stony coal. You can no more reject the doubt and keep the innermost truth, than you can toss away the coal and hope to retain its fire. This doubt is the insight partially attained.
Such must be our spirit. And now, to apply it at once to the problems before us, where shall we begin our search for a religious truth? We are to find, if possible, some element in Reality that shall have religious significance. But how shall we do this unless we have made clear to ourselves in what sense we know Reality at all? It would seem that our religious philosophy must begin with the problem of all theoretical philosophy: What can be our knowledge of this world, and whereon can this knowledge be founded?
A dark and dismal topic, one may say. But remember, here and here only can our beloved treasure be found buried. Either there is no religious philosophy possible, or it is here; and here we must delve for it. Nor let one be too much terrified at once by the forbidding aspect of the question. It is indeed no easy one; yet to answer it is but to know the real meaning of our own thoughts. This truth that we seek is not in the heavens, nor in the depths; it is nigh us, even in our hearts. Only inattention can be hiding it from us. Let us look closer.
This real world that popular thought declares to exist outside of us — we have so far taken it on trust. But now, what right have we so to take it? What do we mean by it? When we say that we can know it, do we not mean that it is in some way bound to conform to some of our thoughts? Or, if
