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 (naì évedidúoketo) in purple and fine linen, enjoying himself day by day splendidly" (εὐφραινόμενος καθ' ἡμέραν λαμπρώς). Suppose, now, he had said: "There was a certain rich man, who was clothed (ôs évedidúoketo) in purple and fine linen, and enjoyed himself (xaì evþpaíveto) 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

class of miracles. It was of the nature of a sign, designed not so much for instruction and edification, as for the conviction of unbelievers. It by no means follows that such direct verbal suggestion was the exclusive or common mode of inspiration. Revelations were often made in the form of images addressed to the internal sense, or of immediate inward illumination, or by a combination of these modes with language. Isaiah's vision of Jehovah enthroned in the temple will furnish a good illustration.2 He heard the words of the seraphim and of God himself, and these he has faithfully recorded. But what he saw was a part of the revelation, as well as what he heard. The seraph that applied to his lips a live coal from the altar explained to him the meaning of the transaction; but the transaction itself, with all the rest of the vision, was described by him from what he saw, not from words which he heard. He chose his own words, under the illumination of the Holy Ghost, so that in spirit, form, and matter they were agreeable to his will; and why need we go any further? God had endowed his servant with the capacity of describing clearly and faithfully what he saw, as well as what he heard. There can be no reasonable objection to supposing that the Spirit now made use of this endowment, not in vain show, but in reality; so that the prophet's words were properly his own, and at the same time the words of the Spirit, as containing the record of a revelation made by him which was in all respects according to his mind. As a second illustration, we may take Joseph's interpretation of Pharaoh's dreams.3 The dreams themselves contained a revelation from God; but their contents needed to be interpreted. So far as appears from the narrative, Joseph received from the Holy Spirit, the moment he heard the dreams, a divine illumination as to their meaning, which he proceeded to unfold in words which were as really his own as were Pharaoh's; only that Pharaoh spoke without, and he with, the illumination and guidance of the Spirit. 11 Cor. xiv. 22. See further in Appendix, Note B.

8 Gen. xli.

2 Isa. vi.