while the Zend Avesta probably, and the religion in its subsequent development certainly, teaches universal restoration, and the ultimate triumph of good over evil.  Nevertheless, practically, in consequence of the greater richness and fulness of Christianity, this tendency to dualism has been neutralized by its monotheism, and evil kept subordinate; while, in the Zend religion, the evil principle assumed such proportions as to make it the formidable rival of good in the mind of the worshipper.  Here, as before, we may say that Christianity is able to do justice to all the truth involved in the doctrine of evil, avoiding any superficial optimism, and recognizing the fact that all true life must partake of the nature of a battle.

The positive side of Egyptian religion we saw to be a recognition of the divine element in nature, of that plastic, mysterious life which embodies itself in all organisms.  Of this view we find little stated explicitly in the New Testament.  But that the principles of Christianity contain it, implicitly, in an undeveloped form, appears, (1.) Because Christian monotheism differs from Jewish and Mohammedan monotheism, in recognizing God “in all things” as well as God “above all things.” (2.) Because Christian art and literature differ from classic art and literature in the romantic element, which is exactly the sense of this mysterious life in nature.  The classic artist is a [Greek:  poietes], a maker; the romantic artist is a troubadour, a finder.  The one does his work in giving form to a dead material; the other, by seeking for its hidden life. (3.) Because modern science is invention, i.e. finding.  It recognizes mysteries in nature which are to be searched into, and this search becomes a serious religious interest with all truly scientific men.  It appears to such men a profanity to doubt or question the revelations of nature, and they believe in its infallible inspiration quite as much as the dogmatist believes in the infallible inspiration of Scripture, or the churchman in the infallible inspiration of the Church.  We may, therefore, say, that the essential truth in the Egyptian system has been taken up into our modern Christian life.

And how is it, lastly, with that opposite pole of religious thought which blossomed out in “the fair humanities of old religion” in the wonderful Hellenic mind?  The gods of Greece were men.  They were not abstract ideas, concealing natural powers and laws.  They were open as sunshine, bright as noon, a fair company of men and women idealized and gracious, just a little way off, a little way up.  It was humanity projected upon the skies, divine creatures of more than mortal beauty, but thrilling with human life and human sympathies.  Has Christianity anything to offer in the place of this charming system of human gods and goddesses?