e, but the command is peremptory. It is a duty for every moment of
life, for every age. Children are to be led early to believe, but this,
from the nature of the case, cannot be on rational grounds. Proof
necessarily presupposes a suspension of conviction. The rational
Christian must have begun as a Sceptic; he must long have doubted
whether the Gospel was true or false. Can this be the faith that
"overcometh the world"? Can this be the faith that makes a martyr? No!
the true believer must open Heaven and see the Son of Man standing
plainly before his eyes, not see through the thick dark glass of history
and tradition. The Redeemer Himself gave no proofs; He taught as one
having authority, as a Master who has a right to dictate, who brought
the teaching which He imparted straight from Heaven. In this view of the
ground of faith, unbelief is a rebellious opposition against the working
of grace. The union of knowledge and faith is no longer nonsense. All
difficulties are chased away by the simple consideration "that with men
it is impossible, but with God all things are possible." Philosophy and
religion are utterly at variance. The groundwork of philosophy is all
doubt and suspicion; the groundwork of religion is all submission and
faith. The enlightened scholar of the Cross, if he regards the one
thing needful, rightly despises all lower studies. When he turns to
these he leaves his own proper sphere. Julian was all in the wrong when
he closed the philosophical schools to the Christians. He should have
given them all possible privileges that they might undermine the
principles of Christ. "Not many wise men after the flesh are called."
All attempts to establish a rational faith, from the time of Origen to
that of Tillotson, Dr. Clarke, and the Boyle lectures, are utterly
useless. Tertullian was right when he said _Credo quia absurdum et quia
impossibile est_, for there is an irreconcilable repugnancy in their
natures between reason and belief; therefore, "My son, give thyself to
the Lord with thy whole heart and lean not to thy own understanding."'

Such is the substance of this remarkable work. He hit, and hit very
forcibly, a blot which belonged to almost all writers in common who took
part in this controversy. The great deficiency of the age--a want of
spiritual earnestness, an exclusive regard to the intellectual, to the
ignoring of the emotional element of our nature--nowhere appears more
glaringly than in the Deisti