That vision, however, must be controlled and enriched by the democratic experience of their fellow men; their ideal must be to reveal meanings that cannot be doubted by the normal soul, in the same way that scientific formulations cannot be doubted by the normal mind. It is here that we have a quarrel with old religion and old poetry, that the vision which it brings us is not sufficiently purged of local discolorations or intellectualistic taints. But it is not a quarrel with religion and poetry as such; this age thirsts for a revelation of the spiritual meanings of the wider world that has been opened to us, and the complex and baffling anomalies that seem to confront us. It is our imperative duty to reëmphasize the life of qualities and ideals, to turn again our gaze to that aspect of the world from which men have always drawn what gave life real worth and reinstate those spiritual things whose strength advancing knowledge has seemed to sap. There is room for a new idealism, but an idealism that sturdily keeps its grip on the real, that grapples with the new knowledge and with the irrevocable loss of much of the old poetry and many of the old values, and wrests out finer qualities and a nobler spiritual life than the world has yet seen. It is not betrayal of our integrity to believe that the desires and interests of men, their hopes and fears and creative imaginings, are as real as any atoms or formulas. Now the place of religion in this new idealism will be the same place that its essential spirit has always held in the spiritual life of men. Religion is our sense of the quality of the universe itself, the broadest, profoundest, and most constant of our intuitions. Men have always felt that, outside of the qualities of concrete things, there lay a sort of infinite quality that they could identify with the spirit of the universe, and they have called it God. To this quality men have always responded, and that response and appreciation is religion. To appreciate this cosmic quality is to be religious, and to express that appreciation is to worship. Religion is thus as much and eternally a part of life as our senses themselves; the only justification for making away with religion would be an event that would make away with our senses. The scientist must always find it difficult to explain why, if man’s mind, as all agree that it did, developed in adaptation to his environment, it should somehow have become adapted so perfectly to a spiritual world of qualities and poetic interpretation of phenomena, and not to the world of atomic motion and mechanical law which scientific philosophy assures us is the “real” world. Our minds somehow adapted themselves, not to the hard world of fact, but to a world of illusion, which had not the justification of being even practically useful or empirically true. If the real world is mechanical, we should have a right to expect the earliest thinking to be scientific, and