ers all this, one sees faintly what the ideal relation of mankind would be, if the ideal work for all men were found. This devoted scientific spirit is itself only an ideal even to-day; and all sorts of personal motives still interfere to disturb its purity. But here, at all events, one sees dimly in a concrete instance what the organization of life may yet be

come.

Now suppose a world in which men had some one end of activity that united somehow all the different strivings of our nature, æsthetic, social, theoretical. Suppose that in the pursuit of this end all the petty, selfish aims of individuals had been forgotten. Suppose that men said no longer: “I have won this good thing for myself and my friends," but only, "This good is attained," no matter by whom. Suppose that thus all life was organized in and through this activity, so that a man rose up and lay down to rest, ate and drank, exercised and amused his senses, met his fellows, talked with them, lived and planned with them, built his cities, wandered over the oceans, searched the heavens with his telescopes, toiled in his laboratories, sang his songs, wrote his poems, loved and died, all for the service of this one great work, and knew his life only as the means to serve that one end, then would the ideal of the moral insight be attained. The world of life would be as one will, working through all and in all, seeking the ends of no one individual, caring not for any stupid and meaningless "aggregate" of individual states, but getting what as insight it demands, the absolute Unity of Life. Then indeed we should have reached the ideal; and this being the ideal, all is good that helps us in the direction thereof, and all is evil that drives us in the opposing direction.

The imperfection and the relative justification in its place of benevolent hedonism are thus indicated. The moral insight being attained by all men as an experience, this insight could not will for individuals such painful experiences as would degrade the sufferers below the level of the insight itself, back to the struggles and the illusions of individualism. It would be the business of men then as now, to remove useless pain out of the world, not however for any other reason than that pain implies separation of the sufferer from the consciousness of universal life, and consequent disharmony of his will in its relation to other wills. Pain that springs from selfish disappointments we must often temporarily increase, that we may lead a man out of himself. But for the rest, the moral insight rejects pain, though only because it means disharmony of the wills that are in the world.

Thus we have completed the expression of our general ideal. We must add a few concrete precepts that this ideal has to give us concerning the conduct of our daily life. Plainly, if such a goal as this is what we aim at from afar, the acts of our lives must be influenced by it. What relation between me and my neighbor to-day does this moral law establish?

Thou and I, neighbor, have in this world no rights as individuals. We are instruments. The insight that begins in me when I find thee, must go further. I find not only thee, but also Life Universal. Inasmuch as I do anything for thee, I do it also to the life universal; but, even so, it is only because I serve the life universal that I dare serve thee. Thy happiness, however near and dear thou art to me, is but a drop in this vast ocean of life. And we must be ready to sacrifice ourselves to the Whole. But while we live together, and while we may without sin enjoy each other's presence, how shall we treat each other? As mere masses of happy or miserable states? As selves to be made separately perfect! No, that cannot be. We must live united with each other and the world. Therefore must we do our part to find work vast enough to bring us all in so far as may be into unity, without cramping the talent of any of us. Each then is to do his work, but so as to unite with the work of others. How may we accomplish this? By seeking to develop every form of life that does bring men into such oneness. Our vocation, whatever it be, must not end simply in increasing what people call the aggregate happiness of mankind, but in giving human life more interconnection, closer relationship. Therefore we' must serve as we can art, science, truth, the state, not as if these were machines for giving people pleasant feelings, but because they make men more united. When we urge or seek independence of character, we must do so only because such independence is a temporary means, whose ultimate aim is harmony and unity of all men on a higher plane. In all this we must keep before us very often the high ideal that we are trying to approach. And when we judge of a good action we must say, not that this was good because it made some one happy, but that it was good because it tended directly or remotely to realize the Universal Will.

And so, however much mere harmony may be our aim, we must be ready very often temporarily to fight with disorganizing and separating tendencies, forces, When we fight we must do so for the sake of conquering a peace in the name of the Highest. And so we must fight resolutely, fearlessly, mercilessly. For we care not how many stubbornly disorganizing spirits are crushed on the way. The One Will must conquer. But on the other side we must be very careful of every soul, and of every tendency that may, without destruction, be moulded into the service of the Universal Will. The moral insight desires that no hair fall from the head of any living creature unnecessarily. The one aim is stern to its steadfast enemies, but it is infinitely regardful of all the single aims, however they may seem wayward, that can at last find themselves subdued and yet realized in its presence, and so conformed to its will. All these rivulets of purpose, however tiny, all these strong floods of passion, however angry, it desires to gather into the surging tides of its infinite ocean, that nothing may be lost that consents to enter. Its unity is no abstraction. The One Will is not a onesided will. It desires the realization of all possible life, however rich, strong, ardent, courageous, manifold such life may be, if only this life can enter into that highest unity. All that has will is sacred to it, save in so far as any will refuses to join with the others in the song and shout of the Sons of God. Its warfare is never intolerance, its demand for submission is never tyranny, its sense of the excellence of its own unity is never arrogance; for its warfare is aimed at the intolerance of the separate selves, its yoke is the yoke of complete organic freedom, its pride is in the perfect development of all life. When we serve it, we must sternly cut off all that life in ourselves or in others that cannot ultimately conform to the universal will; but we have nothing but love for every form of sentient existence that can in any measure express this Will.

VI.

We have done for the present with the ideal, and must turn to reality. Our religious consciousness wants support for us in our poor efforts to do right. Is this real world that we have so naïvely assumed thus far, in any wise concerned to help us in realizing ideals, or to support us by any form of approval in our search for the right? We must face this problem coolly and skeptically, if we want any result. We must not fear the thunders of any angry dogmatic thinker, nor the pain that such researches must cause us if they are unsuccessful. It is something very precious that we seek, and we must run great risks, if need be, to get it.

Let us begin to define a little better what this is that we seek. By a support for moral acts in outer reality, we do not mean merely or mainly a power that will reward goodness. The moral insight cares