Still others use their brains busily in their religion, but confine them
within carefully restricted limits. Outside these their faith is an
unreasoning assumption. Their mental activity spends itself on the
details of doctrine, while they never try to make clear to themselves
the foundations of their faith. They have keen eyes for theological
niceties, but wear orthodox blinders that shut out all disturbing facts.
Cardinal Newman, for example, declared that dogma was the essential
ingredient of his faith, and that religion as a mere sentiment is a
dream and a mockery. But he was so afraid of "the all-corroding,
all-dissolving skepticism of the intellect in religious inquiries" that
he placed the safeguard of faith in "a right state of heart," and
refused to trust his mind to think its way through to God. Martineau
justly complained that "his certainties are on the surface, and his
uncertainties below." We are only safe as believers when, besides
keeping the heart clean, we

press bold to the tether's end
Allotted to this life's intelligence.

Those, again, who insist that in religion the willingness is all, forget
that it seems no more in our power to believe than it is to love. We
apparently "fall into" the one as we do into the other; we do not choose
to believe, we cannot help believing. And unless a man's mind is
satisfied with the reasonableness of faith, he cannot "make believe."
Romanes, who certainly wished for fellowship with the Christian God as
ardently as any man, confessed: "Even the simplest act of will in regard
to religion--that of prayer--has not been performed by me for at least a
quarter of a century, simply because it has seemed so impossible to
pray, as it were, hypothetically, that much as I have always desired to