or of classes, by simply condemning the rebels to exclusion from its organization-that is to say, to banishment or starvation. It would be a tremendous tyranny, but it might be a magnificently ordered scientific State. Now this ideal does not appeal to our contemporaries for its own sake. To the masses it is abhorrent, not only in England, but to a less extent even in Germany. It is interesting, and a little surprising to us who regard Germany as wholly Prussianized, to read statements like the following from Rudolf Eucken: "Hard and soft periods are apt to alternate. To-day softness is undoubtedly predominant and tends to give rise to the idea that the weak are good and the strong bad, and that it is the duty of the latter to give way to the former the moment there is a conflict of interests. Thus there is a widespread modern tendency to take sides with the child against the parent, with the pupil against the teacher, and in general with those in subordination against those in authority, as if all order and all discipline were a mere demonstration of selfishness and brutality." This might well have been written by an Englishman-we should recognize its truth at once if it were said of our own country. That it is possible for a very clear-sighted German observer to say it of his countrymen proves that we have to deal, not with an idiosyncrasy of English sentimentalism, but with a tendency which is common to the whole of the European world. This "softness" is, quite plainly, the ethical sentiment of the proletariat, which has become articulate as soon as this class succeeded to political power. Eucken, who regards the vogue of Nietzsche as a violent protest against the flaccidity and colourlessness which must pervade social life if this sentimental equalization of the unequal should carry the day, goes on to deprecate not less strongly what he calls politicism-the undue increase in the power of the State, in consequence of which, he says, "the whole of spiritual life tends to fall more and more under the power of the State, and to receive as it were an official stamp." This is an evil to which we are entirely strangers. It has come upon Germany not because it is part of the spirit of the age, but as a necessary result of bitter national rivalries. If we become a socialistic State, it will be because we feel our existence threatened by another nation, or by sectional anarchism at home. It may be that the spirit of nationalism will end in a victory for State-socialism everywhere such a form of government is the logical outcome of fierce and aggressive patriotism in any

country—and of the conditions imposed by it upon its neighbours. But it is not the ideal of the masses anywhere, and would only be accepted by them after a hard struggle. What we usually call socialism is more like individualism run mad. It is anarchic and antinomian, sentimental and emotional, a sort of completely secularized and materialized primitive Christianity. For it is strong in "love of the brethren," and in discountenancing private ambition. It resents all discipline, except that of the trade unions, which is submitted to for the same reason which makes the German democrat submit to military rule-viz., because he has enemies whom he wants to conquer or against whom he wants to protect himself. The aspirations of our age in Great Britain have been for a fuller and freer life for the individual. Nationalism, is, for the revolution, the real enemy; and it is the enemy because it logically leads to a hierarchical State-socialism, in which the individual is sacrificed to the State, the form of government which above all he dreads. I will not attempt to judge between these rival tendencies. Personally, I would rather be governed by a strong bureaucracy-honest, economical and efficient-than be a prey to the sectional fanaticisms of trade unionists, syndicalists, and what not. But I believe that an omnipotent socialist government would soon throttle all the life out of the people, and I should dread inexpressibly the perhaps inevitable alliance between the bureaucracy and a priesthood.

I pass to the concluding section of my enquiry. What can we learn from Christ about the relative merits of Freedom and Discipline? Fundamentally, He was on the side of Freedom. Tertullian says truly and forcibly: "Dominus noster veritatem se, non consuetudinem cognominavit." He sets Himself decidedly against "the tradition of the elders," wherever it comes in conflict with humility, charity, and spiritual sincerity. He must be held to have maintained the rights of the pure and enlightened conscience, not only against the Jewish hierarchy, but against all consecrated tradition and priestly casuistry, not least (by anticipation) against that which came to shelter itself under His own name. He deliberately placed Himself in the prophetic succession, appearing before His contemporaries as "the prophet of Nazareth in Galilee." He was, therefore, in the eyes of the Jews, a lay-teacher, whose credentials were personal inspiration. "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because the Lord hath anointed me to speak good tidings." It was the champions of authority who declared war to the knife

against Him. They were right from their point of view. His teaching was subversive, not of the law, but of legalism. So St Paul saw clearly, and St. Paul understood what the Gospel meant. "Stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made you free," is his exhortation. "If the Son shall make you free, shall be free indeed," says the last and greatest of the inspired interpreters of the Divine message.

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But Christian freedom, like all other Christian rights, duties, and virtues, contains a paradox, and needs a good deal of analysis. Christianity is a simple creed, but its simplicity is that kind of simplicity which consists in ultimate harmony and perfection, and not in poverty of content or shallow obviousness. The ancient collect which addresses the Deity as "O God who art the author of peace and lover of concord, in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal life, whose service is perfect freedom": or in the splendid terseness of the Latin original, borrowed from St. Augustine, Deus auctor pacis et amator, quem nosse vivere, cui servire regnare est: expresses with more dignity the same truth as the modern epigram, "The Christian is the Lord's servant, the world's master, and his own man." The way to Christian freedom is "to bring into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ." It has in it an element of fear, fear of God—an unpopular doctrine which we forget at our peril. Modern Europe does forget it. Heine in his mocking vein says that the German appropriates the Deity ("unser Gott "); the Frenchman patronizes Him ("le Bon Dieu "-the goodnatured, easily propitiated God of the French Catholic); the Italian insults Him (by mixing Him up with the definite article); the Englishman ignores Him (by never mentioning Him in conversation). The old Puritan ideal of living always under our great Taskmaster's eye," though harshly expressed, is Christian. "Yea, I say unto you, fear Him," our Lord said. And we cannot overstate the rigour of the self-discipline with which the Christian must purchase his right to be free. Outward liberty without inner self-control, self-development without self-sacrifice, are ruinous. It is because men do not rule themselves that it is often salutary for them to bear an external yoke. An arbitrary government, a tyrannical Church, may in some cases be schoolmasters to bring men to Christ, though it is a sad pity that such methods should ever be necessary. There are many, on the other hand, who never rise in this life from the fear of God to the love of God. We must not blame them.

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If they live in obedience, they will have their reward hereafter. Tauler says very well, "He who serveth God with fear, it is good. He who serveth Him with love, it is better. But he who in fear can love, serveth Him best of all." It is only perfect love that casteth out fear; and perfect love is, even for the holiest saint, an unrealized ideal.

Further, though the Founder of our religion was certainly no institutionalist, neither was He an individualist. Among all the brotherhood worketh one and the self-same Spirit, dividing to every man severally as He will. We are members one of another, bound to bear others' burdens, and to allow others to bear ours. Christianity promises to make us free; it never promises to make us independent. That is the fundamental difference between Christianity and Stoicism; and for minds of a strong and self-reliant temper it is a very important difference indeed. Christian humility largely consists in willingness to depend on others, and to receive from them what they are able to give. This applies to the intellectual life as much as to the social life. Pride isolates a man; and an isolated man is a very small and cramped man, a poor creature. Personality only reaches its true nature, that is to say, its true end, by free giving and receiving, by wide and deep sympathy. Ultimately, we are what we understand and what we love. No man can really march to heaven alone. Thus, however much we hug the idea of freedom, we must not deny our interdependence on each other.

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That Christianity is at bottom a religion of freedom is shown by the prominent place which it gives to love and joy. Love is essentially free service, rendered willingly and gladly. It is to the credit of human nature that a slave may love his master; but in loving him he ceases to be a slave, except externally. Augustine's ama, et fac quod vis" is one of those Christian paradoxes which may be dangerous to non-Christians, but not to anyone who understands what Christianity is. The perfect law, the law of liberty, is not tolerant of antinomianism Freedom begins with posse non peccare; it is consummated only in non posse peccare. It is the Apostle of love who says curtly Sin is lawlessness." As for joy, which no one before St. Paul had erected into a moral virtue, it is the fine flower of the Christian life, and its disappearance is the surest token that we have lost our way. It was an unmistakable attribute of the Christian character, through all the ages of persecution. It was one of the

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things which attracted Augustine to the Church of Christ. And we need not prove by argument that joy is the consciousness of inner freedom, the consciousness that, as someone has lately put it," the universe is friendly." Joy and love go hand in hand. "He who loveth, runneth, flieth and rejoiceth," as Thomas à Kempis says. Joy produces love, and love joy.

We are thus, as usual when we turn to the New Testament in our difficulties, confronted by an apparent paradox which turns out to be a real reconciliation of opposites. It solves no particular political and social problems; but it convinces us that the rival ideals which we see struggling for supremacy in the world around us are not absolutely opposed to each other, each containing an element of truth. We cannot put the two ideals on the same level, and we may hope that the old historical forms of disciplinary repression have nearly had their day. The ideal of the priest and the drill-sergeant are still a danger, and will long be a nuisance, but few suppose that the future is theirs. Neither Rome nor Berlin will be the spiritual capital of the new world. Still, spiritual freedom must be purchased with a great sum"; ; and we shall not have it unless we are worthy of it, which I am afraid we are not at present.

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Dr. SCHOFIELD (Chairman) said how very much the Institute was indebted to Dr. Inge for such an able and closely-reasoned paper. It was full of thought, and thought for the times of extreme value. In accordance with custom there would be no discussion, and he esteemed himself highly privileged in being allowed to make a few remarks on what they had just heard.

He would offer nothing by way of criticism, which would be entirely out of place, and also because he agreed with the paper; and felt that with profound insight the root of the matter had been reached.

All he would venture to do was to underline and emphasize some of the beauties of the paper which he would greatly regret if they were overlooked by the audience. He could, of course, only point out what struck him, and no doubt, each one will have additions to make.

By comparing page 244 we learn that under real discipline (as in