"old man" and a "new man," an "inner man" and another. And where the fervour of the religious imagination produced creations like these, it may easily be conceived to have spoken of two aspects of the one substance mind, as if they were two substances. These passages raise only one of the two questions over which the obscurity hangs. The other question-namely, that of the relation of man's spirit to God's spirit—is raised almost as soon as we open the Old Testament. In the more specific history of the creation of man, given in the second chapter of Genesis, it is said that "God formed man of the dust of the earth, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and he became a living soul." There are three stages in this process: first, God formed man of the dust, the most immaterial form of the material element of earth. Contrasting man's formation with that of the beasts, we find it to be the result of special purpose on God's part, and a particular independent act. The earth and waters, at the command of God, brought forth the other creatures ; but man's formation was a piece of distinct workmanship of God's own hand. Second, his body being formed, God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life. The word breath does not seem used, if one disputed passage be excepted, of the life-breath of other creatures besides men; but it is no easy matter to say what the language here employed means. The words breath of life must mean more than "breath which is the sign or expression of life," although, probably, no very sharp distinction was drawn between the source of life and the sign of it. Third, this having been done to man, man became a living soul. The soul lives, it is the bearer of life, within it all the functions of life go on, and all the phenomena of life are realized, and so Paul says: Man was made a living soul. But the breath or spirit does not live; it is the breath or spirit of life, what bestows life-"it is the spirit that giveth life." It would be altogether absurd to suppose that the author of this passage intended nothing more by the expression "breathed into his nostrils the breath of life" than that the Creator set in motion Adam's lungs, and caused him to begin to breathe atmospheric air, and thus be visibly a living soul or being. There is the same double use of words in Hebrew as there is in other languages, the word for breath and spirit being the same, a thing which must be due, as has been said, to a confusion of the sign of life with the source of life. Elsewhere this breath or spirit which God breathed into man is said to be the cause of intelligence in man: The breath or inspiration of the Almighty giveth them understanding--that is, is the source or subject of intelligence. And we must conclude that the author intended to teach in this passage of Genesis, that God breathed spirit into man, and man became a living soul. But what relation to God had this spirit which he breathed into man? Was it his own spirit! On the one side we might strictly adhere to the figure and say: No man breathes his own spirit, that essence whereby his own existence is continued, but only that whereby his existence manifests itself-namely, breath. And thus what God breathed into man must have stood related to himself as a man's breath is related to him. But, on the other hand, it is evident from the use of words that this distinction between breath and spirit was not sharply drawn ; and a passage just cited says that the inspiration of the Almighty is that in man which is intelligent. We are here, no doubt, to some extent dealing with figurative language; but it is very remarkable that this cardinal passage in Genesis does not speak of man's spirit as created, but as breathed into him out of God's own mouth. God drew man's being, so to speak, out of the depths of his own; man's spirit is that ethereal perfumed fire which is the breath of God. It is hoped that the relevancy of these statements to the subject of death and immortality, if it be not seen now, will appear by-and-by. It may in the meantime be enough to say that what is called the "soul" seems considered in Scripture the seat of life and of personality in man, and that, having been endowed with personality, it never loses this possession; for death, as it puts an end to the existence of no soul, puts an end as little to the existence of any person. When a man dies the soul departs from the body; if he be restored to life the soul returns to the body; if one be rescued from death his soul is said not to be left or given over to sheol—that is, the place of the dead, in such passages personified by the strong imagination of terror or love of life; but the disembodied persons in this place of the dead do not seem named in the Old Testament either souls or spirits. They are called by other names which describe the thinness, and flaccidity, and unsubstantial nature of their existence, but they are the same persons as they were above, however sadly "weak" they have now become. Again, that which is named "spirit" seems considered the source of life in man; it returns to God who gave it; its withdrawal causes death, and its partial withdrawal a diminution of the powers of life. The remainder of this paper may be occupied with bringing forward from the Old Testament some general views about death and the state of the dead. It might be surmised, from the strong expressions used many times of death in the Old Testament, that it was believed that in death personal existence came to an end. In Psalm cxlvi. 4, it is said: "His breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very day his thoughts perish." In another psalm, the thirtyninth, the suppliant prays: "Oh spare me, that I may recover strength, before I go hence and be no more." And in Job such expressions reach their climax: "And why dost thou not pardon my transgression? for now shall I sleep in the dust, and thou shalt seek me but I shall not be." "For a tree hath hope, if it be cut down, it will sprout again......But man dieth and wasteth away; man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?......man lieth down, and riseth not; till the heavens be no more, they shall not awake nor be raised out of their sleep." But these are only the strong expressions of despondency and of regret over a life mournfully soon ended, and that never returns to be lived on this busy earth again. The very name and conception of sheol is sufficient to remove the first impressions they produce. The term sheol is the Old Testament name for the place of the dead. The derivation of the word is uncertain. At first sight it seems connected with the word to ask, and it has been supposed that the name was conferred on account of the insatiable craving of the grave; as a prophet says: "Therefore 'hell' hath enlarged herself and opened her mouth without measure ;" and Agur, the son of Jakeh, one of the Wise, saith: "There are three things that are never satisfied, yea four things say not, It is enough: the 'grave;' and the barren womb; and the earth that is not filled with water; and the fire that saith not, It is enough." But such a derivation of the word is more sentimental than solid. Most probably the term is connected with a root that means to be hollow or to gape, yawn, and hence has itself the meaning of hollow, abyss, like our own word hell-that is, hollow. In the English version the word is sometimes rendered grave and sometimes hell, both unfortunate renderings; for, perhaps, the word never means the grave, and that additional idea of torment or misery which we associate with the expression "hell" forms no part of the meaning of this word. The Old Testament represents sheol as in every way the opposite of this upper sphere of light and life. It is "deep sheol :" "Thou hast delivered my soul from the lowest hell;" it lies deep down within the earth: "Those that seek my soul to destroy it shall go down into the lower parts of the earth." Corresponding to this, it is the region of darkness, as Job, looking forward to it, mournfully describes it: "A land of darkness as darkness itself, and of the shadow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darkness." Of course no formal or exact topography is to be sought for sheol. It is deep down under the earth, even under the waters, and dark, and all within it chaos. It is in great measure the creation of the imagination. Hence it is often decked out in the horrors of the grave. The prophet Isaiah represents the King of Babylon entering sheol, and occasioning no small stir among the shadowy persons there: "Sheol from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming.......Thy pomp is brought down to sheol, and the noise of thy viols: the worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover thee." And a later prophet says: "The strong among the mighty shall speak to him out of sheol. Asshur is there and all her company his graves are about him: all of them slain, fallen by the sword: whose graves are set in the sides of the pit.”Ezek. xxxii. 22, 23. According to this representation, sheol is a vast underground vault. with : cells all around like graves. But though sheol | distinguished arrival. It is the shadow of earth is sometimes painted in colours borrowed from the grave, it may be asserted that nowhere is the name used for the place of the body in death. Sheol is the place of departed personalities; it is the place appointed for all living, the great rendez-❘ vous of disembodied persons. The generations of one's forefathers are all there, and he who dies is gathered unto his fathers. The tribes of one's race are there, and the dead is gathered unto his people. Separated here, he is united with them there. And if even his own descendants had died before him, they are there, and he goes down to them, as Jacob thought to go down to his son mourning. None can hope to escape passing down into that universal gathering of those that have lived and are dead: What man is he that eth and shall not see death, that shall deliver his sol from the hand of sheol? The state of those in sheol.-As death consists in the withdrawal by God of the spirit of life, and as this spirit is the source in general of energy and vital force, the personality in death is left feeble and flaccid. All that belongs to life ceases except existence. Hence sheol is called Abaddon -"perishing;" it is called "cessation." The personalities crowding there are powerless, and drowsy, and still, and silent, like those in sleep. The state is called dumah, "silence":"Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in silence." It is the "land of forgetfulness "—"The living know that they must die, but the dead know not anything; also their love, and their hatred, and their envy, is now perished." To the Preacher this present life did not seem very charming; but it had at least one superiority to the state of the dead-"the living know that they must die, the dead know not anything." Yet other passages leave those in sheol in possession of almost all that they had here, though in a much impoverished condition. Those who greet the Babylonian king at his coming, though confessing themselves "weak," yet know themselves and others, and have not quite lost their love, and their hatred, and their envy. They seem to keep a kind of shadowy life of their own-a dreamy pomp and ceremonial, sitting with invisible forms upon imperceptible thrones, from which they are stirred with some flicker of emotion to greet any and its activities-wavering shades of the present There does not seem any distinction of good and evil in sheol. As all must die and pass into sheol, all are represented as being there. Sheol is no place of punishment itself, nor of reward. Neither does it seem divided into such compartments. The state there is neither blessedness nor misery; it is existence. "There the wicked cease from troubling (that is, from unquietness), and the weary are at rest. The small and great are there the same, and the servant is free from his master.” "To-morrow," said Samuel to the king whom God had rejected, "shalt thou and thy sons be with me......Then Saul fell straightway all along upon the earth, and was sore afraid, because of the words of Samuel." The dead know not anything, says the Preacher, neither have they any more a reward. There are a few passages from which it has been by some surmised, that there existed among Old Testament believers a belief of a deeper sheol than the ordinary; but probably the passages have been misunderstood or overpressed. In Isa. xiv., a passage so rich in contributions to our knowledge of Hebrew feeling concerning the things of the dead, the Babylonian king is threatened with a fate which looks like something more gloomy than that which befalls men in common-"thou shalt be thrust down to the sides of the pit;" but this strong expression is evidently used in antithesis to one which the monarch, in his towering ambition, had himself employed, when he proposed to "set his throne in the sides of the north, in the mount of God." And though the passage did mean, that he who presumed to seek to sit in the highest heaven should be thrust down into the lowest hell, all that can certainly have been intended to be expressed is the most extreme opposition between the arrogant hopes of the king and the actual issue of his history. Neither can the fervent prayer of Balaam, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his," have been dictated by anything which he feared after death, or by any faith which he had in a distinction between the destinies of the righteous and the evil in sheol. The meaning of his prayer is rather that he may live such a life as he sees before Israel, rich in God's blessings, and therefore peaceful and long, so that he might die old son. and full of days, and be carried to his grave in a full age, as a shock of corn cometh in in his seaNo doubt other thoughts began to arise towards the close of the Hebrew commonwealth, and gradually acquired strength and consistency, and were in full currency by the time of our Lord; but these may be alluded to afterwards. So far as the canonical Scriptures of the Old Testament are concerned, sheol is represented as the common rendezvous of all, the evil and the good alike. There is a good deal more that needs to be added in order to present anything like a fair view of the general impressions prevailing in Old Testament times on the state of the dead. But this paper, besides being heavy, has attained its legitimate length, and what more has to be said must be reserved for another. OUR FATHER'S LOVE: A STORY OF LONDON STREETS. CHAPTER II. GETTING A LIVING. FTER Mrs. Sanders was buried, people | Mrs. Sanders had been, she had always contrived to go A seemed to forget all about Susie. The landlord called for his rent, and Susie paid hini, which was all he wanted, so he did not trouble himself to inquire whether she was living alone or had any one to take care of her; and Elfie had told her not to say anything about it unless she was asked. Elfie was rather proud of her new mode of livinghaving a roof to shelter her at night, a little spot she could call home,-and-she honestly believed Susie could not get on without her; and the feeling that she had some one to take care of, made her more careful of the things which were placed under her charge in the market. But in spite of her care, and the extra employment it often brought her, the rent money could only be made up sometimes by Susie going without food the day before, for she could not eat the rubbish and refuse Elfie seemed to enjoy. A breakfast or dinner of raw pea-shells Susie could not eat above once or twice; and the stale fruit that Elfie brought home for her often made her ill, so that if she could not afford to buy a loaf, she often preferred being hungry to the chance of being ill and unable to work. But the greatest trouble of all to Susie was the different way in which she spent Sunday. She missed her mother more on that day than any other; for poor as to church and take Susie with her, until she came to Fisher's Lane, and was unable to go out on count of illness. Elfie, however, had no other idea of Sunday than of a day to play more and eat less; for as there were no steps to clean or baskets to mind, and very little refuse to be found about the market, she generally lay down to sleep feeling very hungry on Sunday night. Susie always folded up her work and put it away early on Saturday, that she might have time to clean the room, just as her mother had done; and so Elfie, finding her companion was not going to do any needlework on Sunday, persuaded her to come out to play, and for the sake of pleasing her Susie went. But the rough noisy games of Elfie's companions Susie could not enjoy, and she was glad to sit down in a quiet corner and think of her mother, and the bright home she had gone to. Then she thought of their walks to church, and what she heard there, and how grieved her mother would be if she could see her now playing with these children, until she felt strongly inclined to run off to church now if only she knew her way. She resolved not to go out to play again on Sunday; and when the next came round, she said, "Do you know your way to church, Elfie?" "To church!" repeated Elfie; "they won't let us play there." "No, I don't want to play," said Susie, looking down at her shabby frock, and wondering whether that was fit to go to church in. "I want to do as mother did, and she always went to church on Sundays." Elfie looked puzzled. "Church ain't for poor people like us," she said. "Oh yes, it is. Mother used to say she could never bear the trouble at all, if she could not go to church and get some help from God for it on Sundays." "Eh? it's all along of the tables and chairs, and sleeping in beds, I suppose," said Elfie, a little disdainfully. “Church has nothing to do with tables and chairs," said Susie. "We go there to hear about God and the Lord Jesus Christ." "Well, there ain't no God for poor people that don't have tables and chairs," said Elfie. “Oh, Elfie, don't say that; God loves you, and wants you to know and love him." "What! wants me to go to church?" asked Elfie. Susie nodded. "Come with me, will you?" she said eagerly. Elfie laughed. "Catch me trying it, won't you; and there's a policeman walking up and down in front all the time." "But the policeman is not there to keep people from going in," said Susie. "What does he walk up and down there for, then?" asked Elfic quickly. Susie could not answer this question, but she said, "Well, I know he don't keep people out." "Not fine people that's got tables and chairs at home. God wants them in there perhaps, and so he gives the police orders to let 'em in. I know all about it, you see," she added triumphantly. But Susie shook her head. "No, you don't," she said. "God wants us to know and love him-you and me, Elfie." "I know them police that stands at the door, and that's enough for me," said the girl. "You can go if you like. Church, and tables, and chairs, and eating off plates, and sleeping in beds, is all one, I guess; and them that gets used to it can't do without it. But I can, and I shan't run to the police for that." But although Elfie would not go with Susie, she willingly consented to show her the way; for she had not been to a church in this neighbourhood, and only knew the road to take the work backwards and forwards. So, after carefully washing her face and brushing her hair, and making herself as tidy as possible, Susie went out, carrying her prayer-book in her pocket-handkerchief, and trying to fancy that her mother was with her still. Elfie would not come near the church; but after pointing it out, and watching Susie go in, she ran back to play with her companions, wondering all the time what could be going on inside the church to make Susie so anxious to go there. This was her first question when she met her as she came home. "What do you look atwhat do you do," she asked, "when you go to church?" "We pray and sing, and hear what the minister says," answered Susie. "What does he say?" asked Elfie. Susie thought for a minute, and then answered, "Well, he reads out of the Bible, and says 'Our Father.' You know that, don't you?" But Elfie shook her head. "Who is 'Our Father'?" she asked. "God, who lives up in heaven, where mother's gone," answered Susie. "He's your Father, then, I suppose," said Elfie. "Yes, and yours too," said Susie quickly. "No, he ain't; I don't know him," said Elfie, shaking her head with a little sigh. "But he knows you, Elfie-knows you, and loves you, and wants you to love him." But Elfie shook her head persistently. "I don't know nothing about him, and nobody ever loved me," she said; and, to end the conversation, she ran away to finish her game of buttons, while Susie walked quietly home. She ate a slice of dry bread for her dinner, and saved one for Elfie; and then took her mother's Bible out of the little box, and sat down to read a chapter just as she used to do before her mother died; but the sight of the familiar old book upset all her firmness, and she sat down with it in her lap, and burst into tears. She was still crying when Elfie came rushing in to ask if she would not come out and join their play. "What's the matter?" she exclaimed when she saw Susie in tears. "Are you so hungry ?" she asked-for hunger seemed the only thing worth crying for to Elfieand then, seeing the slice of bread on the table, and guessing it had been left for her, she put it on the Bible, saying, "You eat it, Susie; I've had some cold potatoes, and I ain't very hungry now." But Susie put it back into her hands. “No, no, Elfie; you must eat that," she said. "I'm not crying because I'm hungry.” "What is it then?" said Elfie. Susie looked down at the book lying in her lap. "I was thinking about mother," she said. "Are you getting tired of living with me?" asked Elfie quickly. "Oh no; you're very kind. I don't know what I should do without you, Elfie; but I do want my mother," said Susie through her tears. Elfie looked puzzled. She was beginning to understand that all the mothers in the world were not like hers; that Susie's was not; and she could not understand why Mrs. Sanders had gone away and left her. "What made her go away?" she asked. Susie left off crying to look at her companion in sur"Don't you know God took her to heaven?" she prise. said. "Yes, I know you said that before," auswered Elfie impatiently; "but what made him take her?" "Because he loved her," said Susie. |