As the Reformed churches became established in power, each one developed its own formalism, different from, but no more in consonance with, Jesus' simple religion, than that of the Catholics. As dogmatic theologians, Luther, Calvin, Knox and Jonathan Edwards were little improvement over Loyola, Augustine and Justin. Predestination, fore-ordination, change of heart, infant damnation, eternal punishment, the Thirty-nine Articles, the Augsburg Confession, would have been as unintelligible to Jesus, and would have met as summary condemnation at His hands, as the quarrels between the homoi-ousians and the homo-ousians, which rent the Christian world in the third century after His death. But a more formidable champion had entered the lists against dogmatic theology and in favor of the creedless religion of Jesus. The invention of printing, the growth of science, the diffusion of education, and the development of a world-wide commerce were all working towards the eradication of superstition, the breaking down of national and racial and religious antipathies and prejudices, the cultivation of relations, first of business, and then of mutual regard and friendship between the peoples of different countries, the constant amelioration of the roughness, harshness and cruelty of earlier times, the encouragement of courtesy, consideration for others and charity towards all men. All these forces were making for Jesus' ideal of a common humanity, where the asperities of different religious creeds would cease to trouble, and each man might love his neighbor as himself. A tremendous victory had been won when the time came, that an Orthodox Catholic would admit that his righteous-living Protestant neighbor might inherit heaven as surely as himself. The optimist of the early years of this century might have hugged himself with complacency over the rapid progress which the Gospel of Jesus was making in moulding mankind towards a realization of His ideals. Then came the cataclysm of 1914. The leading nations of Europe--all Christian except the Turks--plunged into the bloodiest war of history, and on the most petty of pretexts--the political administration of an insignificant Balkan state. The Gospel of Jesus, as an efficient force restraining these nations from war, was as though it had never existed. In the communications between England, France, Russia and Germany, preliminary to the war and ostensibly seeking to avert war, did any one statesman urge the argument that the law of Jesus forbade this war? Not a single syllable, and, for the sufficient reason, that each one knew that it would fall on deaf ears and would be laughed at as "old women's talk." So far as the efficiency of such arguments was concerned, they might as well have been used between the Persians and Egyptians before Jesus was born.