same thing, and that is religion itself. But on the question what
religion is, there is no agreement: no definition of religion as
yet--and there have been many attempts to define it--has gained general
acceptance. We may even surmise, and admit, that no attempt ever will be
successful. Such admission, indeed, may at first to some seem equivalent
to admitting that religion is a nullity, and the admission may
accordingly be welcomed or rejected. But a moment's reflection will show
that the admission has no such consequence. None of our simple feelings
can be defined: pleasure and pain can neither be defined; nor, when
experienced, doubted. And some of our general terms, those at any rate
which are ultimate, are beyond our power either to define or doubt: no
one imagines that 'life' can be defined, but no one doubts its
existence. And religion both as a term and as a fact of experience is
ultimate, and, because ultimate, incapable of definition. It is not to
be defined but only to be felt. It is an affair not merely of the
intellect, but still more of the heart.

In what sense, then, can we speak of the evolution of religion?
Evolution implies change; and no one doubts that there have been changes
in religion. No one can imagine that it has from the beginning till now
remained identically the same. What seems conceivable is that throughout
there has been, not identity but continuity--change indeed in continuity
but also continuity in change. The child 'learns to speak the words and
think the ideas, to reproduce the mode of thought, as he does the form
of speech' of the community into which he is born. In the speech,
thought, and feelings--even in the religious feelings--of the community,
from generation to generation, there is continuity, but not identity.
From generation to generation they are not identical but are
continuously changing; and they change because each child who takes them
over reproduces them; and, in reproducing them, changes them, not much