supposed to make it their business to destroy our Bible, in such an emergency; but there will be no harm in examining their theories. Taking their revised Old Testament, we turn to Isaiah and find that about two thirds of it has disappeared. At first we are disposed to be indignant; but, when we notice that the parts which bring God nearest to us-those in which the events of Isaiah's time are reflected-have been preserved, we breathe a sigh of relief and proceed with the examination. The other great prophets, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, are in place; but, after the latter, where the old Bible had a troublesome blank, we find a new book, the Isaiah of the captivity. Can it be, we exclaim, hardly daring to believe our eyes, that He who sitteth on the circle of the heavens really heard the cries of his captive people, and sent them some one to comfort and encourage them? And when the conquering Persian threatened Babylon, and they were tortured with doubt whether his success meant freedom or only a change of masters, did he indeed reveal to any of those who feared him what was to be the outcome? We turn again to the book. The words are the same that we have been accustomed to attribute to Isaiah, but how much greater significance they seem to have acquired in their new setting, "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye soothingly to Jerusalem, and cry to her, that her service is completed, her iniquity expiated; that she hath received from the hand of Jehovah twofold for all her transgressions" (x1, 1, f.). This is the prelude; there follow such tender and inspiring messages as these: "But Zion saith, Jehovah hath forsaken me. Can a woman forget her suckling, that she should not yearn after the son of her womb? Such indeed may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Lo, I have graven thee on the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me. As for thy waste and desolate places, and thy ruined land, surely, now, thou shalt be too strait for the inhabitants, and they that swallow thee up shall be far away" (xlix, 14, ff.). "Thus saith Jehovah, even he that formed thee from the womb, I am Jehovah, . . . that confirmeth the word of his servants, and performeth the counsel of his messengers; that saith of Jerusalem, It shall be inhabited, and of the cities of Judah, They shall be rebuilt,

and I will restore the waste places thereof; . . . that saith of Cyrus, He is my shepherd, and he shall perform all my pleasure, even saying of Jerusalem, She shall be rebuilt, and to the temple, Thy foundation shall be relaid" (xliv, 24, ff.). "Come down and sit in the dust, O fair virgin, Babylon! sit on the ground without a throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans: for thou shalt no more be called tender and delicate. Take millstones and grind meal, remove thy veil, strip off thy train, uncover thy leg, pass through the rivers. . . . I was wroth with my people, I profaned my inheritance, and I gave them into thy hand. Thou didst show them no mercy; upon him that was aged thou didst make thy yoke very heavy. And thou saidst, I shall be a lady forever, and didst not lay these things to heart, nor remember the issue thereof " (xlvii, 1, ff.). "Burst forth into joy, sing together, ye waste places of Jerusalem: for Jehovah will comfort his people, he will redeem Jerusalem; Jehovah will make bare his holy arm in the eyes of all the nations, and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God” (lii, 9, ƒ.). How the hearts of the oppressed Jews must have leaped when these eloquent words were first uttered! If, however, they are really God's answer to the cry for help that ascended from the captives in Babylonia, may we not trust him in our time of need?

Daniel, too, has been given a new place in the Bible. The best authorities tell us that it must have been written in 165 B. C., when Antiochus Epiphanes, enraged at being balked in his plans against Egypt by the Romans, had vented his fury upon Jerusalem, razing much of the city, killing many of the inhabitants, and, to crown all, defiling the temple by substituting the worship of Zeus for that of Jehovah; when the Jews under Judas Maccabæus were preparing for a final struggle for their homes and their religion. Then, they say, some one who saw God's hand in the convulsions of the preceding centuries foresaw and announced to his despairing compatriots the overthrow of the tyrant and the triumph of their holy cause. If, however, this date is correct, this book, like that of the second Isaiah, is an illustration of Amos's law that "Jehovah doeth nothing without revealing his purpose to his servants,

the prophets," and a new argument for faith in a protecting and directing Providence.

The answer, then, to anyone who, like the brother quoted, is anxious to know whether the new views will save souls is that, just as he who has a literary or theological interest in the Old Testament finds that they enhance its value in these respects, so he whose interest is predominantly religious will find that they increase, rather than diminish, its efficacy as a means of grace. One is therefore justified in maintaining that the results of the study of the history of the Old Testament have been beneficial, even from the religious point of view. My task is completed. The outcome can be summed up in a few words. Investigation has taken from us a collection of books that we did not know how to read, and given it back to us in a form in which it must command greater interest and admiration; it has taken from us a mass of teachings that we could not thoroughly understand, and given it back to us so arranged that we can at length appreciate its value; it has taken from us a means of grace that we did not always know how to use, and given it back to us with the key to its highest efficacy. If, however, this is really the effect of criticism, when properly understood, what ought to be our attitude toward it and those by whom it has been conducted? Hear the words of a parable. A woman came to R. Jose, saying, "Was it not wrong for God to take from Adam, while he slept, the rib from which he made Eve?" The rabbi answered, "If some one should secretly take from you an ounce of silver, and openly give you in return for it a pound of gold, would you call him a thief?"

H.G. Mitstall

ART. V. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF CURRENT RELIGIOUS UNREST.

THE religious thought of to-day is largely characterized by unrest. This may not mean that religion itself has lost anything in respect of either its power or its significance, but only that the view-point from which it must be considered has so changed as to necessitate some readjustments between what we know and what we believe. That there has been, is now, and for a long time to come will be need of such readjustments there can be no doubt. The domain of myth and superstition is always being invaded by knowledge, which ultimately must retrieve it from their sway.

In all conflicts between science and religion-always more imaginary than real, because not the principals but only their outrunners, or at most their lieutenants, are on the field-the claims of science should receive large consideration; for although, for the time being, some of it may prove to be only "science falsely so-called," it may yet be on its way to true science, because an hypothesis not true in itself often proves to be, for working purposes, one from which we can reach the firm ground of knowledge. Besides, it is of no use to fight the men who are exploring for facts; for whether they be digging in the earth with pick and shovel, sweeping the heavens with their telescopes, or examining under the microscope, we shall be obliged in the end to adjust our thinking to exactly what they find. If they find nothing we shall have no readjustments to make; but if they find anything, no matter what, or where, nor how small it may be, it must find its place, not as a dissonant, but as an harmonious, part of the universal whole, even at the expense of our previous conceptions. Facts, indeed, are always slaughtering our imperfect theories. It is painful, of course, to witness so many of these tragedies, but the necessity is upon us in order that we may build our house on the bed-rock of fact and truth.

This is an age of knowledge. The ages of belief in myths and superstitions, in ghosts, hobgoblins, and demons, are wellnigh past. The world, in fact, for a long time has been grow

ing less divine-less divine in order that it may become more divine, the many having given way in order to the One who is greater than they all. The process by which this has come to pass has been a painful one to some, but the gain to all, including themselves, has been immense. The religious world has lost in the many, but has gained in the One, has found for the gods of high Olympus and for all other gods a more than substitute in the "one God and Father of all." This revolutionizing process has come to us in many ways and through many sources. First of all, it has come through and by means of the natural sciences, and especially through evolution, which marshals all their generalizations into one vast scheme or plan, of which continuity and progress are the chief characteristics. Then, keeping step with these, there has been a study of comparative philology and comparative religion, not overlooking the so-called higher criticism, which means simply a study of the sacred literatures as literature-of the Jewish and Christian Scriptures found in the Old and New Testaments. It is not too much to say that, in the judgment of many scholars and thinkers, a revolution in theology is not only impending, but that even now it is taking place, in consequence of the many facts which have been discovered by a study of these various subjects. It may be that "revolution" is somewhat too strong a term, but revolutions even are mostly benign. A revolution in theology would not at all imply loss to religion. Religion is quite apart from its incidents, and theology is but one of its incidents. Doubtless there are things which are fundamental to religion, but it is somewhat difficult to say just what they are. Buddhism is a religion, and, next to Christianity, formulated the purest code of morals ever known to man; and yet it has in its teaching neither God nor heaven. Mosaism was a religion, but it had, so far as we know, no doctrine of immortality. The fundamentals, it may be, are what Boyd Carpenter calls the "permanent elements" in religion, namely, dependence, fellowship, and progress. But there may be a sense of dependence, and yet no just conception of God; there may be a desire for fellowship, and yet no adequate knowledge of Him who inspires that desire; and there may be progress, and but little knowledge as to either