Chapter XIV (2)

The Rev. G. Rawlinson, in an able lecture in defence of the Bible, published by the CHRISTIAN EVIDENCE SOCIETY of London, acknowledges that there are matters of uncertainty in some parts of the Old Testament history, and says, 'The time allowed by the common version of the Bible for all the events which took place from the days of Noah, to the birth of Christ, and for all the changes by which the various races of men were formed, by which civilization and the arts were developed, etc., is less than 2,600 years. Now this is quite insufficient. How is this difficulty to be met? We answer; a special uncertainty attaches to the numbers in this case. They are given differently in the different ancient versions. The Samaritan version extends the time 650 years. The Septuagint extends it eight or nine hundred years. If more time still be thought wanting for the development of government, art, science, language, diversities of races, etc., I should not be afraid to grant that the original record of Scripture on this point may have been lost, and that the true chronology cannot now be ascertained. Nothing in ancient manuscripts is so liable to corruption as the numbers. The original mode of writing them was by signs not very different from one another, and thus it happens that in almost all ancient works, the numbers are found to be deserving of very little reliance.'

But the errors and uncertainty with regard to numbers amount to nothing. They do not affect the Bible as the great religious instructor of the world.

The sun has its spots, dark ones and large ones too; and the face of the moon is not all of equal brightness; but are the sun and the moon less useful on that account? Do they not answer the ends for which they were made, and are not those ends the most important and desirable imaginable? Cavillers might say, if the sun and moon were made to be lights of the earth, why are they not _all_ light, and why is not their light of the greatest brilliancy possible? But we too have a right to ask, Do they not give us light enough? And is not their light as brilliant as is desirable? Will the caviller prove that the sun and moon would be greater blessings if their light wore more intense, or more abundant? Men may have too much light as well as too little. If light exceeds a certain degree of intensity, it dazzles and blinds instead of enlightening. It is well to have a little warmth, but if the heat be increased beyond a certain point, it burns and consumes, instead of comforting and cheering.

The disposition of the caviller is anything but enviable, and if God were to take him at his word, his lot would be anything but comfortable. Happy are they who accept God's gifts as He presents them, with thankfulness, and use them in His service faithfully, rejoicing and trusting in His infinite wisdom and love.

What a man wants in a book are instruction, impulse, strength, correction, regeneration, consolation, lessons fit to furnish him to every good work, something to give pleasure, supply exercise for his intellect, conscience, affections: and the Bible is all.

If God may employ an imperfect and fallible man to preach for him, allowing a portion of his imperfections to mingle with his message, why might He not employ an imperfect and fallible man to write for Him, allowing a portion of his imperfections to mingle with his writing?

The following is from the BISHOP OF LONDON.

'The vindication of the supernatural and authoritative character of the Bible has too often been embarrassed by speculative theories not authorized by the statements of the Bible itself.'

'It is no reply to the essential claims of the Bible to be a supernatural revelation from God, to show that certain speculative theories concerning the manner and degree of its inspiration are untenable.'

From whose works the following quotation is made, we do not remember.

'The watchword of the Reformation was, 'The sufficiency of the Scriptures for salvation.'

'Definite theories of inspiration were seldom propounded till of late years.

'The Bible is a revelation of spiritual truth communicated chiefly in illustrations and figurative language, and making use of the history, chronology, and other sciences of the age, as vehicles or helps. This principle will explain those seeming contradictions [to science] which result from the use of popular language, as when the sun and moon are said to stand still, or when the sun is said to go from one end of the heaven to the other, etc. It will also account for many actual errors in science, chronology, and history, should such be found to exist. The Scriptures were not intended to teach men these things, but to reveal what relates to our connection with moral law, and the spiritual world, and our salvation. In teaching these things, the writers availed themselves of the _popular_ language, and the current science and literature of the age in which they lived. As in the present day a man may be well instructed in Christian doctrine, and have the unction from the Holy One, while ignorant of the teachings of modern science, so likewise it was possible to those who first received religious truth and were commissioned to declare it. The presence of the Holy Spirit no more preserved men from errors in science in the one case than in the other. One may as well seek to study surveying in a biography of Washington, as the details of geology or chronology in Genesis.

'The proper test to apply to the Gospels is, whether each gives us a picture of the life and ministry of Jesus that is self-consistent and consistent with the others; such as would be suitable to the use of believers.

'Many of the apparent contradictions of the Bible may be explained by the mistakes of transcribers, or in some other way equally natural; but, as the Bishop of London has well remarked, 'When laborious ingenuity has exerted itself to collect a whole store of such difficulties, supposing them to be real, what on earth does it signify? They may be left quietly to float away without our being able to solve them, if we bear in mind the acknowledged fact, that there is a human element in the Bible.'

'What if many of the numbers given in Exodus should, as Bishop Colenso asserts, be inaccurate? What is to be gained by assertions or denials relative to matters which have for ever passed out of the reach of our verification? And what if, here and there, a law should seem to us strange and unaccountable; an event difficult to comprehend; a statement to involve an apparent contradiction? What has all this to do with the essential _value_ of the Book. Absolutely nothing, unless thereby its [honesty] truthfulness can be set aside.

'If error were _cunningly interspersed_ with truth in the Bible, the case would be different. But it is _not_ so. The Book, as a whole, and as it stands, is wholesome and useful; each portion of it has its proper place, and is adequate to fulfil its appointed end. But everything in the Book does not take hold alike on the heart and conscience. It may be very interesting, as indeed it is, to trace on the map the various journeyings of St. Paul, or the wanderings of the children of Israel in the wilderness; to note a hundred designed coincidences, etc. Yet all this may be done without the slightest moral or spiritual benefit to the man who does it. And, of course, all this may be left undone by others without the slightest spiritual loss or disadvantage.'

The following may be our own.

The great thing is to use the Scriptures as a means of instruction in religious truth and Christian duty, and as a means of improvement in all moral excellence and Christian usefulness.

Set the doctrine of Scripture inspiration too high, and people, finding that the Scriptures do not come up to it, will conclude that the doctrine is false,--that the Scriptures are not inspired,--that they do not differ from other books,--that divine revelation is a fiction,--that religion is a delusion,--and that the true philosophy of life and of the universe is infidelity. And the Scriptures do _not_ come up to the doctrine of inspiration held by many. It is impossible they should. _No_ book written in human language _can_ come up to it. What they say an inspired book _must_ be, no book on earth ever was, and no book ever will be. And infidels see it, and are confirmed in their infidelity. And others see it and become infidels. And Christians argue with them and are overcome. And others are perplexed and bewildered, and obliged to close their eyes to facts, and though they cling to their belief, they are troubled with fears and misgivings as long as they live.

If men would be strong in the faith, and strong in its defence, they should accept nothing as part of their creed but what is strictly true.

There are passages which speak of the sun smiting men by day, and there is one at least which speaks of the moon smiting men by night, and both, for any thing I know, may be literally true. But suppose it were proved that neither the sun nor the moon ever smites men, would my faith in Christianity, or in the divine inspiration of the Bible, be shaken thereby? Not at all. Nor would it destroy or weaken the effect of the passages on my mind in which those allusions to the sun and moon occur. I should still believe in the substantial truth of the passages, namely, that, day and night, the good man is secure under the protection of God.

A man says that he has lately been under 'disastrous influences.' Literally, the words disastrous influences mean the influences of unfriendly stars. But there are no unfriendly stars. Then why does he use such an expression? Because, though it does not now in its current meaning refer to the stars at all, it means calamitous, unfavorable, influences. I do not believe that the sun like a strong man runs a race: I believe its motion is only apparent,--that the _real_ motion is in the earth. But do I therefore question the divine inspiration of the Bible which uses that expression? Not at all; for the words are substantially true. And so in a hundred other cases.

And so in passages of other kinds. It does not matter to me whether the account of creation in Genesis answers literally to the real processes revealed by Geology, or whether the account of the flood answers exactly to past facts. Both accounts are perfect as lessons of divine truth and duty, and that is enough.

Those who undertake to prove that every passage of the Bible is literally true, must fail. If they _were_ all literally true, they would never have done. There are more difficult passages, and more apparent little contradictions, than any man could go through in a life-time. I would no more undertake such a task than I would undertake to prove that every leaf, and every flower, and every seed, of every plant on earth is perfect, and that each is exactly like its fellows. God's honor and man's welfare are as much concerned in the one as in the other. They are concerned in neither. The leaves, the flowers, and the seeds of plants are right enough,--they are as perfect as they need to be,--and I ask no more. And the Bible is as perfect as it needs to be, and I am satisfied.

The following is abridged from a work entitled CHRISTIANITY AND OUR ERA, by the Rev. G. Gilfillan of Scotland.

Mr. Gilfillan speaks of it as a 'Generally admitted fact, that there is a human, as well as a divine element in Scripture,' and adds, 'that this should modify our judgment in considering perplexing discrepancies and minor objections. There are spots in the sun; there are bogs on the earth; and why should the perplexities in a book, which is a multifarious collection of poetico-theological and historical tracts, written in various ages, and subject, in their history, to many human vicissitudes, bewilder and appal us? The candid inquirer will be satisfied if, from the unity of spirit, the truth and simplicity of manner, the majesty of thought, the heavenliness of tone, and the various collateral and external proofs, he gathers a _general_ inspiration in the Bible, and the general truth of Christianity. Logical strictness, perfect historic accuracy, systematic arrangement, etc., could not be expected in a book of intuitions and bursts of inspiration; the authors of which seemed often the child-like organs of the power within. It seemed enough that there should be no wilful mis-statements, and no errors but those arising from the inevitable conditions to which all writings are liable. The skeptic who proceeds to peruse the Bible, expecting it everywhere to be conformable to the highest ideal standard--that there shall be nothing to perplex his understanding, to try his belief, or to offend his taste, will be disappointed, and will either give up his task, or go on in weariness and hesitation. On the other hand, if he be told to prepare for historical discrepancies, for staggering statements, for phrases more plain than elegant, and for sentences of inscrutable darkness, he will be far more likely to come to a satisfactory conclusion. And the apparent dark spots will only serve to increase the surrounding splendor. We therefore cry to the skeptic who purposes to explore the region of revelation; 'We promise you no pavement of gold; you will find your path an Alpine road, steep, rugged, with profound chasms below, and giddy precipices above, and thick mists often closing in around, but rewarding you by prospects of ineffable loveliness, by gleams of far-revealing light, and delighting you with a thousand unearthly pleasures. _Try_ this pass, with a sincere desire to come at truth, and with hope and courage in your hearts, and you will be richly rewarded, and the toils of the ascent will seem to you afterwards only a portion of your triumph.'

One writer gives the following definition of inspiration. 'A supernatural, divine influence on the sacred writers, by which they were qualified to communicate moral and religious truth with authority.'

This is tolerable.

Another writer says, 'It is a miraculous influence, by which men are enabled to receive and communicate divine truth.'

This too is tolerable, notwithstanding the word miraculous.

Another writer says, 'There has been a great diversity of opinions among the best men of all ages, as to the nature and extent of Bible inspiration.'

He might have added, that these opinions have generally been nothing more than opinions,--mere fancies, theories, framed without regard to facts.

Another writer says, 'It should be remembered, that the inspiration which breathes through the Book is not of a scientific, critical, or historical character, but exclusively religious.'

He means, that while inspiration makes the Bible all that is desirable as a teacher on religious matters, it does not, on other subjects, raise it above the views of the ages and places in which it was written. For he adds, 'The sacred record is not in every respect faultless. It is not free from literary, typographical, and other defects. Nature herself, where no one can deny the finger of God, has imperfections. The Book presents the same characteristics as the best and highest of God's other gifts, namely, not the outward symmetry of a finite and mechanical perfection, but the inward, elastic, and reproductive power of a divine life!'

The meaning of this latter vague and wordy sentence seems to be, that the inspiration of the Bible is such as to make it a powerful means of producing spiritual life,--real religion; but not such as to preserve it from little ordinary human errors and imperfections.

This writer represents Dr. Stowe as saying, 'Inspiration, according to the Bible, is just that measure of extraordinary Divine influence afforded to the sacred speakers and writers, which was necessary to secure the purpose intended, and no more.'

This too we can accept. It does not authorize us to expect of the Bible, or require us to prove with regard to it, any thing more, than that it is adapted to be the religious and moral instructor of mankind.

This same writer represents Dr. Robinson as saying, 'Whenever, and as far as, divine assistance was necessary, it was always afforded.' This too is tolerable.

One writer says, 'Divine inspiration cannot be claimed for the transcribers or translators of the original Scriptures.'

We think it can. We see no reason to doubt, but that many of the transcribers and translators of the Scriptures were as much under the influence of the Holy Spirit,--the spirit of love, and truth, and all goodness,--as the original writers. Our impression is, that the common version is as truly the work of divine inspiration, as any book on earth.

One writer says, 'The language of the whole Bible is that of appearances. In drawing illustrations from nature, the writers could not have been understood, unless they had used figures and forms of speech based on nature as popularly understood. Hence the heavenly bodies are spoken of as revolving round the earth, the ant as storing up food in summer, and the earth as being immovable, all of which are now known to be contrary to [strict] truth.'

This writer, like some others, feeling as if he had gone too far in uttering words so true, contradicts them a few pages after, and makes a number of statements which remind one of what the Apostle says, about handling the word of God deceitfully. One would be tempted to charge him with 'cunning craftiness,' only his craft is not very cunning. When religious teachers act so unfaithfully, they have no right to complain if people lose all confidence in their honesty.

We grant, however, that the temptation to keep back the truth on this point is very strong, and we must not be hard on the timid ones. It is not always a fear of personal loss or suffering that keeps men from speaking freely on religious subjects, but a dread of lessening their usefulness, of hurting the minds of good though mistaken people, or of disturbing and injuring the Church.

But it is no use trying to cheat unbelievers. You cannot do it. They will find you out, and be all the more suspicious and skeptical in consequence. We must deal with them honestly; tell them nothing but what is true, and use no arguments but what are sound and unanswerable. Advocates of Christianity have made numberless unbelievers by teaching erroneous doctrines, and by using weak and vicious arguments. The Christian should so speak and act, that it shall be impossible for any one ever to find him in the wrong.

The following is probably our own.

The historical difficulties of the Bible amount to little. They do not affect its scope and tendency, as a moral and spiritual teacher. Nor are they inconsistent with the doctrine that the Scriptures were given by inspiration of God, as that doctrine is presented in the Scriptures themselves. They may be inconsistent with the views of Scripture inspiration taught by certain Theologians; but all we have to do is to set the views of these Theologians aside, and content ourselves with the simple teachings of Scripture.

Now the doctrine of Scripture inspiration as taught by the Scriptures themselves, gives me no authority to expect the Scriptures to be free from historical and scientific errors, or from any of those so-called imperfections which are inseparable from human language or from human nature. It authorizes me to expect that the Scriptures shall aim at my moral and spiritual instruction and salvation, and that they shall be adapted to answer that great end. It authorizes me to expect that the body and substance of the Book shall be true and good, and that a spirit of wisdom and purity and love shall pervade the Book, giving it a rousing and a sanctifying power. It authorizes me to expect in it all that is necessary to bring me into harmony and fellowship with Christ, to fill me with His spirit, to change me into His likeness, to enable me to live as He lived, and to labor as He labored. It authorizes me to expect in the Bible all that is necessary to comfort me in affliction, to give me patience, to sustain my hopes, and to support and cheer me in the hour of death. And all this I find in infinite abundance. I find it in a multitude of forms,--forms the most touching and impressive. I find it presented in the plainest, simplest style. I find in the Bible an infinite treasury of all that is holy, just and good,--of all that is beautiful, sublime, and glorious,--of all that is quickening, renovating, strengthening,--of all that is cheering, exhilarating, transporting,--of all that I can wish for or enjoy,--of all that my powers can comprehend,--of all that my soul can appropriate and use. I find in it, in short, riches unsearchable, beyond all that I could ever have asked, or thought. And what can I wish for more?

God has given us no perfect teachers, no perfect preachers, no perfect churches; why should we suppose it necessary that He should give us a perfect book? He has not given us any perfect books on medicine, on diet, on trades, on politics, on farming, on gardening, on education, or on poetry. Why should we expect Him to give us one on religion? As a matter of fact, He has not done so. Our common Bible is a translation. So are all the common Bibles in the world. And all translations are imperfect. The translations are made from Greek and Hebrew Bibles, and those are all imperfect. The Greek and Hebrew Bibles are compiled or formed from Greek and Hebrew manuscripts. But these also are imperfect. They all differ from each other. And no one can tell which is nearest to the originals, for the originals are lost. So that whether there was an absolutely perfect Bible at first or not, there is no such Bible now. God Himself has so ordered things, that all the Bibles in the world, like all the preachers, churches, and teachers, share the innocent imperfections of our common humanity.

Suppose the original Bible to have been perfect, and to have been preserved from destruction, only one person could have possessed it. The rest would have had to be content with imperfect human copies. God might Himself have written perfect Bibles for all mankind, but He did not choose to do it. Or He might have made perfect copies of the original Bible, but He did not choose to do even that. He might have employed a few legions of angels in making copies of the Bible; but _that_ He did not do. He left the work to be done by men, and men have done it, as they do all their work, imperfectly.

Still, they have done it well enough. The poorest manuscript Bible in the world is good enough. The most imperfect Greek and Hebrew Bible is good enough. The poorest translation is good enough. It is so good, we mean, that those who are able to read it, may learn from it all that is necessary to make them good, and useful, and happy on earth, and to fit them for the blessedness of eternal life in heaven.

There is a sense in which no translation of the Scriptures is good enough, if we can make it better; and we have no desire to prevent men from doing their best to improve the translations in all languages as much as possible. But do not let them make the impression that a perfect translation is necessary or even possible; for it is not. God has caused the Bible to be written in such a way, He has put all important matters of truth and duty in such a variety of forms, that any translation, made with a reasonable amount of learning and honesty, is sure to make things intelligible enough in some of the forms in which they are presented in the Book.

The Bible, like the Church and the Ministry, is a great mixture of the human and the divine. There is not a single book, nor a single passage perhaps, in the whole volume, in which the weaknesses of man and the perfections of God are not blended. Everywhere we have revelations of the divine glory, and everywhere we have manifestations of human imperfection. We have human errors side by side with divine truths. We have neither a perfect teacher nor a perfect example in the whole Book, but one; and of that one we have not a perfect record, either of His teachings or His life. We have nothing but brief, imperfect, fragmentary records of either. They are perfect enough; but they are very imperfect. And Moses, and the Prophets, and the Apostles, are perfect enough; but they are all imperfect. The Bible is perfect enough; but it is, according to the ordinary meaning of the word, still imperfect.

We do not need perfection, we do not need infallibility, in anything; and we have it not. Imperfection is better, and that we have in everything.

And all this is in keeping with God's doings in other cases, 'The inspiration of the Holy One giveth man understanding;' but does not make his mind infallible. Christians 'have an unction, an inspiration, from the Holy One, and know all things:' and yet they do not know all things; but only those things which pertain to God and Christ: and even their knowledge of these is acquired not all at once, or without the use of means; but by degrees only, and by the faithful use of their natural powers.

The Apostles were not machines. Their inspiration did not take away their liberty, or suspend the use of their natural powers. Nor did it teach them natural science, or history; or lift them above ordinary, innocent errors. Nor did it cause them to learn all Christian truth at once. They gained their knowledge by degrees. Some imagine, that the moment the Apostles received the Spirit on the day of Pentecost, they were perfect and infallible; whereas it took them nearly ten years to learn that they were to preach the Gospel to the Gentiles. They had the words of Christ, 'Go ye into _all the world_, and preach the Gospel to _every creature_;' yet it required nearly ten years, and a special vision, to make them understand that _every creature_ included the Gentiles.

Nor have we any proof that the Spirit ever made the Apostles infallible in every little matter. Paul says, when speaking of the resurrection, 'That which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die.' Now the truth is, that the seed from which the harvest springs, does not die. It simply expands and unfolds. His doctrine was right, but the notion on which he grounded his illustration of it was an error. But it answered his purpose. And there is a sense in which seed dies. It ceases to be a seed in becoming a plant.

Bishop Watson says, 'a grain of wheat must become _rotten_ before it can sprout;' but that is not the case. It ceases to be a mere grain to become a plant; but it does not become rotten; it remains alive and sound.

The Apostle is an able minister, a glorious interpreter of Christ and His doctrine; and there is nothing seriously amiss in his illustrations; but several of them are based on prevailing misconceptions.

Some say, 'If the Apostles were not infallible in everything, their writings would be of no use to us. If they might err in one thing, they might err in others, and we could have no certainty of the truth of anything.' But that is not true. On one occasion, Paul says, 'I knew not that it was God's high-priest.' And on another, he says, 'I baptized none of you but Crispus and Gaius.' Afterwards he says 'I baptized also the house of Stephanas:' and he finishes by saying, 'I know not whether I baptized any other.' Will you say, 'If Paul could be ignorant or mistaken about the high-priest, or the number of persons he had baptized; he might be ignorant or mistaken on every subject?' The truth is, a man who was so much taken up with great things, would be sure to think but little of small things. His determination to know nothing but Christ; would be sure to keep him from wasting his time or strength on trifles. A man's ignorance on some points is often proportioned to his knowledge on others. And Paul is all the more trustworthy on great matters of Christian truth and duty, because of his indifference to matters of little or no importance. And say what we will, the Apostles were not infallible on every point, and they never professed to be so. They professed to be inspired, and inspired they were, but they did not profess to be wholly infallible, and it is certain they were not so.

And the admission of the truth on this point, will _not_ destroy our confidence in them on others. We may believe that the Apostles were fallible on matters of little moment, and have the fullest assurance possible that they were right on matters of great importance.

The Apostles themselves were sufficiently assured of the truth of those impressions which they had received about Christ through their eyes and ears; yet neither the eyes nor the ears of man are always or absolutely infallible. I have myself mistaken blue for green, and yellow for white; and I recollect two occasions on which coal or jet, seemed, at a distance, in the sunlight, as white as snow. And I have often thought things to be moving, which were at rest; and things to be at rest, which were moving. Yet I have the fullest confidence in my eyes. I have sometimes been mistaken with regard to sounds. I have thought a sound to be near, when it was far off; and I have thought a sound to be far off, when it was near. And I have often mistaken one sound for another. Yet I have all the confidence I need to have in my ears. Both eyes and ears may need the help of the mind at times; but the mind is always at hand with its help. In short, I know that all my senses are fallible; yet on every point of moment I have all the assurance, with regard to things sensible, that is needful to my welfare.

And so with regard to religious matters. There is nothing like omniscience,--nothing like infinite or absolutely perfect knowledge or infallibility in any man: yet every one may have all the information and all the assurance on things moral and spiritual needful to his comfort and salvation.

Our assurance of the truth and excellency of Christian doctrine rests on something better, surer, than theological and metaphysical niceties. You who fancy that your strong and heart-cheering faith rests on theological theories, and that if those theories were exploded, it would perish, are, happily, under a great mistake. Your faith, and hope, and joy, rest on the harmony between Christianity and your souls. My faith and trust in the outward world, and my infinite appreciation of its arrangements, rest, not on any philosophical theory; but on the wonderful, the perfect adaptation of every thing to my nature, to my wants, to my comfort and welfare. Nature answers to me, fits into me, at every point. I am just the kind of being nature was made for; and nature is just the kind of world my being requires. They match. They answer to each other exactly, all round, and make one glorious and blessed whole. And this is the secret of my trust in nature.

And so it is with regard to Christianity and my soul. They are made for each other. They fit each other. My soul just wants what Christianity brings; and Christianity just brings what my soul requires. It answers to my soul, as light and beauty answer to the eye, and as sound and music answer to the ear, and the whole of nature to the whole of man. There is neither want, nor superfluity, nor disagreement. Christianity and my soul, like nature and my physical being, are a glorious match. They are one: as I and my life are one. Christ is my life. Christ is my all. And He is all that my soul requires or desires.

And this is the ground of the good Christian's faith. It is not external or historical evidence; it is not metaphysical niceties or theories; it is not the endless mass of jarring evidences of any kind which lie in misty, musty, dusty volumes on the shelves of dreamy, doting divines, that makes you feel at rest in Jesus; but Jesus Himself, whose fulness just answers to your wants, and whose life and love just make your heaven. It is just that, and nothing more.

There is a story of a judge who was celebrated for the wisdom and justice of his judgments, but often censured for the weakness or folly of the reasons which he gave for them. Many Christians resemble this judge. They make a wise and worthy profession of faith; but when they attempt to give reasons for their belief, they betray the most lamentable ignorance. They _have_ good reasons, but they cannot put them into words. They do not always know what their reasons for believing are. The reasons they assign are not their real reasons. They believed, and believed on good grounds, for sufficient reasons, years before they heard of the reasons they give for their belief to those who question them on the subject. The reasons they assign did not at first convince them, and they are not the kind of reasons likely to convince others. And it would be better if, instead of assigning them, they were to say: 'Well; I do not know that I can tell you the reasons why I believe the Bible; but I have reasons. I am satisfied my belief is right. I am satisfied the Bible is the right thing for me. I meet with things in it that make me feel very happy. I meet with things in it that will not let me do wrong; that will keep impelling me to do right, to do good. I meet with things in it that support me in trouble; that make me thankful in prosperity; that fill me with good thoughts, good feelings, good purposes, good hopes, great peace, sweet rest, strong confidence, and a blessed prospect of a better life. I like the Bible God: He is a great protector, and a blessed comforter. I like the Bible story about Jesus, and all the glorious things it says about His love and salvation. In short, the Bible is a great part of my life, my soul, my joy, my strength, my being, and I don't know what I could do without it. I cannot argue. I don't know the reasons why I believe. But the Bible just suits my soul, and I am inclined to believe that the world would be a dark place, and life a poor affair, without its blessed revelations and precious promises.'

Now in speaking thus, most men would really, without knowing it, be giving the reasons or grounds of their faith. The great reason really is, the perfect adaptation of the Bible to their nature and wants. They believe unconsciously and unthinkingly in the divinity of nature, on account of the wonderful adaptation of its provisions to their natural wants. They believe in virtuous love, and honorable marriage, and family life, and natural affections, and friendship, and society, and government, and law, on similar grounds. The reasons of their faith are real, and good, and strong; but like the roots of a tree, they are low down, out of sight, under the ground. They do not reflect on them, dig them up, bring them to the light, and give them a critical examination.

This internal evidence is gaining favor day by day. It is preferred by the ablest modern writers to all others. It was the evidence that vanquished the infidel socialists of five and thirty years ago. It is the evidence that makes our modern infidel advocates wince and waver. They hardly think it necessary to notice the historical evidences. They know that they seldom get hold of men's hearts. But they cannot afford to despise the internal evidences. They are a real power. Thousands are touched by a sight of Jesus as presented in the Gospels, for one that is moved by arguments from miracles or prophecies. Even the miracles of Jesus owe their chief power to their benevolent character.

The ablest American writer on the Evidences of Christianity, Rev. Mark Hopkins, makes the moral and internal evidence almost everything, and the external ones next to nothing.

The Rev. F. C. Cooke, Canon of Exeter, in his lecture before the Christian Evidence Society of London, says, 'The one great evidence, the master evidence, the evidence with which all other evidences will stand or fall, is Christ Himself speaking by His own word. It is the character of Jesus that makes men feel that He and His religion are divine. It is this that warms men's hearts, and wins their love, and produces a faith full of life and power. Other evidences apart from this leave men cold, and indifferent, or opposed to Christ.' But more on this point hereafter.