prostrates himself upon the ground, throws dust upon his head, tears his garments, is not ashamed to break out into the most violent lamentations.  In the north, we rule our grief in public; suffer not even a quiver to be seen upon the lip or brow, and consider calmness as the appropriate expression of manly grief.  Nay, two sisters of different temperament will show their grief diversely; one will love to dwell upon the theme of the qualities of the departed, the other feels it a sacred sorrow, on which the lips are sealed for ever; yet would it not be idle to ask which of them has the truest affection?  Are they not both in their own way true?  In the same East, men take off their sandals in devotion; we exactly reverse the procedure, and uncover the head.  The Oriental prostrates himself in the dust before his sovereign; even before his God the Briton only kneels; yet would it not again be idle to ask which is the essential and proper form of reverence?  Is not true reverence in all cases modified by the individualities of temperament and education?  Should we not say, in all these forms worketh one and the same spirit of reverence?

Again in the world as God has made it, one law shows itself under diverse, even opposite manifestations; lead sinks in water, wood floats upon the surface.  In former times men assigned these different results to different forces, laws, and gods.  A knowledge of Nature has demonstrated that they are expressions of one and the same law; and the great difference between the educated and the uneducated man is this—­the uneducated sees in this world nothing but an infinite collection of unconnected facts—­a broken, distorted, and fragmentary system, which his mind can by no means reduce to order.  The educated man, in proportion to his education, sees the number of laws diminished—­beholds in the manifold appearances of Nature the expression of a few laws, by degrees fewer, till at last it becomes possible to his conception that they are all reducible to one, and that that which lies beneath the innumerable phenomena of Nature is the One Spirit—­God.

2.  All living unity is spiritual, not formal; not sameness, but manifoldness.  You may have a unity shown in identity of form; but it is a lifeless unity.  There is a sameness on the sea-beach—­that unity which the ocean waves have produced by curling and forcibly destroying the angularities of individual form, so that every stone presents the same monotony of aspect, and you must fracture each again in order to distinguish whether you hold in your hand a mass of flint or fragment of basalt.  There is no life in unity such as this.

But as soon as you arrive at a unity that is living, the form becomes more complex, and you search in vain for uniformity.  In the parts, it must be found, if found at all, in the sameness of the pervading life.  The illustration given by the apostle is that of the human body—­a