nature; and the displays of power which we behold are, for practical effect, tantamount to the infinite, our own derived and dependent power appearing in comparison as a drop drawn from a boundless ocean.

In connexion with the omnipotence of God the question has been raised whether he can work miracles. The subject of miracles would require a long discussion to determine their relation to Christian theology, and here a very few words must suffice. That God has both the power and the freedom to work miracles, if he sees fit to do so, and is not a blind force dragged along by an irresistible destiny, no theist can deny; and the only problem is whether, as a matter of fact, there is evidence that the miraculous does really come within the modes of his operation, or whether, within the limited range of our experience, he has always proceeded by the same steadfast methods. Presented in this way, the inquiry, though involving most important and fundamental issues, is historical rather than theological.

The idea of omnipotence has been extended so as to include the ability to do any conceivable thing; and this view has been founded on the words of Christ, With God all things are possible.' But utterances of this kind are not meant to express a universal dogma, and must be limited by the context. The statement in question refers only to the solution of a moral difficulty which is beyond the unaided power of man. Christ says with the same absoluteness that, if men have faith as a grain of mustard seed, nothing shall be impossible to them2; but no one supposes that this statement is without rational limitations. It is not, therefore, inconsistent with Christ's doctrine if theologians, following Origen and Augustine, have maintained that there are certain things which God cannot do. He cannot die; he cannot lose his perfection; he cannot sin; he cannot make that which has happened not have happened; he cannot act in contradiction with himself.3 Such statements, 3 See Nitzsch, p. 389.

1 Matt. xix. 26.

2 Matt. xvi. 20.

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however, do not indicate the presence of anything which, by its own superior force, can thwart his will, and therefore do not seem properly opposed to the most absolute doctrine of his omnipotence.

Another curious question is discussed in this connexion. John of Damascus taught that God has power to do whatever he wills, but he does not will whatever he has power to do, for he has power to destroy the world, but he does not will it.1 In opposition to this Abélard maintained that God can do nothing but what he does. In modern times Schleiermacher adopted this view, holding it to be inconsistent with the perfection of God to make any separation between can and will.2 Nitzsch also supports it, on the ground that whatever is really possible, being good, must be realized, and could not be withheld, by the will of God, which is good; and so he maintains that God could not destroy the world, owing to the holy love which belongs. to his essence.3 It seems to me that the latter argument is founded on an ambiguous use of the word 'can.' No. doubt God cannot act in opposition to his own holy nature; but if on this account he will not destroy the world, it does not follow that he does not possess the force which is adequate to destroy it, if it were otherwise directed. Moreover experience hardly justifies these a priori conclusions. Constant change is going on around us, and new things continually appear; have these suddenly become good, and would they have been bad if they had appeared a year or two sooner ? And can we seriously think that an animal or a plant, and especially each individual animal or plant, would have been bad if it had been slightly different from what it is? Surely the universe suggests to us a vast range of possibilities within the good, which as a fact are not all realized. These, however, are speculative questions, which

1 Πάντα μὲν ὅσα θέλει δύναται, οὐχ ὅσα δὲ δύναται θέλει. Quoted by Schleiermacher, Der christliche Glaube, I, p. 284, note.

2 Der chr. Glaube, § 54.

3 Lehrb. d. e. Dogm. pp. 390 sq.

have little practical bearing. For our religious requirements it is enough that we can have a moral trust that the amazing power displayed throughout the universe is under the guidance of perfect goodness, and that in all our weakness and need we can look to a strength which is sufficient for the fulfilment of the purposes of Divine love.

We must pass now to certain conceptions which are more immediately connected with the religious nature of man, and have to contemplate God as the reality of ideal good. We are thus introduced to certain moral predicates, and to those spiritual relations which make God an object of worship.

First, we must treat of the holiness of God. This is referred to so frequently in the Bible that it is unnecessary to cite particular passages, especially as it is recognized by every school of theologians as inherent in the Divine nature. But when we inquire into the precise meaning which was originally attached to the term, we raise a question which must be settled by Biblical theology, and which it is not necessary to discuss at present. I may say, however, for myself, that I think it always contains a moral implication. Even if the fundamental idea be that of separation from and elevation above the world, still this does not express mere power or duration or magnitude, but a remoteness from all that is impure and sinful, combined with a righteous and authoritative will which requires something in man answering to itself. The commandment, 'Be ye holy, for I am holy,' cannot enjoin any metaphysical distinction. from the world, but only some sort of moral purification. Be this as it may, the idea of the holiness of God which belongs to Christian theology is that of supreme moral perfection, including such exaltation above all that is transient and earthly as to awaken our awe, and bow us down in veneration and worship. Holiness in a man has an analogous effect, and seems to bring us into the presence of something more divine than our ordinary life. And yet holiness in man has characteristics which we cannot ascribe

to God. Especially it implies conformity to a rule, which, though it may enter into his consciousness, is extraneous and superior to himself. This has led to the conception of an abstract and eternal law to which all spiritual beings must submit, and which is binding on God himself; and language is sometimes used which seems to imply that there is a principle of moral good which is above God, and exacts from him, as from us, a voluntary obedience. Hence arose the question whether the good is good because God wills it, or God wills it because it is good. The one member of the alternative seems to make the good something arbitrary, and intrinsically capable of being reversed; and the second appears to dethrone God, and make him subject to something higher than himself. The best answer to this perplexity is to say that the good belongs to the eternal essence of God, so that in willing the good he does not submit to any extraneous principle, but expresses his own immutable being. In speaking, therefore, of the holiness of God we regard him, not as virtuous through obedience to the moral law, but as the absolute reality of moral perfection, the eternal centre of unacquired purity and exaltation.

When we pass on to the righteousness of God, we regard his holiness as entering into active relations with morally constituted beings, who are capable of ethical good and ill. This righteousness has been described by dogmatists as exercising two principal functions, legislative and judicial ;1 and the latter, again, as manifesting itself in the two directions of reward and punishment.2 That the moral law is an expression of the Divine will, and that God administers that law through a system of rewards and punishments, is a doctrine both of the Old and of the New Testament. God is not mocked, for whatsoever a man sows, that shall he also reap';3 God will render to every man according to his works; these statements express a pervasive and funda1 Justitia legislatoria, and judicialis.

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2 Remuneratoria and punitiva.

mental thought both of Judaism and of Christianity, and their truth is recognized by the natural conscience, which attests the immediate presence of a Divine authority, and, under the sense of sin, has premonitions of a judgment to come. But when we ask, what is the rule of justice by which rewards and punishments are distributed, the answer is by no means easy; and since on our answer important doctrinal issues depend, we must proceed carefully in seeking a solution. Punishment has been divided into retributive and educational. Retributive punishment is that whereby expiation is made for the violation of the moral law, and accordingly it is inflicted in a measure corresponding to the measure of guilt. As, however, there is no absolute standard by which guilt and punishment can be measured in relation to one another, justice consists in the maintenance of the same standard in all cases. Educational punishment aims at securing a certain result in the character, and its measure is determined by the realization of this aim.1 From this mode of regarding the subject it necessarily follows that God cannot forgive, in the sense of remitting any portion of the punishment which retributive justice has assigned to a particular measure of guilt; for to do so would be to act unjustly. It is strange to find this view put forward with the utmost explicitness by Miss Cobbe. Justice,' she says, 'demands that no infraction of the moral law shall pass unexpiated by a corresponding amount of suffering'; and again, Justice requires that towards the guilty he who holds its "balance and rod" shall withhold happiness and inflict punishment in exact proportion to the guilt.'2

1 So Kaftan, Dogmatik, pp. 333 and 337. Kaftan might escape from the criticism which I venture to pass upon this view, because, if I understand him correctly, he regards punishment simply as spiritual deadening, and this is of course proportioned to the sin. But then sin is itself spiritual deadening, so that the latter cannot properly be regarded as the punishment of the former. Punishment always includes the idea of suffering on account of some previous offence, and it is only the suffering which follows spiritual deadness that can be viewed as punishment.

2 Intuitive Morals, p. 57.