life. It is not silent, nor ambiguous, nor
incomprehensible in its utterance. It replies to our questions with a
knowledge which, though limited, is definite and sufficient. It tells us
that this "order of nature, which constitutes the world's experience,
is only one portion of the total universe." That the ruler of both
worlds, seen and unseen, is God, a Spirit, and the Father of our
spirits. That He is not distant from us nor indifferent to us, but that
He has given His eternal Son Jesus Christ to be our Saviour. That His
Spirit is ever present with us to help us in our conflicts with evil, in
our efforts toward goodness. That He is making all things work together
for good to those that love Him. That through the sacrifice of Christ
every one who will may obtain the forgiveness of sins and everlasting
peace. That through the resurrection of Christ all who love Him and
their fellow-men shall obtain the victory over death and live forever.

Now these are doctrines. And it is just because Christianity contains
such doctrines that it satisfies the need of man.

"The first and the most essential condition of true happiness," writes
Professor Carl Hilty, the eminent Swiss jurist, "is a firm faith in the
moral order of the world. What is the happy life? It is a life of
conscious harmony with this Divine order of the world, a sense, that is
to say, of God's companionship. And wherein is the profoundest
unhappiness? It is in the sense of remoteness from God, issuing into
incurable restlessness of heart, and finally into incapacity to make
one's life fruitful or effective."

What shall we say, then, of the proposal to adapt Christianity to the
needs of the world to-day by eliminating or ignoring its characteristic
doctrines? You might as well propose to fit a ship for service by taking
out its compass and its charts and cutting off its rudder. Make
Christianity silent in regard to these great questions of spiritual
existence, and you destroy its power to satisfy the heart.

What would the life of Christ mean if these deep truths on which He
rested and from which He drew His strength, were uncertain or illusory?
It would be the most pathetic, mournful, heartbreaking of all phantoms.

What consoling, cheering power would be left in the words of Jesus if
His doctrine were blotted out and His precept left to stand alone? Try
the experiment, if it may be done without irreverence: read His familiar
discourses in the shadow of ag