“No,” said the rector, outwardly cool, but inwardly excited by the coruscation of this magnificent paraphrase of Paul’s sentence, by the extraordinary turn the conversation had taken.  “I am ashamed to own that I have not followed the development of modern philosophy.  The books I have just returned, on historical criticism,” he went on, after a moment’s hesitation, “infer what my attitude has been toward modern thought.  We were made acquainted with historical criticism in the theological seminary, but we were also taught to discount it.  I have discounted it, refrained from reading it,—­until now.  And yet I have heard it discussed in conferences, glanced over articles in the reviews.  I had, you see, closed the door of my mind.  I was in a state where arguments make no impression.”

The librarian made a gesture of sympathetic assent, which was also a tribute to the clergyman’s frankness.

“You will perhaps wonder how I could have lived these years in an atmosphere of modern thought and have remained uninfluenced.  Well, I have recently been wondering—­myself.”  Hodder smiled.  “The name of Royce is by no means unfamiliar to me, and he taught at Harvard when I was an undergraduate.  But the prevailing philosophy of that day among the students was naturalism.  I represent a revolt from it.  At the seminary I imbibed a certain amount of religious philosophy—­but I did not continue it, as thousands of my more liberal fellow-clergymen have done.  My religion ‘worked’ during the time, at least, I remained in my first parish.  I had no interest in reconciling, for instance, the doctrine of evolution with the argument for design.  Since I have been here in this city,” he added, simply, “my days have been filled with a continued perplexity—­when I was not too busy to think.  Yes, there was an unacknowledged element of fear in my attitude, though I comforted myself with the notion that opinions, philosophical and scientific, were in a state of flux.”

“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Engel, “I comprehend.  But, from the manner in which you spoke just now, I should have inferred that you have been reading modern philosophy—­that of the last twenty years.  Ah, you have something before you, Mr. Hodder.  You will thank God, with me, for that philosophy.  It has turned the tide, set the current running the other way.  Philosophy is no longer against religion, it is with it.  And if you were to ask me to name one of the greatest religious teachers of our age, I should answer, William James.  And there is Royce, of whom I spoke,—­one of our biggest men.  The dominant philosophies of our times have grown up since Arnold wrote his ‘Literature and Dogma,’ and they are in harmony with the quickening social spirit of the age, which is a religious spirit—­a Christian spirit, I call it.  Christianity is coming to its own.  These philosophies, which are not so far apart, are the flower of the thought of the centuries, of modern science, of that most extraordinary of discoveries, modern psychology.  And they are far from excluding religion, from denying the essential of Christ’s teachings.  On the other hand, they grant that the motive-power of the world is spiritual.