“GROWTH in Holiness toward Perfection, or Progressive Sanctification,’’ has been set down as the general title of this book. Under this comprehensive heading an effort will be made to harmonize, as has not been hitherto done, the essential elements of Methodist doctrine, the universal facts of Christian experience, the latest results of modern philosophy, and the clear teachings of Scripture. We propose to examine the highest privileges of Christian attainment and the deepest rules of Christian obligation. We shall discuss principles, we shall evolve precepts, we shall proffer counsels. It will be our aim to consider frankly and fundamentally all the important phases of this subject, which so closely concerns both the general Church and the individual believer. And it is our hope that, when the survey is ended, the intelligent reader, who has carefully followed the argument throughout will feel that he has a better grasp of the theme than heretofore and is, also, more fully fitted to make rapid progress in spiritual things.

It will be seen from the previous chapter that we regard it as a primary part of our work, absolutely essential to any clear comprehension of the matter under treatment, to strip of ambiguity the leading terms involved in the discussion and to institute a pretty radical departure in the nomenclature of the subject. We have long held that if this could only be effectually done very little of difficulty would remain, and that until this was done no amount of words would afford much profit. Evidently, then, the first thing on hand is to grapple with the fundamental subject of sin; for here, most of all, has uncertainty of meaning prevailed, and here, first of all, must reform begin. The nature of the disease must be thoroughly looked into before the cure can most profitably be taken up.

Nearly all writers use ‘‘sin’’ in a variety of senses; and, as they cannot or do not stop to give notice when they pass from one meaning to another, the confusion is very great and the appearances of contradiction are abundant. Sometimes, they mean the deliberate doing of what is known to be wrong. And with this idea in mind they assert strongly that no Christian, while remaining a Christian, can possibly commit sin; which is, of course, a truism, of the same character as the statements that no honest man steals, no truthful man lies. Sometimes, the thought behind the word is not a deliberate, open-eyed violation of right or neglect of plain duty, but a more or less voluntary transgression of a more or less dimly apprehended law. Still again, the meaning may be simply an infraction of the divine law or a coming short of its full perfection, without reference to knowledge on our part or power to do differently. Or, yet again, the word may be employed to designate a state or condition of soul, in this sense indicating dissimilarity of nature from God’s nature, as when we are said to be born in sin or possessed by sin.

It must be clear to all that the implications and associations of these various meanings are such as to make them, to all intents and purposes, different words; but, being spelled in the same way, because of this identity of dress they pass themselves off as the same person, and the complications that follow are very bewildering. The trouble would be somewhat mitigated if, in connection with the generic word “‘sin,” a qualifying adjective was always employed to indicate in which of these meanings it was to be understood. But no complete set of convenient adjectives has been found available, nor are those always used which might be. The inevitable tendency is to save labor by taking it for granted that the reader will understand what the writer has in mind, with the natural result that the utmost uncertainty and perplexity prevail.

Furthermore, this vagueness is sure to affect, more or less largely, the writer’s own mental processes. It is practically impossible for him who has become accustomed to use the word, now with one meaning, now with another, to keep from considerable intellectual entanglement and embarrassment. He is sure to mystify himself, as well as his readers. He will inevitably carry along with him, in his use of the word in its third or fourth meaning, affiliations which belong exclusively to the first or second. The word itself, instead of being a docile servant of his thought, has become to some degree his master, and drives him whither he would not otherwise have gone.

If we talk of some sins which are innocent and some which are guilty, some which require repentance and some which do not, some which can be committed without any sense of condemnation or any need of forgiveness and some of an opposite character, some which need atonement and some which have no such need, some which are our fault and some which are only our misfortune, some which are in no way compatible with love and some which are, some which have the participation of our will and some which do not, some which involve no violation of any law that we are under and some which do, some which are the result of inevitable ignorance and some which imply knowledge, it is easy to see that it will be entirely impossible to free the subject from continual misapprehensions and the greatest disorder. We believe there is a far better way, and that the word “sin” should be restricted to one leading sense—that sense which it everywhere has in the popular mind. And if, for any special purpose, there has to be at any time a temporary departure from this meaning it should be carefully noted, and attention called to the fact that a figurative or accommodated sense of the word is being used.

What, then, is sin, strictly so called? Sin is deviation from duty; choosing our own will, instead of the divine will; disobeying that law which is binding upon us as a rule of present action. These are slightly varying statements of the same thing, diverse in form, but practically identical in substance. They are framed to emphasize the idea that sin is always the responsible act of a free moral agent, who has sufficient opportunity for knowing what is commanded him. It is not simply the missing of a mark which it would have been well for him to hit, but the missing of it, because he did not take the pains which he might have done in rightly directing his aim, and, hence, a missing of what he ought to have hit. This definition draws a distinct line between faults and misfortunes, between what we can help and what we cannot help, between culpable sins and unavoidable infirmities. Guilt, blameworthiness, ill-desert are accounted inseparable concomitants or adjuncts of sin. Sin, and sin alone, is considered to be the subject of atonement, repentance, and forgiveness. All true sin resolves itself into selfishness, putting self in the place of God. All discerned selfishness is sin.

Can we say that all lawlessness is sin? A proper answer to this question is impossible, without a very careful examination of the subject of law. There is no topic which has given writers on Christian perfection more trouble than this, none in the proper setting forth of which they have made more manifest failures. Even John Wesley, in his Plain Account, if he does not really contradict himself, certainly gives plausible ground for such a charge. He leaves the subject in a mist and fails to supply any means for its clearing up.

There has been much debating as to whether he held that the law of God which is binding upon us is different from that which was given to Adam, or not. He seems, in some places, to say that it has been lowered in its demands and adapted to our changed circumstances; that, since we are no longer able to keep the original law, another has been given to us much easier to live up to; and, hence, that we can be sinless, that is, keep the whole law we are now under, even though at many points we break the original law. In other places, he seems to say just the contrary, holding that love fulfills the whole of the original or perfect moral law, declaring in so many words: ‘The best of men need Christ as their priest, their atonement, their advocate with the Father; not only as the continuance of their every blessing depends on his death and intercession, but on account of their coming short of the law of love. For every man living does so.” (Plain Account, p. 113.) And again: “The most perfect have continual need of the merits of Christ, even for their actual transgressions.’ (Plain Account, p. 64.) In his sermons he uses this language: “Every part of this law must remain in force upon all mankind and in all ages, as not depending either on time or place, or any other circumstances liable to change, but on the nature of God and the nature of man and. their unchangeable relation to each other.’’ (Vol. i, p. 222.) There is certainly an ambiguity here which ought to be removed; for nothing can be more fundamental to the whole theme. Since sin is nothing more nor less than disobedience, not to some law made for superior beings or for human beings in a superior sphere, but to the law which rests with full force upon us here and now, with our present powers and capacities, there must be a settlement as to what that law is before any intelligent assertion is possible as to whether or not we are daily committing sin.

We have read very widely in Methodist authors without finding any satisfactory or conclusive setting forth of this subject. Their treatment of it, as a rule, partakes of the same hesitancy and two-sidedness that characterizes Wesley’s. With few exceptions, they see quite clearly that it will not do to declare a lowering of the claims of the original. law. The moral law is a transcript of the divine mind; and, hence, God could as easily change his own immutable nature as lower the standard of obedience. If he could lower the standard of obedience he could have released man from all obligation to keep the law and so have saved the trouble of the atonement. Moral laws are in themselves universally obligatory and quite as unalterable as the laws of nature. The perfect law under which Adam was originally placed remains in full force. Things which were wrong in his day are not right now, and things which were right then are not wrong now. The principles of rectitude are not dependent upon the divine volition in such a sense as to be liable to repeal or change. They have their subsistence in the divine nature. They are coexistent and coeternal with Deity. Any change in them implies a change in the nature of God himself.

Dr. Adam Clarke, in his sermon on “Life, the Gift of the Gospel,” says: “It would be shockingly absurd to suppose, that when man, through his own fault, sinned against his God and fell from his perfection, that God must then bring down his law to a level with his sinful imperfection, that he might not by transgression incur further penalty. The thought, seriously indulged, is blasphemy. A law thus framed could be no expression of the divine mind, could not have his sanction, and could be no rule of moral action.” (Works, vol. V; *p.200.)

Richard Watson (Institutes, vol. ii, p. 456) speaks of “that absolute obedience and service which the law of God, never bent or lowered to human weakness, demands from all.”

Dr. Pope (Higher Catechism, p. 273) says: ‘Methodist doctrine teaches. . . not the lowering of the law.”

Dr. Wilbur Fisk, in his sermon on “Salvation by Faith,” calls it “a preposterous idea that the moral law is repealed, and that the Gospel which has been substituted for it is a less rigorous rule of life, accommodated down to man’s weak and sinful nature.” And he adds: ‘Shall the law be changed? It was perfect at the first, and any change would make it imperfect. A less perfect law God could not prescribe.” (Quoted in Caldwell’s Christian Perfection, pp. 44, 100.)

Bishop Foster, in his Philosophy of Christian Experience (p. 136), says: ‘‘The regenerate soul is still held strictly under the law of righteousness. The grace which, through the atonement and by faith, has secured to it forgiveness for sins that are past does not modify or change its relations to immutable ethical law. . . . To its utmost demand the law is forever binding upon the forgiven, as much as upon the unforgiven, soul. . . . That law holds over it with unabated force.”

Bishop J.T. Peck says, in his Central Idea of Christianity (p. 178): “The law... can, hence, never be repealed or modified... . Its demands are based upon the principles of eternal and unchangeable rectitude and adapted to man, not as he is, but as he ought to be. It is the rule with which every fact of his character and of his life must be compared — not a flexible, accommodating rule, suited to his ever-changing moral condition and capacity, but a rule of exact righteousness.”

Bishop S. M. Merrill, in his Aspects of Christian Experience (p. 241), says: “There has been no repeal or modification of the law, no lowering of the claim of God, no readjustment of probational tests that implies a compromise with unrighteousness.”

All this seems undeniable. But it can only be counted a part of the truth after all; for equally strong statements that appear to take an entirely contrary view can be quoted in abundance from standard Methodist writers.

John Fletcher, in his Last Check to Antinomianism,says: ‘‘We shall not be judged by that law [of paradisiacal obedience], but by a law adapted to our present state and circumstances, a milder law, called the law of Christ. . . . Our heavenly Father never expects of us, in our debilitated state, the obedience of immortal Adam in paradise.”

Dr. George Peck (Christian Perfection, abridged, pp. 148, 151) says: “The difference between the original law of perfect purity and the law of love, as incorporated in the Gospel, is this: one is an expression of the divine will concerning beings perfectly pure, in the full possession of all their original capabilities; but the other is an expression of the divine will concerning fallen beings restored to a state of probation by the mediation of Christ. Each alike requires the exercise of all the capabilities of the subjects; but the subjects being in different circumstances and differing in the amount of their capabilities, the standard of obedience is, from the necessity of the case, varied. . . . The standard of character set up in the Gospel must be such as is practicable by man, fallen as he is. Coming up to this standard is what we call Christian perfection.”

Dr. Daniel Steele, in his Milestone Papers (pp. 20, 31, 44, 127), says: “ The Adamic law has been replaced by the evangelical requirement of love as the fulfilling of the law. ... This law is graciously adapted to our diminished moral capacity, dwarfed and crippled by original and actual sin. . . . This law [of perfect obedience given to Adam in Eden] no man on earth can keep, since sin has impaired the powers of universal humanity. ... All that I am required to do is to love God with the full measure of my present powers, crippled and dwarfed by original and actual sin.”

All this also appears sensible; for justice requires that all demands upon us should in every case be strictly corresponding to our capabilities, that obligations should not go beyond opportunities, and that duties should keep even pace with powers. We cannot be accounted blameworthy for anything which it is impossible for us to do; nor are we at fault for failing to keep a law which was adapted to the condition of beings possessing abilities utterly beyond our reach.

This apparent clashing of authorities — for there is nothing in the context of the passages above quoted to modify their force or correct their one-sidedness — shows the need of a more comprehensive and discriminating statement, that shall relieve the subject of its difficulties. “Lowering or changing the law ” is an ambiguous expression which should be avoided, for it means different things and, while true in one sense, is untrue in another. Hence, persons may range themselves on both sides of it with as much violence and as little profit as did the ancient knights with the gold and silver shield.

It is perfectly plain that mere weakness or. disability self-procured does not destroy or reduce moral obligation; for if it did the drunkard might plead his drunkenness in abrogation of all punishment for his crimes. And Satan would be under almost infinitely less obligation to love God than is Gabriel. Indeed, the further any being advances in sin the less of service would be due from him to his Maker. On the other hand, it is equally plain that the disability which has come upon a person through somebody else’s fault may righteously be urged in mitigation of the claims upon him. No government would demand of one who was a helpless cripple from birth or congenitally blind regular military service. Where much is given, much is required; where little is given, little is required.

The law is lowered, so far as regards its claims upon us personally in our present enfeeblement as compared with Adam, that enfeeblement being in part, at least, not our own fault. In other words, the conditions of salvation and the formulas of duty have most certainly been changed. Adam may, in one sense, be said to have been saved by works, in that his works — although, of course, not dissevered from faith in God, but springing from it — held a different relation to his salvation from that which works can do now. They were complete and all-sufficient, needing no such piecing out from another source as do ours. Nondeviating obedience to the perfect law was required of him, because it was possible to him; and, of course, nothing less than what was possible could be accepted. With us, this flawless obedience from the cradle to the grave is not possible; and to exact it from us as a condition of salvation would be glaring injustice. God could not have permitted the race to continue after Adam’s fall without making some adequate provision whereby the requirements of his law could still be met, and yet man be required to do only that of which he was capable. By bringing us into the world in our impaired state he made the atonement essential, if the law was to be maintained.

The law, then, by this arrangement, is maintained, and lowered in no degree, so far as regards its availability as a standard of right, by which men can measure their progress, estimate their position, and decide where they are on the scale of perfection. It continues to fulfill this function without change. It remains to stimulate, humiliate, and guide, to mark man’s declension, to deepen his sense of unworthiness, and to serve as the directing goal of his aspirations. But Christ, with whom we link ourselves by faith, now satisfies those demands of the law which are beyond our present powers, making up our deficiency, so far as that deficiency is an absolute necessity of our crippled state. And we are in this sense “free from the law,’’ that is, free from any obligation to fulfill its highest demands — demands equitable for angels and for what we may suppose man to have been in his pristine estate, but not equitable for us who inherit so much impairment.

Thus, the rule or standard of duty has for us been changed from what it was for our first parents. The standard of absolute right, the ideal standard, is the same for us as for Adam and the angels, is the same the wide universe through. In other words, there are certain acts or courses of conduct which are according to the mind of God and for the highest well-being of creation. They are such as God himself would do, and which he must of necessity be best pleased to have done by others. These actions are said to have rightness, or conformity to the ideal. And in this sense every action, no matter how small, has a moral quality, has a certain measure of conformity or disconformty to the standard of absolute right, the law of well-being, the unchanging law of God.

But whether or not a person comes into fault for failing in any point to reach this standard wholly depends on whether or not it was within his reach. The moral character of the actor is decided by his intention. The moral quality of the action is decided by its consequences. While actions are right or wrong, persons alone can be innocent or guilty, holy or sinful. This distinction is one of the utmost consequence, for if properly observed it would carry a torch through much of the darkness that has enshrouded the whole subject of Christian perfection.

There is such a thing as morally perfect conduct. Vile deeds can be done with good intentions. There are those, Christ tells us, who think that they are doing a service unto God when they are engaged in killing God’s children. God has a will, or law, or pleasure, with reference to actions as well as persons. The former is unchangeable, like any of the other laws of God or nature, like the law of gravitation or chemical affinity or mechanics, because founded in the nature of things, that is, in the nature of God. Whatever things are once right are always right, just as a substance which is heavy in the first century is heavy in the twentieth century. The principles which govern the welfare of the universe are ever the same, and in the same circumstances the same course must be taken, the same decision made. To vary from it would be to take something less good, less perfect, less in accordance with highest well-being. To satisfy the law, that is, to satisfy the ethical nature of God, his sense of what is just and right and beautiful and good, one set of actions, and only one, must be forthcoming.- But God’s will with reference to persons does change, because their circumstances change, because their ability to carry out the ideal programme becomes greatly altered. When a man’s power to do the absolute right is taken away, not through his own fault, then the demand upon him for that absolute right is also taken away. This every instinct of fair play demands.

Hence, it will readily be seen how a declaration that the law has been altered or lowered might seem a shocking blasphemy and a pre-posterous absurdity to one man, who fixed his mind on the former meaning, while to another, who had the latter meaning in his thought, the denial that the law could be lowered to meet our altered, enfeebled powers would seem blasphemous, because inconsistent with divine justice.

The law under which we now are, that is, the perfect keeping of which is incumbent upon us, is sometimes called the law of faith, as distinguished from the law of works; not to intimate that we are absolved from doing all the work we possibly can, but to show that by faith in the Saviour we present him and his works of perfect righteousness as our substitute, in place of that perfect obedience to the law which we are not able to render. For the same reason, it is called the law of Christ and the law of liberty. It is, also, sometimes called the law of love, because love with all our present powers, accompanied, of course, by those works to which love will naturally and inevitably prompt, gives us full acceptance with God. But this term is very liable to mislead, and should be used with caution. It cannot be safely or suitably put in opposition to the Adamic law, for that, too, was a law of love, in that it required from Adam that he should love God with all his powers; mere works, without love, would in no way have met the divine requirements. Love fulfills every law, in so far as it is fulfilled at all, because it furnishes the needed power or incentive for its fulfillment. It was so with Adam, just as much as it is with us. The law of faith would seem to be a less exceptionable term, in that we are saved by grace through faith, both initial and final, with no more works than such as are within the compass of our present powers and such as will inevitably flow from a living faith.

We are now in a better position, it may be hoped, than we were before this discussion, to say precisely what transgressions of law can be properly called sins. We restrict the name to transgressions of that law which is binding upon us now as a code of personal duty; for in reference to no other things can we feel remorse or beg forgiveness. A breach of the Adamic law involves no blame, because we have no power to keep it and cannot intelligibly or fitly ask pardon for what we could not possibly help. Infractions of the Adamic law are infirmities, which we regret and which we strive to make as few as possible, but which we shall never wholly rid ourselves of while in the flesh. They are inseparable from humanity in its fallen condition, inevitable concomitants of a more or less diseased body and a more or less fallible and enfeebled mind.

We regret these infirmities, these mental and physical defects leading to errors in conduct, these failures to reach the ideal standard of perfect righteousness and flawless beauty of character, because we are thus compelled to present to the eyes of our divine Friend a less pleasant sight than we would like to do and are more or less hampered in our powers of usefulness. It must be somewhat painful to God to see any of the effects of sin. He cannot look with perfect satisfaction on any of the works of the devil, any of the results of the fall. He cannot take supreme delight in a marred universe. He can be perfectly pleased only with real rectitude, in distinction from that conduct which is no more than rightly intended. A man of low mentality, small sympathy, and dense ignorance, a dolt, a dunce, a boor, an imbecile, a savage, however good his intentions, can have but little likeness to Christ and little loveliness of life or genuine usefulness. He cannot be an ideal Christian or a model of moral and spiritual development. We should not think of looking to him for a standard of behavior such as we would wish our children to imitate, nor could we ourselves take much delight in his society. Such a person may mean well. His purpose may win our cordial approval, may win praise from the divine Judge who looks at the heart; while the outcome may be very disagreeable, and the work which he meritoriously attempted may be utterly spoiled. He may be entirely innocent whose conduct, because of unavoidable deficiencies in his mental or physical make-up, is far from immaculate.

There is a real, or material, rectitude, grounded in the nature of God, which is permanent and has objective entity independent of all personal considerations. With reference to this, it may be said that right is right and wrong is wrong under all circumstances, irrespective of conditions and without reference to the varying powers of the persons who do the deeds. But there is also a rightness of form, which is entirely subjective and dependent wholly on the will or motive of the agent. If this distinction, a familiar one in ethics, be kept firmly in mind, it will readily be seen that a thing may be right so far as the actor is concerned, right for him, because of his inability to do better, but not right at all tried by God’s absolute standard—the wéll- being of the universe and the good of all. A man may be in right volitional relations who is not altogether in right ethical or rational relations. His mistakes may be condoned, because of his inevitable ignorance; but his deeds are not to be justified as having been best or anything else than mistakes. He may have done the best he knew; but his knowledge may have been so very small that great harm resulted. He may have followed his convictions of duty, sincerely thinking he was doing service acceptable to God, and thus be free from condemnation for what he did; while, at the same time, he entirely misconceived what was in the mind of God, and the absolutely right service was not done.

An act may be wrong in itself, while the person who has done it is in no way guilty, needs no forgiveness, has committed no sin. Sin is a guilty transgression of law, such a transgression as the transgressor knew he could, and, therefore, should, have avoided. Only these guilty, responsible transgressions of law can properly be called sins. Innocent or unintentional or unavoidable transgressions are not sins, but simply infirmities. What are commonly called involuntary transgressions as a matter of fact generally involve minute volitions, escaping from us because of moral weakness. If so, they are not simply infirmities, but sins, although they may be termed small and comparatively unimportant sins. To make a defect culpable it must be a coming short of the possible, not merely a coming short of the ideal.

Of course, it is one thing to make this distinction in theory, and quite another to make it correctly in practice. There is no doubt but that great multitudes are softly calling by the more pleasant name of infirmities and mistakes what are really sins. The latter is a plain, blunt word, which does not fit in well with certain much-lauded theories and high-sounding professions; but if it be the word which the facts call for, as it is not difficult to show, then in all honesty let it be used, no matter what becomes of the theories.

It is a duty to be always formally or intentionally right and to have just as much of material or absolute righteousness as possible. It is our business to come as near to the ideal each moment as may be within our power. It is a sin to fail to keep as perfectly as we might the perfect law; also, to fail to press forward with the utmost possible rapidity toward the goal of entire freedom from depravity. If, through greater concentration of purpose, more steadfast attention, keener watchfulness, and closer application of mind to the presence of God — all no doubt within the compass of our powers — we might have escaped making a certain blunder, then is that blunder more or less blameworthy, and we cannot wipe our mouths complacently and say we have not sinned for such and such a length of time. Avoidable errors in judgment, due to lack of perfect watchfulness or lack of attainable information, are sins requiring repentance and forgiveness. Ignorance must not be made a cloak for carelessness. Ignorance is often blameworthy; and the same may be said of conceit, obstinacy, and fanaticism. It is sin to live, even for a moment, below our privileges and the highest possibilities of grace in our particular case. It is a sin to have been, at any point, less useful than we might, or to have made less progress in divine things than light and opportunity warranted. It is a sin to have our tendencies toward sin, at any point or in any way, stronger than they need to be. It is sin to lose any opportunity of doing a kindly act, to omit any beneficent deed which we could have accomplished. It is sin to be actuated, in any degree, by improper motives. ‘‘Whatsoever is not of faith is sin.” “To him therefore that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.”

Hence, for the holiest to pray daily, ‘“ Lord, forgive me my trespasses,” is eminently fit, since no one but God can surely determine whether trespasses or, in other words, sins have been that day committed. Who can be sure that his peace is as deep and his love as strong all through the day as it might and should be? Who can measure the utmost capability of his spirit for love to God and man, and be sure that that capability is completely filled, be sure that there is no deficiency in the ardor or purity of his affection? Who is able to penetrate all the unseen depths and secret places of his soul? That a person is conscious of no transgressions counts for but little. No one is a proper judge in his own case. We need to be as profoundly impressed with this fact as with the other corresponding fact, that we are unfit to judge other people. Very suitably and wisely does Paul say: “I know nothing against myself; yet am I not hereby justified: but he that judgeth me is the Lord. Wherefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who will both bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and make manifest the counsels of the hearts; and then shall each man have his praise from God.” (1 Cor. iv, 4, 5, Revised Version, as always in this book.)

In the light of the truths now enunciated it will, we trust, be fully seen how unphilosophical, inaccurate, and every way objectionable is the antiquated phrase “ original sin.” It is quite time that this misbegotten and utterly misleading term, together with its partners, “birth sin’’ and “inbred sin,’ was dismissed to the museum of theological curiosities, where alone at present it belongs. Some plead for it because it is sanctioned by extensive usage and by many great names, being even incorporated in one of our articles of religion, as well as receiving countenance from some of the figurative expressions employed by that great theologian, St. Paul. But we firmly believe that when a technical term has outlived its usefulness it ought to be laid on the shelf and replaced by something better. Why, simply because of attachment to that which is old, or, in other words, moss-grown conservatism, should we hold on to that which continually and inevitably deceives? Surely our language is not so poverty-stricken as to make this a necessity.. Words should be our servants, not our masters, to be changed at will when they have ceased to do for us what they were intended or what they are bidden to do. The evil that has come from permitting this dead phrase still to walk the earth, as though alive, is unquestionably very great. We have read whole volumes of Methodist literature that were made very nearly useless because the authors plainly showed themselves ignorant of the fact that the only original sin was the sin of Adam, and that all sin consists of sinning. Whole chapters and entire arguments have been fatally flawed by the implication that there can be sin which is not the outcome of man’s own choice, and that men are guilty for that which has come upon them by no exercise of their own wills. Theology would be immensely the gainer if we never heard more of original or inbred sin.

But, of course, we must carefully retain that portion of truth which has lain behind the delusive phrase. What word will best convey that truth? There is but one which fits the case, and that seems all sufficient. We mean “depravity.” We do not understand why such numbers of theologians fight so shy of defining depravity. In most cases they decline attempting it, sometimes writing hundreds of pages on the subject without once giving a clear and formal definition. And even when appealed to, to supply the omission we have known them to refuse or evade the request. Bishop Jesse T. Peck, indeed, says, in his Central Idea of Christianity (pp. 74, 390), “This [namely, in what depravity consists] is an inquiry prohibited by the laws of our being,” and “It is not necessary, nor is it possible, to define this depravity in words.” We are quite unable to see why it should be deemed impossible. °Nor do we think there is any special difficulty in the matter, except that which arises in some cases from an unwillingness to follow out to a logical conclusion the train of thought which the word naturally suggests, lest damage should come to some pet dogma, and positions which have been accounted orthodox should be shown to be without adequate foundation.

What, then, is depravity? It may be stated in a variety of ways, all, perhaps, equally good; but we prefer the following: depravity is that abnormal or disordered condition of human nature whereby we are no longer in harmony with God or with ourselves, as we were originally made, but have so strong a leaning toward self-indulgence that we are easily brought into disobedience to the divine commands. Other elements might be introduced into the definition, but they would needlessly complicate it, and convert it, perhaps, into a descriptive disquisition. We have given all that seems to us essential. The main point is the bias or tendency to sin, not itself sin, since it involves no guilt, but taking its rise in the sin of our first parents and leading to sin, that is, making its commission unduly easy. It has close connection with sin, both in its source and in its effect; but it is no more fitting on this account to call it sin than it would be to call coal heat, because it is the result of heat in the past and produces heat in the present or future. If coal were thus denominated heat it would be readily recognized as a metaphorical or poetical use of the word and might be harmlessly indulged for a while; but if, after a season, the figure of speech began to be taken literally by many, with mischievous practical effects, common sense would dictate that the usage, however time-honored, should give way to something less injurious, and coal be called coal and heat heat. So we deem it full time that sin be called sin and depravity depravity, and that dangerous personifications and rhetorical flights of fancy on this critical theme be no longer indulged.

“Depravity ” seems to us the one word most suitable to cover all the results entailed upon human nature by the primary or original sin of our first parents in the garden of Eden. What are those results? Man, as first made in the image of his Maker, we are accustomed to idealize, perhaps somewhat too freely. No doubt, many writers have ascribed to him powers and perfections for whose existence there is no special ground. Nevertheless, we cannot be wrong in picturing him as possessing very great excellencies indeed. He came fresh from the hands of his Creator, fully equipped, physically, intellectually, and morally, for his life work, and was pronounced very good. He was not, of course, without limitations, was not infinite in knowledge nor in anything else; but he must have possessed endowments of a very high order, must have been flawless, as well as innocent. He was without disease and without essential defects, a man in capacity, though still a child in experience and acquisition. All the elements of his nature were duly balanced and worked together in undisturbed harmony, the lower being subordinate to the higher. There was no schism, but perfect peace and equilibrium prevailed. Reason and conscience were uppermost. The will held in easy control all the susceptibilities and propensities, the appetites and passions. The bias of his being was toward God. He was in the kingdom of God by his birthright, and maintained continual communion with God.

He might have gone on to be, what Jesus Christ actually became, perfect in all his moral development. But he chose otherwise. Being placed upon probation, that is, subjected to trial for testing and maturing his spiritual strength, he fell into temptation and committed sin. He abused his freedom, perverting this great gift of God and preferring the gratification of his own desires to obeying the will of his Creator and fulfilling the purposes of his creation. What followed? The making of this fatal choice necessarily disturbed the delicate balance between his higher and lower nature, casting a weight into the wrong scale. No new faculty or principle or power or element was introduced; but the old elements were sadly disarranged. The love of God no longer ruled. Self-love, which was good, became turned into selfishness, which is bad. The animal propensities, gaining by undue indulgence a strength not designed for them, maintained successful rebellion against the conscience. Man listened to their voice when he should have listened to the voice of his Lord, and the bias toward holiness was more and more transformed into a bias toward sin. The passions and appetites obtained a predominance which they did not before possess and were not entitled to have. Powerful tendencies to evil, that is, to the undue gratification of self, became developed and, following the regular law of natural descent whereby like begets like, became hereditary and waxed greater with succeeding generations. Sin followed sin, habits became fixed, and a perverted, corrupt nature — sometimes termed filthiness, or moral defilement, of both flesh and spirit — was transmitted from sire to son.

Hence, men come into the world to-day with a bias or tendency to sin, or to that self-gratification which is sure to eventuate in sin. We inherit a germ of evil, which develops rapidly, and mightily moves us toward disobedience. Every infant is thus affected by the sin of Adam, and comes into existence with this disarranged system, these disordered faculties, which we call a depraved nature. But only a perverted ingenuity and the exigencies of a false theological system could have driven men to speak of the little ones as born in sin or born under the wrath of God. That is a fiction largely due to the wrong nomenclature to which we have referred above, a fiction which has grown increasingly distasteful to the modern mind, until it has now become very generally rejected, disowned, indeed, by all who have emancipated themselves from the thraldom of these hideous monstrosities of medieval theology.

But, though infants are not born sinners, they are born depraved, in the sense just indicated. And this truth must be firmly held. Their inherited organization, rudimentary and germinal as, of course, it is, is such that, when fully developed, they are very liable and, in fact, morally certain to commit sin. Before the dawn of moral responsibility they can have no moral character. But amoral nature, that is, a latent capacity for moral character, a constitution that, when more mature, will lay hold of moral distinctions and make moral choices, must be ascribed to them. And this moral nature, while certainly not sinful, is just as certainly wrong or wrung or twisted, so that it will inevitably show a bent toward sin as soon as the opportunity arises. It is a misfortune for the child to possess this nature, but not its fault. Fault, or desert of punishment, arises as soon as the child, arriving at years of accountability, voluntarily yields to the pressure of this tendency and transgresses some known commandment of God or dictate of right. It is not the presence of the appetencies and impulses inciting to evil which brings condemnation, but either a deliberate cherishing of the incitement or a failure to make effort for the removal of the presence after conviction has been wrought that it may and should be removed.

Some inherit very much more depravity than others, because coming of a worse stock; their immediate ancestors, by their own personal wickedness having largely increased their own depravity, have necessarily passed on these greatly strengthened tendencies to their posterity. But even from the best of ancestors, as explained just below, some depravity seems to be entailed. This, though not necessitating or causing sin, yet, taken in conjunction with our evil surroundings, leads to it and becomes the occasion of sin; and so the race grows up, a race of sinners needing regeneration before they are fitted to enter the kingdom of God.

Our position, that all depravity cannot be absolutely removed in this life, that it takes resurrection power to restore the full image of God in us, that not till glorification is our renewal in the divine likeness completed, will be fully discussed in another chapter. But this seems a fit place for calling attention to the auxiliary or corroborative fact — we consider it a fact — that all infants, without exception, even the offspring of the most eminent and mature Christians, are born depraved. How this can be if the parents in some cases are wholly free from depravity, that is, how parents can transmit something which they do not themselves possess, has considerably puzzled. such Wesleyan theologians as have seen fit to notice it.

Wesley himself takes it up and tries to find a solution by asserting, “Sin is entailed upon me, not by immediate generation, but by my first parent” (Plain Account, p. 75). But, since nothing is plainer than that it can only come from the first parent through the last parent by immediate generation, this explanation totally fails to explain and can be considered only an evasion. Adam can reach us in no other way than through our father and mother. Dr. Miley, in his Systematic Theology (vol. i, p. 507), similarly evades the point by saying: “The regenerate or sanctified state is specially a gracious state, and not of the original constitution of man. It is provided for in the economy of redemption, and achieved through the supernatural generation of the Holy Spirit, and therefore is not transmissible through natural generation.”This would apply if the question concerned the transmission of moral character wrought out by personal choice, combined with the operation of the Holy Spirit. Personal merit or demerit, innocence or guilt, is, of course, not transmissible. But whatever nature or state we have, however it originated or was superinduced, whether by the good Spirit or the evil spirit, can be and must be transmitted. Natural generation must pass on a nature, whatever it be, a good nature as quickly as a bad nature, a predisposition to righteousness as quickly as a predisposition to sinfulness. The modifications effected by spiritual forces, since they are deeply wrought into the very tissues of our being, are just as transmissible as any other. It is a wonderful help to be born of deeply pious parents. If an ungracious state — for such depravity may fitly be called — can be transmitted, why not a gracious state? And if an ungracious state does not, in any particular or to any degree, exist it certainly cannot be transmitted. The only sufficient and satisfactory reason that we have been able to find, why no child is begotten or born without some degree of depravity, is that there are no parents wholly free from it. We believe no other reason would be sought for or thought of except at the imperative demand of an erroneous theory; erroneous in terminology, we mean, rather than in substance.

It is important to note that there is only one kind of depravity, just as there is only one kind of holiness. It may exist in different degrees; it may have different sources and applications. It is sometimes spoken of under two heads. That depravity which descends to us, under the law of heredity, from our ancestors, beginning with Adam, is styled entailed depravity; and that addition which we have made to it, as the result of our personal evil choices, is styled acquired depravity. It is important to recognize these diverse origins, because they concern our responsibility; but the depravity, after all, is one in its nature and operation, though it may flow from two or more original fountains. The appetite for intoxicating liquor which holds the drunkard in bondage is, nearly always, in part hereditary and in part acquired. But as it exists practically it is a single undivided appetite, in which no separation or division can be made; and everyone would recognize it as the height of absurdity to talk about that part of his appetite which had been inherited being destroyed by some kind of a cure, while the part which he had himself produced remained. So the sinner’s bent toward sin has been greatly strengthened by his own wicked life; but it is wholly unphilosophical, as well as unscriptural, to undertake to separate between what came from his parents and what he has added. It must be treated as a unit, for such it is.

In the same way, a mistake is made when moral and physical depravity are spoken of as though they were two distinct and separate things, one of which could be removed without disturbing the other. It is too often forgotten by theorizers that, however convenient it may be for theoretical purposes to divide man into various departments, practically he is a unit. Body and mind or, to use Paul’s phraseology, “spirit, soul, and body” make one man. Depravity affects the whole of him. It is, in Dr. Whedon’s language, “a racial impairment.” One part cannot be impaired without involving all parts. One part cannot be perfectly repaired unless all are. The disorders and disabilities brought upon the body and the mind by the fall are as essential a component part of depravity as the disarrangement of the moral and spiritual relations. All parts are so closely intertwined and inseparably interlocked that each inevitably affects the other. This is easily understood and freely admitted when the distinction between depravity and sin is kept clearly in mind and no responsibility is imputed for what we cannot help.

It should, still further, be observed, that a state of depravity is by no means the same as a state of sin, or sinfulness. The latter carries the thought of responsible ill-desert and guilt. Infants are in a state of depravity, but cannot be in a state of sinfulness or sin-guiltiness. Sinwardness is a much less objectionable term for depravity; and yet even this needs a little guarding. For the tendency of the passions, unregulated by the Holy Spirit, is not exactly or necessarily toward sin itself — sin loved for its own sake, sin definitely grasped as disobedience to God — but toward self-gratification, altogether irrespective of the divine will and wholly regardless whether God be pleased or displeased. It is not a tendency which says deliberately, “Evil, be thou my good,” or which takes pains to discriminate against self-indulgence when that self-indulgence happens to coincide with what is right. A person may properly be said to be in a state of sin when he so habitually chooses to indulge his own appetites and passions, rather than to obey God, this evil habit may be considered the permanent attitude of his will. In the language of Scripture, ‘‘The heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil.” They have deliberately adopted their depravity, freely making it their own, and so may have ascribed to them a settled state or condition of responsible badness, which is sin.

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