The writer of the epistle to the Hebrews tells us that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the proving of things not seen.”  In the authorised version, “substance” stands for “assurance,” and “evidence” for “proving.”  The question of the exact meaning of the two words, [Greek:  hypostasis] and [Greek:  elegchos] affords a fine field of discussion for the scholar and the metaphysician.  But I fancy we shall be not far from the mark if we take the writer to have had in his mind the profound psychological truth, that men constantly feel certain about things for which they strongly hope, but have no evidence, in the legal or logical sense of the word; and he calls this feeling “faith.”  I may have the most absolute faith that a friend has not committed the crime of which he is accused.  In the early days of English history, if my friend could have obtained a few more compurgators of a like robust faith, he would have been acquitted.  At the present day, if I tendered myself as a witness on that score, the judge would tell me to stand down, and the youngest barrister would smile at my simplicity.  Miserable indeed is the man who has not such faith in some of his fellow-men—­only less miserable than the man who allows himself to forget that such faith is not, strictly speaking, evidence; and when his faith is disappointed, as will happen now and again, turns Timon and blames the universe for his own blunders.  And so, if a man can find a friend, the hypostasis of all his hopes, the mirror of his ethical ideal, in the Jesus of any, or all, of the Gospels, let him live by faith in that ideal.  Who shall or can forbid him?  But let him not delude himself with the notion that his faith is evidence of the objective reality of that in which he trusts.  Such evidence is to be obtained only by the use of the methods of science, as applied to history and to literature, and it amounts at present to very little.

It appears that Mr. Gladstone some time ago asked Mr. Laing if he could draw up a short summary of the negative creed; a body of negative propositions, which have so far been adopted on the negative side as to be what the Apostles’ and other accepted creeds are on the positive; and Mr. Laing at once kindly obliged Mr. Gladstone with the desired articles—­eight of them.

If any one had preferred this request to me, I should have replied that, if he referred to agnostics, they have no creed; and, by the nature of the case, cannot have any.  Agnosticism, in fact, is not a creed, but a method, the essence of which lies in the rigorous application of a single principle.  That principle is of great antiquity; it is as old as Socrates; as old as the writer who said, “Try all things, hold fast by that which is good;” it is the foundation of the Reformation, which simply illustrated the axiom that every man should be able to give a reason for the faith that is in him; it is the great principle of Descartes; it is the fundamental axiom