over and over again in human history. Families, cities, and nations rot, mainly because they cannot resist the seductions of an overwhelming material prosperity. A man says to his soul, "Take thine ease, eat, drink and be merry," and to that man scripture and science say, with equal emphasis, "Thou fool!"

Every upward step in attainment of the comforts of life, of art and science, brings man into new fields not of careless enjoyment but of struggle. They swarm with new enemies and temptations before unknown. The new attainments are not unalloyed blessings, they are merely opportunities for victory or defeat. The uncertain battle is only shifted to a little higher plane. Man has increased the forces at his command only to meet stronger opposing hosts. And retreat is impossible. Man remains a spiritual being only on condition that he resolutely and vigilantly purposes to be so. To lag behind in this spiritual path is death.

And the epitaph of nations and individuals is the record of their defeat in this struggle to be masters and not slaves of their material and intellectual attainments. Greece, the most intellectual of all nations of all times, died in mental senility of moral paralysis. Of Socrates's and Plato's "following after truth" nothing remained but the gossipy curiosity of a second childhood, living only to tell or to hear some new thing. And the schools of philosophy were closed because they had nothing to tell which was worth the knowing or hearing. All the wealth of the world was poured into Rome, the home of Stoic philosophy, and it was smothered, and died in rottenness under its material prosperity.

A family, race, or nation starts out fresh in its youthful physical and mental vigor and strict obedience to moral law and in its faith in God. For these reasons it survives in the struggle for existence. It grows in extent and power, in intelligence and wealth. But with this increase in wealth and power comes a deadening of the mind to the claims of moral law, and an idolatrous worship of material prosperity. The new generation looks upon the stern morality and industry and self-control of its ancestors as straightlaced and narrow. Morality may not be unfashionable, but any stern rebuke of immorality is not conventional. Strong moral earnestness and wholesouled loyalty to truth are not in good form. Wealth and social position become the chief ends of men's efforts, and, to buy these, unselfishness and truth and self-respect are bartered away. Luxury, enervation, and effeminacy are rife, and snobbery follows close behind them. The ancestral vigor, the insight to recognize great moral principles, and the power to gladly hazard all in their defence have disappeared in a mist of indifference, which beclouds the eyes and benumbs all the powers. The race of giants is dwindling into dwarfs. They say, when the time comes, we will rouse ourselves and be like our fathers. And the crisis comes, but they are not equal to it. The nation has long enough cumbered the ground, it has already died by suicide and must now give place to a race and civilization which has some aim in, and hence right to, existence, and which is of some use to itself and others. If we would learn by observation, and not by sad experience, we must remember that man is above all, and must be a religious being con

forming to the personality of the God manifested in his environment.

Can you find anywhere a more profound or scientific philosophy of history than that of Paul in the first chapter of Romans? "For the invisible things of him since the creation of the world are clearly seen, being perceived through the things that are made, even his everlasting power and divinity; so that they are without excuse: because that, knowing God, they glorified him not as God, neither gave thanks; but became vain in their reasonings and their senseless heart was darkened. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools. And even as they refused to have God in their knowledge, God gave them up to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not fitting; being filled with all unrighteousness. And then follows the dark picture, from which we revolt but which the ancient historians themselves justify.

On the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel at Rome is Michel Angelo's marvellous painting of the creation of Adam. A human figure of magnificent strength is half-rising from its recumbent posture, as if just awakening to consciousness, and is reaching out its hand to touch the outstretched finger of God. The human being became and becomes man when, and in proportion as, he puts himself in touch with God, and is inspired with the divine life. The lower animal conformed mainly to the material in environment, man conforms consciously to the spiritual and personal.

Any science of human history that does not acknowledge man's relation to a personal God is fatally

*Romans i. 20-22, 28.

incomplete; for it has missed the goal of man's development and the chief means of his farther advance. And a religion which does not emphasize this is worse than a broken reed. It is a mirage of the desert, toward which thirsty souls run only to die unsatisfied.

Man can never overcome in this battle with the allurements of material prosperity and with the pride and selfishness of intellect, except as he is interpenetrated and permeated with God, any more than we can move or think, unless our blood is charged with the oxygen of the air. It is not enough that man have God in his intellectual creed; he must have him in his heart and will, in every fibre of his personality, in every thought and action of life. Otherwise his defeat and ruin are sure.

Three fatal heresies are abroad to-day: 1. Man's chief end is avoidance of pain and discomfort, in one word, happiness; and God is somehow bound to surfeit man with this. And this is the chief end of a mollusk. 2. Man's chief end is material prosperity and social position. 3. Man's chief end is intellect, knowledge. Each one of these three ends, while good in a subordinate place, will surely ruin man if made his chief end. For they leave out of account conformity to environment. "Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him for ever." And just as the plant glorifies the sun by turning to, and being permeated and vivified and built up by, the warmth and light of its rays, similarly man must glorify God. This is the religion of conformity to environment: man working out his salvation because God works in him. Thus, and thus only, shall man overcome the allure

ments of these lower endowments and receive the rewards of "him that overcometh."

Thus prosperity and adversity, success and failure, continually test a man. If he can rise superior to these, can subjugate them and make them subserve his moral progress, he survives; if he is mastered by them, he perishes. Through these does natural selection mainly work to find and train great souls. They are the threads of the sieve of destiny.

In this struggle man must fight against overwhelming odds, and the cost of victory is dear. He must be prepared, like Socrates, to "bid farewell to those things which most men count honors, and look onward to the truth." He appears to the world at large, often to himself, eminently unpractical. The majority against his view and vote will usually be overwhelming. Truth is a stern goddess, and she will often bid him draw sword and stand against his nearest and dearest friends. The issue will often appear to him exceeding doubtful. The grander the truth for which he is fighting, the greater the need of its defence and enforcement, the greater the probability that he will never live to see its triumph. The hero must be a man of gigantic faith. But all his ancestors have had to make a similar choice and to fight a similar battle. The upward path was intended to be exceedingly hard. This is a law of biology.

Why this is so I may not know. I only know that no better and surer way could have been discovered to train a race of heroes. For no man ever becomes a hero who has not learned to battle with the world and himself. Does it not look as if God loved a heroic soul as much as men worship one, and as if he