inaccessible Godhead, which is God the Holy Spirit."
"But I know of no God the Holy Spirit, and Fate is not God at

all. I saw in my vision one sole God, uncrucified, militant--
conquering and to conquer."

Old Likeman stared. "You saw!"
The Bishop of Princhester had not meant to go so far. But he

stuck to his words. "As if I saw with my eyes. A God of light and
courage."

"You have had visions, Scrope?"
"I seemed to see."

"No, you have just been dreaming dreams."
"But why should one not see?"

"See! The things of the spirit. These symbols as realities!
These metaphors as men walking!"

"You talk like an agnostic."
"We are all agnostics. Our creeds are expressions of ourselves

and our attitude and relationship to the unknown. The triune God
is just the form of our need and disposition. I have always

assumed that you took that for granted. Who has ever really seen
or heard or felt God? God is neither of the senses nor of the

mind; he is of the soul. You are realistic, you are
materialistic...."

His voice expostulated.
The Bishop of Princhester reflected. The vision of God was far

off among his memories now, and difficult to recall. But he said
at last: "I believe there is a God and that he is as real a

person as you or I. And he is not the theological God we set out
before the world."

"Personification," said Likeman. "In the eighteenth century
they used to draw beautiful female figures as Science and

Mathematics. Young men have loved Science--and Freedom--as
Pygmalion loved Galatea. Have it so if you will. Have a visible

person for your Deity. But let me keep up my--spirituality."
"Your spirituality seems as thin as a mist. Do you really

believe--anything?"
"Everything!" said Likeman emphatically, sitting up with a

transitory vigour. "Everything we two have ever professed
together. I believe that the creeds of my church do express all

that can possibly be expressed in the relationship of--That "--
he made a comprehensivegesture with a twist of his hand upon its

wrist--"to the human soul. I believe that they express it as
well as the human mind can express it. Where they seem to be

contradictory or absurd, it is merely that the mystery is
paradoxical. I believe that the story of the Fall and of the

Redemption is a complete symbol, that to add to it or to subtract
from it or to alter it is to diminish its truth; if it seems

incredible at this point or that, then simply I admit my own
mental defect. And I believe in our Church, Scrope, as the

embodied truth of religion, the divineinstrument in human
affairs. I believe in the security of its tradition, in the

complete and entire soundness of its teaching, in its essential
authority and divinity."

He paused, and put his head a little on one side and smiled
sweetly. "And now can you say I do not believe?"

"But the historical Christ, the man Jesus?"
"A life may be a metaphor. Why not? Yes, I believe it all.

All."
The Bishop of Princhester was staggered by this complete

acceptance. "I see you believe all you profess," he said, and
remained for a moment or so rallying his forces.

"Your vision--if it was a vision--I put it to you, was just
some single aspect of divinity," said Likeman. "We make a mistake

in supposing that Heresy has no truth in it. Most heresies are
only a disproportionate apprehension of some essential truth.

Most heretics are men who have suddenly caught a glimpse through
the veil of some particular verity.... They are dazzled by that

aspect. All the rest has vanished.... They are obsessed. You are
obsessed clearly by this discovery of the militancy of God. God

the Son--as Hero. And you want to go out to the simple worship
of that one aspect. You want to go out to a Dissenter's tent in

the wilderness, instead of staying in the Great Temple of the
Ages."

Was that true?
For some moments it sounded true.

The Bishop of Princhester sat frowning and looking at that.
Very far away was the vision now of that golden Captain who bade

him come. Then at a thought the bishop smiled.
"The Great Temple of the Ages," he repeated. "But do you

remember the trouble we had when the little old Queen was so
pigheaded?"

"Oh! I remember, I remember," said Likeman, smiling with
unshaken confidence. "Why not?"

"For sixty years all we bishops in what you call the Great
Temple of the Ages, were appointed and bullied and kept in our

places by that pink irascible bit of dignity. I remember how at
the time I didn't dare betray my boiling indignation even to you

--I scarcely dared admit it to myself...."
He paused.

"It doesn't matter at all," and old Likeman waved it aside.
"Not at all," he confirmed, waving again.

"I spoke of the whole church of Christ on earth," he went on.
"These things, these Victorias and Edwards and so on, are

temporary accidents--just as the severance of an Anglican from
a Roman communion and a Greek orthodoxcommunion are temporary

accidents. You will remark that wise men in all ages have been
able to surmount the difficulty of these things. Why? Because

they knew that in spite of all these splits and irregularities
and defacements--like the cracks and crannies and lichens on a

cathedral wall--the building held good, that it was shelter and
security. There is no other shelter and security. And so I come

to your problem. Suppose it is true that you have this incidental
vision of the militant aspect of God, and he isn't, as you see

him now that is,--he isn't like the Trinity, he isn't like the
Creed, he doesn't seem to be related to the Church, then comes

the question, are you going out for that? And whither do you go
if you do go out? The Church remains. We alter doctrines not by

changing the words but by shifting the accent. We can
under锟絘ccentuate below the threshold of consciousness."

"But can we?"
"We do. Where's Hell now? Eighty years ago it warmed the whole

Church. It was--as some atheist or other put it the other day
--the central heating of the soul. But never mind that point

now. Consider the essential question, the question of breaking
with the church. Ask yourself, whither would you go? To become an

oddity! A Dissenter. A Negative. Self emasculated. The spirit
that denies. You would just go out. You would just cease to serve

Religion. That would be all. You wouldn't do anything. The Church
would go on; everything else would go on. Only you would be lost

in the outer wilderness.
"But then--"

Old Likeman leant forward and pointed a bony finger. "Stay in
the Church and modify it. Bring this new light of yours to the

altar."
There was a little pause.

"No man," the bishop thought aloud, "putteth new wine into old
bottles."