nature as if she were a goddess and attributes to her likes and dislikes, while if we were to translate it into the statement, "God abhors a vacuum," we should be saying something for which we have no warrant in nature or revelation, and in regard to which even the ancient author of the book of Job might correct us, when he says that the earth itself is suspended in empty space, and that God stretches the north-that vast north which reaches to the pole-star-over vacuity. Perhaps, when we consider the imperfect influences to which the present generation of men has been subjected, we should rather congratulate ourselves that there are so many scientific men who perceive the true relations of natural and spiritual things, and so many theologians who are willing to admit the importance of the natural in its relations to the spiritual. When we take up such books as the "Unity of Nature," by the Duke of Argyle, or "Natural Law in the Spiritual World," by Drummond, we cannot fail to perceive that the time is past for a merely apologetic treatment of these subjects, and that the real matter in hand is one of correct interpretation and application of nature on the one side, and of revelation on the other. But in this we must constantly bear in mind that, while nature reveals the power and divinity of its Maker, it can go no further. We cannot "by searching find out God." We cannot "find out the Almighty to perfection." Science can only go to a certain distance. Beyond this we must appeal to the "only begotten Son who is in the bosom of the Father. He hath revealed him." Yet we shall find that in all the great system of divine works, from the material atom to the highest spiritual created being, there is a regular correlation and a unity of plan and law.

Here it may be well to note that the most essential thing in dealing with these questions is not so much extensive knowledge of facts as correct habits of thought. It is easy to amass any quantity either of natural facts or spiritual dogma. But to digest and elaborate these, and to use them for any good result, requires a clear head and honest purpose. It requires, indeed, what we may very properly call the Scientific Habit of Thought. The scientific thinker is characterized, in the first place, by care and honesty in the collection and verification of facts, however minute or unimportant they may seem, or however difficult to ascertain. It is not with him a question of selecting such facts as may square with any given theory; nor will he accept as fact anything until it is fully proved, or reject any statement, however difficult of explanation, if sustained by adequate proof. Scientific thought is equally careful as to its conclusions. It carefully separates what is merely accidental from what is essential, and accepts general principles only when sustained by an exhaustive induction. It avoids mere fancies and hypothetical views based on imagination, unless as indications of the directions in which investi

gation should proceed. It is clothed with that humility which makes a man not a dictator enforcing his notions on nature, but a student desirous to master accurately the lessons which she teaches. I am far from saying that this is universally the state of mind of scientific men, but it is what they should desire to attain to, and it is equally what those should aim at who study revelation. "Foremost among

the noblest truth-seekers on this earth are the leaders in the work and thought of science to-day. And can there be any nobler work? Is it not better to follow Truth, though it lead to the grave of our hopes, than to be enshrined in lustful indolence upon the Delilah lap of falsehood? Should any man believe in the grandeur of truth more than they who constitute the Christian Church ?*

A naturalist, who takes natural facts out of their connection to support certain conclusions, is on a par with a theologian who does the same with Bible texts. Both are wanting in the true scientific habit of thought. If we are to perceive and benefit by the parallelisms of nature and revelation we must distort neither, but place them side by side in their true attitude. We need, in short, scientific students and expositors, not special pleaders. There are too many of the latter on both sides of these questions.

Though the analogies of the natural and the spiritual are very profound, it is not necessary to go down into their depths to perceive them practically; but if they are simply and truthfully regarded at first, they may be developed to an indefinite extent. The Old Testament is full of the use of natural analogies of spiritual things and of practical deductions from them. Yet these are, for the most part, simple and lie on the surface, so that they are intelligible to all. But they grow on the mind as our knowledge increases, and rise in beauty and majesty as our minds become enlarged to comprehend them. When the Psalmist regards the midnight sky and comes back to earth with the exclamation, "What is man that thou art mindful of him?" (Ps. viii.) he expresses a sentiment with which a child may sympathize, but which, in the mind of an astronomer, grows to be an overwhelming conception of the majesty of the universe, and which equally in both leads to the adoration of the Almighty Maker, who has ordained all these and fixed all their laws. "Lift up your eyes on high," says Isaiah, "and behold who hath created these, that bringeth out their host by number, for that he is strong in power not one faileth." The spectacle of the heavens thus referred to was, no doubt, intelligible to the Israelite of Isaiah's time, and also the inference from it that his own ways were not hid from God. Yet only a mind trained in the knowledge of the movements and intricate balancings of the heavenly bodies can fully enter into all that is implied in their being "brought out by number," and that "not one

* Dollinger. Lecture delivered on occasion of the meeting of the British Association, in Montreal.

faileth," or by that "naming" of them, to which the prophet also alludes. If we turn now again to the eighth psalm, we shall find that the writer, after detailing the marvelous arrangements of the heavens, proceeds to compare these with the characteristics of God's revealed will in His law. In another psalm the same God that rules the heavens will tenderly "lift up the meek," a doctrine more fully expressed by Christ Himself. Thus, both by resemblance and contrast, the relation of the natural and spiritual, is illustrated for practical purposes. Every wayfaring man can appreciate the use of the springs that rise in the valleys and run among the hills (Ps. civ.), and can even realize their beneficent uses to wild animals and plants, as well as to man; but it is a higher thought to realize the hidden sources of the springs and the heavenly rains by which they are fed; and a still higher to think of the heaven-descended living water which may become in the heart of man a perennial fountain, "springing up into everlasting life." (John iv: 6; vii: 38.)

I have referred to Drummond as illustrating what may be done in bringing out the relations of the natural and the spiritual. But even he shows some remarkable examples of the misuse of these analogies. A noteworthy instance of this is afforded by the chapter in which he refers to the evil effects of parasitism-a bad thing, no doubt, in the spiritual world, but not necessarily so in the lower sphere of the natural. The semi-parasitism which he ascribes to the hermit-crab is especially objectionable. This little animal, which is a crab only in a very general sense of that term, has the remarkable and very curious instinct of protecting the soft abdominal part of its body by inserting it into the cast-off shell of some univalve shell-fish or sea-snail, which it carries about with it as a coat-of-mail, and into which it retreats when alarmed. Its whole structure, including the form of its claws, the shape of its abdomen, and the shelly hooks at its extremity, are adapted to this peculiar mode of life. But it is no more a parasite in thus clothing itself, than I am because I may carry an umbrella, or than an ancient knight was because he clothed himself in armor. Even if it had learned to use shells in this way, and had thereby been enabled to dispense with a hard crust which once covered it, of which, however, there is no evidence, it would not deserve to be blamed, but rather to be commended for its superior intelligence. Practically there is no animal that is more lively and active than the hermit-crab, or that seems to enjoy life more. One might as well reproach the ordinary crab because its abdominal segments are not long and useful in swimming like those of the lobster, but have been transformed into a diminutive apron; and this all the more, since, in an early stage of growth, it has a long swimming tail which it afterwards loses. The picture drawn by Drummond of the hermitcrab is indeed quite as much a caricature as that of the imaginary

miseries of the woodpecker dwelt on by some old naturalists, and often referred to as an example of the misunderstanding of natural adaptations which, when rightly regarded, are admirable and conducive to happiness. The case of the hermit-crab is indeed a conspicuous illustration of the manner in which waste products are utilized in nature, and of the way in which instinctive gifts are made to compensate for physical disadvantages; and had the Bible writers noticed the hermit-crab, they would, no doubt, have greeted it as an example in these respects, just as they have referred to the ant and to the coney. They would, in any case, have treated this little creature as a good work of God, adapted wisely to its mode of life, and would not have been guilty of the absurdity of supposing that an ordinary shrimp or crayfish could, by a series of trials proceeding through countless generations, deteriorate into a hermit-crab. It is to be noted here how completely the Bible avoids such pseudo-scientific speculations. In it all natural things are good, except when put out of their place by the wickedness of man. Their testimony is ever in favor of their Maker. In this respect it far transcends any philosophy, ancient or modern.

Though differing in some points from the clever author above referred to, I do not desire to disparage his work, and I may refer to another and happier illustration. It is that in which he refers to our Lord's lesson from the lilies of the field (Luke xii: 27; Matt. vi: 28): "Consider how they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin; yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." They grow. They are not put together artificially by mechanically-acting fingers. Let us not regard God as a mere artisan or mechanical Creator. They spring forth from an inherent principle of life, ministered to by all the external influences of heat and light and moisture. What a wealth of meaning there is in this! The inscrutable structure and vital powers of the plant; the service done to it by the great and distant sun, and the wind-borne clouds carrying rain from the distant ocean; the growth that goes on quietly and silently, yet so surely, and with such order and results of beauty, are all mysteries most profound. Just so the germ of grace in the heart may grow inwardly and outwardly, and take its nourishment from external conditions that would be useless or promotive of decay in that which is dead. Yet this growth is not self-produced or spontaneous in the materialistic sense. The flower is "clothed" with beauty. There is a Power above from whom its life and growth and perfection emanate. Herein lies the lesson that it teaches. If God so "clothes" the grass that to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, how much more you? Poor perishable flower, ruthlessly cut down by the careless mower, only that when dry it may be burned ! Man cares little for it. God cares much, and still more for His own

children. Will He suffer them, too, to be mowed down? Perhaps so; but their root shall remain, and shall again bud forth in a new and better life, wherein no cruel incongruity shall exist between the wants or the thoughtlessness of man and the purposes of God. Such comparisons as these, and that of the new birth, the mustard-seed, the leaven, the sparrows, the grain of wheat, and others that illustrated the teachings of Jesus, are filled with a many-sided truthfulness to nature, to which no justice has yet been done, or can be done, till the scientific culture of the world is greatly more advanced than it now is. The same remark may be made as to many of the natural analogies in the writings of Paul, and specially in those of the Apocalypse, though nearly the whole of the latter are derived from the previous teaching of the Old Testament or from that of Christ. Our subject is thus a vast one, even in the domain of natural fact; but it becomes vastly greater when we consider also the remarkable anticipations of natural laws and principles in revelation, and the bearing of these on spiritual things. Unity, law, order, progress in nature, are all here in their highest forms, and are in perfect harmony with Fatherly care and redeeming love. We should study these things more, and earnestly desire to attain to their full comprehension so far as that may be reached by finite mind, enlightened by the Spirit, and guided by the two-fold clew of natural law and divine revelation. Modern science opens here a rich mine, as yet very imperfectly worked, and the working of which would produce the means of positive aggression on the materialistic infidelity of the day, which has been too much in the habit of regarding religion as standing wholly on the defensive.