ot how
many of you may be in the condition of this fluor-spar. For aught I
know, every one of you may be in this condition, requiring but the
proper agent to be applied--the proper word to be spoken--to remove a
detent, and to render you conscious of light and warmth within
yourselves and sources of both to others.

The circle of human nature, then, is not complete without the arc of
the emotions. The lilies of the field have a value for us beyond
their botanical ones--a certain lightening of the heart accompanies
the declaration that 'Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like
one of these.' The sound of the village bell has a value beyond its
acoustical one. The setting sun has a value beyond its optical one.
The starry heavens, as you know, had for Immanuel Kant a value beyond
their astronomical one. I think it very desirable to keep this
horizon of the emotions open, and not to permit either priest or
philosopher to draw down his shutters between you and it. Here the
dead languages, which are sure to be beaten by science in the purely
intellectual fight, have an irresistible claim. They supplement the
work of science by exalting and refining the aesthetic faculty, and
must on this account be cherished by all who desire to see human
culture complete. There must be a reason for the fascination which
these languages have so long exercised upon powerful and elevated
minds--a fascination which will probably continue for men of Greek and
Roman mould to the end of time.

In connection with this question one very obvious danger besets many
of the more earnest spirits of our day--the danger of _haste_ in
endeavouring to give the feelings repose. We are distracted by
systems of theology and philosophy which were taught to us when young,
and which now excite in us a hunger and a thirst for knowledge not
proved to be attainable. There are periods when the judgment ought to
remain in suspense, the data on which a decision might be based being
absent. This discipline of suspending the judgment is a common one in
science, but not so common as it ought to be elsewhere. I walked down
Regent Street some time ago with a man of great gifts and
acquirements, discussing with him various theological questions. I
could not accept his views of the origin and destiny of the universe,
nor was I prepared to enunciate any definite views of my own. He
turned to me at length and said, 'You surely must have a theory of the
unive