better than his own, yet constantly opposed to his own. Here then arises a conflict between his strong animal impulses, i.e. "the flesh," and a weak nascent impulse of conscience, i.e. "the spirit;" the former bidding him disobey the higher Will, the latter bidding him obey. Even when he disobeys, the spirit has at least the power to make him uneasy in his disobedience, and this uneasiness for the first time reveals in him the nature of sin. Until the Law of the higher Will was thus placed side by side with his own will, and until the deflections of his own will from the higher Will were thus made manifest and rebuked by conscience, the child had no notion of sin. Now he knows it: "by Law has come the knowledge of sin."
As long as he is thus "under the Law" he cannot possibly be righteous; he can neither be "justified" nor feel "justified." When he is disobedient under the Law, he is conscious of sin; but when he is obedient under the Law, he is not conscious of peace or inward harmony: the Law stands up, for ever antagonistic to his natural impulses, and he cannot but dislike it, although he acknowledges its claims upon him: consequently, even when he obeys it, he obeys it with a sense of servitude, obeying in the fear of punishment or in the hope of reward. Such actions as are performed in this spirit have no spontaneousness or grace; they are the tasks of a hireling, mere piece-work—"works," as St. Paul more shortly calls them, or "the works of the Law;" and "by the works of the Law shall no flesh be justified." During this period he finds no guidance from the spirit of loving obedience, but has to trust in formularies and prescriptions, "do this," "avoid that;" he fears lest he may do too little, and grudges lest he may do too much: he is in the condition, not of a son, but of a servant working for wages. Just as the Stoic said of the man who was not "wise," that whatever he did, even to the moving of his little finger,
