It is not my object to make an argument in defence of the divine legation of Moses; nor is it my design to reply to the learned criticisms of those who doubt or deny his statements.  I would not run a-tilt against modern science, which may hereafter explain and accept what it now rejects.  Science—­whether physical or metaphysical—­has its great truths, and so has Revelation; the realm of each is distinct while yet their processes are incomplete:  and it is the hope and firm belief of many God-fearing scientists that the patient, reverent searching of to-day into God’s works, of matter and of mind, as it collects the myriad facts and classifies them into such orderly sequences as indicate the laws of their being, will confirm to men’s reason their faith in the revealed Word.  Certainly this is a consummation devoutly to be wished.  I am not scientist enough to judge of its probability, but it is within my province to present a few deductions which can be fairly drawn from the denial of the inspiration of the Mosaic Code.  I wish to show to what conclusions this denial logically leads.

We must remember that Moses himself most distinctly and most emphatically affirms his own divine legation; for is not almost every chapter prefaced with these remarkable words, “And the Lord spake unto Moses”?  Jehovah himself, in some incomprehensible way, amid the lightnings and the wonders of the sacred Mount, communicated His wisdom.  Now, if we disbelieve this direct and impressive affirmation made by Moses,—­that Jehovah directed him what to say to the people he was called to govern,—­why should we believe his other statements, which involve supernatural agency or influence pertaining to the early history of the race?  Where, then, is his authority?  What is it worth?  He has indeed no authority at all, except so far as his statements harmonize with our own definite knowledge, and perhaps with scientific speculations.  We then make our own reason and knowledge, not the declarations of Moses, the ultimate authority.  As a divine oracle to us, his voice is silent; ay, his august voice is drowned by the discordant and contradictory opinions that are ever blended with the speculations of the schools.  He tells us, in language of the most impressive simplicity and grandeur, that he was directly instructed and commissioned by Jehovah to communicate moral truths,—­truths, we should remember, which no one before him is known to have uttered, and truths so important that the prosperity of nations is identified with them, and will be so identified as long as men shall speculate and dream.  If we deny this testimony, then his narration of other facts, which we accept, is not to be fully credited; like other ancient histories, it may be and it may not be true,—­but there is no certainty.  However we may interpret his detailed narration of the genesis of our world and our race,—­whether as chronicle or as symbolic poem,—­its central theme and thought, the direct creative agency of Jehovah, which it was his privilege to announce, stands forth clear and unmistakable.  Yet if we deny the supernaturalism of the code, we may also deny the supernaturalism of the creation, in so far as both rest on the authority of Moses.