and gladly go forth as the messengers of peace to preach His Gospel, willing to meet danger, even death, in the mission field, if so called, as true and devoted servants of their crucified Lord.

ADDRESSES.

The Right Rev. ALFRED BARRY, D.D., Assistant-Bishop in the Diocese of Rochester, late Bishop of Sydney and Primate of Australia.

FROM the overwhelming greatness of the subject as a whole, I choose the only portion on which I can speak from some personal knowledge-the reflex action on the Church at home of those colonial Churches, which have grown, in different degrees of organization, out of colonial missions, and some of the lessons which their history may teach or suggest.

Let me say at the outset that all these depend essentially on the recognition of one important principle-the true solidarity, under whatever details of relation, of the Church as a whole. What the colonies are to the mother country, that mutatis mutandis the colonial Churches-perhaps I ought to say the colonial branches of the Church-are to the mother Church at home. Both are what have been happily called simple expansions of England, as in State, so in Church. Our daughter Churches have, no doubt, some varieties of character, and very much of internal independence; but still, both by their historic growth and by their own express declarations, they are one in life, in doctrine, in worship, and to a great degree even in discipline, with the old ecclesiastical stem from which they have sprung. This world-wide net-work of relations has perhaps grown upon us so gradually that we have hardly grasped its importance. As Professor Seeley says of England itself, we have ecclesiastically "conquered and occupied half a world in pure absence of mind.” But there is a distinct awakening now. As men are coming to see the truth in things civil, and repudiating the former narrow and timid policy of a willing or apathetic disintegration, so I cannot but think that the phase of Church life, which was most anxious for independence of the colonial Churches, in relation especially to some points of law and some accidents of Establishment, is passing by; and it is beginning to be seen that, while this may be left safely to take care of itself, the greater need now pressing upon us is the cultivation of unity-a free and elastic, but yet real unity. The future both of the world and of the Church seems to lie between Empire and Federation. In things ecclesiastical, Rome is the imperious representative of the one; the Anglican Communion should be the world-wide embodiment of the other. It is a singular illustration of that unity of law which modern research is continually discovering, that the law of our material planetary system—the balance of central gravitation by the centrifugal velocity, which at every point represents the tangential tendency to independent motion-is equally the law of human nature, and so of human society, even that Divinely ordered and inspired human society which we call the Church. For its true well-being there must be right harmony of expansion with concentration, or, as perhaps it may be put, of the more obvious extension in length and breadth with the even more important extension in depth and height. The colonial Churches seem to me to supply especially the first, while they have to look to the Church at home, with its older, deeper, maturer strength and culture, for the second.

Like the colonies themselves, they are, first of all, outlets of spiritual enterprise and energy, encouraged by the visible signs of an unceasing and unhasting advance, in new regions continually won for the banner of the Cross, new foundations continually laid for the Christianity of the future. They are, next, by the very fact of their smaller scale, their simpler conditions of ecclesiastical organization and civil relations, their younger and cruder life, the right fields of new venture and experiment, which could hardly be safely made with the complex greatness and central importance of the Church at home, but from which that Church has already learnt and profited much. They have been, again, the chief means of breaking through, or rather expanding to world-wide dimensions, what has been called the insularity of the English Church; so arousing it at once to a truer conception of Catholicity itself, and a larger consciousness of the mission which God's Providence seems to have assigned to us for the right maintenance and furtherance of that Catholicity. The visible growth, which the three successive meetings of the Lambeth Conference have manifested is, I believe, only the outward sign and embodiment of this spiritual expansion of principle, idea, aspiration, which has told by reflex influence on the whole body of the Church here.

Let me illustrate what has been here said generally by some definite examples of this important influence :

The colonial Churches have perforce led the way in that progress to true synodical action and government, towards which the Church at home has made some important steps, but which as yet she is far from adequately reaching. Even in them the first advance was not made without anxiety, without hesitation. It was feared that there might be in it danger of disruption and rashness; that there might be interference with episcopal and ministerial authority; that they might foster the factiousness and disorder which have disgraced even great historical Church assemblies. But although of course there have been here, as in all, even the most sacred institutions, many defects of human frailty, it is not too much to say that all these dangers have proved utterly visionary. The Divine blessing, solemnly invoked on their counsels, has not been invoked in vain. As a bishop, I always felt my position strengthened, and not weakened, by the existence, and vigorous existence, of the Synod. In it the freedom and self-government, which the Providence of God seems everywhere to be teaching humanity, were felt as the secret of Church life and growth and energy. And the power of a free, elastic unity, founded on an essential oneness of principle, has so manifested itself as to overbear all tendencies to crude rashness and disintegration. When the Church in England makes, as I believe she must make, some decisive claim of true synodical self-government, she will be able to draw invaluable encouragement and guidance from the humbler experience of the colonial Churches. Then next, in connection with this synodical development, there is brought out, as essential what is to my mind-though I am touching here, I know, upon controverted ground-the true constitutional position of the faithful laity. In all (so far as I know) of the colonial synods, courts, assemblies, the laity are recognised as having, without formal restriction or limitation, their place as of right, in the counsels and decisions of the Church; and, moreover—a matter of infinite importance to efficient and harmonious working-the two orders are never separated. They may, if they will, vole separately, but synodical canons require the concurrence of both. They sit and deliberate together, and in this provision lies the chief practical security for free interchange of mutual influence, and for avoidance of danger of rivalry and collision. This position of the laity is a matter of essential and all-important principle, on which it is clear to me that Churchmen must think seriously and make up their minds. For my own part, I rejoice in it. I believe that it belongs to the right idea of the con

stitution of the Church. I believe that it trenches not in the slightest degree on the true sacredness of the ministry. I believe that in the privilege and responsibility of constitutional power there is a safeguard against arbitrary lay prejudice and usurpation. But, whatever view we may take of it, it is a question which in the synodical action of the future has to be resolutely faced; and here again I feel sure that the experience of the colonial Churches will, on any supposition, be of infinite use to the inexpressibly important and critical duty of those who have to guide the great Church at home.

Then, once more, our colonial Church experience seems to accentuate with some special emphasis the all-but universal sense of the need of some greater elasticity in our Church government, and ritual, and system—not change of principles; for on the maintenance of these the colonial Synods have shown themselves strongly conservative-but greater freedom and variety in their practical development and application. Now that the work of our Church has become, by its world-wide extension, largely evangelistic, coming in contact with new and varying problems, conditions, opportunities, the system grown and perfected in days gone by with a view to the more limited and more pastoral mission of the Church, in a settled and mature civilization, will not adequately meet all our needs. Liberty, no doubt, is taken; but unregulated liberty is licence and vagary. Synod after synod has cried out for a legal, and therefore safe and wise, elasticity of work, government, and worship. Reluctant as they mostly are to move, except under the leadership of the Church at home, it may possibly be found best that here also the colonial Churches should occupy that experimental position of which I have spoken; and the experiment-itself, I know, arduous and hazardous—may suggest both guidance and inspiration to grander and maturer action for the whole body of the Church.

And similarly (though I can but glance in passing at a subject which has been dealt with elsewhere) the extension of the Church through our colonies also lends new emphasis to the sense of the need and duty of advance—cautious, if you will, but not timid or languid-towards what is called Home Reunion. All the evils and dangers of our unhappy divisions, strongly enough felt here, are greatly intensified there by the very struggle for existense and extension, and the fatal advantage given by sectarian jealousies on the one hand to a compact and resolute Roman absolutism, on the other to a fanatic or despondent secularism, which on some points seem, perhaps unconsciously, to enter upon an unnatural alliance. You will remember without surprise that the strongest representations on this subject to the great Lambeth Conference came from the American and colonial Churches. They will wait, I think, anxiously yet dutifully, on the action to be taken here. But they will be grievously disappointed, if all action be shrunk from or indefinitely postponed.

Lastly, let me express strongly my own conviction that colonial experience should impress on Churchmen at home the enormous advantage of that national relation which we call establishment—not, of course, as essential to the Church's authority, but certainly as in the highest degree conducive to her fullest influence and usefulness. I do not refer solely or mainly to the endowment, which is in practice connected with it, although it is of very great value, as often enabling the Church to do much which ought to be done, and which yet lies beyond the narrow sphere of obvious necessity, and guarding the independence of the clergy against the extreme pressure of the so-called "voluntary system." I have in my mind the far greater privilege of a right of spiritual leadership in all that concerns the acts of national Christianity—a privilege to the Church because it enables her better to serve the nation. Of course there are higher considerations, to which, as a matter of duty, these things must be sacrificed. But though I hear sometimes from within and from without of a bondage of the clergy, I venture to hold that for the spiritual work of their ministry there is in all

Christendom no body of men so free as the clergy of the Church of England are now. I acknowledge that hindrance of the full development of self-government in the Church, and the indefinite delay of ecclesiastical legislation, through connection with the State, are full of most serious evil. But I hold that these are not legitimate or reasonable consequences of establishment. They are abuses of it, which Churchmen should insist on sweeping away, and which, if they are bold and united, they are strong enough to sweep away. All colonial experience seems to me to say plainly, Improve, modify, correct the old connection of Church and State which has been the glory of the past; but, even were its drawbacks greater than they are, do not fling it away, do not tamely suffer it to be taken from you, for the sake, no doubt, of the well-being of the Church, but for the sake far more of English Christianity."

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These are some of the reflex influences of the splendid outgrowth granted to our Church in this last half-century. God grant that the reflux from the vigorous members of the body may quicken and strengthen the heart!

The Right Rev. JOHN RICHARDSON SELWYN, D.D., Lord Bishop of Melanesia.

I CONFESS When I first saw the subject which had been selected for the Missionary meeting of the Congress, and that I had to speak, I felt as I used to feel at Eton when I had verses given to me, that I wanted some sense, because if I look at the reciprocal duties of the Church at home and at the missions, I know very well what are considered to be the duties of the mother Church; they may be compared very well to that of the mother bird with a number of young ones in the nest. All the young ones have to do is to open their mouths and to say "more." And that is what we missionaries principally have to say. We have to ask for men, money, sympathy. But what are our duties? It is difficult to see clearly what to put before you. Still, I think there is one duty which all missions may discharge, viz., by showing that the young ones of the Church, as the young ones of the nest, benefit by the nursing of their mother. We ought to show that we are growing, and that we are benefiting by the help that we receive.

Now I think that what you would like to have from me is what you have had from Archdeacon Farler. I wish to take, first of all, the mental aspect in which you should regard missions. I will say something rather paradoxical. "Demand more, and demand less." Demand more. I think that we shall have a fresh attack shortly on missions, not as regards their failure, but as regards their usefulness at all. There have been some ominous letters lately as to the state of negroes in Hayti and in America, and people say, "look at these negro races, and see what is done to them by contact with civilization and by such Christianity as they have received." I ask you first of all not to be led away by such thoughts as these. Go on sending missionaries out to these various places, because our Lord has said it, and because you believe that they can receive the Gospel of Christ. I want you to believe that they can not only receive it, but that they can be used as missionaries themselves to spread the Gospel. I shall never forget the feeling that was excited by the speech of my dear father to the American Church at Baltimore on that very subject, which he based on a pregnant verse of the great apostle S. Paul. He quoted that line which S. Paul has in his epistle to Titus, “ Κρῆτες ἀεὶ ψεῦσται, κακὰ θηρία, γαστέρες ἀργαί” (Tit. i. 12). “The Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, slow bellies." And yet, he said, that it was from these very Cretans that Titus was told to ordain elders in every city; that these liars

were to proclaim the law of truth, that these evil beasts were to preach the gospel of our peace, and that from these slow bellies were to flow forth rivers of living water. Now, friends, that is our experience, and the experience, I have no doubt, of my friend Archdeacon Farler, who told you, as I tell you, that you can find among these degraded races many who are doing and will do a great work among their countrymen, and in a way which no English missionary could accomplish it. We want the white men, as my father said, to be the corks which support the black net; we want the white men to be their guides, and to uphold the great system and fabric of the Christian Church; men who inspire all subordinates beneath them with the power of work. But you will find men of all races of the earth who are fit to proclaim the Gospel of Christ, not only by their words, but by their lives. Now, why do I believe that? That is the message which I have to bring home to you. Why do I believe it? Because I have seen it. I work amongst the most degraded people, in some ways, on the face of the earth. The men who go about those islands, the white men, hold up their heads and say, "I never saw such people, why do you stay among them ?" I like to hear them say that, because when I see these natives work, as I have seen them work, I feel that there is no race, no nation, no soul, which the Gospel cannot reach. Take the history of Charles Sapibuana, a boy gathered from the wildest island in the Pacific-an island where almost every bay has been the scene of some massacre. He came to our school and was trained there, and then he went back to his own countrymen, and they told him they would kill him if he taught. He said, "kill me if you like "—he was only a boy of nineteen years-"but I am going to preach." He was backed up most ably by my friend Mr. Penny, but a great deal of the work, as my friend would be the first to confess, was done by that young man. He became a deacon. Simply by his power, his love, and his trust in God, he became the leading man in Florida. Whilst he was absent from his island there was a terrible murder, in which the chief of his district was concerned. The captain of a man-of-war was killed, with five of his boat's crew. Charles got the men to give up these murderers. He came down with the chief to give him up on board the man-of-war on the promise of his life, and the people, when he went down, said he would never come back again. They could hardly believe their eyes when they saw their chief return alive. He is dead now, but he died lamented and revered by every man in Florida. I lived with him in daily intercourse for weeks and weeks, and I know that he lived by the power of the Spirit of God. He worked with as much of that Spirit as any clergyman here before me. Was that man living in communion with the saints?

Again, there was a young boy-I can hardly call him a man—a young fellow, twenty-two years of age, who died on the Island of Opa last year. He went down to his own island, one of the worst, because it has been made so by civilization. He worked there on a uphill task for some years. He was gaining ground where nobody else could gain ground, when he was mortally wounded through an accident by one of his own boys. For fourteen days that young man lay in the agony of a mortal wound, breathing with difficulty the whole of the time, with no aid or solace whatever, yet all the time he kept on speaking to his people, and telling them to hold fast to the Faith he had taught them. The morning he was dying, the chapel bell was ringing for prayers-and you know how a dying man shrinks from the approach of death, and dreads to be left alone. But hearing the chapel bell, he said, never mind me; go, I am going to sleep." He fell asleep in Christ. Was that man living in Christ or not? I ask you from your hearts. One other case: I speak of one of my dear friends who lay for three years in our school at Norfolk Island, dying of slow consumption. For three years he was doing all he could, by his gentle influence, to win the boys of the school, going out, when he could, to his work