Once more, when Biblical criticism has done its utmost, when every one of its established results is acknowledged to the full, there is still a problem. Grant the furthest claim of the critical analysis. Divide the Bible as you have it into innumerable shreds, painted differently. What then? You have not explained the living combination. How were these innumerable scraps brought together and endowed with this indomitable vitality? It is the same problem as is presented in Christianity. The parts, as an apologist has said, may be taken to pieces, and people may persuade themselves that without Divine interposition they can account for all the facts. "Here is something from the Jews, something from the Greeks, an element contributed by this party, another by that, a general coloring by people who held partly of both. You may take down Christianity in this way, and spread it over the centuries. But when the operation is done the living whole draws itself together again, looks you in the face, reclaims its scattered parts from every century back to the first, and reasserts itself to be a great burst of coherent life and light centring in Christ. Just as though you might take a piece of living tissue and say, here is only so much nitrogen, carbon, lime, and so forth, but the energetic peculiarities of life going on before your eyes would refute you by the palpable presence of a mystery unaccounted for." So it is with the Bible. How were these elements put together? Who breathed into the whole the breath of life so that it became a living creature, as Luther says, with eyes and hands and feet? Take the problem of the Gospels. One may say lazily that it is an insoluble problem, and one may say it wisely. In any case, how was it that these writers succeeded in drawing the picture of the Stainless? How was it that the stream was never allowed to become turbid at any moment? One act, one word, one attitude might have been condemned by all generations of the faithful. How were they kept from misunderstandings, these men who were always misunderstanding, when the story came to be written? An artist and poet of great note died some twenty years ago, and quite a number of his friends have put on record their impressions. The most intimate of these friends has refrained. He has contented himself with saying that they have all missed the true man, the heroic, the noble man. Are we not in the presence of the supernatural in dealing with a fact like this, that the sinful should understand the Sinless so perfectly as to record no thought, no deed, no word which bears upon it the mark of their human frailty? Shelley said once: "There are two Italys, one of the green earth, the transparent seas, old ruins, the warm, radiant atmosphere; the other is of the Italians, with their works and ways." There are two Bibles, the Bible cut in pieces by analysis, the Bible as we have it. The time will come when one will pass into the