in accordance with this principle, for the vast amount of force Christ has poured into the institutions and thoughts of humanity. Is this young man’s life, seemingly so insignificant and weak, the exact equivalent of all the churches, schools, colleges, arts, literature, homes, governments, sacrifice, heroism, good works, martyrdom, patience, love, and hope that have by general consent resulted from his existence in the world? If so, was he only a man? Multiply thirty-three years by poverty, toil, contempt, sorrow, and crucifixion, and you have one product. Multiply nineteen hundred years by millions of churches, schools, and homes; by millions of books, paintings, and poems; by social position, wealth, and power; by success, triumph, and conquest; by love, mercy, and truth; by a hold upon humanity unequaled, and by an influence on home and thought unrivaled, and you have another product. The question is: does one of these products seem to be the equivalent of the other? Does not the outcome surpass by an infinite degree the income? Is not the evolution out of all proportion to the involution? Has not a great deal more force risen up than seemingly subsided? Is there not much more power seemingly on this side the Cross than there was on the other? Manifestly and clearly Christ’s life and work cannot be accounted for by the principle of the correlation of forces. Mohammed’s success and disciples we can understand. He succeeded by the ordinary methods by which men succeed. He appealed to men’s love of fame, conquest, wealth, power, pleasure. He offered men, as a reward for their fealty to him, a great earthly kingdom, and such a heaven beyond the grave as would regale the senses, please the fancy, and gratify the appetites. He simply organized and applied the latent earthly forces already existing in his countrymen. His success is in line with that of Cæsar and Bonaparte. The kingdom which he proposed to establish was merely an earthly, sensual kingdom. His methods were carnal, the motives to which he appealed were sensual, and the hopes which he inspired were carnal. Christ, on the other hand, condemned men’s love of conquest, power, fame, riches, and pleasure. He made the conditions of discipleship to consist in the denial of self and in the relinquishment of all earthly hopes, gratifications, and prospects. “If you find your life in my kingdom,” said he, “you must lose it in this.” He proposed to build up a kingdom as wide as the world, and as lasting as eternity, without adopting a single method or utilizing any of the means ordinarily relied on for success. Not only did he propose a new kingdom, but to populate it with new men, motives, hopes, conceptions, and opinions. Hence, to come into his kingdom, men were to be made over. They were to die to self, to the world, to pleasure. So Christ’s work and influence in the world not only forms an exception to the principle of the correlation of forces,