To Paul had been revealed the full implications of the gospel; to him the freedom of the Gentiles was a matter of principle, and when principle was at stake he never kept silent. Regardless of all petty calculations about the influence that might be lost or the friendships that might be sacrificed, he spoke out boldly for Christ; he rebuked Peter openly before the assembled Church. It should always be observed, however, that it was not the principles of Peter, but his conduct, which Paul was rebuking. The incident is therefore misused when it is made to establish a fundamental disagreement between Paul and Peter. On the contrary, in the very act of condemning the practice of Peter, Paul approves his principles; he is rebuking Peter just for the concealment of his correct principles for fear of men. He and Peter, he says, were perfectly agreed about the inadequacy of the Law, and the all-sufficiency of faith in Christ; why then should Peter act in contradiction to these great convictions? The passage, Gal. ii. 11-21, therefore, far from establishing a fundamental disagreement between Peter and Paul really furnishes the strongest possible evidence for their fundamental unity. But how did Peter take the rebuke which was administered to him? There should be no real doubt about the answer to this question. Details, indeed, are uncertain; it may perhaps be doubtful when Peter acquiesced or how he expressed his acquiescence. But that he acquiesced at some time and in some manner is indicated by the whole subsequent history of the Church. A contrary conclusion has, indeed, sometimes been drawn from the silence of Paul. If Peter was convinced by Paul at Antioch, would not Paul have been sure to mention so gratifying a result? Would he not have appealed, against the contentions of the Judaizers in Galatia, to so signal a recognition of his apostolic authority? This argument ignores the true character of the passage. During the writing of Gal. ii. 11-21 Paul has altogether ceased to think of Peter. What he had said to Peter at Antioch happened to be exactly the same thing that he desired to say, at the time of the writing of the letter, to the Galatians. In reporting, not with pedantic verbal accuracy but in substance, what he had said to Peter at Antioch, he has entered upon the very heart of his gospel, which had been despised by the Judaizers in Galatia. Long before the end of the glorious passage, Gal. ii. 11-21, he has forgotten all about Peter and Barnabas and Antioch, and is thinking only about the grace of Christ and the way in which it was being made of none effect by those who would desert it for a religion of works. To expect him to descend from the heights in order to narrate the outcome of the incident at Antioch is to do woeful injustice to the character of the apostle's mind and the manner of his literary activity. Gal. ii. 11-21 forms a transition between the first main division of the Epistle, in