of the judges of Israel, of the men to whom the inspiration of God came, that they are divine.  “Why, then,” He says, “do you accuse Me of blasphemy because I claim divinity?” It is impossible to consider this a mere play upon the word; that Christ uses the word God in one sense in one paragraph and in another sense in the paragraph immediately following.  It is impossible to conceive that this is a kind of sacred pun.  No, no; the argument is clear and unmistakable.  According to your Old Testament scripture, He says, the men in whom and to whom and through whom the power and grace of God are manifested are themselves the partakers of the divine nature.  If that is so, if the men of the olden times, patriarchs and prophets, through whom the divine nature was manifested—­if they are divine, do not accuse me of blasphemy because I claim for Myself divinity.  If in this message, on the one hand, Christ claims kinship with God, on the other He lifts the whole of humanity up with Him and makes the claim for them.  The religion of the Old Testament and the New Testament, the religion of Christianity and of Judaism, is a religion of faith in God.  But it is not less truly a religion of faith in man, and of faith in man because man is a child of God.  And the one faith would be utterly useless without the other.  For faith in God is effective because it is accompanied with faith in man as the child of God.

And in this faith in man is the inspiration of all human progress. Faith in man, I say.  Faith sees something which the eye does not see.  Faith sees something which the reason does not perceive.  Faith is not irrational, but it perceives a transcendent truth, over beyond that which the sense perceives.  Faith is always intermixed with hope and with a great expectation, either with a hope because it sees something which is not yet but will be, or else with a hope because it sees something which is not yet seen but will be seen.  Faith in a man is not a belief that man is to-day a great, noble character, but it is a perception in man of dormant possibilities of greatness and nobility which time and God will develop.  It is only the man who has faith in man who can really interpret man.  It is faith in man that gives us all true human insight.  The difference between a photograph and a portrait is this:  the photograph gives the outward feature, and stops there; and most of us, when we stand in a photograph saloon to have our picture taken, hide our soul away.  The artist sees the soul behind the man, knows him, understands something of his nature, and paints the soul that looks out through the eyes.  He sees in the man something which the sun does not exhibit, and makes that something shine on the canvas.  The artist in literature sees an ideal humanity, and interprets it.  Realism in literature does not portray the real man.  Anthony Trollope pictures the Englishman as he is to-day, and society as any man may take it with a kodak; but Dickens gives Toby Veck and Tiny