oked at closely, it is the identification of order with reason.

The third and final postulate of the religious sentiment is that

III. All intelligence is one in kind.

Religion demands that there be a truth which is absolutely true, and
that there be a goodness which is universally and eternally good. Each
system claims the possession, and generally the exclusive possession,
of this goodness and truth. They are right in maintaining these views,
for unless such is the case, unless there is an absolute truth,
cognizable to man, yet not transcended by any divine intelligence, all
possible religion becomes mere child's play, and its professed
interpretation of mysteries but trickery.

The Grecian sophists used to meet the demonstrations of the
mathematicians and philosophers by conceding that they did indeed set
forth the truth, so far as man's intelligence goes, but that to the
intelligence of other beings--a bat or an angel, for example--they might
not hold good at all; that there is a different truth for different
intelligences; that the intelligence makes the truth; and that as for
the absolutely true, true to every intelligence, there is no such thing.
They acknowledged that a simple syllogism, constructed on these
premises, made their own assertions partake of the doubtful character
that was by them ascribed to other human knowledge. But this they
gracefully accepted as the inevitable conclusion of reasoning. Their
position is defended to-day by the advocates of "positivism," who
maintain the relativity of all truth.

But such a conclusion is wholly incompatible with the religious mind. It
must assume that there are some common truths, true infinitely, and
therefore, that in all intelligence there is an essential unity of kind.
"This postulation," says a close thinker, "is the very foundation and
essence of religion. Destroy it, and you destroy the very possibility of
religion."[97-1]

Clear as this would seem to be to any reflective mind, yet, strange to
say, it is to-day the current fashion for religious teachers to deny it.
Scared by a phantasm of their own creation, they have deserted the only
position in which it is possible to defend religion at all. Afraid of
the accusation that they make God like man, they have removed Him
beyond the pale of all intelligence, and logically, therefore,
annihilated every conception of Him.

Teachers and preachers do not tire of telling their followers that God
is incom