is
that ought to be destroyed. The natural estimate of the plain man,
when he loves the heroes of old, seems to imply that one of the chief
ills that man ought to destroy usually takes the form of some other
man. And this way of estimating men in terms of their success in
killing other men has its obvious inconsistencies. But, after all, as
one may insist, much is gained when we have made up our minds as to
what {219} ought to be done with evil, whether evil is incorporated in
our enemies, in our pains, or in our sins. We may leave to advancing
civilisation, or perhaps to some triumph of religion, the correction
of our excessive fondness for the destruction of human life. What is
essentially important is that it is part of man's mission to destroy
evil. And about this general teaching the saints and the warriors, so
it seems, may well agree.

Religion, it may be said, can have nothing to urge against this
fundamental axiom. So far all appears clear. Evil ought to be driven
out of the world. Common-sense says this. Every struggle with climate
or with disease or with our foes is carried on in this spirit. The
search for salvation is itself--so one may insist--simply another
instance of this destructive conflict with impending ills. All that is
most elemental in our hatreds thus agrees with whatever is loftiest in
our souls, in facing evils with our "everlasting No." All the
differences of moral opinion are mere differences as to what to
destroy. Man is always the destroyer of ill.

II

But if you grant the general principle thus stated, the presence of
evil in this world, in the forms that we all recognise, and in the
degree of importance that it attains in all our lives, seems, indeed,
a very serious hindrance in the way of religious insight. {220} And
the reason is plain. Religion, as we have said, in seeking salvation,
seeks some form of communion with the master of life. That is, it
seeks to come into touch with a power, a principle, or a mind, or a
heart, that, on the one hand, possesses, or, with approval, surveys or
controls the real nature of things, and that, on the other hand,
welcomes us in our conflicts with evil, supports our efforts, and
secures our success. I have made no effort, in these lectures, to
define a theological creed. Such a creed forms a topic in which I take
great interest but which lies beyond the limitations of this
discourse. Yet our study of the historica