THE PSYCHOLOGY OF BELIEF. 751 



we gain rest in belief often by putting reason out of doors. 

 Maudsley says : " To say that the great majority of men reason 

 in the true sense of the word, is the greatest nonsense in the 

 world ; they get their beliefs as they do their instincts and their 

 habits, as a part of their inherited constitution, of their education, 

 and the routine of their lives." 



That this is true is shown by popular superstitions. Almost 

 every hamlet in Europe has its own ghost story, believed ardent- 

 ly by the local inhabitants, and scoffed at by those of the next 

 village. 



We have insisted that, because belief is a function of the active 

 nature, whatever conduces to greater physical or mental activity 

 will conduce to believing. We are prepared to believe, then, that 

 in joy we believe more than in grief. A low state of mind sor- 

 row, remorse, melancholy is a field where doubts grow rank, but 

 the cheerful, successful, hopeful mind finds belief easy. It is 

 failure that makes us cautious; success emboldens us and like 

 rumor, multiplies as it goes, loosing our fancy and making cred- 

 ible what was but just now impossible. 



Again, inaction kills belief, while action of any sort nourishes 

 it. Phillips Brooks was fond of saying, "Do something with 

 your religion, and your religion will not die." So with all our 

 beliefs. Though it is often bred in our mind by pondering things 

 over, calling up images until they become fixtures, belief is of tener 

 born and nourished in earnest action. Lincoln's life gives a not- 

 able example. In his pioneer days he was a skeptic. Both Lamon 

 and Henderson say that up to the time Lincoln went to Wash- 

 ington as President he was not a professing believer in any 

 Christian faith. But during the days of the war, when Lincoln 

 bore tremendous burdens of action and anxiety, embodying and 

 enforcing the will of the nation, he became thoroughly religious. 

 It is told that in 1864, when the tension was at its highest, and 

 Lincoln's life was like the action of the heart of the whole people, 

 in that time the President was found more than once on his 

 knees at prayer. Lincoln's faith did not come to him by reason- 

 ing, but in the stress and strain of life. He laid hold upon certain 

 great truths with the grip of a hungering and thirsting nature. 

 It is in this way, I believe, that the strongest faith is attained. 

 With his whole nature stretched to its highest tension, no man 

 can avoid conviction. So long as he merely rests, remains in- 

 active, passive, he may get along without a faith ; but when his 

 soul is awakened and his feeling is aroused, believe he must. 



We have seen that in both sets of conditions for belief, physio- 

 logical and psychical, the same thing holds ; because belief is a 

 function of our active nature, whatever stimulates and rouses to 

 action promotes belief. 



