of sweetness. Immediately there exists in his mind, in a concrete form, independently of language, the judgment which, when put into words, is expressed in the proposition: 66 Sugar is sweet." The same is true of all our original supersensuous and spiritual ideas, such as those of right and wrong, moral freedom and responsibility, causes efficient and final, etc., and of all the simple judgments which they involve. They neither are, nor can be, given by language. This we understand the author fully to admit. But in his view, if we rightly understand him, they are not thoughts, but things about which thoughts may be employed. This is employing the word "thoughts" in a very narrow and technical way. In common usage our simple, primitive judgments are classed among thoughts as really as our discursive judgments. And they must exist from the beginning as knowledge of which we are conscious; else we could never put them into language, and reason concerning them. Our emotions and feelings, again, which involve so many simple judgments, and with the account of which the scriptures are so largely occupied, come to us originally, as the writer admits, independently of language. These, also, he excludes from the domain of thoughts, as the word is employed by him. We infer, therefore, that he restricts the application of the term to what may be called "discursive thought," that is, that form of thought in which the mind proposes to itself its ideas, beliefs, judgments, feelings, etc., as objects of consideration, for the purpose of examining them and reasoning concerning them, or of communicating them to others.

2. To discursive thought, in the sense just defined, language of some kind is necessary; and the progress of the human mind depends mainly upon the greater or less degree of perfection which belongs to it. This we see strikingly illustrated in the case of the uneducated deaf and dumb, who have only the imperfect language of natural signs. For all the higher forms of knowledge it is hardly possible to exaggerate the importance of spoken and written language.

We cannot even analyze into its constituent parts the simple proposition, "God is good," without its help. Much less can we gain for ourselves, impart to others, or receive from them knowledge which involves the processes of abstraction, generalization, and deduction.

3. The office of language, then, as already remarked, is to make our thoughts objective to ourselves, for the purpose of examining them, reasoning concerning them, and communicating them to others. We begin with our primary ideas, beliefs, feelings, etc. These must, from the nature of the case, exist independently of language, since they are not given by or with language, but are the very materials about which language is employed. They must also exist as conscious knowledge; otherwise, we could not propose them to ourselves as objects of thought and discourse. In language we take this primitive stock of elemental thought, and, by the processes of analysis, generalization, etc., we deduce from it new thoughts, which, in their turn, are made by the help of language the objects of further examination. So we proceed both in gaining knowledge for ourselves and in imparting knowledge to others. To say, then, that we cannot be conscious of thought except as embodied in language of some kind, is an unwarrantable assertion. But it is true that we cannot make thought an object of consideration or communication to others without language.

4. We have seen the office of language. The question now arises concerning its essential nature. Is it the express image of thought, in such a sense that when a certain thought is given - we mean, of course, given as an object of the mind's consideration- it is necessarily and always given in just so many particular words, expressed or easily understood, and in just such a particular order? Here the natural language of signs may afford a pertinent illustration. When the French woman, coming out from the revolutionary tribunal, indicated to her anxious friends the result of the trial by a significant movement of her hand across the back of her neck, a certain thought was given, and by a sign, too,

that was "perfectly commensurate" with the thought conveyed, in the sense that it was a perfectly adequate declaration of it. But it was not connected, in her mind or theirs, at least, not certainly and necessarily, with a given number of words arranged in a given order, but might have been put into spoken or written language in half a dozen different ways, all of them equally appropriate.

But let us take some examples directly from the language of words. The Latin says: "Est mihi liber, there is to me a book; Est mihi dominus, there is to me a master; Est mihi servus, there is to me a servant," etc. Here we have an example of extreme generalization. The material idea. of "approach to" contained in the dative case is taken to indicate figuratively, not any definite relation, but a relation in the widest sense; for it would puzzle any man living to enumerate all the relations that can be included in the formula "est mihi." The hearer or reader gathers for himself the particular character of the relation that is meant from the known nature of the subject. But this is not all. The speaker can express the same thought, lying consciously in his mind, by an entirely different artifice. He can say: "Habeo librum, dominum, servum; I have a book, master, servant," etc., when the same extreme generalization is contained in the verb "habeo, I have." Here the mode of indication is different, and therefore the words used; but the matter is in both cases identical. The same thought, then, can be embodied in more than one form of words. And, if this is true of simple sentences, how much more of connected discourse. Here the variations that can be introduced without changing the substance of the thought are very numerous. We can, for example, connect a clause with the preceding by the simple conjunction “and," or give it a relative or participial form. Into how many forms clauses which express design can be put, all understand. The capacity of employing this variety in the expression of thought comes from the essential nature of language. It is not "the perfect counterpart and correlate" of thought in

such a sense that if a certain thought be given, it must necessarily be given in a certain form of words, and no other. Language is rather an outline-system of signs for indicating thought, in which, oftentimes, various expedients may be employed to accomplish the same end. In proof of this, we need only refer to the well-known fact that several different translators of equal ability, in rendering into one and the same language a passage equally well understood by all of them, will not necessarily use the same turns of expression any more than the same words. And if this is true of several different translators, how much more of several independent narrators, who all give, with equal clearness and fidelity, an account of the same transaction? If it be said that every variation in the words or turn of expression implies a like variation in the thought, the answer is, that in many cases the variation respects only the mode of indicating the thought, and not the thought itself. Our Saviour says, according to Luke's narrative: "There was a certain rich man, and he was clothed (kaì évedidúoketo) in purple and fine linen, enjoying himself day by day splendidly" (εὐφραινόμενος καθ' ἡμέραν λαμπρῶς). Suppose, now, he had said: "There was a certain rich man, who was clothed (ds évedidúσketo) in purple and fine linen, and enjoyed himself (ral evopaiveтo) day by day splendidly," what would have been the difference? About the same as the difference between receiving a check for a thousand dollars in a white or a brown envelope. The questions respecting the solvency of the drawer and the genuineness of the signature are of primary importance; but the form and color of the envelope are of little account.

5. The end which the Holy Ghost proposes to accomplish by inspiration, namely, the revelation to men of an infallible rule of faith and practice, is the main thing, not the particular method or methods by which it shall be accomplished. To limit him who made the human mind, and has immediate access to it in its first springs of thought and feeling, is an act of irreverence, and a needless act, too; for, if the revela

tion be made and recorded according to the mind of the Spirit, why insist upon the particular method as one of the essential things? The writer whose theory we are considering asks, if the words of scripture were in any case selected by men-"if men's agency was in any degree exerted in their selection, how are they the exclusive and infallible words of God?" The answer is at hand: They were the infallible words of God, because they contained an infallible revelation from God, in a form agreeable to his will. And as to their being the exclusive words of God, that was not necessary, since his plan was to exert his agency through human agency. But the writer proceeds to say: "It is not a conclusive or satisfactory answer to this question to say that they were infallibly guided. For, supposing them to have been so guided, if the act of selecting the words was their act, then the words selected were their words." Well, supposing that the words selected were their words, what is the difference? They were the words of the Holy Spirit, too; for they contained an infallible revelation from him, in a form altogether agreeable to his will. What else was needed? Did not men thus receive the same saving truth as if he had spoken from heaven, or had pronounced the words of the revelation, syllable by syllable, in the ear of the speaker or writer? The error here consists in magnifying the mode of the revelation above its contents. It is bringing into the sphere of inspiration the spirit of formalism; for the essence of formalism consists in the undue exaltation of the outward mode, by which men's thoughts and interest are diverted from the essential to the non-essential.

The bearing of the above principles on the question of verbal inspiration is obvious. Let us apply them, first, to the case of new revelations received by inspiration of the Spirit. Many of these were given immediately in human language. In the case of the gift of tongues, the words seem to have been directly suggested by the Spirit. But we must remember that this gift belonged essentially to the