which have in America been proved to be both morally and intellectually helpful, are to be recklessly overturned. The free citizen is to be buried under a vast machinery of administration. And the tone of many revolutionists points to an official class with the qualifications of slave-drivers. Socialists have sometimes found their ideal in Sparta, and reasonably enough if we think only of the helots, the serfs of the state. But they need not look so far back. The type of the ruler who takes from the toil of hand or brain the fruits of toil, and so stifles industry and intelligence together, is not the heroic Spartan but the "unspeakable Turk." The passion on which socialism, often unconsciously, depends to incite the multitude to wholesale plunder is that ignoble one which can bear no superiority in anything, and which has its counterpart in the spirit of those Hebrew demagogues who would neither go into the Kingdom of Heaven themselves, nor suffer them that were entering to go in. Of course the envy which does not shirk from robbery need not shirk from murder, and murder is recommended by some and excused by others as an instrument of the socialistic revolution.

Against the undeniable evils of which socialists complain, the forces of civilization are always in the field, and are growing more effective. Such evils as disregard of public duty, indifference to the general welfare, selfish enjoyment of inherited wealth by those who do nothing for society, are confronted by Christianity with the thorough going radicalism of the New Testament, "Ye are not your own." This principle creates a trust which embraces far more than a rich man's money, putting all that all men have, and all that they are, at the service of humanity.

Over against the socialist, menacing good government with wild schemes for making it better, stands the anarchist, eager to overturn all government. This, however, is not because he hates peace and order, but because

in his view external authority stands in the way of peace and order. His ideal is that condition in which all men shall do what is wise and right without constraint. The "Federalist" says that "if men were angels no government would be necessary," and styles government "the greatest of all reflections on human nature." The endless peace which comes when life thrills everywhere with the life of God because God is "all in all," is far more than our modern anarchist dreams of, but his dream of freedom has its best interpretation in the words with which we follow up our petition for the kingdom, "Thy will be done in earth, as it is in Heaven."

But once more, with incredible blindness, the inward working which culture and Christianity enjoin, is disregarded, and outward changes are relied on to transform character. Though the cherished ideal "has been slowly elaborated by the untold generations of our race," development can not be trusted to bring the reality. The unripe fruit is to be torn from the tree; or, rather, the tree itself is to be cut down that the fruit, hardly more than blossoming, may form and ripen on dead boughs. Our gentle anarchist does not tell us what would be the fate in the reign of terror with which anarchy must begin, (and with which it would surely end,) of those "admirable beings whose lives are passed," as he confesses, in tasks of "exquisite benevolence." Such is his pathetic faith in human nature that he expects men to grow into angels by acting like fiends, and calmly entrusts the conversion of the world to the devil.

That human government makes terrible mistakes is granted by those who expect most from it, like Mr. Arnold. But culture is training men for absolute selfgovernment, and Christianity offers them a "service" which is perfect freedom," and the Christian church at its worst was the one power which tyrants were afraid of. We may fail to check the onset of the "red revolution" with all our use of right reason and sound morality

and brotherly feeling. Christ Himself did not so cure the madness of the Hebrew revolutionists.

Our academic semi-centennial is a truer jubilee for the witness which it bears to the value of "soul-liberty." When fifty years ago civil government in Ohio gave this institution its charter, the gift included release from state intervention. The young college sought and has richly repaid the sympathy of the church, but the church has had no authority within its walls. Capital has served it unselfishly, using its own force of disciplined intelligence in guarding the material interests of the college, but leaving the guardians of its nobler interests untrammeled. Labor received here at the outset the fullest recognition as a "true yoke-fellow" of thought, and when the tie ceased to be compulsory, neither had been dishonored, but thought had made another gain in freedom. The state and the church, capital and labor, have united here in the enfranchisement of the mind. But there is another chain which might fetter it. The late Professor Guyot once replied to a student in theology who had asked him what would come of a rather startling discovery: "Something very fine will come of it; we must not be afraid of the truth." No; for that fear would make the soul the hopeless slave of error. And yet the truth might be unspeakably awful; if the pessimists are right, it is so, and we must be afraid of it. It is that genuine, thorough culture which leads us towards a total perfection by the development of heart and conscience along with intellect, that delivers from this enslaving fear. For then with the soul's clear vision of the true is blended its vision of the beautiful and the good, and of that in which they subsist together, the life, the all-enfolding life of the Living God. As one of our brotherhood, Professor Howison, of the University of California, has recently said, "Truth that does not include good and beauty is only the fragment of truth." Our very love of truth, then, should prompt us to keep the conscience pure and the heart warm.

A few months ago our instructor in Hellenism did public honor in behalf of art to a Christian minister who is using art and science as aids to religion among the "sunken multitudes" of East London. And years before the sight of another toiling there with Christ, inspired him to tell us how the lamp of sacrifice shed both light and sweetness, and guides us towards perfection.

"Oh, human soul! as long as thou canst so

Set up a mark of everlasting light

Above the howling senses' ebb and flow,

To cheer thee, and to right thee if thou roam,

Not with lost toil thou labourest through the night!

Thou mak'st the heaven thou hop'st indeed thy home!" *

*In November, 1884, a mosaic copy of Watts' painting of "Time, Death and Judgment," was placed on the street-front of St. Jude's, White Chapel, in recognition of the effort of the vicar, the Rev. S. A. Barnett, "to make the lives of his neighbors brighter by bringing within their reach the influence of beauty," and Mr. Arnold delivered an address. The lines above quoted are from his "East London," in the New Poems.

The distinguished honor of addressing you, upon this semi-centennial anniversary of our beloved Alma Mater, I duly appreciate and for this honor I thank you.

There are occasions when we are compelled by reason of our surroundings, by the situation in which we are placed, to review the past and forecast the future, to consider whence we came and whither we are going. This is such an occasion in the life and progress of this college and of the country. I do but repeat that which you all know and have often thought of and expressed, that the fifty years of the life of Marietta College have accomplished more in the progress of the human race, in the development of the arts and sciences, of those discoveries and inventions which are useful, beautiful, pleasing, and attractive, than any preceding century. But it is one of the misfortunes incident to human life that good and evil are so blended together, so inseparably and indissolubly connected, that the greatest good, the choicest blessings, bring woes and curses in their train. While human experience has shown that our sorest trials are often "blessings in disguise," it has also taught us that often what we esteem our chief good, our supreme blessings, are in reality the worst and most to be deplored of all evils.