hath been taken away even that which he seemed to have," and the good-tidings or Gospel of forgiveness has proved, in this case, "a savour of death unto death." But if he has the germ of faith to begin with, then the Gospel works its natural result: "to him that hath there is added, and he hath more abundantly." "Proceeding from faith" the message of forgiveness tends "to the increase of faith."[1] Insensibly he finds himself raised up from his former position to the level of those who have forgiven him; he is identified with his forgivers in spirit, so that he now sees things as they see them, and for the first time discerns the hatefulness of sin, and hates it as they hate it, and longs to shake it off as a burden alien to his nature. At the same time, finding himself trusted by those in whose truth as well as goodness he himself places trust, he learns a new self-respect even in the moment when he awakens to his past degradation; he has (he feels it to be true) something within him that may be trusted, some possibility of better things which at once springs up into the reality of fulfilment under the warm breath of affectionate and trustful forgiveness. In other words, righteousness is "imputed to him," and he becomes righteous. The gulf between the parental will and himself is now bridged over by a kind of atonement. The relations which he imagined and created for himself before between his parents and himself, were angry justice on the one side, sullen obedience or open disobedience on the other side: all this is now exchanged for an entirely different relationship, love on both sides, kind control from the one, willing, zealous obedience from the other, resulting in perfect peace and in an atmosphere of mutual goodwill, happiness, joy, favour. For this kind of "favour" we have no exact word in English, but in the Greek Testament it is called by a word which we must translate
- ↑ Rom. i. 17.
