dered Good: "But whoso hath this world's good, [i. e. this world's means of subsistence,] and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?" (1 John iii. 17.) The distinction of bios from psuche is obvious enough. Its distinction from zōē, is chiefly in the notion it involves of mode and means of living; and in the circumstance that it refers invariably, in the New Testament, to the course of natural life, while there the latter is more commonly used of spiritual life. man. We have thus exemplified the New Testament usage of these terms, and endeavored to point out the chief distinctions in their significance respectively. Our object has been to present as clear an idea as we could give of the form of thought denoted by soul or psuche, especially in its relation to spirit or pneuma. The result, we think, is, that there are no grounds to suppose the writers of the New Testament ever intended, by these two words, to express two personalities, two selfs, or two centres of volition, in It is true that they often use the words differently; and we have seen the general reasons why they do so, in the different scale that measures the meaning of the terms, in the rhetorical proprieties observed in all languages, and in the habits of speech that are transmitted down from an earlier and cruder stage of culture. It is also true that they sometimes mention the soul and the spirit as in some way distinct; and it has been shown that in certain respects the scope of the one term is distinguished from that of the other, so as to justify this construction, according to the common manner of speaking. Considerable stress, however, has been laid on a few passages like the following: "I pray God your whole spirit, and soul, and body, be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." (1 Thess. v. 23.) From such examples it has been gravely argued that there must be two distinct internal organisms. It is sufficient to say that this would not follow, even on the most hypercritical interpretation. But, is the form of the sentence any thing more than a mode of rhetorical emphasis to express the whole man? So, too, it is said, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength.... And to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the soul, and with all the strength, is better than all whole burnt-offering and sacrifice." (Mark xii. 30, 33.) What shall we do, in this case? invent a new system of psychology, to furnish each term with a distinct subject? Shall we maintain that the heart represents one personal self, the soul another, enveloping it, and the mind, understanding, and strength, successive wrappages of that kind? We read, also, that "the multitude of them that believed, were of one heart, and of one soul." (Acts iv. 32.) In all these cases, the form of expres sion is merely cumulative; and, though the words may indeed have different shades of meaning, the chief aim in their multiplication is emphasis. Another text, which has been still more relied upon to prove a twofold psychologi cal existence, is the phrase, "the dividing asunder of soul (psuche,) and spirit (pneuma.)" Here, it is pleaded, we are obliged to admit two substances; else, how could they be divided asunder? But the remarks, just offered on the other passage, are equally applicable to this. Press the language to the utmost, take it as rigorously scientific; and, even then, it can be made to recognize only some such distinction as we have pointed out in the scope of the terms, a dividing of certain elements involved in the one, from certain elements involved in the other. The language, however, is obviously that of common life, as the tenor of the whole sentence shows: "The word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." (Heb. iv. 12.) Nothing is plainer than that terms and epithets are here accumulated in order to give intensity to the expression. We might as well argue that thoughts and intents are wholly distinct from each other, as that soul and spirit are so. H. B. 2d. 156 Christianity and Culture. [ ART. X. Christianity and Culture. The Nemesis of Faith, by J. A. Froude. London, John Cha 1849. THAT as the human mind advances it finds incre proof of Christianity, is a proposition as well-sustaine it is familiar. The evidences of our religion are as ous as its adaptations. Its authenticity is illustrated by the wants and faculties of man. It is proclaimed in struggles and attainments of the solitary soul. It is de oped in the progress of the race. It flows through whole current of history that streams downward from advent of Jesus. It is reiterated in every discovery. the ideal of all that is good and true. It animates ev noble effort. It shines upon us in every attitude we assu above that of the lowest sensualism. It yields the o permanent consolation. It illuminates the mystery of 1 It glorifies death. But there is a proposition which, though similar to th is sufficiently distinct to make the evidence in that dir tion more forcible. The proposition is, that an advan culture demands Christianity. It would, doubtless, be teresting to inquire how much Christianity developes whole nature and produces the very conditions which alone can satisfy. But, leaving this point untouched, proceed to observe, that our unfolding nature finds ne confirmations of the gospel, because it continually becom conscious of deeper wants. The testimony to Christiani is the witness of human experience. We are made awa of its adaptedness, because more and more driven to se its aid. We discover that it is the universal and perm nent light, because we are passing into a circle which th light alone can fill. We know it to be the word of ete nal life, for nothing else answers our deepest questions, confirms our best anticipations. It is no doubt true that "great hopes are for great souls and that generous and cultivated natures will find out the highest truths, and appreciate them more readily, than the ignorant and narrow-minded. Hold up to them such a truth, and they will be the first to recognize it. Nay, they are the men who have had forebodings of it, and who are able to confirm it by new and larger evidences. But these also, more than others, feel the need of such truth. The philosopher grasps more readily the idea of immortality, and feels its certainty, more than the barbarian; but if there is any deficiency of evidence, he likewise realizes that more keenly. The saint with his spiritual ideal and holy aspirations is perplexed for want of a Guide, but this does not trouble the sensualist upon whom the notion of duty has hardly dawned. The affectionate spirit, linked by vital sympathies to the race, painfully explores the law of human welfare and the problem of human destiny, but the hard and selfish man cares nothing for these things. Thus an advanced culture suggests questions and creates demands, which do not occur to a lower condition. If those who are farther back do not absolutely rest, they are satisfied from period to period with less comprehensive answers. The history of religious progress illustrates this. There is a time when fetichism corresponds to man's idea of God. But there comes an era when he breaks the hideous idol, and will not rest until he finds the infinite Father. There is a time when a rude, sensual religion is enough for the conscience. There comes a period when it cannot remain in forms, or rituals, or any gross conceptions; when, worn out with errors, sick of theories, thirsting for inexhaustible fountains, the soul turns to Jesus, as alone having the words of eternal life. In his lowest estate, man is compelled to be a seeker; but then he easily finds what he seeks. In a higher condition, he cuts loose from all his former trust, and demands truth so deep and broad that Christ alone can fill it. That very progress, then, social or individual, which to some minds may seem to threaten the stability of Christianity, and to be transferring it to the category of superseded systems, does in reality make our need of it more profound and apparent. It may prove interesting to notice this fact in a few details. In considering the phases of culture, we readily turn to those achievements which have been accomplished at the present day in the department of natural science. We live in the same universe in which the Greek thought, and the Roman acted; but how different are our conceptions of it from theirs! The human intellect, advancing with the process of ages, has lifted veil after veil from the face of nature, and has seen the horizon of this world burst away into immensity, like a film. In the eye of modern science, the earth has dwindled to a speck, and should it disappear from among the hosts of heaven, its vanishing would be no more than the falling of a leaf in the forest. Now he who goes forth at the present day to explore nature, goes forth with the teachings of the gospel in his mind and with its revealing light cast all over the universe. It is impossible, therefore, for him to avoid the influence of its suggestions. But in order to make more vivid the truth we are now endeavoring to urge, we will suppose that we stand in this vast field of modern discovery with nothing but these material phenomena and our own reason. Suppose that thus we come in contact with the great truths of astronomy, for instance. This is, certainly, the most religious of the sciences, and far be it from us to insinuate that there is any irreligious tendency in the enlarged apprehension which it affords. These opening fields of wonder make more clear our conceptions of the Infinity, and furnish a brighter illustration of the glory of God. Still, we are supposing now that we are not looking through the lens of Christian truth; that no ray of supernatural light mingles with these material splendors, and no sentiment of the gospel colors our scientific perception. And as the mind, without this light, travels up these giddy heights and staggers along the cheerless immensity, deep questionings will arise, and gloomy doubts will glide like an eclipse across the disc of reason. dencies will spring up confounding the Creator with His works; confounding all intelligent and spiritual Personality with the web of nature which it weaves. Everywhere, from the sun to an atom, appears rigid and unbroken matter. No hand stops for a moment that despotic order. No voice breaks that awful silence. Moreover, we know not the inherent resources of nature. We behold it as simply a stupendous machine, evolving in Ten |