The Lord's Prayer has of late received renewed study, and fresh material has been brought together for determining its form and meaning. The problems have not been fully solved, but the discussion has reached a point at which a general survey of its present state and results is interesting and profitable.

The Nineteenth Century was ushered in with trumpet-calls to self-assertion and social freedom. A vague but long-cherished hope of the elect of humanity that the masses, each and all, might yet become persons, crystallized during the eighteenth century into a popular assertion of “equality of rights” in the body politic as “the first of rights” and essential to the process of universal individuation. Thus was born the democratic State. The Church in Christian civilization had long before recognized the independent personality of all, even of slaves and of women, in its spiritual Magna Charta, which secured to every human being the right to own his own soul and laid upon each the burden of saving it. The Protestant Reformation added to this the duty of understanding “the plan of salvation,” and hence reinforced, and in many instances initiated, the demand of the State for an intelligent electorate. Thus Church and State worked together to call into being the free, tax-supported school, and to make compulsory some minimum of formal education. The democratic State and the democratic school have worked together to create slowly legalized freedom of association for manual laborers. Labor reform organizations, springing up at once as soon as legal restrictions upon such associations were removed, have initiated the collective struggle for common industrial betterment. Of the five basic institutions of society, therefore—the family, the Church, the State, the school, and the industrial order—four are already well on their way toward thorough-going democratization. It is necessary to remind ourselves of these familiar facts in order to escape the common error of treating some one institution of society as a detached social structure, the problems concerning which are to be solved independently of other human relationship. The first, the most vital, the most intimate, and the most universal of social institutions, that of marriage and the family, has longest resisted re-adjustment to the new ethics involved in the now accepted principle of equality of human rights.

More and more there is being brought to our attention the news of a great spiritual awakening in Southwestern Asia, that home of the prophets and birthplace of religions. At first it was called Babism, and centered around the brilliant youth, Mirza Ali Mohammed, the Bab, who after six years of teaching was martyred at Tabriz, Persia, in 1850. Later, most of his followers accepted the leadership of Mirza Husain Ali, generally known today as Baha'u'llah, and following his more universal teaching called themselves Bahais. Baha'u'llah after forty years of heroic teaching in exile and imprisonment closed his earthly existence at Acca, Syria, in 1892. The present leader of the movement, Abdul Baha (Abbas Effendi), under whose guidance the Bahai gospel has spread with remarkable rapidity into many countries, has recently spent more than a year in Europe and America, making its principles known, and through his great kindness, his words of wisdom, his sweet persuasiveness, has reflected its pure spiritual light. Apparently, it is not so much an organization as a spiritual attitude, not so much a new religion as religion renewed. Its followers are found in all sorts of ecclesiastical organizations. To be a Bahai a man need not sever his previous religious affiliations; he may remain a Buddhist, or Hindoo Braman, a Parsee, a Mohammedan, or a Christian. He becomes one of the Bahai Movement when he catches the Bahai spirit.

From the days of Ignatius Loyola until now the Society of Jesus has bulked large in the imagination of the English-speaking races. The Elizabethan certainty that Jesuits were concerned in plots against the sovereign led with remorseless logic to hangings and quarterings at Tyburn. The Puritan prejudice, common especially in the seventeenth century, that the Pope was Antichrist, made his Jesuit emissaries appear dangerous and almost uncanny. The Enlightenment of the age of Voltaire saw in them a band of obscurantists of darkest dye, whose sinister influence over education and politics properly led the Bourbon courts to expel them from the chief Catholic countries of Europe, and to secure in 1773 from a hesitating Pope their utter and perpetual abolition. In the Brief of suppression the Pope himself enumerated their weaknesses and faults, and declared that these were so great as to outweigh their manifest and signal services; therefore the repudiation.

In the present essay I propose to compare certain typical religious philosophies, with a view to discovering what degree of religious hope they justify; or what, in view of the nature of reality, they make of religious ideals. Philosophy, viewing experience roundly, taking into account both the uttermost that man wants and the evidence of reality, has reached different conclusions as to the relation between the two, or as to the consequent status of religious values in the light of critical reflection. There seem to me to be four typical philosophical verdicts of this sort: first, that the ideals of religion are illusory and vain; second, that its ideals are self-sufficient, and independent of reality; third, that its ideals define, or coincide with, reality; fourth, that its ideals are progressively efficacious, or may be realized. These four philosophies of religion may conveniently be termed: disillusionism, symbolism, idealism, and progressivism.

It is a matter of common knowledge that during the last ten years the Churches of all denominations in France have been passing through a profound crisis. Such convulsions are not inevitably the death-agony of religion. Only the world's contempt or the world's forgetfulness could kill the Christian faith; but it is apt to be quickened rather than deadened by struggles for its life. Yet religion has a more subtle danger to encounter than the opposition of public authorities however violent. It is not impossible for the Church to be unconsciously seduced into imitation of her adversaries. She may come to make use of their methods. She may gradually slip downwards to the level of their spirit. So that, while prophesying among men as if she were the voice of God, her actions may be indistinguishable from those of a godless world. That is the danger. It is threatening the Church at this moment, and is more or less a menace to religion, everywhere and always.