These questions are only typical of the uncertainty that exists relative to this term.

Application really goes to the very heart of all teaching. Colloquially expressed, it raises the question in teaching, "What's the use?" Why should certain subject matter be presented to a class? How are class members better for having considered particular facts? In short, application involves the question, "What is the carry-over value of the lesson?"

It is impossible to dispose adequately of the matter of application in a single statement. It fairly epitomizes the whole process of teaching and therefore is so comprehensive that it calls for analysis. The ultimate purpose behind teaching, of course, as behind all life, is salvation. But salvation is not had in a day. It is not the result of a single act, nor does it grow out of particular thoughts and aspirations. Salvation is achieved as a sum total of all that we think, say, do, and are. Any lesson, therefore, that makes pupils better in thought, word, deed, or being, has had to that extent its application.

Application of a lesson involves, then, the making sure, on the part of the teacher, that the truths taught carry over into the life of the pupil and modify it for good. Someone has said that the application has been made when a pupil

as a result of the teaching done. There is a prevalent conception that application has been made in a recitation only when pupils go out from a recitation and translate the principle studied into immediate action. There are lessons where such applications can be made and, of course, they are to be commended. Particularly are they valuable in the case of young children. But surely there are other justifiable interpretations to the term application.

We need to remind ourselves that there are three distinct types of subject matter that constitute the body of our teaching material. These are, first of all, those lessons which are almost wholly intellectual. Debates are conducted by the hundreds on subjects that lead not to action but to clearer judgment. Classes study subjects by the month for the purpose of satisfying intellectual hunger. Such questions, for instance, as "Succession in the Presidency," or the "Nature of the Godhead"—questions gone into by thoroughly converted Latter-day Saints, not to bring themselves into the Church, nor to lead themselves into any other kind of action except the satisfying of their own souls as to the truth. In other words, it appears clear that there may be application on a purely intellectual level. Application upon application is made until a person builds up a structure of faith that stands upon the rock in the face of all difficulties.

A second type of lessons appeals to the emotions. They aim to make pupils feel better. They may or may not lead to immediate action. Ideally, of course, every worthy emotion aroused should find, if possible, suitable channels for expression. Pent up emotions may become positively harmful. The younger the pupils the more especially is this true. Practically every educator recognizes this fact and gives expression to it in language similar to the following quotation from Professor S.H. Clark:

"Never awaken an emotion unless, at the same time, you strive to open a channel through which the emotion may pass into the realm of elevated action. If we are studying the ideals of literature, religion, etc., with our class, we have failed in the highest duty of teaching if we have not given them the ideal, if we have not given them, by means of some suggestion, the opportunity for realizing the ideal. If there is an emotion excited in our pupils through a talk on ethics or sociology, it matters not, we fail in our duty, if we do not take an occasion at once to guide that emotion so that it may express itself in elevated action."

And yet there is a question whether this insistence upon action may not be exaggerated. Abraham Lincoln witnessed an auction sale of slaves in his younger days. He did not go out immediately and issue an emancipation proclamation, and yet there are few who can doubt that that auction sale registered an application in an ideal that persisted in the mind of Lincoln through all those years preceding our great civil war.