the depth of His being was unchanged. The rain from heaven
and the waters from the earthly spring mingle in one stream, but
beneath the surface the deep undercurrent of being flows on unchanged.
The monophysite in effect abandons this distinction. This is where his
psychology is most seriously at fault. He confuses person and nature.
Deep-seated and superficial states of soul are all one to him. He does
not see the duality in the being of his fellow-men; so he cannot see it
in the ideal man. This is a consequence of monophysitism which has not
attracted the attention of theologians, and which the monophysite
himself did not intend. The doctrine that rules out the human nature
of Christ rules out the divine nature also, by confusing it with the
personality. The monophysite affirms the divine nature while denying
the human. Such affirmation is purely verbal. It is completely void
of significance. The contrast between the divine and human natures is
needed to throw personality into relief. Take away the human nature,
and that contrast disappears, and with it goes the distinction between
divine person and divine nature. Then, instead of a transcendent
personality in whose portrait divine and human features are distinctly
limned, we have a blur. Where God planned a unique though intelligible
psychic harmony, we find a psychic medley.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF PERSONALITY PRODUCED BY A VIOLENT CHANGE OF OCCUPATION

This assertion is justified by an appeal to human experience. Men
become sure of their own or of other people's personality by
experiencing strong contrasts of natures in themselves or by observing
them in others. For instance, a sudden and violent change of
occupation establishes personality as a distinct entity. The civilian
turns soldier. Almost immediately all parts of his nature are
affected. He feels the development, as it were, of a second nature
within him. His faculties are transformed. He enters a new universe
of thought. His range of knowledge narrows in one direction, widens in
another. His volitional nature is altered. His will narrows in scope,
but increases in intensity. Nor does his emotional nature escape the
change. Aesthetic values are reversed. He no longer feels pleasure
and pain at the old objects. Physical desires play a much larger part
in his life, and he loses taste for intellectual pleasures. The
soldier returns to civilian life and, as it were, with his civilian