nature from that of God, while they maintain that human goodness is the same in nature with that of God, though different in degree and fulness.  There are two kinds of knowledge, but there is only one kind of justice, or mercy, or loving-kindness.  Man must be content with a semblance of a knowledge of truth; but a semblance of goodness, would be intolerable.  God really reveals Himself to man in morality and religion, and He communicates to man nothing less than “the divine love.”  But there is no such close connection on the side of reason.  The religious life of man is a divine principle, the indwelling of God in him; but there is a final and fatal defect in man’s knowledge.  The divine love’s manifestation of itself is ever incomplete, it is true, even in the best of men; but there is no defect in its nature.

As a consequence of this doctrine, few religious opinions are more common at the present day, than that it is necessary to appeal, on all the high concerns of man’s moral and religious life, from the intellect to the heart.  Where we cannot know, we may still feel; and the religious man may have, in his own feeling of the divine, a more intimate conviction of the reality of that in which he trusts, than could be produced by any intellectual process.

              “Enough to say, ’I feel
  Love’s sure effect, and, being loved, must love
  The love its cause behind,—­I can and do.’"[A]

[Footnote A:  A Piller at Sebzevar.]

Reason, in trying to scale the heights of truth, falls-back, impotent and broken, into doubt and despair; not by that way can we come to that which is best and highest.

“I found Him not in world or sun,
Or eagle’s wing, or insect’s eye;
Nor thro’ the questions men may try,
The petty cobwebs we have spun."[B]

[Footnote B:  In Memoriam.]

But there is another way to find God and to conquer doubt.

  “If e’er when faith had fall’n asleep,
    I heard a voice ‘believe no more,’
    And heard an ever-breaking-shore
  That tumbled in the Godless deep;

  “A warmth within the breast would melt
    The freezing reason’s colder part,
    And like a man in wrath the heart
  Stood up and answer’d ‘I have felt.’"[A]

[Footnote A:  In Memoriam.]

What, then, I have now to ask, is the meaning and value of this appeal to emotion?  Can love, or emotion in any of its forms, reveal truths to man which his intellect cannot discover?  If so, how?  If not, how shall we account for the general conviction of good men that it can?  We have, in a word, either to justify the appeal to the heart, by explaining how the heart may utter truths that are hidden from reason; or else to account for the illusion, by which religious emotion seems to reveal such truths.