incomplete and impermanent. We long to be more; and it is this longing, a longing that never can be stayed so long as we are what we are, which is the root of evil. It is an evil planted in our natures, and we cannot escape it. Death is for every man, sickness and old age are for every man-failure of desire, in short, must come to every man. Therefore the Buddha makes his whole gospel address itself to this practical point-to see how nature's misery may be extirpated. Again and again he warns us that he has nothing to do with speculative questions, that the fact of suffering is the one important thing in the world, and that in view of it nobody has a right to think of anything else. As I have feared I might in some respect misrepresent his teaching, I copy here a few of his statements.

"The religious life," he says, "does not depend upon the dogma that the saint exists or does not exist after death; for there still remain birth, death, old age, sorrow, lamentation, misery, and despair, for the extinction of which in the present life I am prescribing. Accordingly, bear always in mind what it is which I have elucidated and what it is which I have not elucidated. I have not' elucidated that the world is eternal or not eternal, that the soul and body are identical or not identical, that the saint exists after death or does not exist. But the origin of misery have I elucidated, the cessation of misery have I elucidated, and the path leading to the cessation of misery have I elucidated. And why have I elucidated this? Because this profits, has to do with the fundamentals of religion, and tends to aversion, absence of passion, cessation, quiescence, knowledge, supreme wisdom. Therefore have I elucidated it. Bear, then, always in mind what I have elucidated and what I have not elucidated." This, then, is the gospel of the Buddha. It aims at the stoppage of misery. But how can it be stopped? Is it not inevitable? Obviously, so long as we are conscious of a limit and seek to pass it, so long there must be yearning and so long there must be pain. The only means, then, of stopping human misery is to stop human desire, for that is the root of every trouble. Only when desire has altogether passed away can misery cease. Is this pessimism? I certainly do not like to

use that obnoxious word in the presence of my gentle friend. Yet as we reflect how Christianity faces this same tremendous problem, there appears a notable contrast in emphasis. Christianity knows of death, knows of old age, knows of disease, and is cheerful before them, looks upon them indeed as the very means which may assist us in that for which we are here. These are valuable forces, it tells us; for in this world we are co-workers with God, intrusted with the charge of our own upbuilding, and through these very agencies that upbuilding may be accomplished.

We

Now, it may be that some such exalted ideas visited the mind of the Buddha. It may be that when he urged that we should stop all desire and in the obliteration of this gain peace, it may be that he had some such notion as Jesus taught in his adoption of suffering. But certainly that nobler conception is vaguely expressed. Christianity is an optimistic faith. speak of Jesus, it is true, as a man of sorrows; time after time it is recorded that he wept, and I do not read that he laughed. And yet, after all, the impression left upon us is one of perpetual hope. We find Jesus eating and drinking and taking part in the festivities of earth, at no time warning us that desire is evil; on the contrary, rather encouraging us to be as full as possible of desire, to live the largest possible life; not bidding us reduce life to its lowest terms and blot out impulse, but rather to seek to be filled with his own triumphant fullness. And is not that the view of Christianity which we ourselves hold? Who is there here who counts a single impulse of his nature evil, or would have a single impulse of that nature blotted out? Would he not labor rather that, through the harmonizing of his multitudinous impulses, a stronger nature still might be built up? But in Buddhism I do not find teaching of this transfiguring sort. On the contrary, it

seems to me to proclaim a recoil from life because misery is planted at its heart. So overcome is the Buddha with a sense of pain that he would escape from it by blotting out our very desires. I can only say that, if this be a correct understanding of Buddhism—perhaps it is not--then I must remain a Christian, because I desire more life, and am far from wishing

for less. To my mind Christ is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them. But let us turn to the second point of agreement, that which I may call the stress which the two religions lay on a right understanding of personality. Each of them insists upon this. With both of them the doctrine of the person is fundamental. But they are still more closely akin; for each recognizes that curious fact in the nature of the person, that his true life is a perpetual dying. With both, therefore, self-denial is all-important. The aim of Buddhism is to put all notion of self away, to banish it entirely; and is not this the teaching of Christianity also? Everywhere and always Christianity is self-sacrifice. This I know, and yet once more I feel the two emphases to be divergent. In Buddhism, self, the ego, personal consciousness, is the source of all the misery of which we have spokena misery the greater because, if we would but look, there is no real ground for it. In point of fact, there is no ego. The fancy that it exists is the one poisonous delusion of life. There is only an unsub

stantial succession of states of consciousness, the earlier inducing the later, each actual, but the related whole altogether non-existent. For the Buddhists, like the Nominalists of the Middle Ages or the Positivists of to-day, attach significance to the particular element and not to the related organism. This they are never tired of illustrating. For example: Is this a chariot? I see the wheel, the pole, the seat: is any one of them the chariot? No, none of them. Well, where, then, is the chariot? There is no chariot. Each part is real, but the whole unreal. The same analysis is applied to man. Is the hair the person? Is the face? No. The breath? No. This thought? No. That affection? No. Well, then, why talk about an ego at all. There is no self. This conclusion, startling as it seems, was regarded by the Buddha as the very heart of his gospel. For when he summons me to put away desire, how can I heartily put it away so long as I believe that I am a personal ego? Cherishing this delusion, I am sure to seek something for myself. The only hope of apathetic peace is in the frank recognition that there is in me no person whatever. As on this point I

fear I may mislead you, I will cite the words of the Buddha himself:

"The wise man grasps the fourfold emptiness disclosed in the words, 'I am nowhere anything for any one, and nowhere is there for me anything or any one.' And how? He sees that he has no ego anywhere, none to bring forward to be anything for any one else, none to bring forward to play the rôle of brother, friend, or follower. He sees, too, that no one has an ego to be anything to him, no ego to bring forward in any rôle, either of a brother, friend, or follower. Thus, inasmuch as he sees that there is no ego any where, that he has none to bring forward to any one else, and that no one can bring anything of the sort to himself, he has grasped the fourfold emptiness. Therefore has it been said, Misery only doth exist, none miserable. No doer is there, naught save the deed is found.

Nirvana is, but not the man who seeks it.
The path exists, but not the traveler on it."

These words can mean but one thing: personality is an object of abhorrence, and is to be altogether rejected. Any belief in our existence is based on ignorance. Lest you should suppose that the Buddha is referring here to our bodily existence, and is merely asserting that this body is not myself, I will read one more extract:

"Even the ignorant, unconverted man may conceive an aversion for this body, which is composed of the four elements, may divest himself of passion for it and attain to freedom from it. But that which is called mind, intellect, consciousness--here ignorant, unconverted man is not equal to divesting himself of passion and attaining to freedom. Because from time immemorial he has held, cherished, and affected the notion, 'This is mine;" This am I'This is my ego.' But it were better if he regarded the body as an ego rather than the mind. Because it is evident that this body which is composed of the four elements may last two, three, four years, last five years, last twenty years, thirty, forty, fifty, one hundred years, or even more. But that which is called mind, intellect, consciousness, keeps up an incessant round by day and by night of perishing as one thing, and springing up as another."

In the mind, accordingly, no more than

in the body, is there any such thing as personal existence to be found. Personal consciousness, an ego, is an illusion, and the most mischievous of all illusions. Now, of course, none of us believe that side by side with all our other powers there exists a separated ego. No man is so superstitious as this. What we do recognize is that the organization of all our powers constitutes a veritable personality, and that this personality cannot be denied or disregarded without overthrowing every standard by which moral worth is estimated. This I understand to be everywhere assumed in Jesus' teaching. Personality is in his eyes infinitely important. Nothing can be of equal worth with it. What shall a man give in exchange for his soul? To the person the universe is subordinated; for the sake of personality all else exists. Horror of individual destruction is a distinctive note in Christianity. Each one through consciousness is given charge of himself; he is to build himself up into steadfast character, into powerful personality. On this Jesus perpetually dwells. His whole gospel is occupied with pointing out how as persons we may become strong. Of course I do not mean to deny that Jesus insists on renunciation; but let us be clear about that. Self-denial we must practice, yet self-assertion at the same time. For are there not possible two different ideas of self? There is the isolated self, my own separate individual being, in which I pit myself against you; I, not you, I detached from you, I the rival of you, I for whom all are and to whom all must be in subjection. This is the hideous view, for it presents man as isolated, and against this self Jesus warns us. Excepta corn of wheat fall into the ground, connecting itself with the surroundings, that which is most terrible shall befall it: it abideth alone. Here is the selfish self, the self which we should shun. But Jesus also explains what the true self is. "I am the vine, ye are the branches. Abide in me, as I abide in the Father." That is, the conjunct self is the noble seif, knitting me with my fellows, myself in relations. This is to be the object of deepest respect, to be regarded as the very basis of society, and in Jesus' mind it takes its place as the standard of all morality. Thou shalt love thy neighbor

as thyself. He does not say, hate yourself, turn away from yourself, empty yourself of everything-not at all. But he asks, What is a man advantaged if he gain the whole world and lose himself?"

Now, because Jesus is constantly calling us to self-renunciation, it is easy to confuse the evil self with the noble self; and I cannot help thinking that some such confusion got into Buddhism. Consciousness of personality has been a matter of slow growth in the history of the race, and it is not strange that the Buddha should have had an imperfect conception of it. At any rate, this is the root of all asceticism. I am undoubtedly to deny myself as a separate individual, but that is because I am to be as fully as possible a rational person. Since in order to live I must die, the ascetic would destroy himself altogether. Our popular hymn says:

O to be nothing, nothing!
Only to lie at his feet,

A broken and empty vessel,

For the Master's service meet.

What blasphemy! An empty vessel suited to the service of the Master? No, never! The most perfect vessel, the fullest vessel, this shall be ours. And that is the Christian doctrine. It is not to starve and abolish ourselves; it is to fill ourselves full and render ourselves potent individuals, that we may be forever God's efficient servants.

It

And this leads to the third point. As I understand it, Buddhism accords reverence to natures higher than our own. sees that humanity cannot be studied by itself, but must be considered in its divine connections. Just so does Christianity. We are children of a Father, made in his image, and called to be perfect as he is perfect. Yet here, if I do not grossly mistake, there is a wide difference between Buddhism and Christianity, for I cannot discover a God in Buddhism—a single God; and a religion with no God is difficult for a Christian to conceive. It is true, Buddhism contains a multitude of gods. They are beings like ourselves who have already passed a righteous life on earth, and yet a life not completely righteous; beings who were unable to suppress altogether their turbulent ego here, and allowed sufficient of it to remain to keep them still in existence. Therefore

in their own fashion they abide, inhabiting graded heavens, according to the degree which their holiness has reached. But eventually they too will die, for personality is no more real in them than it is in us.

Once more let me read: "The length of life of the gods who make their abode in the realm of the infinity of space is 20,000 cycles; in the realm of the infinity of consciousness, 40,000 cycles; in the realm of nothingness, 60,000 cycles; in the realm of neither perception nor yet non-perception, 84,000 cycles."

In short, their immortality is in proportion as they have attained to nothingness. Nothingness is the divine condition, because in it selfhood and desire have passed away. There can be no supreme God because non-perception is high above perception, unconsciousness above consciousness. Whoever would be divine, let him take the path of negation. By this path the saint even in this life may attain something like the life of the gods. Hypnotizing himself, he may here escape from consciousness. In Mr. Warren's book, page 294, you will find in detail the means by which this heavenly trance may be induced. It must not be practiced in the middle of the monastery, but in some concealed spot, in a cave or roofed hut. On a cloth or skin a circle is made of well-kneaded clay, from which all grass and roots have been removed. This is placed on the ground and gazed at, and the monk must repeat over and over some suitable words, such as Broad One, Broad One, Broad One. He must contemplate the circle with eyes open and shut, and this for a hundred or a thousand times, or even more. When in his meditation the circle appears equally visible whether his eyes are open or shut, that is the securing of the mental reflex. That is inanition.

Now, our thought of God and of our approach to him is surely marked with a different emphasis from this. We look to him as a living God and as the God of our lives. We are called on to serve him with all the heart and all the mind and all the soul. We believe that even the limitations in which we now live do not separate us from him, for Jesus has shown us how acceptance of limitation is approach to God. He has pointed out how

the more completely men we are, the more identified with God. He has broken down the middle wall of partition between God and man, and has thus lifted us up into his presence. The sacred term which is forever on Jesus' lips is "the kingdom of heaven," and we are to pray that this may come upon earth into our very life here our life, with all its complexity, with all its seeming secularity-and that this be the divine life. Now, I must say that I feel a large difference of emphasis between this stately ideal of a life lived in company with God and that of the Buddhist saintship. I would not overlook the importance of the remark which my friend made. He said that at the time of the Buddha the current ignoble conceptions of the supreme God made it a righteous thing to protest altogether against his existence. I can well believe it.

But even so, if that protest has survived in Buddhism, Buddhism bears the mark of a special time and cannot be regarded as a universal religion.

Yet, lastly, Buddhism and Christianity are at one in this: that they perceive our life here is but for a moment, and if rightly lived it must be lived in view of an eternal life or a life hereafter. Life does not cease with our departure; it continues still beyond, and that life beyond will be shaped by the life here. Indeed, no discrimination can be made on grounds of time. A fall from a horse, contact with a fever-germ-these things cannot change the nature of eternal life. So the Buddha teaches, so Jesus teaches. Eternal life is something here and now, if it ever is to be. Both teachers insist on this. Yet, once more, there is here a strange difference of emphasis; for that which is promised in Buddhism is that, in proportion as we are righteous here, so shall existence hereafter be shortened; whereas in Christianity it is promised that in proportion as we are righteous here we may be assured of an immortal life hereafter. We have already seen how in Buddhism desire is regarded as the evil thing and as that which produces existence. When, then, a man is filled with desire up to the moment of death, thereafter that self-asserting desire goes on. He is reborn and given further opportunity. He may still maintain a degree of self-assertion and be born over and

over again. This is the immortality of Buddhism. But if he succeeds in altogether suppressing desire, if he can entirely obliterate personality, then he has attained to Nirvana here and hereafter. I have just read you a passage in which the means of attaining Nirvana in this life are described. But since Nirvana is a much-disputed term, difficult to grasp, it will be safest to read an authoritative definition of it: "In Nirvana there is a complete fading out and cessation of desire. Therefore is Nirvana called a letting go, a loosing hold, a relinquishment and non-adhesion. For Nirvana is but one, but its names based on its oppositions are many to wit, complete fading out, complete cessation, a letting go, a loosing hold, a relinquishment, a nonadhesion, the perishing of passion, the perishing of infatuation, the perishing of desire, non-origination, the non-existent, deliverance from conception, deliverance from rebirth." This is Nirvana.

Now, I readily admit that the spiritual

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who has already comprehended eternal life can interpret that noble thought of eternal life into such expressions as these. Yet we must all be struck with this fact: eternal life is here described in negative terms. In Christianity it is described in positive terms. "In my Father's house are many mansions." "I give you to drink of eternal life." Believe on me and ye shall have eternal life." All these statements are positive. If Buddhism as has sometimes been asserted-means by Nirvana that which Christianity means by eternal life, I can only say that Christianity is bolder and has expressed its meaning with far greater precision.

Here, then, we have passed in brief review the four fundamental doctrines of Buddhism-the doctrines of evil, of man, of God, and of immortality. suppose they are the fundamental doctrines of every religion. And is it not true that all which is positive, strong, helpful in them we accept? We are Buddhists to this degree: we go forth in compassion; we seek self-renunciation; we lift up our eyes on high; we look for a life to come. Therefore, I hold that so far as these four lines are concerned we have no need to become Buddhists. But I suppose I must say a little more than that. I feel

obliged to say that because of the differences, perhaps only of emphasis, which I have pointed out in Buddhism, Buddhism seems to me to be incompetent to much for which Christianity is competent. I find in the teachings of Buddha little provision for the great organic institutions of society. The family does not naturally spring from such a soil. Of course the family exists under Buddhism. It is tolerated. But, after all, the call of the Buddha is always to a monastic life, and the thoroughgoing Buddhist is a monk. Monkery is deeply planted in the nature of Buddhism. The family, if it exists, exists by force of nature, a subordinated institution. Woman as woman has no well-grounded dignity. Nor do I see any provision in Buddhism for the upbuilding of a State. The organic union of man with man in spiritual bonds is something on which Buddhism depends, but which it does not expressly sanction. Society under Buddhism would seem to me to remain a little secular. In the same way the corporate church is hardly provided for. Each Buddhist is seeking after an eternal life, but he does not conceive this as integrally involved in that of his fellow. It is true a great compassion, a yearning sense of the misery of the world, saves the Buddhist from much that is narrow in his creed at this point. But for the organic church as we understand it I see small provision in the teaching of Buddha. And if these great organic institutions are largely left on one side are allowed to be provided for rather by our instincts than by our spiritual faiths-will it not also fare hard with science and art? Without harshness, I think we may say that there is a certain weakness in the nature of Buddhism in respect to matters of this sort. For if our aim is to escape pain and to subjugate the personal life, we are not likely largely to expand in the directions of science and of art.

In this address I have been comparing Buddhism with Christianity and calling it the smaller faith. This I believe, but I believe also that it is a faith which, so far as it goes, is truly noble. I am sorry I have had no time to do honor to its followers for the lofty inspiration which they have justly drawn from it. I cannot close, however, till I have expressed my reverent admiration for the pity, the