knowledge and more recondite powers offered them.

Then as the world broadened and widened, as reason began to extend
its sway, the work of the priest became more beneficent, and tended
to bless and hallow rather than to blast and curse. But still the
temptation remains a terribly strong one for men of a certain type,
men who can afford to despise the more material successes of the
world, who can merge their personal ambition in ambitions for an
order and a caste, still to claim to stand between man and God, to
profess to withhold His blessings, to grasp the keys of His
mysteries, to save men from the consequences of sin. As long as
human terror exists, as long as men fear suffering and darkness and
death, they will turn to any one who can profess to give them
relief; and relief, too, will come; for the essence of courage is,
for many timid hearts, the dependence upon a stronger will. And if
a man can say, with a tranquil conviction, to a suffering and
terrified comrade, "There is no need to fear," the fear loses half
its terrors and half its sting.

Now, when religion of any kind becomes a part of the definite
social life of the world, there must of course be an order of
ministers whose business it is to preach it, and to bring it home
to the minds of men. Such men will be set apart by a solemn
initiation to their office; the more solemn the initiation is, the
more faithful they will be. The question rather is what extent of
spiritual power such ministers may claim. The essence of religious
liberty is that men should feel that there is nothing whatever that
stands between themselves and God; that they can approach God with
perfect and simple access; that they can speak to Him without
concealment of their sins, and receive from Him the comforting