t activity was wholly divorced from
that religion which is inherently spirit and life. It was the interest
of the antiquarian in the earthen vessel which holds the treasure, not
the interest of the soul in the treasure itself. The frame was the
object of endless discussion and speculation, but the eyes were blind
to the picture enclosed by the frame. They thought that they were
engaged in the works of religion, while their work was as remote from
religion as the labour of one who would set himself to expound the
glory and wonder of art by explaining the texture of canvas and
analysing the chemical components of paint. And, while the ancient
documents were studied more and more under the microscope, the image of
the Son of Man faded more and more before the eyes of men, and the
ideal of love of duty was left as lumber under accumulating dust:
religion had a place in the social {155} scheme, but the place was the
museum of antiquities. It was no longer a power in life; it had become
a matter of mere historic interest.

II

The new atmosphere in which men lived made it impossible to present the
Christian appeal to them as that appeal came home to the heart of
humanity for nineteen centuries. For the life-blood of religion was
ever the passion of love and gratitude evoked by the forgiveness of
sin. But the sense of sin died in the heart, and a generation that
knew not sin could only wonder at the meaning of a gospel which
proclaimed the forgiveness of sin. No golden age lay behind when man
was sinless; there was no 'fall' from a high estate, and consequently
no restoration was needed. The spiritual tale of man's first sin was a
matter of mockery; and the teaching of prophet and saint regarding
iniquity was but 'an obsolete and fanatical {156} eccentricity.' Walt
Whitman has given expression to man's new attitude:

'I could turn and live with animals, they are so
placid and self-contained,
I stand and look at them long and long;
They do not sweat and whine about their condition;
They do not lie awake in the night and weep for their sins.'

Nothing was, in fact, further from the thought of the latter-day
generation than to lie awake weeping for their sins. 'As a matter of
fact,' writes Sir Oliver Lodge, 'the higher man of to-day is not
worrying about his sins at all, still less about their punishment; his
mission, if he be good for anything, is to be up and doing.' That is
an absolutely cor