should be reasonable. He should recognize his limitations, and should be willing that God should teach him. Shut out from him-around, above, and before him—are secrets of the greatest moment, but which can only be revealed to him through an agency higher than his own. It is in such a spirit as this he should approach the study of prophecy. If he concludes in advance that he is of himself sufficient to draw aside the veil, and that no answer can come to him from the other side, he will never seriously ask for aid from on high, nor believe it possible. But if he recognizes the boundaries of his own intellectual domain, and is hospitable to an invasion of light, then shall he see, not only the mighty cedars of truth that grow around him, but the treasures of knowledge that have been slowly worked out of the mine of prophecy by God in history for the enlightenment of mankind and for the establishment of the Christian religion. WHE CHAPTER VII THE ARGUMENT FROM HUMANITY JHEN Coleridge in "Christabel" describes the rupture between Roland and Sir Leoline, he graphically adds: They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between ; But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, The marks of that which once hath been. Visitors to the cañons of Colorado, if they have ever taken the pains to examine, must have observed how true to nature this poetic conception is. They have seen the section of a mountain that has been cleft by earthquake, or some other violent cataclysm, disclosing the proof of its former unity in the corresponding configurations on both walls of the chasm. Were a Titan to come that way it seems as though he could press the sides together, and that the parts would meet and fit in and with each other so exactly that it would be impossible to determine precisely where the line of the old division should be drawn. And thus, though humanity stands apart from God and though a gulf of darkness in which sluggishly rolls the flood of sin separates the creature from the Creator, there survive traits of character, sublime aspirations, and mysterious 260 66 questionings which indicate that they were once one and that, though rent, they are still designed for each other. If Lactantius is to be credited, the word Religion" comes from re-ligare, "to bind back," and recalling Coleridge's suggestive figure, we may represent its function as being "to bind back" the heart alienated from God; to restore the broken harmonies, and thus cause the cliffs, long since torn asunder to be forever unified. And the religion that is fitted to do this, that is itself so complete an equivalent in its supplies to man's necessities that the human and divine meet and entwine, interlace, and are spiritually sutured is self-evidently from Heaven. An interesting story was related to me several years ago, which may further illustrate this thought and the scope of the proposed argument. Among the booty brought to Paris from Spain by Marshal Soult was an exquisite painting of the virgin and her child by Murillo; but curiously enough, only the center of the picture appeared to be by the master, as the border was inferior in design and coloring and was not by his hand. Examination showed that the portrait had been cut out by some vandal's knife from the original canvas, and had been surrounded by meretricious work. The two did not agree. There was manifest schism between the face and the tawdry frame from some vulgar brush. But the other portion of the story is even more singular. Lord Overstone, the English financier, when traveling in Spain found in a curiosity shop a picture of a very common sort, with the exception of the border, which was composed of clouds and child angels, in the portrayal of which Murillo excelled. The practiced eye of the Englishman realized the value of the treasure, and purchased it for the sake of the Murillo border. Subsequently in Paris he attended the sale of Marshal Soult's effects, and bought the head of a Madonna. Judge of his surprise when on removing it to his gallery he observed some signs which indicated that he had in his possession the center of the beautiful border he had secured in Spain. Using his knife carefully, he replaced the head in its proper setting and demonstrated that the one originally belonged to the other, and that he was the owner of a restored work of art by Murillo. This rejoined picture is known now by the name, La Vierge Coupée. This to me is a parable of the adaptation of Christianity to mankind. If the Author of the soul supplies it with a gracious. border, what we know of his work on the former will enable us to judge whether the latter is from his hand. They will not only exactly fit each other; but they will also correspond in spirit, tone, and depth, and when placed in true juxtaposition it will be apparent that they are alike his creation. Such a border is the Christian Faith, and it fits so perfectly to the soul of man and agrees so fully with its nature, that as the painting of the virgin bore eloquent testimony to the fact that the cherubs and clouds wherewith it had been inclosed were from the pencil of the great Spanish master, the soul bears witness in a similar way to the divine origin of Christianity. Luthardt formulates this argument when he says in "Fundamental Truths": Man is a question; the word of Christ is its answer. Man is an enigma, the word of Christ is its solution. . . In an algebra ical equation of three known quantities and one unknown, viz., X, the value of X being found, the correctness of the solution is proved by its perfect accordance with the other quantities. And the case here is exactly parallel. The word of Christ satisfies the equation of our nature; it is the solution of the X of the unknown quantity within us. In the same direction testified Napoleon. Bertrand in his "Memoirs," represents the emperor as saying: If once the divine character of Christ is admitted, Christian doctrine exhibits the precision and clearness of algebra, so that we are struck with admiration at its scientific connection and unity. The nature of Christ is, I grant you, from one end to another a web of mysteries; but this mysteriousness does but correspond to the difficulties which all existence contains; let it be rejected and the whole world is an enigma; let it be accepted and we possess a wonderful explanation of the history of man. The eye is adapted to the light, needs it, is sustained by it, and when permanently excluded from it slowly perishes altogether, of which we have an instance in the sightless fish which inhabit the waters of the sunless Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. Specimens from the underground river I have seen, and where the eye ought to have been there was apparently only the socket covered over with a film like a curtain drawn down over a window. The night had quenched the day and the need was for a day to expel the night. Probably such a day will never come to the blind fish; but has it come to man? He too cries for light. It is the burden of nearly all prayers, whether breathed by an Ajax, a Goethe, a Burns, or a Heine. But has there been an adequate answer from out of the eternities? There has been; and it is embodied and expressed in |