The fact that it does not bear to be even thought of in detail goes a long way to discredit the whole theory. A little development of the imagination here would be more effectual with the majority of men than all the logic in the world. And let us not think that imagination is some kind of a wild and exuberant offshoot of pure reason. No; it is a God-given faculty, and of a quality almost divine. As Ruskin says, "It is the greatest power of the soul." Just think for a moment that sane men and kindly men could really believe in the lurid descriptions which I have quoted! Yet this passed for orthodoxy! Is it not a marvel that men ever believed it, or tried to believe it? Only think of infinite love, infinite power, and infinite wisdom, combining to accomplish such a result! It is almost beyond belief that men of ordinary feeling, and with the Bible in their hands, ever tried to believe it. For the truth must commend itself to the heart as well as to the mind. If it does not, we ought to be on our guard. On this most serious aspect of the case, I quote from Carlyle. He says: "What the light of your mind, which is the direct inspiration of the Almighty, pronounces incredible, that, in God's name, leave uncredited; at your peril do not try believing that." It will be seen that what I have elsewhere called an "affinity for truth," Carlyle calls the "direct inspiration of the Almighty." There is no contradiction. The one phrase notes the effect of our intuition; the other recognizes its origin. At all events, this mental and moral repugnance to the theory is a strong indication that it is not true. On this most serious aspect of the case, let us pause for a moment longer. The more our mind dwells on it the more pronounced is our conviction that it is not true. Just think of one soul being consigned to everlasting torment. Through ages and ages interminable, to be succeeded by other ages forever and ever, the agony is prolonged, with the absolute certainty that forever and ever there will be no release or mitigation. Would not the very thought of such a fate drive us insane? Surely it would; yes, though the supposed criminal had committed the most atrocious crimes, and though he had done us the worst conceivable wrong. But here we are, giving our minds to business, our hearts to pleasure, and our nights to sleep, yet all the while professing to believe that one of our fellow creatures, perhaps one whom we have known, it may be one whom we have loved, is in everlasting torment. Yet if a stranger was confined in a burning house, we would make the most frantic efforts to relieve him; and if we failed, the very memory of his fate would be painful to us all our days.