lack of organic unity and the exceeding flexibility of all its forms of gov ernment fully guard against any possible danger from that source. The unity of Methodism, like that of "the Holy Catholic Church,” is spiritual and not organic, religious and not ecclesiastical, all of which the occasion abundantly illustrated and emphasized; and in proportion as the organic and ecclesiastical conditions were kept out of sight, the oneness of essential Methodism became all the more manifest; and accordingly the assembly so brought together and constituted found itself free to devote its opportunities to social and congratulatory expressions, to reminiscences of past achievements, and to the glorification of its "heroes," instead of earnest deliberations on measures and methods of action; and within its purposes the "Conference " seems to have been a decided success.

These things are, however, still in the condition of passing affairs, and scarcely sufficiently matured to be considered in their completed results; and for their making up we must await the publication of the volume that shall give the proceedings in detail, with the papers read and considered. But some of the principal facts of the case were manifest and complete in themselves, and these are, perhaps, the most significant and suggestive of all that appeared on the occasion, and these fall within the range of our appropriate discussions.

To the thoughtful observer the most notable fact of the gathering was the bigness of the constituency represented. Each delegate had behind him more than twenty thousand church members, or fifty thousand persons, of various ages and relations. And besides these, with a less direct and more distant, but still somewhat effective, relationship, as many more. Reckoning the population of the country as one half, that is, twenty-five millions, really and effectively Protestant,-including in the other half the Romanists and all kinds and classes of quasi-religionists and the entirely irreligious,it is not too much to claim for Methodism ten millions of these as of its type, and most nearly subject to its influences. To this estate it has attained, in very little more than a hundred years, by its aggressive energy, for it is at once the youngest of the great divisions of American Protestantism, and it has won its way against the opposition of all others, rather than with their favor; which facts certainly speak well for the effectiveness of its methods. But to the serious and conscientious Methodist observer these wonderful facts must suggest the most sobering reflections. They show to what a condition of responsibility the divine Providence has brought this body of Christians, and how great is the duty that comes with such opportunities; and they suggest that while there may be a degree of fitness in looking back and pausing to recount the wonderful things that God has wrought out for this people, there is also great need to remember the admonition against boasting before the victory is achieved. For a hundred years Methodism has been gathering her recruits, and preparing for the impending campaign against the powers of darkness; but the heaviest battles are yet to be fought, and the victory, already assured, must be won by mighty faith manifesting itself in indomitable labors and self-denials.

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As in military affairs mere numbers are not a certain guarantee of success, quite as much so does this consideration apply to church work; and, therefore, in estimating the power and availability of Methodism, other properties and conditions must be taken into the account. And here, while we must freely confess our great and sad deficiencies, and our lamentable failures to measure up to the required conditions for realizing the high ideals of Christian aggressiveness, it is due both to the cause and to ourselves to properly appreciate all the advantages that we have. The place of Methodism in American Protestantism is a decidedly advantageous one. Its numerical greatness is a fact not to be despised, for it gives both strength and opportunities, and compels the respectful recognition of the other divisions of the "grand army." Its theological atmosphere has extended itself over the whole evangelical host; its spiritual tone and life has permeated it and become its own; while its liberal and flexible organization adapts it to all emergencies, and its aggressive methods fit it especially for the work most needed to be done. The keynote struck by Wesley, in his sermons Against Bigotry " and "On a Catholic Spirit," has never been lost by his followers; for though there may have been individual cases of narrowness, yet these have been only exceptional and outside of the prevailing spirit of the body. It is by the influence of this spirit that the essential unity of Methodism has been maintained in all lands, and among widely variant ecclesiastical organisms and social customs; and by virtue of it the wide chasm that originally separated it from all other evangelical denominations has been effectually bridged. Its attitude, even more than its words, toward Christians of other names has been that indicated by the Psalmist, "I am a companion of all them that fear the Lord, and of them that keep his precepts." It is pronounced in all its purposes, readily declaring for the right, without waiting to see whether or not it is likely to be popular. It is instinctively aggressive, alike in spirit and in form; it is all alive, with a wonderful facility for casting off any effete and non-adjustable parts-altogether a vast reservoir of religious potentialities, as yet only very partially realized. In two directions-in learning and wealth-Methodism has very largely increased its resources and capabilities, and, it may be feared, without a corresponding increase of its moral and religious efficiency. They who have been most closely related to the mind and thought of the denomination for the past half century are the best prepared to appreciate the very great advances that have been made. We talk and write of our great men of the times of the fathers; and they were great in their adaptations and in their work. They belonged to their own age, and robly measured up to its requirements, and achieved great results. But changed conditions make other and vastly increased demands upon the men of the present time, for which their enlarged advantages, to a good degree, qualify them; and these also lay upon them the most sacred obligations. Whether with these advantages they still retain the spirit and devotion of the fathers is a question of the highest significance. The Head of the Church has not brought together this host, so disciplined and qualified,

without a commensurately high and sacred purpose; but who will say that the work they are doing makes any near approach to the demands and the possibilities of the case? There is, no doubt, some deficiency of selfdenying devotion, and of personal self-sacrifice, but of these there is very much more than is made available. The Church's order and methods of Christian work afford very little opportunity for spontaneous religious zeal, and it is possible that both faith and hope may be repressed through lack of opportunities. But that still a good degree of enthusiasm exists is shown by the manner in which William Taylor's call for volunteers is responded to; and though it may be suspected that the motives that control in these things may be largely tinged with human admixtures, it is equally manifest that there is also in them an element of Christian heroism that ought to be utilized. No higher duty now awaits the directing hand of the governing minds and hearts of Methodism, from the chief ministers down to the pastors and laity of the churches, than the effective utilization of its working forces. It will be worse than useless to recount past successes, to set up our Ebenezers, singing "Hither by thy help I'm come," and to tell of our millions of converts, unless these reviews of our forces are made preparatory to better organizing for action, and the more adequate employment of our capabilities.

Ours is an age of money-making, of unprecedented financial increase, and of all this Methodists have received much more than their numerical proportion. While the denomination has doubled and redoubled its membership, their wealth has increased by a much larger ratio; and no problem of greater importance, or more difficult of a satisfactory solution, now confronts the Church than how the perils of such an increase of wealth may be avoided, and the money with which God is endowing his Church, in the persons of its members, may be used for the furtherance of his work. The danger of possessing, and especially of gaining wealth, is declared and emphasized by Christ and his apostles, and these warnings have been reiterated till they have become commonplaces of the pulpit and the religious press; but the golden game proceeds without abatement, and the Methodists are rapidly becoming a wealthy denomination. A very few have come to rightly apprehend this matter, and faithfully to employ the talents intrusted to them in the service of the Master, so making for themselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; but to many more, it may be feared, the censure of the apostle is only too aptly fitting: “Your gold and silver is cankered, and the rust of them shall be a witness against you. . . . Ye have lived in pleasure on the earth, and been wanton." The wealth given to Christians is a divine provision for the furtherance of the Gospel; and in order that they may serve God in that way, he has, in the orderings of his providence, made money a needed agency in his work, and at the same time given it to his people to be so used, not by the very rich only, but by all, according as God hath prospered each one. The work in which the Church has become engaged, and to which it should direct its efforts, calls loudly for not inconsiderable amounts of money for its successful prosecution in the immediate future-for churches,

for schools, for missions, and for works of charity in behalf of the souls and bodies of men; and no other lesson taught by the "Centennial" calls more loudly or imperatively for devout attention and willing obedience than this demand for the consecration of wealth for the promotion of Christ's kingdom. And though we are aware of the power of worldliness, and of the "deceitfulness of riches," we still believe that this demand will be much more largely complied with hereafter than it has been at any time heretofore.

ments.

THE RATIONALE OF BELIEF.

The confusion both in the common and cultured mind respecting the extent to which one is responsible for what he believes, especially if it relate to religious truth, arises chiefly from a misunderstanding of the faith-principle, and an imperfect analysis of its contents and requireCareless statements and well-nigh meaningless platitudes on the subject, to the making of which the pulpit has contributed its share, have gone forth and been reiterated with such emphasis as to impress men that they are legitimate deductions from the Scriptures, and must be accepted as the condition of temporal good and final salvation. A survey of the foundations of belief will dissipate the common error, since it will be seen that belief is and is not within the mind's control, or subject to the volition and judgment of the believer. The beliefs that men entertain are of two kinds, for only one of which they are responsible. The beliefs that are the products of nature, or whose root is contained in consciousness, and those that are the product of thought, or whose root is in voluntary mental action, differ radically in character; and, by as much as they differ in origin and character, by so much does responsibility for them differ.

The

Both of these beliefs are common to the experience of the race. first we denominate spontaneous, universal, intuitional, or primary beliefs. Fundamental to human nature, they belong to every man, whether he is a savage or a Christian. To use the striking language of Professor Bowne, they are the "raw rudiments of consciousness," but in their "raw" state they are the constituent elements of manhood, the signs of a common humanity. Moreover, they are regulative as well as constitutive, distinguishing the true, the right, the beautiful, the good, and impelling to these things by a resistless under-ground swell, of the conscious life. Acute in distinction, they are forceful in persuasion, and consciousness is shocked at a refusal of the mind to co-operate and obey. If asked to name these "innate" ideas, which must be done to give value to our discrimination, we should place among them the ideas of right and wrong, of finite and infinite, of cause and effect, of substance ard quality, of unity and multiplicity, upon which character may be built, or from which original, though perhaps not acquired, character may be evolved.

For these original ideas, notions, or conceptions-"common-sense" beliefs, Reid calls them-man is no more responsible than an elephant for his proboscis, or the sun for his rising.

However, let us guard this point. Though not responsible for his intuitions, man is nevertheless responsible for their use or application. It is true they impel him; it is equally true he uses them. They are the natural instruments of character, ever dominant and self-acting, and yet the subjects of training, development, and education. No one is responsible for having a conscience; he is responsible for the use he makes of it. He may bandage, suppress, bury the natural forces of character, the volitional energies of mind, the intuitional revelations of the soul, in which case he will inflict damage upon himself; or he may conform to righteousness and obtain its rewards, by the culture of consciousness and giving to the intuitions the right of way in his life. An uncultured conscience may provoke fanaticism just as an unenlightened judgment may turn to superstition. If in their "raw" condition the intuitions are sensitive and impelling, what would be their force if trained, matured, and regulated in activity? The power to hinder the intuitions and the power to invigo rate and employ them is the measure of the responsibility for their use.

The second class of beliefs we denominate reflective or derivative, inasmuch as they are not original with nature, or the spontaneous products of the consciousness. Professor Bowne ("Metaphysics," page 16) says: "Very many of our beliefs are effects, and not conclusions. They are produced in us, and not deduced by us." A spontaneous belief is an effect of nature; a deduced belief is a conclusion from investigation of facts, principles, relations, and must, therefore, be voluntary. Evidence, inquiry, and knowledge, absent in spontaneous belief, are the conditions of a reflective belief which gains in trustworthiness according to the investigation that has preceded it. A spontaneous belief precedes investigation, is not dependent on it, though it acquires strength from knowledge; a reflective belief succeeds investigation, and is baseless without it. The former is an unoriginated certainty; the latter is a creative form of thought, resulting from comparison of facts, and a purpose to harmonize them in the unity of a formula of faith.

Evidently, for a reflective belief, derived from the directive work of the mind, man is thoroughly responsible. The duty to believe any thing beyond the revelations of consciousness imposes the duty to investigate the subject proposed to our credence, and to believe only as the facts warrant. To this law of faith even scriptural truth is subject, since it addresses human intelligence, and appeals to the reason and to experience for confirmation. To exempt divine revelation from the rule of investigation would amount to a confession that it cannot be investigated, that is, that, being supernatural in character, it is entirely beyond rational apprehension, which, if true, would unfit it for human scrutiny; or, that it cannot bear investigation, which implies that it is not what it professes to be,— in which case it should be abandoned. This is an era of "biblical criticism," the justification of which is, that divine truth in the written form,