in the feelings of the speaker, they would be quite sufficient to convey intelligible meaning to any one affected by the same emotions.

Where perfect sympathy exists, incoherent utterance—­a word—­a syllable—­is quite as efficient as elaborate sentences.  Now this is precisely the account given of the phenomenon which attended the gift of tongues.  On the day of Pentecost, all who were in the same state of spiritual emotion as those who spoke, understood the speakers; each was as intelligible to all as if he spoke in their several tongues:  to those who were coolly and sceptically watching, the effects appeared like those of intoxication.  A similar account is given by the Apostle Paul:  the voice appeared to unsympathetic ears as that of a barbarian; the uninitiated and unbelieving coming in, heard nothing that was articulate to them, but only what seemed to them the ravings of insanity.

The next was the gift of prophecy.  Prophecy has several meanings in Scripture; sometimes it means the power of predicting future events, sometimes an entranced state accompanied with ravings, sometimes it appears to mean only exposition; but prophecy, as the miraculous spiritual gift granted to the early Church, seems to have been a state of communion with the mind of God lower than that which was called the gift of tongues, at least less ecstatic, less rapt into the world to come, more under the guidance of the reason, more within the control of calm consciousness—­as we might say, less supernatural.

 Upon these gifts we make two observations: 

1.  Even the highest were not accompanied with spiritual faultlessness.  Inspiration was one thing, infallibility another.  The gifts of the Spirit were, like the gifts of Nature, subordinated to the will—­capable of being used for good or evil, sometimes pure, sometimes mixed with human infirmity.  The supernaturally gifted man was no mere machine, no automaton ruled in spite of himself by a superior spirit.  Disorder, vanity, over-weening self-estimation, might accompany these gifts, and the prophetic utterance itself might be degraded to a mere brawling in the Church; therefore St. Paul established laws of control, declared the need of subjection and rule over spiritual gifts:  the spirits of the prophets were to be subject to the prophets; if those in the ecstatic state were tempted to break out into utterance and unable to interpret what it meant, those so gifted were to hold their peace.

The prophet poured out the truths supernaturally imparted to his highest spirit, in an inspired and impassioned eloquence which was intelligible even to the unspiritual, and was one of the appointed means of convincing the unconverted.  The lesson derivable from this is not obsolete even in the present day.  There is nothing perhaps precisely identical in our own day with those gifts of the early Church; but genius and talent are uncommon gifts, which stand in