When one turns with these teachings of the philosophy of religion to the gospel of Jesus Christ he finds them strikingly anticipated and confirmed. Great disclosures of truth were indeed made by Jesus to the reason and high emotions stirred in those who heard him, but when we trace the way in which Jesus habitually drew men to himself nothing is more obvious than the fact that he appealed, first of all, not to their intellects or their feelings, but to their wills. What he first demanded was not theological accuracy or mystic ecstasy, but practical obedience and moral decision. "Follow me," he says, "take up thy cross and follow. He that willeth to do the will shall know the doctrine." The dedication of the will is the first step toward the religious life. It is not the whole of religion; it is perhaps not the best of religion; but it is the beginning of religion. Disclosures of truth and high moods of rapture or peace lie beyond this decision of the will; but the way to these heights lies up the steep path which obedience has to climb. The way of conscience and the vision of faith, ethics and religion, idealism and theism, are in the teachings of Jesus one continuous process which has its beginning in the appeal to the will. Our wills are ours we know not how, Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

From this conclusion concerning the nature of religion we turn to the other inquiry concerning the nature of the social movement, and with a certain sense of surprise discover an intimate, though often unsuspected, kinship of character and aim. By one of the most unfortunate of historical accidents the world-wide agitation for the transformation of industry has become associated with the philosophical materialism of a century ago. Both Marx and Lassalle were disciples of left-wing Hegelianism, and accepted its logical corollary of economic determinism. "The mode of production," said Marx in one of his most famous aphorisms, "determines the general character of the social, political, and spiritual processes of life." "Here," Engels said, "is the fundamental proposition which belongs to Marx." "Every man," in Bebel's words, "is the product of his time and the instrument of circumstance." "Christianity, the prevailing spiritual expression of the

present social order, must pass away as a better social order arrives." To this economic fatalism the will of man can be little more than helpless in the cosmic movement of events, and the individual becomes a puppet in the hands of economic destiny. The great external process unfolds itself under an absolute law from thesis to antithesis until the final synthesis of collectivism arrives and the people come to their own.

Whether a movement which began in such an antipodal relation to religious initiative can free itself from this historical tradition is as yet by no means clear. "The socialist movement," Mr. Spargo hopefully writes, "has outgrown the influence of the early Utopians, which touched even Marx and Engels. ... It is obvious that we are in the presence of a new socialism, of a quality and temper undreamed of by Marx and Engels," and to the same effect Miss Scudder insists: "It is my steady contention that those of us who read history otherwise than the Marxians have an equal right in the socialist movement." Difficult as it may be to abandon the Marxian economics and at the same time to maintain the Marxian infallibilism, it is evident that these interpreters of the spirit of socialism estimate its real character more justly than Marx himself. Nothing could be more improbable than that a great popular movement of enthusiasm, fraternity, and sacrifice could flow from no richer source of inspiration than a mechanical, automatic, or in the favorite language of the movement, "scientific" view of life. The source of momentum must obviously be sought, not so much in an interpretation of history, as in an appeal to the will. It is not a movement of fate, but a movement of feeling, not an expression of economic determinism but an expression of human determination. In short, there met in Marx two great historical influences, that of the French Revolution and that of the classic philosophy of Germany; and while Fichte and Hegel reappear in Marx's doctrine of a solidaric state, Rousseau and Fourier touch his program with vitality, humanity, and passion.

The Marxian philosophy of history might in fact be in very large part abandoned without any serious retardation of the cause which still claims his authority. The social movement, of which social democracy is one illustration, has much deeper

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and firmer foundations than the subtle materialism of two generations ago. It is the expression on the largest scale of the will to serve, the dedication of the individual to the social whole, the emergence of social morality. Nothing could be more obstructive to its progress than to identify it with a single philosophy of society, or a restricted definition of science, or an exclusive claim to orthodoxy. Precisely as the Christian church has suffered from these arbitrary definitions, so the social movement is passing through the same phase of extravagant claims to inspiration and arrogant demands for excommunication. The new social responsibility, like Christianity itself, is a much larger thing than any orthodoxy has been able to cover. It is not an economic or political phenomenon, but an ethical awakening. The characteristic feature of the present age is the emergence and quickening of a social conscience.

Here, then, meet these two expressions of the will in action-the conforming of the will to the universal order, and the transforming by the will of the social order. Must it be inferred that such operations of the will, varied as they are in their field of opportunity, are essentially hostile or even neutral to each other? Can their relation be regarded as either accidental or controversial? On the contrary, it becomes obvious that two enterprises so similar both in origin and form must be contributory, co-operative, and in certain aspects even identical, in intention and direction. Both are alike, at least, in their attitude toward the problem of life. Both propose a readjustment of the individual to the organic world of which he is a part, and both summon the will to this task of reconciliation and harmony. Both follow a path which leads from duty to insight. Both begin with the stirring of the will. One finds a new religion in the social movement; the other finds a new field for piety in the socialization of religion. Slowly perhaps, but surely, as the social movement comes to understand itself, it will perceive its essentially religious dynamic; and on the other hand, with equal susceptibility the work of religion will accept its appropriate socialization. The path which the social movement must follow if it would fulfil its own ideal is a path which naturally opens into the broader highway of a revival of faith.

If this conclusion, derived from a consideration of the nature

of religion and the nature of the social movement, is in any degree justified, it brings with it much reassurance, both for those who are concerned with religion, and for those who are advancing the cause of social regeneration. The theologians of the early church found in the condition of the world into which the new religion came, a way of divine leading, a praeparatio evangelica, for the Christian dispensation. May it not be that the social movement of the present age will open a way to the renaissance of rational religion, and may be a praeparatio evangelica of the twentieth century? The path thus followed may not be the straightest path to faith; it is certainly not the only path, but for many persons, under the conditions of the present time, it happens to be the path most clearly open; and it is not so important what way one takes, as it is that he shall start from the point where he happens to be and not stop till the end is reached. The spiritual desire of the present age takes the form of social service; and teachers of religion should be quick to recognize that this unfamiliar way may be the natural path for the religion of the time to take, and should welcome the doing of the will as the first step toward the knowing of the doctrine.

These suggestions may throw some light on a problem much considered of late by religious teachers-the supposed decline in the numbers of candidates for the ministry. It is commonly said that the call to this profession has grown unpersuasive, and that the future of religion is imperiled from lack of recruits to serve her cause; and the statistics of theological schools seem, in the main, to confirm this despondency. If, however, it be true that social science is stirred by the same motives which have been hitherto the peculiar property of the ministry, then the profession finds itself not depleted in numbers, but recruited by many new allies. When a young man, as now frequently happens, deliberates whether he shall enter the ministry or enlist in the calling of social service, he is in fact choosing, not between two vocations, but between two departments of one calling. Social service should be recognized as a religious work, precisely as religious service is recognized as a social work; and to draw a line between the two is to rob religion of its reality and social service of its sacredness.

If, then, this common origin and common tendency are recognized, the future, both of the social movement and of religion may be viewed with confidence and hope. What the social movement has most to fear is a controlling materialism, the anticipation that a change in economic method will automatically produce a change of the human heart. And, on the other hand, what religion has most to fear is a reversion to separatism, the isolation of consecration, the desocialization of piety, the satisfaction with emotional elevation or dogmatic formalism, instead of the dedication of the will to do the will of the Eternal. What the social movement, therefore, most imperatively needs is spiritualization, and what religion most needs is socialization. If the social movement be essentially a spiritual fact, then the way is open upward toward religious faith; and if religion be essentially a social fact, then the same way is open downward into human service. The socialization of religion meets the spiritualization of the social movement. The traveler by one road finds himself, as he proceeds, on the other. The Mount of Transfiguration and the healing of the boy on the plain below made, in the life of Jesus, not two conflicting incidents, but a normal and continuous experience. The vision led down to the task; the task was made possible by the vision. When, again, the same teacher cites the ancient law to describe his purpose: "Thou shalt love the Lord, thy God, with all thy heart and mind and soul, and thy neighbor as thyself," he announced, not two commandments, but one. A rational love of God utters itself in the effective service of one's afflicted neighbor. "If any man love not his neighbor whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen." An effective love of one's neighbor is the product of a rational and idealizing faith. "We walk by faith, not by sight." The spiritualization of social service is the secret of fidelity and hope. The socialization of religion is the emancipation from faithlessness and fear. The call of God to the heart is a summons to social duty; and the turning of the will to social duty is not only a call to man, but not less surely a call from God.