some human, but not all, become divine." But the principle is the same, as if all mineral did become vegetable, etc. It may become vegetable, probably in its turn will become vegetable; there is no partiality or preference on the part of Nature. The same in the higher spheres. All men are approximately divine, such men as Plato and Paul vastly more so, of course, than the great mass of men; but the difference is one of degree, not of kind, like the difference between the half-fliers and the perfect fliers among the birds. Yet Professor Drummond dare affirm that certain members of a species are endowed with a kind of life which is denied to certain other members of the same species, and he makes this declaration, not in the name of theology, but in the name of science!
Far be it from me to seek to belittle or discredit the true Christian life of any man or woman—the life that conforms, however imperfectly, to the example set by Jesus of Nazareth.
What I urge is, that the natural philosopher is bound to consider such a life as not contingent upon a certain belief, or the acceptance of certain dogmas, or upon any one historical event, but that it has been possible to man in all ages, and is more possible now than it was in the time of Socrates, only by virtue of the force of the teachings, and of the immortal example of the founder of Christianity.
To the impartial observer such a man as Julian the Apostate appears as about the best Christian of his time, although he utterly abjured Christianity, and was a pagan to the last drop of his blood. To be a Christian, in the higher sense, is to live a certain life, not to subscribe to a certain creed; or, in the words of Milton (though Milton would probably have repudiated this application of his words), it is to "dare to think, to speak, and to be that which the highest wisdom has in every age taught to be best."
It may not be amiss for me to supplement or qualify the foregoing pages with a page or two which have a different bearing. In the first place, let me say that I have not so much spoken for myself therein as I have spoken for that attitude of mind which makes science or exact knowledge possible—a state of mind which, in our time, I am aware, is carrying things with a high hand. I know full well that science does not make up the sum-total of life; that there are many things in this world that count for more than exact knowledge. A noble sentiment, an heroic impulse, courage, and self-sacrifice—how all your exact demonstrations pale before these things! But I recognize the fact that within its own sphere science is supreme, and its sphere is commensurate with human reason; and that, when an appeal is made to it, we must abide by the result. Theology assumes to be a science, the science of God, and as such the evidence, the proof upon which it relies, must stand the test of reason, or be capable of verification. Religion, as a sentiment, as an aspiration after the highest
