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fers either merely to the second coming, as the first act, and a second and several signals are presupposed, or it is to be taken collectively). The conception of the signals of the trumpet rests ultimately upon the use of the holy trumpets in the festivals of Divine worship among the Jews, and is the figure of the entrance of solemn catastrophies, produced from above. The last signal of all cannot be meant, if here only the first resurrection be spoken of, which, according to vs. 23, 24, is not to be doubted. oaλzioa-alλay.] is a confirmatory clause, which is not, with Grb. and Scho., to be inserted in brackets, since the construction is not thereby interrupted; but rather, on the contrary, the following second confirmatory clause, v. 53, refers to aλay. oakлio] Impers. cf. Win. § 39. 1. xai] and then, in consequence of that. queis allay.] Calov. Est. Strr. (Opusc. 1. 76) Fl. and others, after Chrys. Thdrt. Thphlet. and Oec., are of opinion, that Paul does not speak of himself, but of those who should then be living. V. 53. Sei] according to the principle, v. 50. ¿vdúoαodαi] put on, image of close union, Lu. 24: 49. Ro. 13: 14. Eph. 4: 24. Col. 3: 10, especially also of the resurrection-body, 2 Cor. 5: 3.

Vs. 54-57. The apostle dwells in triumphant hope upon this conception; it is, as it were, a lyrical conclusion to the whole section, like Ro. 8: 31 seq. V. 54. revýoɛrai] will take place, “be fulfilled,” κατεπόθη κ. τ. λ.] Is. 25: 8, not after the LXX. (κατέπιεν ὁ θάνατος loxvoas), but after the original text, and indeed with this deviation, that, Jehovah destroys, is translated passively, and for ever, by eis vixos (as LXX. 2 Sam. 2: 26 and elsewhere) to victory (so that victory is the result). Schemoth R. XXX. f. 131. 4. XV. f. 101. 3: indiebus ejus (Messiae) Deus S. B. deglutiet mortem s. d. Es. XXV, 8 (Wtst.).

Vs. 55, 56. Thdrt. Thphlet. and Oec. seem to take these words of Hos. 13: 14, not as a quotation, but as borrowed, and as an expression of the triumphant feeling of the apostle, as also Meyer adopts this view. But as in v. 56 a Midrasch (commentary) follows, and as the apostle elsewhere (Ro. 11: 8) unites various passages, it seems better to

; אֱהִי דְבָרֶיךָ מָוֶת אֲהִי קָטָבְךָ שְׁאֵל : regard them as a quotation. Hosea says

:

LXX. nov (= cf. v. 10; others, I will be) dixn Gov (instead of thy plagues), dávate, nov tò xértoor cov (instead of thy diseases), dn. BC 17. all. Verss. Patr. Lachm. Tschdf. and Rck. have here vixos first and xéviqov last, contrary to the order of words in the common text, but it is plainly through accommodation to the LXX. Again, B D E F G. 39. all. Verss. Patr. Lehm. Tschdf. Rck. have Dávare instead of asn, which, as a deviation from the LXX, is to be regarded as original (Mey.). By xevroov Paul conceives of the sting

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Final Admonition.

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of a scorpion (Thphlet. Grt. Mey.), i. e. a destructive weapon, not a goad (Schltz. Bllr.); it is not parallel with duvaus "as that which calls forth the expression of power: sin wakes the slumbering power of death, and again the law that of sin" (Olsh.), for zéro. 7. Dar. is the sting with which death kills, not by which its power is awakened. According to the familiar expression that death is the wages of sin (Ro. 6: 23), the latter is here represented as the destructive weapon, which death employs; and, that the strength of sin lies in the law, which awakens and strengthens it, is clear from Ro. 7: 7 seq.- V. 57. cf. Ro. 7:25. za didóvri] the Present denoting the certain Future.

τὸ νίκος] as v. 54.

V. 58. Final warning, in the form of an inference (oze, cf. 11: 33. 14: 39), not from re didóvri x. 7. 2. (Mey.) but from the whole previous instruction. ¿dqało-άuer.] firm, immovable, namely in faith, cf. Col.1: 23, and indeed here in reference to the doubts which have been considered. Bez. and Mey.: the readers are conceived of as ethical athletes; but there is no mention of combat. But as faith must be active, and moral action suffers by doubts, it is added: 780166. x. 7. 2.] distinguishing yourselves in the work of the Lord. This is not the work which Christ has performed, the Christian plan of salvation, cf. 16: 10. Phil. 2: 30 (Mey.), or the spread of Christianity (Olsh.), but practical Christianity, cf. Jno. 6: 28, 29. τὰ ἔργα, τὸ ἔργον τ. Θεοῦ. The work belonging to Christ or that commanded by him (cf. Matth. 6: 33) is indeed for the apostle, the furtherance of the plan of salvation and the spread of the gospel (16: 10), but for all Christians the work of love (xónos). εidóτes] introduces the motive, not for following the whole warning (Mey.), but for the regioσúεir x. 7. 2, and this sideva is the conviction of the resurrection, fortified again by the defence of the apostle, in which there lies a reward (v. 32), of which xerós, without fruit, forms the contrast. Er xvoi] belongs, to be sure, not to ó xón. vu. (Thphlet. 1 Oec. 1. Hdrch.), but also not to ouxxɛvós alone (Thphlct. 2. Oec. 2. Mey.), but to the whole clause, cf. 9, 1. Also in the character of this warning lies an argument against the reading v. 49, and the turn of warning thereby introduced.

ARTICLE III.

OF THE NATURAL PROOFS OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE

SOUL.

By George I. Chace, Prof. of Chemistry and Geology, Brown University.

HAVING in the last number of this Review, offered some thoughts upon the constitution of spiritual beings, as exemplified in the inhabitants of our globe, in accordance with a purpose there intimated, we proceed now to consider the question, in which above all others, such beings are interested; viz. that of their continued existence, after the destruction of the corporeal frames with which, in the present state, they are so intimately connected. In the prosecution of this inquiry, our attention will be directed more especially to the spiritual nature or soul of man, as it is that, whose destinies more immediately concern us. However gratifying to our curiosity it might be, to know what becomes of the more humble endowment of spirit, allotted to each one of the lower animals, on the dissolution of their bodies, such knowledge, it is probable, would have no direct bearing upon human interests, and consequently be of comparatively little value.

"If a man die, shall he live again?" has been the great question and too often the despairing question, of the innumerable multitudes of our race, from the time when the first human being looked abroad over the earth, down to the present hour. Priests have taught the doctrine of a future life; poets have sung of it, and philosophers have labored to demonstrate it; but still as each new generation has arisen upon that which preceded it, the question has been again and again repeated, with the same eager interest, and the same uncertain and unsatisfying results. The earliest regular treatise, which has come down to us, on this subject, is the Phaedo of Plato. It was written about four hundred years previous to the commencement of the Christian era. It is in the form of a dialogue, and although composed by Plato, is supposed to embody the arguments of Socrates, his master, whom he makes the principal of the interlocutors. It is a highly elaborate production, uniting to a clearness and vigor of thought rarely equalled, the most finished graces of diction. Cicero, who was a profound admirer of Plato, makes one of the characters, in his Tusculan Questions (I. 11, 24), referring to this work, say: "evolve diligenter ejus eum librum, qui est de animo; amplius quod desideres, nihil erit."

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Proof from the Desire for Knowledge.

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The composition is dramatic in its character, and the scene is laid in the prison of Socrates, where, condemned to drink the hemlock for having corrupted, as it was said, the Athenian youth by his philosophy -more especially by teaching them disrespect for the ancient divinities of their country, and persuading them to substitute new oneshe is waiting the return of the sacred galley, for the execution of his sentence. Under these afflictive circumstances, his friends and disciples gather around him to express their grief and their sympathy, and to offer whatever of consolation his situation may admit. To their surprise they find him calm and cheerful, exhibiting, in his manner and conversation, the same undisturbed serenity which they had been accustomed so much to admire in him, under the ordinary trials and vicissitudes of life. Instead of administering the aid and consolations which they have come to offer, they are soon seated in the attitude of disciples, drinking in, as usual, the lessons of wisdom that proceed from the lips of their great teacher. On the morning of the last day, after the approach of the sacred vessel returning from Delos had been announced, perceiving that his bravery and firmness were still unshaken, they beg to be informed by what considerations he is able to maintain this equanimity, this lofty elevation of soul, so superior to the circumstances by which he is surrounded. In reply, he assures them, that his support comes from the belief that, on departing this life, he shall enter upon a far higher and more glorious existencea belief which not only takes away all dread and fear of death, but awakens within him the liveliest desire to lay aside the encumbrance of the body, and commence that endless progress in virtue and knowledge, for which he thought the soul was destined. Again, they desire to know the grounds of this belief, which is so consolatory to him, and which, if well founded, would not only enable them to meet death with like equanimity, but also serve to mitigate their grief under the irreparable loss they were about to sustain in his removal from them. He then proceeds to unfold, in a series of familiar discourses, the reasons which inspired his own mind with the delightful hope of immortality, and which, if duly considered, he thought could not fail to awaken a similar hope in theirs. He argues the great truth,

1. From the capacity and desire of the soul for knowledge beyond what, in the present life, is attainable. All our knowledge in this life is phenomenal. Of things, we know nothing, and can know nothing. We may note the changes which take place within us. We may observe the events which are occurring around us. We may learn the order of these changes and these events. We may ascertain their conditions, their relations, their connections. We may resolve the VOL. VI. No. 21.

5

particular into the general, and from the general we may deduce the particular. But we cannot trace the phenomena back to the causes in which they originate, the essences from which they are evolved. Now the human mind is not satisfied with this merely relative and finite knowledge. It seeks for something higher and nobler. It aspires to grasp the absolute and the infinite, to comprehend things in their essence as well as their attributes, to know events in their causes as well as in their connections and their order; in a word, to penetrate into the depths of being, and there, beneath the ever-varying appearances, to recognise and apprehend the unchanging realities upon which they depend. This, however, it can never do, so long as it remains shut in on all sides by the body, with no other inlets to knowledge than consciousness and the five senses.

Nor is this all. In the acquisition of those kinds of knowledge which lie within the reach of our present faculties, we meet with various impediments and hindrances, arising from our connection with the body. A large part of our time and strength is necessarily employed in making provision for its constantly returning wants, so that we have but little of either left for the labors of investigation. Its weaknesses, diseases, and infirmities also frequently disqualify us for that high intellectual effort which is necessary for the discovery and apprehension of truth. Moreover, the various passions and desires growing out of our corporeal natures, exert such an influence upon the mind, so blind its perceptions, distort its views, and bias its judgments, that we can rarely place full confidence in its most cautious decisions. But if the soul was made for knowledge, as its desires and capacities plainly indicate, and if in this life, owing to the restraints, impediments and hindrances of the body, it is unable to arrive at it, then it must be destined to survive the body, and to have another and higher life, in which it shall be freed from the clogs and connections at present encumbering it.

2. From the law of contraries. These, in nature, mutually terminate in and produce one another. Sleep begets vigilance, and vigilance sleep. Rest prepares for labor, and labor for rest. Growth leads to decay, and decay to new growth. Beauty springs from ugliness, and ugliness from beauty. Right grows out of wrong, and wrong out of right. Heat terminates in cold, and cold in heat; light in darkness, and darkness in light; unity in plurality, and plurality in unity; simplicity in complexity, and complexity in simplicity; strength in weakness, and weakness in strength; health in sickness, and sickness in health. In like manner life, leading to and terminating in death, death must, in turn, lead to and terminate in life. But this new life

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