terial that no judicious compiler would have thought it worth while to interpolate them.

But the hardest knot for the compilationists to untie yet remains: Who wrote the passages in which God is called by the compound name Jehovah-Elohim? The theory in question compels the assumption of a third document, or set of documents, having this peculiarity, or else some unheard-of process of composition in the matter. In either case the difficulties above noted are immeasurably enhanced. Why, for example, should the Jehovah-Elohist almost alone tell the exceedingly interesting story of Eden? Section ii; chapters ii, 4-iii. Nay, more, Why in that section should the Elohist only give the serpent's language? Vers. 1-5. In other sections, where all three forms of the divine name are interchanged, the puzzle becomes still more complicated. For any mortal to pretend to the instinct to ferret out accurately the lineage of any verse or passage amid these intricacies, argues a self-conceit truly amazing. Yet these theorists, from the veriest sciolist to the astute and learned Ewald, (who is, perhaps, the most dogmatic because the most egotistic of them all,) flippantly discourse of the Elohist as saying this, and the Jehovist that, as confidently as if they themselves had been at the elbow of these assumed personages, or had seen the presumed "redactor" copy the several passages piecemeal, and weave them together. The whole theory to candid minds appears a specious affirmation not justified by a careful examination of the facts. It breaks utterly and hopelessly down by actual application. No modern critic has been able to thread his way among these tangled fragments to the satisfaction of the next comer behind him. The clue is a mistake, and the investigators are on a false track.

Moreover, and in fine, if the compiler of Genesis, whoever he was and wherever he lived, so skillfully dovetailed his materials into a connected and symmetrical history that the most microscopic scrutiny fails to detect the joints, he is fairly entitled to the credit of calling his work his own. Few historians are more original than this. It is useless to waste time in dismembering his narrative and conjecturing whence he may have derived this or that piece of information. It is frivolous and unfair to disparage him as a "redactor" if he has so thoroughly welded his composition into a homogeneous whole and so

smoothly covered his steps that we fail to trace the process or the sources. We may suppose him to have had ever so many documents or early records, or traditionary authorities, but if he has diligently and faithfully and judiciously used them, he has virtually made the matter his own, and has produced a substantially original work, behind which it is useless and unjust to endeavor to penetrate. This the writer of Genesis certainly has done, and we are, therefore, justified in calling him its author.

Still the fact of this peculiar use of the sacred names exists and is patent. How shall we account for it? The opponents of the documentary theory, including various shades of orthodoxy, (Baumgarten, Dreschler, Hävernick, Hengstenberg, Keil, Kurtz, Stahelin, etc.,) commonly explain it as arising from the character in which God is set forth in the several passages. Thus, Elohim, they think, signifying deity in general, is used where God is spoken of in a creative or providential relation; whereas Jehovah, as the covenant Being, is employed where he is represented in his special attitude toward the Hebrews. This is plausible, and in many cases it may be a just explanation; but in numerous other passages it altogether fails of application. For example, the account of Cain and his descendants (section iii; chapter iv) is almost exclusively Jehovistic, while that of the Sethites, (section iv; chapters v-ix,) who were the direct progenitors of the Hebrews, is chiefly Elohistic. A similar discrepancy prevails in the Elohistic account of circumcision, (section vi; chapter xvii,) followed by the Jehovistic account of the destruction of Sodom, (section vii; chapters xviii, xix.) In the details of the mixed sections, we opine, a like incongruity in this respect will be found to be frequent. We prefer therefore to say that the peculiarity in question probably arises partly from an intentional interchange for the sake of variety, and partly from those inscrutable laws of association which govern writers in their selection of words. It should be observed that a similar peculiarity to some degree characterizes the remaining parts of the Pentateuch, especially the earlier chapters of Exodus, and has even been traced in the other books of the Old Testament. Rationalists like Colenso and Robertson Smith have not failed to distribute Joshua and Judges between the assumed Elohist and Jehovist, and to draw equally unwarranted conclusions as

to the authorship and date of these books. As well might we dismember the Gospels and the Epistles on the basis of the names by which the Redeemer is therein designated. There are some such peculiarities in the New Testament, and a few of its writers to a certain degree affect special terms and epithets as applied to Jesus Christ; but it would be preposterous to make these a guide to the authorship of those pieces.

We conclude, then, that while it is not improbable that the author of Genesis employed written documents as well as oral traditions in composing the book, and while it is possible that these may in some instances have been originally characterized by the prevalent use of the divine names noted above, yet he so thoroughly remodeled and unified these materials that it is now quite impracticable and futile to recognize or separate the elements. We should as little expect to see the attempt successfully accomplished as to pick out and classify according to origin the several pieces of information which Luke acknowledges in his preface (i, 2) that he incorporated into his Gospel. In both cases the whole was fused and recast into a fresh form which fairly bears the mark of individual authorship.

ART. III.-RELATION OF THE PULPIT TO SKEPTICAL SCIENTIFIC THEORIES.

WITH the facts of science theologians have no dispute. But the theories are often widely divergent from the facts, and threaten and assail the primary truths of religion. The facts of science may be susceptible of explanation in harmony with the fundamental principles of Christianity. Not so with many of the theories said to be educed from the facts. These are constantly at war with truths which are vital to the perpetuity and stability of the Christian religion.

What is the duty of the gospel preacher in relation to these skeptical theories? Shall he undertake directly to refute them by formal argument? This seems to be the notion of many. Holding that they are set for the defense of the Gospel, they make their pulpits ring out with defiant onslaughts upon the schools of skeptical criticism, and marshal in formidable array FOURTH SERIES, VOL. XXXIV.—3

the categorical proofs that all the latest phases of unbelief are false. Is this wise? It may give a minister the appearance of learning and zeal, but does it prove that he is endowed with a large degree of common sense? Certainly a minister should be ready to give to every man that asketh him a reason of the hope that is in him, with meekness and fear, but it does not follow that he shall volunteer before every promiscuous assembly to parade what he knows about all opposition to the principles of natural religion. "It may be safely said," says the "London Methodist," "that not one in fifty in our congregations knows or cares any thing about the vagaries of skepticism, either new or old. . . . The old function of the preacher is the true modern function. When Paul spoke of coming not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but with words about Christ crucified, full of power and the Holy Ghost, he meant his example to be imitated through all time." But Paul gives us something more direct and specific upon this point than his example. In his letter to Timothy he made express mention of "profane babblings, and the oppositions of science falsely so called," charging the young minister to avoid them. No matter what these "oppositions of science," or gnosis, (knowledge,) "falsely so called," were, they may properly be regarded as standing in the same relation to the pulpit then that philosophical doubtings and quibblings do now, and the discerning Paul enjoins upon his son in the Gospel abstention from them. That Paul's charge was well founded, and that it has peculiar application to the pulpit of to-day, may appear from two or three considerations.

I. Let us regard the pulpit in relation to certain other agencies. Time was when the sacred desk had a sort of monopoly in its contact with the public mind. It was the school of the common people, the means of imparting knowledge, secular, political, or religious, as the case might be, to the masses which congregated to hear. The mighty "election sermons" in this country of less than a century ago are in proof.

Times have changed. The responsibility of imparting instruction is now shared by the schools, the forum, the platform, the legislative hall, and the mammoth press. This is an age of books, quarterly reviews, monthly magazines, weekly

and daily newspapers, and hourly pamphlets. Great assemblies, like scientific congresses, evangelical alliances, ecumenical conferences, are the order of the day. It is also an age of specialists and specialties. Almost every department of labor and thought has become systematized, each particular branch calling for its adept. There are few general scientists, historians, or practitioners of great note. Even the pulpit has its evangelists, its prophets, its apostles, its teachers, and its pastors. Few, too few, clergymen are distinguished in all these particulars. Almost every illustrious personage in the world of thought gained his distinction by making some one thesis a matter of special attention.

Another peculiarity of the age is that external lines separating the provinces of workers are less clearly and closely drawn than of old. Practical laborers are all mixed up, as the Sadducees thought family matters would be in the resurrection. Gladstone, the statesman, enters the ecclesiastical arena, and, by a few strokes of his pen, shakes Rome to its center. Agassiz, the doctor, enters the domain of science, and, by the originality and completeness of his demonstrations, gains an estate of honor more enduring than that of princes. Lincoln, the lawyer, steps into the Presidential chair, rules the affairs of the nation through the darkest period of her history, falls in death as the clouds disperse and the glory of freedom and victory dawns, but hands a name down to posterity which shall brighten more and more with every succeeding historic cycle. Moody, the layman, enters the pulpit, and preaching Jesus to the largest audiences which ever hung continuously on human lips, sets the world ablaze with the fire of gospel grace, and rescues perishing thousands from the débris of darkest guilt. Huxley, though educated for a physician, is better known as a scientist. Cook was trained for the pastorate, but achieved his fame on the platform. Thousands upon thousands set apart for one work have won their highest success in another. To these irregularities no one is found to demur. None cavil about Moody's ordination papers. His success is his parchment. Mrs. Palmer had no formal license to preach, but many believed for the sayings of the woman, and her call to that department of labor was unquestioned. There are distinguished editors and college presidents who