Nor is it any reply to say,—­as I think has been abundantly shown in your debates with Harrington,—­that any such external influences only make articulate that which already existed inarticulately in the heart; that they only chafe and stimulate into life “the ivory of Pygmalion’s statue,” to use his expression,—­the dormant principles and sentiments which somehow existed, but were in deep slumber.  That which makes them vital, active, the objects of consciousness and the sources of power, may well be called a “revelation.”  Nay, since it seems that, in some way, this outward voice must be heard first, I think it is more properly so called than the internal response of the heart.  That is rather the echo.

It may be admitted that the elementary truths of religion, once propounded, are promptly admitted, but still in some external shape they require to be propounded.  There is such a thing in the human mind as unrealized truth, both intellectual and spiritual; the inarticulate muttering of an obscurely felt sentiment; a vague appetency for something we are not distinctly conscious of.  The clear utterance of it, its distinct proposition to us, is the very thing that is often wanted to convert this dim feeling into distinct vision.  This is the electric spark which transforms two invisible gases into a visible and transparent fluid; this is the influence which evolves the latent caloric, and makes it a powerful and active element.

I cannot help thinking that the great source of fallacy on this subject arises from confounding the idea of certain characteristic tendencies and potentialities of our nature with the supposition,—­ contradicted by the whole religious history of man in all ages,—­that they must be everywhere efficaciously active, and spontaneously exhibit a moral manifestation; than which there cannot, I conceive, be a greater error.

I must entreat you to recollect Harrington’s dilemma.  Either the supposed truths of your spiritual theory, or that of Mr. Newman or Mr. Parker, are known to all mankind, or not; if they are, surely their books, and every such book is the most important in the world; if not, these authors did well to write, supposing them to have truth on their side; but then that vindicates the possibility and utility of a “book-revelation.”

II.  But I go a step further, and not only contend that, from the very law of the soul’s development, there is ample scope for a revelation, even of elementary “moral and spiritual truth,” but that even if we supposed all men in actual possession of that truth, in some shape or other, there would still be abundant scope for a divinely constructed external instrument for giving it efficacy; and that this, again, is in perfect analogy with the fundamental condition of the soul’s action.  The principles of spiritual and religious life are capable in an infinite variety of ways, of being modified, intensified, vivified, by the external influences brought to bear upon them