Gerald Eversley fell into the mistake of pressing details. It is the mistake of one who would contemn a hero for an error in dress. Revelation is not infallibility. Life is spontaneous, erratic; death is rigid, immaculate, complete in itself. God speaks by revelation; revelation is life. Gerald Eversley argued himself into his own predetermined conviction. He did not believe in God, therefore he did not believe in revelation. He mistook his premiss for his conclusion. He stood then in his thoughts face to face with Christ. We all stand so one day. The ages of history are as one vast columnar gallery, and at its head looms the one pathetic Divine Figure, saying to every individual soul of man, What thinkest _thou_ of Me? It is the one eternal question, ever ancient, ever new; there is no other question in the world. The life of Christ is unlike other lives. Its features are distinct and pre-eminent. All depends (though Gerald failed to see it) upon the way of looking at them. It is possible to argue from miracle to Christ. Or it is possible to argue from Christ to the miracles. Gerald reasoned that miracles could not occur; therefore Christ did not work miracles; therefore He is not the Son of God. But what means that phrase, _The Son of God_? Is it literal, sufficient truth? Is it not metaphor? and is not metaphor the sole expression of divine relations? Sonship implies two things in the human conception of it--posteriority and inferiority; but no sooner does the Creed declare Him Son of God than it declares that He is neither posterior nor inferior to His Father, and yet it calls Him Son. It denies in one clause what it asserts in another. It is self-contradictory, but it is not therefore false. Why, then, does the Christian Church make use of metaphor? Partly, perhaps, because it is natural to human language to express the spiritual in terms of the sensuous; are not conception, apprehension, religion itself, terms of the senses? But partly, too, because metaphor appeals to the emotions; its very vagueness is suggestive, stimulating, inspiring, and it is by the emotions that religion lives. To say, then, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, is not to say that that is intrinsic absolute truth. Gerald Eversley had surrendered his faith in the divine nature of Christ. But he still clung to faith in Him as the highest or archetypal man, understanding so His self-chosen title ‘the Son of Man.’ This is the confession which, it will be remembered, he tried to make once to his father. He essayed to speak of Christ as perfect man, though not divine. He forgot that, if there were a perfect man, he would be more than man. Imperfection is an attribute of humanity.