And now I come to the first positively important point which I wish to make.  Never were as many men of a decidedly empiricist proclivity in existence as there are at the present day.  Our children, one may say, are almost born scientific.  But our esteem for facts has not neutralized in us all religiousness.  It is itself almost religious.  Our scientific temper is devout.  Now take a man of this type, and let him be also a philosophic amateur, unwilling to mix a hodge-podge system after the fashion of a common layman, and what does he find his situation to be, in this blessed year of our Lord 1906?  He wants facts; he wants science; but he also wants a religion.  And being an amateur and not an independent originator in philosophy he naturally looks for guidance to the experts and professionals whom he finds already in the field.  A very large number of you here present, possibly a majority of you, are amateurs of just this sort.

Now what kinds of philosophy do you find actually offered to meet your need?  You find an empirical philosophy that is not religious enough, and a religious philosophy that is not empirical enough for your purpose.  If you look to the quarter where facts are most considered you find the whole tough-minded program in operation, and the ‘conflict between science and religion’ in full blast.  Either it is that Rocky Mountain tough of a Haeckel with his materialistic monism, his ether-god and his jest at your God as a ’gaseous vertebrate’; or it is Spencer treating the world’s history as a redistribution of matter and motion solely, and bowing religion politely out at the front door:—­she may indeed continue to exist, but she must never show her face inside the temple.  For a hundred and fifty years past the progress of science has seemed to mean the enlargement of the material universe and the diminution of man’s importance.  The result is what one may call the growth of naturalistic or positivistic feeling.  Man is no law-giver to nature, he is an absorber.  She it is who stands firm; he it is who must accommodate himself.  Let him record truth, inhuman tho it be, and submit to it!  The romantic spontaneity and courage are gone, the vision is materialistic and depressing.  Ideals appear as inert by-products of physiology; what is higher is explained by what is lower and treated forever as a case of ’nothing but’—­nothing but something else of a quite inferior sort.  You get, in short, a materialistic universe, in which only the tough-minded find themselves congenially at home.

If now, on the other hand, you turn to the religious quarter for consolation, and take counsel of the tender-minded philosophies, what do you find?

Religious philosophy in our day and generation is, among us English-reading people, of two main types.  One of these is more radical and aggressive, the other has more the air of fighting a slow retreat.  By the more radical wing of religious philosophy I mean the so-called transcendental idealism of the Anglo-Hegelian school, the philosophy of such men as Green, the Cairds, Bosanquet, and Royce.  This philosophy has greatly influenced the more studious members of our protestant ministry.  It is pantheistic, and undoubtedly it has already blunted the edge of the traditional theism in protestantism at large.