perfect theism: when[1] the kingdom shall be "delivered up to God," "that God may be all in all." Still, I can not help being struck with an impression that Mr. Huxley appears to cite these terms of Micah, as if they reduced the work of religion from a difficult to a very easy performance. But look at them again. Examine them well. They are, in truth, in Cowper's words—
Higher than the heights above,
Deeper than the depths beneath.
Do justly, that is to say, extinguish self; love mercy, cut utterly away all the pride and wrath, and all the cupidity, that make this fair world a wilderness; walk humbly with thy God, take His will and set it in the place where thine own was used to rule. "King out the old, ring in the new." Pluck down the tyrant from his place; set up the true Master on His lawful throne.
There are certainly human beings, of happy composition, who mount these airy heights with elastic step, and with unbated breath.
Sponte suâ, sine lege, fidem rectumque colebat.[2]
This comparative refinement of nature in some may even lead them to undervalue the stores of that rich armory, which Christianity has provided to equip us for our great life-battle. The text of the prophet Micah, developed into all the breadth of St. Paul and St. Augustine, is not too much—is it not often all too little?—for the needs of ordinary men.
I must now turn, by way of epilogue, to Professor Max Müller; and I hope to show him that on the questions which he raises we are not very far apart. One grievous wrong, indeed, he does me in (apparently) ascribing to me the execrable word "theanthromorphic" (N. C. p. 9:20), of which I wholly disclaim the paternity, and deny the use. Then he says, I warn him not to trust too much to etymology (p. 921). Not so. But only not to trust to it for the wrong purpose, in the wrong place: just as I should not preach on the virtue and value of liberty to a man requiring handcuffs. I happen to bear a name known, in its genuine form, to mean stones or rocks frequented by the gled; and probably taken from the habitat of its first bearer. Now, if any human being should ever hereafter make any inquiry about me, trace my name to its origin, and therefore describe the situation of my dwelling, he would not use etymology too much, but would use it ill. What I protest against is a practice, not without example, of taking the etymology of mythologic names in Homer, and thereupon supposing that in all cases we have thus obtained a guide to their Homeric sense. The place of Nereus in the mind of the poet is indisputable; and here etymology helps us. But when a light-etymology is found for Hera, and it is therefore asserted
