made. Besides these two realms, that of intelligence and that of organic growth, there is a third realm, that of the inorganic. The sea and the mountains exist to the ordinary mind as naturally as men and trees. The question. Who made all these things? is one that naturally occurs neither to the child nor to the savage. If it be asked. What, then, becomes of religion? the answer is, that religion, at first, is wholly unconnected with any idea of creation. Cosmogonies, though they may seem to us very ancient, are yet comparatively late in the history of religion. The later Vedic hymns have elaborate and sublime pictures of the origin of things, symbols more or less vague, hints of a great sacrifice from which the universe sprang, and awed and vague guesses as to the great mystery. But the earliest Vedic hymns take things as they are. At most, we have reference to the power that propped asunder the heaven and the earth. If heaven and earth are sometimes spoken of as created, they are also spoken of as the generators of the gods. And yet these Vedic hymns are comparatively a late development of human thought. The same fact is found in connection with other early religions. To the savage, his fetich is not made by his god. It is his god. Even in the Greek mythology, the divinities represented varied realms which they had not created. Neptune embodied the might and majesty of the ocean, Jupiter that of the heavens; but the sea and the heavens were as eternal as themselves. The classic cosmogonies like the Vedic formed no part of the original faith. They came when men were beginning to formulate their faith, perhaps to justify it. They were the result of conscious reasoning striving to magnify the might of the divinities, seeking to answer the great questions that come to the awakened mind as to the history of things. Men, when they have reached a certain stage of light, demand to know the whence and the how of all things. These questions are, at this period of development, as natural as they are inevitable. I do not mean, then, to slight the impulse from which sprang the cosmogonies, fanciful or sublime, to which reference has been made. I wish only to emphasize the fact that they grew out of the philosophic or scientific needs of

men rather than from the religious instincts. Religion existed and could continue to exist without their help.

This independence of religion of any theories of creation. is based upon the nature of religion itself. Religion springs chiefly from the recognition of the ideal nature of the universe. It has its root in the sense of truth, goodness, and beauty. Other elements may be blended with these. Superstition may mingle with them its darker shades, but from these has always sprung what is truest and noblest in religion. Men have felt moved to trust and worship. They have felt in the outer world the presence of what was kindred to themselves. Out of this sense of kinship to nature, out of the sense of the majesty of nature, of the brooding mystery which wraps it in, out of the awful law of righteousness and out of the entrancing joy of beauty, have sprung to a large extent the mythologies, fair or terrible; and from these have sprung also the loftiest and purest forms of religion.

Our profoundest thought justifies this nature and origin of religion. If God be really immanent in the universe, then religion should be the sense of a presence, rather than the knowledge of a history. God is worshipped as the informing, rather than as the creating, Spirit.

Granting all this, studies like those contained in The Theistic Argument have their place. If the ideal element, which is the object of religious feeling, exists in the universe, then it must always have existed, and have always manifested its presence. The ideal element must manifest itself in the history of the world as a teleological element. The presence and working of this teleological power furnishes a field of interesting study. It is manifested in the magnificent sweep of development as exhibited in the later theories of science more grandly than in the views which they replace. But we no longer seek in natural organisms traces of handiwork. That which grows is, by its very nature, the antithesis of that which is made. What we do find is the triumph of the ideal over the material. This is the life of nature. But this by itself would not furnish a Because nature is a whole, all its parts

basis for religion.

standing to each and to all in an organic relation, it does not follow that there is a God. It is the outcome of the process that shows us what its nature really is. It is because we find God at the end that we know that he was never absent. that he must have been at the beginning, if beginning there was. It is the heart of man that partly fin is him, and partly longs for him, that gives the real testimony to his being. The poet tells us that

-Only God can satisfy

The bears that God created.”

The complemental truth is suggested by the words: we know that God alone could have created the hearts that he alone can satisfy. The thought of God is thus needed less to furnish the beginning than the goal of history, whether it be the history of the individual or of the race. Because it furnishes the goal, therefore it alone could furnish the origin. Thus the study of the early history of the inorganic and the organic world may illustrate the faith which could not be based upon it. It is enough if we find this history in any degree conforming to what, from the nature of religious faith, we should expect.

What has here been said is meant simply to suggest the position from which The Theistic Argument and all similar works should be regarded. This is probably more free from the assumptions that have been referred to, and is thus more careful and critical than most volumes of its class. In particular we sympathize most warmly with the eloquent earnestness with which it more than once insists that the solution of the world's mystery is found at the summit rather than at the base of existence. Not in the forces of nature, not in the lower animal life, but in man, and in man at his highest, are we to seek hints and suggestions in regard to that which is manifesting itself in all these lower forms. But, we would add, it is not in man as an artisan or a contriver that these hints and suggestions are to be sought, but in the central life of man himself, in the spiritual presence and the informing soul.

C. C. EVERETT.

EDITORS' NOTE-BOOK.

THE MINISTERS' INSTITUTE.

When the suggestion of a Ministers' Institute was brought forward a few years since, its most hopeful supporters could hardly have expected that such success would attend their plan as was witnessed by the recent meeting at Princeton. In view of that success, it may not be out of place to call to mind briefly the aim and history of the Institute.

The great interest in the Saratoga Conference satisfied all strictly denominational purposes; but the rapidly increasing custom of conventions, representing every profession and occupation where the last results bearing upon them could be discussed by persons of the widest experience and best scholarship, brought with it the seeming necessity of some meeting where ministers, not of a sect merely, but as theologians, could discuss the questions of theology in a serious and confidential manner, where those most fitted by long study might declare the results which they had found in their special provinces, be questioned by those who were learners in the same branches, and where persons not theologians, but of authority in all those great social matters so inextricably woven into the interests of theology, might also come with their mature thought and advice.

Of course, difficulties of all kinds met an experiment in some respects so new; only those who had charge of the correspondence in regard to the first session know how varied the suggestions, how many the oppositions, how plentiful the forebodings of failure were. Nevertheless, the attempt was made, and the first meeting was held in Springfield, commencing the 9th of October, 1877. Although some of the writers were engaged only at the last moment, the papers were generally of good scholarship. Through the abundant hospitality of the parish at Springfield, the attendance was large, and at least a popular success was attained. Every one felt that if the ideal of the plan had not been reached, it was a beginning full of promise.

The experience gained by the first gathering made it easier to arrange for the second. Many persons began to see the broad

aim of the Institute, and to be won by it; still many perplexities attended it. Could we succeed at all without depending upon the hospitality of some large parish? If we accepted that, could we be quite as free as was desired, to follow out our plan? If we rejected that, could we find enough coming to our meetings as hearers to give any interest to them? If all denominations were represented, no one could be expected to offer entertainment; and, if one did, might it not be disturbed by the criticisms or the views coming from some representative men far enough from its position, but whose presence and voice the broad plan of the Institute would welcome?

From the very first, there was no desire but to find the most competent persons, unrestricted by any sectarian or religious affilations; but, for a long time, it seemed a vain hope to find any outside the little body which inaugurated the meeting to take part. Whether it was from the feeling that it was a gathering which had no real reason for its existence, and would soon be given up, or that it was too trivial to be noticed, or that so many in the larger sects had scholarly views in private they did not quite like to bring to a public discussion and examination, all invitations to take the subjects proposed were politely declined. The venerable and distinguished Prof. E. A. Park replied to the Secretary of the Institute asking him if it were possible to find some persons to take part: "Immediately after receiving your letter, I made some inquiries in regard to some orthodox man who would speak before the Ministers' Institute. The answers to my inqui ries were very much delayed, and were all, when they did come, of a negative character. I have not been able to think of any one who would comply with your wishes. Some give one reason, and some another, for declining."

In the midst of the consideration of these and many more questions, the time hastened on for the second session, which began at Providence on the 21st of October, 1879. Here the ideal plan, so far at least as the papers were concerned, was more nearly approached. The subjects and writers were arranged to give as far as possible the result of different schools of criticism, the social questions were brought into greater prominence, and the result was a volume of essays forming a valuable contribution to our theological literature. But the princely hospitality of the Providence parishes left little opportunity for the serious consideration of the papers, and the interest they aroused had to die away with their delivery.