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imaginative introjection how akin the debased feeling of haunting, given by this word, is to those primary numinous experiences by which long ago seers had experience of 'aweful', 'holy', numen-possessed places, discovering thereby the starting-points for local cults and the birth-places of the ' El' worshipped there. The echo of such primaeval experiences lingers in Genesis xxviii. 17 (Jacob at Bethel) and Exodus iii (the burning bush). The places here set apart by Moses and Jacob are genuine 'haunted places', at which 'cs spukt', places about, which ' there is something eerie'. Only, the feeling of being haunted has in these cases not the impoverished and debased sense of our modern eerie feeling of being haunted by ghosts and spectres; it comprises all the rich potentialities and possibilities of development inherent in the true primal numinous emotion. Nor can we doubt that even to-day the finer awe that may steal over us in the stillness and half-gloom of our own pi^Hit-day sanctuaries has ultimate kinship not only with that of which Schiller writes in his verses:

Und in Poscidons Fichtenhain Tritt er mit frommem Schauder ein,1

but also with genuine ' ghostly' emotions. The faint shiver that may accompany such states of mind is not unrelated to the feeling of ' creeping flesh', whose numinous character we have already considered (p. 16). In its efforts to derive ' daemon ' and 'god' forcibly from 'souls' and 'spirits', animism is looking the wrong way. It would be, at any rate, on the right path if it maintained that they are haunting apparitions.

This is partially proved by certain ancient, still extant terms, which long ago had reference to the original awe of the haunting spirit (in the good sense), and later grew to become designations both of the lowest and the highest forms of 'awe'. Such a term is the enigmatical word ' a sura' in Sanskrit.

Ps. xxvi. 8 : ' the place where Thine honour dwelleth ' by translating it: ' the places haunted by Thy majesty'. The Sheklnah is properly the hauntinri presence of Yahweh in the Temple at Jerusalem.

1 Schiller, Die Kraniche des Ibyktts (The Cranes of Ibykus): 'And to Poseidon's grove of pine With awe devout he enters in.'

Asura is the ' aweful' or ' dreadful' in the sense in which Jacob used the word, the eerie or uncanny. Later in Indian religion, it is used as the technical expression for the. lower forms of the spectral, ghostly, and daemonic. But at the same time it is from primaeval times a title of the sublimest of all the gods of the Rig-Veda, the weirdly exalted Varuna. And in the Persian expression Ahurti-m/izdn it becomes the name of the one and only eternal godhead itself. The same thing is true of the term 'adhhuta'. You experience an adbliuta when you are 'in an empty house', says an old definition.1 It is the ixpcrience of our ' shuddering'. But, on the other hand, ikVhut« is also the name for the supreme transcendent marvel and its attractive spell, the element of 'fascination', even fur the eternal Brahman himself and his salvation, the A'Ohu'am that passes beyond the reach of speech.3

11 1 .¡ally, it's only uj on our assumption of an a priori basis of ideas and feelings that an explanation is forthcoming for the interesting phenomena to which Andrew Lang 3 rightly drew attention. These do not, of course, support the hypothesis of a ' primitive monotheism ', that offspring of missionary apologetic, which, eager to save the second chapter of Genesis, yet feels the shame of a modern at the walking of Yahweh ' in the garden in the cool of the day '. But they do point to facts which remain downright riddles, if we start from any naturalistic foundation of religion—whether animism, pantheism, or another—and must in that case be got out of the way by the most violent hypotheses. 'Ihe essence of the matter is this,

1 A dhhuta means literally the inapprehensible, inexpressible. But-in the fust instance it is exactly our myitcrium stupindum, whereas 'antra' is the tr meiidiini.

* Adbhitta lar. 1 usenrya) would be an accurate rendering in Sanskrit for our ' numinous', were it not that the word, like the German ' wunderbar' an I the Eihglilh 'awful', has long ago become trite and shallow from tl. • ' profan ' non-religious—uses to which it has been so perpetually ¡nit.

3 Myth, l.itnal, and lleliyion, 1 -09. 77k Making of lldiyion, lOUli. Magic and fteliyioiu 1901. Cf. also I'. W. Schmidt, Gru>\dl.tn,n tintr Vtrgliichting dtr lul.giuntn and Hytholotjiin dtr a-utironcsitchcn HW/.U-, Vienna, 1910.

that elements and strands are to be found in numerous mythologies and the stories of savage tribes, which reach altogether beyond the point they have otherwise attained in religious rites and usages. Notions of ' high gods' are adumbrated, with w hom the savage has often hardly any relations in practice, if any at all, and in whom he yet acknowledges, almost in spite of himself, a value superior to that of all other mythological images, a value which may well accord with the divine in the highest sense.

Sometimes, but by no means always, we can discern that these anticipations of a higher religious experience are the outcome of a past growth of myth. What is characteristic and at the same time so puzzling is the elevation with which they stand out from the surrounding more primitive religious life amid which they are found. Indeed, in cases where missions have introduced the preaching of Christian theism, these apprehended, exalted divinities are readily and frequently identified with God and reinforce the preaching of the missionary. And converts often come to admit that, though they had not honoured God, they had had knowledge of Him. It is, of course, true that this sort of fact can sometimes be explained as due to traditional influences, protracted from an earlier time, when the tribe in question was in contact with a higher theistic religion: the very names given to these higher beings sometimes prove as much. But even in this form the phenomenon is a very singular one. Why should ' savagesset in other respects in an utterly alien milieu of barbaric superstition, accept and, what is more, retain these notions, unless their own savage minds were so predisposed to them that, so far from being able to let them go, they were obliged to take at least an interest in them as a tradition and very frequently to acknowledge their authority by the felt witness of their own consciences'? But, though the theory of a surviving tradition is sometimes applicable, there are many of these cases in which it is impossible to apply it without doing violence to the facts. In these we have clearly to do with anticipations and presentiments rather than survivals. Assuming the continual pressure and operation of an inward reasonable disposition to form certain ideas, these anticipations are not only no matter for surprise; they are as naturally to bo expected as are th« achievements of gipsy musicians, w ho, set otherw ise in a milieu of the most primitive culture, yet respond to the pressure of a strong, innate, musical disposition. Without such an assumption, the facts would remain as an insoluble puzzle.

Naturalistic psychologists, in this as in other cases, ignore, a fact which might be thought at least to have a psjchological interest, and which they could notice in themselves by careful introspection namely, the sdf-nttes'.ation of religious ideas in one's own mind. This is, to be sure, more certain in the case of the naive than in that of the more blast* mind; but many people would identify it in their own consciousness if they would only recall deliberately and impartially their hours of pre]) [ration for the ceremony of ' continuation '. liut what the n.ind ' attests' it can also under favourable circumstances e\ince and elicit from itself in premonitory stirring and felt surmise. The upholders of the theory of ' Primitive Mono-tSlisrn 'J on the other hand, show no less serious disregard of this central fact than the naturalistic psychologists. For if the ; henomena we have been considering were based simply and solely on historical traditions and dim memories of a primeval revelatiun', as on such a theory they must be, this self-attestation from within would be just as much excluded as before.1

1 Mini part wi'h this chapter my recently published book Das Gefuhl dis Vbei'u-tUlithtn, especially Cha[ ter VI: D.u Werden ernes Uottes.

THE 'CRUDER' PHASES

It is not only the more developed forms of religious experience that must be counted underivable and a ■priori. The same holds good throughout and is no less true of the primitive, crude and rudimentary emotions of ' daemonic dread ' which, as we have seen, stand at the threshold of religious evolution. Religion is itself present at its commencement: religion, nothing else, is at work in these early stages of mythic and daemonic experience. Let us consider the circumstances in which alone the primitive and crude character of these consists.

(a) First, it is due to the merely gradual emergence and successive awakening of the several moments of the numinous. The numinous only unfolds its full content by slow degrees, as one by one the series of requisite stimuli or incitements becomes operative. But where any whole is as yet incompletely presented its earlier and partial constituent moments or elements, aroused in isolation, have naturally something bizarre, unintelligible, and even grotesque about them. This is especially true of that religious moment which would appear to have been in every case the first to be aroused in the human mind, viz. daemonic dread. Considered alone and per se, it necessarily and naturally looks more like the opposite of religion than religion itself. If it is singled out from the elements which form its context, it appears rather to resemble a dreadful form of auto-suggestion, a sort of psychological nightmare of the tribal mind, than to have anything to do with religion ; and the supernatural beings with whom men at this early stage profess relations appear as phantoms, projected by a morbid, undeveloped imagination afflicted by a sort of persecution-phobia. One can understand how it is that not a few inquirers could seriously imagine that ' religion ' began with devil-worship, and that at bottom the devil is more ancient than God.

To this serial and gradual awakening of the different aspects and moments of the numinous is also to be ascribed the difficulty of classifying religions by genus and species. Every one who undertakes the task produces a different classification. For the facts to be classified are for the most part not at all related as the distinct species of one and the same genus; they are not alternative, determinate forms into which the whole— ' religion '— may be analysed, but constituent elements, out of w hich it is to be ' synthesized' or built up. It is as though a whale should begin to (.how itself above the water part by part, and as though people should then attempt to classify the arched back, the end of the tail, and the head spouting wafer, 1 v j^enus and species, instead of seeking for such a real understanding of these phenomena as would recognize each of them in its place and proper connexion with the rest as a part and member of one whole body, which must itself have been grasped in its entirety before its parts could be properly apprehended.

(b) In the second place, the ' primitiveness' of the cruder phases is due to the abrupt, capricious, and desultory character w hich marks the earliest form of numinous emotion ; and, in consequence, to its indistinctness, w hich causes it to be merged and confounded with 'natural' feelings.

(c) It is due, next, to tlie fact that the valuation prompted by the moment of numinous consciousness (e.g. the 'daemonic dread ' phase) is attached in the first place, and very naturally, to ol jeets, occurrences, and entities falling w ithin the workaday world of primitive experience, v.hieh prompt or give occasion to the stirring of numinous emotion by analogy and then divert it to themselves. This circumstance is more than anything else the root of what lias been called nature-worship and the deification of natural objects. Only gradually, under pressure from the numinous feeling itself, are such connexions subsequently 'spiritualized' or ultimately altogether rejected, and not till thou does the obscure content of the feeling, w ith its reference to absolute transcendent realit}, come to light in all its integrity and self-subsistence.

(id) A fouitii factor contributing to the crudity of primitive

' religion' is the uncontrolled, enthusiastic form, making for wild fanaticism, in which the numinous feeling storms the savage mind, appearing as religious mania, possession by the nuinen, intoxication, and frenzy.

(e) Again, a quite essential factor is the wrong sehematiza-tions it undergoes, when interpreted in terms of some experience analogous, perhaps, but not really appertaining to it. Examples of this have already been given (e.g. p. J»7).

(/) Finally, and most important, there is the deficient rationalization and moralization of the experience, for it is only gradually that the numinous feeling becomes charged with progressively rational, moral, and cultural significance.

These considerations account for the primitive and savage character of the numinous consciousness at its outset. But it must be repeated that in its content even the first stirring of ' daemonic dread ' is a purely a priori element. In this respect it may be compared from first to last with the aesthetic judgement and the category of the beautiful. Utterly different as my mental experiences are when I recognize an object as ' beautiful' or as ' horribleyet both cases agree in this, that I ascribe to the object an attribute that professes to interpret it, which I do not and cannot get from sense-experience, but which I rather ascribe to it by a spontaneous judgement of my own. Intuitively I apprehend in the object only its sensuous qualities and its spatial form, nothing more. That the meaning I call ' beautiful' fits the object, i. e. that these sense-data mean ' beautiful', or even that there is any such meaning at all—these are facts which sensory elements can in no wise supply or tell me. I must have an obscure conception of ' the beautiful itself', and, in addition, a principle of subsumption, by which I attribute it to the object, else even the simplest experience of a beautiful thing is rendered impossible. And this analogy may be pursued further. Joy in the beautiful, however analogous to mere pleasure in the agreeable, is yet distinguishable from it by a plain difference in quality, and cannot be derived from anything other than itself; and just such is the relation of the specific religious awe to mere natural fear.

The ' crude' stage is transcended as the numen reveals itnelf ' (i. e. becomes manifest to mind and feeling) ever more strongly and fully. An essential factor in this is the process by which it i1- tilled out and charged with rational elements, whereby it passes at the same time into the region of the conceivable and comprehensible. Yet all the time all the elements of non-rational ' inconceivability' are retained on the side of the numinous and intensified as the revelation proceeds. ' Revelation ' does not mean a mere passing over into the intelligible and comprehensible. Something may be profoundly and intimately known in feeling for the bliss it brings or the agitation it produces, and yet the understanding may find no concept, for it. To kn<nv and to understand concejrfuuUy are two different things, are often even mutually exclusive and contrasted, 'ihe my-terious obscurity of the numen is by no means tantamount to unknow ableness. Assuredly the ' deus abscoiulitus et incomprehensibilis' was for Luther no ' deas i'jiwtvs '. And so, too, St. Paul ' knows ' the Peace which yet ' passeth understanding

CHAPTER XVII TIIE HOLY AS AX A PRIORI CATEGORY Part II

We conclude, then, that not only the rational but also the non-rational elements of the complex category of ' holiness 1 are a priori elements and each in the same degree. Religion is not in vassalage either to morality or teleology, ' ethos' or 'telos', and does not draw its life from postulates; and its non-rational content has, no less than its rational, its own independent roots in the hidden depths of the spirit itself.

But the same a priori character belongs, in the third place, to the connexion of the rational and the non-rational elements in religion, their inward anil necessary union. The histories of religion recount indeed, as though it were something axiomatic, the gradual interpretation of the two, the process by which ' the divine' is charged and tilled out with ethical meaning. And this process is, in fact, felt as something axiomatic, something whose inner necessity we feel to be self-evident. But then this inward self-evidence is a problem in itself; we are forced to assume an obscure, a priori knowledge of the necessity of this synthesis, combining rational and non-rational. For it is not by any means a logical necessity. How should it be logically inferred from the still ' crudehalf-daemonic character of a moon-god or a sun-god or a numen attached to some locality, that he is a guardian and guarantor of the oath and of honourable dealing, of hospitality, of the sanctity of marriage, and of duties to tribe and clan? IIow should it be inferred that he is a god who decrees happiness and misery, participates in the concerns of the tribe, provides for its well-being, and directs the course of destiny and history ? Whence conies this most surprising of all the facts in the history of religion, that beings, obviously born originally of horror and terror, become ¡¡¡»It.- beings to whom men pray, to whom they contide the;r sorrow or their haf piness, in whom they behold the origin and the sanction of morality . law. and the whole canon of justice 1 And how does all thi come about in such a way that, when once such ideas have been aroused, it is understood at once as the plainest and most evident of axioms, that so it must be ?

Socrates, in Plato's Hepul'lic, ii. 382 E, says: 'God then is single and true in deed and word, and neither changes himself nor deceives others . . .' And Adeimantos answers him : ' So too is it aj parent to me, now that you say it.' The most interesting point in this passage is not the elevation and purity of the conception of God, nor yet the lofty rationalization and moralii tion of it here enunciated, but, on the side of Socrates, the S] parently ' dogmatic ' tone of his pronouncement for ho do<> not spend the least pains in demonstrating it—and, on the side of Adeimantos, the ingenuous surprise and, at the same time, the confident assurance with which he admits a truth novel to him. And l i assent is such ius implies con\ incement; he does not simply believe Socrates; he sees clearly for himself the truth of his words. Now this is the criterion of all a priori knowledge, namely, that, so soon as an assertion has been clearly expressed and understood, knowledge of its truth comes into the mind with the certitude of first-hand insight. And what j assed here between Socrates and Adeimantos has been repeated a thousand times in the history of religions. Amos, also, says something new when he proclaims Yahweli as the Cod of inflexible, universal, and absolute righteousness, and yet this is a noNelty that lie nei'her proves nor justifies by an appeal to authorities, lie appeals to a ]>riori judgements, \iz. to the religious conscience itself, and this in truth bears witness to his message.

Luther, again, recognizes and maintains such an a priori knowledge of the divine nature. His rage against the ' whore Reason li-ads him, to be sure, usually to utterances in the opposite sense, such as the following:

' It is a knowledge a posteriori in that we look at God from without, at His works and His government, as one looketh at a castle or house from without and thereby feeleth (spiiret) the lord or householder thereof. But a priori from within hath no wisdom of men yet availed to discover what and of what manner of being is God as He is in Himself or in His inmost essence, nor can any man know nor say aught thereof, but they to whom it has been revealed by the Holy Ghost.'

Here Luther overlooks the fact that a man must ' feel' or detect the 'householder' a priori or not at all. But in other passages he himself allows the general human reason to possess many true cognitions of what 'God is in Himself or in His inmost essence '. Compare the following :

' Atque ipsamet ratio naturalis cogitur earn concedere proprio suo iutlicio convicta, etiamsi nulla esset scriptura. Omnes enim homines inveniunt banc sententiam in cordibus suis scriptam et agnoscunt earn ac probatam, licet inviti, cum audiant earn tractari : primo. Deum esse oinnipotentem . . . deinde, ipsum omnia nosse et praescire, neque errarc neque falli posse . . . Istis duobus corde et sensu concessis ..."1

The interesting words of this statement are: proprio suo iudicio convicta, for they make the distinction between cognitions and mere ' innate ideas' or supernaturally instilled notions, both of which latter may produce ' thoughts', but not convictions ' ex proprio iudicio'. Note also the words: 'cum audiant earn tractari', which exactly correspond to the experience of Plato's Adeimantos, already quoted.2

1 Luther, Weimar ed., xviii. 719: 'And the natural reason itself is forced, even were there no holy scripture, to grant it (sc. this assertion), convinced by its otrn judgement. For all men, as soon as they hear it treated of, find this belief written in their hearts, and acknowledge it as proved, even unwillingly : first, that God is omnipotent, . . . then, that He has knowledge and foreknowledge of all things and can neither err nor be deceived . . . Since these two things are admitted by heart and feeling . .

2 The most interesting features in Luther in this connexion, however, are the passages upon ' Faith ', in which Faith is described a3 a unique cognitive faculty for the apprehension of divine truth, and as such is contrasted with the ' natural' capacities of the Understanding, as elsewhere the ' Spirit' is contrasted. 'Faith' is here l.ke the ' Synteresis ' in the theory of knowledge of the mystics, the 'inward teacher' (magister in-ternus) of Augustine, and the 'inward light' of the Quakers, which are all of theru of course ' above reason ', but yet an a priori element in ourselves.

It is the same experience which missionaries have so often undergone. Once enunciated and understood, the ideas of the unity and goodness of the divine nature often take a surprisingly short time to become iirmly lixed in the hearer's mind, if he show any susceptibility for religious feeling. Frequently, thereupon, the h arer adapts the religious tradition that has hitherto been his to the new meaning he has learned. Or,

A particulaily striking passage is the following from Luther's Txble-Talk (Wei. v. 5S20) :

'Omnium hominum mentilius iinpressa est divinitus notitia Dei. Quod sit Dens, omnes homines sine ullaartium et disciplinarum cognitione sola natura duee seiunt.et omnium hominum mentibus hoc divinitus impressum est. Nulla umcjuam fuit tam fera gens et immanis, quae non crediderit, esse d wnitu'. m quandam, quae omnia creavit. Itaque I'aulus inquit: Invisibilia Dei a i reatura mundi per ea, quae facta sunt, intellecta con-spieiuntur, srmpit>>rna cius virtus et divinitas. Quare omnes ethniei bciveuint esse Denm, quantumvis fu runt Kpicurei, quan^umvis contender int, non ess« D'-nm. Non in eo, quod negant esse Deuin, simul confcssi sunt esse D um ? Nemo enim negare id potest, quod nescit. CJ'i.iri', etsi quidam per omnern vitam in maximis versati sunt flagitiis et sceleriiius et non alitor omnino vixerunt, an si uuIIub esset Deus, tamen nunquam consent:.tin animis potuerunt eicere testantem et aflir-mantem, quod sit Deus, Et quamvis ilia conscientia pravis et perversis opinionibus ad tempus oppressa fuit, redit tamen et convincit eos 111 extri'inae vitae spiritu.'

'The knowledge of God is impressed upon the mind of every man by (rod. Under the sole guidance of nature all men know that God ¡b— without any acquaintaricl with the arts or sci nces ; and this is divinely imprinted upon all men's minds. There has never been a people so wild and savage th>it it did not b iieve that there is some divine power that created all things. And thus it is that Paul says: "the invisible things of God from the creation of the world are clearly ««en, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead." Wherefore all the Gentiles knew that there, is a God, however much they were Epicureans, however much they maintained that there is no God. Did they not confess God's being in that very denial ot lLm? I'or no one can deny that of which he has no knowledge. Wherefore, although men have all their E»es long been occupied in the greatest sin» ar.d crimes and have lived just as though there were no God, yet tiny have never been able to cast forth from their minds the conscience that testifies an 1 atlirms th it God is. And although that, conscience ha< been overborne for a time by eiil and perverse opinions, yet it comes back to convict them in their life's final breath.'

where resistance is offered to the new teaching, it is yet often noticeably in the face of pressure the other way from the man's own conscience. Such experiences have been made known to me by missionaries among the Tibetans and among African negroes, and it would be interesting to make a collection of them, both in regard to the general question of the a priori factors in religion, and especially as throwing light upon the a priori knowledge of the essential interdependence of the rational and the non-rational elements in the idea of God. For this the history of religion is itself an almost unanimous witness. Incomplete and defective as the process of moralizing the ' numina' may often have been throughout the wide regions of primitive religious life, everywhere there are traces of it to be found. And wherever religion, escaping from its first crudity of manifestation, has risen to a higher type, this process of synthesis has in all cases set in and continued more and more positively. And this is all the more remarkable when one considers at what widely dimp?nt dates the imaginative creation of the figures of gods had its rise in

different cases, and under what diverse conditions of race, natural endowment, and social and political structure its evolution proceeded. All this points to the existence of a priori factors universally and necessarily latent in the human spirit: those, in fact, which we can find directly in our own religious consciousness, when we, too, like Adeimantos, naively and spontaneously concur with Socrates' saying, as with an axiom whose truth we have seen for ourselves : ' God is single, and true in deed and word.'

As the rational elements, following a priori principles, come together in the historical evolution of religions with the nono o rational, they serve to ' schematize' these. This is true, not only in general of the relation of the rational aspect of ' the holy', taken as a whole, to its non-rational, taken as a whole, but also j n detail of the several constituent elements of the two aspects. The tremendum, the daunting and repelling moment of the numinous, is schematized by means of the rational ideas of justice, moral will, and the exclusion of what is opposed to morality ; and schematized thus, it becomes the holy ' Wrath of God which Scripture and Christian preaching alike proclaim. The fasciuans, the attracting and alluring moment of the numinous, is schematized by means of the ideas of goodness, mercy, love, and, so schematized, becomes all that we mean by Grace, that term so rich in import, which unites v ith the holy \\ rath in a single' harmony of contrasts', and like it is, from the numinous strain in it. tinged with Mysticism. The moment mysteriosum is schematized by the absoluteness of all rational attributes applied to the Deity. Probably the correspondence here implied—between 'the mysterious' and the absoluteness of all rational attributes—will not appear at first sight so immediately evident as in the two foregoing cases, Wrath and Grace. None the less it is a very exact correspondence. God's rational attributes can be distinguished from like attributes applied to the created spirit by being not relative, as those are, but absolute. Human love is relative, admit'iiig of degrees, and it is the same with human knowledge and human goodness. God's love and knowledge and goodness, on the other hand, and all else that can be asserted of Him in conceptual terms, are formally absolute. The content of the attributes is the same; it is an element of form which marks them apart as attributes of God. Put such an element of form is also the 'mysterious' as such: it is, as we saw on p. 31, the formal aspect of the 'wholly other'. Put to this plain correspondence of the two things, ' the mysterious ' anil the absoluteness of rational attributes, a further one must be added. Our understanding can only compass the relative. That which is in contrast absolute, though it may in a sense be tlought, cannot be thought home, thought out; it is within the reach of our conceiving, but it is beyond the grasp of our comprehension. Now, though this does not make what is 'absolute' itself genuinely 'mysterious', as this term was expounded on p. 28, it does make it a genuine schema of 'the mysterious '. 1 he absolute exceeds our power to comprehend ; the mysterious wholly eludes it. The absolute is that which surpasses the limits of our understanding, not through its actual qualitative character, for that is familiar to us, but through its formal character. The mysterious, on the other l hand, is that which lies altogether outside what can be thought, and is, alike in form, quality, and essence, the utterly and ' wholly other '. We see, then, that in the case of the moment of ' mystery ', as well as those of ' awefulness ' and ' fascination there is an exact correspondence between the nonrational element and its rational schema, and one that admits of development.

By the continual living activity of its non-rational elements a religion is guarded from passing into ' rationalism By being steeped in and saturated with rational elements it is guarded from sinking into fanaticism or mere mysticality, or at least from persisting in these, and is qualified to become a religion for all civilized humanity. The degree in which both rational and non-rational elements are jointly present, united in healthy and lovely harmony, affords a criterion to measure the relative rank of religions—and one, too, that is specifically religious. Applying this criterion, we find that Christianity, in this as in other respects, stands out m complete superiority over all its sister religions. The lucid edifice of its clear and pure conceptions, feelings, and experiences is built up on a foundation that goes far deeper than the rational. Yet the non-rational is only the basis, the setting, the woof in the fabric, ever preserving for Christianity its mystical depth, giving religion thereby the deep undertones and heavy shadows of Mysticism, without letting it develop into a mere rank growth of mysticality. And thus Christianity, in the healthily proportioned union of its elements, assumes an absolutely classical form and dignity, which is only the more vividly attested in consciousness as we proceed honestly and without prejudice to set it in its place in the comparative study of religions. Then we shall recognize that in Christianity an element of man's spiritual life, which yet has its analogies in other fields, has for the first time come to maturity in a supreme and unparalleled way.

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