sider this further step, and in so doing approach the other element present in all religion-the moral interest. This we saw to involve the demand to know and have communion with the Ruler of the world. The moral consciousness cannot regard God as a mere force, governing events without conscious purpose: it expects to be admitted in some measure into the Divine confidence, if we may use the phrase, to learn something in detail of God's purpose, and to give free aid in carrying it out.

Between the purely metaphysical interest and this loftier moral consciousness in religion, there is a condition which is theoretically intermediate-the consciousness which expresses itself in Art. This is said to be theoretically intermediate, because when it does appear it falls naturally into this place. But it must not be inferred that the emergence of the moral impulse in connection with religion depends on a previous development of Art. The ideal of Art as opposed to the ideal of Thought is more conspicuously living. Nature is interpreted not only in intellectual forms, but also emotionally. It is conceived as a scene of joy and sorrow,-of joy and sorrow like that of men. It is not the mere evolution of fixed and uniform law, but a region in which there is play for the dramatic sense. At the same time this point of view falls short of the fulness of the moral idea. Its result is, for the most part, pantheistic. The personality of God may easily be left aside; and there is no firm line drawn. between the evil and the good. That which is beautiful, or can be made to yield the sense of beauty, is the source of the inspiration of the aesthetic sense; and something stronger than this is required to satisfy the moral nature.

We turn, then, to the consideration of the moral sense, and inquire what is its ideal, what demand it makes upon the world. It will not be necessary to argue that there is a continuity in the growth of the moral sense, and that even in its lower and coarser forms there is a sufficient likeness with the higher, to prove their kinship. Nor again need we spend time upon discussing the rise of moral sentiments out of feelings and desires which are not moral. Whatever its origin, the moral sense considers actions, and especially agents, in the light of what they ought to be rather than what they are. It is, therefore, in the first place, unselfish in its principles. Its judgment falls indifferently (so long as it is not distorted and corrupt) upon all men: it is not, as such, affected by considerations of mere pleasure or pain to oneself or any other person. It rises out of the narrowness of individual interests and longings, and considers these broadly as they are affected by their relations one with another. Like the intellect, it demands universality—a law which binds all men alike.

But, secondly, the universality of the moral law is different from that which obtains in the intellectual region. The laws of nature, as formulated by the mind, are short statements of a number of facts; they depend upon the existence of the facts, and they cannot be broken. It may happen that new facts may be observed, which involve a readjustment of the old laws: but this is simply an enlargement of experience, not a breach of law already existing. If it be found that the old law. was altogether on wrong principles, it is ourselves who have made the mistake: we have devised a formula to which the world will not answer, and experience has

brought our error to light. If, on the other hand, it be found that a law was true so far as it went, but that wider knowledge has enabled us to form a more comprehensive view of things, we have simply to readjust our intellectual formulæ reorganize our scheme of nature. It is different with the moral law. That is susceptible of real breach. That which should have been done-that which the moral order of the world demanded-may be set aside and its contrary realized.

Thirdly, we regard the laws of physical nature and the moral world with widely different feelings. A man may misinterpret the facts of nature, and formulate a rule which they do not follow: and we say he has made a mistake, a miscalculation, he is intellectually in the wrong. Or, knowing the facts of nature, he may attempt to act as if its laws were non-existent or different. And we call him a fool for his pains. Unless, indeed, his action risks interests which have no business to be trifled with; and then we condemn him morally. But the moral condemnation falls upon the act considered morally and not in its physical relations. We do not feel called upon to defend nature's laws morally: if any one succeeded in altering them, no one would mind; but we know that no one can.

These differences depend on the ultimate difference in the constituent elements of the physical and moral worlds. We may perhaps express it by saying that the physical world is a complex of facts, the moral world a society of free persons. Hence the moral law is not conceived as a mechanical and unbroken sequence, but as a law in the true sense; emerging from the will of a supreme Person; conditioning, of right, the wills of those in the society who owe reverence and love to the

Supreme. It is not arbitrary: it runs back into the ultimate constitution of things. We are under it, because we are human beings. It is inevitable: for, though we may stifle its representative within us,—our own conscience, or make it speak at our pleasure, we know that such expedients delude no one but ourselves. Again, the moral law is irksome only when we resist it: obedience brings us into true and friendly communion with the Power from whom it comes.

:

The world, then, as conceived by the moral sense, is under the rule of a Personal Governor, who is Himself holy who knows and judges the hearts of men: with whom men are allowed to enter into communion. The ideal of the moral sense is a world in which this law is fully carried out. And it is by reference to this ideal standard that individual moral judgments are made. As in the case of pure thought, this ideal is necessary as an assumption, unless we are prepared to treat the utterances of the moral sense as invalid altogether. We must not, however, fail to recognize that it, like the ideal of thought, must fall short of realization. As the ideal of Thought is hindered by the failure of knowledge, so the ideal of Morality is perplexed by evil. For the moral sense looks to find the world ruled according to its own best hopes-expects that the good should triumph and that any breach of the rule of good should be visited with punishment. But experience conflicts with this. In spite of conscience, the evil does triumph at times to the detriment of the good. And this is a far more perplexing failure than that of the ideal of Thought. Thought claimed to interpret the world on its own principles, and every step it takes in advance brings it nearer attainment of its end. The

process is long, but every stage of it adds assurance and certainty. It is a progress carried on in hope. But in the other case the failure is irreparable. Every unpunished wrong is, within this world's scope, a lasting irremediable failure. The martyr can have nothing done for him by the world to repair the wrong it has done him. No man survives in the verses of poets, or the sculptor's marble. And yet the moral Ruler of the world has permitted it. Here is indeed a problem. It has been met, of course, with despair: but better than this, it has given a peculiar intensity of hope to the desire for immortality. The wrong done here, it has been felt, cannot really be final. Beyond this world there should be another, where all this crookedness shall be straightened out.

We have now traced out at some length the raison d'être of those ideas which form the content of Natural Theology. We have seen how beliefs and practices which belong to the most undeveloped types of humanity have a real kinship with speculations more elaborate and loftier than they. It may be worth while to pause for a moment, and draw together the results we have attained. They may be expressed briefly thus. This fact emerges on consideration of the history of philosophy and religion, that man claims to interpret the world on the analogy of his own nature,-that he expects to find in it the activity of a Personality more or less like his own, who cares about him, and is holy, and rewards holiness here or hereafter; and this expectation is the permanent fact which explains the presence of so many religious phenomena.

All over the world men are religious: it is probable that no such thing as an atheistic tribe of men exists