way? So studied and taught, they tell us how a nation, starting on the foundations of primitive tribalism, grows up into the supreme conception, the kingdom of God. The prophets come before us as the piercing, penetrating critics of the social and political life of their nation. They clear the ground in thought, as they cleared the ground in history, for the supreme Person - the Christ - who took the national hope of His people, and by perfect self-sacrifice and self-assertion purified it so that it became the hope of the race.

Thus, Bible-teaching, allied to the natural and instinctive lines of growth in childhood and youth, may breed up in the young a kind of conscience wherein the individual and the social elements are indissolubly blended. From the Book of Deuteronomy to the First Epistle of John, by way of the Person of Christ, is there any other way for conscience to travel?

One of the topics yesterday evening was, The Bible as an Aid to Self-discovery. The thought of to-night which supplements it is that he who knows his Bible knows that there is but one place where he can hope to have a clear knowledge of himself. That place is deep and widening human fellowship. There alone can one know the God and Father of Jesus Christ. There alone, through the knowledge of the one true God, can one attain to a clear and saving knowledge of one's self.

PROFESSOR WILLIAM E. B. DU BOIS, PH. D.

ATLANTA UNIVERSITY, ATLANTA, GEORGIA

It is impossible for the individual to reach the larger social conscience by sheer expansion, by a benevolent endeavor to be interested in all men. This leads inevitably to a tenuous filmy consciousness, a loss of grip on the realities of human beings — on the concrete man. It becomes easily a theoretical rather than a practical humanitarianism, and has often been illustrated in the world's history by the wavering and doubting of the philanthropic mind.

We can only be interested in men by knowing them knowing them directly, thoroughly, intimately; and this knowing leads ever to the greatest of human discoveries, the recognization of one's self in the image of one's neighbor; the sudden, startling revelation, "This is another Me, that thinks as I think, feels as I feel, suffers even as I suffer." This is the beginning, and the only true beginning, of the social conscience.

But it is the beginning, and not the end. If followed up with real interest and determination, it must lead, next, to the discovery and

realization of the stranger, to something at first subtle and fleeting, then shadowing into strength and reality, that tells us, Here in this my neighbor stand things I do not know, experiences I have never felt, depths whose darkness is beyond me, and heights hidden by the clouds; or, perhaps, rather, differences in ways of thinking, and dreaming, and feeling which I guess at rather than know; strange twistings of soul that curve between the grotesque and the awful.

But to them that persevere, to them that say, "I do not just comprehend why a working-man loves to get drunk, or why a housemaid buys curious hats, or why a negro basks lazily in the sun, these, and yet greater things, I do not understand, and yet I will, in God's truth, seek to know all this and more," - to such hearts and minds will come in time the glimpse of a larger answer, the faint yet growing comprehension of human likenesses that both transcend and explain the differences, and that reveal, in the realization, the essential humanity of all men,- that strange kernel of life, which, hidden though it be, and in body, thought, and surrounding far removed from us, is yet for us and in us, the greatest fact in the world.

Once this is recognized, then comes the only practical synthesis in this world of self-sacrifice and self-development: the recognition of myself as one of a world of selves, not as all, but as one; not as nothing, but as one.

Hither the social conscience must come, without wavering, without compromise. In a world of men, even of differing and different men, we cannot, on account of cowardice, treat any of these men as less than men; we cannot slink back of Darwinism, to discover excuses, or whiten our lies by laying them on the Lord. If you have aspirations above the dirt, why may not your coachman? If you, in the choking narrowness, stretch groping arms for air, why may not the hod-carrier be dissatisfied too? If you count yourselves as something more than your money, why may not I?

To induce, then, in men a consciousness of the humanity of all men, of the sacred unity in all the diversity, is not merely to lay down a pious postulate, but it is the active and animate heart-to-heart knowledge of your neighbors, high and low, black and white, employer and employed; it means a firm planting of human ideals; the training of children to be through their doing, and not simply to do through their being; the setting of our faces like flint against the modern heresy that money makes the man, and a revereat listening, not simply to the first line but to the last line of Emerson's quatrain:

"There is no great, no small,

To the Soul that maketh all;

Where it cometh, all things are

And it cometh everywhere."

REV. SAMUEL M. CROTHERS, D. D.

MINISTER OF THE FIRST PARISH, CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS

Let me emphasize what President Pritchett has said about the difficulty which besets the Church in this matter of moral leadership. The Church is a great historical institution. It has a life running through centuries. It draws inspiration from a glorious past. One of the great articles of the historic creed is," I believe in the Holy Catholic Church." This means more than a belief in the present-day Church. It is the expression of loyalty to a great historic movement. I believe not only in what good men are doing to-day, but in what they have done through all these ages. "Like a mighty army moves the Church of God." It is a military maxim that "an army must be distributed widely in order to subsist; it must unite in order to fight." So the Church must seek for its supplies over a wide territory. It must be ever seeking the best in literature, in science, in art, in daily experience.

Then all these things must be united, and all its varied force be brought to bear upon the besetting sin of the day. What is the besetting sin of society? There have been times when it was superstition, slavery, or intemperance. To-day the gravest danger is the greed for gain. Our American communities are ill governed because men who will not lie in a personal transaction will allow a lie for their own party to go unrebuked. Men who will not themselves steal will tamely submit to corporate stealing. There needs to be a revivial of simple honesty and civic courage.

If the Church is to do its part in this reformation, it must first purify itself. And then the Church must be united. It must present a solid front.

HOW CAN WE QUICKEN IN THE INDIVIDUAL A SENSE OF NATIONAL AND UNIVERSAL BROTHERHOOD?

THE SACREDNESS OF CITIZENSHIP

PRESIDENT WILLIAM J. TUCKER, D. D, LL. D.

DARTMOUTH COLLEGE, HANOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE

We must be sure that we advance our ideals as the facts for which they stand are filled with power. Every powerful thing must be capable of being invested with sacredness, else it is an evil thing. It is the chief business of righteousness to follow after power and after powerful men. Whenever this work is ignored or evaded, all minor tasks are futile. The account with righteousness is not kept by attention to incidentals. As some one has recently said, "There is something grander than benevolence, more august than charity: it is justice." Citizenship, as it advances to its new and enlarging functions, must become more and more sacred in the eyes of men, if it is to fulfill these functions. It must concern itself, according to our judgment of its business, with "the weightier matters of the law." We must learn to be impatient of all easy and spectacular, if not questionable, substitutes for citizenship in downright earnest.

So much lies in our subject without further saying. But how shall we compass so great an end, which is nothing less than to raise the moral estimate of citizenship? How shall we who believe in the value of education contribute to this end? How shall we come out of the academic into the practical, and say the things we have to say, and do the things we have to do, effectively? So far as the masses are concerned, we must work, I think, in and through the concrete. Citizenship is a matter of principles and ideals; but it is no abstraction. It is a matter of details, which, in their ceaseless and monotonous return, teach" line upon line and precept upon precept." Citizens are made by doing the things for which, at any given time, citizenship stands. There is no other way of making the ordinary citizen. Principles are established, standards are set, ideals are made clear and abiding through persistent, or as in some cases through aroused and impassioned, action. A campaign like that of District Attorney Jerome on the East Side of New York is first educational, secondarily political. We can educate somewhat through the schools; but, for the most part, we must be ready to take the field, and deal with men who do not think much in our way, but who are capable of thinking earnestly.

But the immediate question before us, and as it seems to me the most serious political question before the country, is, not how shall we educate, in the ordinary sense, those whom we call the masses? but how shall we raise in those already educated the moral estimate of citizenship? The greatest political danger of our time does not come directly from ignorance, but from the use made of ignorance by the intelligence of organized power, with the tacit consent of the intelligence of culture. Ignorance may be the condition; it is not the inciting cause of political corruption. That cause lies within the region of intelligent dishonesty. It is our bounden duty, for every reason, to educate the ignorant; but it is a shame that we are obliged to educate them for the sake of protecting ourselves from our own trained and often educated leaders, who have become adepts in corruption.

It is as true to-day as when Carlyle said it, "It is the knowing ones who rule." What do our "knowing ones" think about citizenship? What is the moral estimate which they put upon it? What is the moral estimate which we, as a consenting, if not an active, political part of the knowing and ruling ones, put upon it? Let us test very briefly this moral sense of citizenship as it comes within our observation or experience.

Citizenship, we shall agree, requires the faithful use of political rights. Rights, once established, instantly become duties; otherwise we must speak of them as unoccupied rights. An unoccupied political right always represents so much indifferentism,—moral as well as physical absenteeism. The percentage of unused rights has become a calculable factor in political manipulation. It can be pretty definitely located in any given community, for it usually follows the lines of intelligence. We familiarly say that the quality of the vote in New England, not its size, depends upon the weather. No man can faithfully use his political rights without a good deal of inconvenience, personal effort, and sometimes personal courage. The result is an increasing disuse of political rights among those who are unwilling to pay the price of the right. It is for this reason that a great many question the extension of political rights, as through woman suffrage. Will the rights, if established, be occupied ? Citizenship is cheapened by unused, as it is demoralized by misused, privileges.

Citizenship, we shall emphatically agree, requires that its political purity be kept inviolate. Bribery is to suffrage what forgery is to business, or treason to the service. But bribery is a recognized, not exactly authorized, but recognized, method of transacting political business. Neither party claims to be free from it. The gen