to the Deity and what Christianity regards as such. Once master this fundamental difference and everything explains itself. In that which Muslim eyes regard as weakness, Christian eyes see power! What the Muslim admires as power seems to the Christian under certain circumstances as sheer weakness—the weakness of the blundering giant who displays his force in a delicate moral case where it is utterly out of place. All these differences of view culminate in the Cross, which (rather than the Incarnation) is the real battle-ground between the two faiths. To the Muslim, as to the carnal Jew, the Cross is a blasphemy, the very embodiment of weakness and defeat; to the Christian it is the very symbol of moral strength and victory, and through it he has learned to say 'the weakness of God is stronger than men.'

The dealings of a despot with his people might conceivably be purely physical and non-moral. He might impose his will on there by force majeure, by the mechanical means of soldiers, guns and bayonets. But think how absurd would be such a method in the case of even a decent government, and how much more in the case of a father who wishes to impose his will on his children! To carry a pistol into the nursery when he gives his orders! No; he must often wait long, and abide and be patient and try every means. Now the Christian holds that the relation between God and man is nearer than between father and children than between a government and its subjects, much

more a despot and his slaves. God is Sovereign, but He is a Father-Sovereign.

We have noticed the word 'long-suffering'; in that word the word suffering is already introduced, and it carries with it the idea of 'bearing' and so of 'passivity'. Once given a moral relationship, you cannot escape from all these words and thoughts. And, in truth, the Bible is one long record of the long-suffering of God, and, therefore, of His patience, His bearing, yes, His suffering!

Once grant, then, a sinful and rebellious mankind, and such a God, and everything becomes plain—or as plain as is possible to our limited intellects. We see then that 'love' and 'holiness' (as we prefer to call 'mercy' and 'justice'¹) are not two contradictory epithets, but two sides of one and the same thing. Love is that which will not leave the sinner till all has been done for him. Holiness is that which, for the sinner's own sake, and for righteousness sake, and for the sake of all that makes life worth living, will not receive the sinner