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« cleave the wood” may refer to the common vocation of the laborer, and wonld give the promise that Christ is ever present, even with the humblest believer. Other interpretations have been suggested, but they are more or less fanciful.

Logion 6 suggests Luke iv, 21 and parallel passages in the other evangelists. The last part reminds us of verse 23 in the same chapter of Luke: “Physician, heal thyself: whatsoever we have heard done in Capernaum, do also here in thy country.”

Logion 7 is like Matthew v. 14, with additions that seem to be borrowed from the parable of the house built upon a rock (Matt. vii. 24, 25); but, as the editors say, there is no real fusion of the passages, since there is no reference to the rock, which is the essential point of the parable.

Logion 8 is too defective to afford any clue as to its meaning.

The papyri found in the immediate vicinity of this fragment belong to the second and third centuries of our era.

This fact, with the character of the handwriting, fixes 300 A. D. as the lowest date at which the papyrns could have been written. The fact that the manuscript is a leaf from a book and not a part of a roll, together with other signs, puts the upper limit at abont 150 A. D. The discoverers are inclined to date the manuscript not long after 200 A. D., thus placing it a hundred years before our oldest manuscripts of the Gospels. The date of the composition may be earlier. “Since the papyrus itself was written not much later than the beginning of the third century, this collection of sayings must go back at least to the end of the second century. But the internal evidence points to an carlier date. The primitive cast and setting of the sayings, the absence of any consistent tendency in favor of any particular sect, the wide divergencies in the familiar sayings from the text of the Gospels, the striking character of those which are new, combine to separate the fragment from the apocryphal literature of the middle and latter half of the second century, and to refer it back to the period when the canonical Gospels had not yet reached their preëminent position.” The editors suggest that the fragment may be what it professes to be, a collection of some of our Lord's sayings, and they may embody a tradition independent of those which have taken shape in our canonical Gospels. Paul, in his address to the Ephesian elders (Acts xx. 35), gives us a saying of Christ not found in the Gospels, “It is more blessed to give than to receive”; and Luke, in his preface, and John, in his conclusion, both intimate that there were things done and said by Christ which they have not recorded. It is possible that we have here a concrete example of what was meant by the Hebrew Lcgia, which Papias, a bishop of the first half of the second century, tells us were compiled by Matthew, and the lória xu praxd, npon which Papias himself wrote a commentary, though there is no actual connection of this fragment with either.

Many interesting questions are raised by this discovery, for the solu:ion of which the data are as yet insufficient. In the words of another: “It may be that this is a stray leaf from the collection of some early Christian, such as any one might gather either for private or public use. The fact that we have here a small collection of sayings differing from any of the recorded sayings of Curist in the canonical or the apocryphal Gospels favors the supposition that the ancient collectors used considerable liberty in the selection and wording of their material. Indeed, these sayings may have fallen from the lips of early Christian teachers whose identity is now unknown. Be that as it may, the wise thing at present is to wait for further light; for he who now speaks most dogmatically concerning the Logia may soon have abundant reason for changing his opinion.”

G. F. NICOLASSEN. Southwestern Presbyterian University, Clarksville, Tenn.



DABNEY'S PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY. THE PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY ; being the Philosophy of the Feelings, of the Will,

and of the Conscience, with the Ascertainment of Particular Rights and Daties By R. L. Dabney, D. D., LL. D., Lte Professor of Systematic and Practical Theology in the Union Theological Seminary of the Presbyterian Church in Virginia. Edited by Rev. S. B. Ervin, Mexico, Mo. Published by the Crescent Book House, Mexico, Mo. 1897. Pp. 521.

The writer, in common with a host of others, hails with delight the appearance of this most interesting and wonderful book. It is the latest, ripest, and best fruit of the great author's consecrated, laborious life. For practical uses to the busy pastor Dabney's Theology will for ages be, in its line, of incomparable value. In its own sphere a like eminence is predicted of his Practical Philosophy. It will mark an epoch in moral science. It will forge its way to the forefront and claim the chief place in the class-room as a text-book, not only in the conservative South, but, also, wherever men are found who love the truth, who want to walk in its light, and desire to be guided by its coninsels. The material and mechanical parts of the work are poor, affording but a homely body for a grand soul. This, however, is not the subject that concerns us.

The volume is made up of four books. The first book, consisting of ten chapters, treats of the psychology of the feelings; the second, consisting of three chapters, treats of the will; the third, containing seven chapters, treats of the theories of the ethical sentiments ; and the fourth, containing nine chapters, treats of applied ethics.

Let it be understood, at once, that our author “ploughs with no man's heifer." While the reader who is conversant with the literature of this science will see on every page proof of elaborate reading and profound acquaintance with the great masters of the science, he will find that our author has thought for himself, and preferred to express his thoughts in words of his own choosing. As, at once, evidence of this and an introduction to the book, we quote the following, which explains itself :

“Let the word feelings stand as the universal term, including all forms of sensibility and of desire and of emotion. Let the word sensibility stand for our passive feeliogs in which the soul is simply subject and not agent. Let the word desires or appetencies staud for those opposite feelings, in which the soul acts from within outwards, by the outflow of its own spontaneity. It will be understood that we include under the term appetencies those repulsions which are really the counterparts of appetencies, and are yet equally with them the outgoings of the subjective spontaneity."

The distinction here clearly stated between sensibility and appetency has its parallel in anatomy, in the two sets of nerves; one extending from the surface of the body to the nerve-centres, to carry impressions inward, and another extending from the nerve-centres to the muscles, to carry impressions (or ex-pressions ?) outward-the sensitive nerves, and the motor nerves. This distinction pervades the entire book. It is psychologically sound and bears a conspicuous part in determin. ing many questions of ethical science. The sensibilities (passive feelings) are not discussed at any great length, because they seem to be better understood, and there is less controversy about them, or about questions arisivg out of them. What our author means by " appetencies” and dispositions out of which desires arise needs to be carefully considered. Dispositions are fixed properties of the soul, their stability giving continuity to character. As soon as a man discloses to as any depraved disposition we henceforth expect on suitable occasions that he will act as prompted by it, because we know dispositions abide the same unless they are changed by Almighty grace. It is the common sense of mankind that dispositions do not change. Yet, each disposition is the source of its own appetency; and this, iu turn, predetermines what is pleasing or repulsive to it. Such, stated as accurately as can be done in a few words, is the general foundation and starting-point of the book. In the classification of feelings the author justly criticises the distribution of some to the category of pleasure, and the rest to that of pain, as if this were a scientific distinction; whereas, it is only to state a contrast of result, so to speak, from rousing them into activity. They may be different in nature (& beautiful scene—a grand exhibition of moral courage) and give us pleasure, or different in kind and cause us pain. Yet loose and unscientific as this classification is, life is made up of pleasures and pains. Another distribution is into desires and aversions. This is the echo of the other, for we desire the pleasures and are averse to the pains. A third classification is on the ground that some are corporeal, and some are spiritual. Instinctive desires are referred to the corporeal, and rational to the spiritual. In regard to the moral faculty, our author says: “We apply the term conscience' to that power by which we judge our own affections and actions as right or wrong.” The general analysis or exhibition of how this faculty or power is brought into play is excellent. We prefer, however, a more analytic statement of this power. Conscience, in our opinion, is not technically a faculty. It is the joint product of the intellective and emotional powers. In it the mind sees and the heart feels,,concurrently and harmoniously. It is a complex exercise of the soul. We see this plainly brought out a few lines below, in this question: "Are not self-approbation and remorse far keener than the moral feelings for our neighbor's virtue or sin? They are, usually; but this is sufficiently explained by these facts: I know that I am responsible for my own virtues or vices, as I am not for my neighbor's; and the emotions of desire for my own well-being combine their force with the moral emotion." The intellective part is brought out in the words “ I know," and the emotional part is expressly mentioned. We should not have remarked on this slight divergence of views, but for the fact that psychologists so commonly treat the head and the heart, the intellect and the emotions, as if they were totally separate and madly hostile. We are aware that siu has set a man at war with himself and broken up that uniform concurrence of our whole nature in all truth, duty, and righteousness, but the destruction is not complete, and the harmonies yet left are numerous and happy, pleasing relics of ancient glory, while the discords are terrible premonitions of the chaos and wretchedness of the lost. The general view of the writer hereon does not diverge from the general position taken in this treatise. On the contrary it often snyg, “Feeling is the temperature of thought": i. e., where the feeling arises from thinking.

Just here we want to say we regard the book before us as uniquely and immensely valuable for this reason, that it founds its theoretical psychology on the human soul as it is now in its fallen estate, and not on an ideal conception of what it ought to be, and perhaps was before sin entered into it. To assert an absolute and uniform harmony between the intelligence and the feelings, or between the feelings themselves, is to contradict the plainest testimony of consciousness and the voice of God at the same time. It may be splendid theorizing, but it is not in accord with the facts. Conscience could never bear witness against us if something were not wrong, and its smitings are God's own refutation of our pretended innocence.

We hasten ou now to the examination of the second book, treating of the will. We regard our author's discussion of this subject as being as nearly perfect as anything we ever rend in the way of solidity and strength. The diction is easyfowing, graceful, and clear, while the logic is irrefragable.

The act of willing in the anthor's view is substantially the parallel of the act of conscience as held by the writer, a joint act of appetency and intellection. Where au act of body is spontaneous, unimpeded, and complete, it is the outward expression, the echo, the exact disclosure of the precedaneous act of will, and as we may gain a very full and clear idea of an unseen man from the study of his wellexecuted photograph, so mny we form a very accurate idea of the act of will, To Othely, from a study of its execution. Here, e. 9., is a happy young man pur. suing the peaceful and bouorable avocation of farming. Suddenly a call is made for soldiers to repel an invading foe. He leaves his plow in the field, bids farewell to mother, father, and all the endearing ties of home, and takes his place in the ranks of his compatriots, and soon we see his transformed, manly person leading and cheering while together they rush upon the foe. We now inquire, was there not some time a definite act of will that transformed our farmer boy into a patriotic, heroic soldier? Granting that there were thousands of other and less important acts, we limit our inqniry to the one when, as we say, he decided to abandon the life of a farmer for that of a soldier. Was that act of will as devoid of rationality as is the motion of a weather-cock ? Was it equally devoid of patriotic emotion? Was not this judgment powerfully opposed by his knowledge of the happiness of his home, the grief his course would bring to his mother and the rest, and the horrors of a soldier's life, and also by the cruelty of his calling? Was there no conflict of feelings? Was his will completely divorced from his intelligence and emotion, and was that act of will an uncaused phenomenon ? It would seem a rational impossibility for one to form an erroneous judgment on so plain a matter, ard the affirmation that the will must be undetermined absolutely by either or both reason and feeling demonstrates the great power of prejudice (itself a feeling, and not a very creditable one) in coercing the conclusions to which men will come. The man who is thus deprived of his reason and controlled by passion is nearer than any other man to being deprived of that very free agency which he abnegates bis reason to sustain, and a slave of the very mechanical impulses which he feigns to abhor-in a word, is a low order of man. But,' to return: The will of the young man, or the specific act of deciding what he should do, was the outcome of much earnest thinking and of many conflicts of "feeling,

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