Law, trial, and temptation are all essential to virtue and righteousness. Here they are all supplied; supplied so far as we can see, in their best and most considerate forms. No law is given to the lower animals. No self-denial is required of them. They are incapable of virtue or righteousness, and are therefore left lawless. A child left to himself would bring his mother to shame; a man left to himself would rush headlong to destruction. But birds and beasts do best when left to themselves, or when left to the law in their own natures. Their instincts, or God's own impulses, urge them ever in the right direction, and secure to them the kind and amount of happiness they are capable of enjoying. They are incapable of virtue, so they are made incapable of vice. They cannot share the highest pleasures; they shall not be exposed therefore to the bitterest pains. Man is capable of both virtue and vice, and he must either rise to the one or sink to the other. He cannot stay midway with the lower animals. Man must be happy or miserable in a way of his own; he cannot have the portion of the brute. He must either be the happiest or the most miserable creature on earth. He must either dwell in a paradise, or writhe in a purgatory. He must either live in happy fellowship with God, or languish and die beneath his frown. And in the nature of things, the possibility of one implies liability to the other. This is man's greatness, and bliss, and glory, that he is capable of righteousness; capable of fellowship, unity, with God; and capable of progress, improvement, without limits, of life without end, and of happiness without bounds.
All this, which is the perfection of true philosophy, the sum of all true wisdom and knowledge, is presented in the most striking, astounding, and intelligible form in this second, or supplementary account of creation. Duty is defined in the clearest manner. It is enjoined in the plainest terms. The results of transgression are foretold with all fidelity. The great principle is revealed that righteousness is life and happiness, and that sin is misery and death. And man is left to his choice.
Here we have the substance, the elements, of all knowledge, of all law, of all duty, of all retribution. We have the principles of the divine government. We have the substance of all history. We have in substance, the lessons, the warnings, the counsels, the encouragements, the prophecies and revelations of all times and of all worlds. The tendency of the whole story is to make us feel that righteousness is the one great, unchanging and eternal good; and that sin, unchecked indulgence, is the one great, eternal, and unchanging curse. The spirit of the story, its drift, its aim, is holiness from first to last. The writer is moved throughout by the Holy Spirit—the Spirit of truth and righteousness—the Spirit of God. We see it, we feel it, in every part. We want no proof of the fact in the shape of miracle; the proof is in the story itself. It is not a matter of dispute; it is a matter of plain unquestionable fact. And that the story is essentially, morally, and eternally true, is proved by all the events of history, by all the facts of consciousness, and by the laws and constitution of universal nature.
And in the history of man's first sin as here given, and in the account of its effects, and in the conduct of God to the sinning pair, I find, not the monster fictions of an immoral and blasphemous theology, but the most important elements of moral, religious, and physical science. And instead of feeling tempted to ridicule the document, I am constrained to gaze on it with the highest admiration and the profoundest reverence for its amazing wisdom.
As to whether the account of the creation of the man and the woman, and the story of the forbidden fruit, and of the serpent, and of the tree of life, are to be taken literally or allegorically, I have no concern at present. My sole concern with it is that of a Christian teacher and moralist. The only question with me is: 'Is it divinely inspired? Does the writer speak as a man moved by the Holy Spirit? Is it the tendency of the story to make men lawless, recklessly self-indulgent, regardless of God and duty; or is it the tendency of the story to make men fear God and work righteousness?' And that is a question answered by the story itself. On other matters the author writes as a man of his age and country; on this, the only matter of importance, he writes as a man moved by the Spirit of God.
And what I say of the accounts of Creation, I say of the history of Cain and Abel, of Enoch and Job, of Noah and the Flood, of Abraham and Lot, of Moses and his laws, and of the Hebrews and their history, of the Psalms and Proverbs, of the Prophets and Apostles. All have one aim and tendency; all make for righteousness. The writers are all moved by one Spirit—the Spirit of holiness.
With the exception of the Book called Solomon's Song, and some other unimportant portions of the Bible, the Scriptures all bear unquestionable marks, are full from Genesis to Revelations, of proofs indubitable, that they are the products of divine inspiration; that their authors wrote as they were moved by the Holy Spirit. Whatever their rank or profession, whatever their position or education, whatever their age or country, whatever their particular views on matters of learning or science, the sacred writers all speak as men under holy, heavenly influences, and their writings, however they may differ in style, or size, or other respects, are all, "profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness: that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works."
16. I have been asked why I do not publish a refutation of my former reasonings one by one, and a full explanation and defence of my present views. I answer, my only reason for not doing this, so far as it is really desirable, is a want of time. I did something in this line in my Review. I have done a little more in my lectures on the Bible and on Faith and Science, and I hope, in time, to do more.
17. I have been asked again, why I shun discussion on the subject. I answer, I have never done so. When those who invite me to lecture wish me to allow discussion, I comply with their wishes. I agreed to a public discussion at Northampton; but the person who was to have met me drew back. Again, if any one really wishes to discuss with me, he can do so through the press. I published my views in my Review thirteen or fourteen years ago. I have published many of them since in a number of pamphlets, giving all as good an opportunity of discussing them as they can wish. And there is not the same necessity for a man who has published his views through the press, to invite discussion on the platform, as there is for a man who has not given his views through the press.
The following letter, written to a friend in Newcastle-on-Tyne, may explain my views on this point a little more fully:—