attaining any end that has yet been conceived for the war. The idea of
the war as a punishment is quite logical and intelligible, though five
hundred years out of date. But the idea of the war as a medicinal or an
educative process has neither logic nor intelligibility, and does not
even attain that consistency with modern ethical sentiments which it
seeks. The colossal amount of suffering inflicted on innocent people and
on children puts it entirely out of court.

Thirdly, this theory, as I said, raises the question whether the end
justifies the means. Here we have another illustration of the way in
which Christian dogma keeps the Christian conscience in many matters
behind the ethical sentiment of the age. Many liberal divines would
express genuine repugnance at Archbishop Carr's view of the war; yet
some of the most liberal of these divines and laymen are almost as
backward in another direction. They justify the world-process through
which we are struggling on the ground that it will, we hope, issue in a
nobler order of things: of the war, in particular, that hope is
entertained, and to the war, accordingly, this theory of justification
is applied. That is a case of the end justifying the means. Christian
thinkers are advancing so rapidly and erratically that in some cases we
are not clear whether the writer does or does not regard God as infinite
in power and intelligence. We may ignore these few cases. The vast
majority emphatically hold that view. In their regard we can say only
what has been said a hundred times. Whether you speak of the
world-process in general or any particular cruel phase of it, such as
this war, you maintain that God chose, out of many conceivable ways, the
one way that is marked by cruelty and suffering. An infinite God is not
so confined in the choice of means. And just as we say of the
world-process in general, that to build the sunnier lives of a remote
generation on the sufferings of this and earlier generations implies a