We are now in a position to discuss the difficulty raised by Eimer and by Günther, when they point to instances where the supposed psychic force in nature has failed to achieve its end. It fails because, on its mechanical side, it sometimes encounters obstacles which on the psychic side were not provided for. The law of gravitation is a condition of life, but it will kill a man who falls over a precipice. The adaptability of protoplasm is a necessary condition of evolution, but circumstances will occur in which the adaptation means degeneracy for the organism as a whole. Eimer’s argument is good, indeed, against the mythological conception of a supreme Creator, perfect in prescience and in power, who orders the goings-on of the universe from his throne above and outside it. But we seek for no such being in natural phenomena. Perfection is no attribute of anything that operates in Time, and so far as we regard the divine life as working in Time we must regard it as becoming, not as being, perfect. Again, Eimer’s objection shows that he conceives the psychic force against which he is arguing as in itself something mechanical, a mechanized kind of vitality, which ought to achieve its end with a flawless exactitude. Of this, also, nature knows nothing. The universe is what it is precisely because the Power behind its phenomena is neither blind Chance on the one hand nor rigid determination on the other—because it is vital, progressive, and free. This power is certainly capable of making imperfect adaptations and of diverging into false side-tracks of development. That is a fact of much significance, but it is no argument against the existence of such a power—it merely reveals its character. A special study of regressive structures and of the laws and principles which lead to them would have extreme interest, both for biology and for philosophy. But it could not affect the significance of the broad fact that, in a world where the highest living being was once a particle of shapeless protoplasm, we have now Man, a being lamentably unfit, indeed, to be the last birth of Time, but uniquely great by his very consciousness of that unfitness.