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happened to be young at the time when the public | happened to tell us through monuments, records, or mind was in a restive and questioning mood.

My first design at present is to inquire in what sense "authority" is ascribed by the Church to the collection of documents which we call Holy Scripture. It will be my business also to indicate what, or how much at least, needs to be proved respecting Scripture, in order to make it reasonable for us to recognize in it such authority. It is impossible, within the limits of a lecture, to adduce the detailed evidence on which all, or even any, of those positions rest, which need to be proved before the authority of Scripture can be held to be scientifically established; but I shall be content if I can make it appear to you that the authority claimed for Scripture is a reasonable claim, and that it rests on evidence which is of the same nature as that on which other scientific results are based.

There are two, and only two, regions within which we can speak of the authority which one intelligence can exert over another. In each of these regions, the authority exerted in any given case may be either legitimate-that is, rational; or illegitimate and irrational. The first region is that of evidence; the second that of law. Authority in the first case rests upon superior knowledge; in the second, upon superior moral right. The one appeals to reason, and requires of us belief; the other appeals to conscience, and requires obedience.

We shall best appreciate the conditions of legitimate authority, in both of these spheres, by considering how it is exerted by one human being upon another.

In the sphere of evidence, for example, he who knows what I do not know occupies (so far) a superior position: he has the power of teaching my ignorance; and he has a right to be believed when he affirms what he knows, unless I have any valid reason for suspecting or impugning his veracity. This right to be believed is his authority as a witness. It is quite accurately to be called by the name of "authority," because it is not in my choice to believe or to disbelieve what a competent and honest witness affirms. I cannot refuse to believe on sufficient testimony, without offending both against the laws of my own reason, and against the rights of the witness. And so long as the thing told finds no support within my personal observation or consciousness --so long (that is) as my only reason for believing it is, that so-and-so has said it-the fact remains a fact of belief, and not a fact of knowledge. My informant knows in the strict sense; I do not know, I only credit. Now, it is quite evident that not only does this authority of evidence lie at the basis of all civil and criminal jurisprudence; not only is it the principle of all that portion of our education which is properly to be termed instruction; but it is that on which both history and science ultimately depend. As respects history, it is a familiar commonplace that we know nothing of past events save what contemporary men, who did know them, have

literary documents; and these we therefore term our "authorities" for that particular period. But it is the same with science. The innumerable facts on which every inductive science is reared have simply been observed somewhere by somebody, on whose word we know them. Those ingenious experiments by which nature is cross-questioned and hypotheses are tested, were simply made somewhere by somebody, whose record of them and of their results succeeding students accept on trust. It is true that we endeavour to eliminate such errors as human ignorance or prejudice may occasion, by repeating experiments and multiplying observations. But the advantage of being able to do so results entirely from the chance of error, which has to be reduced to a minimum. The fact once ascertained beyond question and recorded with accuracy, needs not to be again ascertained. It is accepted thenceforward on authority. No student of science does more than avail himself of the amassed inheritance of such recorded facts, and build his own new discoveries upon that foundation. Science itself could not advance beyond its infancy, except by resting apon authority.

SO.

You observe, however, that this sort of authority attaches only to facts, not to opinions, deductions, or theories based upon the facts. And for this reason, of course, that while the original observer or contemporary recorder has superior means of knowing the fact, he has, or may have, no superior power of drawing conclusions from it. We accept his witness to what we cannot know as well ourselves-thus paying tribute to him at that point where he is superior; but we reserve the liberty of revising his inferences, because in that respect our position may be as favourable as his own, or more It appears, therefore, that the authority of one intelligence over another in matters of belief-always granting the witness to be true-depends on his superior knowledge of the matter in question, and is limited by the limits of that superior knowledge of his. Authority of this sort is abused, or illegitimately applied, when we are asked to believe on unreliable evidence, or to accept the word of one who does not himself know what he affirms, or to credit a thing which is of its own nature incredible, because self-contradictory. But if we could suppose our informant's knowledge to be incapable of mistake, and his character to be incapable of deception, his authority would in that case be absolute. We should have no resource but to believe.

Let us turn next to the authority of law, which was the second species I spoke of. Human society is based upon the right of certain individuals to control within given limits the will of other individuals. When the ruling will expresses itself in a law, we have only to inquire whether the matter legislated upon transcends the legitimate sphere of the lawgiver's right; if not, his authority, being legitimately exerted, must be obeyed. This also is too familiar to need enlargement. The limits of parental authority, for example, are well

defined; and within them we recognize the duty of filial obedience. So also in the sphere of civil government. While in ordinary social life, wherever men cooperate in labour or business, there is a certain vaguer description of authority, conferred by capital, partly, and partly by skill, but limited (not destroyed) by contract, in virtue of which the employé obeys the order of the master, and the journeyman does his work at the bidding of the foreman. It is plain that authority in such matters of obedience turns on a certain superior moral right; and that in every case the limit of authority is fixed by the nature of that moral superiority, the possession of which carries with it a right to rule.

mind over mind, than Now, you will observe

Other kinds of authority by these two, I cannot imagine. that these two authorities, as exerted by one man over another, are both derivative and imperfect. Testimony among men is always imperfect, even when it is practically adequate for all our purposes; simply because knowledge and veracity are both imperfect in any given witness. Legislative rule among men is also imperfect, because the right to rule is a moral one, and cannot but suffer somewhat from the moral imperfection of the ruler. It is, however, of more consequence to see that even were men as perfect as men could be, their authority over their fellows would still be derivative, reflected, and second-hand. In the case of moral authority over the will, this is evident enough. It is clear that any man's right to sway another man's obedience, and be a sort of temporary and partial lord over his conscience, must be a delegated and subordinate right, drawn from Him who is the original Owner of all rights and Source of all law. Why do I obey you, father, king, or master, but because God empowered you to command, and enjoined it on me to obey? It is substantially the same with the authority of evidence. You come to me. to tell me of a single small fact, which you happen to know and I do not. Why must I believe you? Because you and I were both made by One who has perfect knowledge and is perfect Truth; because, on the one hand, he made you to know the fact in question, checks your relative knowledge of it by his own absolute knowledge, binds you to bear true witness to me, and will attest your witness or expose your falsehood by his own judgment; because, on the other hand, he made me capable of learning from you, chose you to be the bearer of a morsel of his truth to me, and requires me to yield you, as my brother, the fit measure of trustful and charitable credence. You testify, and I believe, under the eye and in the light of him who made you to be a truthful witness and me to be a believing learner. If you deceive me, he is my avenger; if I disbelieve you without reason, he is your avenger.

I think it follows from this, that the imperfect borrowed authority which one man exerts over the faith and obedience of another man, implies and throws us back upon some supreme authority, ultimate, underived,

and absolute, underlying all belief and all duty. This derivative human right to be credited and obeyed could not exist, unless behind every human witness and lawgiver there were One whose testimony, being infallible, must be absolutely believed; whose will, being supreme, must be absolutely done. He it is who really requires me to believe my brother when he speaks the truth, and to obey my father when he commands the duty; and if it were not for that authority of his sustaining theirs, neither brother's witness or father's command could have any authority at all over me. Herein is that word

of wide sweep-wide as the relations of man to man: "Thou couldest have no power [literally, no authority; John xix. 11] against Me, except it were given thee from above."

Suppose, now, that it were only possible for once and somehow possible-for man to be spoken to by God; to receive on the immediate and undoubted word of God himself a statement of fact, or of his will,-such a word from the Infinite Intelligence would carry an authority precisely similar in its nature to that delegated subordinate authority which attaches to all words of man: in nature, I say, precisely similar, only in degree indefinitely higher. The authority attaching to any communication which God might be pleased to make (supposing him to make any at all) would be either the authority of a Witness to something which He knows and we do not know; or the authority of a Ruler imposing his own will as a law for our actions. Other sort of authority there can be none. Take specially the authority of the Divine testimony (for it will be simpler to keep to that species, leaving legislation on one side). God's witness-bearing to facts lying beyond the bounds of human knowledge may conceivably relate either to external and material facts-such, for example, as the creation of matter; or to spiritual and eternal facts— such as the co-existence of Three within the Unity of the Godhead; or to what may be termed facts of the Divine consciousness-such, I mean, as what God feels towards man, what he designs to do in regard to us, what he is willing to give on our asking him, and the like. These, and such-like classes of facts, though they lie, like all facts, before the eye of Omniscience, are by their very nature undiscoverable by any man-at least, in our present state. Here, therefore, the Divine testimony must be alone and unsupported. From a region outside of human knowledge this solitary Witness comes, with a revelation of new facts which exist, and which we are to believe as existing on the authority of his bare word. Wherein does this authority differ in essence from that of any solitary adventurer who returns from newly-discovered lands, to report their geography and their flora, or from that of the savant who should alone observe the solar phenomena of an Antarctic eclipse? God forbid that I should appear to any one to institute irreverent comparisons; but I wish you to feel that the testimony of God (if only attainable)

must possess the very same kind of authority which belongs to his intelligent and moral creature-man; that authority, namely, which reason binds us to concede to superior knowledge when combined with veracity. Because it is when you feel this that you will not be frightened, as by a bugbear, at this word "authority" ascribed to Scripture. A mau is not supposed to abdicate the rights of his reason, or bow down in intellectual slavery to a dead letter, when he believes what Julius Cæsar has related of his campaigns in Gaul, or when he accepts the observations of Faraday or Darwin on physical facts. Caution and criticism have their place, to be sure, because self-love may warp the historian of his own exploits, and negligence may mislead the most careful observer. But the hesitation with which uncorroborated human evidence is received lessens precisely in proportion as the two disturbing elements-error and deception—are diminished. When their vanishing point has been reached-when the Witness is no longer capable of mistake, and his veracity is above suspicion-why should his authority become on the sudden an irrational bondage, or faith in his word a fond and unscientific credulity?

You will observe exactly what it is I am doing, so far. I am not now endeavouring to prove that my assumption a few moments ago was a correct one-namely, that the Almighty God has entered into the rank of witnesses, and borne his testimony in human speech to any facts lying outside the bounds of human knowledge. That is, indeed, what is claimed for revelation. It is a mighty, soul-shaking thought, that among the crowd of earth's erring witnesses, credulous, deceiving, and deceived, who yet must, on the whole, live by the faith they put in one another's words,-there has come the voice of One who cannot be misled and cannot lie-the voice of One by whose words of everlasting truth immortal souls may safely live. That, I repeat, is what is claimed for revelation; and I shall presently have something to say on the evidence by which it is to be proved. In the meantime, what I say is, that, supposing God could or did speak to man, his word would be either a witness to unknown facts or an expression of his own will; that it would have in either case the same species of authority which man's word has when he bears witness or expresses his will; and that submission to the authority of what was thus said by God would be as eminently rational, at least as much required by right reason, as the corresponding submission in the case of human speakers.

II.

CHRIST THE EVIDENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. In addition to these more modern causes of doubt, there are the two great difficulties which have always perplexed the human spirit when meditating on the truths of Scripture, and of the Creeds. The first is the view there given of human sin; the second, the sight which they give of the love of God.

When we read what is said in the Bible regarding human sin, we are all apt to think that the colours are exaggerated—that it is spoken of as something more heinous and less pardonable than is at all reasonable. On the other hand, when we read what the Bible says regarding the love of God, we feel that surely God has shown a love as unreasonably great as was his anger against sin, in thus sending his eternal Son to redeem mankind. These two difficulties are as old as Christianity, and have been felt in some fashion or another | by all who have meditated upon its truths. Nor can reasonings alone ever entirely overcome them; for, as the Bible tells us, only the Divine Spirit can give us an assured and peaceful subjective possession of the Divine revelation.

It is, however, the task of the apologist to endeavour so to present the truth that as many as possible of the difficulties, whether intellectual or moral, felt by the men of his generation, may be obviated or weakened in their force. The mode of the apologist's argument must necessarily vary with the times in which he lives. And in endeavouring to show how it is possible for the doubter to find a rational standing-ground, by means of which he may pass from doubt to faith, I should be disposed to place, not the miracles, as the apologist of last century would have done, but the Person who worked the miracles, in the front of my argument. I should say to the doubter, Read with care the gospel history. There you find the image of a Person whom it will be impossible for you to contemplate without an admiration so deep as almost to be reverential. The words spoken by Christ, too-do they not fall upon the heart with a strangely solemn and subduing power? You may have read the lives of many heroes, and listened to many beautiful words of wise men, but you will feel yourself moved and solemnized by the record of the life and words of Christ as by no other. Without a peer in the page of history, Jesus of Nazareth stands out as the perfected ideal of consummate holiness and purity—a Teacher, too, whose words are the deepest and wisest which ever proceeded from human lips. So much is generally admitted by sceptics themselves-by Rousseau, for example. But this Jesus, whose wonderful beauty and holiness of character make us almost involuntarily bow the knee before him, unquestionably made certain clear, definite statements concerning his relation to God and his relation to mankind. God, he said, was his Father, and he had been sent into the world, from a previous state of existence, to give his life a ransom for men. He was about to return to God, to a glorious state of existence; and in that state of existence he would prepare everlasting and glorious abodes for all who believed on him here. He asserted, moreover, in the most unequivocal terms, standing before his auditors in the garb of a Galilean peasant, that they would yet see him come in the clouds of heaven, surrounded by angels, to judge mankind.

How are we to deal with these statements of Christ?

Judge of mankind. This may be done by the candid doubter without much difficulty, because he has in his power the means of verifying these claims. This means of verification is the method of personal experience. Christ has said that every one who obeys his words, and puts his trust in him, will obtain certain blessings for his spirit. Peace, hope, and purity of soul will be granted to all who put their trust in him, and plead his name with God. Especially through trust in his atoning death will they obtain a peace of conscience, and a confidence in thinking of God, and in speaking to him, which the consciousness of sinfulness has previously prevented them from enjoying; and thus in a wonderful manner "will conscience-of all things in the world the most severe and implacable-be pacified." To go a

If they were untrue, he was either a deceiver or a fanatic. But it is not possible to believe that a Personage whom men have recognized to be the loftiest and purest Character who ever appeared among them, was also a deliberate liar and deceiver. Goodness and truth go together; and the instinct of mankind cries out against all attempts to separate them, and to call him good who, whether by the conscious fraud of imposture, or by the half-conscious fraud of fanaticism, deceives men. Fanaticism is, indeed, a species of fraud, and therefore it, no less than deliberate deceit, must be excluded. Fanatical imaginings, especially regarding one's self, grow on the soil of a character of vanity and ambition, and accustomed to practise habitual self-deceit. I know, indeed, no species of human character more repugnant to man's best instincts than the arrogant, self-step further, we are told in the New Testament that it glorifying fanatic.

Besides these general considerations, the gospel narrative speaks strongly against the idea of Jesus having been the dupe of fanatical imaginings regarding himself. There is about the fanatic a certain air and bearing which can hardly be mistaken: a fondness for display, a trembling excitement, a love of mystery. How unlike to all this was Jesus! Take, for example, the narrative of his arrest and trial. The quietness and the dignity, the gentle sadness, the want of all excitement, mark him as one who had perfect faith in the justness of his cause and the truth of his claims. Fanatical dreams pass into despair when misfortune overwhelms; but no misgiving was present to the mind of him who could say in his dying hour to the robber by his side, "To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise."

In order, therefore, to get rid of the monstrous paradox that the best and holiest of men was either deceiver or fanatic, we must accept as just and true the claims which he made to be the Son of God, the Redeemer and

is possible so to enter into fellowship with this Jesus, who, although unseen, still lives, that he will become to us as real a Personage as those are who live in our homes and sit around the same table. Is it possible to have these experiences in the nineteenth century? By putting the matter to the test, you can decide this for yourselves; and it appears to me that the character of Him who has solemnly assured men that they are realities ought to plead powerfully with the candid mind to make the trial. And if you do discover that such spiritual experiences as I have alluded to are realities, other difficulties will, for the most part, fall away of their own accord. If, for instance, you believe that Jesus, although unseen by mortal eye, can read the thoughts of your heart, and guide the inner springs of your life, you will not have much difficulty in also believing, with the evangelists, that he, to whom a power so like divinity now belongs, did, when he was upon earth, still the raging of the sea and feed the hungry multitudes by the word of his power.

BREATHINGS ON THE BORDER.-No. V.

BY ELIZABETH C. CLEPHANE.

ROM my dwelling 'midst the dead,
With my sins upon my head;

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All my heart within me stirred,
By the promise of that word:

When the bitter wind was rising, and the "Is it true?" I cried. "O Father, thou canst never

night was growing late;

"It is lone," I said, "and drear,

With the ghostly tombstones here;

And far off I see the glory and the light from heaven's

gate."

To that golden gate I crept,

Every step my full heart wept ;

look on me!

Me, a vile and wretched thing,

Wearied out with wandering."

Yet he said again, "My lost one, here is rest and home

for thee !"

Ah, full sore I needed both!

Yet to enter I was loath,

Weary, weary was the burden of my sorrow and my I, an outcast, scorned, unpitied, by the stranger passing

sin:

Little thought I it could be

That my Father spoke to me,

by,

I, a byword and a name

For a gulf of sin and shame,—

When I heard his voice, that called me by my name to I to stand with saints in glory, there to meet my Father's

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Yet his love had bound me so,

That I could not turn and go,

He has loosed me from my sin,
His right hand hath led me in;

Back to darkness, back to anguish, to my dwelling by I shall stand among his ransomed, I shall sing as angels

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A WORK OF LOVE IN A RUSSIAN VILLAGE.

A LADY'S NARRATIVE OF HOW SHE SPENT HER HOLIDAYS.
FROM THE CHRISTLICHE VOLKSBOTE, BASLE.

IN the north of Russia, while the winter is very long and severe, the fine season of the year is very short, and of a burning heat; therefore all who can, leave the dusty towns during the short summer, in order to lay in a stock of health and strength in preparation for the following nine months of cold.

Not being a landed proprietor, I have always to seek for some place where I may make the most of the summer while it lasts. I spent last vacation on a large and beautiful estate near Moscow, from the park of which there was an extensive view over a rich country dotted with villages.

Just outside the park, the Moskwa flowed along in its winding course, encircling the Kremlin as with a bright blue ribbon. On the other side of the river rose the numerous churches of the ancient capital, their gilded cupolas glancing in the sunlight. Were one to try to count them, he would be involuntarily reminded of the saying, that their number is forty times forty.

My two daughters and I occupied a house pleasantly placed in the park of which I have spoken, not far from the mansion of the proprietor. After we had explored many of the beautiful walks and picturesque spots of the neighbourhood, and tasted the pleasantness of the fresh air in the shady woods around us, we began to find that something more was wanted for our refreshment,-that we needed something to interest our thoughts and heart. As we passed through the villages, we saw whole troops of bright-looking children running about barefooted and idle. "They have plenty of spare time, as well as ourselves," we said; "perhaps it might be spent by us together to our mutual advantage. They would make good material for a village school," we thought; and from thinking we soon proceeded to acting. "Can you read, boys?" we asked, as we came upon a group one day. "No," they replied, after a doubtful pause, for they did not know what we might mean by making such an inquiry. "Is there any school in the neighbourhood?" Again "No" was the answer. "But Jacob can read a little," said a hearty little fellow, pointing to his elder brother. "He learned from the Diatschick "—that is, the church reader. "And what do you read, Jacob ?" I asked. "I read no longer," he replied, with an air of

importance; "there is too much to do at home, and
father can't do without me." The appearance of the
child did not quite agree with this self-important explana-
tion, but, without uttering my doubt, I inquired, "What
did you read?" "Church books; I can read nothing
else. It was very wearisome; and he pulled my hair and
ears. And then one had to pay for it." "Well, then,
children," I said, turning to the group, "would you like
to learn with us? We shall not pull your hair and ears,
and we shall not make your parents pay anything.
There are just two things you must promise,-to come
regularly every day at the appointed time, and to wash
your face and hands carefully." This last condition seemed
a very strange one to them. They looked laughingly at
their dirty hands, and one of them said they could easily
wash themselves from head to foot in the river. So it
was agreed that on the following morning the bathing
and the learning should begin. "But where must we
come?" asked the boys. We pointed out the house in
the park, which they knew very well, for they had often
taken strawberries there for sale, and they quite enjoyed
the thought of daily getting admittance to the pretty
park. So they went their way, and we hastened off on
ours, to get all made ready for our school. We had a
room which we could devote to it, and we procured a
long table and a couple of benches from the gardener,
and laid in a stock of paper and pencils, and nice copies
of the alphabet. So in the morning all was ready to be-
gin school, and the little band came in, bright and happy,
straight from their bath, with dripping hair.
The chil-

dren were all barefooted, and their whole clothing con-
sisted of a pair of linen drawers and a ragged shirt,
held together by a girdle, from which hung a small cop-
per comb. But they were pleasant children, with open,
intelligent countenances. We began with seven scholars
and three teachers, but by the end of the week our work
had doubled, for the boys had brought companions with
them, and we had to divide the older from the younger,
and opened a second class in the evening.

When we found that so many came, we thought we would try and have them on Sundays also, and see if we could not lead this little flock of wild and wandering lambs to the true Shepherd of souls.

Wild they were indeed, and uncultivated, for there

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