value of life, and shows him how to realize the true goal of his being. It belongs to the world of transcendent values, and must be understood and estimated accordingly. The doctrine is no great novelty, and, in the hands of others who have expounded it, has not been deemed a heresy. It is simply a version of Coleridge's idea that the Bible "finds us" as no other book does, because it finds us "at deeper depths of our being" than any other book. It finds us not in the upper regions of our theoretic understanding, but in the still deeps of our spiritual nature and needs. Pascal gave it classic expression in what he says about the three orders or realms of being: the outward or material, the intellectual-the empire of geniusand the spiritual. To the second of these, he says, belong a value and greatness which cannot be measured in terms of the first. "All the splendor of external show has no luster for those who are engaged in intellectual research. The greatness of intellectual men is imperceptible to kings, to the rich, to captains, to all those carnally great." "Great geniuses have their empire, their renown, their greatness, and their luster, but have no need of material grandeur, with which they have no relation. They are seen, not with the eyes, but with the mind. That is enough." That is to say that the achievements of research and thought lie in a higher plane than outward displays, and are to be estimated accordingly. The judgment by which their excellence is discerned is a judgment of worth. The mind recognizes them as belonging to a world of values higher than all material goods. But, continues Pascal, there is a still higher realm or order of values, that is, the religious or spiritual: "The saints have their empire, their renown, their victory, their luster, and have no need of material or intellectual grandeur with which they have no relation [this is ultra Ritschlianism], for they neither add to them nor take from them. They are seen of God and angels, and not by body and curious intellect: God is sufficient for them." And then, applying this idea of the threefold order of values to God's revelation in Christ, he continues: "Jesus Christ, without wealth and without any outward production of science, is

in his order of holiness. He gave no inventions; he did not reign; but he was humble, patient, holy, holy, holy to God, terrible to demons, without any sin. O, with what great pomp, and with what prodigious magnificence, did he come to the eyes of the heart, and the eyes which see wisdom!" "It would have been useless for our Lord Jesus Christ, in order to appear with splendor in his reign of holiness, to come as a king; but with a splendor of his own order has he indeed come!"

This is the doctrine of value-judgment, as applied to revelation, which has been so much criticised in Ritschl. But if one does not like to receive it at the hands of Ritschl he may have it from the philosophic Coleridge, the Catholic Pascal, or the Protestant Dorner. Or, if he is still suspicious, perhaps his dread of accepting some novelty might be allayed by the assertion of the apostle Paul that spiritual things can only be discerned and estimated by the spiritual mind. This is the simple and, as it would seem, unobjectionable Ritschlian doctrine of value-judgments in the estimate of revelation. Whether Ritschl always applied this principle correctly or not is, of course, a fair question. But if he did not the principle is no more to be condemned than is the grammaticohistorical principle of exegesis to be condemned if some advocate of it misapplies it.

I now pass to the third topic-Ritschl's view of the person of Christ.

Ritschl defined the divinity of Christ in religious, rather than in metaphysical, terms. The divinity of Christ meant to him that Christ was the supreme Revealer of God—that in him alone the ethical nature, will, and world-purpose of God stood disclosed. "Jesus experienced," he says, "a religious relation to God that had not previously existed, and demonstrated it to his disciples; and it was his intention to introduce his disciples into the same religious view of the world and judgment of themselves, and under this condition into the universal task of the kingdom of God, which he knew to be assigned to his disciples as to himself." Thus he finds the

meaning of Christ for men in his unique and incomparable relation to God, his perfect knowledge of God, and adequate disclosure of his nature and requirements. "New relation," "fresh estimate," "unique life-task"-these are the terms which express the Christian's sense of the value and power of Christ. The creeds have defined him in terms of substance, subsistence, hypostatic union, and the like, and have laid comparatively little stress upon those aspects of Christ which are most real and most precious to the Christian heart and life. These colorless, metaphysical categories Ritschl held to be too cold and bloodless to express the Christian estimate of Christ. He accordingly insisted upon defining his person in terms of religious experience, not as furnishing an exhaustive description of his person, which lies beyond our power, but as accentuating those meanings and values in which the Christian world has always found the power of his life and work. It will be apparent that Ritschl simply applied to the interpretation of the person of Christ his principle of value-judgment. Christ is for religious thought and life what Christ means. It is what Christ does for us which gives us our estimate of his person. He does for us what God alone can do, therefore we come to God in and through him; in him alone we see the Father. This, Ritschl held, is the light in which the New Testament presents Christ to us; this the way in which the early Church conceived and estimated him. At an early date, however, speculation took up the task of making a theoretic analysis of Christ's inner mystery considered as a puzzle in metaphysics. Philosophy proceeded to define him in the colorless categories of speculation and then to impose these definitions as essential to Christian faith and necessary to salvation. This procedure Ritschl repudiated. His claim was that he rejected the Christ of speculative theology in the interest of the Christ of history and of religious faith. Whatever may be thought of his success, we must say, with Mr. Garvie, that "his intention is not to doubt or deny the divinity of Christ, but to give to it the most adequate expression, and to offer of it the most convincing evidence,

that from his point of view are possible" (The Ritschlian

Theology, p. 285).

Whether it is possible or necessary for theology to make dogmatic affirmations on points on which Ritschl and his school remain silent, one thing is clear: that no theological system has more strongly emphasized the supreme significance of Christ in revelation and redemption than has Ritschl's. For him revelation centers in the personal Christ. "Back to Christ" is his motto. Back from the Christ of dogma to the Christ of history! Back from the Christ of speculation to the Christ of faith and experience! If Ritschl will know nothing of the Christ of the creeds-two whole and indivisible natures united in a single person-it is equally true that for the saving knowledge of God and for the guidance and inspiration of life he will know nothing else than the Christ who lived, labored, and suffered for men. This Christ whom faith knows and love embraces was to him, as to Paul, "the power of God and the wisdom of God."

ART. V.-SOME EARLY CHRISTIAN FRAGMENTS.

I was on my way to Trieste to take the steamer for Alexdria, en route to the Orient. A heavy snowstorm held us fast on the Alps for eight hours, so that instead of reaching Trieste at eight o'clock in the morning we pulled into the depot at 5 P. M., four hours after the departure of the steamer. The only thing to do was to wait a week until the next steamer. How were we to pass the time in this apparently uninteresting Austro-Italian seaport? We seized this opportunity to investigate this old city, so beautifully situated on its lovely bay at the head of the Adriatic, and also to indulge in a number of foot tours over the spurs of the Rhetian Alps, visiting the quaint towns of Capo d'Istria, Pirano, and Muggia, each with its graceful campanile decorated with the winged lion of St. Mark, indicating the sway of Venice. Trieste has a peculiar charm for the archæologist. It has a proud history going back to Roman times, when it was a fortified town with a strong citadel, known as "Tergeste." In a sort of garden called the "Lapadario Triestino" is a collection of antiquities from early Roman times. Among them one finds a decree from the curia of Tergeste in honor of a fellow-citizen and senator at Rome; also a monument erected to a former governor of Spain and Pannonia; an inscription in honor of the dedication of one of the temples in Tergeste to a Capitoline divinity; inscriptions in honor of Cæsar Augustus; sarcophagi and cinerary urns; fragments of statues, etc. But most interesting to me were the fragments of early Christian monuments with inscriptions. On discovering the latter I hastened to my room and brought my abklatch papier, or squeeze paper. The Italian woman who was the custodian of the relics held a basin of water while I wet the paper with a sponge and laying it carefully on the stone drove the softened paper into every depression. I bore away four squeezes, precious relics of the early Christians of this region. The story of these fragments is this: The town of Aquileia, about