the latter was co-existing with darkness, which could not have been the case, in any sense or degree, with the primal cosmic light.

We have also found that cosmic light or day has always been one, never admitting of succession or of enumeration in any possible sense; while each was true of the Mosaic light or day.

We have found that cosmic days, so-called, could not have had any evening or waning in regard to their element of light, even though it might be predicable of their respective times and events. More especially have we found that they could not have had, in any sense whatever, any evenings or endings in advance of their mornings or beginnings. Whereas the Mosaic days did have their evenings in advance of their mornings.

We have found, also, that to receive as aeonic the seventh Mosaic day, with evening first and morning last, involves a gross absurdity, which, in its turn, implicates the integrity and trustworthiness of the whole narrative; that, being avowedly a non-creative day, it could not, like cosmogonic days, have been aeonic, because-no creating, no aeon; and that, being confessedly like the six, it does therefore itself bear witness that they cannot be aeonic, and by consequence are not cosmogonic.

We have found, also, that the seventh day, being the very same which was appointed as a sabbath for man, must have been an astronomic day, and that thus it does again bear witness that its six fellow days were also astronomic, not aeonic, not cosmogonic.

Finally, we have found that, if a cosmogonic day is coeval and co-extensive with a cosmogonic creative event, then the Mosaic narrative does distinctly disavow such days; because it specifies more such events than its number of days; and also that cosmic history contains a still larger excess of cosmogonic days.

Here, then, we have very many and very serious reasons - all independent of each other, and all evolved by textual

comparisons for concluding, as we do, that, even if there were proper cosmogonic days in cosmic history, they do not concur with the days of Mosaic history; and that, therefore, if this history have any claim to credence, it cannot be a history of cosmogony. The creation which it designates must have been some other and some minor creation.

Such are the results of our investigation. If our comparison of cosmogonic days with the Mosaic text is made under mental defect or mental illusion, then is our conclusion defective or illusive. We make no effort to prove our sufficiency of personal parts. At least, we have been honest. We gladly take leave of a course of thought which has necessarily been somewhat polemic too much so to suit our taste or our habit. And more gladly do we resume our simpler, safer, and more congenial task of trying to unfold the true meaning of the Mosaic text itself. We have digressed to this discussion only that we may be as free as possible from any annoyance which the general subject might occasion us in the more quiet and simple work yet before us. The discussion itself will stand or fall according to its own merits or demerits.

We take leave of this particular theme with a word which may stimulate to reflection, or to investigation, or to both, any whom it may concern. Unless we have greatly slipped in our watchful examination of the entire Hebrew scriptures, there is no one instance out of two thousand (bating this opening chapter) in which the word ", " day," stands to express indefinite time. On the contrary, it denotes, in every case, some definite and describable time. We are also quite sure that it always points to astronomic day as the concrete unit of time, or, more strictly speaking, of lightmeasure. If we are right, then to assume that the word has an aeonic sense in this brief narrative (to say nothing of four other senses) seems to us very bold and very arbitrary. [To be continued.]

ARTICLE VI.

THE IDEA OF GOD IN THE SOUL OF MAN.

BY PROF. FRANCIS BOWEN, HARVARD COLLEGE.

THE subject which I propose to discuss-the Idea of God in the Soul of Man-belongs at least as much to philosophy as to theology. Every student of philosophy knows that the systems of Descartes, Spinoza, and Malebranche are based upon this idea as their point of departure, and are colored throughout by the interpretation given to it; and nearly as much may be said of Leibnitz and the later German metaphysicians, as well as the most eminent speculatists of our own day; though they often veil his ineffable being and essence under the names of "the Absolute," "the Universal Will," "the Unconscious," and "the Unknowable." All alike bear testimony to the fact that this idea, in some one of its forms, is primitive in the mind, and upon our conception of it must depend any theory which we may form concerning the nature of pure being, the origin of existence, the source and certainty of knowledge, and the relations of man to the universe. Let us endeavor, then, to bring together and compare with each other the various interpretations which have been given to it, and the manner in which philosophy and theology will be affected by adopting either one of them to the exclusion of the others.

There are, I think, three leading forms of this idea, with which all who have given much thought to the subject are already more or less conversant, and to which all the less prominent varieties of it may easily be reduced. Let me enumerate these briefly at the outset, in order to prepare the way for a subsequent fuller consideration of them.

First, there is the primitive idea of God, which is innate in the human mind, which lies far down and indistinct in

the depths of man's primitive consciousness, which we all at first see, though without looking at it, and which as such is "the true light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world." Of course, this is the germ of all the theories which may subsequently be formed upon the subject. Like our other innate ideas,-like those of space and time, for instance,—it may, sooner or later, more or less, or even not at all, be developed by reflection, instruction, or revelation, though these all presuppose it, virtually appeal to it, never entirely efface its original characteristics, and could no more have first imparted it to man than they could have taught geometry to a brute.

Secondly, this germ is often developed (as we have too often seen), by reflective and deductive reasoning, into what may be called the metaphysician's or philosopher's idea of God, as the Infinite and the Absolute, First Cause and Causa sui,as such, necessarily existent, eternal, immutable, and impassive; creating, indeed, because his very being is actus purus (action without passion), and therefore necessarily evolving creation from his own essence, though without designing it, as he is without purpose, without affection, and even without consciousness, or any distinctive attribute of personality.

Thirdly, and lastly, experience and inductive reasoning — especially experience of sorrow, weakness, and sin — have evolved from this innate germ what I am content to call the child's idea of God, for it is also the traditional and the Christian conception of him, as an All-wise and All-gracious Providence and Moral Governor of the universe, who hears and answers prayer,who rewards justice and punishes iniquity, is offended by sin and propitiated by worship and obedience, and who makes known his will to man by direct and special revelation and by working miracles, as well as by the inward teachings of his Spirit and by the numberless manifestations of artistic and specific design in the visible universe,—a Father in heaven, with a personality as distinct and as conscious as that which he has imparted to you and me and to all our human brethren.

Now, it is obvious that each of these three forms of the idea, if taken entirely by itself, to the exclusion of both the others, is an inadequate and unworthy conception of him whom it partially represents; and is even illusory and deceptive, as leading, either by plain implication or inevitable inference, to consequences which the heart, at least, if not the reason, instinctively rejects. And yet, as I believe may be easily shown, each of them contains some phase or aspect of the truth which is wanting in both the others; and hence, both reason and revelation imperatively require that all three of these representations be combined before we attain any full and worthy conception of the Infinite and Holy One whom we all seek to know and to adore. But no sooner do we attempt such combination than we are beset with difficulties. Many of the attributes which we strive to grasp together, appear, on closer examination, to be inconceivable to thought and irreconcilable with each other. The conclusions to which we are led seem at variance with established facts, or with our most cherished convictions and hopes, or with those necessary laws of thought on which all our reasonings and investigations in other cases depend. We find ourselves either groping in the dark or blinded by excess of light; and in either case we are compelled to echo the sublime exclamation of the Hebrew seer: "Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is high as heaven; what canst thou do? Deeper than hell; what canst thou know?"

But here philosophy and revelation alike come to our aid, and assure us that these perplexities and contradictions result from the finiteness of our capacities and the necessary limitations of the human intellect. These difficulties are not inherent in merely this object of thought, or peculiar to a single line of inquiry. They meet and repel us on every hand, whenever we attempt to transcend the sphere of the limited and the finite, to grasp the immeasurable, to descend to the atom, or mount to the absolute beginning of thingsto know anything whatever as it really is, or in its inmost