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We do not want mots upon this grave subject, we want real helps to insight, and this is a mot which ceases to impose the moment we examine it, an epigram which attracts. us only while we half think.

The Church, he says, "Jesus only mentions once" (p. 320). He is wrong (Matt. xvi. 18; xviii. 17 bis); but the fact that Jesus only twice named it thus is rather an evidence that He had some other name for it than the reverse. It increases the probability of what the author apparently denies, that the Church is the same as the Kingdom of God. "No natural reading of Church can include Plato; no natural reading of kingdom can exclude him. The effect of the two institutions upon the world is a contrast " (pp. 321, 322). But why does the author speak elsewhere of these two institutions as identical, "that unique society which He called the Kingdom of God, and we prefer to call the Church" (p. 14)? For him, by the way, that kingdom is "Utopia," and the regeneration is " Utopia" also (pp. 58, 319).

Still confining ourselves to style, we fancy-but this may be only Anglican prejudice-that we detect a bathos in the following words: "When Traditionalism has the upper hand, it burns its opponents as Rome did John Huss, or annoys them as the Church of England did Robertson of Brighton" (p. 11).

Alas for the martyr who was burned! And alas for that other martyr who was "annoyed," if not by the Church of England (which was otherwise engaged), at least by some elderly folk in Brighton!

Again, what is to be said of the good taste or decency of such an utterance as this: "Spiritual statistics are unknown in the Gospels; they came in with St. Peter in the pardonable intoxication of success: they have since grown to be a mania" (p. 110)? Poor St. Peter! Are we then to suppose that his head was turned on the day when he was

baptized with the Holy Ghost,-that it was he who reckoned the three thousand (perhaps while preaching), and in a fit of conceit informed St. Luke of the fine result of his great sermon? And yet we seem to remember earlier statistics, and that his Master, as an incentive to faith, reminded the Twelve of the five thousand and the four thousand; of how many loaves fed them, and how many baskets full they gathered up.

We pass from the style to the substance of this book. What kind of teaching does it contain? We have hinted pretty broadly already our suspicion that the writer has not laid a firm grasp on any theory of the facts. And the reader will find it easier to believe this when he is shown, in one or two flagrant examples, with what sort of grasp on the narrative itself has Dr. Watson undertaken to expound, for us, the Mind of the Master.

Take then the following narrative, for a certain abruptness in which we are not accountable, but only for the italics. "If Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean.' Of course, I am willing, said Jesus, and referred the man back to his inalienable human rights" (p. 94). Unfortunately, this reference back is not produced, and indeed nothing of the kind ever happened. What we read is that Jesus said "I will" (and added, as a result of His own volition), "be thou clean," but, as to inalienable human rights, in the Mind of the Master man was a debtor who might be sold into slavery, a prodigal without hope except from his father's mercy.

One is half ashamed to say where he suspects that Dr. Watson got this strange theory and stranger story. There is a dim resemblance to it in the answer of Jesus, not given to a sufferer asking for his own cleansing, but to an agonized father whose child the disciples could not cure. He did on that occasion say that all things were possible, not to humanity, by virtue of its inherent rights,

but to faith. He said it, not because the suppliant was ignorant of the rights of humanity, but because he was distrustful of the Good Physician. "If Thou canst do anything," said the man. "If thou canst," said Jesus, "all things are possible to him that believeth." And we are well informed, by many passages, that the faith which He required was not confidence in one's inalienable rights; it was reliance upon the ability and heart of a benefactor. His question was, "Believest thou that I am able to do this?" The great faith of the Canaanite was not proved by reliance on the inalienable rights of humanity, but by accepting a place with the dogs under the table.

Here is another specimen of the same inaccuracy: "When He said, 'Believe in Me,' 'Carry My Cross,' was He not calling men to fulfil His gospel?" (pp. 19, 20). But Jesus never said to any man, "Carry My Cross," and perhaps no one ever claimed to do so until now. Certainly the inspired writers attached such a sacredness to the Cross of Jesus, that, despite the example of their Master, they never ventured to describe their own sufferings by the name of a cross at all.' And yet St. Paul spoke of filling up what was left over of the suffering of his Master, and Jesus spoke of drinking from His cup, and being baptized with His baptism. But of sharing His Cross, never. That He bade His disciples to take up some cross is attested by two passages in each of the Synoptic Gospels, one of which, however (Mark x. 21), is unquestionably spurious. Not one of the remaining five considers that the phrase тòv σтavρòv guards sufficiently well against the misinterpretation Tòv σταυρὸν μου. In four of them it is τὸν σταυρὸν αὐτοῦ, and in the other, still more emphatically, it is TÒV σTAVρÒV ἑαυτοῦ.

1 Gal. ii. 20: "I have been crucified with Christ," has no bearing on the matter in hand, which would require the present tense: I am, by daily suffering, in the process of being crucified.

I do not stop to ask now what the meaning of this significant fact may be: it is enough to point out that for Dr. Watson's assertion (the foundation of a most important argument)—the assertion, namely, that Jesus said, “Carry My Cross"-there is no justification whatsoever. He guarded Himself well against any such misunderstanding (Matt. x. 38, xvi. 24; Mark viii. 34; Luke ix. 23, xiv. 27).

And yet how much is presently built upon this gratuitous, reiterated blunder. "Jesus did not describe His Cross as a satisfaction to God, else He had scarcely asked His disciples to share it" (p. 120); "Jesus nowhere commanded that one cling to His Cross: He every where commanded that one carry His Cross" (p. 128). It is of the Cross, thus misunderstood, that we read, not without pain, "the action of the Cross on sin is as simple in its higher sphere as the reduction of fever by antipyrine" (pp. 121, 122). But perhaps he is not the best physician, for body or soul, who professes to find no mystery in the action of remedy upon disease. At all events we repeat that Jesus does not utter anywhere the precept, said to be "everywhere," upon which all this is based. Now, just as you cannot botanize by trampling down the flower beds, so it is of little use to theorize boldly about facts which one is walking over instead of carefully observing,-unless indeed one accepts the wonderful dictum, which explains so much of this book, that "we have an intuition of Jesus. He is not a subject of study, He is a revelation to the soul: that or nothing (p. 50). As if a revelation from God were not to be studied. As if the prophets did not search and inquire diligently.

But this reminds us that, in the language of this book, the prophets are discoverers. "Their chief discovery was

the character of God-when the Hebrew conscience. lifted the veil from the Eternal, and conceived Jehovah as the impersonation of Righteousness" (p. 113). In another passage we are told how they achieved this exploit; Jewish

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piety "imagined" the austere holiness of God, it " added His tenderness; the saints "infused the idea with passion," they "assigned" to Him human emotions; they are unapproachable in their familiarity" (pp. 255, 256).


And, of course, since it is they who have done all this, we are quite as much indebted to them as Dr. Watson says, who tells us that they laid the world under a priceless obligation. But we have been accustomed to think that it was a more awful Hand than theirs which, while they covered their eyes," lifted the veil from the Eternal."

Again, "His disciples were to use no kind of force, neither tradition, nor miracles, nor the sword, nor money. They were to live as He lived" (p. 57). Does this really mean that He worked no miracles, and that He did not say, "If I had not done among them the works that none other man did, they had not had sin?" Does it mean that He did not bid them, "heal the sick, cast out devils," nor say, "These signs shall follow them that believe," again, "Greater works than these shall ye do, because I go unto My Father"? If not this, does it mean anything?

In another passage, the resurrection of Jesus is hopelessly confused with the immortality of His spirit.


Was this Life something that could be quenched by death or that death could touch? Granted that they scourged and crucified Jesus' body, that it died and was buried. Could Jesus, who gave the Sermon on the Mount and the discourse in the upper room, who satisfied St. John and loosed St. Mary Magdalene from her sin, and who remains the unapproachable ideal of perfection, be annihilated by a few nails and the thrust of a Roman spear? If the lowest form of energy, however it may be transformed or degraded, be still conserved in some shape and place, can any one believe that the Author of Life in this world was extinguished on a Roman cross? The certainty of Jesus' resurrection does not rest in the last issue on His

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