self-comprehending Adam would confess that he knew
himself only when he noted within him the lover of the infinite. And
here history leads the way. You look into "The Book of the Dead," and
you see what high and serious things religion meant for the early
Egyptian. The pyramids are monuments to religion. The art of the
ancient races was chiefly homage to the divine. The Athenian Parthenon
would never have been but for faith in the goddess that shielded the
city. Greek art, the greatest art in the world, is primarily a tribute
to faith. Those marvelous statues were likenesses of the gods; those
incomparable temples were dwelling-places for the gods. Religion is
in the warp and woof of the world's love and sorrow, its art and
literature, its patriotism and history. The life of man is the
cathedral window, and religion is the colored figure that stands in
it. The two are inseparable. You can not abolish the figure without
breaking the window; you can not banish religion without destroying
humanity. Try to explain Homer's world without Olympus; account for
Mohammedanism and make no reference to faith; write the history of
the Middle Ages and take no note of the "Divine Comedy"; sum up
the meaning of Persian and Indian civilization and pay no heed to
religion; show what Hebraism is and leave unnoticed its consciousness
of God, and you will create a parallel to the philosopher who should
endeavor to trace the significance of human life apart from man's
passion for the infinite.

Here then is the key to manhood. He is a being over whom the unseen
wields an endless fascination. There is in him a thirst that nothing
can quench save the living God. His chief attribute is an attribute
of wo, an incapacity for content within the limits of the visible
and temporal. His differentiation from the brute is at this point
absolute. Between man and the lower orders of life there is a line of
likeness; there is also from the beginning a line of unlikeness. In
physical structure man is both similar and dissimilar to the animal.
As bread-winner and economist he is kindred and he is in contrast to
the creatures below him. In the home, in society, and in the state
in which both home and society are set and protected, the line of
likeness grows less and less distinct, while the line of unlikeness
becomes bolder and plainer. It is impossible to deny observation to
the dog and impossible to grant to it science. The instinct for beauty
belongs to