centre, the Deity will shine through him, through all
the disguises of ignorance, of ungenial temperament, of unfavorable
circumstance. The tone of seeking is one, and the tone of having is
another.

The great distinction between teachers sacred or literary,--between
poets like Herbert, and poets like Pope,--between philosophers like
Spinoza, Kant and Coleridge, and philosophers like Locke, Paley,
Mackintosh and Stewart,--between men of the world who are reckoned
accomplished talkers, and here and there a fervent mystic, prophesying
half insane under the infinitude of his thought,--is that one class
speak from within, or from experience, as parties and possessors of the
fact; and the other class from without, as spectators merely, or perhaps
as acquainted with the fact on the evidence of third persons. It is of
no use to preach to me from without. I can do that too easily myself.
Jesus speaks always from within, and in a degree that transcends all
others. In that is the miracle. I believe beforehand that it ought so
to be. All men stand continually in the expectation of the appearance
of such a teacher. But if a man do not speak from within the veil, where
the word is one with that it tells of, let him lowly confess it.

The same Omniscience flows into the intellect, and makes what we call
genius. Much of the wisdom of the world is not wisdom, and the most
illuminated class of men are no doubt superior to literary fame, and
are not writers. Among the multitude of scholars and authors, we feel no
hallowing presence; we are sensible of a knack and skill rather than of
inspiration; they have a light and know not whence it comes and call
it their own; their talent is some exaggerated faculty, some overgrown
member, so that their strength is a disease. In these instances the
intellectual gifts do not make the impression of virtue, but almost
of vice; and we feel that a man's talents stand in the way of his
advancement in truth. But genius is religious. It is a larger imbibing
of the common heart. It is not anomalous, but more like and not less
like other men. There is in all great poets a wisdom of humanity which
is superior to any talents they exercise. The author, the wit, the
partisan, the fine gentleman, does not take place of the man. Humanity
shines in Homer, in Chaucer, in Spenser, in Shakspeare, in Milton. They
are content with truth. They use the positive degree. They seem frigid
and phlegmatic to those who have be