We begin then with a baby—a creature wholly selfish (in no bad sense), say, “self-regarding.” He is of course “in the flesh,” or “walks according to the flesh;” that is to say, he obeys every impulse of the moment, and these impulses are what we call animal impulses. He is conscious of no Law, and therefore of no error: being “without the Law” he “knows not sin.” As he grows up, he finds himself making mistakes, trespassing against Nature’s rules, playing with fire, for example: and Nature’s punishment makes him conscious of mistake, and desirous of avoiding mistake for fear of being punished; that is to say, he learns to avoid playing with fire because he has been burned for it. This is his first introduction to “the Law;” and if he obeys Nature’s Law, through fear of Nature’s punishment, or hope of Nature’s reward, so much the better for him. Hitherto, however, there is no question of sin, only of mistake. But now comes in the parental Law, saying “Do this,” “Do not do that.” Sometimes he obeys; sometimes, when “the flesh” is too strong, he disobeys. In the latter case he is punished. This new kind of Law is not a machine-like reward or punishment like that of Nature: it is connected with a Will, which is dimly felt by the child to be higher and better than his own, yet constantly opposed to his own. Here then arises a conflict between his strong animal impulses, _i.e._ “the flesh,” and a weak nascent impulse of conscience, _i.e._ “the spirit;” the former bidding him disobey the higher Will, the latter bidding him obey. Even when he disobeys, the spirit has at least the power to make him uneasy in his disobedience, and this uneasiness for the first time reveals in him the nature of sin. Until the Law of the higher Will was thus placed side by side with his own will, and until the deflections of his own will from the higher Will were thus made manifest and rebuked by conscience, the child had no notion of sin. Now he knows it: “by Law has come the knowledge of sin.”