to complete, as it
is taking hundreds of years to dissolve. For this reason it is a very
complicated structure. There is something in it for all sorts of taste.
Those who like metaphysics will find it in Paul's epistles, and in such
dogmas as that of the Trinity. Those who like a stern creed will find
it in the texts that formed the basis of Calvinism. And those who like
something milder will find it in such texts as "Love one another" and
"Father forgive them, they know not what they do."

It must be confessed, however, that the terrible aspects of Christianity
have been most in evidence. Religion had its first roots in ignorance
and terror, and it must continue to derive sustenance from them or
perish. People were never allured by the simple prospect of heaven; they
were frightened by the awful prospect of hell. Of course the two things
were always more or less mixed. The recipe was brimstone and treacle,
but the brimstone predominated, and was the more operative ingredient.

Present-day sermons tell us chiefly of God's goodness; older sermons
tell us chiefly of what is called his justice. Puritan discourses, of
the seventeenth century, were largely occupied in telling people that
most of them _would_ be damned, and explaining to them how just and
logical it was that they _should_ be damned. It was a sort of treatment
they should really be thankful for; and, instead of protesting against
it, they should take it with folded hands and grateful submission.

How many preachers have depicted the torments of the damned! How many
have described the fate of lost souls! They positively delighted in the
task, as corrupted organs of smell will sometimes delight in abominable
stenches. Even the average Christian has regarded damnation--especially
the damnation of other people--with remarkable complacency, as a part
of the established economy of the universe. But now and then a superior
spirit revolted against it instinctively. Thus we hear of Gregory the
Great, in an age when it was devoutly believed that the noblest Pagans
were all in hell, being deeply impressed with the splendid virtues of
the emperor Trajan, and begging for his release; a prayer which
(the legend says) was granted, with a caveat that it should never be
repeated. Thus, also, we hear of the great Aquinas kneeling all night
on the stone floor of his cell, passionately beseeching God to save the
Devil.

This revolt against eternal damnation has mightily incre