myriads of a remote posterity—these surely are feats which, if natural, should make us exclaim, "Verily we have here a divine nature."
I trust I am not being goaded into any exaggeration of what I really feel, by the hope of inducing you to share my feelings. Perhaps it is not possible to worship any man, not even such a one as Jesus, as long as he remains in the flesh. Not till death takes a friend from us do we seem to know the real spirit that lay behind the flesh and blood; not till Jesus was taken from us could that Spirit come which was to reveal the real Being that underlay the humanity of the Nazarene. I will admit that I should not have worshipped Jesus of Nazareth on earth—in Peter's house for example at Capernaum; for though love might have been present, the trust and awe that were to be developed by His resurrection would have been wanting. Jesus does not claim our worship nor even our recognition, as an isolated being, but as inseparably linked to One without whom He Himself said He could "do nothing". It was not till He was removed from the visible world and enthroned in the hearts of men by the side of the Father, that men could perceive His real nature; and He is to be worshipped not by Himself, but as the Son of God, and one with God. Christ did not merely tell us about the Father; He revealed the Father in Himself; and, if we worship the Father as Christ revealed Him, we are, consciously or unconsciously, worshipping the Son.
Almost all language about all spiritual existences is necessarily metaphorical. What is "righteousness" except a straightness, and what is "excellence" except pre-eminence? The proposition "Christ is the Son of God" is a metaphor; it is a metaphor to say that "God is our Father in heaven," and that "God is Love." Perhaps even to say that "God is" is a metaphor, expressing a truth, but expressing it inadequately. But
