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Synopsis

TODAY the medley of outward life has made a perplexity of inward life. We moderns have ruffled our old incertitudes to an absurd point—incertitudes that are older than theology. Not without justification have priests mounted altars for generations and cried, “Oh my soul, why dost thou trouble me?” We are active, restless both in body and mind. Curiosity has replaced blind faith. We go groping, peering, searching, scornful of dogmas, back, Further back to sources. And just as the physicist thrills at the universes he discovers as he works inward in the quest of his electrons, so the average man exults in his apprehension of fundamentals of psychology. New cults spring up, attesting to the Truth—as they see it—countless fleets of Theism, Buchmanism, Theosophy, Bahai’ism, etc., sail under brightly colored flags; and Atheism is flaunting itself on the horizon. Almost the passengers have turned pilots. Everyman is thinking for himself

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