Commentary on Romans; Systematic Theology

According to the common doctrine of Protestants, i.e., of Lutherans and Reformed, as appears from the above quotations —

1. Regeneration is an act of God. It is not simply referred to Him as its giver, and, in that sense, its author, as He is the giver of faith and of repentance. It is not an act which, by argument and persuasion, or by moral power, He induces the sinner to perform. But it is an act of which He is the agent. It is God who regenerates. The soul is regenerated. In this sense the soul is passive in regeneration, which (subjectively considered) is a change wrought in us, and not an act performed by us.

2. Regeneration is not only an act of God, but also an act of his almighty power. Agreeably to the express declarations of the Scriptures, it is so presented in the Symbols of the Protestant churches. If an act of omnipotence, it is certainly efficacious, for nothing can resist almighty power. The Lutherans indeed deny this. But the more orthodox of them mean simply that the sinner can keep himself aloof from the means through which, or, rather, in connection with which it pleases God to exercise his power. He can absent himself from the preaching of the Word, and the use of the sacraments. Or he may voluntarily place himself in such an inward posture of resistance as determines God not to exert his power in his regeneration. The assertion that regeneration is an act of God's omnipotence, is, and is intended to be, a denial that it is an act of moral suasion. It is an affirmation that it is "physical" in the old sense of that word, as opposed to moral; and that it is immediate, as opposed to mediate, or through or by the truth. When either in Scripture or in theological writings, the word regeneration is taken in a wide sense as including conversion or the voluntary turning of the soul to God, then indeed it is said to be by the Word. The restoration of sight to the blind by the command of Christ, was an act of omnipotence. It was immediate. Nothing in the way of instrumentary or secondary coöperating influence intervened between the divine volition and the effect. But all exercises of the restored faculty were through and by the light. And without light sight is impossible. Raising Lazarus from the dead was an act of omnipotence. Nothing intervened between the volition and the effect. The act of quickening was the act of God. In that matter Lazarus was passive. But in all the acts of the restored vitality, he was active and free. According to the evangelical system it is in this sense that regeneration is the act of God's almighty power. Nothing intervenes between his volition that the soul, spiritually dead, should live, and the desired effect. But in all that belongs to the consciousness; all that precedes or follows the imparting of this new life, the soul is active and is influenced by the truth acting according to the laws of our mental constitution.

3. Regeneration, subjectively considered, or viewed as an effect or change wrought in the soul, is not an act. It is not a new purpose created by God (if that language be intelligible), or formed by the sinner under his influence. Nor is it any conscious exercise of any kind. It is something which lies lower than consciousness.

4. It is not, however, according to the Church doctrine, any change in the substance of the soul. This is rejected universally as Manicheism, and as inconsistent with the nature of sin and holiness. It is, indeed, often assumed that there is nothing in the soul but its substance and its acts; and, therefore, if regeneration be not a change in the acts, it must be a change of the substance of the soul. This assumption, however, is not only arbitrary, but it is also opposed to the intimate convictions of all men. That is, of all men in their normal state, when not speculating or theorizing. That such is the common judgment of men has already been proved under the heads of original righteousness and original sin. Every one recognizes, in the first place, that such constitutional principles as parental love, the social affections, a sense of justice, pity, etc., are immanent states of the soul which can be resolved neither into its essence nor acts. So also acquired habits are similar permanent and immanent states which are not acts, much less modifications or changes of the essence. The same is true of dispositions, amiable and unamiable. The refinement of taste and feeling due to education and culture, is not a change in the essence of the mind. It cannot reasonably be denied that a state of mind produced by culture, may be produced by the volition of God. What is true in every other department of our inner life, is true of our moral and religious nature. Besides those acts and states which reveal themselves in the consciousness, there are abiding states, dispositions, principles, or habits, as they are indifferently called, which constitute character and give it stability, and are the proximate determining cause why our voluntary exercises and conscious states are what they are. This is what the Bible calls the heart, which has the same relation to all our acts that the nature of a tree, as good or bad, has to the character of its fruit. A good tree is known to be good if its fruit be good. But the goodness of the fruit does not constitute or determine the goodness of the tree, but the reverse. In like manner, it is not good acts which make the man good; the goodness of the man determines the character of his acts.

5. While denying that regeneration is a change either in the essence or acts of the soul, evangelical Christians declare it to be, in the language of Scripture, "a quickening," a zoopoiein, a communication of a new principle of life. It is hard, perhaps impossible, to define what life is. Yet every man is familiar with its manifestations. He sees and knows the difference between death and life, between a dead and living plant or animal. And, therefore, when the Bible tells us that in regeneration God imparts a new form of life to the soul, the language is as intelligible as human language can be in relation to such a subject. We know that when a man is dead as to the body he neither sees, feels, nor acts. The objects adapted to impress the senses of the living make no impression upon him. They awaken no corresponding feeling, and they call forth no activity. The dead are insensible and powerless. When the Scriptures declare that men are spiritually dead they do not deny to them physical, intellectual, social, or moral life. They admit that the objects of sense, the truths of reason, our social relations and moral obligations, are more or less adequately apprehended; these do not fail to awaken feeling and to excite to action. But there is a higher class of objects than these, what the Bible calls "The things of God, "The things of the Spirit," "The things pertaining to salvation." These things, although intellectually apprehended as presented to our cognitive faculties, are not spiritually discerned by the unrenewed man. A beautiful object in nature or art may be duly apprehended as an object of vision by an uncultivated man, who has no perception of its æsthetic excellence, and no corresponding feeling of delight in its contemplation. So it is with the unrenewed man. He may have an intellectual knowledge of the facts and doctrines of the Bible, but no spiritual discernment of their excellence, and no delight in them. The same Christ, as portrayed in the Scriptures, is to one man without form or comeliness that we should desire Him; to another He is the chief among ten thousand and the one altogether lovely; "God manifest in the flesh," whom it is impossible not to adore, love, and obey.

This new life, therefore, manifests itself in new views of God, of Christ, of sin, of holiness, of the world, of the gospel, and of the life to come; in short, of all those truths which God has revealed as necessary to salvation. This spiritual illumination is so important and so necessary and such an immediate effect of regeneration, that spiritual knowledge is not only represented in the Bible as the end of regeneration (Col. iii. 10; 1 Tim. ii. 4), but the whole of conversion (which is the effect of regeneration) is summed up in knowledge. Paul describes his conversion as consisting in Christ's being revealed to Him (Gal. i. 16); and the Scriptures make all religion, and even eternal life, to be a form of knowledge. Paul renounced everything for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ (Phil. iii. 8), and our Lord says that the knowledge of Himself and of the Father is eternal life. (John xvii. 8). The whole process of salvation is described as a translation from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light. There is no wonder, therefore, that the ancients called regeneration a photismos, an illumination. If a man born blind were suddenly restored to sight, such a flood of knowledge and delight would flow in upon him, through the organ of vision, that he might well think that all living consisted in seeing. So the New Testament writers represent the change consequent on regeneration, the opening the eyes on the certainty, glory, and excellence of divine things, and especially of the revelation of God in the person of his Son, as comprehending almost everything which pertains to spiritual life. Inseparably connected with this knowledge and included in it, is faith, in all the forms and exercises in which spiritual truths are its objects. Delight in the things thus revealed is the necessary consequence of spiritual illumination; and with delight come satisfaction and peace, elevation above the world, or spiritual mindedness, and such a sense of the importance of the things not seen and eternal, that all the energies of the renewed soul are (or, it is acknowledged, they should be) devoted to securing them for ourselves and others.

This is one of the forms in which the Bible sets forth the doctrine of regeneration. It is raising the soul dead in sin to spiritual life. And this spiritual life unfolds or manifests itself just as any other form of life, in all the exercises appropriate to its nature.

The same doctrine on this subject is taught in other words when regeneration is declared to be a new birth. At birth the child enters upon a new state of existence. Birth is not its own act. It is born. It comes from a state of darkness, in which the objects adapted to its nature cannot act on it or awaken its activities. As soon as it comes into the world all its faculties are awakened; it sees, feels, and hears, and gradually unfolds all its faculties as a rational and moral, as well as physical being. The Scriptures teach that it is thus in regeneration. The soul enters upon a new state. It is introduced into a new world. A whole class of objects before unknown or unappreciated are revealed to it, and exercise upon it their appropriate influence. The "things of the Spirit" become the chief objects of desire and pursuit, and all the energies of the new-born soul are directed towards the spiritual, as distinguished from the seen and temporal. This representation is in accordance with the evangelical doctrine on this subject. It is not consistent with any of the false theories of regeneration, which regard regeneration as the sinner's own act; as a mere change of purpose; or as a gradual process of moral culture.

Another mode in which this doctrine is set forth is found in those passages in which God is represented as giving his people a new heart. The heart in Scripture is that which thinks, feels, wills, and acts. It is the soul; the self. A new heart is, therefore, a new self, a new man. It implies a change of the whole character. It is a new nature. Out of the heart proceed all conscious, voluntary, moral exercises. A change of heart, therefore, is a change which precedes these exercises and determines their character. A new heart is to a man what goodness is to the tree in the parable of our Lord.

In regeneration, therefore, there is a new life communicated to the soul; the man is the subject of a new birth; he receives a new nature or new heart, and becomes a new creature. As the change is neither in the substance nor in the mere exercises of the soul, it is in those immanent dispositions, principles, tastes, or habits which underlie all conscious exercises, and determine tht character of the man and of all his acts.

The whole Soul the Subject of this change.

6. According to the evangelical doctrine the whole soul is the subject of regeneration. It is neither the intellect to the exclusion of the feelings, nor the feelings to the exclusion of the intellect; nor is it the will alone, either in its wider or in its more limited sense, that is the subject of the change in question. This is evident, —

(1.) Because the soul is a unit, and is so recognized in Scripture. Its faculties are not so dissociated that one can be good and another bad, one saved and another lost, one active in the sphere of morals and religion and the others inactive. In every such exercise the intelligence, the feelings, the will, and the conscience, or moral consciousness, are of necessity involved.

(2.) In the description of this work all the faculties of the soul are represented as affected. The mind is illuminated, the eyes of the understanding are opened; the heart is renewed; the will is conquered, or, the man is made willing.

(3.) When Lazarus was restored to life, it was not one member of the body, or one faculty that received the vivifying influence. It was not the heart that was set in motion, the brain and lungs being restored by its action. It was the whole man that was made alive. And it is the whole soul that is regenerated.

(4.) This is further evident from the effects ascribed to regeneration. These effects are not confined to any one department of our nature. Regeneration secures right knowledge as well as right feeling; and right feeling is not the effect of right knowledge, nor is right knowledge the effect of right feeling. The two are the inseparable effects of a work which affects the whole soul.

(5.) When our Lord teaches that the tree must be made good in order that the fruit should be good, it was not any one part of the tree which must be changed, but the whole tree. In like manner it is the soul, in the centre and unity of its life, that is the subject of that life-giving power of the Holy Ghost, by which it becomes a new creature. The doctrine that regeneration is a change affecting only one of the faculties of the soul has its foundation entirely outside of the Scriptures. It is simply an inference from a particular psychological theory, and has no authority in theology.

§ 4. Objection.

The same objections which are urged against other doctrines of grace are pressed against the Augustinian view of the nature of regeneration. These objections are of three classes.

1. The first class of objections are founded on the denial of Theism; or at least on the denial of the Scriptural doctrine of the relation of God to the world. It is an assumption common to most of the forms of modern philosophy that the only agency of the Supreme Being (whether personal or impersonal) is according to law. It is ordered, uniform, and in, with, and through second causes, if such causes are admitted. Everything is natural, and nothing supernatural, either in the outward world or in the sphere of things spiritual. There can be no creation "ex nihilo," no miracles, no immediate revelation, no inspiration in the church sense of that term; no supernatural work upon the heart, and therefore no regeneration in the sense of an immediate operation of almighty power on the soul. Those who depart from their principles so far as to admit the person of Christ to be supernatural in its origin contend that the supernatural in Him becomes natural, and that from Him onward the diffusion of spiritual life is by a regular process of development, as simply natural as the development of humanity from Adam through all his posterity.

This is purely a philosophical theory. It has no authority for Christians. As it is contrary to the express teaching of the Scriptures it cannot be adopted by those who recognize them as the infallible rule of faith and practice. As it contradicts the moral and religious convictions arising from the constitution of our nature, it must be hurtful in all its tendencies, and can be adopted by those only who sacrifice to speculation their interior life.

2. A second class of objections are founded on certain psychological theories on free agency, on the nature of the soul, and on the conditions of moral obligation. No theories on these, or any other subjects, have any authority, except those which underlie and are necessarily assumed in the facts and doctrines of the Scripture. If any theory teaches that plenary ability is essential to free agency; that God cannot control with certainty the acts of free agents without destroying their liberty; or that free acts cannot be foreseen, predicted, or foreordained, then such theory must be false if the Scriptures assert facts which imply the contrary. If a theory teaches that men are responsible only for acts of the will, under their own control, that theory must be rejected if the Bible teaches that we are responsible for states of mind over which the will has no direct power. The facts involved in the evangelical doctrine of regeneration, as stated above, contradict the theories on which the arguments of the Remonstrants, Pelagians, and others against that doctrine rest, and therefore those theories must share the fate of every doctrine which contradicts established facts. This has been demonstrated over and over in different ages of the Church. The principles involved in these objections have been discussed in the preceding pages, and need not be again considered.

Objections founded on the Divine Perfection.

3. A third class of objections are drawn from the supposed inconsistency of this doctrine with the moral perfections of God. If all men are dead in sin, destitute of the power to restore themselves to life, then not only is it unjust that they should be condemned, but it is also incompatible with the divine rectitude that God should exert his almighty power in the regeneration of some, while He leaves others to perish. Justice, it is said, demands that all should have an equal opportunity; that all should have, by nature or from grace, power to secure their own salvation. It is obvious that such objections do not bear peculiarly against the Augustinian system. They are urged by atheists against Theism. If there be a personal God of infinite power, why does He permit sin and misery to hold joint supremacy on earth; why are good and evil so unequally distributed, and why is the distribution so arbitrary?

Deists make the same objections against the divine authority of the Bible. They cannot receive it as the Word of God because it represents the Creator and Governor of the world as placing men under circumstances which secure in some way the universality of sin, and then punishing them with inexorable severity even for their idle words.

It is also plain that the different anti-Augustinian systems afford no real relief from these difficulties. Admitting that regeneration is the sinner's own act; admitting that every man has all the knowledge and all the ability necessary to secure his salvation, it remains true that few are saved, and that God does not interpose to prevent the great majority of adult men in the present state of the world perishing in their sins.

Augustinians do not deny these difficulties. They only maintain that they are not peculiar to their system; and they rest content with the solution of them given in the Scriptures. That solution agrees with all the facts of consciousness and experience, so far as consciousness and experience extend. The Bible teaches that man was created holy; that by his voluntary transgression of the divine law he apostatized from God; that in consequence of this apostasy all men come into the world in a state of spiritual death, both guilty and polluted; that God exercises no influence to lead them into sin, but on the contrary, by his truth, his providence, and by his Spirit exerts all that influence over them which should induce rational beings to repent and seek his pardoning mercy and sanctifying grace; that all those who sincerely and faithfully seek reconciliation with God in the way of his appointment He actually saves; that of his sovereign grace He, in the exercise of his mighty power, renews and sanctifies a multitude which no man can number, who would otherwise have continued in their sins. With these representations of the Scriptures everything within the sphere of our knowledge agrees. Consciousness and experience testify that we are an apostate race; that all men are sinners, and, being sinners, have forfeited all claims on the favour of God; that in continuing in sin and in rejecting the overtures of mercy men act voluntarily, following the desires of their own hearts. Every man's conscience, moreover, teaches him that he has never sought the salvation of his soul with the sincerity and perseverance with which men seek the things of the world, and yet failed in his efforts. Every man who comes short of eternal life knows that the responsibility rests upon himself. On the other hand, the experience of every believer is a witness to him that it is of God and not of himself that he is in Christ (1 Corinthians i. 30); every believer knows that if God had left him to himself he wodd have continued in unbelief and sin. Why God intervenes to save one and not another, when all are equally undeserving; why the things of God are revealed unto babes while hidden from the wise and prudent, can only be answered in the language of our Lord, "Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight." (Matthew xi. 26.)

The more popular and common objections that the Augustinian doctrine of regeneration leads to the neglect of the means of grace, "to waiting for God's time," to indifference or despair; that it is inconsistent with exhortations and commands addressed to sinners to repent and believe, and incompatible with moral responsibility, have already been repeatedly considered. It is enough to say once more that these objections are founded on the assumption that inability, even when it arises out of our own sinfulness, is incompatible with obligation. Besides, it is the natural and actual tendency of a sense of helplessness under a burden of evil, to lead to earnest and importunate application for relief to Him who is able to afford it, and by whom it is offered.

§ 1. Preliminary Remarks.

The first conscious exercise of the renewed soul is faith, as the first conscious act of a man born blind whose eyes have been opened, is seeing. The exercise of vision in such a man is indeed attended by so many new sensations and emotions that he cannot determine how much of this new experience comes through the eye, and how much from other sources. It is so with the believer. As soon as his eyes are opened by the renewing of the Holy Ghost he is in a new world. Old things have passed away, all things are become new. The apprehension of "the things of God" as true lies at the foundation of all the exercises of the renewed soul. The discussions on the question, Whether faith precedes repentance, or repentance faith, can have no place if the meaning of the words be agreed upon. Unless faith be limited to some of its special exercises there can be no question that in the order of nature it must precede repentance. Repentance is the turning of the soul from sin unto God, and unless this be produced by the believing apprehension of the truth it is not even a rational act. As so much prominence is assigned to faith in the Scriptures, as all the promises of God are addressed to believers, and as all the conscious exercises of spiritual life involve the exercise of faith, without which they are impossible, the importance of this grace cannot be overestimated. To the theologian and to the practical Christian it is indispensable that clear and correct ideas should be entertained on the subject. It is one of special difficulty. This difficulty arises partly from the nature of the subject; partly from the fact that usage has assigned the word faith so many different meanings; partly from the arbitrary definitions given of it by philosophers and theologians; and partly from the great diversity of aspects under which it is presented in the Word of God.

The question, What is Faith? is a very comprehensive one In one view it is a metaphysical question. What is the psychological name of the act or state of the mind which we designate faith, or belief? In this aspect the discussion concerns the philosopher as much as the theologian. Secondly, faith may be viewed as to its exercise in the whole sphere of religion and morality. Thirdly, it may be considered as a Christian grace, the fruit of the Spirit; that is, those exercises of faith which are peculiar to the regenerated people of God. This is what is meant by saving faith. Fourthly, it may be viewed in its relation to justification, sanctification, and holy living, or, as to those special exercises of faith which are required as the necessary conditions of the sinner's acceptance with God, or as essential to holiness of heart and life.

§ 2. The Psychological Nature of Faith.

Faith in the widest sense of the word, is assent to the truth, or the persuasion of the mind that a thing is true. In ordinary popular language we are said to believe whatever we regard as true. The primary element of faith is trust. The Hebrew word 'mn means to sustain, to uphold. In the Niphal, to be firm, and, in a moral sense, to be trustworthy. In the Hiphil, to regard as firm, or trustworthy, to place trust or confidence in. In like manner the Greek pisteuo (from pistis, and that from peitho, to persuade), means to trust, i.e., to be persuaded that a person or thing is trustworthy. Hence the epithet pistos is applied to any one who is, and who shows himself to be, worthy of trust. In Latin credere (whence our word credit) has the same meaning. In mercantile matters it means to lend, to trust to; and then in general, to exercise trust in. "Crede mihi," trust me, rely on my word. Fides (from fido, and that from peitho), is also trust, confidence exercised in regard to any person or thing; then the disposition, or virtue which excites confidence; then the promise, declaration, or pledge which is the outward ground of confidence. In the cognate words, fidens, fidelis, fiducia, the same idea is prominent. The German word "Glaube" has the same general meaning. It is defined by Heinsius (Wörterbuch): "der Zustand des Gemüthes, da man eine Sache für wahr hält und sich darauf verlässt," i.e., "that state of mind in which a man receives and relies upon a thing as true." The English word "faith" is said to be from the Anglo-Saxon "fægan" to covenant. It is that state ef mind which a covenant requires or supposes; that is, it is confidence in a person or thing as trustworthy. "To believe," is defined by the Latin "credere, fidem dare sive habere." "The etymologists," says Richardson, "do not attempt to account for this important word: it is undoubtedly formed on the Dut. Leven; Ger. Leben; A.-S. Lif-ian, Be-lif-ian; Goth. Liban, vivere, to live, or be-live, to dwell. Live or leve, be- or bi-live or leve, are used indifferently by old writers, whether to denote vivere or credere..... To believe, then, is to live by or according to, to abide by; to guide, conduct, regulate, govern, or direct the life by; to take, accept, assume or adopt as a rule of life; and, consequently, to think, deem, or judge right; to be firmly persuaded of, to give credit to; to trust, or think trustworthy; to have or give faith or confidence; to confide, to think or deem faithful."

From all this it appears that the primary idea of faith is trust. The primary idea of truth is that which is trustworthy; that which sustains our expectations, which does not disappoint, because it really is what it is assumed or declared to be. It is opposed to the deceitful, the false, the unreal, the empty, and the worthless. To regard a thing as true, is to regard it as worthy of trust, as being what it purports to be. Faith, in the comprehensive and legitimate meaning of the word, therefore, is trust.

In accordance with this general idea of faith, Augustine¹ says, "Credere, nihil aliud est, quam cum assensione cogitare." Thus, also, Reid² says, "Belief admits of all degrees, from the slightest suspicion to the fullest assurance..... There are many operations of the mind in which.... we find belief to be an essential ingredient..... Belief is an ingredient in consciousness, in perception, and in remembrance..... We give the name of evidence to whatever is a ground of belief..... What this evidence is, is more easily felt than described..... The common occasions of life lead us to distinguish evidence into different kinds,.... such as the evidence of sense, the evidence of memory, the evidence of consciousness, the evidence of testimony, the evidence of axioms, the evidence of reasoning..... They seem to me to agree only in this, that they are all fitted by nature to produce belief in the human mind."

The more limited Sense of the Word.

There is, however, in most cases a great difference between the general signification of a word and its special and characteristic meaning. Although, therefore, there is an element cf belief in all our cognitions, there is an important difference between what is strictly and properly called faith, and those states or acts of the mind which we designate as sight or perception, intuition, opinions, conclusions, or apodictic judgments. What that characteristic difference is, is the point to be determined. There are modes of statement on this subject current among a certain class of philosophers and theologians, which can hardly be regarded as definitions of faith. They take the word out of its ordinary and established meaning, or arbitrarily limit it to a special sphere of our mental operations. Thus Morell³ says, "Faith is the intuition of eternal verities." But eternal verities are not the only objects of faith; nor is intuition the only mode of apprehending truth which is of the nature of belief. The same objections bear against the assertion that "Faith is the organ for the supernatural and divine; "or, as Eschenmayer expresses it,⁴ "Ein vom Denken, Fühlen und Wollen verschiedenes, eigenthümliches Organ für das Ewige und Heilige; a special organ for the eternal and the holy." The supernatural and divine, however, are not the exclusive objects even of religious faith. It is by faith we know that the worlds were made by the word of God; it was by faith Noah prepared the ark, and Abraham, being called of God, went out not knowing whither he went. The objects of faith in these cases are not what is meant by "eternal verities." It is, moreover, an arbitrary assumption that faith is "a special organ," even when things supernatural and divine are its object. Our nature is adapted to the reception of all kinds of truth of which we can have any idea. But it is not necessary to assume a special organ for historical truths, a special organ for scientific truths, and another for the general truths of revelation, and still another for "the eternal and the holy." God has constituted us capable of belief, and the complex state of mind involved in the act of faith is of course different according to the nature of the truth believed, and the nature of the evidence on which our faith is founded. But this does not necessitate the assumption of a distinct organ for each kind of truth.

Faith not to be regarded as simply a Christian Grace.

No less unsatisfactory are those descriptions of faith which regard it only in its character as a Christian and saving grace. Delitzsch, for example,⁵ describes faith as the most central act of our being; the return to God, the going out of our inner life to Him. "This longing after God s free, merciful love, as his own Word declares it, a longing, reaching forth, and grasping it; this naked, unselfish craving, feeling itself satisfied with nothing else than God's promised grace; this eagerness, absorbing every ray of light that proceeds from God's reconciled love; this convinced and safety-craving appropriation and clinging to the word of grace; this is faith. According to its nature, it is the pure receptive correlative of the word of promise; a means of approaching again to God, which, as the word itself, is appointed through the distance of God in consequence of sin; for faith has to confide in the word, in spite of all want of comprehension, want of sight, want of experience. No experimental actus reflexi belong to the nature of faith. It is, according to its nature, actia directa, to wit, fiducia supplex." All this is doubtless true of the believer. He does thus long after God, and appropriate the assurance of his love, and cling to his promises of grace; but faith has a wider range than this. There are exercises of faith not included in this description, recorded in Scripture, and especially in the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews.

Erdmann⁶ says that religious faith, the faith on which the Scriptures lay so much stress, is, "Bewusstseyn der Versöhnung mit Gott, consciousness of reconciliation with God." He insists that faith cannot be separated from its contents. It is not the man who holds this or that to be true, who is a believer; but the man who is convinced of a specific truth, namely, that he is reconciled with God. Calling faith a consciousness is not a definition of its nature. And limiting it to a consciousness of reconciliation with God is contrary to the usage of Scripture and of theology.

Definitions of Faith founded on its Subjective Nature.

The more common and generally received definitions of faith, may perhaps be reduced to three classes, all of which include the general idea of persuasion of the truth. But some seek the distinguishing character of faith in its subjective nature, others, in the nature of its object; others, in the nature of the evidence, or ground on which it rests.

Faith as distinguished from Opinion and Knowledge.

To the first of these classes belong the following definitions: Faith or belief is said to be a persuasion of the truth stronger than opinion, and weaker than knowledge. Metaphysicians divide the objects of our cognitions into the possible, the real, and the necessary. With regard to the merely possible we can form only conjectures, or opinions, more or less plausible or probable. With regard to things which the mind with greater or less confidence views as certain, although it cannot justify that confidence to itself or others, i.e., cannot demonstrate the certainty of the object, it is said to believe. What it is perfectly assured of, and can demonstrate to be true so as to coerce conviction, it is said to know. Thus Locke defines faith to be the assent of the mind to propositions which are probably, but not certainly true. Bailey⁷ says, "I propose to confine it [belief or faith] first, to the effect on the mind of the premises in what is termed probable reasoning, or what I have named contingent reasoning — in a word the premises in all reasoning, but that which is demonstrative; and secondly, to the state of holding true when that state, far from being the effect of any premises discerned by the mind, is dissociated from all evidence." To believe is to admit a thing as true, according to Kant, on grounds sufficient subjectively, insufficient objectively. Or, as more fully stated, "Holding for true, or the subjective validity of a judgment in relation to conviction (which is, at the same time, objectively valid) has the three following degrees: opinion, belief, and knowledge. Opinion is a consciously insufficient judgment, subjectively as well as objectively. Belief is subjectively sufficient, but is recognized as being objectively insufficient. Knowledge is both subjectively and objectively sufficient. Subjective sufficiency is termed conviction (for myself); objective sufficiency is termed certainty (for all)."⁸ Erdmann⁹ says, "Man versteht unter Glauben eine jede Gewissheit, die geringer ist als das Wissen, und etwa stärker ist als ein blesses Meinen oder Fürmöglichhalten (z. B. ich glaube, dass es heute regnen wird)." "By faith is understood any persuasion which is weaker than knowledge, but somewhat stronger than a mere deeming possible or probable, as, e.g., I believe it will rain to-day." This he gives as the commonly accepted meaning of the word, although he utterly repudiates it as a definition of religious faith.

It is urged in support of this definition of faith that with regard to everything of which we are not absolutely sure, and yet are persuaded or convinced of its truth, we say we believe. Thus with respect to things remembered; if the recollection is indistinct and uncertain, we say we think, e.g., we think we saw a certain person at a given time and place; we are not sure, but such is our impression. If our persuasion of the fact be stronger, we say we believe it. If we have, and can have, no doubt about it, we say we know it. In like manner the testimony of our senses may be so weak as to produce only a probability that the thing is as it appears; if clearer, it produces a belief more or less decided; if so clear as to preclude all doubt, the effect is knowledge. If we see a person at a distance, and we are entirely uncertain who it is, we can only say we think it is some one whom we know. If that persuasion becomes stronger, we say, we believe it is he. If perfectly sure, we say, we know it. In all these cases the only difference between opinion, belief, and knowledge, is their relative strength. The objects are the same, their relation to the mind is the same, and the ground or evidence on which they severally rest is of the same kind. It is said that it would be incorrect to say, "We believe that we slept in our house last night;" if perfectly sure of the fact. If a witness in a court of justice simply says, "I believe I was at a certain place at a given time," his testimony would be of no value. He must be able to say that he is sure of the fact — that he knows it.

Of this definition of faith, it may be remarked, —

1. That the meaning which it assigns to the word is certainly legitimate, sustained by established usage. The states of mind expressed by the words, I think a thing to be true; I believe it; I know it, are distinguished from each other simply by the different degrees of certainty which enter into them respectively. The probable ground of this use of the word to believe, is, that there is more of the element of trust (or a voluntarily giving to evidence a greater influence on the mind than of necessity belongs to it), manifest in our consciousness, than is expressed by saying we think, or, we know. However this may be, it cannot be denied that the word belief often expresses a degree of conviction greater than opinion and less than knowledge.

2. But this is not the distinguishing characteristic of faith, or its differentia. There are exercises of faith into which this uncertainty does not enter. Some of the strongest convictions of which the mind is capable are beliefs. Even our assurance of the veracity of consciousness, the foundation of all other convictions, is of the nature of faith. So the primary truths which are, and must be assumed in all our researches and arguments, are beliefs. They are taken on trust. They cannot be proved. If any man denies them, there is nothing more to be said. He cannot be convinced. Sir William Hamilton¹⁰ says, "St. Austin accurately says, We know what rests upon reason; we believe what rests upon authority.' But reason itself must at last rest upon authority; for the original data of reason do not rest on reason, but are necessarily accepted by reason on the authority of what is beyond itself. These data are, therefore, in rigid propriety, beliefs or trusts. Thus it is that, in the last resort, we must, perforce, philosophically admit, that belief is the primary condition of reason, and not reason the ultimate ground of belief. We are compelled to surrender the proud Intellige ut credas of Abelard, to content ourselves with the humble Crede ut intelligas of Anselm."

The same is true in other spheres. The effect on the mind produced by human testimony is universally recognized as faith. If that testimony is inadequate it does not preclude doubt; but it may be so strong as to make all doubt impossible. No sane man ean doubt the existence of such cities as London and Paris. But to most men that existence is not a matter of knowledge either intuitive or discursive. It is something taken on trust, on the authority of others; which taking on trust is admitted by philosophers, theologians, and the mass of men, to be a form of faith. Again, in some moral states of mind a man's conviction of the reality of a future state of reward and punishment is as strong as his belief in his own existence, and much stronger than his confidence in the testimony of his senses. And yet a future state of existence is not a matter of knowledge. It is an object of faith, or a thing believed. We accordingly find that the Scriptures teach that there is a full assurance of faith; a faith which precludes the possibility of doubt. Paul says, "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." (2 Tim. i. 12.) As Job had said ages before, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." The Apostle declares, Hebrews xi. 1, faith to be an hupostasis and elenchos, than which no stronger terms could be selected to express assured conviction. The power, also, which the Bible attributes to faith as the controlling principle of life, as overcoming the world, subduing kingdoms, stopping the mouths of lions, quenching the violence of fire, turning to flight the armies of the aliens, is proof enough that it is no weak persuasion of the truth. That definition, therefore, which makes the characteristic of faith to be a measure of confidence greater than opinion, but less than knowledge, cannot be deemed satisfactory.

A second definition of faith, founded on its nature, is that which makes it "a voluntary conviction or persuasion of the truth." This is a very old view of the matter. According to Theodoret,¹¹ pistis estin hekousios tes psuches sunkatatheitis, i.e., "a voluntary assent of the mind." And Thomas Aquinas says,¹² "Credere est actus intellectus assentientis veritati divinæ ex imperio voluntatis a Deo motæ per gratiam."¹³ He distinguishes between knowledge and faith by representing the former as the conviction produced by the object itself seen intuitively or discursively ("sicut patet in principiis primis,.... vel.... sicut patet de conclusionibus") to be true; whereas in the latter the mind is not sufficiently moved to assent "ab objecto proprio, sed per quandam electionem, voluntarie declinans in unam partem magis quam in alteram. Et siquidem hæc sit cum dubitatione et formidine alterius partis, erit opinio. Si autem sit cum certitudine absque tali formidine, erit fides."

This definition admits of different explanations. The word "voluntary," if its meaning be determined by the wide sense of the word "will," includes every operation of the mind not purely intellectual. And therefore to say that faith is a voluntary assent is to say that faith is not merely a speculative assent, an act of the judgment pronouncing a thing to be true, but includes feeling. Nitsch, therefore, defines faith to be a "gefühlsmassiges Erkennen." "Die Einheit des Gefühls und der Erkenntniss;¹⁴ a knowledge or persuasion of truth combined with feeling, — the unity of feeling and knowledge." But if the word "will" be taken in the sense of the power of self-determination, then nothing is voluntary which does not involve the exercise of that power. If in this sense faith be voluntary, then we must have the power to believe or disbelieve at pleasure. If we believe the truth, it is because we choose or determine ourselves to receive it; if we reject it, it is because we will to disbelieve it. The decision is determined neither by the nature of the object nor by the nature or degree of the evidence. Sometimes both of these meanings of the word voluntary seem to be combined by those who define faith to be a voluntary assent of the mind, or an assent of the intellect determined by the will. This appears from what Aquinas, for example, says when he discusses the question whether faith is a virtue. He argues that if faith be a virtue, which he admits it to be, it must include love, because love is the form or principle of all the virtues; and it must be self-determined because there could be no virtue in faith if it were the inevitable effect of the evidence or testimony. If a virtue, it must include an act of self-determination; we must decide to do what we have the power not to do.

This definition of faith contains many elements of truth. In the first place: it is true that faith and feeling are often inseparable. They together constitute that state of mind to which the name faith is given. The perception of beauty is of necessity connected with the feeling of delight. Assent to moral truth involves the feeling of moral approbation. In like manner spiritual discernment (faith when the fruit of the Spirit) includes delight in the things of the Spirit, not only as true, but as beautiful and good. This is the difference between a living and dead faith. This is the portion of truth involved in the Romish doctrine of a formed and unformed faith. Faith (assent to the truth) connected with love is the fides formata; faith without love is fides informis. While, however, it is true that faith is often necessarily connected with feeling, and, therefore, in one sense of the term, is a voluntary assent, yet this is not always the csse. Whether feeling attends and enters into the exercise of faith, depends upon its object (or the thing believed) and the evidence on which it is founded. When the object of faith is speculative truth, or some historical event past or future; or when the evidence or testimony on which faith is founded is addressed only to the understanding and not to the conscience or to our emotional or religious nature, then faith does not involve feeling. We believe the great mass of historical facts to which we assent as true, simply on historical testimony, and without any feeling entering into, or necessarily connected with it. The same is true with regard to a large part of the contents of the Bible. They, to a great extent, are historical, or the predictions of historical events. When we believe what the Scriptures record concerning the creation, the deluge, the calling of Abraham, the overthrow of the cities of the plain, the history of Joseph, and the like, our faith does not include feeling. It is not an exercise of the will in either sense of that word. It is simply a rational conviction founded on sufficient evidence. It may be said, as Aquinas does say, that it is love or reverence towards God which inclines the will to believe such facts on the authority of his Word. But wicked men believe them, and cannot help believing them. A man can hardly be found who does not believe that the Israelites dwelt in Egypt, escaped from bondage, and took possession of the land of Canaan.

In the second place, it is true not only that faith is in many cases inseparable from feeling, but also that feeling has much influence in determining our faith. This is especially true when moral and religious truths are the objects of faith. Want of congeniality with the truth produces insensibility to the evidence by which it is supported. Our Lord said to the Jews, "Ye believe not, because ye are not of my sheep." (John x. 26.) And in another place, "If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God." (vii. 17.) And the Apostle says of those that are lost, "The god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them." (2 Cor. iv. 4.) The truth was present, attended by appropriate and abundant evidence, but there was no susceptibility. The defect was in the organ of vision, not in the want of light. The Scriptures uniformly refer the unbelief of those who reject the gospel to the state of their hearts. There can be no doubt that all the true children of God received Christ as their God and Saviour on the evidence which He gave of him divine character and mission, and that He was rejected only by the unrenewed and the wicked, and because of their wickedness. Hence unbelief is so great a sin. Men are condemned because they believe not on the only begotten Son of God. (John iii. 18.) All this is true. It is true of saving faith. But it is not true of all kinds of even religious faith; that is, of faith which has religious truth for its object. And, therefore, it cannot furnish the differentia or criterion to distinguish faith from other forms of assent to truth. There are states of mind not only popularly, but correctly called belief, of which it is not true that love, or congeniality, is an element. There is such a thing as dead faith, or orthodoxy. There is such a thing as speculative faith. Simon Magus believed. Even the devils believe. And if we turn to other than religious truths it is still more apparent that faith is not necessarily a voluntary assent of the mind. A man may hear of something most repugnant to his feelings, as, for example, of the triumph of a rival. He may at first refuse to believe it; but the testimony may become so strong as to force conviction. This conviction is, by common consent, faith or belief. It is not sight; it is not intuition; it is not a deduction; it is belief; a conviction founded on testimony. This subject, i.e., the connection between faith and feeling, will come up again in considering other definitions.

In the third place, if we take the word voluntary in the sense which implies volition or self-determination, it is still more evident that faith cannot be defined as voluntary assent. It is, indeed, a proverb that a man convinced, against his will remains unconvinced. But this is only a popular way of expressing the truth just conceded, namely, that the feelings have, in many cases, great influence in determining our faith. But, as just remarked, a man may be constrained to believe against his will. He may struggle against conviction; he may determine he will not believe, and yet conviction may be forced upon him. Napoleon, at the battle of Waterloo, hears that Grouchy is approaching. He gladly believes it. Soon the report reaches him that the advancing columns are Prussians. This he will not believe. Soon, however, as courier after courier confirms the unwelcome fact, he is forced to believe it. It is not true, therefore, that in faith as faith there is always, as Aquinas says, an election "voluntarie declinans in unam partem magis quam in alteram." There is another frequent experience. We often hear men say they would give the world if they could believe. The dying Grotius said he would give all his learning for the simple faith of his unlettered servant. To tell a man he can believe if he will is to contradict his consciousness. He tries to believe. He earnestly prays for faith; but he cannot exercise it. It is true, as concerns the sinner in relation to the gospel, that this inability to believe arises from the state of his mind. But this state of the mind lies below the will. It cannot be determined or changed by the exercise of any voluntary power. On these grounds the definition of faith, whether as generic or religious, as a voluntary assent to truth, must be considered unsatisfactory.

Definitions founded on the Object of Faith.

The preceding definitions are all founded on the assumed subjective nature of faith. The next definition is of a different kind. It is founded on the nature of its object. Faith is said to be the persuasion of the truth of things not seen. This is a very old and familiar definition. "Quid est fides," asks Augustine,¹⁵ "nisi credere quod non vides." And Lombard¹⁶ says, "Fides est virtus qua creduntur quæ non videntur." Hence faith is said to be swallowed up in vision; and the one is contrasted with the other; as when the Apostle says, "We walk by faith, not by sight." And in Hebrews, eleventh chapter, all the objects of faith under the aspect in which it is considered in that chapter, are included under the categories of ta elpizomena and ta ou blepomena, "things hoped for, and things not seen." The latter includes the former. "We hope," says the Apostle, "for that we see not." (Romans viii. 25.) The word sight, in this connection, may be taken in three senses. First, in its literal sense. We are not said to believe what we see with our eyes. What we see we know to be true. We believe that the planet Saturn is surrounded by a belt, and that Jupiter has four satellites, on the unanimous testimony of astronomers. But if we look through a telescope and see the belt of the one and the satellites of the other, our faith passes into knowledge. We believe there is such a city as Rome, and that it contains the Colosseum, Trajan's Arch, and other monuments of antiquity. If we visit that city and see these things for ourselves, our faith becomes knowledge. The conviction is no stronger in the one case than in the other. We are just as sure there is such a city before having seen it, as though we had been there a hundred times. But the conviction is of a different kind. Secondly, the mind is said to see when it perceives an object of thought to be true in its own light, or by its own radiance. This mental vision may be either immediate or mediate — either intuitive or through a process of proof. A child may believe that the angles of a triangle are together equal to two right angles, on the authority of his teacher. When he understands the demonstration of that proposition, his faith becomes knowledge. He sees it to be true. The objects of sense-perception, the objects of intuition, and what we recognize as true on a process of proof, are not, according to this definition of the term, objects of faith. We know what we see to be true; we believe when we recognize as true what we do not see. It is true that the same thing may be an object of faith and an object of knowledge, but not at the same time. We may recognize as true the being of God, or the immortality of the soul, because the propositions, "God is," "the soul is immortal," are susceptible of proof. The arguments in support of those propositions may completely satisfy our minds. But they are truths of revelation to be believed on the authority of God. These states of mind which we call knowledge and faith, are not identical, neither are they strictly coexisting. The effect produced by the demonstration is one thing. The effect produced by the testimony of God's word, is another thing. Both include a persuasion of the truth. But that persuasion is in its nature different in the one case from what it is in the other, as it rests on different grounds. When the arguments are before the mind, the conviction which they produce is knowledge. When the testimony of God is before the mind, the conviction which it produces is faith. On this subject Thomas Aquinas says,¹⁷ "Necessarium est homini accipere per modum fidei non solum ea, quæ sunt supra rationem: sed etiam ea, quæ per rationem cognosci possunt. Et hoc propter tria, Primo quidem, ut citius homo ad veritatis divinæ cognitionem perveniat..... Secundo, ut cognitio Dei sit communior. Multi enim in studio scientiæ proficere non possunt..... Tertio modo proptor certitudinem. Ratio enim humana in rebus divinis est multum deficiens."

Thirdly, under the "things not seen," some would include all things not present to the mind. A distinction is made between presentative and representative knowledge. In the former the object is present at the time; we perceive it, we are conscious of it. In representative knowledge there is an object now present, representing an absent object. Thus we have the conception of a person or thing. That conception is present, but the thing represented is absent. It is not before the mind. It belongs to the category of things not seen. The conception which is present is the object of knowledge; the thing represented is an object of faith. That is, we know we have the conception; we believe that the thing which it represents, does or did exist. If we visit a particular place while present to our senses we know that it exists; when we come away and form an idea or conception of it, that is, when we recall it by an effort of memory, then we believe in its existence. "Whenever we have passed beyond presentative knowledge, and are assured of the reality of an absent object, there faith.... has entered as an element."¹⁸

Sir William Hamilton¹⁹ says, "Properly speaking, we know only the actual and the present, and all real knowledge is an immediate knowledge. What is said to be mediately known, is, in truth, not known to be, but only believed to be." This, it may be remarked in passing, would apply to all the propositions of Euclid. For they are "mediately known," i.e., seen to be true by means of a process of proof. Speaking of memory, Hamilton says, "It is not a knowledge of the past at all; but a knowledge of the present and a belief of the past." "We are said," according to Dr. McCosh, "to know ourselves, and the objects presented to the senses and the representations (always however as presentations) in the mind; but to believe in objects which we have seen in time past, but which are not now present, and in objects which we have never seen, and very specially in objects which we can never fully know, such as an Infinite God."²⁰

According to this view, we know what is present to the mind, and believe what is absent. The first objection to this representation is the ambiguity of the words present and absent as thus used. When is an object present? and when is it absent? It is easy to answer this question when the object is something material or an external event. Such objects are present ("præsensibus") when they affect the senses; and absent when they do not. A city or building is present when we actually see it; absent, when we leave the place where it is, and recall the image of it. But how is it with propositions? The Bible says all men are sinners. The truth thus announced is present to the mind. We do not know it. We cannot prove it. But we believe it upon the authority of God. The Scriptures teach that Christ died as a ransom for many. Here, not only the historical fact that He died is announced, but the purpose for which He died. Here again, we have a truth present to the mind, which is an object of faith.

The second objection is involved in the first. The terms present and absent are not only ambiguous in this connection, but it is not true, as just stated, that an object must be absent in order to be an object of faith. The differentia, in other words, between knowledge and faith, is not found in the presence or absence of their objects. We can know what is absent, and we can believe what is present.

The third objection is, that the conviction we have of the reality or truth of what we distinctly remember is knowledge, and not distinctively faith, unless we choose to establish a new and arbitrary definition of the word knowledge. We know what is perceived by the senses; we know what the mind sees, either intuitively or discursively, is and must be true; and we know what we distinctly remember. The conviction is in all these cases of the same nature. In all it resolves itself into confidence in the veracity of consciousness. We are conscious that we perceive sensible objects. We are conscious that we cognize certain truths. We are conscious that we remember certain events. In all these cases this consciousness involves the conviction of the reality or truth of what is seen, mentally apprehended or remembered. This conviction is, or may be, as strong in any one of these cases as in either of the others; and it rests in all ultimately on the same ground. There is, therefore, no reason for calling one knowledge and the other belief. Memory is as much a knowledge of the past, as other forms of consciousness are a knowledge of the present.

The fourth objection is that to deny that memory gives us the knowledge of the past, is contrary to established usage. It is true we are said to believe that we remember such and such events, when we are uncertain about it. But this is because in one of the established meanings of the word, belief expresses a less degree of certainty than knowledge. But men never speak of believing past events in their experience concerning which they are absolutely certain. We know that we were alive yesterday. No man says he believes he has seen his father or mother or any intimate friend, whom he had known for years. Things distinctly remembered are known, and not merely believed.

The definition which makes faith to be the persuasion of the truth of things not seen, is, however, correct, if by "things not seen" are meant things which are neither objects of the senses, nor of intuition, nor of demonstrative proof. But it does not seem to be correct to include among the "things not seen," which are the special objects of faith, things remembered and not now present to mind. This definition of faith, while correct in limiting it as to its objects to things not seen, in the sense above stated, is nevertheless defective in not assigning the ground of our conviction of their truth. Why do we believe things to be true, which we have never seen and which we cannot prove? Different answers are given to that question; and, therefore, the definition which gives no answer to it, must be considered defective.

Definitions founded on the Nature of the Evidence on which Faith rests.

Some of the definitions of faith, as we have seen, are founded on its subjective nature; others on its objects. Besides these there are others which seek its distinguishing characteristic in the ground on which the conviction which it includes, rests. The first of these is that which makes faith to be a conviction or persuasion of truth founded on feeling. This is by many regarded as the one most generally received. Hase²¹ says, "Every cultivated language has a word for that form of conviction which, in opposition to the self-evident and demonstrable, rests on moral and emotional grounds." That word in Greek is pistis; in English "faith." In his "Hutterus Redivivus,"²² he says, "The common idea of faith is: unmittelbar Fürwahrhalten, ohne Vermittelung eines Schlussbeweises, durch Neigung und Bedürfniss," i.e., "A persuasion of the truth, without the intervention of argument, determined by inclination and inward necessity." He quotes the definition of faith by Twesten, as "a persuasion or conviction of truth produced by feeling;" and that of Nitzsch, given above, "the unity of knowledge and feeling." Strauss²³ says, "The way in which a man appropriates the contents of a revelation, the inward ascent which he yields to the contents of the Scriptures and the doctrine of the Church, not because of critical or philosophical research, but often in opposition to them overpowered by a feeling which the Evangelical Church calls the testimony of the Spirit, but which in fact is only the perception of the identity of his own religious life with that portrayed in the Scripture and prevailing in the Church, — this assent determined by feeling — in ecclesiastical language, is called Faith." Again,²⁴ he says, "The pious man receives religious truth because he feels its reality, and because it satisfies his religious wants," and, therefore, he adds, "No religion was ever propagated by means of arguments addressed to the understanding, or of historical or philosophical proofs, and this is undeniably true of Christianity." Every preacher of a new religion assumes in those to whom he presents it, an unsatisfied religious necessity, and all he has to do is to make them feel that such necessity is met by the religion which he proposes. Celsus, he tells us, made it a ground of reproach against the Christians that they believed blindly, that they could not justify the doctrines which they held at the bar of reason. To this Origen answered, that this was true only of the people; that with the educated, faith was elevated into knowledge, and Christianity transformed into a philosophy. The Church was divided between believers and knowers. The relation between faith and knowledge, between religion and philosophy, has been the subject of controversy from that day to this. Some took the ground of Origen and of the Alexandrian school generally, that it is incumbent on educated Christians to justify their doctrines at the bar of reason, and prove them to be true of philosophical grounds. Others held that the truths of revelation were, at least in many cases, of a kind which did not admit of philosophical demonstration, although they were not on that account to be regarded as contrary to reason, but only as beyond its sphere. Others, again, taught that there is a direct conflict between faith and knowledge; that what the believing Christian holds to be true, can be shown by the philosopher to be false. This is Strauss's own doctrine, and, therefore, he concludes his long discussion of this point by saying, "The believer should let the knower go his own way in peace, just as the knower does the believer. We leave them their faith, let them leave us our philosophy..... There have been enough of false irenical attempts. Henceforth only separation of opposing principles can lead to any good."²⁵ On the same page he admits the great truth, "That human nature has one excellent characteristic: what any man feels is for him a spiritual necessity, he allows no man to take from him."

With regard to the definition of faith which makes it a conviction founded on feeling, it may be remarked, —

First, That there are forms of faith of which this is not true. As remarked above, when treating of the cognate definition of faith as a voluntary assent of the mind, it is not true of faith in general. We often believe unwillingly, and what is utterly repugnant to our feelings.

Secondly, It is not true even of religious faith, or faith which has religious truth for its object. For there may be faith without love, i.e., a speculative, or dead faith.

Thirdly, It is not true of many of the exercises of faith in good men. Isaac believed that Jacob would be preferred to Esau, sorely against his will. Jacob believed that his descendants would be slaves in Egypt. The prophets believed in the seventy years captivity of their countrymen. The Apostles believed that a great apostasy in the Church was to occur between their age and the second coming of the Lord. The answer of Thomas Aquinas to this, is, that a man is constrained by his will (i.e., his feelings) to believe in the Scriptures, and then he believes all the Scriptures contain. So that his faith, even in the class of truths just referred to, rests ultimately on feeling. But this answer is unsatisfactory. For if the question is asked, Why did the prophets believe in the captivity, and the Apostles in the apostasy? the answer would be, not from the effect of these truths upon their feelings, but on the authority of God. And if it be further asked, Why did they believe the testimony of God? the answer may be because God's testimony carries conviction. He can make his voice heard even by the deaf or the dead. Or, the answer may be, because they were good men. But in either case, the question carries us beyond the ground of their faith. They believe because God had revealed the facts referred to. Their goodness may have rendered them susceptible to the evidence afforded, but it did not constitute that evidence.

Fourthly, It is admitted that the exercise of saving faith, i.e., of that faith which is the fruit of the Spirit and product of regeneration, is attended by feeling appropriate to its object. But this is to be referred to the nature of the object. If we believe a good report, the effect is joy; if an evil report, the effect is sorrow. The perception of beauty produces delight; of moral excellence, a glow of approbation, of spiritual things, in many cases. a joy that is unspeakable and full of glory.

Fifthly, It is also true that all these truths, if not all truth, have a sell-evidencing light, which cannot be apprehended without a conviction that it really is what it is apprehended as being. It may also be admitted, that so far as the consciousness of true believers is concerned, the evidence of truth is the truth itself; in other words, that the ground of their faith is, in one sense, subjective. They see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, and therefore believe that He is God manifested in the flesh. They see that the representations made by the Scriptures of the sinfulness, guilt, and helplessness of fallen man, correspond with their own inward experience, and they are therefore constrained to receive these representations as true. They see that the plan of salvation proposed in the Bible suits their necessities, their moral judgments and religious aspirations, they therefore embrace it. All this is true, but it does not prove faith to be a conviction founded on feeling; for there are many forms of faith which confessedly are not founded on feeling; and even in the case of true believers, their feelings are not the ultimate ground of faith. They always fall back on the authority of God, who is regarded as the author of these feelings, through which the testimony of the Spirit is revealed to the consciousness. "We may be moved and induced," says the "Westminster Confession,"²⁶ "by the testimony of the Church to an high and reverend esteem of the Holy Scripture; and the heavenliness of the matter, the efficacy of the doctrine, the majesty of the style, the consent of all the parts, the scope of the whole (which is to give all glory to God), the full discovery it makes of the only way of man's salvation, the many other incomparable excellences, and the entire perfection thereof, are arguments whereby it doth abundantly evidence itself to be the word of God; yet, notwithstanding, our full persuasion and assurance of the infallible truth and divine authority thereof is from the inward work of the Holy Spirit, bearing witness by and with the word in our hearts." The ultimate ground of faith, therefore, is the witness of the Spirit.

Faith a Conviction of the Truth founded on Testimony.

The only other definition of faith to be considered, is that which makes it, a conviction of truth founded on testimony. We have already seen that Augustine says, "We know what rests upon reason; we believe what rests upon authority." A definition to which Sir William Hamilton gives his adhesion.²⁷ In the Alexandrian School also, the Christian pistis, was Auctoritäts-Glaube, a faith founded on authority, opposed, on the one hand, to the heathen episteme, and on the other to the Christian gnosis, or philosophical explanation and proof of the truths believed. Among the school-men also, this was the prevalent idea. When they defined faith to be the persuasion of things not seen, they meant things which we receive as true on authority, and not because we either know or can prove them. Hence it was constantly said, faith is human when it rests on the testimony of men; divine when it rests on the testimony of God. Thomas Aquinas²⁸ says, "Non fides, de qua loquimur, assentit alicui, nisi quia est a Deo revelatum." "Faith, of which we speak, assents to nothing except because it is revealed by God." We believe on the authority of God, and not because we see, know, or feel a thing to be true. This is the purport of the teaching of the great body of the scholastic divines. Such also was the doctrine of the Reformers, and of the theologians of the subsequent age, both Lutheran and Reformed. Speaking of assent, which he regards as the second act or element of faith, Aquinas says, "Hic actus fidei non rerum evidentia aut causarum et proprietatum notitia, sed Dei dicentis infallibili auctoritate." Turrettin²⁹ says, "Non quæritur, An fides sit scientia, quæ habeat evidentiam: Sic enim distinguitur a scientia, quæ habet assensum certum et evidentem, qui nititur ratione clara et certa, et ab opinione, quæ nititur ratione tantum probabili; ubi fides notat assensum certum quidem, sed inevidentem, qui non ratione, sed testimonio divino nititur." De Moor³⁰ says, "Fides subjectiva est persuasio de veritate rei, alterius testimonio nixa, quomodo fides illa generatim descripta, scientiæ et conjecturæ opponitur..... Dividitur.... in fidem divinam, quæ nititur testimonio divino, et humanam, quæ fundata est in testimonio humano fide accepto." Owen,³¹ "All faith is an assent upon testimony; and divine faith is an assent upon a divine testimony." John Howe³² asks, "Why do I believe Jesus to be the Christ? Because the eternal God hath given his testimony concerning Him that so He is." "A man's believing comes all to nothing without this, that there is a divine testimony." Again,³³ "I believe such a thing, as God reveals it, because it is reported to me upon the authority of God." Bishop Pearson³⁴ says, "When anything propounded to us is neither apparent to our sense, nor evident to our understanding, in and of itself, neither certainly to be collected from any clear and necessary connection with the cause from which it proceedeth, or the effects which it naturally produceth, nor is taken up upon any real arguments or reference to other acknowledged truths, and yet notwithstanding appeareth to us true, not by a manifestation, but attestation of the truth, and so moveth us to assent not of itself, but by virtue of the testimony given to it; this is said properly to be credible; and an assent unto this, upon such credibility, is in the proper notion faith or belief."

This View almost universally Held.

This view of the nature of faith is all but universally received, not by theologians only, but by philosophers, and the mass of Christian people. The great question has ever been, whether we are to receive truth on authority, or only upon rational evidence. Leibnitz begins his "Discours de la Conformité de la Foi avec la Raison," by saying, "Je suppose, que deux vérités ne sauroient se contredire; que l'objet de la foi est la vérité que Dieu a révélée d'une manière extraordinaire, et que la raison est l'enchainment des vérités, mais particulièrement (lorsqu'elle est comparés avec la foi) de celles où l'esprit humain peut atteindre naturellement, sans être aidé des lumières de la foi."³⁵

It has already been admitted that the essential element of faith is trust; and, therefore, in the general sense of the word to believe, is to trust. Faith is the reliance of the mind on anything as true and worthy of confidence. In this wide sense of the word, it matters not what may be the objects, or what the grounds of this trust. The word, however, is commonly used in reference to truths which we receive on trust without being able to prove them. Thus we are said to believe in our own existence, the reality of the external world, and all the primary truths of the reason. These by common consent are called beliefs. Reason begins with believing, i.e., with taking on trust what it neither comprehends nor proves. Again, it has been admitted that the word belief is often and legitimately used to express a degree of certainty less than knowledge and stronger than probability; as when we say, we are not sure, but we believe that a certain thing happened.