were supposed to be humoured like cross and sulky people.

Of course men would offer the best of what they had, and would pick the finest fruits and flowers as gifts to the gods, or burn upon a raised pile of stones called an altar the most spotless of their flocks. And because the surrender of the nearest and dearest was often thought necessary to allay the anger, or secure the help, or ward off the vengeance of the god, the lives of dear ones were offered, and this is one of the chief causes of the hideous and horrid rites which curdle one's blood to think about, and of which every land and every age have been the spectators.

The blessed Father of all "is not a God of the dead, but of the living," and a Being who therefore loves not the sacrifice of blood and death. The sacrifice which is sweet to Him is that of hearts which, sorrowful for their sins and for grieving Him by wandering from His fatherly arms, are willing to give up their wrong-doings, and, casting out selfishness, in which so much evil lurks, to do His will on earth

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as it is done in heaven. Men are only now slowly learning this great truth, although many centuries have passed away since it was first taught, because they have found it easier to profess certain beliefs or pay others to perform certain rites for them, than to strive day by day to obey the commandments of God.

XXXIII. Monotheism, or Belief in One God.

Coming much nearer the time when the history of man's religious belief grows clearer, we see that his ideas had become higher and nobler.

It had at first seemed to him as if in heaven above and earth beneath nought but confusion reigned, but as the course of things became more carefully watched, it was seen that order, not disorder; plan, not blind fate, ruled the universe.

The storm which made havoc with the fruit of man's industry swept disease and foul air away; the fire that, uncontrolled, destroyed, was, when controlled, man's useful servant; the night that filled the air with bad spirits, lulled man to

welcome rest; the things which had been looked upon as curses, turned out to be blessings, and much that seemed discord in nature was harmony to him who touched the chords. aright.

Man had at first worshipped that which was strongest, and feared that which seemed likeliest to harm him most; but as he grew in knowledge and wisdom, he came to worship that which was best. This arose from the feeling, which I have just described, that something else than crushing force was over all. We have seen that on man's first entrance into life he found it one continued battle against forces of all kinds, and the only law that ruled was the law of might. He who could get a thing and keep it was entitled to it. Besides ability to defend himself by sheer force or cunning, man possessed the power of injuring and of doing wanton cruelty and mischief for its own sake, and of this power all history shows us he made sad use. Lower in this than the beast which slays to satisfy its hunger, man killed his fellow-man to satisfy his lawless

ambition, and committed ravages which centuries of labour have been unable to repair. But as the human family increased, it became clear that there would soon be an end to everything, did man continue using to the full this power to hurt, and plunder, and kill. Therefore to enable mankind to live together in peace and to progress, it was needful for them to feel that respect was due to the rights of others, and that it was necessary to do to them as they would wish to be done unto. If a man refused to agree to this, and in malice injured another, he was punished for breaking the rules which must be kept to make what is called society possible. But besides the sense of duty towards others, there was another and a deeper sense by which man felt that it was wrong to injure them.

There is something within everyone, when called upon to choose between a better and a worse, which speaks in clear and certain

tones.

If we are tempted to do wrong, yet know to do right, from whence comes the knowledge?

If after each act of kindness, each duty faithfully done, there follows a blessed peace, from whence does it spring? Sun and moon cannot be spoken of as knowing right from wrong, or as helping us to discern the difference. The stars of heaven and the stones of earth know nothing about duties, and are moved or kept still by other laws than the law of love.

God is its source, and none other but He.

"His that gentle voice we hear,

Soft as the breath of even,

That checks each fault, that calms each fear,
And speaks forgiven."

Never, I beseech you, stifle Conscience, for when it speaks you are in the path of danger; only when you are safe is it silent, yet none the less watchful, unsleeping. Never, I beseech you, try to displace that judge who never leaves his seat, but sits moment by moment weighing every thought and act in his balance.

For that which we feel and know to be the highest law within us must, we rightly argue, dwell in perfection in Him whose authority thus makes itself heard by us. And since