is to inform us of the moral ideal; to transfer it from God’s mind to our mind; to inform us what are the natural
modes of operation, the rules of conduct in our relation with other men. Conscience does this in two ways.
First, by instinctive moral action. Here conscience acts spontaneously and anticipates experience, acts in advance of history, and spontaneously projects an ideal which is derived from the moral instinct of our nature. This is the transcendent way of learning the moral law. And let me add, it is the favourite way of young and enthusiastic persons; the favourite way, likewise, of meditative and contemplative men, who dwell apart from mankind, and look at principles, which are the norm of action, more than at the immediate or ultimate effect of special measures.
The other way is by reflective moral action. Here we learn the moral laws by experiment; by observation, trial, experience, we find out what suits the conscience of the individual and the conscience of mankind. This is the inductive way, and it is the favourite mode of the greht mass of men, practical men who live in the midst of affairs.
Each of these methods has its advantage, both their special limitations and defects. We require both of these,—the process of moral instinct which shoots forward and forecasts the ideal, and the process of moral induction which comes carefully afterwards and studies the facts, and sees what conduct squares with conscience, and how it looks after the act has been done as well as before.
In these two ways we learn the natural mode of operation and the natural rules of conduct which suit our moral nature; that is, we discover the moral laws which are writ in the nature and constitution of man, and are thence historically made known in the consciousness of man.
When they are understood, we see that they are the laws of God, a part of the universe, a part of the purpose of God, a part of the means which He has provided for accomplishing His purpose.
These laws are not of man's making, but of his finding made. He no more makes them than the blacksmith makes the heaviness of his iron, or the astronomer makes the moon eclipse the sun. A man may heed these laws, or heed them not; make them, or unmake them,—that is beyond his power.
