Neander, in his Life of Jesus,(51) handles the question with more delicacy of touch, rather in the style of Schleiermacher. “Christ’s miracles,” he explains, “are to be understood as an influencing of nature, human or material.” He does not, however, give so much prominence as Schleiermacher had done to the difficulty involved in the supposition of an influence exercised upon material nature. He repeats Schleiermacher’s assertions, but without the imposing dialectic which in Schleiermacher’s hands almost commands assent. In regard to the miracle at Cana he remarks: “We cannot indeed form any clear conception of an effect brought about by the introduction of a higher creative principle into the natural order, since we have no experience on which to base such a conception, but we are by no means compelled to take this extreme view as to what happened; we may quite well suppose that Christ by an immediate influence upon the water communicated to it a higher potency which enabled it to produce the effects of strong wine.” In the case of all the miracles he makes a point of seeking not only the explanation, but the higher symbolical significance. The miracle of the fig‐tree—which is _sui generis_—has only this symbolical significance, seeing that it is not beneficent and creative but destructive. “It can only be thought of as a vivid illustration of a prediction of the Divine judgment, after the manner of the symbolic actions of the Old Testament prophets.” With reference to the ascension and the resurrection he writes: “Even though we can form no clear idea of the exact way in which the exaltation of Christ from the earth took place—and indeed there is much that is obscure in regard to the earthly life of Christ after His resurrection—yet, in its place in the organic unity of the Christian faith, it is as certain as the resurrection, which apart from it cannot be recognised in its true significance.” That extract is typical of Neander’s Life of Jesus, which in its time was hailed as a great achievement, calculated to provide a learned refutation of Strauss’s criticism, and of which a seventh edition appeared as late as 1872. The real piety of heart with which it is imbued cannot conceal the fact that it is a patchwork of unsatisfactory compromises. It is the child of despair, and has perplexity for godfather. One cannot read it without pain.