extraordinary advances made and being made in Oriental and Greek philology. It is a situation of public scandal even to the deep reverencers of the Bible; but a situation of much more than scandal, of real grief, to the profound and sincere amongst religious people. On the one hand, viewing the Bible as the Word of God, and not merely so in the sense of its containing most salutary counsels, but, in the highest sense, of its containing a revelation of the most awful secrets, they cannot for a moment listen to the pretence that the Bible has benefited by God's inspiration only as other good books may be said to have done. They are confident that, in a much higher sense, and in a sense incommunicable to other books, it is inspired. Yet, on the other hand, as they will not tell lies, or countenance lies, even in what seems the service of religion, they cannot hide from themselves that the materials of this imperishable book are perishable, frail, liable to crumble, and actually have crumbled to some extent, in various instances. There is, therefore, lying broadly before us, something like what Kant called an antinomy-a case where two laws equally binding on the mind are, or seemed to be, in collision. Such cases occur in morals- -cases which are carried out of the general rule, and the jurisdiction of that rule, by peculiar deflections; and from the word case we derive the word casuistry, as a general science dealing with such anomalous cases. There is a casuistry, also, for the speculative understanding, as well as for the moral (which in Kant's terminology is the practical) understanding. And this question, as to the inspiration of the Bible, with its apparent conflict of forces, repelling it and yet affirming it, is one of its most perplexing and most momentous problems.

My own solution of the problem would reconcile all that

is urged against an inspiration with all that the internal necessity of the case would plead in behalf of an inspiration. So would Phil.'s. His distinction, like mine, would substantially come down to this-that the grandeur and extent of religious truth is not of a nature to be affected by verbal changes such as can be made by time, or accident, or without treacherous design. It is like lightning, which could not be mutilated, or truncated, or polluted. But it may be well to rehearse a little more in detail, both Phil.'s view and my own. Let my principal go first; make way, I desire, for my leader: let this honourable man Phil., whom I, Philo-Phil., now take by the right hand, and solemnly present to the public-let this Daniel who has come to judgment have precedency, as, in all reason, it is my duty to see that he has.

Whilst rejecting altogether any inspiration as attaching to the separate words and phrases of the Scriptures, Phil. insists upon such an inspiration as attaching to the spiritual truths and doctrines delivered in these Scriptures. And he places this theory in a striking light, equally for what it affirms and for what it denies, by these two arguments-first (in affirmation of the real spiritual inspiration), that a series of more than thirty writers, speaking in succession along a vast line of time, and absolutely without means of concert, yet all combine unconsciously to one end-lock like parts of a great machine into one systemconspire to the unity of a very elaborate scheme, without being at all aware of what was to come after. Here, for instance, is one, living nearly one thousand six hundred years before the last in the series, who lays a foundation (in reference to man's ruin, to God's promises and plan for human restoration), which is built upon and carried forward by all, without exception, that follow. Here come a

multitude that prepare each for his successor-that unconsciously integrate each other-that, finally, when reviewed, make up a total drama, of which each writer's separate share would have been utterly imperfect without corresponding parts that he could not have foreseen. At length all is finished. A profound piece of music, a vast oratorio, perfect and of elaborate unity, has resulted from a long succession of strains, each for itself fragmentary. On such a final creation resulting from such a distraction of parts, it is indispensable to suppose an overruling inspiration, in order at all to account for the final result of a most elaborate harmony. Besides, which would argue some inconceivable magic, if we did not assume a providential inspiration watching over the coherencies, tendencies, and intertesselations (to use a learned word) of the whole-it happens that, in many instances, typical things are recorded-things ceremonial, that could have no meaning to the person recording-prospective words, that were reported and transmitted in a spirit of confiding faith, but that could have little meaning to the reporting parties for many hundreds of years. Briefly, a great mysterious word is spelt as it were by the whole sum of the scriptural books -every separate book forming a letter or syllable in that secret and that unfinished word, as it was for so many ages. This co-operation of ages, not able to communicate or concert arrangements with each other, is neither more nor less an argument of an overruling inspiration, than if the separation of the contributing parties were by space, and not by time. As if, for example, every island at the same moment were to send its contribution, without previous concert, to a sentence or chapter of a book; in which case the result, if full of meaning, much more if full of awful and profound meaning, could not be explained ra

tionally without the assumption of a supernatural overrul. ing of these unconscious co-operators to a common result. So far on behalf of inspiration. Yet, on the other hand, as an argument in denial of any blind mechanic inspiration cleaving to words and syllables, Phil. notices this consequence as resulting from such an assumption-viz., that if you adopt any one gospel, St John's suppose, or any one narrative of a particular transaction, as inspired in this minute and pedantic sense, then for every other report, which, adhering to the spiritual value of the circumstances, and virtually the same, should differ in the least of the details, there would instantly arise a solemn degradation. All parts of Scripture, in fact, would thus be made active and operative in degrading each other.

Such is Phil.'s way of explaining EVEVOTIα (theopneustia), or divine prompting, so as to reconcile the doctrine affirming a virtual inspiration, an inspiration as to the truths revealed, with a peremptory denial of any inspiration at all, as to the mere verbal vehicle of those revelations. He is evidently as sincere in regard to the inspiration which he upholds, as in regard to that which he denies. Phil. is honest, and Phil. is able. Now comes my turn. I rise to support my leader, and shall attempt to wrench this notion of a verbal inspiration from the hands of its champions by a reductio ad absurdum-viz., by showing the

* "EÖTVEVOTIO:"-I must point out to Phil. an oversight of his as to this word at page 45; he there describes the doctrine of theopneustia as being that of "plenary and verbal inspiration." But this he cannot mean, for obviously this word theopneustia comprehends equally the verbal inspiration which he is denouncing, and the inspiration of power or spiritual virtue which he is substituting. Neither Phil., nor any one of his school, is to be understood as rejecting theopneustia, but as rejecting that particular mode of theopneustia which appeals to the eye by mouldering symbols, in favour of that other mode which appeals to the heart by incorruptible radiations of inner truth.

monstrous consequences to which it leads-which form of logic Phil. also has employed; but mine is different, and more elaborate. Yet, first of all, let me frankly confess to the reader, that some people allege a point-blank assertion by Scripture itself of its own verbal inspiration; which assertion, if it really had any existence, would summarily put down all cavils of human dialectics. That makes it necessary to review this assertion. This famous passage of Scripture, this locus classicus, or prerogative text, pleaded for the verbatim et literatim inspiration of the Bible, is the following; and I will so exhibit its very words as that the reader, even if no Grecian, may understand the point in litigation. The passage is this: Πασα γραφη θεοπνευστος καὶ apeλuos, &c., taken from St Paul (2 Tim. iii. 16). Let us construe it literally, expressing the Greek by Latin characters: Pasa graphé, all written lore (or every writing)-theopneustos, God-breathed, or God-prompted-kai, and (or also) -ophelimos, serviceable-pros, towards-didaskalian, doctrinal truth. Now this sentence, when thus rendered into English according to the rigour of the Grecian letter, wants something to complete its sense-it wants an is. There is a subject, as the logicians say, and there is a predicate (or something affirmed of that subject), but there is no copula to connect them—we miss the is. This omission is common in Greek, but cannot be allowed in English. The is must be supplied; but where must it be supplied? That's the very question, for there is a choice between two places; and, according to the choice, will the word theopneustos become part of the subject or part of the predicate, which will make a world of difference. Let us try it both ways:—

1. All writing inspired by God (i.e., being inspired by God, supposing it inspired, which makes theopneustos part of the subject) is also profitable for teaching, &c.