.

44. Ibid., i. p. 340.

45. Ibid., ii. p. 143.

46. Ibid., i. p. 380.

47. Ibid., i. p. 388; cf. iii, p. 39, note $, written in 1863.

48. "Life and Letters," i. pp. 127, 128.

49. In the case of many others it has not proved inevitable, as e.g. in the case of Dr. W. B. Carpenter, whose opinion is worth quoting here, because his general conception of the relation of God to the universe seems to be very similar to what Mr. Darwin's originally was. "To myself," he writes, in an interesting paper on "The Doctrine of Evolution in its Relations to Theism" (Modern Review, October, 1882, p. 685), "the conception of a continuity of action which required no departure to meet special contingencies, because the plan was all-perfect in the beginning, is a fat higher and nobler one than that of a succession of interruptions.... And in describing the process of evolution in the ordinary language of Science, as due to 'secondary causes,' we no more dispense with a First Cause, than we do when we speak of those Physical Forces, which, from the Theistic point of view, are so many diverse modes of manifestation of one and the same Power. Nor do we in the least set aside the idea of an original Design, when we regard these adaptations which are commonly attributed to special exertions of contriving power and wisdom, as the outcome of an all-comprehensive Intelligence which foresaw that the product would be 'good,' before calling into existence the germ from which it would be evolved."

50. "Life and Letters," i. p. 313.

51. Ibid., iii. p. 236 (1878).

52. See e.g. i. pp. 305, 306 (1871).

53. Ibid., ii. pp. 210 f., written October 11th, 1859.

54. Ibid., ii. p. 174.

55. Ibid., iii. p. 151.

56. "The Descent of Man," i. pp. 62 ff.

57. Journal of Science, xix. 1882, pp. 751 f.

58. "Life and Letters," ii. p. 228.

59. Ibid., i. p. 312.

60. Ibid., i. p. 307.

61. Ibid., ii. p. 9 (1837).

62. We have seen that Dr. W. B. Carpenter refuses to be held in Mr. Darwin's logic, although with him holding to a somewhat deistic conception of the divine relation to the process of development. "Attach what weight we may to the physical causes which have brought about this Evolution," he insists, "I cannot see how it is possible to conceive of any but a Moral Cause for the endowments that made the primordial germ susceptible of their action" (loc. cit., p. 680). "And in the so-called laws of Organic Evolution, I see nothing but the orderly and continuous working-out of the original Intelligent Design" (p. 681). Dr. W. H. Dallinger also begins with a similar conception (comparing God's relation to the universe to the relation to his work of a machinist who constructs a calculating machine to throw numbers of one order for a given time and then introduce suddenly a new series, "by prevised and preordained arrangement"), and yet refuses the conclusion. "Evolution," he argues, "like gravitation, is only a method; and the self-adjustments demonstrated in the 'origin of species' only make it, to reason, the clearer, that variation and survival is a method that took its origin in mind. It is true that the egg of a moth, and the eye of a dog-fish, and the forearm of a tiger must be what they are to accomplish the end of their being. But that only shows, as we shade our mental eyes, and gaze back to the beginning, the magnificence of the design that was involved in nature's beginning, so as to be evolved, by the designed rhythm of nature's methods." See the whole passage in his eloquent Fernley lecture for 1887, on "The Creator, and what we may Know of the Method of Creation" (London: T. Woolmer, 1887), pp. 61 f.

63. "Life and Letters," ii. pp. 303, 304.

64. How much of the argument depends on this word!

65. "Life and Letters," ii. pp. 311, 312.

66. Dr. Flint seriously refutes this strange reasoning, which he justly speaks of as "irrational," and only explicable in "sane minds" from the exigencies of foregone conclusions, in his "Theism," lecture vi. (ed. 3, pp. 189f.).

67. "Life and Letters," i. pp. 314, 315.

68. Ibid., ii. pp. 353, 354.

69. "Life and Letters," ii. p. 373.

70. Mr. Francis Darwin indicates in a note that Dr. Gray's metaphor occurs in the essay "Darwin and his Reviewers" ("Darwiniana," p. 157): "The whole animate life of a country depends absolutely upon the vegetation, the vegetation upon the rain. The moisture is furnished by the ocean, is raised by the sun's heat from the ocean's surface, and is wafted inland by the winds. But what multitudes of rain-drops fall back into the ocean - are as much without a final cause as the incipient varieties which come to nothing! Does it therefore follow that the rains which are bestowed upon the soil with such rule and average regularity were not designed to support vegetable and animal life?"

71. "Life and Letters," i. pp. 313, 314.

72. National Reformer, October 29th, 1882.

73. "Life and Letters," ii. p. 377.

74. Ibid., ii. p. 378.

75. Ibid., ii. p. 382.

76. "Life and Letters," iii. p. 62.

77. Ibid., i. p. 309.

78. "Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication," authorized edition, ii. 1868, pp. 515 f.

79. With reference to the first simile of the extract Dr. Gray pointedly urged: "But in Mr. Darwin's parallel, to meet the case of nature according to his own view of it, not only the fragments of rock (answering to variation) should fall, but the edifice (answering to natural selection) should rise, irrespective of will or choice! "Mr. Darwin ("Life and Letters," iii. p. 84) calls this "a good slap," but thinks it does not essentially meet the point. Mr. F. Darwin (loc. cit.) answers it lamely by observing that according to his father's parallel natural selection should be the architect, not the edifice. Do architects get along without "will or choice"?

80. "Life and Letters," iii. p. 116.

81. Ibid., iii. p. 189: "What you say about Teleology pleases me especially, and I do not think that any one else has ever noticed the part." This was written June 5th, 1874. See iii. p. 255, and ii. p. 201.

82. Ibid., i. pp. 309, 310.

83. Ibid., iii. p. 116.

84. Ibid., i. p. 316.

85. This paragraph is a report of what Mr. Darwin says, writing in his Autobiography in 1876: see "Life and Letters," i. pp. 311, 312.

86. Mr, Darwin writes more guardedly here than in his "Descent of Man," i. 1871, p. 63, where he declares, chiefly on Sir John Lubbock's authority, that there are "numerous races" who have no idea of "one or more gods, and who have no words in their languages to express such an idea." Professor Flint, in his "Antitheistic Theories," lecture vii., with its appropriate appendixes, has sifted this question of fact, with the result of showing the virtual universality of religion.

87. See this criticism properly pressed by Dr. Noah Porter, in New Englander and Yale Review, for March, 1888, p. 207.

88. The elements which in his view unite to form a religious emotion are enumerated for us in the "Descent of Man," i. p. 65: "The feeling of religious devotion is a highly complex one, consisting of love, complete submission to an exalted and mysterious superior, a strong sense of dependence, fear, reverence, gratitude, hope for the future, and perhaps other elements." How, in these circumstances, he can speak of his state of mind, involving "feelings of wonder, admiration, and devotion" ("Life and Letters," i. p. 311), as one which "did not essentially differ from that which is often called the sense of sublimity," is somewhat mysterious. But we must remember that even this complex of emotions was, in Mr. Darwin's view, distantly approached by certain mental states of dogs and monkeys. Nevertheless, the whole drift of the passage in the "Descent of Man" is to credit the results of man's reasoning faculties as he progressed more and more in the power to use them; while the drift of the present passage is to discredit them.

89. "Life and Letters," i. p. 312.

90. "Life and Letters," iii. p. 186, written July 8th, 1876.

91. Ibid., i. p. 316: written in 1881.

92. Ibid., ii. p. 312.

93. Ibid., ii. p. 353.

94. Ibid., i. pp. 313 f.

95. Ibid., i. p. 306.

96. Ibid., i. pp. 312 f.

97. Ibid., i. p. 316.

98. Ibid., i. p. 316.

99. Ibid., i. p. 316.

100. "Life and Letters," i. pp. 306, 307.

101. E.g. ii. p. 210.

102. Ibid., ii. p. 251.

103. Ibid., iii. p. 236.

104. "Theism," ed. 3, p. 120. See also note xxii. p. 390: "Creation is the only theory of the origin of the universe. Evolution assumes either the creation or the self-existence of the universe. The evolutionist must choose between creation and non-creation. They are opposites. There is no intermediate term. The attempt to introduce one - the Unknowable - can lead to no result; for unless the Unknowable is capable of creating, it can account for the origin of nothing." The whole note should be read.

105. "Life and Letters," iii. p. 169.

106. Ibid., i. pp. 307-313.

107. "Life and Letters," i. p. 304.

108. Ibid., i. p. 307.

109. Ibid., iii. p. 236 (1878).

110. F. W. H. Myers, in the Fortnightly Review, January, 1888, p. 103.

111. "Life and Letters," ii. p. 250.

112. "Life and Letters," iii. pp. 63, 64.

113. Ibid., iii, pp. 127, 128.

114. Ibid., i. p. 307.

115. What Mr. Darwin actually taught as to the moral sense may be conveniently read in the third chapter of the "Descent of Man." "This sense," he says, "as Mackintosh remarks, 'has a rightful supremacy over every other principle of human action;' it is summed up in that short but imperious word ought, so full of high significance" (i. 1871, p. 67). But what gives this "imperious word ought" so rightful a supremacy? Mr. Darwin teaches that "the moral sense is fundamentally identical with the social instincts" (pp. 93f.), and that "the imperious word ought seems merely to employ the consciousness of the existence of a persistent instinct, either innate or partly acquired," so that "we hardly use the word ought in a metaphorical sense when we say hounds ought to hunt, pointers to point, and retrievers to retrieve their game" (p. 88). He has, indeed, "endeavored to show that the social instincts - the prime principle of man's moral constitution - with the aid of active intellectual powers and the effects of habit, naturally lead to the golden rule, 'As ye would that men should do to you, do ye to them likewise;' and this lies at the foundation of morality" (pp. 101, 102). But this is not because the golden rule is any more truly "moral" than any other rule. "Any animal whatever, endowed with well-marked social instincts, would inevitably acquire a moral sense or conscience, as soon as its intellectual powers had become as well developed, or nearly as well developed, as in man" (pp. 68, 69); but not necessarily "exactly the same moral sense as ours" (p. 70). For instance, bees so developing a moral sense would develop one which required it as a duty to murder their brothers and fertile daughters. Thus the moral law has no more sanction than arises from its being the best mode of conserving the common good, as it is known in present conditions; and its very opposite might be as moral and as imperious under changed conditions. Mr. Darwin's own tender conscience was thus, in his own eyes, nothing more than the dissatisfaction that arose from an unsatisfied inherited instinct (p. 69)!

116. How inevitable this was may be seen from the temperate discussion of the relation of naturalistic evolution to the sense of sin, in John Tulloch's "The Christian Doctrine of Sin," lecture i.

117. "Life and Letters," iii. p. 359 (1879).

118. Ibid., iii. p. 358.

119. "The Life of Charles Hodge," by his son, A. A. Hodge, 1880, p. 13.

120. "Life and Letters," i. p. 31.

121. "Life," p. 13.

122. "Life," p. 582.

123. Since this paper was put into type a new letter of Mr. Darwin's on his religious views has come to light, which adds, indeed, nothing to what we already knew, but which is so characteristic as to deserve insertion here. It is dated March 11th, 1878, and runs as follows: "Dear Sir: I should have been very glad to have aided you in any degree if it had been in my power. But to answer your question would require an essay, and for this I have not strength, being much out of health. Nor, indeed, could I have answered it distinctly and satisfactorily with any amount of strength. The strongest argument for the existence of God, as it seems to me, is the instinct or intuition which we all (as I suppose) feel that there must have been an intelligent beginner of the Universe; but then comes the doubt and difficulty whether such intuitions are trustworthy. I have touched on one point of difficulty in the two last pages of my 'Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication,' but I am forced to leave the problem insoluble. No man who does his duty has anything to fear, and may hope for whatever he earnestly desires. - Dear Sir, yours faithfully, Ch. Darwin." (See The British Weekly for August 3d, 1888.)

The Latest Phase of Historical Rationalism1

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

FIRST ARTICLE

I. "DOGMA," AND "EXTERNAL AUTHORITY"

Mr. G. A. Simcox, reviewing Dr. Liddon's recently published "Life of Pusey," tells us that Dr. Pusey "developed into a great tactician, who kept an academical majority together in face of all manner of discouragement from outside."2 Nothing is more remarkable, indeed, than the prosperity of Dr. Pusey's leadership, and the success with which he impressed his peculiar modes of thinking upon a whole church. The secret of it is not to be found, however, in any "tact" which he may be supposed to have exercised - as we might be led to suspect by the mere sound of the word "tactician." Dr. Pusey had as great a capacity for blundering as any man who ever lived; and one wonders how his cause could survive his repeated and gross errors of judgment. "What strikes us rather," says Mr. Simcox truly, "is how many false moves he made, and how little harm they did him." The secret of it is found in his intensity, steadfastness, and single-hearted devotion to what he believed to be divine truth. The mere "tactician" has always ultimately failed, since the world began. The blunderer who lays himself a willing sacrifice upon the altar of what he believes to be the truth of God has never wholly failed. This is true even when truth has been misconceived. The power of truth is the greatest power on earth. Next to it, however, is the power of sincere, earnest, and steadfast conviction.

Dr. Pusey himself lays open to us the secret of his power, in a letter written to Dr. Hook in the period of the deepest depression of the fortunes of "the party." "I am quite sure," he says, "that nothing can resist infidelity except the most entire system of faith; one said mournfully, 'I could have had faith; I cannot have opinions.' One must have a strong, positive, objective system which people are to believe, because it is true, on authority out of themselves. Be that authority what it may, the Scriptures through the individual teaching of the Spirit, the Primitive Church, the Church when it was visibly one, the present Church, it must be a strong authority out of one's self."3 Here is the most successful leader of modern times telling us the principles that gave force to his leadership. What do they prove to be? Two: the steadfast, consistent proclamation of an "entire system of faith," strong, positive, objective, which people are required to believe on the simple ground that it is true; and the foundation of this system upon an external authority, an "authority out of one's self." All experience bears Dr. Pusey out. The only propagandism that has ever won a lasting hold upon men has been the bold proclamation of positive, dogmatic truth, based on external, divine authority; and the only power that can resist the infidelity of our day is the power of consistently concatenated dogmatic truth, proclaimed on the authority of a fully trusted, "Thus saith the Lord."

The value of positive truth proclaimed on the basis of divine authority, is not to be measured, of course, simply by its usefulness in propagating Christianity. It has an individual importance which is far greater. Without it Christianity would not be able to acquire or maintain empire over the soul. Adolphe Monod points out, for example, how dependent we are for all adequate conceptions of sin upon the dogmatic teachings of "external authority." "Our own personal meditations," he tells us,4 "will never reveal to us what sin is; and here I particularly feel the necessity and the reality of the inspiration and Divine authority of the Scriptures, because we should never have learned to know what sin is, unless we learned it from obedience to an outward authority superior to us, independent of our secret feelings, upon which we ought certainly to meditate with study and fervent prayers. But enlightened truth comes from above, is given by the Spirit of God, speaking with the authority of God himself; for we must begin by believing the horror that sin ought to inspire, before we are capable of feeling it." And he points out equally how dependent we are for a proper basis for faith on the same "external authority." "The more I study the Scriptures," he says,5 "the example of Jesus Christ, and of the Apostles, and the history of my own heart, the more I am convinced that a testimony of God, placed without us and above us, exempt from all intermixture of the sin and error which belong to a fallen race, and received with submission on the sole authority of God, is the true basis of faith." "If faith," he says,6 "has not for its basis a testimony of God to which we must submit, as to an authority exterior to our own personal judgment, superior to it, and independent of it, then faith is no faith." That this witness is true, the heart of every Christian may be trusted to bear witness. But for the moment we may fix our attention on the more external fact already adverted to, that the only basis of an appeal to men which can at all hope to be prevalent is positive truth commended on the credit of "external authority."

What is ominous in the present-day drift of religious thought is the sustained effort that is being made to break down just these two principles: the principle of a systematized body of doctrines as the matter to be believed, and the principle of an external authority as the basis of belief. What arrogates to itself the title of "the newer religious thinking" sets itself, before everything else, in violent opposition to what it calls "dogma" and "external authority." The end may be very readily foreseen. Indefinite subjectivism or subjective indifferentism has no future. It is not only in its very nature a disintegrating, but also a destructive, force. It can throw up no barrier against unbelief. Its very business is to break down barriers. And when that work is accomplished the floods come in.

The assault on positive doctrinal teaching is presented today chiefly under the flag of "comprehension." Men bewail the divisions of the Church of Christ, and propose that we shall stop thinking, so that we may no longer think differently. This is the true account to give of many of the phases of the modern movement for "church union." Men are tired of thinking. They are tired of defending the truth. Let us all stop thinking, stop believing, they cry, and what a happy family we shall be! Look into Mr. David Nelson Beach's recent book (1893), which he calls "The Newer Religious Thinking," but which seems to us to be rather a plea for unthinking irreligion, and see how clearly this is its dominant note. He tells us that God is no more a respecter of religions than of persons; that the doctrine of the Trinity is a mere philosophy and ought no longer to stand between brethren; that access to God is no longer to be represented as exclusively "as a matter of terms," through Christ. In a word, the lines that separate evangelical from "liberal" Christianity, and those that separate distinctive Christianity from the higher heathenism, are to be obliterated. We are no longer to defend anything that any religious soul doubts. We are to recognize every honest worshiper as a child of God, though the God he worships may be but another name for force or for the world.

We find the seeds of this movement towards "comprehension" in the most unlikely places. Even Dr. Schaff, in his latest book, represents himself as occupying a position in which not only Arminianism, Lutheranism, and Calvinism, but also Rationalism and Supranaturalism, are reconciled. It is essentially present wherever the concessive habit of dealing with truth has taken root. For what is the "concessive" method of controversy but a neat device by which one may appear to conquer while really yielding the citadel? It is as if the governor of a castle should surrender it to the foe if only the foe will permit him to take possession of it along with them. On this pathway there is no goal except the ultimate naturalization of Christianity, and that means the perishing of distinctive Christianity out of the earth. Dr. Pusey calls attention to the fact that the Rationalists of Germany were the descendants not of the unbelievers of former controversies, but of the "defenders" of Christianity. The method of concession was tried, and that was the result. The so-called "defenders" were found in the camp of the enemy.

Along with this attack on distinctive truth goes necessarily an accompanying attack on "external authority in religion." For if there be an "external authority," that which it teaches is true for all. This canker, too, has therefore necessarily entered our churches. It exists in various stages of development. It begins by rejecting the authority of the Bible for minor matters only - in the "minima," in "circumstantials" and "by-passages" and "incidental remarks," and the like. The next step is to reject its authority for everything except "matters of faith and practice." Then comes unwillingness to bow to all its doctrinal deliverances and ethical precepts; and we find men like Dr. DeWitt, of New Brunswick, and Mr. Horton, of London, subjecting the religious and ethical contents of the Bible to the judgment of their "spiritual instinct." Then the circle is completed by setting aside the whole Bible as authority; perchance with the remark, so far as the New Testament is concerned, that in the apostolic age men depended each on the spirit in his own heart, and no one dreamed of making the New Testament the authoritative word of God, while it was only in the later second century that the canon was formed, and "external authority" took the place of "internal authority." This point of view comes to its rights only when every shred of "external authority" in religion is discarded, and appeal is made to what is frankly recognized as purely human reason: we call it then Rationalism. It is only another form of this Rationalism, however, when it would fain believe that what it appeals to within the human breast is not the unaided spirit of man, but the Holy Ghost in the heart, the Logos, the strong voice of God. In this form it asks, "Were the Quakers right?" and differs from technical Rationalism only in a matter of temperature, the feelings and not the cold reason alone being involved: we call it then Mysticism.

Of course men cannot thus reject the Bible, to which Christ appealed as authoritative, without rejecting also the authority of Christ, which is thus committed to the Bible's authority. Accordingly, we already find not only a widespread tendency to neglect the authority of Christ on many points, but also a formal rejection of that authority by respectable teachers in the churches. We are told that authority is limited by knowledge, and that Christ's knowledge was limited to pure religion. We are told that even in matters of religion He accommodated Himself, in the form at least of His teachings, to the times in which He lived. Thus all "external authority" is gradually evaporated, and men are left to the sole authority each of his own spirit, whether under the name of reason or under the name of the Holy Spirit in the heart. As each man's spirit has, of course, its separate rights, all basis for objective doctrine thus departs from the earth.

The attitude of mind which is thus outlined constitutes the most dangerous, because the most fundamental, of heresies. Distinctive Christianity, supernatural religion, cannot persist where this blight is operative. It behooves the Church, if it would consult its peace or even preserve its very life, to open its eyes to the working of the evil leaven. Nor will it do to imagine that we shall have to face in it only a sporadic or temporary tendency of thought. It is for this tendency of thought that the powerful movement known in Germany as Ritschlism practically stands. And it has already acquired in America the proportions of an organized propaganda, with its literary organ, its summer schools, its apostles and its prophets. It is something like this Ritschlite Rationalism that Professor George D. Herron teaches in his numerous works, as the coming form of Christianity. It is something like it that Mr. B. Fay Mills is propagating in his evangelistic tours. It is something like it that The Kingdom is offering to the churches; and that those whom that newspaper has gathered to its support are banded to make a force in the land. Surely there is clamant need to inform ourselves of its meaning and its purposes.

II. RITSCHLITE RATIONALISM

"Rationalism" never is the direct product of unbelief. It is the indirect product of unbelief, among men who would fain hold their Christian profession in the face of an onset of unbelief, which they feel too weak to withstand. Rationalism is, therefore, always a movement within the Christian Church; and its adherents are characterized by an attempt to save what they hold to be the essence of Christianity, by clearing it from what they deem to be accretions, or by surrendering what they feel to be no longer defensible features of its current representations. The name historically represents specifically that form of Christian thought which, under the pressure of eighteenth century deism, felt no longer able to maintain a Christianity that needed to appeal to other evidences of its truth than the human reason; and which, therefore, yielded to the enemy every element of Christian teaching which could not validate itself to the logical understanding on axiomatic grounds. The effect was to reduce Christianity to a "natural religion."

The most recent form of Rationalism, the Ritschlite, partakes, of course, of the general Rationalistic features. In its purely theological aspect, its most prominent characteristic is an attempt to clear theology of all "metaphysical" elements. Otherwise expressed, this means that nothing will be admitted to belong to Christianity except facts of experience; the elaboration of these facts into "dogmas" contains "metaphysical" elements. For example, the Ritschlite defines God as love. He means by this that the Christian experiences God as love, and this much he therefore knows. Beyond that, he cannot define God; since all question of what God is in Himself, as distinguished from what God is to us, belongs to the sphere of "metaphysics," and is, therefore, out of the realm of religion. Similarly, the Ritschlite defines Christ as Lord, and declares that the saying of Luther, Er ist mein Herr, includes all that we need to believe concerning Christ. He means by this that the Christian experiences Christ as his master, bows before His life and teaching, and therefore knows Him as Lord. But beyond what he can verify in such experiences, he knows nothing of Him. For example, he can know, in such experience, nothing of Christ's preexistence, and cannot control anything told us about it by any available tests; he can know nothing of Christ's present activities by such experience; but he can know something of the power and worth of His historical apparition, in such experience. All that is outside the reach of such verification belongs to the sphere of "metaphysics," and is, therefore, out of the realm of religion. The effort is to save the essence of Christianity from all possible danger from the speculative side. The means taken to effect this is to yield the whole sphere of "metaphysical" thought to the enemy. The result is the destruction of the whole system of Christian doctrine. Doctrine cannot be stated without what the Ritschlite calls "metaphysical elements"; a theory of knowledge underlies, indeed, the Ritschlite construction of "Christianity without metaphysics itself." But, however inconsistently, the Ritschlite contention ultimates in an "undogmatic Christianity." Theology, we are told, is killing religion.

But Christianity as it has come down to us is very far from being an undogmatic Christianity. The history of Christianity is the history of doctrine. Ritschlite Rationalism must, therefore, deal with a historical problem, as well as with a speculative and a practical one. What is it to do with a historical Christianity which is a decidedly doctrinal Christianity? Its task is obviously to explain the origin and development of doctrinal Christianity in such a manner as to evince essential Christianity to be undogmatic. Its task, in a word, is historically to explain doctrinal Christianity as corrupted Christianity; or, in other words, to explain the rise and development of doctrine as a series of accretions from without, overlying and concealing Christianity. Ritschlism, in the very nature of the case, definitely breaks with the whole tradition of Christian doctrine, from Justin Martyr down. Adolf Harnack, one of the most learned of modern church historians, has consecrated his great stores of knowledge and his great powers to the performance of the task thus laid upon his school of thought.

The characteristic feature of Harnack's reconstruction of the history of Christian dogma, in the interests of Ritschlite Rationalism, is to represent all Christian doctrine as the product of Greek thought on Christian ground. The simple gospel of Christ was the gospel of love. On the basis of this gospel the ancient world built up the Catholic Church, but in doing so it built itself bankrupt. That is, the ancient world transferred itself to the Church; and in what we call church theology we are looking only at the product of heathen thinking on the basis of the gospel. To make our way back to original Christianity, we must shovel off this whole superincumbent mass until we arrive at the pure kernel of the gospel itself, hidden beneath. That kernel is simple subjective faith in God as Father, revealed to us as such by Jesus Christ.

These new teachings have been variously put within the reach of the American churches. Professor Mitchell, of Hartford Seminary, has given us a translation of Harnack's "Outlines of the History of Dogma." Mr. Rutherfurd has published a translation of Moeller's "History of the Christian Church," in which Harnack's views are adopted and ably reproduced. Williams and Norgate, the great "liberal" publishing-house of London, are issuing a translation of Harnack's great "History of Dogma." The writings of Edwin Hatch, the Oxford representative of Ritschlism, have had a wide circulation on this side of the sea. But of late years something more has come to be reckoned with within the American churches than such literary importations. Young American students, visiting German universities, have returned home enthusiastic devotees of the "new views." They have been commended to them by the immense learning of Harnack; by his attractive personality and his clear and winning methods of presenting his views; by the great vogue which they have won in Germany; and possibly by a feeling on their own part that they offer a mode of dealing with the subject which will lessen the difficulty of the Christian apologist in defending the faith. The less faith you have to defend the easier it is apt to seem to defend it. At all events, it is a fact that the historical Rationalism of the Ritschlite is now also an American movement and needs to be reckoned with as such. There are in particular three recent American publications in which the influence of Harnack's rationalizing reconstruction of Christian history is dominating, to which attention ought to be called in this connection: The first of these is a very readable "Sketch of the History of the Apostolic Church," by Professor Oliver J. Thatcher, formerly of the United Presbyterian Seminary at Allegheny, but now of the University of Chicago. Another is the very able Inaugural Address, delivered by Professor Arthur C. McGiffert at his induction into the chair of Church History at Union Theological Seminary, New York, which deals with the subject of "Primitive and Catholic Christianity." The third is a lecture by the Rev. Dr. Thomas C. Hall, of Chicago, pronounced before the students of Queens University, Kingston, Canada, and bearing the title of "Faith and Reason in Religion." Anyone who will take the trouble to look into these publications will soon become convinced of the importance of observing what the American churches are now being taught by the pupils of Harnack as to the origin of Christianity.

It will then, doubtless, repay us to look for a moment into this matter. The best way to do so is doubtless to analyze briefly one of these three publications. We select for the purpose Dr. McGiffert's brief and admirably clear paper. And in the following pages we shall attempt to give as clear an account of its contents as the necessity for succinctness will allow.

Dr. McGiffert begins with a few remarks on the function of church history and the duty of the historian of the Church. The object of the whole of church history is, he tells us, to enable us to understand Christianity better, and to fit us "to distinguish between its essential and non-essential elements."7 And the special task of the historian is to "discover by a careful study of Christianity at successive stages of its career whether it has undergone any transformations and, if so, what those transformations are" (p. 17). It is not the duty of the historian to pass judgment on the value of any assimilations or accretions which Christianity may be found to have made. That is the theologian's work. The historian's is only to make clear what belonged to the original form of Christianity and what has been acquired by it, in its process of growth, in its environment of the world. Dr. McGiffert gives us to understand, however, that, in his opinion, the value of an element of our system is not to be determined merely by its origin: whether it belonged to original Christianity or has been acquired by it from the world. Its right to a place in the Christian system is to be determined solely by what we deem its vital relation to, or at least its harmony with, Christianity itself.

He chooses as his subject, the portrayal of "the most vital and far-reaching transformation that Christianity has ever undergone - a transformation, the effects of which the entire Christian Church still feels, and which has in my opinion done more than anything else to conceal Christianity's original form and to obscure its true character" (p. 18). This is the transformation of the primitive into the Catholic Church; and it was "practically complete before the end of the second century of the Church's life." He points out that it would be too much to attempt to explain such a momentous transformation in all its features in the limits of a single discourse. He confines himself, therefore, to indicating and explaining as fully as the time at his disposal permitted, the change of spirit which constitutes the essence of the transformation.

He begins with a picture of the primitive, that is, of the apostolic Church. Its spirit was "the spirit of religious individualism, based upon the felt presence of the Holy Ghost" (p. 19). That is to say, it was the universal conviction of the primitive Church that, every Christian had, in the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in him, a personal source of inspiration at his disposal, to which he could turn in every time of need. There was, therefore, no occasion for an authority for Christian teaching, external to the individual's own spirit; and there had arisen no conception, accordingly, as yet, of a "rule of faith," or of a "New Testament Canon." The only authority that was recognized was the Holy Spirit; and He was supposed to speak to every believer as truly as He spoke to an apostle. There was no instituted Church, and no external bond of Christian unity. There were some common forms of worship, and Christians met together for mutual edification; but their only bond of union was their common possession of the Spirit of God and their common ideal and hope. There was no intervening class of clerics, standing between the Christian and the source of grace; but every Christian enjoyed immediate contact with God through the Spirit. Such was the spirit of the primitive Church - of the Church of the apostles and of the Church of the post-apostolic age, for there was no change of spirit on the death of the apostles. The Church of the second half of the second century believed itself as truly and exclusively under the authority of the indwelling Spirit as the apostolic Church and as the apostles themselves. On historic grounds, we can draw no distinction between the apostolic and post-apostolic ages on the ground of supernatural endowment.

The change of spirit which marks the rise of the Catholic Church took place, then, in the second century. In general terms, it was the result of the secularization of the Church and of the effort of the Church to avoid such secularization. Among the heathen brought into the Church in the second century, gradually more and more men of education were included. Among these were some philosophical spirits of a Platonizing tendency, who brought into the Church with them a habit of speculation. Their speculative theories they represented as Christianity, and they appealed to the authority of the apostles in their favor. Thus arose the first theologizing in the Christian Church; the Gnostics were the first creed-builders within the limits of the Church and the first inventors of the idea of apostolic authority, and of the consequent conception of an apostolic Christian canon. And it was in conflict with them that the Church, for her part, first reached the conception of apostolic authority and of an apostolic canon, and gradually developed the full conception of authority which gave us finally the full-fledged Catholic Church.

The steps by which this transformation was made were three: "First, the recognition of the teaching of the Apostles as the exclusive standard and norm of Christian truth; second, the confinement to a specific office (viz., the Catholic office of bishop) of the power to determine what is the teaching of the Apostles; and third, the designation of a specific institution (viz., the Catholic Church) as the sole channel of divine grace" (p. 29). The transformation was, it will be seen, complete. The spirit of free individualism under the sole guidance of the indwelling Spirit, which characterized the primitive Church, passed permanently away. The spirit of submission to "external authority" took permanently its place. The transformation to Catholicism means simply, then, that the Church had emptied itself of its spiritual heritage, that it had denuded itself of its spiritual power, and that it had invented for itself, and subjected itself to, a complete system of "external authority." The first step was to recognize the exclusive authority of apostolic teaching. Thus Christians laid aside their privilege of being the constant organs of the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, and framed for themselves a "rule of faith" (Creed) and a New Testament Scripture (Canon). The next step was to confine to a particular office the power to transmit and interpret that teaching. The believer was thus permanently denied not only the privilege of receiving divine revelations, but also the right to interpret for himself the revelations received and transmitted by the apostles. The last step was to confine the transmission of grace itself to the organized Church, so that out of it there could be no salvation. Thus the believer's last privilege was taken from him; he could no longer possess anything save as through the Church. When this last step was completed, the Catholic Church was complete.

No "transformations" of the Church have taken place since this great transformation. Changes have occurred, and changes which may seem to the casual observer of more importance. But, in fact, the Church is still living in the epoch of the Catholic Church. The Reformation was, indeed, an attempt at a real "transformation," and it has wrought a real "transformation" upon as much of the Church as has accepted it. It was a revival of the primitive spirit of individualism, and a rejection of "external authority." But the Reformation has affected only a small portion of the Church; and it was, even for the Protestant Churches, only a partial revival of the primitive spirit. It "did not repudiate, it retained the Catholic conception of an apostolic Scripture canon - a conception which the primitive Church had entirely lacked" (p. 42). Thus it has retained the essential Catholic idea of an "external authority." But the Reformers sought to bring this idea into harmony with the primitive conception of the continued action of the Holy Spirit in the hearts of true believers; and it is by this fact alone that Protestants can be justified in retaining the Scriptures as a rule of faith and practice. The true statement of the Protestant position, therefore, is not, That the word of God contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments is the sole and ultimate standard of Christian truth. It is, "That the Spirit of God is the sole and ultimate standard for Christian truth - the Spirit of God who spoke through the Apostles and who still speaks to his people" (p. 43); it is, That "the Holy Spirit, which voices itself both in the teaching of the Apostles and in the enlightened Christian consciousness of true believers," is "the only source and standard of spiritual truth" (p. 42).

This is, as briefly as possible, the gist of Dr. McGiffert's Address. Two things are to be especially noted in it: First, the whole development of a Christian "authority" - the rise alike of the very conception of authority as attributed to the apostles, and of the conception of a New Testament canon is assigned to post-apostolic times. The Church of the apostles, and the apostles themselves, knew nothing of an authoritative Christian teaching. Thus all Christian doctrine is a human product, and of no real authority in the Church. And, secondly, the Christian Scriptures are in no sense the authoritative rule of faith and practice which we have been taught to believe that they are. The apostles who wrote them did not intend them as such. The Church which received them did not receive them as such. The Protestant Churches can be justified in declaring them such, only provided they do not mean to erect them over the Christian spirit - "the Christian consciousness of true believers" - but mean only to place them side by side with it as co-source of the knowledge of Christian truth. This is, of course, to deny "authority" to the New Testament in toto. If we are to follow Dr. McGiffert, therefore, we are to renounce all doctrinal Christianity at a stroke, and to reject all "authority" in the New Testament, on pain of being unprimitive and unapostolic. These things are, according to his conception, parts of the accretion that has gathered itself to Christianity in its passage through the ages.

This, then, is the question which the introduction of the Ritschlite historical Rationalism has brought to the American churches. Are we prepared to surrender the whole body of Christian doctrine as being no part of essential Christianity, but the undivine growth of ages of human development, the product of the "transformations" of Christianity, or, as Dr. T. C. Hall phrases it with admirable plainness of speech, the product of the "degradations" of Christianity? Are we prepared to surrender the New Testament canon, as the invention of the second century Church to serve its temporary needs in conflict with heresy? Once more, Dr. Hall gives us an admirably plain-spoken account of what, on this view, was actually done when the canon was made: "The need of an infallible authority to interpret a code gave rise to the fiction of apostolic authority, at first confined to written and spoken messages, and later imbedded in an organization, and inherited by its office-holders." Are we prepared to represent the authority of the apostles, as imbedded in their written words and preserved in our New Testament, as a "fiction"? This is the teaching of the new historical Rationalism; and it is with this teaching that the Church has now to reckon.

Let us now enter a little more into detail as to the meaning of this new teaching; and in order to do this, let us examine more fully one or two of the fundamental positions of Dr. McGiffert's Address. And first of all let us look a moment at

III. DR. MCGIFFERT'S THEORY OF DEVELOPMENT

The learning, the ability, and the skill in the presentation of its material, which characterize Dr. McGiffert's Inaugural Address, will occasion surprise to no one. These things have been confidently expected of the accomplished annotator of Eusebius. There will be many, doubtless, however, who will be surprised to find the fundamental thought of so learned an address, delivered by a Presbyterian professor, to be the presentation of Christianity under the form of a development, of a sort not merely outside the ordinary lines of Protestant thinking, but apparently inconsistent with the most fundamental of Protestant postulates.

When the body of revealed truth was committed into the hands of men, it of course became subject to adulteration with the notions of men. As it was handed down from age to age, it inevitably gathered around it a mass of human accretions, as a snowball grows big as it rolls down a long slope. The importance of that committal of the divine revelation to writing, by which the inspired Scriptures were constituted, becomes thus specially apparent. The "word of God written" stands through all ages as a changeless witness against human additions to, and corruptions of, God's truth. The chief task of historical criticism, in its study of Christianity, becomes also thus very apparent. Dr. James M. Ludlow, who delivered the charge to the new professor, and whose charge is printed along with the Address, does not fail to point this out. Because "what the truth receives in the way of admixture from the passing ages it is apt to retain," therefore he charges the new professor to remember that "the most pressing demand upon historical criticism" is "to separate from essential Christianity what the ages have contributed" (p. 8).

The Reformation was, in this sense, a critical movement. The weapon it used in its conflict with the pretensions of Rome was historical criticism. The task it undertook was to tear off the medieval and patristic swathings in which Christianity had become wrapped in the course of the careless ages, and to stand her once more before men in her naked truth, as she had been presented to the world by Christ and His apostles. "The fittest and most suggestive criticism we can to-day pass on Catholicism," says Adolf Harnack justly, "is to conceive it as Christianity in the garb of the ancient world with a medieval overcoat. . . . What is the Reformation but the word of God which was to set the Church free again? All may be expressed in the single formula, the Reformation is the return to the pure gospel; only what is sacred shall be held sacred; the traditions of men, though they be most fair and most worthy, must be taken for what they are - viz., the ordinances of man."

The principle on which Protestantism proceeded in this great and salutary task had two sides, a negative and a positive one. On the negative side, it took the form that every element of current ecclesiastical teaching or of popular belief, which, on being traced back in history, ran out before Christ's authoritative apostles were reached, was to be accounted a spurious accretion to Christianity and no part of Christianity itself. On the positive side, and this is the so-called "formal principle of Protestantism," it took the form that everything enters as an element into the Christian system that is taught in the Holy Scriptures, which were imposed on the Church as its authoritative rule of faith and practice by the apostles, who were themselves appointed by the Lord as His authoritative agents in establishing the Church, and were endowed with all needed graces and accompanied by all needed assistance from the Holy Spirit for the accomplishing of their task. This is what is meant by that declaration of Chillingworth which has passed into a Protestant proverb: "That the Bible, and the Bible only, is the religion of Protestants." And this is what is meant by the Westminster Confession when it asserts that "the whole counsel of God, concerning all things necessary for His own glory, man's salvation, faith, and life, is either expressly set down in Scripture, or by good and necessary consequence may be deduced from Scripture: unto which nothing at any time is to be added, whether by new revelations of the Spirit or traditions of men" (i. 6). This is the corner-stone of universal Protestantism; and on it Protestantism stands, or else it falls.

This "formal principle" of Protestantism, of course, does not deny that there has been such a thing as a "development of doctrine." It does not make its appeal to the early Church as the norm of Christian truth; and it does not imagine that the first generation of Christians had already sounded all the depths of revelation. It makes its appeal to the Scriptures of God, which embody in written form the teaching of Christ through His apostles upon which the earliest as well as the latest Church was builded. Protestantism expects to find, and does find, a progressive understanding and realization of this teaching of Christ in the Church. The Reformers knew, as well as the end of the nineteenth century knows, that there is a sense in which the Nicene Christology, the Augustinian Anthropology, the Anselmic Soteriology, their own doctrine of Justification by Faith alone, were new in the Church. They thought of nothing so little as discarding these doctrines because they were "new," in the only sense in which they were new. They rather held them to constitute the very essence of Christian truth. They believed in "the development of true Christian doctrine," and looked upon themselves as raised up by God to be the instruments of a new step in this development. Following the Reformers, Protestants universally believe in "the development of true Christian doctrine"; but, as Dr. Ludlow pointedly and truly adds, "not the growth of its revelation, for that we believe was made complete in the New Testament, but its development in the conception of men" (p. 5).

This "development in the conception of men" Protestants are very far from supposing ever to take place, in ever so small a one of its stages, without the illuminating agency of the Holy Spirit. They affirm the activity of the Spirit of revelation in the Church of God continuously through all the ages. And they attribute to His brooding over the confused chaos of human thinking every step that is taken towards a truer or a fuller apprehension of God's saving truth. But they know how to distinguish between "the inward illumination of the Spirit of God," by virtue of which Christian men enter progressively into fuller possession of the truth which was once for all delivered unto the saints, and "new revelations of the Spirit," by virtue of which men may suppose that additions are made to the substance of this truth.

Despite Dr. Ludlow's faithful warnings in the charge which he laid upon him, Dr. McGiffert appears to have failed to make this distinction. In opposition to the fundamental Protestant principle, he teaches that the true system of Christianity has gradually come into existence during the last two millenniums through a process of development. He conceives of "Christianity" (the word has somewhat of the character of an "undistributed middle" in his use of it) as having been planted in "the days of Christ" only in germinal form. From this original germ it has grown through the ages, not merely by unfolding explicitly what was implicitly contained in it, but also by assimilating and making its own elements from without, elements even of late and foreign origin. "The fact that any element of our system is of later growth than Christianity itself does not necessarily condemn it, nor even the fact that it is of foreign growth" (p. 18). For "guarantee of truth" is not given by "general prevalence" or by "age" (as if the question of its tracing to the apostles were a question of mere age!); but the "right [of any element] to a place within the Christian system "is vindicated" only by showing its vital relation to, or at least its harmony with, Christianity itself" (p. 18). Though present-day Christianity contains elements "of late and foreign origin," elements which materially modify the forms of expressing the spirit of primitive Christianity, conceptions even which the primitive Church (i.e. the Church of the apostles) "certainly lacked," it may not be the less pure Christianity on that account. It may even be the more pure Christianity on this very account: it may "mark a real advance" on primitive Christianity.

For we must bear constantly in mind that the right of any elements "to a place within the Christian system" is vindicated solely by their power to express the Christian spirit. This is the true test alike of elements of late and foreign origin and of the elements which entered into primitive Christianity itself. When speaking of the former, Dr. McGiffert makes a significant addition to his sentence so as emphatically to include the latter also. "By the degree to which they give expression to that spirit" (i.e. "the Christian spirit"), he says, "is the value of such elements, and of all elements, to be measured." "If they contribute to its clear, and just, and full expression," he adds, "they vindicate their right to a place within the Christian system; if they hinder that spirit's action, they must be condemned" (p. 42). Thus we learn that there were in primitive Christianity itself - the Christianity of "the days of Christ" and of His apostles - both essential and nonessential elements; elements of permanent and universal worth, and others of only temporary and local significance; and the criterion for distinguishing between them is our own subjective judgment of their fitness to express "the Christian spirit" - of course, according to our own conception of that spirit.

Thus Professor McGiffert takes emphatic issue with both sides of the fundamental Protestant principle. As over against its assertion that the whole counsel of God is set down in Scripture, "unto which nothing at any time is to be added," he declares that it is a "pernicious notion that apostolic authority is necessary for every element of the Christian system" (p. 33); and that elements of even late and foreign origin can "vindicate their right to a place within the Christian system" "by showing their vital relation to, or at least their harmony with, Christianity itself" (p. 18). That is to say, the test of a distinctively Christian truth is not that it is part of that body of truth which was once for all delivered to the saints, as all Protestantism, with one voice, affirms; but whether it seems to us to harmonize with what we consider that Christianity is or ought to be. A subjective criterion thus takes the place of the objective criterion of the written word of God.

Accordingly, as over against the fundamental Protestant principle that "the Holy Scriptures of the Old and the New Testaments are the word of God, the only rule of faith and obedience" (Larger Catechism, Q. 3), Professor McGiffert declares that the teaching of the apostles is not "the sole standard of truth" (p. 33). He is willing to allow, indeed, that the teaching of the apostles was regarded by the primitive Church, and may be rightly regarded by the modern Church, as "a source from which [may] . . . be gained a knowledge of divine truth" (p. 32). But that it is "the only rule," or "standard," he will not admit; or even that it is more than a "source" along with others. For he tells us that Protestants can be justified "in retaining the Scriptures as a rule of faith and practice" (p. 43) only on the condition that they join with the Scriptures for this function "the enlightened Christian consciousness of true believers," affirming the two to be alike the organs of the Holy Ghost, "the only source and standard of spiritual truth" (p. 42). "The true statement of the Protestant position," he adds, "is not that the Word of God, contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, but that the Spirit of God is the sole and ultimate authority for Christian truth - the Spirit of God who spoke through the Apostles and who still speaks to his people" (p. 43). If this be so, the Reformers, the first Protestant divines, and the Reformed Confessions, including our own Standards, were not only ignorant of the "true statement of the Protestant position," but in ineradicable opposition to it. When the Shorter Catechism (Q. 2) asserts that "the word of God which is contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments is the only rule" it speaks with the intention and effect of confining the "word of God," which it declares to be "the only rule," to the Scriptures, and of thereby excluding not only the "word of God" which the Romanist affirms to be presented in objective tradition, but also the "word of God" which the mystic affirms that he enjoys through subjective illumination. And, therefore, the Confession of Faith explicitly explains its assertion that "nothing at any time is to be added" to the "whole counsel of God" "set down in Scripture," by adding: "whether by new revelations of the Spirit or traditions of men" (i. 6). A theory of development on a mystical basis is no less in open contradiction to the "formal principle of Protestantism" than one on a Romish basis.

We have spoken only of Dr. McGiffert's formal theory of development, and have pointed out its inconsistency with the "formal principle" of Protestantism. The material development which, under this formal theory, he would ascribe to Christianity, he does not draw out in the present Address. The Address is consecrated, no doubt, to the depicting of one of the greatest changes which Christianity has undergone; but this change is not one which appears to Dr. McGiffert to commend itself, according to the tests he lays down, as a proper development of Christianity. The material changes in Christianity which are brought to our attention by the Address, therefore, are not illustrations of his theory of development, but are instances of the progressive deterioration of Christianity in its environment of the world. Let us, however, attend for a moment to them.

IV. DR. MCGIFFERT'S THEORY OF THE TRANSFORMATIONS OF CHRISTIANITY

"The subject of study in Church History, as in all the theological sciences," Professor McGiffert tells us in the opening of his Inaugural Address, "is Christianity itself." The church historian's aim is, therefore, "to contribute to a clearer and fuller understanding of Christianity." In the prosecution of this aim he must learn to distinguish between the "essential and non-essential elements" of Christianity, "between that in it which is of permanent and universal worth, and that which is of only temporary and local significance" (p. 16). He must, further, make it his special task "to discover by a careful study of Christianity at successive stages of its career whether it has undergone any transformations, and, if so, what those transformations are" (p. 17). One would think, as we have already pointed out, that the purpose of this discovery would be to obtain knowledge of what belongs really to Christianity, so that the accretions which have gathered to it from without may be rejected, and the original form of that deposit of faith once for all delivered to the saints may be recovered. But Professor McGiffert excludes all passing of judgment on results from the sphere of the historian as such. The historian's business is merely to present a complete picture of the transformations that Christianity has undergone. The theologian comes after him, and estimates the value and meaning of the assimilations and accretions which the historian's labor has brought to light. But Dr. McGiffert, as we have seen, cannot resist the temptation so far to desert this role of pure historian as to tell us on what such an estimation must turn. It must not turn, he tells us, on the question of the originality of this element or that in the Christian system, but solely on its ideal harmony with the Christian spirit. Doubtless, the "theologian" who comes after him, however, along with the whole body of Christian people, may be trusted to disagree with him in this pronouncement. It is the Christianity of Christ and His apostles alone that they will care to profess; and they will thank the historian for tracing out the transformations of Christianity, chiefly because his work will enable them to recover for their souls the Christianitywhich Christ and His apostles taught.

Dr. McGiffert devotes his Inaugural Address to the discussion of a single one of these "transformations" of Christianity, the one which he believes to be the "most vital and far-reaching transformation that Christianity has ever undergone," the "transformation of the primitive into the Catholic Church" (p. 18). This transformation, which was "practically complete before the end of the second century of the Church's life," was so radical that it has "done more than anything else to conceal Christianity's original form and to obscure its true character"; and it has been so powerful and far-reaching in its influence that "the entire Christian Church still feels" the effects of it. In fact, in Dr. McGiffert's view, it gave to the greater portion of the Church what has proved to be its permanent form. In it the spirit of primitive Christianity permanently disappeared (p. 28), and the spirit which still rules the Catholic Church permanently entered. The Catholic Church is still living in the period inaugurated then (p. 40), the Greek and Roman Churches being but localizations of the one Church which had existed in undivided form for some centuries before their separation.

Since this great "transformation" of the primitive into the Catholic Church, therefore, there have been no "transformations" of Christianity. There have been changes. And these later changes have often been such as to "impress the casual observer more forcibly, and seem to him more worthy of notice," than this great fundamental transformation itself. He will think of "the cessation of persecution with the accession of Constantine, and the subsequent union of Church and State; the preaching of Christianity to the barbarians of western and northern Europe; the development of the Greek patriarchate and of the Roman papacy; the formation of the elaborate liturgies of the eastern and western Churches; the rise of saint and image worship, of the confessional and of the mass; the growth of monasticism, which began with renouncing the world and ended with subjugating it; the development of Nicene trinitarianism, of the Chalcedonian Christology, of the Augustinian anthropology and of the Anselmic theory of the atonement" (pp. 18-19). And as he thinks of these, he may think them "of greater historical significance than any changes which took place during the first two centuries." But he will be mistaken. The transformation of the primitive into the Catholic Church, which took place in the course of the second century, was a far more fundamental change than any of these subsequent changes, or than them all taken together.

Before this great transformation, it was the free spirit of primitive Christianity that reigned; after it, the Church was a completely secularized institution. For the secularization of the Church "was not due, as has been so widely thought, to the favors shown the Church by the Emperor Constantine, or to the ultimate union of Church and State. The Church was in principle secularized as completely as it ever was long before the birth of Constantine. The union of Church and State was but a ratification of a process already complete, and is itself of minor significance" (p. 38). Of all subsequent movements only that one which we know as the Reformation was sufficiently radical to promise a new "transformation." This movement was in essence a revival of the spirit of primitive Christianity, and it did open a new epoch in the Church, so far as it produced its effects. But unfortunately Protestantism has affected only a part, and that the smaller part, of the Church. The Church at large is still living in the epoch which was inaugurated by the great "transformation" which took place in the second century.

If, then, we speak of the "transformations" of Christianity we must have our eye fixed upon changes which took place before the great transformation that gave birth to the Catholic Church - changes greater and more radical than any that have occurred subsequent to that event. In the days of the Church's strenuous youth, it rapidly passed through a series of "transformations" of fundamental importance, much, we suppose, as the stages of babyhood, childhood, boyhood, youth, and manhood are all run through in some twenty restless years, to be followed by an extended period of unchanged manhood for the better part of a century. If we understand Dr. McGiffert, he would count, including the Reformation, some four such transformations in all, three of which were suffered by Christianity during the first two centuries of its existence. In other words, by the time that two hundred years had rolled over it the introduction of alien ideas had three times fundamentally transformed the gospel of Christ. In quick succession there were presented to the world each largely effacing its predecessor, first the Gospel of Love, which Christ preached; then the Gospel of Holiness, which ruled in the primitive Church; then the Gospel of Knowledge, announced by the Greek spirit, not so much converted by, as converting, the Church; and finally, the Gospel of Authority, the proud self-assertion of the Catholic Church. Last of all, after ages of submission, the primitive spirit once more rises in what we call Protestantism, and revolting against authority proclaims anew the Gospel of Individualistic Freedom.

Let us look a little more closely at Dr. McGiffert's conceptions of these several "transformations."

1. Christ's Christianity "was, above all, ethical; the Sermon on the Mount strikes its key-note." According to Christ, "the active principle of love for God and man . . . constituted the sum of all religion" (p. 24). Christ came, in other words, not teaching a dogma, but setting an example of a life of perfect love; proclaiming the Kingdom of God, founded on the fundamental principle of love for God and man; and announcing the law of the Kingdom in such language as that preserved for us in the Sermon on the Mount. It was His example of holy love which reveals God to the world as Father; and all the emphasis of His teaching was laid on the principle of love.

2. But Christianity extended; and, as it grew, it changed its environment from the Jewish to the Gentile world. This change induced in it "certain modifications, which were of permanent significance" (p. 21). These modifications centered in a change of emphasis of fundamental importance, by which, "in consequence of the conception of the immediate and constant presence of the Holy Spirit, and in opposition to the moral corruptness of the age, the element of personal holiness or purity naturally came more and more to the front, and increasingly obscured the fundamental principle of Christ" (p. 24). This is the Christianity of the primitive Church, or the Church of the apostles, though the latter name is the less descriptive one, inasmuch as the death of the apostles and the close of the apostolic age introduced no change of spirit, but the Church of the first half of the second century remained in principle the same Church as that of the last half of the first century.

When Dr. McGiffert speaks of the consequent obscuration of "the fundamental principle of Christ" as "increasing," he seems to refer to the effect of the introduction into the Church, early in the second century, of the educated classes of society. Wherever the influence of Stoicism predominated among these, they readily assimilated with the spirit which already characterized the primitive Church. For with the Stoics "the ethical element came to the front, and religion lost its independent significance, having no other value than to promote virtue by supplying it with a divine basis and sanction." This tendency, we are told, "was in entire harmony with that of the Hebrew mind and of early Christianity in general" (p. 25). Primitive Christianity, therefore, was simply an ethical system with a changed ethical ideal from that of Christ - laying the emphasis on holiness rather than on love. It was, in a word, a "Society for Ethical Culture," with a background of monotheism, and looking to Jesus as its founder and example. "It is true that, from the beginning, belief in one God and in Jesus Christ was demanded of all converts, but such belief was commonly taken for granted - the formula of baptism itself implied it - and all the emphasis was laid upon the ethical element" (p. 31).

3. With the introduction of the educated classes into the Church, however, another class of philosophers came in besides the Stoics - a class which brought in a speculative tendency grounded in Platonism, and which began to lay stress on knowledge. Christianity seemed to these thinkers only a revelation; and accordingly they busied themselves at once with its rational investigation and elucidation. Here appeared the first Christian theologians, and they gave the Church, for the first time, a "theology." In their hands arose the first Christian creeds; through their work Christianity became for the first time a system of belief. The transformation of Christianity which they wrought did not come without throes and conflicts. Nevertheless, so far as this it did come; and its coming is marked later on by the approval and adoption by the Church of "the speculative theology of the great fathers and doctors." In this sense "the spirit of Gnosticism . . . lived on and finally won a permanent place within the Church" (pp. 27, 28). Here is a transformation as great as it is possible to conceive: the "Society for Ethical Culture" becomes an institution for the propagation of a body of truth.

4. But the temporary dualistic form in which the speculative spirit first entered the Church could not, and did not, find acceptance. And "it was in the effort to repudiate it that steps were taken which resulted" in that momentous transformation, to the description of which Dr. McGiffert gives his Address - the transformation into the Catholic Church. These efforts to repudiate Gnosticism involved an appeal to authority, and the essence of this great transformation consists, therefore, in the substitution of the idea of external authority for the individualistic spirit of earlier Christianity. "The spirit of Catholicism . . . means submission to an external authority in matters both of faith and of practice, and dependence upon an external source for all needed spiritual supplies" (p. 21).

Three steps are counted in this transformation: "First, the recognition of the teaching of the Apostles as the exclusive standard and norm of Christian truth; second, the confinement to a specific office (viz., the Catholic office of bishop) of the power to determine what is the teaching of the Apostles; and third, the designation of a specific institution (viz., the Catholic Church) as the sole channel of divine grace" (p. 29). When the transformation was complete, therefore, the whole Catholic machinery of "external authority" had been invented, and the last vestige of spiritual freedom had been crushed out. But its earlier stages included the invention of the very first and simplest forms of "external authority" to which Christians bowed, the first recognition of the authority of the apostles as teachers, and the rise of the very conception of an apostolical Scripture canon. The greatness of the transformation that is asserted can be properly estimated only by remembering that it thus includes, not only the completion of the full Catholic system, but, at the other extreme, the very earliest conception of a Christian "external authority" at all. Before this change, Christians had no external law; by virtue of the Holy Spirit dwelling in them, each was a law unto himself. The change consisted in the finding of an external Christian authority. This was found first in the teaching of the apostles, either as written in their extant books (and hence arose the idea of a New Testament), or as formulated in clear, succinct statements (and hence arose the idea of arule of faith, and of creeds). That it was found afterwards in the bishop, considered as the living representative of the apostles, and still later in the organized Church as the institute of salvation, constitutes only a minor matter. The finding of an "external authority" at all was the main thing, and constituted a tremendous transformation in the spirit and the nature of Christianity. This great transformation took place in the course of the second century. Before that there was no external Christian authority at all.

5. It was only after ages of submission to external authority that a partial revival of the individualistic spirit of primitive Christianity arose in the Protestant Reformation. By the Protestants "the Catholic principle was definitely rejected" (p. 40); "but elements of Catholicism were retained which materially modified the forms of that spirit's [the revived spirit of primitive Christianity] expression, and which have served to make the Protestant a different thing from the primitive Church" (p. 42). In so far as Protestantism restored to the individual his spiritual rights, and "made the Holy Spirit, which voices itself both in the teaching of the Apostles and in the enlightened Christian consciousness of true believers, the only source and standard of spiritual truth," it is a revival of the spirit of primitive Christianity. But in so far as it did not repudiate but "retained the Catholic conception of an apostolic Scripture canon - a conception which the primitive Church had entirely lacked," it remains in bondage to the Catholic conception of "external authority." The true statement of the Protestant position is not, then, "That the word of God, contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments . . . is the sole and ultimate authority for Christian truth." That is Catholic. But it is, "That the Spirit of God is the sole and ultimate authority for Christian truth - the Spirit of God who spoke through the Apostles and who still speaks to his people" (p. 43). No doubt the voice of the Spirit must always accord with itself, and we may, therefore, allow that the genuine teaching of the apostles is also true; for they, too, had the Spirit. But the true Protestant spirit finds "authority" in the Holy Ghost alone; and He speaks in the hearts of Christians to-day as truly as He ever did to the apostles. It cannot, then, come under bondage to the "external authority" of the apostolic teaching. In a word, the specific Quaker position is the only true Protestant one.

Now there is much that occurs to us to say of this scheme of the "transformations" of Christianity which Dr. McGiffert presents. That in the course of the ages Christianity did undergo very real "transformations" there is, of course, no reason to deny. And no Protestant will doubt that, of these, the most complete and the most destructive to the conceptions of primitive Christianity was that great transformation which gave the world the Catholic Church, with its claim to all the authority of heaven for the execution of its will. But it is another question whether Dr. McGiffert's characterization of the several "transformations" which he thinks Christianity has undergone - or even his characterization of that great "transformation" alone which produced the Catholic Church - is just and accordant with the facts. Had we space at our disposal we think we could show that it is not, in a single instance. It can be shown that Jesus did much more than introduce into the world a new ethical ideal, founded on the active principle of love. A whole dogmatic system underlies and is presupposed in even the "Sermon on the Mount"; and Jesus represented Himself continuously as the bearer of a revelation of truth. It can be shown that the primitive Church - the Church of the apostles - was something far other and more than a "Society for Ethical Culture." A complete system of doctrinal truth was authoritatively taught it by the apostles, as the basis of allethical endeavor. It can be shown that "the Catholic Church" was not the inventor of "external authority," the first stage in the development of the Church to assign "authority" to the teaching of the apostles, and the first to frame the conception of an apostolic Scripture canon. The authority of the apostolic teaching and of the apostolic canon was fully recognized from the beginning, and constituted, indeed, the very corner-stone of the fabric of the Church. It can be shown, finally, that Protestantism is not Quakerism; and that the Protestant principle does not coordinate "the teaching of the Apostles" and "the enlightened Christian consciousness of true believers," as co-sources of equal rank of the knowledge of God's truth and will; but appeals to the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scriptures as the Supreme Judge in all matters of religious truth. But these are obvious matters, and may be safely left without formal proof.

It will be more instructive to permit our attention to rest for a moment on some of the effects of Dr. McGiffert's teachings. Its effect upon our estimate of and interest in the apostolic writings and teachings - our "New Testament Scriptures" in a word - is illustrated in an enlightening manner by a remark of Dr. McGiffert's own. He is pointing out the "stupendous significance" of the invention, by the second century Church, of the conception of an apostolic Scripture canon. He remarks upon what he judges "pernicious" in its results; mainly this, that men are led to think that they must have apostolic authority for every element of the Christian system. This he offsets by pointing out an advantage we have received from the change of attitude towards the apostles. "To it is largely due, on the other hand," he says, "much of the knowledge of the apostolic age which we possess, for had the original conception of continuing divine revelations been retained, there would have seemed little reason for preserving apostolic writings and traditions" (p. 33). Just so. And if this conception, which Dr. McGiffert thinks the original one, should be now "revived," will there not seem now as little reason to preserve and study the apostolic writings? On Dr. McGiffert's notion of a continuous, direct access of every believer to the revealing Spirit for all needed truth, of a growing revelation which has left the Biblical revelation in the rear, so that it is a "pernicious notion" that we must have its authority for all the elements of our Christian system, why should we bother ourselves with those old and outworn writings of the apostles? They are useless in the presence of the Spirit in our hearts; nay, they may (possibly have) become even Nehushtan (II Kings xviii. 4). So opposite are his principles to the true Protestant principle, that the most precious possession of Protestantism, the Bible, could not be deemed other than a clog upon the free operation of the Spirit of God, were his views to prevail.

It is interesting to ask, further, why Dr. McGiffert makes so much of "primitive" and "original" Christianity. All the early "transformations" of original Christianity are represented by him as evils, and Protestantism is a good only because it partly restores, and only so far as it restores, "primitive Christianity." But, on his principles, what is "primitive Christianity" to us? Have we not the Spirit as truly as those old believers, including the apostles? And are not the revelations of the Spirit to the Church progressive, "as truth may be needed," so that it "is a pernicious notion that apostolic authority is necessary for every element of the Christian system"? When we turn our eyes back longingly to the primitive Church, are we not deserting the principle of spiritual independence, and betraying a craving for apostolic authority lingering in our breast? Ought we not to go to the Spirit in our hearts instead of to the "primitive Church," or to the apostles, or to Christ Himself, for our knowledge of the truth, as well as for our encouragement in embracing it, and for our support and stay in proclaiming and defending it? To look back, thus, to the past, is it not to hanker after the leeks and onions of Egypt?

We are told that the whole conception of authority in religion is unprimitive and the invention of the second century, in the effort of the Church to conquer its temporary heresies. If we wish to be "primitive," if we desire to be followers of the apostles, we must cast off all "external authority," and especially must we cast off the fancy that the teaching of the apostles is authority. But why should we wish to be "primitive," or desire to be followers of the apostles? It can only be because, in feeling after the authority we have lost, we instinctively look to them as authoritative teachers whom we can trust. We cannot question the truth of their teaching (p. 29). But in matters of truth, authority consists precisely in the possession of unquestionable truth. How can we fail, then, to recognize and appeal to the authority of this unquestionable truth taught by the apostles, as the standard to which all so-called teachings of the Spirit in the heart shall be conformed? According to Professor McGiffert, however, such an appeal to the authority of the apostles is itself unapostolic. To go back to the apostles is to renounce the authority of the apostles; it is to renounce every "external authority," for they knew nothing of an "external authority," and to submit everything to the internal authority of the Holy Spirit, who speaks in every Christian's heart. This is what the apostles teach us. Is not this to cut the limb off on which he is sitting? He appeals to the authority of the apostles in order to destroy the authority of the apostles. This seems to us a most illogical proceeding. It appears to us that we ought either to renounce all appeal to authority, and cast ourselves wholly on the Holy Spirit in the heart as the sole revealer of truth, or else, making our appeal to the authority of the apostles, roundly to accept their authority as supreme.

To this, indeed, it must come. We cannot have two supreme standards. Either the Holy Spirit in the heart is the norm of truth and the deliverances of the apostles must be subjected to what we consider His deliverances (and then we have Mysticism cooling down into Rationalism), or else the apostolic revelation is the norm of truth, and the fancied deliverances of the Spirit in our heart must be subjected to the apostolic declarations (and then we have Protestantism). There can be no doubt which view is Confessional. The Westminster Confession (i. 10), for example, tells us distinctly that the Supreme Judge is the Holy Spirit speaking in Scripture and that all private judgments are to be subject to it. There can be as little doubt which is apostolic. The Apostle Paul, for example, demands that the reality of all claims to be led by the Spirit shall be tested by their recognition of his claim to speak authoritatively the word of God (I Cor. xiv. 37). Nor can there be much doubt which is rational. Is it still asked: What difference does it make what the Apostle Paul says, if we have the revealing Spirit as truly as he had it? This much, at any rate, we must reply: If his words were really not authoritative they were not even true, for he asserts them to be authoritative. And if the words of Paul and his fellow apostles were not true, we do not even know whether there be a Holy Spirit. It is on the authority of the New Testament alone that we know of the existence of a Holy Spirit, or of His indwelling in the hearts of Christians; that we are justified in interpreting inward aspiration as His leading. If their authority cannot be trusted we have no Holy Spirit. After all, we must build on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus Himself being our chief corner-stone, or we build on the sand.

SECOND ARTICLE

In the first part of this paper we undertook to give some general account of the new historical rationalism which is being now introduced to the American churches by certain enthusiastic pupils of Adolph Harnack; and then, for its better elucidation, began a somewhat fuller exposition of one or two of the more fundamental positions assumed by Dr. A. C. McGiffert in his Inaugural Address, in his advocacy of it. We pointed out in that section of our paper Dr. McGiffert's conception of Christianity as a development, and gave some account of the "transformations" which he conceives Christianity to have undergone since its origination by Christ. The most important of these "transformations" he represents, certainly with the best of right from his point of view, to be that from the primitive to the Catholic Church, to the better understanding of which his Address is devoted. For our better estimation of the significance of his teaching here, we should next consider more closely:

V. DR. MCGIFFERT'S THEORY OF THE PRIMITIVE CHURCH

One of the most striking passages in Dr. McGiffert's Inaugural Address is that in which he draws a picture of "primitive Christianity" as it is conceived by him, preliminary to expounding what he calls the momentous "transformation of the primitive into the Catholic Church, of the Church of the Apostles into that of the old Catholic fathers" (p. 19). That important changes did take place in the spirit, teaching, and organization of the Church during the first two centuries of its life is, as we have said, of course, undoubted. Whether these changes were, however, of the nature which Dr. McGiffert represents them to have been is a different matter, and depends very largely upon the truth of his picture of "primitive Christianity." We desire now to look for a moment at this picture.

He sums up his conception of "primitive Christianity" in the brief formula: "The spirit of primitive Christianity is the spirit of religious individualism, based upon the felt presence of the Holy Ghost" (p. 19). There are combined in this statement the recognition of a fundamental truth of the first importance and the assertion of a fundamental error of the utmost seriousness. The truth is, that all vital Christianity was conceived by the apostles and their first converts as the product of the Holy Spirit working upon the hearts of men. The error is, that the result of this conception was "religious individualism" in Dr. McGiffert's sense, that is, in the sense that each individual Christian felt and asserted himself to be, by virtue of his possession of the Spirit, a law unto himself, independent of the objective revelation of God's will through the apostles, of the objective means of grace provided in the ordinances of the Church, and of the objective discipline exercised by the organized Christian societies; which three things Dr. McGiffert brings together under the somewhat contemptuous designation of "external authority." The diligent reader of those documents of "primitive Christianity," which we call the New Testament, will scarcely need to be told that the effect of the work of the Holy Spirit upon the hearts of Christians is represented in them to be to draw and to bind Christians to these "external authorities," not to array them against them.

It is impossible to exaggerate the emphasis which is placed, in these primitive documents, upon the presence of the Holy Spirit in the hearts of believers as the indispensable condition of their becoming or remaining Christians. They were Christians by virtue of their new relation to Christ. Christ was preached to them, and that as crucified; the truth concerning Him was made known to them, and accepted by them. They were Christians because they accepted Him as their Prophet, Priest, and King. But no man could say Jesus is Lord but in the Holy Spirit. It was only by the work of the Holy Spirit, therefore, that Christians were made Christians, and He remained the immanent source of all spiritual life. It was this feature of the new covenant which had engrossed the attention of Joel when he foresaw the glories that should come. It was this great promise that the dying Master had presented as the comfort of His people. It was by the visible and audible descent of the Spirit that the Church was constituted on that first great Pentecost. It was by receiving the Spirit that men became Christians, in the Spirit that they were baptized into one body, by His presence within them that they were made the sons of God, and by His leading that they were enabled to cherish the filial spirit. Christians were taught to look to the Spirit as the source of every impulse to good and of every power to good. In Him alone was the inspiration, the strength, the sphere of the Christian's whole life.

The presence of the Spirit of God in the apostolic Church was, moreover, manifested not merely by the spiritual graces of Christians, of every one of which He was the sole author, but also in a great variety of miraculous gifts. It is no exaggeration to say that the apostolic Church was a miraculous Church. It is not easy to overestimate the supernatural character of either our Lord's ministry or the apostolic Church. When the Son of God came to earth, He drew heaven with Him. The signs which accompanied His ministry were but the trailing cloud of glory which He brought from heaven, which is His home. His own divine power, by which He began to found His Church, He continued in the apostles whom He had chosen to complete this great work; although their use of it, as was fitting, appears to have been more sporadic than His own. And they transmitted it, as a part of their own miracle-working and the crowning sign of their divine commission, to others, in the form of what the New Testament calls "spiritual gifts," that is, extraordinary capacities produced in the primitive communions by direct gift of the Holy Ghost. The number, variety, and diffusion of these "spiritual gifts" are, perhaps, quite commonly underestimated. The classical passage concerning them (I Cor. xii.-xiv.) only brings before us a chance picture of divine worship in an apostolical church; it is the ordinary church service of the time, and we have no reason to suppose that essentially the same scenes would not be witnessed in any one of the many congregations planted by the apostles in the length and breadth of the world. The exception would be a church without, not a church with, miraculous gifts. Everywhere the apostolic Church was marked out among men as itself a gift from God, by manifesting its possession of the Spirit through appropriate works of the Spirit: miracles of healings and power, miracles of knowledge and speech. The apostolic Church was characteristically a miraculous Church.

In such circumstances, it would seem very difficult to exaggerate the supernatural claims of the "primitive Church." But Dr. McGiffert has managed to do so. How he has managed to do so, and with what serious consequences to the fundamental bases of our religion, it will now be our duty to point out.

1. He exaggerates the supernatural character of the apostolic Church, in the first place, by representing the enjoyment of the "spiritual gifts" in it as absolutely universal. This is the constant assumption of the Address, and is expressed in such statements as this: "It was the universal conviction of the primitive Church that every Christian believer enjoys the immediate presence of the Holy Spirit. . . . The presence of the Spirit . . . meant the power to work miracles, to speak with tongues, to utter prophecies" (p. 19). "The consciousness of the possession of supernatural gifts" is made, accordingly, the characteristic of the primitive Christian.

But, widespread as the supernatural gifts were in the apostolical Church, they were not universal. They were the characteristic of the apostolical Church, not of the primitive Christian. The circumstances attending the conversion of the Samaritans are recorded for us, in the eighth chapter of Acts, apparently for the very purpose of teaching us this. The first converts were all brought into the Church by the apostles, and the primitive Christians themselves were, it appears, in danger of supposing that the possession of miraculous gifts was the mark of a Christian. Therefore, it was ordered that the conversion of the Samaritans should take place through non-apostolic preaching, that all men might learn (and Simon among them) that "it was through the laying on of the hands of the Apostles that the Spirit was given." In a word, the miraculous gifts are, in the New Testament, made one of the "signs of an Apostle." Where he conveyed them they existed; where he did not convey them they did not exist. In every case where there is record of them they are connected with apostles; usually they are conferred by the actual laying on of the apostles' hands. In no recorded instance are they conferred by the laying on of the hands of one not an apostle. In fine, the supernatural gifts of the apostolic Church are attestations of the apostles' commission and authority. By detaching them from the apostles, and representing them as the possession of the primitive Christian as such, Dr. McGiffert depreciates the apostles relatively to other Christians, and assimilates Christians as such to the apostles. He can gain no authority for this from the New Testament record.

2. The seriousness of this error is exhibited so soon as we note the stress which Dr. McGiffert lays, among the supernatural gifts, on the special gift of revelation as the universal possession of primitive Christians. This, again, is the constant assumption of the Address, and comes to expression in such statements as this: "Christian believers had . . . from the beginning . . . believed themselves in immediate contact with the Holy Spirit and had looked chiefly and directly to him for revelations of truth, as such truth might be needed" (p. 33). Accordingly, we are told that the original conception was that of continuing divine revelations; and the "communion with God through the Holy Ghost," enjoyed by the primitive Christians, is spoken of as involving the reception of "revelations immediately from him" (p. 21); and this is sharply emphasized by contrasting it with "the submission to an external authority in matters both of faith and of practice," which characterized later times. In a word, Dr. McGiffert teaches that the primitive Christian as such, by virtue of his communion with God through the immediate presence of the Holy Spirit within him, needed no source of knowledge of God's truth and will external to himself: "The Holy Spirit was in the Church, imparting all needed truth and light" (p. 29), and spoke as truly to the other Christians as to the apostles themselves.

Certainly, however, this is not the state of affairs reflected in those documents of the primitive Church gathered into our New Testament. In them the gifts of prophecy, interpretation, revelation, do not appear as the universal possession of Christians as such. They are expressly confined to some, to whom the Spirit has imparted them as He distributes His gifts severally to whom He will. In them, the authority over all Christians of the apostolic declarations of truth and duty is expressly and reiteratingly affirmed, and is based upon the possession of the Spirit by the apostles in a sense in which He was not common to all believers. In them, so far from the apostolic word being subjected to the test of the Spirit in the hearts of all Christians, it is made the test of their possession of the Spirit. In a word, in them the "external authority" of the revelation of truth and duty through the apostles is made supreme; and the recognition of it as supreme is made the test of the presence of the Spirit in the heart of others (I Cor. xiv. 37). Neglecting the whole body of apostolic assertion of authority, and the proof of the acceptance of that authority by the whole body of Christians which pervades the New Testament, Dr. McGiffert represents the common gift of the Holy Spirit to Christians as constituting every Christian a law to himself, and so depreciates the apostles and the apostolic word relatively to other Christians, and assimilates Christians as such to the apostles. He can obtain no warrant for this from the New Testament.

3. The seriousness of this error is still further increased by the circumstance that Dr. McGiffert extends what we may call the supernatural age of Christianity, or what a writer of the same school of thought with himself calls "the Spirit-permeated community," far beyond the limits of the apostolic period. He expressly tells us that no change of spirit took place synchronously "with the passage of Christianity from the Jewish to the Gentile world," nor yet synchronously "with the death of the Apostles and the close of the apostolic age" (pp. 21, 22). "The Church of the first half of the second century," he tells us, "believed itself to be just as truly under the immediate control of the Spirit as the apostolic Church. There was the same consciousness of the possession of supernatural gifts, especially of the gift of prophecy. . . . No line, in fact, was drawn between their own age and that of the Apostles by the Christians of the early second century. They were conscious of no loss, either of light or of power" (p. 22). "The only authority which was recognized," we are told again, "was the Holy Spirit, and he was supposed to speak to Christians of the second century as truly as he had ever spoken through the Apostles" (p. 33). Accordingly, we are told that it is only on a priori or dogmatic grounds, not on historical ones that a line can be drawn between the apostolic and postapostolic ages, so as to "emphasize the supernatural character of the former as distinguished from the latter" (p. 22).

This is again, however, certainly not the impression which the contemporary records make on the reader. Those records do draw the line very sharply between the apostles and any leaders, however great, of the second century Church. To the apostles alone, the Christians of this age conceived, did Jesus give "authority over the gospel," as Barnabas phrases it.8 They alone were conceived of as in such a sense the mouthpieces of Christ that Ignatius, for example, could say that "the Lord did nothing without the Father, either by Himself or by the apostles."9 It does not mark the personal humility of the men, but the recognized proprieties of the case, when Polycarp, for instance, wrote to the Philippians: "These things, brethren, write I unto you . . . because you invited me; for neither am I, nor is anyone like unto me, able to follow the wisdom of the blessed and glorious Paul";10 or when Ignatius wrote to the Romans: "I do not enjoin you as Peter and Paul did; they were apostles, I am a convict."11 From the beginning, therefore, the writings of the apostles are appealed to by name, quoted as "Scripture" along with, and with equal respect with, the Old Testament, and bowed to with reverence and submission. No one apparently dreamed of claiming that equality with the apostles which Dr. McGiffert ascribes to every Christian, as a channel of knowledge concerning divine things; everybody submitted to the "external authority" of their writings.

Nor do these records permit us to believe that the supernatural gifts extended into the second century in an unbroken stream. Who can fail to feel the gulf that yawns between the clear, detailed, and precise allusions to these gifts that meet us in the New Testament, and the vague and general allusions to them which alone are found in the authentic literature of the second century? As was long ago pointed out triumphantly by Conyers Middleton, the early second century is almost bare of allusions to contemporary supernatural gifts. The apostolical Fathers contain no clear and certain allusions to them. And so characteristic of the age is this sobriety of claim, that the apparently miraculous occurrences recorded as attending the martyrdom of Polycarp, in the letter of the church of Smyrna, are an acknowledged bar to the admission of the genuineness of the document; and it is only on purifying the record of them, some as interpolations, some as misinterpretations, that Dr. Lightfoot, for example, thought himself warranted in assigning to it as early a date as A. D. 155. When references to supernatural gifts occur, as in Justin and Irenaeus, they are couched in general terms, and suggest rather a general knowledge that such gifts had been common in the Church than specific acquaintance with them as ordinary occurrences of the time. The whole evidence in the matter, in a word, is just what we should expect if these gifts were conferred by the apostles, and gradually died out with the generation which had been brought to Christ by their preaching. The copious stories of supernatural occurrences in writings of the third and later centuries have their roots, not in the authentic literature of the second century, but in the apocryphal Gospels and Acts. Dr. McGiffert can obtain no warrant from the contemporary records for his assimilation of the Christians of the early second century to the apostles, and his consequent depreciation of the apostles, both in their personal authority and in the authority of their written word, relatively to the Spirit-led Christian, as such.

4. The whole effect, and, we ought, perhaps, also to say the whole purpose, of the speculatively reconstructed picture of "primitive Christianity" which Dr. McGiffert gives us, is to destroy the supreme authority of the New Testament in the Church as the source and norm of truth and duty, and to reduce Christianity to a form of mystical subjectivism.

Dr. McGiffert admits, indeed, inconsistently with his fundamental conception but consistently with historical fact, that "from the very beginning, the Jewish Scriptures, to which Christ and his Apostles had so frequently appealed, had been appropriated by the Christian Church" (p. 28), although not, possibly, in their native sense. He admits, also, that the truth of apostolic teaching was unquestioned, and that "the Apostles were universally recognized as the divinely commissioned and inspired founders of the Church" (p. 29); and because they were thus looked upon, "their teaching was . . . everywhere regarded as a source from which might be gained a knowledge of divine truth" (p. 32).

But he very justly points out that thus to look upon the teaching of the apostles as one of the sources from which a knowledge of truth may be obtained is a "very different thing from making the teaching of the Apostles the sole standard of truth," and "ascribing to their teaching exclusive normative authority" (pp. 32-33). Accordingly, he is able to tell us that "the primitive Church had entirely lacked" "the Catholic conception of an apostolic Scripture canon" (p. 42); that the Church attained the conception of an authoritative "apostolic Scripture canon" only deep in the second century and as a piece of borrowed goods from Gnostic heresy; that the early Church needed no New Testament, "especially since the Holy Spirit was in the Church imparting all needed truth and light" (p. 29); and accordingly that "the only authority which was recognized was the Holy Spirit, and he was supposed to speak to Christians of the second century as truly as he had ever spoken through the Apostles" (p. 33).

The ideas thus attributed to the "primitive Church" are the ideas of Dr. McGiffert; and therefore he tells us that the Protestant churches do not speak the truth when they make "the word of God, contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments," "the sole and ultimate authority for Christian truth" (p. 43), since the Spirit of God is this sole and ultimate authority - as He speaks still to His people as well as formerly through His apostles (p. 43). He tells us, therefore, plainly, that the Holy Spirit still reveals Himself to the members of the several churches "if they keep themselves in touch with him, as truly as to members of the primitive Church" (p. 39), and that is, as we have seen, "as truly as he had ever spoken through the Apostles" (p. 33).

Thus the upshot of Dr. McGiffert's speculative reconstruction of the primitive Church is to set aside the authority of the New Testament altogether, and to enthrone in its place the supreme authority of an "inner light." This is most excellent Quaker teaching, but it is a direct onslaught upon the very basis of Reformed, and, indeed, of the whole Protestant, theology. It seems to be incumbent upon us, therefore, to scrutinize with some care, before we bring these observations on Dr. McGiffert's teaching to a close, what he has to say regarding the origin of the New Testament.

VI. DR. MCGIFFERT'S THEORY OF THE ORIGIN OF THE NEW TESTAMENT CANON

The task of Dr. McGiffert's Inaugural Address, as we have seen, is to trace the steps in what he thinks "the most vital and far-reaching transformation that Christianity has ever undergone" - "the transformation of the primitive into the Catholic Church, of the Church of the Apostles into that of the old Catholic fathers" (pp. 18, 19). One of the steps in this "momentous transformation" - a step which is justly spoken of as "of stupendous significance," if it can be made good that it constituted a part of a transformation which took place in the Church of the second century - is represented to be no less a one than this: "the recognition of the teaching of the Apostles as the exclusive standard and norm of Christian truth" (p. 29). In this was included, as one of its chief elements, what may be called, without exaggerating Dr. McGiffert's conception, the invention by the second century Church of the New Testament canon. We must now give some consideration to this astonishing representation.

According to Dr. McGiffert, the primitive Church "entirely lacked" the "conception of an apostolic Scripture canon" (p. 42). Its spirit was in fact wholly alien to such a conception. Its spirit was "a spirit of religious individualism, based upon the felt presence of the Holy Ghost" (p. 19). As all Christians possessed the Spirit, He was "the only authority which was recognized"; and He was supposed to speak to all Christians "as truly as he had ever spoken through the Apostles" (p. 33). The apostles were no doubt "reverenced" as "divinely guided and inspired" (p. 32); they "were universally recognized as the divinely commissioned and inspired founders of the Church" (p. 29); and "their teaching was consequently everywhere regarded as a source from which might be gained a knowledge of divine truth" (p. 32). But we will remember that we are very justly told that "that is a very different thing from making the teaching of the Apostles the sole standard of truth, a very different thing from ascribing to their teaching exclusive normative authority" (pp. 32-33). All Christians were as truly "in immediate contact with the Holy Spirit" as the apostles; to Him directly and not to the apostles they looked "for revelations of truth, as such truth might be needed" (p. 33); and having Him always with them, and having, moreover, along with Him, the Old Testament, they "needed no New Testament" (p. 29).

But Gnosticism arose, and the Church joined in combat with it. In the effort to repudiate the spirit of Gnosticism it was that steps were taken which resulted in the disappearance of that spirit of individualism which was the spirit of the "Church of the Apostles," and the introduction of "the spirit of Catholicism," "which means submission to an external authority in matters both of faith and of practice" (p. 21). Three steps were taken towards this consummation. The first of these was "the recognition of the teaching of the Apostles as the exclusive standard and norm of Christian truth" (p. 29). And in this step were included the formation of a New Testament canon, and the formation of an apostolic rule of faith.

"The Gnostics were the first Christians to have a New Testament." In seeking to commend their bizarre doctrines, they were led to appeal to the authority of the apostles transmitted orally or in writing. "Hence they felt themselves impelled at an early date to form a canon of their own, which should contain the teachings of Christ through his Apostles, which should, in other words, be apostolic" (pp. 29-30). This was a new thing in Christendom. But no one could deny that what the apostles taught was true; the apostles, as well as other Christians, had the Spirit. The Gnostics' appeal to apostolic authority could be met, therefore, only by determining what was truly apostolic. Thus "the Church reached the conception of an authoritative apostolic Scripture canon and of an authoritative apostolic rule of faith" (p. 29). "Thus it was led to gather into one whole all those writings which were commonly regarded as of apostolic origin; in other words, to form an authoritative and exclusive apostolic Scripture canon, which all who wished to be regarded as Christian disciples must acknowledge, and whose teachings they must accept." "The conception of an apostolic Scripture canon had arisen, and the appeal to that canon had been widely made before the close of the second century" (p. 30).

This is the account which Dr. McGiffert gives of the creation of the New Testament canon. It will be seen that it is very comprehensive. It includes an account of the origin of the ascription of "authority" to the apostolic teaching; an account of the rise of the very conception of an apostolic canon of Scripture; an account of the collection into such a canon of the writings "commonly regarded as of apostolic origin"; and an account of the imposition of this body of collected writings upon the Church as its law of faith and conduct. It includes an account, in a word, of the whole "stupendous transformation," from a state of affairs in which every Christian man, by virtue of the Holy Spirit dwelling in him, was a law to himself, and knew no external apostolic authority at all; to a state of affairs when, "under the stress of conflict, they resigned their lofty privileges and made the Apostles the sole recipients (under the new dispensation) of divine communications, and thus their teaching the only source (the Old Testament, of course, excepted) for a knowledge of Christian truth, and the sole standard and norm of such truth" (p. 33). This whole stupendous transformation from beginning to end is included in the course of the second century, that is, belongs to distinctly post-apostolic times. And it was due to the pressure of the Gnostic controversy, and, indeed, was a following by the Church of Gnostic example. In a word, the ascription of any "authority" as teachers to the apostles at all, and the very conception and existence of a New Testament canon, and much more the erection of such a canon as, along with the Old Testament, the exclusive standard of faith and practice, were no part of primitive or apostolical Christianity at all. They were inventions of the second century Church, as expedients the better to meet its difficulties in controversy.

What is to be said of this theory of the formation of the New Testament canon?

1. This is to be said, in the first place: That the cause which is assigned for this stupendous transformation is utterly inadequate to bear its weight.

We are asked to believe that a Church which had hitherto known nothing of apostolic authority, and much less of a canon of authoritative apostolic writings, but had depended wholly upon the living voice of the ever present Holy Spirit speaking to Christians as such, suddenly invented this whole machinery of external authority, solely in order to meet the appeal of the Gnostics to such an external authority. That is to say, in conflict with the Gnostic position, the Church deserted its own entrenched position and went over to the Gnostic position, horse, foot, and dragoons. The Church, we are told, made its sole appeal to the internal authority of the Holy Spirit, speaking in the hearts of living Christians. The Gnostics appealed to the external authority of the apostles, and were the first to do so. If the situation was in any measure like this, the Church was assuredly entitled to meet, and most certainly would have met, this heretical appeal to external authority with the declaration that the Holy Spirit of God which it had was greater than the apostles which the Gnostics claimed to have; and that the living and incorruptible voice of that Spirit in the hearts of Christians was more sure than the dead, corruptible word of the apostles. Yet instead of doing this we are told that the Church weakly submitted to the Gnostic imposition of an external authority upon it, and made its sole appeal to it. This construction is an impossible one. The facts that the Gnostics appealed to apostolic authority, and especially to a body of authoritative apostolic writings as against the Church, and that the Church appealed to apostolic authority and to an apostolic canon as against the Gnostics, do not suggest that the Gnostics were the first to appeal to apostolic teaching and to make a New Testament; but rather prove that the authority of apostolic teaching and of the apostolic writings was already the settled common ground on which all Christians of all names stood.

This is not to be met by saying that just what we have supposed the Church would do in the circumstances assumed was done - by the Montanists. The Montanists were not the Church; but from their first origin were in violent conflict with the Church. Nor did the Montanists represent a revival of the primitive spirit. The main reason for fancying so arises from the exigencies of the theory at present under discussion; and they were certainly not recognized as doing so by the men of their time best qualified to judge of their affiliations. They are uniformly represented as smacking more of Phrygia than of Palestine, more of Cybele than of Christ. Nor yet did they essay to do what in these circumstances we should have expected the Church to do; but something very different indeed. They, too, accepted the external authority of apostles and canon. They themselves rested in this external authority, and did not seek to add to the deposit of truth handed down by it. They claimed only to "develop" the "practical" side of Christianity; and that not by means of a universal teaching of the Spirit, but by means of the sporadic continuance of the specific prophetic office, and by a series of requirements laid by this external authority upon the consciences of men.

Nor is the case met by the remark that the surrender of the Church to the point of view of the Gnostics in this matter of external authority no doubt does presuppose "a partial loss of the original consciousness of the immediate presence of the Holy Spirit" (p. 37). Of course it does; if such an original consciousness ever existed in the sense intended. The point at issue is whether any such "original consciousness," in the sense intended, ever existed. The point urged is that if this consciousness existed it could not but have shown itself in the conflict against Gnosticism. The point yielded is that it must indeed have already been "partially lost." The point claimed is that there is no proof, then, that it ever existed, but every proof that the Gnostics and the Church stood on common ground in their common appeal to "external authority."

2. It is to be said, secondly, that the origin of this stupendous transformation is assigned by this theory to a most unlikely source.

The Gnostics were not just the people whom we can naturally suspect of the invention of the idea of an external apostolic authority. They are known in history as men of speculative intellect, pride of knowledge, rationalistic methods. They are known in history as rejecters of external authorities, not as the creators of them. It is allowed that the Old Testament had from the beginning been accepted by the Church as the authoritative voice of God. The Gnostics repudiated the Jewish Scriptures. Marcion is represented to us, by every contemporary witness, as a man who discarded part of the New Testament canon which had come to his hand; and he certainly mutilated and curtailed the books of his "Apostolicum." To such men as these we can scarcely ascribe the invention of the fiction of an apostolic canon. That they held and appealed to such an "external authority" can be accounted for only on the supposition that this was already the settled position of the Church, which they sought to rationalize and so to reform.

3. It is to be said, thirdly, that to assign the origin of the New Testament canon to the Gnostics is to contradict the whole body of historical testimony which has come down to us as to the relation of the Gnostics to the New Testament canon.

The Fathers, to whose refutation of them we are indebted for well-nigh our whole knowledge of the Gnostics, are unanimous in representing them as proceeding with the church canon as their point of departure, not as first suggesting to the Church the conception of a canon. They differed among themselves, we are told, in their mode of dealing with the Church's canon. Some, like Marcion, used the shears, and boldly cut off from it all that did not suit their purposes; others, like Valentinus, depended on artificial exegesis to conform the teaching of the apostles to their own views. For all alike, however, an authoritative apostolic canon is presupposed, and to all alike this presupposed authoritative apostolic canon constituted an obstacle to their heretical teachings, and accordingly would not have been presupposed by them could it have been avoided.

4. And this leads to saying, fourthly, that this whole theory of the formation of the New Testament canon involves a serious arraignment of the trustworthiness, or, as we should rather say plainly, the truthfulness, of the whole body of the great Church Fathers who ornament the closing years of the second century.

Take such a man, for instance, as Irenaeus. It is positively impossible to believe that anything like the origination of, or any essential change in, the New Testament canon occurred in his lifetime without charging him with conscious falsehood in his witness concerning it. For Irenaeus not only testifies to the existence and estimate as divinely authoritative of the New Testament at the close of his life, but repeatedly asserts that this same New Testament had enjoyed this same authority from the apostles' day. Now, Irenaeus was already a young man when Marcion provided his followers with his mutilated New Testament. He had himself sat as a pupil at the feet of John's pupil, Polycarp, in Asia Minor. He had served the church of Lyons as presbyter and bishop. He had kept in full communication with the churches both of Ephesus and of Rome. And he tells us that so strict had been the Church's watchfulness over its New Testament that not even a single text of it had been corrupted. It avails nothing to say that, nevertheless, many texts had been corrupted. Irenaeus could be mistaken in some things; but in some things he could not be mistaken. If such a thing as the New Testament had been invented in his own day he could not have been ignorant of it. Here the dilemma is stringent: either Irenaeus has borne consciously false witness, or else the Church in Ephesus, in Rome, and in Gaul, already had in the days of Marcion the same New Testament which it is confessed that it had at the close of the century. And practically the same argument might be formed on the testimony of Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, Theophilus of Antioch, or, indeed, the whole body of the church writers of the close of the second century.

5. It is to be said, still further, that the whole theory of the origin of the New Testament canon in post-apostolic circles is inconsistent with the acknowledged position of the Church during this period.

It is acknowledged that from the beginning the Church received the Old Testament at the apostles' hands as the word of God (p. 28). From the beginning, therefore, the Church had an "external authority," and possessed already the idea of a "canon." How could it help adding to this authoritative teaching the writings of the apostles, whom, as is admitted, it "recognized as the divinely commissioned and inspired founders of the Church" (p. 29), and whom it reverenced "as divinely guided and inspired" (p. 32)? The whole dealing of the Church with the heresies of the day betrays the fact that apostolicity and authority were to it synonymous terms. Every step which Dr. McGiffert traces in the opposition to these heresies is an outgrowth of this conception, and is recognized by Dr. McGiffert as an expression of this conception. Apostolicity was indeed the war-cry in all the Church's battles; and yet we are asked to suppose that this was a borrowed war-cry - borrowed from its enemies!

6. Finally, it is to be said that there is quite as much evidence from this whole period of the Church's possession and high estimate of the New Testament, as the nature of the literary remains from the time would warrant us in expecting.

It is nothing to the point to say that we cannot, with full historical right, speak of a New Testament "canon" until deep in the fourth century, since this word was not applied to the New Testament in this sense until then; or that we cannot, with full historical right, speak of a "New Testament" until late in the second century, for not until then was this name applied to it. We are not investigating the history of names, but of things. The term "instrument" which Tertullian applies to the New Testament is just as good a designation of the thing as the term "canon" that Jerome uses. And there was an earlier name for what we call the "New Testament" than that now hoary and sacred title. Over against "The Law and the Prophets," which was the name then given the Old Testament, men had a "Gospel and Apostles," which was the name they gave the New Testament. And as they commonly called the one half of the canon briefly "The Law," so they called the other half for similar reasons "The Gospel." The name still remains in Augustine; it is the common name for the New Testament in the second century. It was clearly already in use in the days of Ignatius, and of the authors of the so-called second epistle of Clement and the epistle to Diognetus. New Testament books are among the "Oracles" in the days of Papias and of the author of II Clement. To Polycarp, Ephesians was already along with Psalms in "the sacred letters." To Barnabas, Matthew was "Scripture"; and indeed, already to I Timothy Luke was as much "Scripture" as Deuteronomy (I Tim. v. 18), and to II Peter Paul's letters as much Scripture as "the other Scriptures" of the Old Testament. Dr. McGiffert gives some hint (p. 27), indeed, that he may deny that I Timothy was a letter of Paul's, or even a product of the first Christian century. Whether he would make II Peter also of post-Gnostic origin, he does not tell us. But too many adjustments of this kind will need to be made to render it "historical" to deny that the Church had an authoritative New Testament from the beginning of its life.

What color of historical ground remains, then, for the asserted "stupendous transformation" in the Church during the second century, by which it acquired not only the actual possession but the very conception of an apostolic Scripture canon?

There is, first of all, this fact: that in the latter part of the second century the evidence that the Church possessed a New Testament canon first becomes copious. But this is not because the Church then first acquired a canon; the evidence is retrospective in its character and force. It is simply because Christian literature of a sort which could bear natural testimony to the fact first then becomes abundant. It is a great historical blunder to confound such an emergence of copious testimony with the historical emergence of the thing testified to.

Then, secondly, there is doubtless this fact: that in its controversies with the Gnostic sects the Church was thrown back upon its New Testament and its authority as before it had never had occasion to be. When the gospel was preached to Jews and Gentiles the simple story was told; and there was no occasion to appeal to books, save in the former case to the prophecies of the Old Testament. When Christianity was defended before Jews or before Gentiles, the common ground of appeal was necessarily restricted to the Old Testament and to reason; and any allusion to Christian books was necessarily only by the way and purely incidental. But when new gospels were preached, then the appeal was necessarily to the authority of the authoritative teachers of the true gospel. There is a sense, then, in which it may be said that, in these controversies, the Church "discovered" its New Testament. It learned its value; it investigated its contents with new zeal and new insight; in the process it strengthened its sense of its preciousness and authority.

Harnack in one place uses phraseology in describing what took place with the New Testament in the second century, which, if we could only be allowed to take it in its strict verbal meaning, would express the exact truth. The transformation, he tells us, must be looked upon as "a change in interest in the Holy Scriptures brought about by the Gnostic and Montanistic conflict." This is just what happened. But this is not what Harnack and his followers demand of us to believe to have happened. They demand that we shall believe that in these controversies the Church created these "Holy Scriptures" of the New Testament. They do so without historical warrant, and in doing so they destroy the New Testament as "Holy Scriptures"; that is, they reduce its authority as "Holy Scriptures" to the authority of the second century Church, which they would have us believe created it " Holy Scripture" in its controversies, and which, indeed, as they would teach us, even created some of the books themselves (e.g. I Timothy) out of which this "Holy Scripture" was constituted.

How, then, are we to conceive the formation of the New Testament canon? After so much said as to how we are not to conceive it, it is but right that before we bring this paper to a close we should try to place clearly before us the actual process of its formation. Let us now essay to do this in the simplest and most primary way.

VII. THE FORMATION OF THE CANON OF THE NEW TESTAMENT

In order to obtain a correct understanding of what is called the formation of the canon of the New Testament, it is necessary to begin by fixing very firmly in our minds one fact, which is obvious enough, and to which attention has been already called, but the importance of which in this connection cannot be overemphasized. That is, that the Christian Church did not require to form for itself the idea of a "canon," or, as we should more commonly call it to-day, of a "Bible" - that is, of a collection of books given of God to be the authoritative rule of faith and practice. It inherited this idea from the Jewish Church, along with the thing itself, the Jewish Scriptures, or the "Canon of the Old Testament." The Church did not grow up by natural law; it was founded. And the authoritative teachers sent forth by Christ to found His Church carried with them as their most precious possession a body of divine Scriptures, which they imposed on the Church that they founded as its code of law. No reader of the New Testament can need proof of this; on every page of that book is spread the evidence that from the very beginning the Old Testament was as cordially recognized as law by the Christian as by the Jew. The Christian Church thus was never without a "Bible" or a "canon."

But the Old Testament books were not the only ones which the apostles (by Christ's own appointment the authoritative founders of the Church) imposed upon the infant churches as their authoritative rule of faith and practice. No more authority dwelt in the prophets of the old covenant than in themselves, the apostles, who had been "made sufficient as ministers of a new covenant"; for (as one of themselves argued) "if that which passeth away was with glory, much more that which remaineth is in glory." Accordingly, not only was the gospel they delivered, in their own estimation, itself a divine revelation, but it was also preached "in the Holy Ghost" (I Pet. i. 12); not merely the matter of it but the very words in which it was clothed were "of the Holy Spirit" (I Cor. ii. 13). Their own commands were, therefore, of divine authority (I Thess. iv. 2), and their writings were the depository of these commands (II Thess. ii. 15). "If any man obeyeth not our word by this epistle," says Paul to one church (II Thess. iii. 14), "note that man, that ye have no company with him." To another he makes it the test of a Spirit-led man to recognize that what he was writing to them was "the commandments of the Lord" (I Cor. xiv. 37). Inevitably, such writings, making so awful a claim on their acceptance, were received by the infant churches as of a quality equal to that of the old "Bible," placed alongside of its older books as an additional part of the one law of God, and read as such in their meetings for worship - a practice which, moreover, was required by the apostles (I Thess. v. 27; Col. iv. 16; Rev. i. 3). In the apprehension, therefore, of the earliest churches, the "Scriptures" were not a closed but an increasing "canon." Such they had been from the beginning, as they gradually grew in number from Moses to Malachi; and such they were to continue as long as there should remain among the churches "men of God who spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost."

We say that this immediate placing of the new books, given the Church under the seal of apostolic authority, among the Scriptures already established as such was inevitable. It is also historically evinced from the very beginning. Thus, the Apostle Peter, writing in A.D. 68, speaks of Paul's numerous letters, not in contrast with the Scriptures, but as among the Scriptures, and in contrast with "the other Scriptures" (II Pet. iii. 16), that is, of course, those of the Old Testament. In like manner, the Apostle Paul combines, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the Book of Deuteronomy and the Gospel of Luke under the common head of "Scripture" (I Tim. v. 18): "For the Scripture saith, 'Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn' [Deut. xxv. 4]; and, 'The laborer is worthy of his hire' [Luke x. 7]." The line of such quotations is never broken in Christian literature. Polycarp12 in A.D. 115 unites the Psalms and Ephesians in exactly similar manner: "In the sacred books, . . . as it is said in these Scriptures, 'Be ye angry and sin not,' and 'Let not the sun go down upon your wrath."' So, a few years later, the so-called second letter of Clement, after quoting Isaiah, adds (chap. 2): "And another Scripture, however, says, 'I came not to call the righteous, but sinners,"' quoting from Matthew, a book which Barnabas (circa 97-106 A.D.) had already adduced as Scripture. After this such quotations are common.

What needs emphasis at present about these facts is that they obviously are not evidences of a gradually heightening estimate of the New Testament books, originally received on a lower level, and just beginning to be tentatively accounted Scripture. They are conclusive evidences, rather, of the estimation of the New Testament books from the very beginning as Scripture, and of their attachment as Scripture to the other Scriptures already in hand. The early Christians did not, then, first form a rival "canon" of "new books" which came only gradually to be accounted as of equal divinity and authority with the "old books"; they received new book after new book from the apostolical circle, as equally "Scripture" with the old books, and added them one by one to the collection of old books as additional Scriptures, until at length the new books thus added were numerous enough to be looked upon as another section of "the Scriptures."

The earliest name given to this new section of Scripture was framed on the model of the name by which what we know as the Old Testament was then known. Just as it was called "The Law and the Prophets and the Psalms" (or "The Hagiographa"), or, more briefly, "The Law and the Prophets," or, even more briefly still, "The Law," so the enlarged Bible was called "The Law and the Prophets, with the Gospels and the Apostles,"13 or, more briefly, "The Law and the Gospel" (so Claudius Apollinaris, Irenaeus); while the new books separately were called "The Gospel and the Apostles," or, most briefly of all, "The Gospel." This earliest name for the new Bible, with all that it involves as to its relation to the old and briefer Bible, is traceable as far back as Ignatius (A.D. 115), who makes use of it repeatedly.14 In one passage he gives us a hint of the controversies which the enlarged Bible of the Christians aroused among the Judaizers: "When I heard some saying," he writes,15 "'Unless I find it in the Old [Books] I will not believe the Gospel,' on my saying, 'It is written,' they answered, 'That is the question.' To me, however, Jesus Christ is the Old [Books]; His cross and death and resurrection, and the faith which is by Him, the undefiled Old [Books], by which I wish, by your prayers, to be justified. The priests, indeed, are good, but the High Priest better," etc. Here Ignatius appeals to the "Gospel" as Scripture, and the Judaizers object, receiving from him the answer, in effect, which Augustine afterwards formulated in the well-known saying that the New Testament lies hidden in the Old, and the Old Testament is first made clear in the New. What we need now to observe, however, is that to Ignatius the New Testament was not a different book from the Old Testament, but part of the one body of Scripture with it; an accretion, so to speak, which had grown upon it.

This is the testimony of all the early witnesses, even of those which speak for the distinctively Jewish-Christian churches. For example, that curious Jewish-Christian writing, "The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs" ("Benjamin," 11), tells us, under the cover of an ex post facto prophecy, that "the work and word" of Paul, that is, confessedly, the Book of Acts and Paul's epistles, "shall be written in the Holy Books," that is, as is understood by all, made a part of the existent Bible. So, even in the Talmud, in a scene intended to ridicule a "bishop" of the first century, he is represented as finding Galatians by "sinking himself deeper" into the same "book" which contained the Law of Moses ("Babl. Shabbath," 116 a and b). The details cannot be entered into here. Let it suffice to say that, from the evidence of the fragments which alone have been preserved to us of the Christian writings of that very early time, it appears that from the beginning of the second century (and that is from the end of the apostolic age) a collection (Ignatius, II Clement) of "New Books" (Ignatius), called the "Gospel and Apostles" (Ignatius, Marcion), was already a part of the "oracles" of God (Polycarp, Papias, II Clement), or "Scriptures" (I Timothy, II Peter, Barnabas, Polycarp, II Clement), or the "Holy Books," or "Bible The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs").

The number of books included in this added body of New Books, at the opening of the second century, cannot, of course, be satisfactorily determined by the evidence of these fragments alone. From them we may learn, however, that the section of it called the "Gospel" included Gospels written by "the apostles and their companions" (Justin), which there is no reason to doubt were our four Gospels now received. The section called "The Apostles" contained the Book of Acts ("The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs") and epistles of Paul, John, Peter, and James. The evidence from various quarters is, indeed, enough to show that the collection in general use contained all the books which we at present receive, with the possible exceptions of Jude, II and III John, and Philemon; and it is more natural to suppose that failure of very early evidence for these brief booklets is due to their insignificant size rather than to their non-acceptance.

It is to be borne in mind, however, that the extent of the collection may have - and, indeed, is historically shown actually to have - varied in different localities. The Bible was circulated only in hand-copies, slowly and painfully made; and an incomplete copy, obtained, say, at Ephesus in A.D. 68, would be likely to remain for many years the Bible of the church to which it was conveyed, and might, indeed, become the parent of other copies, incomplete like itself, and thus the means of providing a whole district with incomplete Bibles. Thus, when we inquire after the history of the New Testament canon, we need to distinguish such questions as these: (1) When was the New Testament canon completed? (2) When did any one church acquire a completed canon? (3) When did the completed canon, the complete Bible, obtain universal circulation and acceptance? (4) On what ground and evidence did the churches with incomplete Bibles accept the remaining books when they were made known to them?

The canon of the New Testament was completed when the last authoritative book was given to any church by the apostles, and that was when John wrote the Apocalypse, about A.D. 98. Whether the church of Ephesus had a completed canon when it received the Apocalypse, or not, would depend on whether there was any epistle, say that of Jude, which had not yet reached it, with authenticating proof of its apostolicity. There is room for historical investigation here. Certainly the whole canon was not universally received by the churches till somewhat later. The Latin Church of the second and third centuries did not quite know what to do with the Epistle to the Hebrews. The Syrian churches for some centuries may have lacked the lesser of the Catholic Epistles and Revelation. But from the time of Irenasus down, the Church at large had the whole canon as we now possess it. And though a section of the Church may not yet have been satisfied of the apostolicity of a certain book, or of certain books, and though afterwards doubts may have arisen in sections of the Church as to the apostolicity of certain books (e.g. of Revelation), yet in no case was it more than a respectable minority of the Church which was slow in receiving, or which came afterwards to doubt, the credentials of any of the books that then, as now, constituted the canon of the New Testament accepted by the Church at large. And in every case the principle on which a book was accepted, or doubts against it laid aside, was the historical tradition of apostolicity.

Let it, however, be clearly understood that it was not exactly apostolic authorship which constituted a book a portion of the "canon." Apostolic authorship was, indeed, early confounded with canonicity. It was doubt as to the apostolic authorship of Hebrews, in the west, and of James and Jude, which seems to underlie the slowness of the inclusion of these books in the "canon" of certain churches. But from the beginning it was not so. The principle of canonicity was not apostolic authorship, but imposition by the apostles as "law." Hence Tertullian's name for the "canon" is "instrumentum," and he speaks of the Old and New Instrument as we would of the Old and New Testament. That the apostles so imposed the Old Testament on the churches which they founded as their "instrument," or "law," or "canon," can be denied by none. And in imposing new books on the same churches, by the same apostolical authority, they did not confine themselves to books of their own composition. It is the Gospel according to Luke, a man who was not an apostle, which Paul parallels in I Tim. v. 18, with Deuteronomy, as equally "Scripture" with it, in the first extant quotation of a New Testament book as Scripture. The Gospels which constituted the first division of the New Books - of "The Gospel and the Apostles" - Justin tells us, were "written by the apostles and their companions." The authority of the apostles, as founders of the Church by divine appointment, was embodied in whatever books they imposed on the Church as law, not merely in those which they themselves had written.

The early churches received, as we receive, into their New Testament all the books historically evinced to them as given by the apostles to the churches as their code of law; and we must not mistake the historical evidences of the slow circulation and authentication of these books over the widely extended Church for evidence of slowness of "canonization" of books by the authority or the taste of the Church itself.

Endnotes:

1. Reprinted from The Presbyterian Quarterly, ix. 1895, pp. 36-67 and 185-210. The sections marked L, III., IV., V., VI., appeared earlier in The Presbyterian Journal, of Philadelphia; the section marked IL, in The Presbyterian Messenger, of Pittsburgh; and the section marked VII, in The Sunday-School World, of Philadelphia. The section marked VII. has been copyrighted by the American Sunday-School Union, and can be had at their house at 1122 Chestnut street, Philadelphia, in tract form.

2. The Academy for October 28, 1893 (aliv. p. 368).

3. H. P. Liddon, "Life of Edward Bouverie Pusey," ii. 1893, p. 489.

4. "Farewell to his Friends and to the Church," 1858, p. 56.

5. "Life and Letters of Adolphe Monod," by one of his daughters, E.T. London, 1885, pp. 357-358.

6. Ibid., p. 224.

7. "Primitive and Catholic Christianity," 1893, p. 16.

8. Ep. 8.

9. "Epistola ad Magnesios," 7.

10. "Ad Philippenses," 3.

11. "Ad Romanos," 4.

12. "Epistola ad Philippenses," 12.

13. So Clement of Alexandria, "Stromata," vi. 11: 88; Tertullian, "De præscriptione hæreticorum," 36.

14. E.g. "Ad Philad.," 5; "Ad Smyrnæos," 7.

15. "Ad Philadelphenses," 8.

Mysticism and Christianity

Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield

Reprinted from The Biblical Review, ii. 1917, pp. 169-191 (published by The Biblical Seminary in New York; copyrighted).

Religion is, shortly, the reaction of the human soul in the presence of God. As God is as much a part of the environment of man as the earth on which he stands, no man can escape from religion any more than he can escape from gravitation. But though every man necessarily reacts to God, men react of course diversely, each according to his nature, or perhaps we would better say, each according to his temperament. Thus, broadly speaking, three main types of religion arise, corresponding to the three main varieties of the activity of the human spirit, intellectual, emotional, and voluntary. According as the intellect, sensibility, or will is dominant in him, each man produces for himself a religion prevailingly of the intellect, sensibility, or active will; and all the religions which men have made for themselves find places somewhere among these three types, as they produce themselves more or less purely, or variously intermingle with one another.

We say advisedly, all the religions which men have made for themselves. For there is an even more fundamental division among religions than that which is supplied by these varieties. This is the division between man-made and God-made religions. Besides the religions which man has made for himself, God has made a religion for man. We call this revealed religion; and the most fundamental division which separates between religions is that which divides revealed religion from unrevealed religions. Of course, we do not mean to deny that there is an element of revelation in all religions. God is a person, and persons are known only as they make themselves known - reveal themselves. The term revelation is used in this distinction, therefore, in a pregnant sense. In the unrevealed religions God is known only as He has revealed Himself in His acts of the creation and government of the world, as every person must reveal himself in his acts if he acts at all. In the one revealed religion God has revealed Himself also in acts of special grace, among which is included the open Word.

There is an element in revealed religion, therefore, which is not found in any unrevealed religion. This is the element of authority. Revealed religion comes to man from without; it is imposed upon him from a source superior to his own spirit. The unrevealed religions, on the other hand, flow from no higher source than the human spirit itself. However much they may differ among themselves in the relative prominence given in each to the functioning of the intellect, sensibility, or will, they have this fundamental thing in common. They are all, in other words, natural religions in contradistinction to the one supernatural religion which God has made.

There is a true sense, then, in which it may be said that the unrevealed religions are "religions of the spirit" and revealed religion is the "religion of authority." Authority is the correlate of revelation, and wherever revelation is - and only where revelation is - is there authority. Just because we do not see in revelation man reaching up lame hands toward God and feeling fumblingly after Him if haply he may find Him, but God graciously reaching strong hands down to man, bringing him help in his need, we see in it a gift from God, not a creation of man's. On the other hand, the characteristic of all unrevealed religions is that they are distinctly man-made. They have no authority to appeal to, they rest solely on the deliverances of the human spirit. As Rudyard Kipling shrewdly makes his "Tommy" declare:

The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood and stone,

'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own.

Naturally it makes no difference in this respect whether it is the rational, emotional, or volitional element in the activities of the human spirit to which appeal is chiefly made. In no case are the foundations sunk deeper than the human spirit itself, and nothing appears in the structure that is raised which the human spirit does not supply. The preponderance of one or another of these activities in the structure does, however, make an immense difference in the aspect of that structure. Mysticism is the name which is given to the particular one of these structures, the predominant place in which is taken by the sensibility. It is characteristic of mysticism that it makes its appeal to the feelings as the sole, or at least as the normative, source of knowledge of divine things. That is to say, it is the religious sentiment which constitutes for it the source of religious knowledge. Of course mystics differ with one another in the consistency with which they apply their principle. And of course they differ with one another in the account they give of this religious sentiment to which they make their appeal. There are, therefore, many varieties of mystics, pure and impure, consistent and inconsistent, naturalistic and supernaturalistic, pantheistic and theistic - even Christian. What is common to them all, and what makes them all mystics, is that they all rest on the religious sentiment as the source of knowledge of divine things.

The great variety of the accounts which mystics give of the feeling to which they make their appeal arises from the very nature of the case. There is a deeper reason for a mystic being "mute" - that is what the name imports - than that he wishes to make a mystery of his discoveries. He is "mute" because, as a mystic, he has nothing to say. When he sinks within himself he finds feelings, not conceptions; his is an emotional, not a conceptional, religion; and feelings, emotions, though not inaudible, are not articulate. As a mystic, he has no conceptional language in which to express what he feels. If he attempts to describe it he must make use of terms derived from the religious or philosophical thought in vogue about him, that is to say, of non-mystical language. His hands may be the hands of Esau, but his voice is the voice of Jacob. The language in which he describes the reality which he finds within him does not in the least indicate, then, what it is; it is merely a concession to the necessity of communicating with the external world or with his own more external self. What he finds within him is just to his apprehension an "unutterable abyss." And Synesius does himself and his fellow mystics no injustice when he declares that "the mystic mind says this and that, gyrating around the unutterable abyss."

On the brink of this abyss the mystic may stand in awe, and, standing in awe upon its brink, he may deify it. Then he calls it indifferently Brahm or Zeus, Allah or the Holy Spirit, according as men about him speak of God. He explains its meaning, in other words, in terms of the conception of the universe which he has brought with him, or, as it is more fashionable now to phrase it, each in accordance with his own world-view. Those who are held in the grasp of a naturalistic conception of the world will naturally speak of the religious feeling of which they have become acutely conscious as only one of the multitudinous natural movements of the human soul, and will seek merely, by a logical analysis of its presuppositions and implications, to draw out its full meaning. Those who are sunk in a pantheistic world-view will speak of its movements as motions of the subliminal consciousness, and will interpret them as the surgings within us of the divine ground of all things, in listening to which they conceive themselves to be sinking beneath the waves that fret the surface of the ocean of being and penetrating to its profounder depths. If, on the other hand, the mystic chances to be a theist, he may look upon the movements of his religious feelings as effects in his soul wrought by the voluntary actions of the God whom he acknowledges; and if he should happen to be a Christian, he may interpret these movements, in accordance with the teachings of the Scriptures, as the leadings of the Holy Spirit or as the manifestations within him of the Christ within us the hope of glory.

This Christian mysticism, now, obviously differs in no essential respect from the parallel phenomena which are observable in other religions. It is only general mysticism manifesting itself on Christian ground and interpreting itself accordingly in the forms of Christian thought. It is mysticism which has learned to speak in Christian language. The phenomena themselves are universal. There has never been an age of the world, or a form of religion, in which they have not been in evidence. There are always everywhere some men who stand out among their fellows as listeners to the inner voice, and who, refusing the warning which Thoas gives to Iphigenia in Goethe's play, "There speaks no God: thy heart alone 'tis speaks," respond like Iphigenia with passionate conviction, "'Tis only through our hearts the gods e'er speak." But these common phenomena are, naturally, interpreted in each instance, according to the general presuppositions of each several subject or observer of them. Thus, for example, they are treated as the intrusion of God into the soul (Ribet), or as the involuntary intrusion of the unconscious into consciousness (Hartmann), or as the intrusion of the subconscious into the consciousness (Du Prel), or as the intrusion of feeling, strong and overmastering, into the operations of the intellect (Goethe).

According to these varying interpretations we get different types of mysticism, differing from one another not in intrinsic character so much as in the explanations given of the common phenomena. Many attempts have been made to arrange these types in logical schemes which shall embrace all varieties and present them in an intelligible order. Thus, for example, from the point of view of the ends sought, R. A. Vaughan distinguishes between theopathic, theosophic, and theurgic mysticism, the first of which is content with feeling, while the second aspires to knowledge, and the third seeks power. The same classes may perhaps be called more simply emotional, intellectual, and thelematic mysticism. From the point of view of the inquiry into the sources of religious knowledge four well-marked varieties present themselves, which have been given the names of naturalistic, supernaturalistic, theosophical, and pantheistic mysticism.

The common element in all these varieties of mysticism is that they all seek all, or most, or the normative or at least a substantial part, of the knowledge of God in human feelings, which they look upon as the sole or at least the most trustworthy or the most direct source of the knowledge of God. The differences between them turn on the diverging conceptions which they entertain of the origin of the religious feelings thus appealed to. Naturalistic mysticism conceives them as merely "the natural religious consciousness of men, as excited and influenced by the circumstances of the individual." Supernaturalistic, as the effects of operations of the divine Spirit in the heart, the human spirit moving only as it is moved upon by the divine. Theosophical mysticism goes a step further and regards the religious feelings as the footprints of Deity moving in the soul, and as, therefore, immediate sources of knowledge of God, which is to be obtained by simple quiescence and rapt contemplation of these His movements. Pantheistic mysticism advances to the complete identification of the soul with God, who is therefore to be known by applying oneself to the simple axiom: "Know thyself."

Clearly it is the type which has been called supernaturalistic that has the closest affinity with Christianity. Christian mysticism accordingly, at its best, takes this form and passes insensibly from it into evangelical Christianity, to which the indwelling of the Holy Ghost - the Christ within - is fundamental, and which rejoices in such spiritual experiences as are summed up in the old categories of regeneration and sanctification - the rebegetting of the soul into newness of life and the leading of the new-created soul along the pathway of holy living. From these experiences, of course, much may be inferred not only of the modes of God's working in the salvation of men but also of the nature and character of God the worker.

The distinction between mysticism of this type and evangelical Christianity, from the point of view which is now occupying our attention, is nevertheless clear. Evangelical Christianity interprets all religious experience by the normative revelation of God recorded for us in the Holy Scriptures, and guides, directs, and corrects it from these Scriptures, and thus molds it into harmony with what God in His revealed Word lays down as the normal Christian life. The mystic, on the other hand, tends to substitute his religious experience for the objective revelation of God recorded in the written Word, as the source from which he derives his knowledge of God, or at least to subordinate the expressly revealed Word as the less direct and convincing source of knowledge of God to his own religious experience. The result is that the external revelation is relatively depressed in value, if not totally set aside.

In the history of Christian thought mysticism appears accordingly as that tendency among professing Christians which looks within, that is, to the religious feelings, in its search for God. It supposes itself to contemplate within the soul the movements of the divine Spirit, and finds in them either the sole sources of trustworthy knowledge of God, or the most immediate and convincing sources of that knowledge, or, at least, a coordinate source of it alongside of the written Word. The characteristic of Christian mysticism, from the point of view of religious knowledge, is therefore its appeal to the "inner light," or "the internal word," either to the exclusion of the external or written Word, or as superior to it and normative for its interpretation, or at least as coordinate authority with it, this "inner light" or "internal word" being conceived not as the rational understanding but as the immediate deliverance of the religious sentiment. As a mere matter of fact, now, we lack all criteria, apart from the written Word, to distinguish between those motions of the heart which are created within us by the Spirit of God and those which arise out of the natural functioning of the religious consciousness. This substitution of our religious experience - or "Christian consciousness," as it is sometimes called - for the objective Word as the proper source of our religious knowledge ends therefore either in betraying us into purely rationalistic mysticism, or is rescued from that by the postulation of a relation of the soul to God which strongly tends toward pantheizing mysticism.

In point of fact, mysticism in the Church is found to gravitate, with pretty general regularity, either toward rationalism or toward pantheism. In effect, indeed, it appears to differ from rationalism chiefly in temperament, if we may not even say in temperature. The two have it in common that they appeal for knowledge of God only to what is internal to man; and to what, internal to man, men make their actual appeal, seems to be determined very much by their temperaments, or, as has been said, by their temperatures. The human soul is a small thing at best; it is not divided into water-tight compartments; the streams of feeling which are flowing up and down in it and the judgments of the understanding which are incessantly being framed in it are constantly acting and reacting on one another. It is not always easy for it to be perfectly clear, as it turns within itself and gazes upon its complex movements, of the real source, rational or emotional, of the impressions which it observes to be crystallizing within it into convictions. It has often been observed in the progress of history, accordingly, that men who have deserted the guidance of external revelation have become mystics or rationalists largely according as their religious life was warm or cold. In periods of religious fervor or in periods of fervid religious reactions they are mystics; in periods of religious decline they are rationalists. The same person, indeed, sometimes vibrates between the two points of view with the utmost facility.

It is, however, with pantheism that mysticism stands in the closest association. It would not be untrue, in fact, to say that as a historical phenomenon mysticism is just pantheism reduced to a religion, that is to say, with its postulates transformed into ends. Defenses of mysticism against the inevitable (and true) charge of pantheizing usually, indeed, stop with the announcement of this damaging fact. "Lasson," remarks Dean Inge as if that were the conclusion of the matter instead of, as it is, the confession of judgment, "says well, in his book on Meister Eckhart, 'Mysticism views everything from the standpoint of teleology, while pantheism generally stops at causality."' What it is of importance to observe is that it is precisely what pantheism, being a philosophy, postulates as conditions of being that mysticism, being a religion, proposes as objects of attainment. Mysticism is simply, therefore, pantheism expressed in the terms of religious aspiration.

This is as true within the Christian Church as without it. All forms of mysticism have no doubt from time to time found a place for themselves within the Church. Or perhaps we should rather say that they have always existed in it, and have from time to time manifested their presence there. This must be said even of naturalistic mysticism. There are those who call themselves Christians who yet conceive of Christianity as merely the natural religious sentiment excited into action by contact with the religious impulse set in motion by Jesus Christ and transmitted down the ages by the natural laws of motion, as motion is transmitted, say, through a row of billiard balls in contact with one another. Yet it would only be true to say that mysticism as a phenomenon in the history of the Church has commonly arisen in the wake of the dominating influence in the contemporary world of a pantheizing philosophy. It is the product of a pantheizing manner of thinking impinging on the religious nature, or, if we prefer to phrase it from the opposite point of view, of religious thought seeking to assimilate and to express itself in terms of a pantheizing philosophy.

The fullest stream of mystical thought which has entered the Church finds its origin in the Neoplatonic philosophy. It is to the writings of the Pseudo-Dionysius that its naturalization in the Eastern Church is usually broadly ascribed. The sluice-gates of the Western Church were opened for it, in the same broad sense, by John Scotus Erigena. It has flowed strongly down through all the subsequent centuries, widening here and there into lakelets. The form of mysticism which is most widely disturbing the modern Protestant churches comes, however, from a different source. It takes its origin from the movement inaugurated in the first third of the nineteenth century by Friedrich Schleiermacher, with the ostensible purpose of rescuing Christianity from the assaults of rationalism by vindicating for religion its own independent right of existence, in a region "beyond reason." The result of this attempt to separate religion from reason has been, of course, merely to render religion unreasonable; even Plotinus warned us long ago that "he who would rise above reason falls outside of it." But what we are immediately concerned to observe is the very widespread rejection of all "external authority," which has been one of the results of this movement, and the consequent casting of men back upon their "religious experience," corporate or individual, as their sole trustworthy ground of religious convictions. This is, of course, only "the inner light" of an earlier form of mysticism under a new and (so it has been hoped) more inoffensive name; and it is naturally, therefore, burdened with all the evils which inhere in the mystical attitude. These evils do not affect extreme forms of mysticism only; they are intrinsic in the two common principles which give to all its forms their fundamental character - the misprision of "external authority," and the attempt to discover in the movements of the sensibilities the ground or norm of all the religious truth which will be acknowledged.

"Mystics," says George Tyrrell, "think they touch the divine when they have only blurred the human form with a cloud of words." The astonishing thing about this judgment is not the judgment itself but the source from which it comes. For Tyrrell himself as a "Modernist" held with our "experientialists," and when he cast his eye into the future could see nothing but mysticism as the last refuge for religion. "Houtin and Loisy are right," he writes; "the Christianity of the future will consist of mysticism and charity, and possibly the eucharist in its primitive form as the outward bond. I desire no more." The plain fact is that this "religious experience," to which we are referred for our religious knowledge, can speak to us only in the language of religious thought; and where there is no religious thought to give it a tongue it is dumb. And above all, it must be punctually noted, it cannot speak to us in a Christian tongue unless that Christian tongue is lent it by the Christian revelation. The rejection of "external authority" and our relegation to "religious experience" for our religious knowledge is nothing more nor less, then, than the definitive abolition of Christianity and the substitution for it of natural religion. Tyrrell perfectly understood this, and that is what he means when he speaks of the Christianity of the future as reduced to "mysticism and charity." All the puzzling facts of Christianity (this is his view) - the incarnation and resurrection of the Son of God and all the puzzling doctrines of Christianity - the atonement in Christ's blood, the renewal through the Spirit, the resurrection of the body - all, all will be gone. For all this rests on "external authority." And men will content themselves, will be compelled to content themselves, with the motions of their own religious sensibilities - and (let us hope) with charity.

There is nothing more important in the age in which we live than to bear constantly in mind that all the Christianity of Christianity rests precisely on "external authority." Religion, of course, we can have without "external authority," for man is a religious animal and will function religiously always and everywhere. But Christianity, no. Christianity rests on "external authority," and that for the very good reason that it is not the product of man's religious sentiment but is a gift from God. To ask us to set aside "external authority" and throw ourselves back on what we can find within us alone - call it by whatever name you choose, "religious experience," "the Christian consciousness," "the inner light," "the immanent Divine" - is to ask us to discard Christianity and revert to natural religion. Natural religion is of course good - in its own proper place and for its own proper purposes. Nobody doubts - or nobody ought to doubt - that men are by nature religious and will have a religion in any event. The sensus divinitatis implanted in us - to employ Calvin's phrases - functions inevitably as a semen religionis.

Of course Christianity does not abolish or supersede this natural religion; it vitalizes it, and confirms it, and fills it with richer content. But it does so much more than this that, great as this is, it is pardonable that it should now and then be overlooked. It supplements it, and, in supplementing it, it transforms it, and makes it, with its supplements, a religion fitted for and adequate to the needs of sinful man. There is nothing "soteriological" in natural religion. It grows out of the recognized relations of creature and Maker; it is the creature's response to the perception of its Lord, in feelings of dependence and responsibility. It knows nothing of salvation. When the creature has become a sinner, and the relations proper to it as creature to its Lord have been superseded by relations proper to the criminal to its judge, natural religion is dumb. It fails just because it is natural religion and is unequal to unnatural conditions. Of course we do not say that it is suspended; we say only that it has become inadequate. It requires to be supplemented by elements which are proper to the relation of the offending creature to the offended Lord. This is what Christianity brings, and it is because this is what Christianity brings that it so supplements and transforms natural religion as to make it a religion for sinners. It does not supersede natural religion; it takes it up in its entirety unto itself, expanding it and developing it on new sides to meet new needs and supplementing it where it is insufficient for these new needs.

We have touched here the elements of truth in George Tyrrell's contention, otherwise bizarre enough, that Christianity builds not on Judaism but on paganism. The antithesis is unfortunate. Although in very different senses, Christianity builds both on Judaism and on paganism; it is the completion of the supernatural religion begun in Judaism, and it is the supernatural supplement to the natural religion which lies beneath all the horrible perversions of paganism. Tyrrell, viewing everything from the point of view of his Catholicism and dealing in historical as much as in theological judgments, puts his contention in this form: "That Catholicism is Christianized paganism or world-religion and not the Christianized Judaism of the New Testament." The idea he wishes to express is that Catholicism is the only tenable form of Christianity because it alone is founded, not on Judaism, but on "world-religion." What is worthy of our notice is that he says "world-religion," not "world-religions." He is thinking not of the infinite variety of pagan religions - many of them gross enough, none of them worthy of humanity ("man's worst crimes are his religions," says Dr. Faunce somewhere, most strikingly) - but of the underlying religion which sustains and gives whatever value they possess to them all.

Now mysticism is just this world-religion; that is to say, it is the expression of the ineradicable religiosity of the human race. So far as it is this, and nothing but this, it is valid religion, and eternal religion. No man can do without it, not even the Christian man. But it is not adequate religion for sinners. And when it pushes itself forward as an adequate religion for sinners it presses beyond its mark and becomes, in the poet's phrase, "procuress to the lords of hell." As vitalized and informed, supplemented and transformed by Christianity, as supplying to Christianity the natural foundation for its supernatural structure, it is valid religion. As a substitute for Christianity it is not merely a return to the beggarly elements of the world, but inevitably rots down to something far worse. Confining himself to what he can find in himself, man naturally cannot rise above himself, and unfortunately the self above which he cannot rise is a sinful self.

The pride which is inherent in the self-poised, self-contained attitude which will acknowledge no truth that is not found within oneself is already an unlovely trait, and a dangerous one as well, since pride is unhappily a thing which grows by what it feeds on. The history of mysticism only too clearly shows that he who begins by seeking God within himself may end by confusing himself with God. We may conceivably think that Mr. G. K. Chesterton might have chosen his language with a little more delicacy of feeling, but what he says in the following telling way much needs to be said in this generation in words which will command a hearing. He had seen some such observation as that which we have quoted from Tyrrell, to the effect that the Christianity of the future is to be a mere mysticism. This is the way he deals with it:

Only the other day I saw in an excellent weekly paper of Puritan tone this remark, that Christianity when stripped of its armor of dogma (as who should speak of a man stripped of his armor of bones) turned out to be nothing but the Quaker doctrine of the Inner Light. Now, if I were to say that Christianity came into the world specially to destroy the doctrine of the Inner Light, that would be an exaggeration. But it would be very much nearer the truth. . . . Of all the conceivable forms of enlightenment, the worst is what these people call the Inner Light. Of all horrible religions the most horrible is the worship of the God within. Anyone who knows anybody knows how it would work; anyone who knows anyone from thc Higher Thought Center knows how it does work. That Jones should worship the God within him turns out ultimately to mean that Jones shall worship Jones. Let Jones worship the sun or moon, anything rather than the Inner Light; let Jones worship cats or crocodiles, if he can find any in his street, but not the God within. Christianity came into the world firstly in order to assert with violence that a man had not only to look inward, but to look outward, to behold with astonishment and enthusiasm a divine company and a divine captain. The only fun of being a Christian was that a man was not left alone with the Inner Light, but definitely recognized an outer light, fair as the sun, clear as the moon, terrible as an army with banners.

Certainly, valuable as the inner light is - adequate as it might be for men who were not sinners - there is no fate which could be more terrible for a sinner than to be left alone with it. And we must not blink the fact that it is just that, in the full terribleness of its meaning, which mysticism means. Above all other elements of Christianity, Christ and what Christ stands for, with the cross at the center, come to us solely by "external authority." No "external authority," no Christ, and no cross of Christ. For Christ is history, and Christ's cross is history, and mysticism which lives solely on what is within can have nothing to do with history; mysticism which seeks solely eternal verities can have nothing to do with time and that which has occurred in time. Accordingly a whole series of recent mystical devotional writers sublimate the entire body of those historical facts, which we do not say merely lie at the basis of Christianity - we say rather, which constitute the very substance of Christianity - into a mere set of symbols, a dramatization of psychological experiences succeeding one another in the soul. Christ Himself becomes but an external sign of an inward grace. Read but the writings of John Cordelier. Not even the most reluctant mystic, however, can altogether escape some such process of elimination of the external Christ; by virtue of the very fact that he will not have anything in his religion which he does not find within himself he must sooner or later "pass beyond Christ."

We do not like Wilhelm Herrmann's rationalism any better than we like mysticism, and we would as soon have no Christ at all as the Christ Herrmann gives us. But Herrmann tells the exact truth when he explains in well-chosen words that "the piety of the mystic is such that at the highest point to which it leads Christ must vanish from the soul along with all else that is external." "When he has found God," he explains again, "the mystic has left Christ behind." At the best, Christ can be to the mystic but the model mystic, not Himself the Way as He declared of Himself, but only a traveler along with us upon the common way. So Miss Underhill elaborately depicts Him, but not she alone. Soderblom says of von Hugel that Jesus is to him "merely a high point in the religious development to which man must aspire." "He has no eye," he adds, "for the unique personal power which His figure exercises on man." This applies to the whole class. But much more than this needs to be said. Christ may be the mystic's brother. He may possibly even be his exemplar and leader, although He is not always recognized as such. What He cannot by any possibility be is his Saviour. Is not God within him? And has he not merely to sink within himself to sink himself into God? He has no need of "salvation" and allows no place for it.

We hear much of the revolt of mysticism against the forensic theory of the atonement and imputed righteousness. This is a mere euphemism for its revolt against all "atonement" and all "justification." The whole external side of the Christian salvation simply falls away. In the same euphemistic language Miss Underhill declares that "nothing done for us, or exhibited to us, can have the significance of that which is done in us." She means that it has no significance for us at all. Even a William Law can say: "Christ given for us is neither more nor less than Christ given into us. He is in no other sense our full, perfect, and sufficient Atonement, than as His nature and spirit are born and formed in us." The cross and all that the cross stands for are abolished; it becomes at best but a symbol of a general law - per aspera ad astra. "There is but one salvation for all mankind," says Law, "and the way to it is one; and that is the desire of the soul turned to God. This desire brings the soul to God and God into the soul: it unites with God, it cooperates with God, and is one life with God." If Christ is still spoken of, and His death and resurrection and ascension, and all the currents of religious feeling still turn to Him, that is because Christians must so speak and feel. The same experiences may be had under other skies and will under them express themselves in other terms appropriate to the traditions of those other times and places. That Christian mysticism is Christ mysticism, seeking and finding Christ within and referring all its ecstasies to Him, is thus only an accident. And even the functions of this Christ within us, which alone it knows, are degraded far below those of the Christ within us of the Christian revelation.

The great thing about the indwelling Christ of the Christian revelation is that He comes to us in His Spirit with creative power. Veni, creator Spiritus, we sing, and we look to be new creatures, created in Christ Jesus into newness of life. The mystic will allow, not a resurrection from the dead, but only an awakening from sleep. Christ enters the heart not to produce something new but to arouse what was dormant, what has belonged to man as man from the beginning and only needs to be set to work. "If Christ was to raise a new life like His own in every man," writes Law, "then every man must have had originally in the inmost spirit of his life a seed of Christ, or Christ as a seed of heaven, lying there in a state of insensibility, out of which it could not arise but by the mediatorial power of Christ." He cannot conceive of Christ bringing anything new; what Christ seems to bring he really finds already there. "The Word of God," he says, "is the hidden treasure of every human soul, immured under flesh and blood, till as a day-star it arises in our hearts and changes the son of an earthly Adam into a son of God." Nothing is brought to us; what is already in us is only "brought out," and what is already in us - in every man - is "the Word of God." This is Christ mysticism; that is to say, it is the mysticism in which the divinity which is in every man by nature is called Christ - rather than, say, Brahm or Allah, or what not.

Even in such a movement as that represented by Bishop Chandler's Cult of the Passing Moment, the disintegrating operation of mysticism on historical Christianity - which is all the Christianity there is - is seen at work. Bishop Chandler himself, we are thankful to say, exalts the cross and thinks of it as a creative influence in the lives of men. But this only exemplifies the want of logical consistency, which indeed is the boast of the school which he represents. If our one rule of life is to be the spiritual improvement of the impressions of the moment, and we are to follow these blindly whithersoever they lead with no steadying, not to say guidance, derived from the great Revelation of the past, there can be but one issue. We are simply substituting our own passing impulses, interpreted as inspirations, for the one final revelation of God as the guide of life; that God has spoken once for all for the guidance of His people is forgotten; His great corporate provision for His people is cast aside; and we are adrift upon the billows of merely subjective feeling.

We see that it is not merely Christ and His cross, then, which may be neglected, as external things belonging to time and space. God Himself, speaking in His Word, may be forgotten - in "the cult of the passing moment." We are reminded that there have been mystics who have not scrupled openly to contrast even the God without them with the God within, and to speak in such fashion as to be understood (or misunderstood) as counseling divesting ourselves of God Himself and turning only to the inwardly shining light. No doubt they did not mean all that their words may be pressed into seeming to say. Nevertheless, their words may stand for us as a kind of symbol of the whole mystical conception, with the exaggerated value which it sets upon the personal feelings and its contempt for all that is external to the individual's spirit, even though it must be allowed that this excludes all that makes Christianity the religion of salvation for a lost world - the cross, Christ Himself, and the God and Father of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ who in His love gave His Son to die for sinners.

The issue which mysticism creates is thus just the issue of Christianity. The question which it raises is, whether we need, whether we have, a provision in the blood of Christ for our sins; or whether we, each of us, possess within ourselves all that can be required for time and for eternity. Both of these things cannot be true, and obviously tertium non datur. We may be mystics, or we may be Christians. We cannot be both. And the pretension of being both usually merely veils defection from Christianity. Mysticism baptized with the name of Christianity is not thereby made Christianity. A rose by any other name will smell as sweet. But it does not follow that whatever we choose to call a rose will possess the rose's fragrance.

LIST OF OTHER STUDIES IN THEOLOGY

1. APOLOGETICS

AGNOSTICISM. (Article in "The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious

Knowledge," 1: pp. 87-88. Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York, 1911.) ATHEISM. (Article in "The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious

Knowledge," 1: pp. 346-347. Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York,

1911.)

CHRISTIAN EVIDENCES: HOW AFFECTED BY RECENT CRITICISMS. (The

Homiletic Review, 16: August, 1888, pp. 107-112.)

2. EXEGETICAL THEOLOGY

THE GREEK TESTAMENT OF WESTCOTT AND HORT. (The Presbyterian Review, 3: April, 1882, pp. 325-356.)

THE PROLEGOMENA TO TISCHENDORF'S NEW TESTAMENT: A REVIEW . (The

Expositor, 3d series, 1: 1885, pp. 142-150.)

INTRODUCTION TO ACTS AND THE PASTORAL EPISTLES. ("The Temple Bible." J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, 1902.)

SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF THE BOOK OF ACTS. (The Bible Student, 5: January, February, March, 1902, pp. 13-21, 72-80, 130-136.)

SYLLABUS ON THE SPECIAL INTRODUCTION TO THE CATHOLIC EPISTLES. (W. W. Waters, Publisher, Pittsburgh, 1883.)

SYNOPSIS OF ST. PAUL'S EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. (Appendix to "Syllabus on the

Special Introduction to the Catholic Epistles," pp. 197-211.)

ON THE POST-EXILIAN PORTION OF OUR LORD'S GENEALOGY. (The Presbyterian

Review, 2: April, 1881, pp. 388-397.)

MESSIANIC PSALMS OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. (The Expositor, 3d series, 2:

1885, pp. 301-309.)

THE SCENES OF THE BAPTIST'S WORK. (The Expositor, 3d series, 1: 1885, pp.

267-282.)

THE READINGS [Ellhnav AND Ellhnista>v, ACTS XI. 20. (Journal of the

Society of Biblical Literature and Exegesis, 1883, pp. 113-127.)

SOME DIFFICULT PASSAGES IN THE FIRST CHAPTER OF II CORINTHIANS. (Journal of the Society of Biblical Literature and Exegesis, December, 1886, pp. 27-

39.)

THE DATE OF THE EPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. (Journal of the Society of

Biblical Literature and Exegesis, 1884, pp. 50-64.)

SOME EXEGETICAL NOTES ON I TIMOTHY. (The Presbyterian Review, 8: July, October, 1887, pp. 500-508, 702-710.)

JAMES. (Article in "A Dictionary of the Bible," by John D. Davis, 2d ed., pp. 337-

338.The Westminster Press, Philadelphia, 1903.)

338. The Westminster Press, Philadelphia, 1903.)

JUDE. (Article in "A Dictionary of the Bible," by John D. Davis, 2d ed., pp. 406-

407. The Westminster Press, Philadelphia, 1903.)

PETER. (Article in "A Dictionary of the Bible," by John D. Davis, 2d ed., pp. 569-

571. The Westminster Press, Philadelphia, 1903.)

AMAZEMENT. (Article in "A Dictionary of Christ and the Gospels," edited by James

Hastings, 1: pp. 4748. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1908.)

ASTONISHMENT. (Article in "A Dictionary of Christ and the Gospels," edited by James Hastings, 1: p. 131. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1908.) CHILDREN. (Article in "A Dictionary of Christ and the Gospels," edited by James Hastings, 1: pp. 301-305. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1908.)

RENEWAL. (Article in "The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious

Knowledge," 9: pp. 487-488. Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York,

1911.)

CHRIST'S "LITTLE ONES." (The Bible Student and Teacher, 1: September, 1904, pp. 515-525.)

ST. PAUL'S USE OF THE ARGUMENT FROM EXPERIENCE. (The Expositor, 5th series, 1: 1895, pp. 226-236.)

THE CENTURY'S PROGRESS IN BIBLICAL KNOWLEDGE. (The Homiletic Review, 39: March, 1900, pp. 195-202.)

REVIEW OF FIVE EDITIONS OF THE DIDACHE. (The Andover Review, 4: December,

1885, pp. 593-599.) TEXT, SOURCES, AND CONTENTS OF "THE TWO WAYS"

OR FIRST

SECTION OF THE DIDACHE. (The Bibliotheca Sacra, 43: January, 1886, pp. 100-

161.)

TEXTUAL CRITICISM OF "THE TWO WAYS." (The Expositor, 3d series, 3: February, 1886, pp. 156-159.)

NOTES ON THE DIDACHE. (Journal of the Society of Biblical Literature and

Exegesis, June, 1886, pp. 86-98.)

THE DIDACHE AND ITS KINDRED FORMS, WITH ESPECIAL REFERENCE TO THE

PAPER OF DR. MCGIFFERT. (The Andover Review, 6: July, 1886, pp. 81-97.) SOME RECENT APOCRYPHAL GOSPELS. (The Southern Presbyterian Review, 35:

October, 1884, pp. 711-759.

3. SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY

THE RIGHT OF SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY. (The Presbyterian and Reformed Review, 7: July, 1896, pp. 412-458. Also published in book form by T. & T. Clark, Edinburgh, 1897.)

THE INDISPENSABLENESS OF SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY TO THE PREACHER. (The

Homiletic Review, 33: February, 1897, pp. 99-105.)

RECENT RECONSTRUCTIONS OF THEOLOGY, FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF

SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY. (The Homiletic Review, 35: March, 1898, pp. 201-

208.)

ANTITRINITARIANISM. (Article in "The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge," 1: pp. 203-205. Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York, 1911.)

PROFESSOR HENRY PRESERVED SMITH ON INSPIRATION. (The Presbyterian and

Reformed Review, 5: October, 1894, pp. 600-653.)

GOD'S PROVIDENCE OVER ALL. (The King's Own, 6: July, 1895, pp. 671-675.) THE PRESENT DAY CONCEPT OF EVOLUTION. (Published by the College Printing

Office, Emporia, Kansas, n. d.)

REPENTANCE AND ORIGINAL SIN. (The Union Seminary Magazine, 10: February,

1899, pp. 169-174.)

THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE SABBATH IN THE WORD OF GOD. (An address delivered at the Fourteenth International Lord's Day Congress held in Oakland, California, July 27-August 1, 1915, published in "Sunday the World's Rest Day," pp. 63-81. Doubleday,

Page & Company, New York, 1916. Also published in The Free Presbyterian

Magazine, Glasgow, January, February, March, 1918, pp. 316-319, 350-354,

378-383.)

BAPTISM . (Article in "The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious

Knowledge," 1: pp. 446-450. Funk and Wagnalls Company, New York,

1911.)

HOW SHALL WE BAPTIZE? (The Methodist Quarterly Review, 60: October,

1911, pp. 641-660.)

CHRISTIAN BAPTISM . (Pamphlet published by the Presbyterian Board of

Publication and Sabbath School Work, Philadelphia, 1920.)

4. HISTORICAL THEOLOGY

THE BIBLE THE BOOK OF MANKIND. (A paper read at the World's Bible Conference, held at the Panama-Pacific Exposition, San Francisco, California, August 1-4, 1915. Published as "Centennial Pamphlet No. 1," by the American Bible Society, New York, 1915.)

DARWIN'S ARGUMENTS AGAINST CHRISTIANITY AND AGAINST RELIGION. (The

Homiletic Review, 17: January, 1889, pp. 9-16.)

AFRICA AND THE BEGINNINGS OF CHRISTIAN LATIN LITERATURE. (The American

Journal of Theology, January, 1907, pp. 95-110.)

THE POSTURE OF THE RECIPIENTS AT THE LORD'S SUPPER: A FOOTNOTE TO THE HISTORY OF REFORMED USAGES. (Journal of the Presbyterian Historical Society, 11: June, 1922, pp. 217-234.)

THE RELATION OF THE PRESBYTERIAN PRINCIPLE TO THE HISTORIC EPISCOPATE.

(Methodist Review, 71: November, 1889, pp. 845-850.)

HOW PRINCETON SEMINARY GOT TO WORK. (Journal of the Presbyterian

Historical Society, 9: June, 1918, pp. 256-266.)

THE EXPANSION OF THE SEMINARY, A HISTORICAL SKETCH. (Pamphlet published at Princeton, 1914.)

5. MISCELLANEA

SPIRITUAL CULTURE IN THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. (The Princeton

Theological Review, 2: January, 1904, pp. 65-87.)

THE RELIGIOUS LIFE OF THEOLOGICAL STUDENTS. (An address delivered at the Autumn Conference at Princeton Theological Seminary, October 4, 1911. Published as a pamphlet at Princeton, 1911.)

TRUE CHURCH UNITY: WHAT IT IS. (The Homiletic Review, 20: December, 1890, pp. 483-489.)

THE PROPOSED UNION WITH THE CUMBERLAND PRESBYTERIANS. (The Princeton

Theological Review, 2: April, 1904, pp. 295-316.)

PRESBYTERIAN DEACONESSES. (The Presbyterian Review, 10: April, 1889, pp.

283-293.)

SOME PERILS OF MISSIONARY LIFE. (The Presbyterian Quarterly, 13: July, 1899, pp. 385-404.)

KIKUYU, CLERICAL VERACITY AND MIRACLES. (The Princeton Theological

Review, 12: October, 1914, pp. 529-585.)

SANCTIFYING THE PELAGIANS. (The Princeton Theological Review, 1: July, 1903, pp. 457-462.)

DREAM. (Article in "A Dictionary of Christ and the Gospels," edited by James

Hastings, 1: pp. 491 198. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1908.)

"EDITORIAL NOTES" and reviews of current theological literature under the heading,

"CURRENT BIBLICAL THOUGHT," in The Bible Student, 1:-viii. 1900-1903.

Table of Contents

1. APOLOGETICS

2. CHRISTIAN SUPERNATURALISM

3. THE IDEA OF SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY

4. THE TASK AND METHOD OF SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY

5. GOD

6. PREDESTINATION IN THE REFORMED CONFESSIONS

7. ON THE ANTIQUITY AND UNITY OF THE HUMAN RACE

8. ATONEMENT

9. MODERN THEORIES OF THE ATONEMENT

10. IMPUTATION

11. ON FAITH IN ITS PSYCHOLOGICAL ASPECTS

12. THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE MODE OF BAPTISM

13. THE POLEMICS OF INFANT BAPTISM

14. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE DOCTRINE OF INFANT SALVATION

15. ANNIHILATIONISM

16. THE THEOLOGY OF THE REFORMATION

17. THE NINETY-FIVE THESES IN THEIR THEOLOGICAL SIGNIFICANCE

18. EDWARDS AND THE NEW ENGLAND THEOLOGY

19. CHARLES DARWIN'S RELIGIOUS LIFE

20. THE LATEST PHASE OF HISTORICAL RATIONALISM

21. MYSTICISM AND CHRISTIANITY

LIST OF OTHER STUDIES IN THEOLOGY