I further believe that when we do not read a later metaphysics into the Bible, the Scriptures wholly support the more modern conception. In the beginning was the Logos, Word, or Wisdom. Wisdom was with God from the beginning; that is, God was always Wisdom, and not a material thing. All things were made by Wisdom, or God. Life was in God, and God's life was the light of men; and though it was shining into the darkness the darkness apprehended it not. The God who is wisdom, and not matter, was in the world, and the world was made by Him, but it knew Him not. Finally Wisdom, or God, became flesh, and tabernacled among us, and we discerned His glory, a glory as of an only-begotten with a father, full of grace and truth. The author seems to me to believe that the Personal God became incarnate, and that the one in whom He dwelt, in contrast with other men, looked like an only son of a father. Notwithstanding this glorious possibility, there is always a tendency for religion to revert to a lower type; and this tendency is particularly noticeable just now. Not being able to believe in the divinity of Jesus according to the old metaphysics, multitudes are ceasing to believe in Him as Emmanuel,--or "God with us." At a time like this, when a forward movement is the only hope of saving our great material structure from becoming another Tower of Babel, a retrograde movement is lamentable. What we especially need is a new interpretation of Jesus, followed by a finer devotion to Him, and a whole-hearted commitment of ourselves to His ever-widening program. God is becoming altogether too hazy and inarticulate, at a time when the consciousness of His holy Presence is especially needed, if we are to shape and sustain a civilization that is quadrupling itself in weight and extent by reason of the growth and application of material knowledge. Any quickening of God that is to be highly beneficial must result in His further advent into human lives and human institutions after the pattern of Jesus. That a mere God of nature is insufficient was forcibly brought home to me while I was watching a circus performer throw daggers and toss balls. The performer, placing a man against a wide board, some ten feet distant, hurled a bunch of daggers into the board on either side of the man, each time missing him by only one or two inches. Then he began tossing balls until the air seemed full of them, and not one ball fell to the ground. Having witnessed with amazement his great dexterity, these thoughts occurred to me: