Astronomical Discourses, they serve as an additional proof that "the heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handywork." Yet astronomy may still have its theological battles to fight: the nebular theory of the formation of worlds seems to be offensive to some religious minds, and if it be ever established, it will be in the teeth of opposition. I think that without presumption I may suggest an idea as to the purpose for which Providence has permitted this difficulty to stand in the way of the reception of many scientific truths. It thus becomes clear there is no collusion between the teachers of physical and theological science; it is not a sacred priesthood, as in ancient Egypt, that holds the key of the mysteries of nature; and thus the ultimate concord can scarcely be suspected of being at the expense of truth. No doubt foolish attempts have sometimes been made to twist. the facts of science and the statements of the Bible into harmony, as for instance, by some of the advocates in the great case of Genesis versus Geology; but usually the physical philosopher has calmly or boldly pursued his own line of investigation, and the theologian has inquired whether the apparent discrepancy has not arisen from a human gloss, or from a misunderstanding of the true province of revelation. And what is the result? There has been the din of battle, and the shrieks of the timid have been heard amid the shouts of the warriors: earthworks which the defenders of the faith have pushed forward have been repeatedly carried by the assailants, but the citadel of the word of God remains untaken, and its venerable walls are the more redoubtable on account of the sieges which it has withstood. III. METHODS OF INTERPRETATION.—If two books were products of the same mind, and, especially, if they are written somewhat in the same style, we should expect that the study of the one would make us better fitted for understanding the other. In treating of the analogies between the two branches of study here referred to, I may allude to the necessity of the mind being adapted to the reception of the particular kind of truth. This is mentioned first to obviate an objection that has probably presented itself already to the minds of some hearers, and which has, perhaps, clothed itself in the emphatic words of Paul: "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God; neither can he know them, for they are spiritually discerned: but he that is spiritual discerneth all things." Indeed, ordinary reason is sufficient to teach us that if a man would apprehend the word of God, his mind must be previously brought into unison with that of God; while experience proves abundantly that an intellectual worldling is often blind where an unlearned believer sees intuitively. And just so is it with physical science; the man who has not a loving interest in it, can never understand its doctrines, or weigh its conclusions. Yet neither Scripture, nor logic, nor experience teaches that the spiritual mind is all that is needed on the one side, or the scientific mind all that is needed on the other side, in order to arrive at the fulness of the truth in either department of study. Assuming then that each student is possessed of the proper receptive faculty, and a true interest in the subject, I proceed to notice several points of analogy in the temper of mind, or the intellectual processes required. The sketch will be a very rough one, and nothing more than a sketch; for the full illustration of the subject must be left till either I, or some one with greater leisure, may take up the subject in a separate treatise. The first requisite for a successful prosecution of any inquiry into the ways of God either in Nature or Revelation, is a reverent spirit,-a desire to arrive at the truth-a remembrance that what we are studying is incomparably greater and nobler than our first impressions of it. This is surely self-evident. Flippancy is fatal to success. And here the student of each department may often learn a lesson from his brother; for, unhappily, there are theologians who think they can overthrow the careful deductions of scientific men by a few dashing remarks; while there are philosophers who anxiously inquire into the mysteries and apparent contradictions of nature, yet fling aside the Bible at the first seeming discrepancy either in its statements or (more foolish still) in the statements of its interpreters. A proper reverence will evince itself, by the care taken to arrive at whatever is the truth, by the adoption of the best methods, and by a readiness to reconsider our views, whenever any new facts or fresh arguments appear to throw any reasonable doubt on their correctness. Passing from this moral requirement to intellectual ones, we may remark that the first step in any process of investigation, is to ascertain the facts on which our conclusion is to be based. Now this is a most difficult thing, though, unfortunately, people often think it so easy. Thus, turning first to Nature, let any ordinary observer try to describe such a common phenomenon as the rainbow. What a string of errors his account will probably be as to its apparent height and size, its distance, the order of the colours, their brightness, &c. Aristotle, who investigated the subject, says that the circle is of smaller diameter at sunrise and sunset than at any other period, whereas it is in reality always 82°. The history of science is full of such mistakes of eminent men, including Herodotus's lioness, which never has more than one cub; the consequence of which of course would be that the leonine race must rapidly become extinct, by its numbers being at least halved in each generation. And the popular beliefs, how strange they often are! There is, for instance, that of the influence of a change of the moon on the weather. How many of our weatherwise friends have noticed it a hundred times! And yet the highest meteorological authorities, after a series of observations continued through many years, have come to the conclusion that no influence of any sort can be traced. Turning from natural to divine science, we find that the facts which we must collect are the statements of Revelation; but how difficult is it to quote the Bible correctly! Passing by the errors introduced by bad translations, there is the scarcely honest practice of cutting down a text, so as to produce such unqualified statements as "Hear the church," or "All things work together for good." There is the thoughtless practice of laying hold of anything within the covers of the Bible, and using it as authoritative truth, though it should be the words of the Father of lies,* the statements of wicked and designing men,† the mistaken opinions of good men, ‡ ironical remarks,§ or sayings introduced by inspired writers only to be refuted.]] There is the ignorant practice of associating modern ideas with the ancient story; as the noteworthy reference of the Mormon apostle to Paul's sailing by the mariner's compass. And there is the foolish practice of wrenching a text from its connection, and making it carry any meaning which the words seem susceptible of. Some of these, indeed, have become the popular meaning of the texts; as "one star differeth from another star in glory," which generally does duty to prove the different degrees of blessedness in the heavenly state, instead of the difference between celestial and terrestrial bodies, as the context at once would show. Passing from the facts of Nature or Revelation to the language in which we clothe our impressions of them, it may be remarked that the terms employed should be definite and appropriate. Some words have necessarily a more complex signification *As Job ii. 4. As Isa. xxxviii. 18. + As Luke xi. 15. than others; and generic terms-such as metal, or ministerhave a certain vagueness which does not attach to specific terms, such as iron or Levite. In the history of science, this ambiguity of terms has been a constant source of error. The Greek philosophy was rendered almost fruitless by it; and from that time to the present, some words, such as fermentation, have been used to express two or more different modes of action. Sometimes even now a word has a different signification among the votaries of one science to that which it bears among those attached to another: thus, if a geologist hammer out of a rock a bone or shell, which, in process of ages, has been reduced simply to phosphate and carbonate of lime, he places the relic among his "organic remains," while a chemist examining the specimen, will pronounce it to be wholly "inorganic." Other words, as Catalysis or Epipolism, seem to have been woven as a cover for our ignorance. And as to the appropriateness of terms-in inventing a name, a discoverer is tempted to make it express his own theory of the matter; the name thus becomes bright with significance, a spark capable of kindling a similar thought in those minds on which it falls. But, while there is a present gain in this, there may be a future loss; and it may be fairly questioned, whether a simple unmeaning name is not often preferable. The disadvantage is this: as knowledge increases the theory alters, and the word becomes inappropriate; and since it is very difficult to disturb a name which has acquired general acceptance, the facts continue to be presented to the mind under the old heraldic device, on which is conspicuous the bar sinister of an original mistake. Thus, when Priestley isolated a certain gas eminently capable of supporting combustion, he called it Dephlogisticated air," thus giving it a name that involved a theory then under discussion, and which shortly ceased to exist; and when Lavoisier renamed this gas, believing it to be the acidifying principle, he termed it "Oxygen," the Acidproducer, and "oxygen" it has ever since been called, though chemists know that some of the strongest acids contain none of this substance. I would just remind those acquainted with the subject, how "chemical affinity" has come to mean almost the opposite of what the words naturally imply; and how what is called the "north pole" of a magnet is really its "south pole," with reference to the north magnetic pole of the earth. Turning from natural to theological science, we find the same dangers attending a bad choice or employment of words. While, however, theological terms are very often ambiguous, I believe they are more appropriate than those of most other sciences: for the sacred writers themselves furnish the words-sometimes words of their own invention-and the duty of the interpreter is not so much to put the facts of revelation into appropriate language, as to discover the meaning of the words of Scripture, and thus penetrate into the revealed mysteries. This demands scholarship, no doubt; but what is far more essential, is a certain logical power of seeing through the significance of words in relation to their context. Sometimes a popular misapprehension of a term will greatly mislead; and it should be borne in mind that words are always shifting in meaning, and have to be brought back again to their true bearings by the public teacher, or they will go hopelessly adrift. For instance, how many hearing the verse "Now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity," have a confused idea that this pre-eminent virtue is little else than either almsgiving, or a disposition to condone the faults and errors of others! If care had been generally taken to arrive at the true understanding of what is symbolized by the terms of Scripture, how many differences among Christian speakers and writers would be saved! Thus, faith is considered by some as totally independent of, if not opposed to reason, while others view it as the highest development of reason; again, some speak of faith as the same mental act, though exercised on different objects; while others draw distinctions between historic, saving, practical, miraculous, and other kinds of faith; and there is a popular use of the word which actually confounds it with superstition. Would that theologians were content to employ scriptural terms, and that in their scriptural significations! We should then be saved from many an unseemly controversy. In any investigation, beside the definiteness of the words employed, the ideas themselves must be definite. As instances of the contrary, may I not take almost at random, "A visitation of Providence;" "Nature abhors a vacuum (at least up to 33 feet); and "Miracles are impossible." To think clearly in one department of knowledge is good training for thinking clearly in another. Leaving many tempting points of analogy, I pass on to consider the most important of all-the formation of our larger generalizations,-what Bacon calls "the raising of doctrines." For natural science is not a mere collection of facts, or even a classified arrangement of them; and theology |