Chapter IX: Special Providence and Prayer (1)

"England's thinkers are again beginning to see, what they had only
temporarily forgotten, that the difficulties of metaphysics lie at
the root of all science."--J. S. MILL.

The most sharply defined issue between Science and Religion--in fact, the only real issue at the present time--is in regard to the doctrine of Special Providence and the efficacy of Prayer.

These are not in reality two distinct questions: they are but opposite phases of one and the same question. The doctrine of special providence is the _theoretic_ aspect, and the doctrine of the efficacy of prayer is the _practical_ aspect of the Christian doctrine of the relation of God to nature and man. We can not, therefore, discuss the practical question apart from the theoretic; neither can we reach any decisive conclusions in regard to either unless we start with clear and well-defined conceptions of the fundamental relations between God and nature, and between God and man.

We shall assume the existence of God as the common postulate of all religion and of all philosophy. If this be denied, then all discussion of the present question is useless, because we have no common starting-point. But it will not be denied, we think, that the vast majority of scientific men are agreed that the idea of God is the necessary presupposition of all those branches of science which concern themselves with "genetic problems"--that is, with problems of origin; and which, strictly speaking, are not problems of science, but of philosophy. These scientists may not all choose to employ the term "God," but they will all recognize, with Mr. Spencer, the existence of "an unconditioned Cause" as "the ultimate of all ultimates," and they will admit with him that the First Cause must be infinite, absolute, and perfect, "including within itself all power and transcending all law."[405] Mr. Spencer calls this idea of a First Cause "a datum of consciousness;" and he asserts that this "inexpugnable consciousness, in which religion and philosophy are at one with common-sense, is likewise that on which all exact science is founded."[406]

Taking this fundamental presupposition as generally conceded--namely, the existence of a Power which is unoriginated and independent; a Power which is conscious of itself and determines itself; a Power which transcends all law and is the source of all law--the question at issue may be thus stated--_Have our prayers any influence with this Power?_ Can they in any way affect the Divine feeling and action toward us? Do they have any indirect influence upon that succession of events in nature and history which is effectuated and determined by that Supreme Power? This is the real question at issue between science and religion.

Nothing need be said to deepen our sense of the importance of this issue. We all regard it as one of the vital questions of the hour, the most vital question for religious men, yea, the most vital question for scientific men, inasmuch as there are moments of sadness and sorrow, of doubt and mystery, when man feels that his only refuge is in prayer, and, science or no science, he must pray. But if there is no living God to sympathize with us in our sorrow and help us in our deepest need, or, which amounts to the same thing, if God is so completely environed by laws which He has Himself enacted, and so imprisoned in his own works that He can do nothing to aid us, then prayer is an illusion, and instead of being in any way beneficial to us, it inflicts a deep and irreparable injury upon our intellectual and moral life. If there is nothing in the universe but mechanical force and necessary law; if there is no freedom and no moral purpose, then prayer for help and succor and guidance is a conscious or unconscious deception practiced by the soul upon itself, and the sooner we are undeceived the better; for of all deception the most pernicious and depraving is that which a man practices upon himself. We could not even accept the cold apology for prayer which was made by David Hume, that it may have a wholesome reflex influence upon the mind of the worshiper, and be a good way of preaching to ourselves.[407] There can be nothing useful or helpful in the belief and practice of a lie. No accession of moral force or moral purity can come from doing any thing in which we do not believe. If there is any moral value and any real helpfulness in prayer, it must be based upon a _rational_ belief that the Divine mind is accessible to the supplication of his creature, and that the Divine will is moved thereby. "He that cometh to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him."

Humbly professing this belief without any reservation, and regarding it as a perfectly rational belief, we proceed to defend it against certain so-called scientific objections, and to consider certain difficulties which present themselves to the minds of scientific men.

We have said that there is a _real_ issue between science and religion as to the efficacy of prayer. The statement is not strictly correct, and we amend it by saying that the issue is not between science and religion, but between certain men who study and teach science and certain men who study and teach religion. For, as Mr. Murphy observes, "The antagonism between science and religion themselves is purely imaginary. The antagonism between the men who study and teach science and the men who study and teach religion is unfortunately sometimes real, though it is the fashion [just now] to exaggerate it; but so far as it is real it is an accident of the present time, which will disappear, and indeed is already visibly disappearing."[408]

No man is in a position to affirm that there is an antagonism between science and religion until he has first clearly determined the sphere and function of each, and can say distinctly _what science is and what religion is_. He may have utterly misconceived the nature of religion, or he may have misapprehended the function of science, and therefore the supposed antagonism may be purely imaginary. For example, Herbert Spencer says, "Every religion may be defined as an _à priori_ theory of the universe."[409] If this definition were correct, we could easily conceive how religion and modern science might come into collision, because the tendency of science at the present time is to occupy itself with "questions of origin"--that is, with "theories of the origin of things," instead of being, as Spencer defines it, "a systematic collection of facts, ascertained with precision, and so classified and generalized as to reveal the uniform relations of co-existence and succession among phenomena, and thus give _prevision_." This is the legitimate sphere of all that science which can lay any claim to be regarded as "exact science." When it transcends this limit it ceases to be science and becomes philosophy--a philosophy which will be more or less valid and legitimate as it recognizes the authority and submits to the guidance of _à priori_ ideas of the reason.

But is Mr. Spencer's definition of religion correct? We think not. Indeed, it would be difficult to give a definition of religion wider from the mark. He might with just as much propriety have said that religion is an _à priori_ theory of the origin of language, of government, of trade, or of music. Either Mr. Spencer must have made this definition for an unworthy purpose, or he must be in utter darkness as to the nature of religion. One needs only to cast a hasty glance over the history of ancient religions, or to consider with an unprejudiced mind any of the contemporaneous forms of religion, to be convinced that religion is, and always has been, a mode of life determined by the sense of dependence upon a Supreme Power.[410] Religion has always been a matter of practical interest and personal concernment, and has no more to do with "theories of the universe" than with theories of light, or theories of electricity, or theories of political economy.

The separate spheres of religion and science have been admirably defined by James Martineau in a few words--"Science discloses the _Method_ of the world but not its cause; religion [or theology] discloses the _Cause_ of the world but not its method. There is no conflict between them except when either forgets its ignorance of what the other alone can know."[411] This is well said, and directly to the point. Religion, or more properly theology (for theology is the objective correlate and piety the subjective correlate of religion), teaches _what God is_, what are his attributes, what are the moral and spiritual relations which subsist between God and man, and what are the duties which arise out of these relations. Science teaches _what nature is_, and what are the relations and laws of natural phenomena. Science is the co-ordination of phenomena. Here no conflict can arise. The truths which are taught by each rest on their own appropriate evidence, and they are capable of verification by direct or indirect reduction to experience--the facts of science to external experience, and the facts of religion to internal experience. These experiences can not, in the nature of the case, be contradictory, because religion deals with one class of facts and science with another. Such being the case, the scientist may be as certain of the reality of religion as of the reality of science--that is, he may be directly and immediately conscious of the same feeling of reverence, the same sense of dependence, the same feeling of obligation, and the same loyalty of soul toward the unseen "Power which makes for righteousness,"[412] which is experienced by the unscientific believer. This is frankly avowed by Dr. Tyndall. He says, "The facts of religious feeling are to me as certain as the facts of physics;" and he refers with evident emotion to a period in his earlier years when he "prized the conscious strength and pleasure derived from moral and religious feeling." "Give me," he says, "their health, and there is no spiritual experience of those earlier years, no resolve of duty or work of mercy, no act of self-denial, no solemnity of thought, no joy in the life and aspect of nature which would not still be mine."[413] We doubt not that there are thousands of scientific men who to-day might bear the same testimony.

Here the question will suggest itself, How, then, comes it to pass that there exists any antagonism between the teachers of science and the teachers of religion? We answer, the antagonism has arisen on that debatable ground which lies between the two, where speculative thought, whether from the stand-point of religion or the stand-point of science, seeks to form definite conceptions of the relation between God and nature, to bring our outer and inner experiences into a higher unity of reason, and to construct "_à priori_ theories of the origin of things."

We do not presume to say that these metaphysical speculations are either futile or improper. But what we do insist upon, and beg the reader distinctly to note, is that these speculations are neither _scientific_ nor _religious_, and that neither true science nor true religion is responsible for them. They are not religious, even though indulged in by theologians; because religion is solely concerned with the personal consciousness of our relation to God, and the discharge of our personal duty to God, and not in the remotest sense with any theory as to the method of causation in the world around us. It is equally certain that these speculations are not scientific, even though indulged in by scientists; because science deals only with phenomena, and the laws of phenomena; and it is a fundamental canon of all scientific induction that no problem is to be mooted unless it can be presented in terms of experience, and no principles are to be admitted which can not be verified by experiment. But the modern speculations respecting the _origin_ of motion, of life, and of mind can not be presented in terms of sensible experience, and can not be verified by actual experiment. So far as sensible experience goes, every case of physical motion is a transformation of energy, and every new physiological unit or aggregation of units is derived from pre-existent bioplasm. And so Dr. Tyndall, in the speculations in which he indulges, in the now celebrated "Inaugural Address" delivered at Belfast, particularly in regard to the origin of life, admits that he "_oversteps the boundary of the experimental evidence_;" therefore, by his own admission, these speculations are _unscientific_.[414] These discussions are inevitable, and even valuable. We would protest as earnestly as Dr. Tyndall against the attempt of any man to set limits to human thought, but we would equally protest against the attempt to pass off the results of speculative thinking in any direction as "exact science." True science is itself dishonored and discredited by all such attempts.

We have said that it is solely within the field of speculative thought that all controversy has arisen concerning the doctrine of special providence and the efficacy of prayer. This will be apparent from the consideration of the fact that from the dawn of speculative thought to the present hour two radically opposite theories of the origin of things have prevailed--one _mechanical_, the other _vital_.

The vital theory regards nature as the product and the continued work of an ever-living and ever-creating Spirit, who is the immediate fountain of all force, and the immanent life of all that lives. It looks upon the universe "as the manifestation and the abode of a Free Mind like our own," who realizes his thoughts in its collocations and adjustments, embodies his ideals in its typical forms, and by his free volition subordinates nature to the higher purposes of intellectual and moral life--the formation of noble human characters. In a world so constituted prayer is a real power, and human character is a free development through the power of prayer which influences that ever-present Will that sustains our life.

The mechanical theory regards the world as a huge machine supplied with motor power in the primal act of creation, and then left to make its own history according to rigid laws of mechanics and "the multiplication table." There is no "Power which makes for righteousness," and no purpose of love mingling in the necessary order of things. Evolution is the only law of creation; there is nothing spontaneous, nothing free. All the processes of nature, all the forms of life, all the facts of consciousness, all the sympathies, sacrifices, joys, and sorrows of social life, and all the noble or ignoble deeds of history, are only mechanical functions which can be weighed or measured, and catalogued in tables of statistics. Inflexible necessity, inexorable law, absolute uniformity, unbroken continuity tell the story of the universe. In such a world there is no place for prayer, or at most it is but the cry of anguish wrung from the lips of those who are being mangled and crushed by the ponderous mechanism, which floats away into the infinite spaces, and never finds a living ear or touches a compassionate heart. Then, as Dr. Hedge puts the melancholy case, "We must rough it as best we can with driving-wheel and fly-wheel, and trust that the power may not fail and the gearing foul in our short day."

This is the position of some, but by no means of the majority of the scientists of our time. We venture the assertion that it is no part of the doctrine of modern science, neither does it follow as a logical consequence from any of the accepted principles of modern science, nor does it reflect the real feeling of the best exponents of modern science.

Dr. Tyndall stands as one of the most popular exponents of scientific knowledge, and may be regarded as a fair representative of the feelings of many scientific men. And in his estimation "the problem of problems of our day is to find a legitimate satisfaction for the religious emotions." He admits that these religious emotions are inexpugnable facts of human nature, as certain and as incontestable as the facts of physics. Now what is meant by a _legitimate_ satisfaction of the religious emotions? Does it not mean that human reverence must have a _real_ and a worthy Object? that for human duty there must be an imperative ground of obligation? that for true loyalty of soul to truth and right there must be an eternal reason? and that the instinctive trust of the soul in everlasting righteousness and everlasting love must have a rational vindication? Where shall we look for this object? "May we look upward and onward, or have we nothing to do but yield to the pressure from behind and below?" What conception are we to form of that mysterious Power or Principle which stands in necessary correlation with the religious nature of man? Dr. Tyndall permits us "to fashion this conception as we will"--with that "he has nothing to do;" only he demands that in doing so we observe two conditions: 1. "Be careful that your conception is not an unworthy one;" "invest it with your highest and holiest thoughts." 2. Allow "no intrusion of purely creative power into any series of phenomena," no arbitrary interference with the order of nature "for special purposes." The first condition would be violated by our conceiving that Power as purely _mechanical_, for then the sublimest interests of our moral and spiritual life would be surrendered to the action of the same force as that which draws a stone to the earth. The conception of unconscious and unmoral force is not our highest and holiest thought--it can not inspire reverence and loyalty and love. The second condition would be violated by our regarding that Power as _arbitrary_--that is, as following no law; for that would be opposed to all the inductions of modern science, and would invalidate all conclusions based on the assumed permanence of natural laws. The problem, then, is to steer between the Scylla and Charybdis of mechanism and arbitrariness, and find the open sea where freedom may move in harmony with law, and where, in the grand hierarchy of laws the physical order of the world may be co-ordinated with, perhaps subordinated to, the higher reign of righteousness and love.

The solution of this problem can only be reached through the discussion of the following questions: 1. What are "the facts of religious feeling" involved in this problem, and what are the necessary correlatives of these facts? 2. What are the facts concerning the order of nature involved in the problem, and what are the logical inferences from these facts? 3. How can the conception of the _Force_ which is manifested in the phenomena of nature be brought into harmony with the idea of _God_ as revealed in the religious consciousness?

1. First, then, what are the facts of religious feeling which "as experiences of consciousness are perfectly beyond the assaults of logic," and what are the necessary correlatives of these facts?

We present first of all the incontestable fact that _prayer is natural to_ man. Like our instinctive belief in the being of God, the accountability of man, and the immortality of the soul, we have also an instinctive prompting to pray, and an instinctive belief in the efficacy of prayer. This is an essentially human characteristic; it is common to all men. Man has been defined in many ways, as "a rational animal," "a social animal," "a tool-using animal," "a language-speaking animal;" with more justice may he be called "a _praying_ animal," for prayer is a universal characteristic and fundamental differentia of man. Never has the traveler yet found a people which did not pray. Tribes of men have been found without houses, without raiment, without letters, without science, but never without prayer any more than without speech. This was remarked by Plutarch eighteen centuries ago,[415] and the researches and explorations of modern travelers and ethnologists have added confirmation to its truth. The flow of prayer from human lips is just as natural as the flow of speech. Is man in danger or in sorrow, his most natural and spontaneous refuge is in prayer. The suffering, bewildered, terror-stricken soul that knows not where to fly, flies to God. There are few men, probably no men, who in moments of extreme peril or intense anguish can resist the impulse to pray. Nature is stronger than all our logic; and, science or no science, the cry for help will rise from the lips of even skeptical men.[416]

We ask that these facts may be fully considered and fairly estimated. The instinctive tendency to pray is a universal fact of human nature, as valid and as significant as any fact in physics. It presents as rightful a claim to be taken account of in our theories of the ultimate constitution of the universe as the First Law of Motion or the Conservation of Energy. If we disregard it, our _Systema Mundi_ will be one-sided and partial, and, instead of being a philosophy, will be only a caricature.

We do not claim that the presence in man of this instinctive tendency to pray proves the efficacy of prayer--that is, proves the existence of a living God and Father who hears and answers prayer. But it does establish a strong presumption in favor of the doctrine; for how comes it to pass that the sentiment is so perennial and so universal? Either it was originally implanted in the soul of man by the Creator, or there exists something in the constitution of nature--the "relation between the organism and its environment"--which determines this feeling in man, and in either case it must be regarded as normal, and as essential to humanity. If nature teaches us to pray, and, as it were, compels us to pray, then we are justified in the assumption that there is nothing in the ultimate constitution of nature which can contradict her own ordinances and render prayer an absurdity.

The next fact to which we desire to direct attention is that _prayer is an essential element of life_--we do not mean physical life, but that which gives significance and value and completeness to human existence--namely, ethical and spiritual life. That religion is deeply seated in the nature of man, and, in fact, ineradicable, is conceded by Dr. Tyndall. "No atheistical reasoning," he says, "can dislodge religion from the heart of man. Logic can not deprive us of life, and religion is life to the religious. As an experience of consciousness, it is perfectly beyond the assaults of logic."[417] This general admission that man has a religious nature, a religious consciousness, is important. The bearing of this upon our argument will be obvious when we have considered more particularly the nature and content of this "religious consciousness." In what does it consist? Into what elements is it resolvable by psychological analysis? We answer, religious consciousness is a consciousness conditioned by the idea of God, and involves a sense of dependence; a feeling of reverence; a sense of obligation; a sentiment of loyalty; a conscious community of nature; and a longing for a deeper fellowship with the _Divine_.

Every thing around us and every thing within us makes us conscious of limitation and dependence. We know that our own existence is not self-originated or self-sustained. We have the sense of an immanent all-pervading Life which sustains and conditions our life. We have the sentiment of an overshadowing Power and Presence which compasses us behind and before, and lays its hand upon us, and we are constrained to bow in reverence and awe before that Power which controls our destiny. With the sense of dependence is associated the feeling of obligation to conform our conduct to the will of this Supreme Being, and to subordinate the ruling purpose of our life to the Divine purpose of creation so far as that purpose can be known. There is also more or less loyalty of soul to what is just and true, a natural and constitutional sympathy of reason with the law of God--"it delights in that law," and "consents that it is good." Finally, there is the consciousness of some community of nature between God and man, and some living susceptibility to the influences and inspirations of the higher world which authorizes the belief that there may be a communion of thought, a relation of conscience, and an approach of affection between the Divine and human that shall purify and elevate our nature, and lift us up into a resemblance to God.

The bearing of all that we have just said on the necessity of prayer will have already suggested itself to the reader. The feeling of dependence, the sense of feebleness will prompt man to pray. Man is not sufficient for himself. He is not fit to be his own all in all. He has not resources within himself to supply his own spiritual wants. He needs some external succor, some support to the will, some inspiration from without. And he can become a strong man and a noble man only by aspiring and striving after something beyond and above himself--

"Unless above himself he can
Erect himself, how mean a thing is man!"

When his affections and cares and thoughts all centre upon himself, his soul shrivels down to a dreary selfishness, and becomes a dry microscopic point, or else a mass of putrid sensuality. Man needs a lofty object above himself, after which he may aspire and upon which he may lay hold and lift himself into a nobler form of life. That lofty object is the ideal of a _perfect, noble human character_. "The formation of noble human character," says Mr. Murphy, "is the highest work that man or, so far as we know, that God can be engaged in."[418] The thoughtful mind recognizes that there is a purpose to be fulfilled in life which is nobler than mere enjoyment. Who has dared to say that our highest duty is to be happy? But every one must feel that it is our highest duty to form a nobler character and let the happiness take care of itself.

And now is it not a fact of experience that the more a man strives after a pure and noble life, the more does he become conscious of the need of superhuman strength and grace? He finds that he has to wage an uncompromising, sometimes even agonizing warfare against hereditary "taints of blood," against morbid instincts and low passions, against inherent selfishness and meanness, against tyrant habits engendered in the recklessness of youth, against the temptations of designing men and abandoned women, and the false sentiment, despotic opinion, and arbitrary customs of modern fashionable society. In the presence of these giants of evil with their fetters of iron he stands appalled, and against himself, against his temptations and sins, even against society itself, he feels he must _call upon God for help_. Through Divine strength he may conquer; without it--never. There are those who hope to conquer evil through a certain inherent force of nature, or a certain self-caused and self-attained culture. We do not dare to say that they will utterly fail, or that what they achieve is utterly valueless. But we do say that the character they develop is not the highest style of excellence. There is in it a boldness bordering on audacity, a self-sufficiency akin to haughtiness, and an arbitrariness which is repulsive. The very basis of a noble character, the very essence of that prophetic power which has exerted the mightiest influence on the destinies of man, is humility. The loftiest and finest minds have been eminently trustful--men of heroic confidence who derived their inspiration and confessed their dependence on the light and strength which come from above. These are the men who really shape the history of the world,[419] these are the men who command the esteem and win the reverence even of unbelievers. We can not illustrate this point better than by quoting the words of Dr. Tyndall in regard to Michael Faraday. Faraday, it is well known, was one of the greatest of modern scientists--it ought also to be as widely known that he was a devout Christian. Tyndall dined with Faraday, and on that occasion Faraday "said grace."

Tyndall writes: "I am almost ashamed to call his prayer a 'saying' of grace. In the language of Scripture, it might be described as the petition of a son into whose heart God had sent the Spirit of his Son, and who, with absolute trust, asked a blessing from his father. We dined on roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and potatoes; drank sherry, talked of research and its requirements, and of his habit of keeping himself free from the distractions of society. He was bright and joyful--boylike, in fact--though he is now sixty-two. His work excites my admiration, but contact with him warms my heart. Here surely is a _strong_ man. I love strength, but let me not forget the example of its union with _modesty_, _tenderness_, and _sweetness_ in the character of Faraday."[420]

This, then, is the point we desire to emphasize. It is a fact of experience that prayer can give calmness, purity, and strength of soul. It can lighten perplexity and sorrow. It can empower us to resist temptation, and enable us to overcome sin. It can give "modesty, tenderness, and sweetness" to character. In a word, it can aid us materially in the formation of a noble human character.

Noble character can only be formed under two conditions. First, it can only be formed under the condition of _freedom_. The unfree is the unmoral.[421] There can be no dignity and no moral worth in action which results from mere mechanical force. Personality alone has responsibility, dignity, and worth. If, then, moral personality has true freedom and self-determination, we are free to pray, and God is free to answer prayer. We may believe that the physical world is held in iron bands of necessary causation, but we can not believe that the moral world is so bound. The human will is free, and the Divine will is free. "The First Cause," says Mr. Spencer, "includes within itself all power"--therefore alternative power--"and transcends all law"--therefore it can not be necessitated. We can not doubt that Mr. Tyndall would freely accord this position. He might hesitate, he would unquestionably refuse to unite in "prayer for rain," for example, because he holds that the fall of rain is governed by changeless physical laws, and "no act of humiliation, individual or national, could call one shower from heaven;" this would be a miracle, and "the age of miracles is past."[422] But we do not see how he could refuse to unite in the prayers of the National Church for the forgiveness of sins, for strength to overcome sin, for fortitude to endure, and for consolation under the afflictions and sorrows incident to human life.

The second condition necessary to the development of noble character is that man shall be capable of receiving inspiration from the great source of all life, especially of all spiritual life. The universal belief of our race that there is a community of nature between God and man, expressed alike in the words of Aratus, the Asiatic poet, Cleanthes, the Stoic philosopher, and Paul, the Christian teacher--"_We are the offspring of God_"--justifies the further expectation and hope that there may be a real communion between the human and the Divine. Of course this is fundamentally "a question between Theism and Atheism, between a God and no God," between a conscious Being and an unconscious Force. If there is a personal God, then He may communicate with our souls which dwell, as it were, within the ocean of his immensity, and are surrounded and interpenetrated by his living presence. Then there may be a real sympathy, a loving fellowship, and a sanctifying communion. Even should science forbid the Author of nature to interpose in the slightest degree in the procession of phenomena or modify in the least the action of the so-called natural forces, surely it will not be so "audacious"[423] as to forbid that He shall come near to human souls, and interpose in the moral order of the world to deliver man from sin and purify and elevate human society. Here at any rate science is out of its place. It is guilty of that very presumption with which it is evermore charging the theology of the Middle Ages, viz., the attempt to monopolize the whole field of human knowledge and experience. If the good man does feel that God is with him and in him, if he knows by experience that prayer is an act of Divine communion--that it opens to him an unfailing fountain of refreshment, solace, and strength; if he is conscious that it does lift him up to a larger and more blessed life, then even science, which boasts its rigid adherence to the inductive method, and its unswerving loyalty to fact and experience, must obey the Divine injunction--"Be still, and know that I am God." "I dwell with him that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite."

2. We come now to the consideration of the second question, What are the facts concerning the order of nature which have been placed beyond controversy by the inductions of science, and what are the logical inferences from these facts?

The facts concerning the order of nature which it is claimed are placed beyond controversy may be stated in the following words: Now of all the results of science, none is more universal and more emphatic than this: that there is no arbitrariness in the series of events which constitute our experience; but that a perfect order or uniformity prevails through them all, an order which our intellect can apprehend under the form of cause and effect, or _permanent_ force and _necessary_ phenomena, or, better, a constant persistency of amount both of matter and force in the universe.[424] This statement of the scientist is accepted by many theologians (of the Calvinistic school), who say with Rev. William Knight, "The doctrine of the persistence of physical force and the invariability of natural law, is a physical truth of which the theological phase or corollary is the uniformity of Divine operation and the inviolableness of Divine love. 'The permanence of the order of nature' is the scientific equivalent of the Divine constancy--'the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.'"[425] How far and in what sense we accept this doctrine will be seen as we advance in the discussion.

At the beginning of this chapter we remarked that if the Christian doctrine of the efficacy of prayer is disputed, whether on _theoretical_ or _experiential_ grounds, an adequate and complete defense can only be made by falling back upon the fundamental conception of God, and the relation of God to nature and humanity presented in the preceding chapters of this volume. Is there a God in the proper and commonly accepted sense of the term--a conscious, free, personal First Cause, the Creator of the world and man? Is He the immanent Conservator of the universe--is his omnipotence the _force_, his reason the _law_, and his omnipresence the _life_ of all nature? These are the questions which must be settled before we can successfully deal with the problem of the efficacy of prayer. If we are not agreed on these points, the debate must be adjourned until we have settled the first principles which underlie the discussion. This will be obvious to all who are acquainted with the history of the controversy. If it can be proved that there is no conscious, free, personal God, the creator and conservator of the universe, the question is settled; then prayer can be of no avail, and must "be abandoned to the domain of recognized superstitions." But if it be admitted that there is a God, in the proper import of that term, then the question may be debated whether the Christian doctrine of the efficacy of prayer is consistent with the scientific conception of material nature as "the living garment of God."[426]

Dr. Tyndall is the fairest and ablest representative of that class of scientific men who to-day are denying the efficacy of prayer--that is, of such prayer the answer to which would seem to involve the interference of personal volition in the economy of nature; and he believes in the existence of a God. He has again and again repelled with feeling the imputation of atheism which the English theologians have inconsiderately and unfairly cast upon him. He is a frank, outspoken man, and he admits that in "his hours of weakness and doubt" he has temptations to material atheism. "But," he says, "I have noticed that it is not in hours of clearness and vigor that this doctrine commends itself to my mind, and that in presence of stronger and healthier thoughts it ever disappears as offering no solution of the mystery in which we dwell and of which we form a part."[427] He also expresses his conviction that "the Power which works for righteousness is _intelligent_ as well as ethical."[428] And furthermore he asserts that "it is no departure from scientific method to place behind natural phenomena _a universal Father_ who, in answer to the prayers of his children, alters the currents of those phenomena. Thus far theology and science go hand in hand."[429] Let it, then, be distinctly remembered that we are arguing with men who believe in the existence of God.

In an article which appeared in the _Fortnightly Review_ for August, 1872, entitled "Statistical Inquiries into the Efficacy of Prayer," by Francis Galton, a species of guerrilla warfare is opened on this doctrine from the stand-point of experience.

Mr. Galton assumes that "the efficacy of prayer is a perfectly appropriate and legitimate subject of scientific inquiry." It must be assumed to be subject to unvarying laws, and, like all physical problems, may be brought to the test of rigid mathematics. By the marshaling of very incomplete and partial statistics, drawn chiefly from Chalmers's "Biographical Dictionary," he endeavors to show that praying men, especially clergymen, are no healthier, recover from sickness no better, and do not live any longer than the men who do not pray. Insurance companies make no distinction between the prayerful and the prayerless; they regard them as equal risks. Furthermore, praying men do not make any better statesmen, any more successful men of business, or any better physicians and lawyers than prayerless men. On the contrary, "it is a common week-day opinion of the world that praying men are not practical." Finally, the children of praying parents are no better endowed intellectually, and do not turn out any better morally than the rest of mankind. His gentle impeachment is that they are somewhat below the common average. By this "scientific method," as he is pleased to call it, the writer flatters himself that he has routed the army of believers in the efficacy of prayer, and that the practice of prayer will soon become "obsolete;" "just as the Water of Jealousy and the Urim and Thummmin of the Mosaic law did in the times of the later Jewish kings."

But Mr. Galton's fusillade did not produce the effect he expected. True, it made some noise, and for a brief season commanded attention; but it was soon discovered to be a mere discharge of rhetorical blank-cartridge which hit nothing. His parade of argument was found to be utterly inconsequential. The dullest mind could perceive that the attempt to solve moral problems by statistical averages was a practical folly, because it began by unceremoniously assuming the very point it ought to prove, namely, that _the determinations of will, whether Divine or human, are governed by necessary laws_ as surely as the revolution of planets and the vibration of molecules. It is precisely because personal acts are _not_ reducible to any fixed laws, or capable of representation by any numerical calculations, that statistical averages acquire any value as substitutes. "No one dreams of applying statistical averages to calculate the period of the earth's rotation, by showing that four and twenty hours is the exact medium of time, comparing one month's or one year's revolutions with another's. It is only where the individual movements are irregular that it is necessary to aim at a proximate regularity by calculating in masses."[430] The comparison of large averages may approach equality and furnish a basis of probability as to the future, but the contingency of each individual case remains still a contingency.

In no department of human inquiry is there so much temptation and so much opportunity for plausible sophistry as in the now somewhat popular application of statistics to ethological problems. By a skillful manipulation of figures, Mr. Buckle[431] flatters himself that he has made it apparent that "individual felons only carry into effect the necessary consequences of preceding circumstances;" that marriages are regulated by the price of wheat; and that the number of suicides is determined by the rise and fall of the barometer; in a word, that the whole of man's social and moral life is part and parcel of nature, and subject to the same necessary mechanical laws.

The logic of statistics, or rather the sophistry of statistics by which Mr. Galton proves the uselessness of prayer, would, if skillfully managed, be equally efficacious in proving that sobriety and integrity, honor and honesty, are unprofitable and useless virtues--at least so far as this life is concerned; and we might say of each of them what Shakespeare's "Murderer" says of conscience: "It fills one full of obstacles.... It beggars any man that keeps it. It is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well endeavors to trust himself, and live without it." Dishonest men are as healthy, recover as well from sickness, and live as long as honest men. Wicked men prosper in the world, they succeed in business and increase in riches better, it may be, than good and godly men. Dishonorable and unprincipled politicians climb into place and power with more facility than men of honor and integrity. Distinguished lawyers and skillful physicians have not been strictly temperate; and statistical tables may be easily produced which show that the longest-lived men have been such as did not go to bed sober for the last fifty years of their lives. Therefore sobriety, honesty, integrity, veracity are not profitable virtues, and, weighed in the same scales and by the same standards as are used by Mr. Galton to test the weight and worth of prayer, they are practically valueless and do not pay.

Simultaneous with Mr. Galton's article, there appeared a communication in the _Contemporary Review_ entitled "The Prayer for the Sick: Hints toward a serious attempt to estimate its value," with the indorsement of Dr. Tyndall. The proposal contained in this communication came to be generally known in newspaper slang as "Tyndall's Prayer-gauge," though Tyndall was not its author. The proposition was that "One single ward or hospital under the care of first-rate physicians or surgeons, containing a number of patients afflicted with those diseases which have been best studied, and of which the mortality rates are best known, should be, during a period of not less than three to five years, made the subject of special prayer by the whole body of the faithful, and that at the end of that period the mortality rates should be compared with the past rates, and also with those of other leading hospitals similarly well managed during the same periods." This experiment, the writer thinks, offers "to the faithful an occasion of demonstrating to the faithless an imperishable record of the power of prayer."

There was a tone of moderation and candor in this proposition which for a moment beguiled the popular mind, and there were Christian ministers so injudicious as to admit that the proposal should be entertained and the experiment tried. But its superficial fairness was delusive, and its plausibility concealed a snare. The writer must have been sufficiently conversant with the Christian doctrine concerning prayer to know that the acceptance of his challenge would be a theological blunder; for there are no unconditional assurances in the Word of God that prayers for health and long life shall always be answered. We presume also that he must have been sufficiently acquainted with medical science to perceive that the acceptance of his challenge would be a scientific blunder, for there are elements in the problem which can not be scientifically appreciated, measured, and recorded. Such, for example, are the temperament, idiosyncrasy, hereditary diathesis, previous habits of life, and mental characteristics of the patients; such the variety in skill, care, sympathy, and almost inspiration among physicians and nurses; such also the differences of climatal, sanitary, and hospital conditions; all these elements, whose varied degrees of potency are incapable of being estimated, enter into the problem and affect the results. The multiplicity and complexity of these elements render the effects as irregularly variable as if each cause had not been subject to any previous conditions.[432] The problem is not even capable of being scientifically presented in terms of experience, and until that is done it can not be subjected to experiment. Suppose the experiment to be tried in the manner proposed by the writer, and the mortality rates to be in favor of the hospital for which prayer had been offered, it would still be open for the scientific skeptic to affirm that the causes of the difference are to be found in those elements whose varying values had not been enumerated in the statement of the problem, and not in any Divine interposition in answer to prayer.[433] He might claim that the patients were not all of the same age or temperament, the physicians were not all of equal skill, the nurses were not all alike attentive, the climatal and sanitary conditions were not equal, and the question would be left in precisely the same condition as before.

Whatever may be the award of a thoughtless derision, we do not hesitate in saying that the proposition is an improper one, and can not be entertained. Especially because there is one party concerned in this matter for whom no human being is authorized to make any engagements, and that is "the Hearer and Answerer of Prayer." There is only one class of blessings for which He has given us any warrant to pray unconditionally, and these are _spiritual_ blessings. For strength to resist temptation, to endure affliction, and perform well our appointed work in life; for grace to purify our nature, elevate our aims, conquer our selfishness and pride, and help us to form a noble character, God has authorized and commanded us to pray. But for the blessings of this life, for deliverance from danger and suffering, for restoration from sickness and for long life, we are taught to pray in submission to that highest wisdom which knows what is best for us, and to append to every supplication, however ardent our desire and intense our solicitude, "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt." This submission is the loftiest attitude of prayer.

At the same time we shrink not from the distinct avowal of the Christian doctrine that it is reasonable and proper to offer prayer for recovery from sickness, and that such prayer, offered in submission to the Divine will, may be answered. We are not ashamed of the good old faith--"the Aberglaube," or superstition, as some are pleased to call it--that "_the prayer of faith shall save the sick_." The calmness and serenity of mind which the prayer of faith supplies is favorable to recovery. In fact, as "the systematic excitation of a definite expectation and hope," it has a legitimate place in psycho-therapeutics, as Feuchtersleben has shown, and even as Dr. Tuke concedes in his work on the "Influence of the Mind on the Body."[434] This "definite expectation and hope" is not a mere illusion. We have the assurance of Scripture that there is a Divine blessing which "giveth wisdom to the wise and knowledge to men of understanding," and which may descend upon the head and the heart of the most skillful physician in answer to prayer. Furthermore, it is generally admitted by medical men that "as in health certain mental states may induce disease, so in disease certain mental states may restore health."[435] Now these "mental states" may be the subject of Divine influence. Science has not dared to shut out the Spirit of God from the realm of mind, and therefore restoration to health may be given, in this manner at least, in answer to prayer. But no man would propose to make the prevalence of such prayer the subject of statistical averages. Prayer for the sick can not always result in their recovery, for then they would never die. Our lives are in the hands of God, and we shall live until our work is done, or until we have clearly shown that we will not do our work, and our life is a failure and a defeat.

Finally, in the name of our holy religion, we repel with scorn the attempt of certain scientists to test the value of prayer, and with it also the value of a life of self-denial, purity, and piety, by merely temporal, secular, and visible results which may be weighed and measured and set down in statistical tables. Christianity teaches that the present life is a probationary scene. It is a state of trial and discipline with a view to the formation of moral character. Therefore our principles and our virtues must be put to the test. Temptation tries our fortitude; affliction ascertains our submission; suffering purifies our souls; doubt and mystery give energy to our faith. Amid the good and the evil of the present our character has to be developed and perfected. There is much to be encountered, much to be endured. But as Richard Winter Hamilton has said, "This discipline is salutary. The furnace heat purities the gold by its rigorous assay. The vine prunes until it bleeds that it may bear its richer clusters. A theatre is raised for lofty struggle and celestial dint." The end of all is to make us pure and noble and heroic souls.

The scientists of this age, who are so enamored of inert matter and insensate force, may have no eye to see, no heart to sympathize with, and no competent faculty by which to estimate the value of this blessed vintage; but there are souls to whom honor is dearer than life, and wisdom more precious than rubies, and purity more desirable than fine gold, who will continue to pray--"Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love Thee and worthily magnify thy holy name."

So much for the argument against the efficacy of prayer from the experiential stand-point. We are compelled to pronounce it a failure. There seems good reason to believe that Dr. Tyndall regards it as a failure, for we do not find that he any where denies the efficacy of prayer for spiritual blessings. But, like a second Ajax Telemon, he makes haste to interpose his ample shield for the defense of his unfortunate friends; he is careful, however, to change the entire mode of warfare, and he opens the attack on the efficacy of prayer from the _theoretical_ stand-point.

Dr. Tyndall begins by observing that "the idea of direct personal volition mixing itself in the economy of nature is retreating more and more" in presence of advancing science, and among educated and scientific communities there is a growing conviction that "nature is absolutely uniform," and that her laws are changeless and permanent. He takes the ground that all prayer for Divine interposition "to produce changes in external nature," such, for example, as "prayer for rain or for fair weather," is irrational, because the answer to such prayer would be "a violation of the order of nature," "a manifest contradiction to natural laws," and in fact "a _miracle_." "The dispersion of the slightest mist by the special volition of the Eternal would be as great a miracle ... as the stoppage of an eclipse or the rolling of the St. Lawrence up the Falls of Niagara. No act of humiliation, individual or national, could call one shower from heaven or deflect toward us a single beam of the sun."[436]

We have characterized this attack of Dr. Tyndall's as an attack on the efficacy of prayer from the _theoretical_ stand-point: 1. Because he does not claim that the belief in the changeless uniformity of nature is a _self-evident_ truth--a direct intuition, either of sense or of reason, which needs no proof. 2. Because he does not assert that the absolute uniformity of nature has been _inductively_ proved, or is even capable of verification by experience, since all experience, whether of the individual or the race, is necessarily limited, and can not, therefore, give a universal truth. All that he can say of it is that it is "an _assumption_"--an assumption which all carefully conducted experiments have justified, and upon which all successful scientific research has been based. The majestic fabric of modern science has been reared upon this foundation.