breathes the spirit of his whole life, and has poured new courage

into thousands of fainting hearts:

"Say not the struggle nought availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,

And as things have been they remain.

"If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

"For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes, silent, flooding in, the main.

"And not by eastern windows only,

When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front, the sun climbs slow-how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright.”

C. J. Win Lustro

ART. IV.-INSPIRATION

SOME forty years ago a young missionary was making a long journey among the Himalayan mountains when he became rain bound in a little wayside house provided for travelers who sometimes passed that way. Having no company, and only one or two books with him, he was very glad to find some portions of an English magazine which had been left by some passing tourist, and of course he read the several remaining articles with leisurely care. Among other articles which possessed a double interest in that remote corner of the world was one, by an unknown writer, on the subject of biblical inspiration. The missionary had pronounced views on this subject. He had no doubts to be dispelled, but strange views were circulating, and not a few feared that the ark of God was in danger, and for this reason anything on that subject was eagerly sought and read.

The writer of the article in question seemed to be a believer in the inspiration of the Scriptures and in the divine origin of' Christianity, but at the same time seemed inclined to believe in a larger measure of inspiration than is generally conceded rather than a smaller. His idea seemed to be that inasmuch as the Holy Spirit is in the world to remain forever, and inasmuch as his gifts are free to all, we should resolutely maintain the vantage ground which the New Testament concedes to us and expect the "fruit of the Spirit" to appear in our day as certainly, and as distinctively, as in the New Testament era. In saying this he did not include the old-time miracles, but confined his remarks to the subject of inspiration alone. Discussing this phase of the question the unknown writer said in substance, "Why may we not believe that Charles Wesley was inspired to write his well-known hymn, 'Jesus, Lover of my soul,' or Toplady to write 'Rock of Ages, cleft for me'? What is improbable about it? Why should anyone who believes in inspiration at all object to such a supposition?" For some reason which he did not understand the mis

sionary not only dissented from this doctrine, but felt something like irritation as he read it. In some strange way it seemed to him as if the unknown writer was cheapening the precious gift of inspiration by making it the common privilege of every Christian, no matter whether educated or ignorant, gifted or feeble-minded. Inspiration, in the sense in which that term had always been popularly used, had seemed to him as a transcendent endowment which lifted the writer above the infirmities of the ordinary scribe and made him a direct messenger from God to men. To speak of Charles Wesley and Toplady as inspired by the Holy Spirit to write hymns for Christian worship seemed not only to encroach upon the prerogatives of holy men of old, but to cast doubt upon the doctrine of inspiration itself. In any case the inspiration of modern hymn books was a thing not to be thought of, much less mentioned. And yet the thought was not to be summarily thrust aside. From time to time it was brought to mind, usually in connection with the general subject of inspiration, and the prominence of the human element in the modern hymn book could not fail at times to recall to mind the still more human element in the hymn book of the ancient Hebrews. The vindictive spirit manifested in some of these productions, if not the most prominent, was by no means their only defect. On the other hand, the modern hymn book possessed many merits, not the least of which was its value as a manual of devotion. This missionary, who could not sing, had at one period used both Bible and hymn book in his private devotions, and at times had found the modern hymns as helpful as the ancient psalms, but this fact had never even for a moment suggested the thought that both were inspired by the same Spirit. But, as time passed, the question which had been raised in the mountain rest house recurred to his mind again and again, and led to a comparison of the ancient and modern hymns. Among the Hebrew hymns the twenty-seventh probably comes nearest in spirit and expression to the two hymns quoted by the reviewer. The ancient poet wrote:

"For in the time of trouble He shall hide me in his pavilion;
In the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me.

He shall set me up upon a rock."

Charles Wesley wrote:

"Hide me, O my Saviour, hide
Till the storm of life be past."

And Toplady:

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.

Whatever else may be said about these three hymns it must occur to the mind of any reader who is at all acquainted with the term "spiritually minded" that an unmistakable kinship unites them together. Wesley and Toplady were not model saints, it is true, but who can assure us that the ancient Hebrew writer was blameless according to the standard of his day? Of the gift of inspiration, in all ages and in all its phases, it may be said that it ever has been-and still is a treasure held in earthen vessels. It is perhaps natural to assume the contrary, and hence the necessity for reminding the early Christians that "Elijah was a man of like passions with us," and of the Bible it might be said that it is perhaps the most human production—the most true to human nature of any collection of writings to be found in the world's literature. It was given for men, and not for angels, and had the human element been less prominent in its pages it would have been poorly adapted to the wants of mankind.

As time passed the subject thus thrust upon the attention of the missionary in his remote station continued to challenge his thought, and of course did not long confine itself to sacred hymns alone. The inspiration of the Bible was not in question, but what of inspiration outside of the Bible? Much had been heard on that subject in India, and men claiming some measure of inspiration were beginning to appear among the Hindus, but the orthodox Christian ideal of the Bible as an inspired book was not challenged in Christian circles. The Mohammedans, on the other hand, insisted that the Old and New Testaments, though once inspired, had been more or less corrupted by the Christians, while the Koran had been carefully guarded and still remained directly as it had come from heaven into the hands of the Arabian prophet.

In their view the Koran was not only inspired but eternal, and had been lying in God's presence in heaven through all the ages until Mohammed began his work, when it was given to him in successive instalments as necessity called for it. Not God himself was more sacred, in the eyes of the Mohammedan champions of that day, than the book which professed to contain the word of God. In their view inspiration was mechanical, and unchanging as a piece of iron mechanism. The Brahmo idea, though more intelligent and reasonable, inclined to the other extreme. Their tradi tions and ideals prepared them to accept a broad and liberal view of inspiration, but they had no fixed standard of revealed truth and, as might have been expected, soon began to become entangled in contradictions and extravagances. The absolute need of a standard of some kind soon became apparent, but the earnest leaders of the Brahmo movement, while accepting parts of the teachings of Jesus, carefully avoided anything which would commit them to an acceptance of the New Testament, or even the Gospels, as an authoritative standard of revealed truth. The Mohammedans believed in the inspiration of an ancient but petrified book; the Brahmos in the inspiration of living men, but men adrift without a compass or a North Star. In the meantime certain imperative personal obligations began to constrain the missionary to study the subject of inspiration from a personal and extremely practical point of view. His work was among a people who were less intelligent than those to whom Barnabas and Paul preached, and very often he felt the need of instructions directly from his divine Master. He did not crave the power to work miracles, but he did wish to be sure that God was with him and was directing his footsteps. This assurance was given to him in a general way, as it is given to all spiritually-minded persons, but at times it became very definite and clear. He had gone to India in response to an extraordinary call, which admitted of no doubt, and at intervals God had directed his steps, partially by providential tokens but sometimes by extraordinary impressions made directly upon his inner consciousness. Did these impressions belong to the common gift of inspiration, or were they exceptional in character and purpose? In the next place, the