their families, they have wasted what was necessary to give them pleasant and plentiful homes. The liquor monopolies cost the people of this country, and the wage workers among them, more than the bread they eat. The Knights of Labor, and similar associations, must pay their part of this stupendous tax, running into millions, as in all probability they take their portion of the useless drinks.

Sickness and misfortune may bring many people to penury and want, with no blame for their own misdeeds resting upon them. In such cases they may need more wages to relieve them from actual distress. But those who waste their earnings in useless drinks have really no good ground of complaint. Let all workingmen, then, keep clear of the saloon monopolies; let them break the bands that bind them to the poisoned cup, and form associations of their own, or cause to be inserted in those already existing an article forswearing all intoxicating liquors, and "boycotting" at the same time all manufacturers and venders of such drinks. If they must leave their work and stand as idle lubbers anywhere, let it be around the dark places where drunkards are made, but be sure not to fall into the holes and the habits themselves.

Rev. R. O. Williams.

ARTICLE VIII.

The Christian Consciousness.

A STUDY IN MODERN THEOLOGY.

SINCE the time of Schleiermacher much has been written and said about the Christian consciousness. As to a definition of the notion, no agreement has been reached; indeed, none is possible, unless we use elastic terms; for the thing meant is in process of growth, and an exact and full definition made to-day might not be adequate to-morrow. The friends of this phrase have seldom attempted to define; and one distinguished

among them has seemed to despair of making himself understood by theologians of the opposite party. The attempt to generalize a statement from the usage of the phrase among its friends, would lead to confusion. ought the phrase to mean? or, which it may mean if we so agree

I will then inquire, What rather, What thing is there ?

Consciousness is probably best defined as the power which the mind has to know immediately its own operations. The Christian consciousness may then be this power in a Christian; or, in a limited sense, it may be that part of the consciousness of a Christian which is not in the consciousness of a pagan. But this definition does not satisfy the usage of the terms by the advocates of the Christian consciousness. There is, however, a similar process of the mind which will, perhaps, fulfil all reasonable requirements. It may be described by analogy. An experienced machinist, brought before a machine that he never saw before, so quickly and surely comprehends it the strength of its parts, the relation of parts, and the effectiveness of the whole for its purpose that to one of no mechanical talent he seems to have a new faculty. We say he has a mechanical sense. Similarly one develops a literary sense, or an artistic sense, which gives him authority and other great advantage in literature or art. This sense is not infallible; it is simply a quicker, finer, and truer appreciation and judgment, which the professional man has in his own department, as compared with the non-professional. Now if there be any truth in the church doctrine of the great change wrought in a man by conversion and by the Christian life after conversion, we must infer that the Christian, especially one of long and profound experience, has the same kind of advantage over the pagan that the man of artistic genius and talent has over one not thus gifted. Granting for a moment that this power is of sufficient importance to require a name, we may call it the Christian sense, or instinct, or, without much strain on the term, Christian consciousness. It is, then, as a friend has defined, a new mode of knowing, made possible to the Christian by his experience in religion and by the stand6

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point which he has thereby reached. This definition will interpret some of the writings referring to the Christian consciousness.

Among the various other uses of the phrase, there is one which from its frequency deserves mention. The notion may be reached by observing the probable origin of it. Consciousness, properly defined, accompanies all the operations of the mind. In other words, all modes of activity are modes of consciousness: they are the field of consciousness; and are summed up as the conscious life of the individual, or, loosely speaking, the consciousness. This is, perhaps, a figure of specch naming a thing by its accompaniment. According to such a definition, the Christian consciousness is not the power of immediately knowing Christian activity in the soul, nor a Christian way of looking at things, but is the religious department of a Christian's mental activity; that is to say: it is the sum of the religious intuitions, convictions, beliefs, tendencies, of which the Christian is conscious. In short, the Christian furniture of the mind, the Christian character, is the Christian consciousness. Of the three things above indi cated, and capable of being denoted by the same phrase now under discussion, the first, though most proper to the phrase, is rejected as not in use; the second, "the Christian mode of apprehension," is used, and seems to have the greatest promise of usefulness; the third is merely the cause or condition of the second: "the Christian character" is that which gives one" the power to see things in a Christian way." In prac. tice, therefore, we shall not often go far wrong if we use the second and third as equivalent. The purpose of the present essay being partly historical, seems to require occasionally an omission of the distinction between them. But I shall try to make the distinction when it is necessary.

The use of the Christian consciousness as an authority in theology, is not confined to the professed followers of Schleiermacher. Many theologians of the opposing school, whether confessedly or not, are accustomed to rely much on the same power. Professor Bowne declares that "the emotional nature

including the ethical, has a right to be heard in determining what we may in religion believe." So theologians like Van Oosterzee and Martensen might be quoted. J. H. Froude expresses a common opinion when writing of the exquisite torture inflicted by the Scotch Puritans on the so-called witches, in pursuance of a theological dogma and against their better natures, he explains: "They did not know that the instincts of humanity are safer than the logic of theology." All this is exactly what the Andover men would say; it is an appeal to the Christian consciousness. Of the same sort is the doctrine of the testimonium Spiritus Sancti, held in all Christian times, and much quoted, and regarded as of great importance in religion and theology. So again is that much used argument for the truth of Christianity, by some deemed the chief argument, namely, the supreme satisfaction that Christianity brings to all the profound wants of our nature. "We are conscious of this satisfaction, and thereby we know that our religion is of God."

But the extent to which the Christian consciousness has been used in theology, is not commonly recognized even among theologians. This oversight is probably due in part to the lack of accurate definition, and to the straining of the terms, which have offended careful thinkers. A recent writer, discussing this subject, and seeming to miss the meaning of his words, quotes Luther as saying that "Christian doctrine is learned by the revelation of God Himself, first by the external word; then by the workings of God's Spirit inwardly." And again, referring to Luther's judgment on the value of the various parts of the Bible, he says, "Luther's principle was simply the measuring the books of the Bible by the preponderating teaching of the Book as a living whole." But this "teaching" is, of course, in general "Luther's apprehension of the teaching," made possible by the "workings of the Spirit" in him. Likewise the Scholastics taught that the order of Christian knowledge is, we first receive truth on trust, then when the Word has clarified, rectified, and invigorated the mind, we can understand the truth and demonstrate

it. The Mystics taught that man has power to lay hold on God and His truth immediately and within consciousness. St. John wrote: "Ye have an anointing from the Holy One, and ye know all things. . . And as for you, the anointing which ye received of Him abideth in you, and ye need not that any one teach you." All profound men, from St. John to Emerson, and all classes, from mystic to scholastic, have relied much on Christian tendencies, instincts and intuitions. It is a case of "semper, ubique, ab omnibus.”

But not only has the extent of the appeal to the Christian consciousness been overlooked, but the actual value or infuence of it in the formation or modification of opinions, has been, perhaps, quite as much underestimated. How is it that a dozen men of equal abilities, with the same religious facts before them, will often come to a dozen different conclusions? The answer in general is that they are differently constituted. Take an extreme example. The American Indian pictured his heaven as a happy hunting ground. The scholastic of the Middle Ages thought of heaven as a place where his intellect should be greatly strengthened and refined, so that he could even understand the Trinity. The Mystic desired only to lose himself in God. These differences in theology are due partly to differences in the original nature of the men, and partly to the different deposits left in them by their varying instruction and experiences. These make up their religious consciousness. These men, being such as they were, could scarcely think of heaven otherwise. It is not far different with all of us. So, as everybody remarks in these days, the kindlier Christian sentiments are visibly mitigating the harsher doctrines of former times. Even the theologians are influenced. There was the elder Hodge. He was a rigid Calvinist, but a gentle soul, designing no evil to his kind. Another has said of him: "He so loved little children that he made a chink in his logic to save them from hell." He went farther; he declared he never knew a Calvinist theologian who did believe in the damnation of unbaptized infants. He had not seen that doctrine in his creed; although he was able to see