struck,' he says, 'by two circumstances in the actual state of opinions upon religious questions. On the one side, the sentiments contrary to or favourable to Christianity are defining themselves each day with greater precision. Beliefs become firmer beliefs; opinions hostile to them receive fuller developments. On the other side, vacillating minds are occupying themselves more and more with the struggle to which they are witnesses; minds earnest at once and sincere feel the disturbing influence of the doctrines hostile to Christianity; many again are uneasy at these doctrines, many demand a refuge from them, without finding it or daring to seek it in the essential facts and principles of the Christian faith. Between the adversaries of Christianity and its defenders, the discussion grows each day in importance and gravity; and with it also grows the perplexity in the minds of the spectators. I have a mind full, at once of confidence and of disquietude, of hope and of alarm. Whether for good or for evil, the crisis in which the civilised world is plunged is infinitely more serious than our fathers predicted it would be; more so than even we, who are already experiencing from it the most different consequences, believe it ourselves to be. Sublime truths, excellent principles, are intrinsically blended with ideas essentially false and perverse. A noble work of progress, a hideous work of destruction, are in operation simultaneously in men's opinions and in society. Humanity never so floated between heaven and the abyss. It is especially when I regard the generation now advancing, when I hear what they affirm, when I gather a hint of what they desire and hope for, it is especially then that I feel at once sympathy and anxiety. Sentiments of propriety and of generosity abound in those young hearts; they reject, when once convinced of their justice, neither the ideas which they before did not admit, nor the curb to which by the inspiration of the Divine law even human ambition does not refuse to submit; but by a strange and deplorable

amalgam, good instincts and evil tendencies exist in them simultaneously; ideas the least reconcilable clash together, and persist in them at the same time. The truth does not rid them of the error; a light indeed shines upon them, but out of a chaotic darkness which that light has not the power to dissipate.'

breathless expectation, while roaring, and men's hearts are

Here then we pause in 'the sea and the waves are failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming upon the earth.' We scarcely dare to hope, yet we are bound to believe, that the ark of God, however damaged by the billows, will safely ride over this last deluge; that the army of Christ, however thinned may be its ranks, however scattered and demoralised by defeat may be its individual soldiers, will yet again be rallied for the final struggle, and will then march to victory under Him Who at the beginning went forth conquering and to conquer.'

6

The special danger to which we are exposed in these latter days is that of being deceived. Christians may of course be again exposed to violence at any time of great excitement or commotion which may arise. But faith has little to fear from violence, and is not likely often to be tried by it in times like the present. There is more fear of deception. The ordinary Christian is now deprived of the invaluable support of unquestioned authority and of settled public opinion.

It is a terrible trial to the ordinary Christian to hear the articles of the Christian faith spoken of as open questions. He is then in danger of being deceived. And this, therefore, is the characteristic feature of these latter days. The time has come when the chain which once bound Satan and prevented him from so far deceiving the nations as to keep them from believing in the religion of Jesus Christ, has been taken off by the pride and wickedness of man; and so, disguised as

1 St. Luke xxi. 25.

an angel of light, calling himself a lover of truth, he has become a more successful deceiver than ever.

In the presence of such unprecedented dangers, it is high time that the Church should awake to a sense of her peril, and, setting aside all frivolous party distinctions, should gather herself into one compact body for defence against the common enemy, and should provide a refuge in her safe fold for all the scattered members of the flock of Christ.

The Church in this country, the old historical Church of Christ, originally planted in this land; then subjected, but never willingly, to the yoke of Rome; then rescued by Providence from that yoke, and the errors enforced by it; then trained in a land of liberty to recognise at last the freedom of man's conscience, and so to become the most enlightened and tolerant of all the churches of Christendom: this Church of England surely has before her a great future as a powerful witness to the truth, though, if need be, a witness in sackcloth. Never was she so politically weak; never was she so spiritually strong. Her intellectual champions are boldly and successfully meeting the infidel upon his own ground, and turning his own weapons against him. Not hampered by any claim of infallibility, she joyfully accepts the genuine results of advancing knowledge, and shows how little the religion of Jesus has to fear, how much to gain, from the humble, reverent, and honest inquiries of the unfettered human intellect. And here I cannot forbear closing this sketch of Christendom with the words of Lord Macaulay in the essay already mentioned; words which, though spoken of the superstitions of Rome, are equally applicable to the true Christian faith as accepted by all believers. They show how little any amount of scientific research can affect the real grounds of the Christian's faith. First he speaks of natural religion, and observes: It is not easy to see that a philosopher of the present day is more favourably situated than Thales or Simonides. He has before him just the same

evidences of design in the structure of the universe which the early Greeks had. We say just the same; for the discoveries of modern astronomers and anatomists have really added nothing to the force of that argument which a reflecting mind finds in every beast, bird, insect, fish, leaf, flower, and shell. . . . As to the other great question, the question what becomes of man after his death, we do not see that a highly educated European, left to his unassisted reason, is more likely to be in the right than a Blackfoot Indian. Not a single one of the many sciences in which we surpass the Blackfoot Indians throws the smallest light on the state of the soul after the animal life is extinct.'

Then, again, all the great enigmas which perplex the natural theologian are the same in all ages. The ingenuity of a people just emerging from barbarism is quite sufficient to propound them. It is a mistake to imagine that subtle speculations touching the Divine attributes, the origin of evil, the necessity of human actions, the foundation of moral obligation, imply any high degree of intellectual culture. Such speculations, on the contrary, are in a peculiar manner the delight of intelligent children and half-civilised man. The book of Job shows that, long before letters and arts were known to Ionia these vexed questions were debated, with no common skill and eloquence, under the tents of the Idumean emirs; nor has human reason, in the course of three thousand years, discovered any satisfactory solution of the riddles which perplexed Eliphaz and Zophar.

'Natural theology, then, is not a progressive science. That knowledge of our origin and of our destiny which we derive from revelation is, indeed, of very different clearness, and of very different importance. But neither is revealed religion of the nature of a progressive science. All Divine truth is, according to the doctrine of the Protestant churches, recorded in certain books. It is equally open to all who, in any age, can read those books; nor can all the discoveries of

all the philosophers in the world add a single verse to any of those books.'

True. But as modern criticism may question the genuineness or the authenticity of those books; so, as we hope to prove to the impartial and diligent reader, the unfolding as time advances of the great drama of the history of Christendom, stamps with the seal of truth the prophecies of those books, proving thereby, that He Who caused them to be written was that One Who alone can see the end from the beginning, and speak of things which are not, as though they were.

The truth of the Inspired Scriptures rests mainly on the fulfilment of predictions which God only could utter, and so we say again, the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.'

General Scheme of Interpretation.

In our previous historical sketch we have divided the history of Christendom into five periods. What are the phenomena which obtrude themselves upon our notice when we look back upon the great picture as a whole?

We observe the Roman Empire at first a universal monarchy, and then divided into a number of independent kingdoms. We are struck by the failure of every subsequent attempt to establish a universal Empire. We are surprised at the survival of the idea of a universal monarchy long after it had ceased to be a reality, resulting in the creation at the end of the eighth century of an Image of the Western Cæsars after they had ceased to exist for three hundred years. We mark the continuance of this so-called Holy Roman Empire for a thousand years, from A.D. 800 until A.D. 1806.

We observe also the rise of the Christian Church. Its long struggle with Paganism. Its establishment and connection with the civil power in the fourth century. Its narrow escape from being swept away by the inundation of