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

H-VIII.

tionally without the assumption of a supernatural overruling 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 IETVEVσria* (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

* "EOTVEUOTIC: "-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 apeños, &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.

2. All writing is inspired by God, and profitable, &c. (which makes theopneustos part of the predicate.)

Now, in this last way of construing the text, which is the way adopted by our authorised version, one objection strikes everybody at a glance-viz., that St Paul could not possibly mean to say of all writing, indiscriminately, that it was divinely inspired, this being so revoltingly opposed to the truth. It follows, therefore, that, on this way of interpolating the is, we must understand the Apostle to use the word graphé, writing, in a restricted sense, not for writing generally, but for sacred writing, or (as our English phrase runs) "Holy Writ;" upon which will arise three separate demurs: First, one already stated by Phil.— viz., that when graphé is used in this sense, it is accompanied by the article; the phrase is either ǹ ygaon, “the writing," or else (as in St Luke) as ygapar, "the writings," just as in English it is said, "the Scripture," or "the Scriptures." Secondly, that, according to the Greek usage, this would not be the natural place for introducing the is. Thirdly-which disarms the whole objection from this text, howsoever construed-that, after all, it leaves the dispute with the bibliolaters wholly untouched. We also, the anti-bibliolaters, say that all Scripture is inspired, though we may not therefore suppose the apostle to be here insisting on that doctrine. But no matter whether he is or not, in relation to this dispute. Both parties are contending for the inspiration-so far they are agreed; the question between them arises upon quite another point-viz., as to the mode of that inspiration, whether incarnating its golden light in the corruptibilities of perishing syllables, or in the sanctities of indefeasible, wordtranscending ideas. Now, upon that question, the apostolic words, torture them how you please, say nothing at all.

There is, then, no such dogma (or, to speak Germanicè, no such macht-spruch) in behalf of verbal inspiration as has been ascribed to St Paul; and I pass to my own argument against it. This argument turns upon the self-confounding tendency of the common form ascribed to θεοπνευστία, or divine inspiration. When translated from its true and lofty sense of an inspiration-brooding, with outstretched wings, over the mighty abyss of secret truth-to the vulgar sense of an inspiration, burrowing, like a rabbit or a worm, in grammatical quillets and syllables, mark how it comes down to nothing at all; mark how a stream, pretending to derive itself from a heavenly fountain, is finally lost and confounded in a morass of human perplexities.

First of all, at starting, we have the inspiration (No. 1) to the original composers of the sacred books. That I grant, though distinguishing as to its nature.

Next, we want another inspiration (No. 2) for the countless translators of the Bible. Of what use is it to a German, to a Swiss, or to a Scotsman, that, three thousand years (plus two hundred) before the Reformation, the author of the Pentateuch was kept from erring by a divine restraint over his words, if the authors of this Reformation-Luther, suppose, Zwingle, John Knox-either making translations themselves, or relying upon translations made by others under no such verbal restraint, have been left free to bias his mind, pretty nearly as much as if the original Hebrew writer had been resigned to his own human discretion?

Thirdly, even if we adopt the inspiration No. 2, that will not avail us; because many different translators exist. Does the very earliest translation of the Law and the Prophets-viz., the Greek translation of the Septuagint always agree verbally with the Hebrew? Or the Sama