Polytheism, Tritheism, and the Trinity

A missionary who had spent the best part of his life in a Mohammedan country was accused of being almost a Sabellian. But, as for myself, after many years spent in China, with its triple polytheism,—the Scholar, Taoist, and Buddhist cults,—I feel disposed to affirm more boldly the tripersonality of Godhood. This is not due to long familiarity with people who worship three sets of deities, but has come about through the contrast forced on my mind between the practical workings of this confusion heaped on confusion, and the practical side of the Christian Trinity.

Polytheism begets moral and religious anarchy. There is no one fixed and definite object of reverence and trust, no one fixed and all-embracing source of reward and punishment for virtue and for vice, no immutable law of righteousness. Few people in Christian countries understand how confused, how reprehensible, how pitiful a thing, is polytheism.

Confused? One often sees in a Chinese house a large sheet of red paper pasted up in the place of honor, and inscribed, down the center, with large characters to this effect, “Seat of the Shên of Heaven, Earth, Sovereigns, Teachers, Progenitors,” and, on either side of this inscription, the names of various Taoist and Buddhist deities impartially intermingled. One such inscription which I saw had down the center, “The Golden Censer before the Seat of the Shên of the Three Teachings, Scholar, Buddhist, Taoist.”

Reprehensible? The gambler, the sharper, the quack, the thief, the harlot,—all have their patron gods. In polytheism we have a medley of devices for the securing of supernatural favor and protection, regardless of moral character; for securing unmerited benefits, and averting the just consequences of wrong-doing, without repentance or change of character. And, worse than this, its rites are sometimes openly associated with gluttony, drunkenness, and prostitution,—all perpetrated in the service of, and for the delectation of, certain gods. All polytheism is not so bad as this; but none is genuinely good.

Pitiable? A family meet with misfortune; who or what is to blame? Is it that their residence is located across the path of malicious spirits, or does it disturb by its location the “dragon”; or is it that the tomb of some ancestor is obnoxious to evil from some such source? Or have they offended some god or demon; and, if so, which one, and in what way? There is no fixed character of godhood, no certain standard of conduct, by which their past actions can be tested, and the “Achan” located. They consult gods, demons, geomancers, necromancers, oracles, and what not, and all in vain.

In connection with all this polytheistic confusion, the idea of Godhood is horribly perverted and debased. The term Shên, which is used to represent God, Theos, Elohim, by a very respectable minority of missionaries in China, well illustrates this. A Chinese scholar, whom I interrogated in regard to this term, replied, “Shên originally meant God; but it has become exceedingly degraded in common use.” In its highest uses, especially in the ancient classics, it does express a certain conception of Godhood,—a godhood inferior indeed to that of the Hebrews, but superior to that of the Greeks, which in turn was superior to that of the Latins. To-day, however, if you were to observe a Chinese, as he enters a foul public convenience, give a little cough of apology to the guardian shên of the filthy place, you might begin to realize somewhat of the depths to which this once lofty word has been dragged down, and how debased and contemptible polytheistic conceptions of deityhood may become. Not all polytheism goes as low as this; but where will you find a system of polytheism that does not rob deity of true Godhood. The Greek theoi were not self-existent, not eternal, not necessarily good. In fact, to some of them were ascribed a bastard birth by immoral gods and goddesses. Though they were generally reckoned as of superhuman parentage, even this conception was not kept intact; and in the correlated dii of the Romans it seemed to become a non-essential element. The same has come to be the case with shên; only this term has become so degraded, through the combined influence of Buddhism, Taoism, pantheism, and materialism, that in some cases it does not even designate spirit, but only what we call animal spirits. It was against systems of polytheism which tended to such corruption and confusion as this that the “man of Elohim,” “Yahwe’s prophet,” proclaimed the unity and holiness of God-hood.

It is interesting, in this connection, to note the contrasting usages of the Old Testament as to divine names. Take, for instance, the simple Elohim of Genesis 1, in contrast with the Jehovah-Elohim of Genesis 2 and 3.To one who has long been obliged to appropriate to the uses of monotheism terms perverted by gross polytheism, Jehovah-Elohim naturally appears as the product of effort in the same line, the use of a newer personal name to define a more familiar but not un-contaminated term. But is the plural form Elohim a case of pluralis majestations? If so, why should its verb be singular? Adonim, “Lords,” is used in the same way to designate God, and is translated by the singular, “Lord.” A likely suggestion is that these plurals were used to express the sum of the attributes of godhood and lordship, and then applied to the Being who embodied these. Yet these plurals harmonize with the thought of a trinity in unity.

It is interesting, also, to compare Joseph’s simple use of Elohim in addressing the Pharaoh of his age, with the usage of Daniel in addressing Nebuchadnezzar, and with the course pursued by Moses toward the Israelites and the Pharaoh of the Exodus. In this latter case we have the earliest record of a pitched battle between the claims of the one true God and the polytheism of the goiim; and Moses’ perplexity as to what name to use in addressing the Israelites comes home to me now as it could not have done when I was studying these things in the seminary. Yet in this contest Moses does not assert the unity of Godhood, but assumes the supremacy of Jehovah, and makes his demands in the name of the God of the Hebrews; while Pharaoh replies, “I know not Jehovah, and moreover I will not let Israel go.” To have asserted the unity of God would have been premature, and only complicated the issue. In a like manner Daniel asserted only the supremacy of the God of heaven, and even this he demonstrated rather than asserted. It was only with Israel that the divine unity was insisted upon.

But what are the essentials of Godhood? The “Shorter Catechism” gives this answer: “God is a spirit, infinite, eternal, unchangeable in his power, wisdom, holiness, justice, goodness, mercy, and truth.” We reckon as essential to Godhood, self-existence, eternity both past and future, infinitude of presence and power and wisdom, absolute perfection of character. We may, I think, reverently define Deity as Self-eternal, All-pervasive, All-embracing, Infinitely Wise and Strong Love. But I sometimes feel a revulsion from thinking about or speaking of polytheism in connection with this true Godhood.

Let us now suppose that there are three distinct beings, three persons, in the common acceptance of the word, each of whom possesses this true Godhood; what would be the result? Nothing whatever like any form of polytheism that ever has existed upon the face of the earth, or any form of polytheism that has ever been imagined by men. No; there would be an infinitely deep, strong, pure, blessed fellowship; an absolute spiritual unity which as utterly transcends our thought as it does our experience. I would not claim that this is just what the Trinity is; but, if there be a Trinity, this must certainly be one essential feature thereof; and, when Unitarians accuse us of having three Gods, they seem’ to me to foist into their accusation a debased, polytheistic conception of Godhood. With a true conception of Godhood accurately adhered to, all moral, all religious, all governmental objections to three persons disappear. We may unstintedly adore and serve Father, Son, Spirit, as three, as one, and make no mistake; for whatever else of mystery might be true of the unfathomable depths of Divine Being, there would be one essential particular in which they would be most practically, most ineffably One. But the Scriptures seem to call for something deeper, more mysterious, than an absolute harmony of three absolutely perfect Beings. And it seems to me that this is a matter in regard to which certainty must be limited to what is revealed in the Scriptures.

But what is personality? One element of it is individuality; and this we possess in common with all forms of animal life. Yet animal individuality presents some curious and puzzling phenomena. Thus take the diatom: it seems as plainly and completely a distinct individual as any other animal; but it will part in the middle and become two distinct individuals, either one of which might with equal right be called the original individual. In the case, however, of reproduction by sex, we have two individual living germs coalescing to form one; while back of this lies the mystery of the relation of these two germs to their respective male and female sources. Speculation asks if this relation is not essentially the same as that of the two parts of the divided diatom to each other, except that, in the case of reproduction by sex, only a minute part of each original individual is separated from it. Hence we see that animal individuality is not so absolute a thing as it seems outwardly to be.

But the human individual has the added quality of personal character, personal responsibility. His purposes and actions are peculiarly his own; and this implies, and requires, the power of self-determination. Powder is not responsible for exploding by fire; but the person who knowingly applies the fire is responsible. This power of intelligent self-determination is what especially constitutes personality. Yet, with the human person, this power of self-determination seems subject to rigid limitations. We cannot claim for it self-origination independent of any outward stimulus. Its ordinary activity is manifested in discerning the character of the actions to which various stimuli impel it, and choosing to which impulse it will add its own personal force. But as we look more deeply into the problems pertaining to the human personality, we are met with the question, What is the original relation of the infant person to its parents? No matter how present-day science or theology may ignore the matter, there remains the terrible fact of the universality and perpetual prevalence of sin, i.e. culpable self-gratification through the choice of what is discerned to be wrong. Once when I was observing the behavior of diatoms in the laboratory of an American university, the professor who had prepared the slide for my inspection hinted that I was beholding the key to the explanation of universal depravity.

But not only in its origin does human personality present mysteries and qualifications, but also in its development, and in its interaction with other personalities. A babe stolen and reared by a wild beast will develop none of the distinguishing qualities of human personality; and men of marked personality have, when subjected to years of solitary confinement, sunk below the level of our more intelligent brutes. On the other hand, a dog living in close contact with human beings who skillfully stimulate its mental activities, will develop something which is, at the least, a quite close semblance of human personality. Then, too, we have cases where the will of one person seems merged in that of another; and this is apparently only an abnormal development of a normal influence which human persons are constantly exerting upon each other. Thus we see that human personality is not so simple a thing as it seems to be, but is subject to mysterious modifications and limitations.

But, now, our conceptions of personality are derived from our own human experiences; and when we apply these to divine personality, we must expect to find them inadequate. In Godhood, self-determination must be anterior to, and independent of, outward impulses. Since Godhood is self-existent, Godhood must, from an inward self-propulsion, originate all external things; for of him, and through him, and to him are all things. But, so long as there is nothing of this absolute self-propulsion in our own experience, how can it be justly apprehended by our minds? Personality in its highest form cannot be possessed by finite creatures; it can exist only in the Infinite Creator. Yet, on the other hand, the interaction of person on person cannot be perfect in the human being; the potency and the receptivity are alike limited; and in sinful humanity there is impotence and slavery, aggression and resistance, tyranny and rebellion, obtuseness, stolidity, grossness, arrogance, resentment, petulance, perversity, treachery, and suspicion. Conflicting interests and combating influences dwarf it from within, and starve it from without. It is the remarkable thing about man’s personality that it grows strong and complete by being acted upon and seemingly hedged in. Just in proportion as it isolates itself, it immolates itself; and in proportion as it opens itself in right and wise ways to the influence of other persons it makes the most of itself. Does this paradox of the human personality have any bearing on the trinity in unity of Godhood? Might not this characteristic of the human person multiplied by infinity help us to view trinity in unity as profoundly reasonable? I answer not this question for others; but, for myself, the answer is. Yes. Yet I do not find in this any explanation of the mystery of the Trinity.

Missionaries are greatly hindered in their work by the inadequacy of polytheistic language to express monotheistic truth. But so also, when we in turn seek to look into the deeper things of the Godhood, we find our own language failing us. It was formed originally to express human characteristics, human experiences; and often it can do no more than symbolize those unspeakable words heard by Paul which it is not lawful for a man to utter. And so our word “person “can only symbolize very imperfectly the truth in regard to the hypostases of the Trinity. It expresses at once too much and too little; it might be roughly compared to a square peg in a round hole, at once too large and too small. The use of the word “hypostasis” cannot solve this difficulty. Its chief value seems to me to lie in this, that by the use of “hypostasis” we can rid ourselves of the clear-cut, human limitations of our English every-day word “person.” But even in this case do we not need to beware, lest, in rooting up the tares, we root up the wheat also, and make of the Trinity a less real and radical thing than Revelation has disclosed to our view?

But what have we in human experience that can constitute an adequate type of such a fellowship as that of three divine persons? the self-communion of human nous, logos, and pneuma? Look at the part played by memory in human self-contemplation. Imagine to yourself a man totally without memory; he would only be conscious from moment to moment of what each moment befell him. The experiences of a second ago would be as totally lost as those of earliest infancy; and there could be no speech, no reflection, no comparison, no reasoning, no introspection. The introspected self is just our past self conjoined in memory to our present self.

Is it the union of body, soul, and spirit? These are in their union and interaction a deep mystery; and in some ways this union helps toward an acceptance of the Trinity. But how often the body fails to meet the demands of the spirit, or becomes a drag upon it, even a torture to it; and how often the spirit tyrannizes over and abuses the body! Besides all this, neither the nous-logos-and-pneuma triad nor the body-soul-and-spirit triad gives us tripersonality.

This we do have in the human family, and we also have a peculiar unity through the husband and wife’s becoming one flesh in the person of their child. The unique bond of conjugal love is wonderfully reinforced by their love for the reproduction of themselves in their child. But how seldom, alas, is this ideal realized in daily life; and, even in the few cases where the ideal seems to be attained, how utterly it falls short of the ineffable fellowship of three infinite and infinitely loving Divine Persons!

If now we turn to the Scriptures to learn what is therein revealed, we find even in the Old Testament, that, along with its insistence on the divine unity, there are intimations of something more than this. We find that there was a purpose in its stern insistence on the unity and holiness of Godhood, but that this was only one side of the subject. It was, however, for the time being, the all-important side to enforce, because of the wicked infatuation of men for unholy polytheism. And, in passing, I would say, that, while I by no means despise the Higher Criticism, but follow its work with interest, and hope for much good from it, I do abhor all attempts to undermine the authority of the Bible as a truthful record of God’s direct, personal, special revelation of himself to men in pursuance of his plan for salvation for sinners through his Son, Jesus Christ; and the polychrome Bible seems to me to be pretty nearly a reductio ad absurdum of materialistic Higher Criticism.

In the opening chapters of Genesis we find the expressions “Let us make,” “in our own image,” “man is become as one of us.” If these expressions stood alone, they might easily be dismissed as figures of speech; but in the very first verse of Genesis we meet with that mysterious expression “the Spirit of Elohim.” This phrase runs through the whole Old Testament, used interchangeably with the “Spirit of Jehovah.” But we find one marked difference between the Old Testament and the New Testament usage in regard to the Spirit, which is this, that in the Old Testament the word “Spirit” or “Holy Spirit” is never used independently, but is always associated directly or indirectly with a divine name. We have “Spirit of Elohim,” “Spirit of Jehovah,” “my Spirit,” etc., but not simply “Spirit” or “Holy Spirit.” But in the New Testament there is a marked change; the term “Spirit of God” is used but a few times. The Spirit comes to us from the Father and the Son, but with a few striking exceptions is simply designated as the Spirit or the Holy Spirit. The changed circumstances fully explain this changed usage. In the Old Testament the man of God, the prophet of Jehovah, was enforcing the claims of the one holy Lord, and against the usurpations of gods many and lords many with all sorts of corrupt and corrupting cults. But with the Jews this thing had been fought to a finish before the coming of Christ. After his coming the great task was to set forth the salvation which he had wrought out for sinners; and this involved the revelation of the tripersonality, with the respective share of Father, Word, and Spirit in saving men from sin.

Some have looked upon the Spirit of Jehovah or of Elohim as an impersonal influence emanating from the Divine Being. But is not spirit essentially personal? and are not spirit and personality as mutually inseparable as matter and ponderability? Would it not be just as warrantable to speak of imponderable matter as of impersonal spirit? But the New Testament really leaves no room for doubt as to the personality of the Spirit. The word “Paraclete,” and Christ’s promise of the Spirit to take his place as a personal leader, and the use of such language by the Spirit as “Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them,” settle the question of personality.

The fact that the New Testament records no worship of, or prayer to, the Holy Spirit, is fully explained by the fact, that the office of the Spirit is that of a Paraclete, permanently taking that place with all believers which Christ during his humiliation filled for a chosen few. This Paraclete is with us, not to be worshipped, but to help us worship; not to be prayed to, but to help us pray. Hence we pray, not to, but in the Spirit. Christ came not to be ministered to, but to minister; not to seek his own glory, but the glory of him that sent him; and hence, while he did not refuse worship when it was offered, he, on the other hand, never required it; and the model prayer which he taught his disciples at their request was addressed solely to the Father. But just before his crucifixion he said to them, Hitherto ye have asked nothing in my name; ask and receive, that your joy may be full. So now the Spirit is not on the throne with the Father and the Son, but down on the footstool with us; not as our Sovereign, but as our Paraclete; and as the Son glorified the Father, so now the Spirit glorifies the Son. In the benediction we have the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit. John, being in the Spirit on the Lord’s day, saw God on the throne, and the Lamb in the midst of the throne, but before the throne a symbol of the Spirit sent forth into all the earth; and at the close of the Apocalypse the Spirit and the Bride unite in the invitation into the Holy City radiant with the glory of God and the Lamb.

But in the Old Testament we have another mysterious person,—the Angel (of) Jehovah, the Angel of his Presence, the Captain of the Host of Jehovah. Thus at the burning bush the Angel speaks in the First person as Jehovah; and when three men eat with Abraham, and announce the near conception and birth of Isaac, one apparently speaks as Jehovah, and also remains to converse with Abraham while the other two go onward to Sodom. In Ps. 45:6-7, we have the mysterious passage “Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: . . . . God, thy God, hath anointed thee,” and there are even stronger expressions in Isaiah. Again, the use of anthropomorphic language is with few exceptions restricted to the name Jehovah. Outside of Ezra, Nehemiah, Job, Ecclesiastes, and Daniel, which represent foreign usage, or the influence of foreign usage, such expressions as “mouth of God,” “hand of God.” etc., are exceedingly rare, while “hand of Jehovah,” “mouth of Jehovah,” etc., are in common use. Also the strikingly anthropomorphic passages are prevalently connected with the name Jehovah. But there is now and then a Psalm which conforms to the usage of Job and Ezra.

With nothing but the Old Testament before us we might not see in all this anything which hinted at pluri-personality in the Godhood; but with New Testament history to illuminate and fulfill the enigmas of the Old Testament, the case is very different. The Trinity was there in the Old Testament, and, though it was kept in the background, it was not suppressed. In the Old Testament the name Jehovah represented a closer contact of Godhood with manhood than did Elohim. It anticipates the human birth, and prepares the devout mind to welcome it.

But it was when the Word became flesh that the tripersonality of Godhood was clearly manifested. The three narrative Gospels give us the outward facts of the birth and the human life of the Word; but the fourth, the truth Gospel, goes back of these to the causative source of these facts. The author has a passion for truth; he employs the words “truth,” “true,” “truly” far more frequently than does any other New Testament writer; and the same is true of his employment of the words “lie,” “liar,” etc. But with him truth is not merely an accurate statement of fact or record of phenomena, though he abounds in minute touches of accuracy; with him truth is what lies back of, and is causative of, phenomena. He is a true scientist; only with him the scientific spirit is centered on one supreme datum, one matchless phenomenon, the Word become flesh. To him, the closer companion of Christ, it was given to look deeper into this phenomenon, and see somewhat of that which was involved in Matthew’s Immanuel and Luke’s Son of God.

To a Greek mythologist, with his low conception of deity, the birth of a demigod was little more of a mystery than the birth of a mule. So, again, parthenogenesis is a well-known fact in apiculture; and it would seemingly have been the simplest of miracles had Divine Power produced a like result in a human virgin; but her son would have been only human, not even a demigod, nor necessarily superior to other men of woman born. There would have been no incarnation, and still less any approach to that matchless event, the Word, eternally God and with God, become flesh.

A mere incarnation of Deity would simply swamp humanity, like an ocean tide overflowing a drop of fresh water. A few years ago a writer in the Bibliotheca Sacra contended with much force that human nature is so akin to Godhood that God would become man in the person of Christ; but, in order to this, the Divine must submit itself to the limitations of the human. This is what is revealed to us as that which was done. The Word became flesh; who, being in the form of God, emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men. It was thus that a Being possessed of Godhood became human. The enigma is solved by being transformed into a sublime mystery hidden in the unfathomable depths of the Divine Being, the source of all being.

But if we view the Trinity simply as three beings, each possessed of full Godhood, then the act of the Word, or Second Person, in becoming flesh, would seem to be simply his own act, with no apparent need for the Spirit to act in the matter, nor any special occasion for calling Christ the Son of God. Or, if there were reasons, not apparent to us, why the Spirit needed to work together with the Word in consummating the mysterious change of “form”; still, how could this furnish any occasion for the Christ to especially designate the First Person of the Trinity as Father? Apparently there must be something in the Trinity which unites the Three otherwise than by infinite sympathy and fellowship, and something in their mutual relations toward each other which constitutes a ground for regarding the First Person as in some real way the First, and the Word as in some way fitly designated by this particular term, and the Spirit as in some way fitly called the Spirit. We may look askance at the terms “eternal generation” and “eternal procession,” as resting on scant foundations in Revelation, and applying to mysteries which transcend the proper limits of human speculation, and are not to be known except through revelation. Still, it is not strange that the old theologians, possessing no certain guide or test as to the proper limits of human theorizing, should have come to such conclusions as these. In the past history of scientific investigations pertaining to the material universe, bold hypotheses have been advanced and held tentatively by scientists with less occasion than theologians and for advancing the hypotheses of the eternal generation and the eternal procession. Yet to me personally they do not express anything specially clear or substantially helpful in my thinking about the Trinity.

We must be content to say there is a mystery here. I doubt not that, if we could see into the ultimate nature of being, if we could get at the very heart and core of the Eternal Fitness of Being, the Trinity would be seen to be the absolutely fit and rational thing. But now it seems to many a deep thinker not merely a mystery, but a contradiction of the unity of God. But as the years pass on, and science searches deeper and deeper into the constitution of things, many things that once seemed absolute and final are found to be only relative and transitional. A native of South Africa said, “I have ceased to be surprised at anything a white man does. If he were to take off his head, carry it under his arm a while, and then stick it on again, I would not be surprised.” He had seen white men doing as a matter of course things which to him seemed as impossible as to take oft and put on one’s head as one would his hat. Mutatis mutandis, we might say the same of the way in which scientific discovery has upset many of our preconceived notions.

Take our notion of matter. It is the one tangible, solid reality of the universe, and dead as dead can be. Physical science, proceeding on this theory, has resolved it into elements, and into molecules and atoms; and twenty-five years ago Sir William Thomson, now Lord Kelvin, thought he had measured approximately the size of the various ultimate atoms; but now he says that they may be a thousand times smaller than he then estimated. But Lotze comes forward and surmises that these atoms are living things, which find enjoyment in their atomic activities. He also argues with much force that these atoms have neither length, breadth, nor thickness; for, it they nave these dimensions, why can they not be redivided, and still redivided, ad infinitum? He further argues, as other profound thinkers have also argued, that the properties of matter are all there is of matter; that matter is, in fact, but a collection of forces, and the atoms are simply the points whence these forces radiate. (Yet ancient Zeno argued that there was no such thing as motion.) Others, however, would make matter to be constituted of force and ether, each atom being a vortex in the ether. But what, pray, is this ether, which is neither spirit, force, nor matter? It is a most inscrutable mystery, which upsets all our preconceived notions as to what this universe is constituted of; or, leaving out of consideration the ether, if matter is simply a form, or forms, of force, how can mere force be centered at blank points with such fixedness; and how can there be such variety of forms of force? Our common conception of force is that of something which moves matter.

Yet, again, the action of matter on matter is the commonest thing in our experience; while we view the action of mind on matter, and of matter on mind, as a mystery. But Lotze demonstrates that the real mystery is how anything can act on other things which are separated from it in space; and he even seems to regard the action of mind on things as the lesser mystery, which again would be quite contrary to our preconceived notions.

Science has in a sense explained many things; yet in truth it has explained nothing. Once such things as winds and tides, times and seasons, weight and motion, and the revolutions of the heavenly bodies were all seen only as isolated phenomena, with no reason for being, and no connection with the universal mass of phenomena nor with each other. But now they are all seen to be the rational and orderly products of one force, gravitation, interacting with inertia. But what is gravitation? Science has merely resolved a number of disconnected and grotesque enigmas into one sublime and most beautiful mystery. Inertia, impenetrability, indestructibility, constitute one mysterious triad; gravitation, cohesion, chemical affinity, constitute another; and light, heat, electricity, still another. It is a mystery heaped on mystery.

It is true that our knowledge of matter is limited to a knowledge of its properties. The forces resident in matter act upon our “five senses,” and the resulting effects yield to us the sum total of what we know about matter. Yet we usually think of matter as something distinct from, and additional to, its properties, even as we seem to ourselves to be something more than the sum of all our faculties. But unless we admit that this estimate of ourselves as being more than the sum of our faculties is a true intuition, then we know spirit, also, only by its properties. But if matter is only force, how about spirit? Suppose now we assume that the properties of matter are all there is to matter, and the properties of spirit constitute the sum total of spirit, and that there is neither a material substans in which the material potencies adhere, nor a spiritual substans in which the spiritual potencies adhere; then the next step would be to ask if the attributes or divine potencies of Godhood do not constitute the totality of Deity, with no divine substans in which these potencies adhere. But I think that no one would dare to either affirm or deny this, or hope to ever prove or disprove it. If, however, we reverently postulate this as an hypothesis; then, I think, it would be fair to ask this question, If we could truly and fully know and appreciate what infinite mutual love would be to three infinitely loving and sympathetic Beings, might we not find in this a complete and satisfactory explanation of everything which the Scriptures reveal in regard to the trinity and the unity of God?

But whatever discoveries Science may make as to the mysteries of the material cosmos, and of the relation of these mysteries to each other; and however she may succeed in resolving the various cosmic forces into simpler, more central activities,—she will only push back the mystery, which, as it grows simpler, will ever grow deeper and grander, till at last Science, with veiled face and bated breath, shall whisper, God, and, plucking off her way-worn sandals, worship the I am. But in that presence she will dare not hint at abating in the least the terrible guilt of sin; for sin is transgression of law. Neither will she postulate the least weakness nor wavering of the divine rectitudes which would mete out to each sinner exactly what he deserves; for that immutability of law which is the corner-stone of Science is but the visible type of God’s eternal truth. But she will turn with deeper adoration to that mystery of mysteries, the Word made flesh, through which Divine Grace does give repentance and forgiveness of sin to the ill-deserving; and she will join with the Church of the Living God in her psalm of the ages,—

“Glory be to the Father,
And to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning,
Is now and ever shall be,
World without end.
Amen.”