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THE RELIGION OF GEOLOGY AND ITS CONNECTED SCIENCES.




[Illustration: SECTION OF THE EARTH'S CRUST.]




  THE RELIGION OF GEOLOGY AND ITS CONNECTED SCIENCES.


  BY EDWARD HITCHCOCK, D. D., LL. D.,
  PRESIDENT OF AMHERST COLLEGE, AND PROFESSOR OF NATURAL THEOLOGY
  AND GEOLOGY.


  "Science has a foundation, and so has religion; let them unite
  their foundations, and the basis will be broader, and they will
  be two compartments of one great fabric reared to the glory of
  God. Let the one be the outer and the other the inner court. In
  the one, let all look, and admire, and adore; and in the other,
  let those who have faith kneel, and pray, and praise. Let the
  one be the sanctuary where human learning may present its richest
  incense as an offering to God; and the other the holiest of all,
  separated from it by a veil now rent in twain, and in which, on a
  blood sprinkled mercy seat, we pour out the love of a reconciled
  heart, and hear the oracles of the living God."--_M'Cosh._


  EIGHTH THOUSAND.

  BOSTON:
  PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, AND COMPANY.
  1854.




  Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by

  PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, & CO.,

  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District
  of Massachusetts.


  STEREOTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.




TO MY BELOVED WIFE.


Both gratitude and affection prompt me to dedicate these lectures to you.
To your kindness and self-denying labors I have been mainly indebted for
the ability and leisure to give any successful attention to scientific
pursuits. Early should I have sunk under the pressure of feeble health,
nervous despondency, poverty, and blighted hopes, had not your sympathies
and cheering counsels sustained me. And during the last thirty years of
professional labors, how little could I have done in the cause of science,
had you not, in a great measure, relieved me of the cares of a numerous
family! Furthermore, while I have described scientific facts with the pen
only, how much more vividly have they been portrayed by your pencil! And
it is peculiarly appropriate that your name should be associated with mine
in any literary effort where the theme is geology; since your artistic
skill has done more than my voice to render that science attractive to the
young men whom I have instructed. I love especially to connect your name
with an effort to defend and illustrate that religion which I am sure is
dearer to you than every thing else. I know that you would forbid this
public allusion to your labors and sacrifices, did I not send it forth to
the world before it meets your eye. But I am unwilling to lose this
opportunity of bearing a testimony which both justice and affection urge
me to give. In a world where much is said of female deception and
inconstancy, I desire to testify that one man at least has placed implicit
confidence in woman, and has not been disappointed. Through many checkered
scenes have we passed together, both on the land and the sea, at home and
in foreign countries; and now the voyage of life is almost ended. The ties
of earthly affection, which have so long united us in uninterrupted
harmony and happiness, will soon be sundered. But there are ties which
death cannot break; and we indulge the hope that by them we shall be
linked together and to the throne of God through eternal ages.

  In life and in death I abide
    Your affectionate husband,
      EDWARD HITCHCOCK.




PREFACE.


Most of the following lectures were written as much as eight or ten years
ago, though additions and alterations have been made, from time to time,
to adapt them to the progress of science. They were undertaken at the
suggestion of my friend, Rev. Henry Neill, then of Hatfield, now of Lenox.
I had no definite intention as to the use to be made of the lectures; but
having for many years turned my attention to the bearings of science, and
especially of geology, upon religion, I felt a desire to put upon paper
the final results of my examinations. I threw them into the lecture form,
that I might, if best, deliver them to the geological classes which I
should instruct in the college with which I am connected. This I have done
for many years, and also have used them in various places before lyceums.
They are at length published, from a conviction that something of the
kind, from some quarter, is needed. Many of the thoughts, indeed, which,
at the time they were put upon paper, were original, have since been
brought out by other writers. Yet enough of this description probably
remain to expose me to severe criticism. I beg the intelligent Christian,
however, before he condemns my views, to settle it in his mind what he can
substitute for them that will be more honorable to religion. It is much
easier to find fault with a mode of defending the truth than to invent a
better method. We may not be pleased with certain views in vindication of
religion, and yet the alternative of rejecting them may be so much worse
as to lead us at least to be silent. Would that Christian critics had
always kept this fact in mind when writing upon the views of geologists!
They would find often that they are straining at a gnat and must swallow a
camel.

If my views are erroneous, as exhibited in these lectures, I cannot plead
that they have been hastily adopted. Most of them, indeed, have been the
subjects of thought occasionally for thirty years. I hope, however, that
all my suggestions will not be thought of equal importance in my own
estimation; since some of them are merely hypothetical hints thrown out
for the consideration of abler minds.

This work does not exhibit quite so much of logical exactness as I could
wish. But my leading object has been fully carried out, viz., to exhibit
all the religious bearings of geology. Several of the lectures, however,
have been written as if independent of all the rest; and, therefore, the
reader will find some leading thoughts repeated, but always in different
connections.

After acknowledging that more than a quarter of a century has elapsed
since this subject first engaged my attention, it may be useless for me to
ask any indulgence from criticism. But really, I feel less prepared to
write upon it than I did during the first five years in which I studied
it. I have learnt that it is a most difficult subject. It requires, in
order to master it, an acquaintance with three distinct branches of
knowledge, not apt to go together. First, an acquaintance with geology in
all its details, and with the general principles of zoology, botany, and
comparative anatomy; secondly, a knowledge of sacred hermeneutics, or the
principles of interpreting the Scriptures; thirdly, a clear conception of
the principles of natural and revealed religion.

As examples of efforts made by men who were deficient in a knowledge of
some of these branches, I am compelled to quote a large proportion of the
works which, within the last thirty or forty years, have been written on
the religion of geology; especially on its connection with revealed
religion. I am happy to except such writers as Dr. J. Pye Smith, Dr.
Chalmers, Dr. Harris, Dr. Buckland, Professor Sedgwick, Professor Whewell,
Dr. King, Dr. Anderson, and Hugh Miller; for they, to a greater or less
extent, acquainted themselves with all the subjects named above, before
they undertook to write. But a still larger number of authors, although
men of talents, and familiar, it may be, with the Bible and theology, had
no accurate knowledge of geology. The results have been, first, that, by
resorting to denunciation and charges of infidelity, to answer arguments
from geology which they did not understand, they have excited unreasonable
prejudices and alarm among common Christians respecting that science and
its cultivators; secondly, they have awakened disgust, and even contempt,
among scientific men, especially those of sceptical tendencies, who have
inferred that a cause which resorts to such defences must be very weak.
They have felt very much as a good Greek scholar would, who should read a
severe critique upon the style of Isocrates, or Demosthenes, and, before
he had finished the review, should discover internal evidence that the
writer had never learnt the Greek alphabet.

On the other hand, prejudices and disgust equally strong have been
produced in the mind of many a man well versed in theology and biblical
exegesis by some productions of scientific men upon the religious bearings
of geology, because they advanced principles which the merest tyro in
divinity would know to be false and fatal to religion, and which they
advocated only because they had never studied the Bible or theology.

And here I would remark that it does not follow, because a man is eminent
in geology, that his opinion is of any value upon the religion of geology.
For the two subjects are quite distinct, and a man may be a Coryphaeus in
the principles of geology, who is an ignoramus in its religious
applications. Indeed, many of the ablest writers upon geology take the
ground that its religious bearings do not belong to the science.

These statements, instead of pleading my apology for the following work,
may only show my temerity and vanity. Nevertheless, they afford me an
opportunity of calling the attention of the religious public to the great
inadequacy of the means now possessed of acquiring a knowledge of the
different branches of natural science. I refer especially to comparative
anatomy, zoology, botany, and geology, in our literary and theological
seminaries. The latter, so far as I know, do not pretend to give any
instruction in these branches. And in our colleges that instruction is
confined almost entirely to a few brief courses of lectures; often so few
that the students scarcely find out how ignorant they are of the subjects;
and hence those who are expecting to enter the sacred ministry vainly
imagine that, at almost any period of their future course, they can, in a
few weeks, become sufficiently acquainted with physical science to meet
and refute the sceptic. In all our seminaries, however, abundant provision
is made, as it ought to be, for the study of intellectual philosophy and
biblical interpretation.

So well satisfied are two of the most enlightened and efficient Christian
denominations in Great Britain--the Congregationalists and the Scottish
Free Church--of the need of more extensive acquaintance with the natural
sciences in ministers of the gospel, that they have attached a
professorship of natural history to their theological seminaries. That in
the New College in Edinburgh is filled by the venerable Dr. Fleming; that
in the New College in London by Dr. Lankester. From a syllabus of Dr.
Fleming's course of lectures, which he put into my hands last summer, I
perceive that it differs little from the instruction in natural science in
the colleges of our country. This being the case, it strikes me that this
is not exactly the professorship that is needed in the theological
seminaries of our country. But they do need, it seems to me,
professorships of natural theology, to be filled by men who are
practically familiar with the natural sciences. If any such chairs exist
in these seminaries, I do not know it. They are amply provided with
instruction in the metaphysics of theology, hermeneutics, and
ecclesiastical history; and I should be sorry to see these departments
less amply provided for. But here is the wide field of natural theology,
large enough for several professorships, which finds no place, save a nook
in the chair of dogmatics. This might have answered well enough when the
battle-field with scepticism lay in the region of metaphysics, or history,
or biblical interpretation. But the enemy have, within a few years past,
intrenched themselves within the dominions of natural science; and there,
for a long time to come, must be the tug of the war. And since they have
substituted skeletons, and trees, and stones, as weapons, in the place of
abstractions, so must Christians do, if they would not be defeated. Let me
refer to a few examples to show how inadequately furnished the minister
must be for such a contest, who has used only the means of instruction
provided in our existing seminaries, literary and theological.

Take the leading points discussed in the following lectures. How can a man
who has heard only a brief and hurried course of thirty lectures on
chemistry, twenty on anatomy and physiology, fifteen upon zoology, ten
upon botany, ten upon mineralogy, and twenty upon geology, at the college,
with no additional instruction at the theological seminary,--how can he
judge correctly of points and reasoning difficult to be mastered by adepts
in these sciences? How certain to be worsted in an argument with an
accomplished naturalist who is a sceptic!

Suppose the sceptic takes the ground advocated by Oken and the author of
the "Vestiges." Let the clergyman, whom I have supposed, read the works of
Miller and Sedgwick in reply to the development hypothesis, and see
whether he can even understand their arguments without a more careful
study of the sciences on which they rest.

A subject of no small importance in its religious bearings has recently
excited a good deal of sharp discussion in this country. I refer to the
questions of the specific unity and unity of origin of the human race. To
a person who has never studied the subject, it seems a matter easy to
settle; yet, in fact, it demands extensive research even to understand.
And we have seen one of the most accomplished zoologists and anatomists of
the present age take ground on these points in opposition to the almost
universal opinion. The result has been that not a few talented replies to
his arguments have appeared, mostly, I believe, from ministers. I have not
seen them all. But in respect to those which I have read it has seemed to
me, without having the least sympathy with the views of Professor Agassiz,
that the authors have not the most remote conception of the principal
arguments on which he relies, derived from zoology and comparative
anatomy; nor do I believe that they can understand and appreciate them
until they have studied those sciences.[1]

Although I fear that theologians are not aware of the fact, yet probably
the doctrines of materialism are more widely embraced at this day than
almost any other religious error. But in which of our schools, save the
medical, is there any instruction given in physiology and zoology, that
will prepare a man to make the least headway against such delusions? The
arguments by which materialism is defended are among the most subtle in
the whole range of theology and natural science; and without a knowledge
of the latter they can neither be appreciated nor refuted. The mere
metaphysical abstractions by which they are usually met excite only the
contempt of the acute physiologist who is a materialist.

I might refer, in this connection, to the whole subject of pantheism, in
its chameleon forms. The rhapsodies of spiritual pantheism must, indeed,
be met by metaphysics equally transcendental. But, after all, it is from
biology that the pantheist derives his choicest weapons. He appeals, also,
to astronomy, zoology, and geology; nor is it the superficial naturalist
that can show how hollow is the foundation on which he rests.

These are only a few examples of the points of physical science on which
scepticism at this moment has batteries erected with which to assail
spiritual religion. Will the minister but slightly familiar with the
ground chosen by the enemy be able not only to silence his guns, but, as
every able defender of the truth ought to do, to turn them against its
foes? Surely it needs a professor of natural theology in our theological
seminaries, (and if such chairs existed in our colleges they would be
serviceable,) to teach those who expect to be officers in the sacramental
host how to carry on the holy war. I do not see how much more time can be
given to the natural sciences in our colleges than is usually done,
without encroaching upon other indispensable branches. If, therefore,
provision be not made for studying the religious bearings of these
sciences in our theological seminaries, our youthful evangelists must go
forth to their work without the ability to vindicate the cause of religion
against the assaults of the sceptical naturalist. Would not, then, those
wealthy and benevolent individuals be great public benefactors, who should
endow professorships of natural religion in our schools of the prophets?

But I must not pursue this subject farther. I commit my work to the public
with no raised expectations of its welcome reception. I have a high
opinion of the enlightened candor of, the educated classes of our country,
especially those in the ministry. Yet I know that many prejudices exist
against science in its connections with religion. And, therefore, my only
hope of any measure of success in this effort rests upon the divine
blessing. But if the work be not pleasing to Infinite Wisdom and
Benevolence, why should I desire for it an ephemeral success among men?

AMHERST COLLEGE, May 1, 1851.




EXPLANATION OF THE FRONTISPIECE.


This section of the earth's crust is intended to bring under the eye the
leading features of geology.


1. _The relative Position of the Stratified and the Unstratified Rocks._

The unstratified rocks, viz., granite, sienite, porphyry, trap, and lava,
are represented as lying beneath the stratified class, for the most part,
yet piercing through them in the centre of the section, and by several
dikes or veins, through which masses have been protruded to the surface.
The unstratified class are all  red, to indicate their igneous
origin. Granite seems to have been first melted and protruded, and it
continued to be pushed upward till the close of the secondary period of
the stratified rocks, as is shown by the vein of granite on the section.
Sienite and porphyry seem to have been next thrust up, from below the
granite; next, the varieties of trap were protruded from beneath the
porphyry; and last, the lava, which still continues to be poured out upon
the surface from beneath all the rest.


2. _The Stratified Rocks._

The stratified rocks represented on both flanks of the granite peak in the
section, appear to have been deposited from water, and subsequently more
or less lifted up, fractured, and bent. An attempt is made, on the right
hand side of the section, to exhibit the foldings and inclination of the
strata. The lowest are bent the most, and their dip is the greatest; and,
as a general fact, there is a gradual approach to horizontality as we rise
on the scale.


3. _The right hand side of the Section._

The strata on the right hand are divided into five classes: first and
lowest, the _crystalline_, or _primary_, destitute of organic remains, and
probably metamorphosed from a sedimentary to a crystalline state, by the
action of subjacent heat. 2. The _palaeozoic class_, or those containing
the earliest types of animals and plants, and of vast thickness, mostly
deposited in the ocean. 3. _The secondary class_, reaching from the top of
the lower new red or Permian system, to the top of the chalk. 4. _The
tertiary strata_, partially consolidated, and differing entirely from the
rocks below by their organic contents. 5. _Alluvium_, or strata now in a
course of deposition. This classification is sometimes convenient, and
frequently used by geologists.


4. _The left hand Side._

On the left hand side of the section the strata are so divided as to
correspond to the six great groups of animals and plants that have
appeared on the globe. The names attached to the groups are derived from
[Greek: zoos] (_vivus_, living,) with the Greek numerals prefixed. The
lowest group, being destitute of organic remains, is called _azoic_, (from
[Greek: a] privitive and [Greek: zoos],) that is, wanting in the traces of
life; and corresponds to the crystalline group on the other side of the
section, embracing gneiss, mica slate, limestone, and clay slate, of
unknown thickness. The _protozoic group_ corresponds to the palaeozoic of
the right hand side, and embraces lower and upper Silurian, Devonian, or
old red sandstone, the carboniferous group, and the Permian, or lower new
red; the whole in Great Britain not less than thirty-three thousand feet
thick. The _deutozoic group_ consists only of the triassic, or upper new
red sandstone, and is only nine hundred feet thick, but marks a distinct
period of life. The _tritozoic_ embraces the lias and oolite, with the
Wealden, and is three thousand six hundred feet thick. The _tetrazoic_
consists of the chalk and green sand, one thousand five hundred feet
thick. The _pentezoic_ embraces the tertiary strata of the thickness of
two thousand feet. The _hectozoic_ is confined to the modern deposits,
only a few hundred feet thick, but entombing all the existing species of
animals.


5. _Characteristic Organic Remains._

Had space permitted, I should have put upon the section a reference to the
most characteristic and peculiar mineral, animal, or plant, in the
different groups. Thus the azoic group is _crystalliferous_, or
crystal-bearing. The lower or Silurian part of the protozoic group is
_brachiopodiferous_, _trilobiferous_, _polypiferous_, and
_cephalopodiferous_; that is, abounding in brachiopod and cephalopod
shells; in polypifers, or corals; and in trilobites, a family of
crustaceans. The middle part, or the Devonian, is _thaumichthiferous_, or
containing remarkable fish. The upper part, or the coal measures, is
_carboniferous_; that is, abounding in coal. _The deutozoic group_ is
_ichniferous_, or track-bearing, from the multitude of its fossil
footmarks. The _tritozoic group_ is _reptiliferous_, or reptile-bearing,
from the extraordinary lizards which abound in it. The _tetrazoic_ is
_foraminiferous_, from the abundance of coral animalcula, called
foraminifera, or polythalmia, which it contains. The _pentezoic_ is
_mammaliferous_, because it contains the remains of mammalia, or
quadrupeds. The _hectozoic_ is _homoniferous_, or man-bearing, because it
embraces human remains.

There is no one place on earth where all the facts exhibited on this
section are presented before us together. Yet all the facts occur
somewhere, and this section merely brings them into systematic
arrangement.




CONTENTS.


                                                                Page

  LECTURE I.
    REVELATION ILLUSTRATED BY SCIENCE,                             1

  LECTURE II.
    THE EPOCH OF THE EARTH'S CREATION UNREVEALED,                 33

  LECTURE III.
    DEATH A UNIVERSAL LAW OF ORGANIC BEINGS ON THIS GLOBE
    FROM THE BEGINNING,                                           71

  LECTURE IV.
    THE NOACHIAN DELUGE COMPARED WITH THE GEOLOGICAL DELUGES,    112

  LECTURE V.
    THE WORLD'S SUPPOSED ETERNITY,                               146

  LECTURE VI.
    GEOLOGICAL PROOFS OF THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE,                 179

  LECTURE VII.
    DIVINE BENEVOLENCE AS EXHIBITED IN A FALLEN WORLD,           219

  LECTURE VIII.
    UNITY OF THE DIVINE PLAN AND OPERATION IN ALL AGES OF THE
    WORLD'S HISTORY,                                             252

  LECTURE IX.
    THE HYPOTHESIS OF CREATION BY LAW,                           285

  LECTURE X.
    SPECIAL AND MIRACULOUS PROVIDENCE,                           327

  LECTURE XI.
    THE FUTURE CONDITION AND DESTINY OF THE EARTH,               370

  LECTURE XII.
    THE TELEGRAPHIC SYSTEM OF THE UNIVERSE,                      409

  LECTURE XIII.
    THE VAST PLANS OF JEHOVAH,                                   445

  LECTURE XIV.
    SCIENTIFIC TRUTH, RIGHTLY APPLIED, IS RELIGIOUS TRUTH,       476




THE RELIGION OF GEOLOGY.




LECTURE I.

REVELATION ILLUSTRATED BY SCIENCE.


The leading object, which I propose in the course of lectures which I now
commence, is to develop the relations between geology and religion. This
cannot be done fully and fairly, however, without exhibiting also many of
the religious bearings of several other sciences. I shall, therefore, feel
justified in drawing illustrations and arguments from any department of
human knowledge which may afford them. I place geology first and most
conspicuous on the list, because I know of no other branch of physical
science so prolific in its religious applications.

In treating of this subject, I shall first exhibit the relations between
science and revealed religion, and afterwards between science and natural
religion; though in a few cases these two great branches cannot be kept
entirely distinct.

Geology is usually regarded as having only an unfavorable bearing upon
revealed religion; and writers are generally satisfied if they can
reconcile apparent discrepancies. But I regard this as an unfair
representation; for if geology, or any other science, proves to us that
we have not fairly understood the meaning of any passage of Scripture, it
merely illustrates, but does not oppose, revelation.

A fundamental principle of Protestant Christianity is, that the Scriptures
of the Old and New Testaments are the only infallible standard of
religious truth; and I desire to hold up this principle prominently at the
outset, as one to which I cordially subscribe. The mass of evidence in
favor of the divine inspiration of the Bible is too great to be set aside
by any thing short of scientific demonstration. Were the Scriptures to
teach that the whole is not equal to its parts, the mind could not,
indeed, believe it. But if it taught a truth which was only contrary to
the probable deductions of science, science, I say, must yield to
Scripture; for it would be more reasonable to doubt the probabilities of a
single science, than the various and most satisfactory evidence on which
revelation rests. I do not believe that even the probabilities of any
science are in collision with Scripture. But the supposition is made to
show how strong are my convictions of the evidence and paramount authority
of the Bible.

But does it follow, from these positions, that science can throw no light
upon the truths of Scripture? By no means; and it will be my leading
object, in this lecture, to show how this may be done by science in
general, and by geology in particular.

In discussing this subject, we ought to bear in mind the object of
science, and the object of revelation. And by the term science I refer
mainly to physical science. Its grand aim is, by an induction from facts,
to discover the laws by which the material universe is governed. Those
laws do, indeed, lead the mind almost necessarily to their divine Author.
But this is rather the incidental than the direct result of scientific
investigations, and belongs rather to natural theology than to natural
science.

On the other hand, the exclusive object of revelation is of a moral
character. It is a development of the divine character and the divine
government; especially that part of it which discloses a plan for the
reconciliation of a lost and wicked world to the favor of God by the death
of his Son. Every other subject mentioned in Scripture is incidental, and
would not have been noticed had it not some connection with the plan of
salvation. The creation of the world and the Noachian deluge, for
instance, are intimately related to the divine character and government,
and therefore they are described; and the same is true of the various
phenomena of nature which are touched upon in the Bible.

If these positions be correct, it follows, that as we ought not to expect
to find the doctrines of religion in treatises on science, so it is
unreasonable to look for the principles of philosophy in the Bible. Nay,
we ought not to expect to find the terms used by the Sacred writers
employed in their strict scientific sense, but in their popular
acceptation. Indeed, as the Scriptures were generally addressed to men in
the earliest and most simple states of society, with very limited views of
the extent of creation, we ought to suppose that, in all cases where no
new fact is revealed, the language was adapted to the narrow ideas which
then prevailed. When, for instance, the sacred writers speak of the rising
and setting of the sun, we cannot suppose they used language with
astronomical correctness, but only according to appearances. Hence we
ought not to be very confident, that when they employ the term _earth_,
they meant that spherical, vast globe which astronomy proves the earth to
be, but rather that part of it which was inhabited, which was all the idea
that entered into the mind of a Jew. God might, indeed, have revealed new
scientific as well as religious truth. But there is no evidence that in
this way he has anticipated a single modern discovery. This would have
been turning aside from the much more important object he had in view,
viz., to teach the world religious truth. Such being the case, the
language employed to describe natural phenomena must have been adapted to
the state of knowledge among the people to whom the Scriptures were
addressed.

Another inference from these premises is, that there may be an apparent
contradiction between the statements of science and revelation. Revelation
may describe phenomena according to apparent truth, as when it speaks of
the rising and setting of the sun, and the immobility of the earth; but
science describes the same according to the actual truth, as when it gives
a real motion to the earth, and only an apparent motion to the heavens.
Had the language of revelation been scientifically accurate, it would have
defeated the object for which the Scriptures were given; for it must have
anticipated scientific discovery, and therefore have been unintelligible
to those ignorant of such discoveries. Or if these had been explained by
inspiration, the Bible would have become a text-book in natural science,
rather than a guide to eternal life.

The final conclusion from these principles is, that since science and
revelation treat of the same subjects only incidentally, we ought only to
expect that the facts of science, rightly understood, should not
contradict the statements of revelation, correctly interpreted. Apparent
discrepancies there may be; and it would not be strange, if for a time
they should seem to be real; either because science has not fully and
accurately disclosed the facts, or the Bible is not correctly
interpreted; but if both records are from God, there can be no real
contradiction between them. But, on the other hand, we have no reason to
expect any remarkable coincidences, because the general subject and object
of the two records are so unlike. Should such coincidences occur, however,
they will render it less probable that any apparent disagreement is real.

If the positions taken in these preliminary remarks be correct, it will
follow, that in judging of the agreement or disagreement between
revelation and science, it is important, in the first place, that we
rightly understand the Bible; and, in the second place, that we carefully
ascertain what are the settled and demonstrated principles of science. An
examination of these points will constitute the remainder of this lecture.

The meaning of the Scriptures is to be determined in the same way as the
meaning of any other book written in similar circumstances. Its
inspiration puts no bar in the way of the most rigid application of the
rules of criticism, nor renders it unnecessary to seek for light in
whatever quarter it can be obtained. The rules of grammatical and
rhetorical construction, the study of contemporary writers, a knowledge of
the history, customs, opinions, and prejudices of the times, and other
circumstances that need not be mentioned, become important means of
attaining the true _usus loquendi_, or principle of interpretation. But I
pass by all these on the present occasion, because no one doubts their
importance in rightly understanding the Bible. I maintain that scientific
discoveries furnish us with another means of its correct interpretation,
where it describes natural phenomena. And in this position we shall not
probably find an entire unanimity of opinion. Let us, therefore, proceed
to examine its truth.

It will not be denied that modern science has corrected the opinions of
men in regard to very many natural phenomena. The same term that conveyed
one idea to an ancient reader, or hearer, of the Bible, often conveys an
opposite meaning to a modern ear. And yet that term may be very proper to
use in modern times, if understood to express only apparent, and not real
truth. The Jew understood it to mean the latter; and it would seem as if
we might employ modern scientific discovery to enable us to decide in
which sense the Bible did use the term. For if we admit the Jew to have
been correct in his interpretation, then we bring revelation into direct
collision with the demonstrations of physics.

But facts are vastly more satisfactory in deciding this question than
reasoning, and I shall now proceed to adduce some examples in which modern
scientific discovery has thrown light upon the meaning of the Bible.

For one or two examples I appeal to chemistry. In the book of Proverbs,
(chap. 25, v. 20,) we find it said, that _as vinegar upon nitre, so is he
that singeth songs to a heavy heart_. We should expect from this statement
that when we put vinegar upon what we call nitre, it would produce some
commotion analogous to the excitement of song-singing. But we should try
the experiment in vain; for no effect whatever would be produced. Again,
it is said by the prophet Jeremiah, (chap. 2, v. 22,) _Though thou wash
thee with nitre, and take thee much soap, yet thine iniquity is marked
before me, saith the Lord._ Here, too, we should expect that the use of
the nitre would increase the purifying power of the soap; but the
experiment would prove rather the reverse. The chemist, however, informs
us that there is a substance, viz., the _carbonate of soda_, which, if
substituted for the nitre, would effervesce with vinegar, and aid the
purifying power of soap, and thus strikingly illustrate the thought both
of Solomon and Jeremiah. And on recurring to the original, we find that
[Hebrew] (nether, _nitrum_, _natrum_) does not necessarily mean the salt
which we call nitre, but rather a fossil alkali, the _natron_ of the
ancients, and the carbonate of soda of the moderns.

It is probably the prevailing opinion among intelligent Christians at this
time, and has been the opinion of many commentators, that when Peter
describes the future destruction of the world, he means that its solid
substance, and indeed that of the whole material universe, will be utterly
consumed or annihilated by fire. This opinion rests upon the common belief
that such is the effect of combustion. But chemistry informs us, that no
case of combustion, how fiercely soever the fire may rage, annihilates the
least particle of matter; and that fire only changes the form of
substances. Nay, there is no reason whatever to suppose that one particle
of matter has been annihilated since the world began. The chemist moreover
asserts that all the solid parts of the globe have already undergone
combustion, and that although heat may melt them, it cannot burn them. Nor
is there any thing upon or within the earth capable of combustion, but
vegetables, and animals, and a few gases. Has Peter, then, made a mistake
because he did not understand modern chemistry? We have only to examine
his language carefully, as it seems to me, in order to be satisfied that
he means only, that whatsoever upon, or within, the earth, is combustible,
will be burned up at the final conflagration; and that the whole globe,
the _elements_, _will melt with fervent heat_. He nowhere asserts, or
implies, that one particle of matter will be annihilated by that
catastrophe. Thus science, instead of proving his statements to be
erroneous, only enables us more correctly to understand them.

Scarcely any truth seems more clearly taught in the Bible than the future
resurrection of the body. Yet this doctrine has always been met by a most
formidable objection. It is said that the body laid in the grave is ere
long decomposed into its elements, which are scattered over the face of
the earth, and enter into new combinations, even forming a part of other
human bodies. Hence not even Omnipotence can raise from the grave the
identical body laid there, because the particles may enter successively
into a multitude of other human bodies. I am not aware that any successful
reply has ever been given to this objection, until chemistry and natural
history taught us the true nature of bodily identity; and until recently
the objector has felt sure that he had triumphed. But these sciences teach
us that the identity of the body consists, not in a sameness of particles,
but in the same kinds of elementary matter, combined in the same
proportion, and having the same form and structure. Hence it is not
necessary that the resurrection body should contain a single particle of
the matter laid in the grave, in order to be the same body; which it will
be if it consist of the same kinds of matter combined in the same
proportions, and has the same form and structure. For the particles of our
bodies are often totally changed during our lives; yet no one imagines
that the old man has not the same body as in infancy.[2] What but the
principles of science could have thus vindicated a precious doctrine of
revelation?

In the description which Paul gives of the spiritual body, a
naturalist,--and I fancy no one but a naturalist,--will discover its
specific identity. By this I mean that it will possess peculiarities that
distinguish it from every thing else, but which are so closely related to
the characteristics of the natural body in this world, from which it was
derived, that one acquainted with the latter would recognize the former.
Hence the Christian's friends in another world may be recognized by him
from their external characters, just as we identify the plants and animals
of spring with those that seemed to perish in the preceding autumn. There
is neither time nor room for the proof of this exegesis, which is founded
chiefly upon the principles of natural history; but for their elucidation,
I must refer to another place.[3]

I take my next example from meteorology. It was the opinion of the
ancients that the earth, at a certain height, was surrounded by a
transparent hollow sphere of solid matter, which they called the
firmament. When rain descended, they supposed it was through windows, or
holes, made in this crystalline curtain suspended in mid heaven. To these
notions the language of the Bible is frequently conformed. In the account
of the creation, in Genesis, we have a description of the formation of
this firmament, and how it divided the waters below it, viz., the ocean,
lakes, and rivers, from the waters above it, viz., the clouds. Again, in
the account of the deluge, the windows of heaven are said to have been
opened. But it is hardly necessary to say, that meteorology has shown
that no such solid firmament exists over our heads; that, in fact, nothing
but one homogeneous, transparent atmosphere encloses the earth, in which
the clouds float at different altitudes at different times. Are we, then,
to suppose that the sacred writers meant to teach as certain truth, the
fiction of a solid firmament; or that on this subject they conformed their
language to the prevailing belief, because it was not their object to
teach philosophy, meaning neither to assert nor to deny the existence of a
solid firmament, but using language that was optically, although not
physically, correct, and which, therefore, conformed to the general
belief? It is doubtful whether any thing but scientific discovery could
enable us to decide this question. But since it is certain that the solid
firmament does not exist, we must admit that the Bible did not intend to
teach its existence, or allow it to teach a falsehood; and since we know
that it does often speak, in natural things, according to apparent, and
not real truth, it is most reasonable to give such a construction to its
language in the present instance.

But the most decisive example I have to give on this subject is derived
from astronomy. Until the time of Copernicus, no opinion respecting
natural phenomena was thought more firmly established, than that the earth
is fixed immovably in the centre of the universe, and that the heavenly
bodies move diurnally around it. To sustain this view, the most decided
language of Scripture could be quoted. God is there said to have
_established the foundations of the earth, so that they could not be
removed forever_; and the sacred writers expressly declare that the sun
and other heavenly bodies _arise and set_, and nowhere allude to any
proper motion in the earth. And those statements corresponded exactly to
the testimony of the senses. Men felt the earth to be immovably firm
under their feet, and when they looked up, they saw the heavenly bodies
in motion. What bold impiety, therefore, did it seem, even to men of
liberal and enlightened minds, for any one to rise up and assert that all
this testimony of the Bible and of the senses was to be set aside! It is
easy to conceive with what strong jealousy the friends of the Bible would
look upon the new science which was thus arraying itself in bold defiance
of inspiration, and how its votaries would be branded as infidels in
disguise. We need not resort to Catholic intolerance to explain how it
was, that the new doctrine of the earth's motion should be denounced as
the most fatal heresy, as alike contrary to Scripture and sound
philosophy, and that even the venerable Galileo should be forced to recant
it upon his knees. What though the astronomer stood ready with his
diagrams and formulas to demonstrate the motion of the earth; who would
calmly and impartially examine the claims of a scientific discovery,
which, by its very announcement, threw discredit upon the Bible and the
senses, and contradicted the unanimous opinion of the wise and good,--of
all mankind, indeed,--through all past centuries? Rather would the
distinguished theologians of the day set their ingenuity at work to frame
an argument in opposition to the dangerous neology, that should fall upon
it like an avalanche, and grind it to powder. And to show you how firm and
irresistible such an argument would seem, we need no longer tax the
imagination; for Francis Turretin, a distinguished Protestant professor of
theology, whose writings have even to the present day sustained no mean
reputation, has left us an argument on the subject, compacted and arranged
according to the nicest rules of logic, and which he supposed would stand
unrefuted as long as the authority of the Bible should be regarded among
men. He propounds the inquiry, "Do the sun and moon move in the heavens
and revolve around the earth, while the earth remains at rest?" This he
affirms, "in opposition to certain philosophers," and sustains his
position by the following arguments: "First. The sun is said [in
Scripture] to move in the heavens, and to rise and set. (Ps. 19, v. 5.)
The sun is _as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a
strong man to run a race_. (Ps. 104, v. 19.) _The sun knoweth his going
down._ (Eccles. 1, v. 5.) _The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down._
Secondly. The sun, by a miracle, stood still in the time of Joshua.
(Joshua, ch. 10, v. 12, 13, 14,) and by a miracle it went back in the time
of Hezekiah. (Isa. ch. 38, v. 8.) Thirdly. The earth is said to be _fixed
immovably_. (Ps. 93, v. 1.) _The world also is established, that it cannot
be moved._ (Ps. 104, v. 5.) _Who laid the foundations of the earth, that
it should not be removed forever._ (Ps. 119, v. 90, 91.) _Thou hast
established the earth, and it abideth. They continue this day according to
thine ordinances._ Fourthly. Neither could birds, which often fly off
through an hour's circuit, be able to return to their nests; for in the
mean time the earth would move four hundred and fifty of our miles.
Fifthly. Whatever flies or is suspended in the air ought [by this theory]
to move from west to east; but this is proved not to be true from birds,
arrows shot forth, atoms made manifest in the sun, and down floating in
the atmosphere."

If it be replied to this reasoning that the Scripture, in natural things,
speaks according to the common opinion, Turretin answers, "First, that the
spirit of God best understands natural things; secondly, that, in giving
instruction in religion, he meant these things should be used, not abused;
thirdly, that he is not the author of any error; fourthly, neither is he
to be corrected on this pretence by our blind reason."

If it be replied that birds, the air, and all things are moved with the
earth, he answers, "First, that this is a mere fiction, since air is a
fluid body; and secondly, if so, by what force would birds be able to go
from east to west."--_Compendium Theologicae Didactico-Elencticae_,
(Amsterdam, 1695.)

In the present state of knowledge we may smile at some of these arguments;
but to men who had been taught to believe, as in a self-evident principle,
that the earth was immovable and the heavenly bodies in motion, the most
of them must have been entirely satisfactory; and especially must the
Scriptures have seemed in _point blank_ opposition to the astronomical
heresy. What, then, has so completely annihilated this argument, that now
the merest schoolboy would be ashamed to advocate it? The clear
demonstrations of science have done it. Not only has the motion of the
earth been established, but it has been made equally obvious that this
truth is in entire harmony with the language of Scripture; so that neither
the infidel nor the Christian ever suspect, on this ground, any collision
between the two records. So soon as the philologist perceived that there
was no escape from the astronomical demonstration, he was led to reexamine
his interpretation of Scripture, and found that the whole difficulty lay
in his assuming that the sacred writers intended to teach scientific
instead of popular truth. Only admitting that they spoke of astronomical
phenomena, according to appearances and in conformity to common opinion,
and their language became perfectly proper. It conveyed no error, and is
in fact as well adapted now as ever to the common intercourse of life.
Yet, in consequence of the scientific discovery, that language conveys
quite a different meaning to our minds from what it did to those who
supposed it to teach a scientific truth. Hence it strikingly illustrates
the value of scientific discovery in enabling us rightly to understand the
Bible.

Is it necessary to quote any more examples to establish the principle that
scientific discovery is one of the means which the philologist should
employ in the interpretation of Scripture? And if the principle has been
found of service in chemistry, meteorology, and astronomy, why should it
be neglected in the case of geology? Why should not this science also,
which has probably more important religious bearings than any other, be
appealed to in illustration of the meaning of Scripture, when phenomena
are described of which geology takes cognizance? I know that some will
reply, that the principles of geology are yet too unsettled to be allowed
to modify the interpretation of the Bible. This brings me to the second
part of my subject, in which I am to inquire whether the principles of
physical science, and of geology in particular, are so far settled that we
can feel ourselves upon firm ground as we compare them with the principles
of revelation.

Before proceeding to this part of the subject, however, I must pause a
moment, in order to point out another mode, in which science may
contribute to elucidate Scripture. In the way just described, it may
enable the interpreter more correctly to understand the language, but it
may also give a fuller illustration to the sentiments of the Bible.
Revelation, for instance, represents God as benevolent. Now, if we can
derive from the records of geology striking and hitherto unthought-of
manifestations of this attribute, we shall make the doctrine of Scripture
more impressive; or, if we appeal to the numerous changes which the earth
has undergone, and the vast periods which they have occupied, we find that
the unsearchableness of divine wisdom, and the vastness of the divine
plans, are brought more vividly before the mind, and task its power of
comprehension more than illustrations from any other quarter. In short,
the principles of religion that derive important elucidation from science,
and especially from geology, are very numerous, as I hope to show in
subsequent lectures. But I now return to the inquiry, whether the
principles of science, and especially of geology, are so well settled that
we can employ them in this manner.

As to the more mathematical sciences, there will be no one to doubt but
some of their principles must be admitted as infallible truth; for our
minds are so constituted that they are incapable of resisting a fair
presentation of mathematical demonstration. Now, there is scarcely any
physical science that is not based more or less upon mathematical truth;
and as to the facts in those sciences, some of them are so multiplied, and
speak so uniformly the same language, that we doubt them no more than we
do a mathematical demonstration. Other classes of facts are less decided;
and in some cases they are so insulated as to be regarded as anomalies, to
be set aside until better understood. The same grades of certainty exist
in respect to inferences from the facts of science. Some theories are
scarcely less doubtful than mathematics; others are as strong as probable
reasoning can make them; and others are merely plausible. Hypotheses are
still less to be trusted, though sometimes extremely probable.

Now, most of the physical sciences embrace facts, theories, and
hypotheses, that range widely along the scale of probability, from decided
demonstration to ingenious conjecture. It is easy, however, in general, to
distinguish the demonstrated and the permanent from the conjectural and
the fanciful; and when we bring the principles of any science into
comparison with religion, it is chiefly the former that should be
considered, although scientific hypothesis may sometimes be made to
illustrate religious hypothesis. But, passing by all other sciences, it is
my desire to present before you, on this occasion, the claims of geology,
as having fundamental principles so well settled that they claim attention
from the interpreter of the Bible. I ought, however, to remark, that there
exists a strange jealousy of this science even among intelligent men; a
suspicion that its votaries have jumped at strange and dangerous
conclusions through the influence of hypothesis, and that in fact the
whole science is little else but hypothesis, and that there is almost no
agreement even among its ablest cultivators. It is indeed a comparatively
recent science, and its remarkable developments have succeeded one another
so rapidly, as to leave men in doubt whether it would not prove a dazzling
meteor, instead of a steady and permanent luminary. When the men who are
now in the full maturity of judgment and reason, (and whose favorable
opinion I am, therefore, anxious above that of all others to secure,) when
these were young, geology did not constitute a branch of finished
education; and amid the pressure of the cares and duties of middle life,
how few find the leisure, to say nothing of the disposition, carefully to
investigate a new and extensive science! Even though younger men should be
found standing forth as the advocates of geology, yet how natural for
those more advanced to impute this to the ardor and love of novelty,
characteristic of youth!

There is another difficulty, in relation to this subject, that embarrasses
me. It is not even yet generally understood that geology is a branch of
knowledge which requires long and careful study fully to understand; that
a previous knowledge of many other sciences is indispensable in order to
comprehend its reasonings; that its reasonings are in fact, for the most
part, to be mastered only by long and patient consideration; and finally,
and more especially, that they will appear inconclusive and feeble, unless
a man has become somewhat familiar with specimens of rocks and fossils,
and has examined strata as they lie in the earth. How very imperfect must
be the most intelligent man's knowledge of botany, who had never examined
any plants; or of chemistry, who had not seen any of the simple
substances, nor experiments upon them in the laboratory; or of
crystallography, whose eyes had perhaps never rested upon a crystal. No
less important is it that he, who would reason correctly about rocks and
their organic contents, should have studied rocks. But upon such an amount
of knowledge it is no disparagement to say we have no right to presume in
all, even of publicly educated men. Before such a state of preparation can
exist, it is necessary that practical geology, at least, should be
introduced into our schools of every grade, as it might be with great
success.

It ought to be mentioned, in this connection, that, within a few years
past, geology has experienced several severe attacks of a peculiar
character. Men of respectable ability, and decided friends of revelation,
having got fully impressed with the belief that the views of geologists
are hostile to the Bible, have set themselves to an examination of their
writings, not so much with a view of understanding the subject, as of
finding contradictions and untenable positions. The next step has been to
write a book against geology, abounding, as we might expect from men of
warm temperament, of such prejudices, and without a practical knowledge of
geology, with striking misapprehensions of facts and opinions, with
positive and dogmatic assertions, with severe personal insinuations, great
ignorance of correct reasoning in geology, and the substitution of wild
and extravagant hypotheses for geological theories.

Hence English literature has been prolific of such works as "A Comparative
Estimate of the Mineral and Mosaic Geologies," by Granville Penn; the
"Geology of Scripture," by Fairholme; "Scriptural Geology," by Dr. Young;
"Popular Geology subversive of Divine Revelation," by Rev. Henry Cole;
"Strictures on Geology and Astronomy," by Rev. R. Wilson; "Scripture
Evidences of Creation, and Geology, and Scripture Cosmogony," by anonymous
authors; and many other similar productions that might be named. The warm
zeal displayed, and doubtless felt, by these writers for the Bible; their
familiar reference to eminent geological authors, as if they understood
them; the skill in philology, which they frequently exhibit; and the want
of a wide-spread and accurate knowledge of geology in the community,--have
given to these works a far more extensive circulation than those works
have had, which view geology as illustrating and not opposing revelation.
Foremost among these is the lectures of the venerable and learned Dr. John
Pye Smith, late principal of the Homerton Divinity College, London, "On
the Relations between the Holy Scriptures and some Parts of Geological
Science."[4] This work, the result of long and patient research, and
emanating from a man of eminent piety as well as learning, affords a full
refutation of all the works that have been named, and in the kindness and
candor of its spirit exhibits a fine contrast to their intolerance and
dogmatism. In the profound works of Dr. Harris, entitled "The Pre-Adamite
Earth," and "Man Primeval," the connections of geology and revelation are
briefly but ably treated, and also its connection with natural religion.
Quite recently, a small and more popular work on this subject has been
published by Rev. David King, LL. D., of Glasgow, well worthy of
attention. "The Course of Creation," by Rev. John Anderson, D.D. of recent
publication, displays much learning and candor. But the causes that have
been mentioned have secured a much wider circulation for the class of
works first named, than for the latter, among the religious community
generally. The consequence is, that the public mind is possessed of many
prejudices unfavorable to the religious bearings of geology, and
unfavorable to an impartial examination of its claims.

Under these circumstances, all that I can do is to state definitely what I
apprehend to be the established principles of the science that have a
bearing upon religious truth, and refer my hearers to standard works on
the subject for the proof that they are true. If any will not take the
trouble to examine the proofs, I trust they will have candor and
impartiality enough not to deny my positions.

The first important conclusion, to which every careful observer will come,
is, that the rocks of all sorts, which compose the present crust of the
globe, so far as it has been explored, at least to the depth of several
miles, appear to have been the result of second causes; that is, they are
now in a different state from that in which they were originally created.

It is indeed a favorite idea with some, that all the rocks and their
contents were created just as we now meet them, in a moment of time; that
the supposed remains of animals and plants, which many of them contain,
and which occur in all states, from an animal or plant little changed, to
a complete conversion into stone, were never real animals and plants, but
only resemblances; and that the marks of fusion and of the wearing of
water, exhibited by the rocks, are not to be taken as evidences that they
have undergone such processes, but only that it has pleased God to give
them that appearance and that in fact it was as easy for God to create
them just as they now are as in any other form.

It is a presumption against such a supposition, that no men, who have
carefully examined rocks and organic remains, are its advocates. Not that
they doubt the power of God to produce such effects, but they deny the
probability that He has exerted it in this manner; for throughout nature,
wherever they have an opportunity to witness her operations, they find
that when substances appear to have undergone changes, by means of
secondary agencies, they have in fact undergone them; and, therefore, the
whole analogy of nature goes to prove that the rocks have experienced
great changes since their deposition. If rocks are an exception to the
rest of nature,--that is, if they are the effect of miraculous
agency,--there is no proof of it; and to admit it without proof is to
destroy all grounds of analogical reasoning in natural operations; in
other words, it is to remove the entire basis of reasoning in physical
science. Every reasonable man, therefore, who has examined rocks, will
admit that they have undergone important changes since their original
formation.

In the second place, the same general laws appear to have always prevailed
on the globe, and to have controlled the changes which have taken place
upon and within it. We come to no spot, in the history of the rocks, in
which a system different from that which now prevails appears to have
existed. Great peculiarities in the structure of animals and plants do
indeed occur, as well as changes on a scale of magnitude unknown at
present; but this was only a wise adaptation to peculiar circumstances,
and not an infringement of the general laws.

In the third place, the geological changes which the earth has undergone,
and is now undergoing, appear to have been the result of the same
agencies, viz., heat and water.

Fourthly. It is demonstrated that the present continents of the globe,
with perhaps the exception of some of their highest mountains, have for a
long period constituted the bottom of the ocean, and have been
subsequently either elevated into their present position, or the waters
have been drained off from their surface. This is probably the most
important principle in geology; and though regarded with much scepticism
by many, it is as satisfactorily proved as any principle of physical
science not resting on mathematical demonstration.

Fifthly. The internal parts of the earth are found to possess a very high
temperature; nor can it be doubted that at least oceans of melted matter
exist beneath the crust, and perhaps even all the deep-seated interior is
in a state of fusion.

Sixthly. The fossiliferous rocks, or such as contain animals and plants,
are not less than six or seven miles in perpendicular thickness, and are
composed of hundreds of alternating layers of different kinds, all of
which appear to have been deposited, just as rocks are now forming, at the
bottom of lakes and seas; and hence their deposition must have occupied an
immense period of time. Even if we admit that this deposition went on in
particular places much faster than at present, a variety of facts forbids
the supposition that this was the general mode of their formation.

Seventhly. The remains of animals and plants found in the earth are not
mingled confusedly together, but are found arranged, for the most part, in
as much order as the drawers of a well-regulated cabinet. In general, they
appear to have lived and died on or near the spots where they are now
found; and as countless millions of these remains are often found piled
together, so as to form almost entire mountains, the periods requisite
for their formation must have been immensely long, as was taught in the
preceding proposition.

Eighthly. Still further confirmation of the same important principle is
found in the well-established fact, that there have been upon the globe,
previous to the existing races, not less than five distinct periods of
organized existence; that is, five great groups of animals and plants, so
completely independent that no species whatever is found in more than one
of them, have lived and successively passed away before the creation of
the races that now occupy the surface. Other standard writers make the
number of these periods of existence as many as twelve. Comparative
anatomy testifies that so unlike in structure were these different groups,
that they could not have coexisted in the same climate and other external
circumstances.

Ninthly. In the earliest times in which animals and plants lived, the
climate over the whole globe appears to have been as warm as, or even
warmer than, it is now between the tropics. And the slow change from
warmer to colder appears to have been the chief cause of the successive
destruction of the different races; and new ones were created, better
adapted to the altered condition of the globe; and yet each group seems to
have occupied the globe through a period of great length, so that we have
here another evidence of the vast cycles of duration that must have rolled
away even since the earth became a habitable globe.

Tenthly. There is no small reason to suppose that the globe underwent
numerous changes previous to the time when animals were placed upon it;
that, in fact, the time was when the whole matter of the earth was in a
melted state, and not improbably also even in a gaseous state. These
points, indeed, are not as well established as the others that have been
mentioned; but, if admitted, they give to the globe an incalculable
antiquity.

Eleventhly. It appears that the present condition of the earth's crust and
surface was of comparatively recent commencement; otherwise the steep
flanks of mountains would have ceased to crumble down, and wide oceans
would have been filled with alluvial deposits.

Twelfthly. Among the thirty thousand species of animals and plants found
in the rocks,[5] very few living species have been detected; and even
these few occur in the most recent rocks, while in the secondary group,
not less than six miles thick, not a single species now on the globe has
been discovered. Hence the present races did not exist till after those in
the secondary rocks had died. No human remains have been found below those
alluvial deposits which are now forming by rivers, lakes, and the ocean.
Hence geology infers that man was one of the latest animals that was
placed on the globe.

Thirteenthly. The surface of the earth has undergone an enormous amount of
erosion by the action of the ocean, the rivers, and the atmosphere. The
ocean has worn away the solid rock, in some parts of the world, not less
than ten thousand feet in depth, and rivers have cut channels through the
hardest strata, hundreds of feet deep and several miles long; both of
which effects demand periods inconceivably long.

Fourteenthly. At a comparatively recent date, northern and southern
regions have been swept over and worn down by the joint action of ice and
water, the force in general having been directed towards the equator.
This is called the _drift_ period.

Fifteenthly. Since the drift period, the ocean has stood some thousands of
feet above its present level in many countries.

Sixteenthly. There is evidence, in regard to some parts of the world, that
the continents are now experiencing slow vertical movements--some places
sinking, and others rising. And hence a presumption is derived that, in
early times, such changes may have been often repeated, and on a great
scale.

Seventeenthly. Every successive change of importance on the earth's
surface appears to have been an improvement of its condition, adapting it
to beings of a higher organization, and to man at last, the most perfect
of all.

Finally. The present races of animals and plants on the globe are for the
most part disposed in groups, occupying particular districts, beyond whose
limits the species peculiar to those provinces usually droop and die. The
same is true, to some extent, as to the animals and plants found in the
rocks; though the much greater uniformity of climate, that prevailed in
early times, permitted organized beings to take a much wider range than at
present; so that the zoological and botanical districts were then probably
much wider. But the general conclusion, in respect to living and extinct
animals, is, that there must have been several centres of creation, from
which they emigrated as far as their natures would allow them to range.

It would be easy to state more principles of geology of considerable
importance; but I have now named the principal ones that bear upon the
subject of religion. A brief statement of the leading truths of theology,
whether natural or revealed, which these principles affect, and on which
they cast light, will give an idea of the subjects which I propose to
discuss in these lectures.

The first point relates to the age of the world. For while it has been the
usual interpretation of the Mosaic account, that the world was brought
into existence nearly at the same time with man and the other existing
animals, geology throws back its creation to a period indefinitely but
immeasurably remote. The question is not whether man has existed on the
globe longer than the common interpretation of Genesis requires,--for here
geology and the Bible speak the same language,--but whether the globe
itself did not exist long before his creation; that is, long before the
six days' work, so definitely described in the Mosaic account? In other
words, is not this a case in which the discoveries of science enable us
more accurately to understand the Scriptures?

The introduction of death into the world, and the specific character of
that death described in Scripture as the consequence of sin, are the next
points where geology touches the subject of religion. Here, too, the
general interpretation of Scripture is at variance with the facts of
geology, which distinctly testify to the occurrence of death among animals
long before the existence of man. Shall geology here, also, be permitted
to modify our exposition of the Bible?

The subject of deluges, and especially that of Noah, will next claim our
attention. For though it is now generally agreed that geology cannot
detect traces of such a deluge as the Scriptures describe, yet upon some
other bearings of that subject it does cast light; and so remarkable is
the history of opinions concerning the Noachian deluge, that it could not
on that account alone be properly passed in silence.

It is well known that the philosophy of antiquity, almost without
exception, regarded matter as eternal; and in modern times, metaphysical
theology has done its utmost to refute the supposed dangerous dogma.
Geology affords us some new views of the subject; and although it does not
directly refute the doctrine, it brings before us facts of such a nature
as to show, that, so far as religion is concerned, such a refutation is of
little importance. This will furnish another theme of discussion.

It may be thought extravagant, but I hazard the assertion, that no science
is so prolific of direct testimony to the benevolence of the Deity as
geology; and some of its facts bear strongly upon the objections to this
doctrine. So important a subject will, therefore, occupy at least one or
two lectures.

In all ages, philosophers have, in one form or another, endeavored to
explain the origin and the phenomena of creation by a power inherent in
nature, independent of a personal Deity, usually denominated _natural
law_. And in modern times this hypothesis has assumed a popular form and a
plausible dress. Not less than one lecture is demanded for its
examination, especially as its advocates appeal with special confidence to
geology for its support.

In existing nature, no one fact stands out more prominently than unity of
design; and it is an interesting inquiry, whether the same general system
prevailed through the vast periods of geological history as that which now
adorns our globe. This question I shall endeavor to answer in the
affirmative, by appealing to a multitude of facts.

Another question of deep interest in theology is, whether the Deity
exercises over the world any special providence; whether he ever
interferes with the usual order of things by introducing change; or
whether he has committed nature to the control of unalterable laws,
without any direct efficiency. Light is thrown on these points by the
researches of geology, if I mistake not; and I shall not fail to attempt
its development.

This science also discloses to us many new views of the vast plans of the
Deity, and thus enlarges our conceptions of his wisdom and knowledge. In
this field we must allow ourselves to wander in search of the golden
fruit.

In the course of the discussion, we shall direct our attention to the new
heavens and the new earth described in the Bible, and inquire whether
geology does not cast a glimpse of light upon that difficult subject.

In approaching the close of our subject, we shall introduce a few lectures
having a wider range, and deriving less elucidation from geology than from
other sciences. One is a consideration of the physical effects of human
actions upon the universe. And in conclusion of the whole subject, we
shall endeavor to show that the bearings of all science, when rightly
understood, are eminently favorable to religion, both in this world and
the next.

With a few miscellaneous inferences from the principles advanced, I shall
close this lecture.

In the first place, we see that the points of connection between geology
and religion are numerous and important. A few years since, geology,
instead of being appealed to for the illustration of religious truth, was
regarded with great jealousy, as a repository of views favorable to
infidelity, and even to atheism. But if the summary which I have exhibited
of its religious relations be correct, from what other science can we
obtain so many illustrations of natural and revealed religion?
Distinguished Christian writers are beginning to gather fruit in this new
field, and the clusters already presented us by such men as Dr. Chalmers,
Dr. Pye Smith, Dr. Buckland, Dr. Harris, and Dr. King, are an earnest of
an abundant harvest. I hazard the prediction that the time is not far
distant when it will be said of this, as of another noble science, "The
undevout _geologist_ is mad."

Secondly. I would bespeak the candid attention of those sceptical minds,
that are ever ready to imagine discrepancies between science and religion,
to the views which I am about to present. The number of such is indeed
comparatively small; yet there are still some prepared to seize upon every
new scientific fact, before it is fully developed, that can be made to
assume the appearance of opposition to religion. It is strange that they
should not ere this time despair of making any serious impression upon the
citadel of Christianity. For of all the numerous assaults of this kind
that have been made, not one has destroyed even an outpost of religion.
Just so soon as the subject was fully understood, every one of them has
been abandoned; and even the most violent unbeliever never thinks, at the
present day, of arraying them against the Bible. One needs no prophetic
inspiration to be confident that every geological objection to
Christianity, which perhaps now and then an unbeliever of limited
knowledge still employs, will pass into the same limbo of forgetfulness.

Finally. I would throw out a caution to those friends of religion who are
very fearful that the discoveries of science will prove injurious to
Christianity. Why should the enlightened Christian, who has a correct idea
of the firm foundation on which the Bible rests, fear that any disclosures
of the arcana of nature should shake its authority or weaken its
influence? Is not the God of revelation the God of nature also? and must
not his varied works tend to sustain and elucidate, instead of weakening
and darkening, one another? Has Christianity suffered because the
Copernican system of astronomy has proved true, or because chemistry has
demonstrated that the earth is already for the most part oxidized, and
therefore cannot literally be burned hereafter? Just as much as gold
suffers by passing through the furnace. Yet how many fears agitated the
hearts of pious men when these scientific truths were first announced! The
very men who felt so strong a conviction of the truth of the Bible, that
they were ready to go to the stake in its defence, have trembled and
uttered loud notes of warning when the votaries of science have brought
out some new fact, that seemed perhaps at first, or when partially
understood, to contravene some statement of revelation. The effect has
been to make sceptical minds look with suspicion, and sometimes with
contempt, upon Christianity itself. It has built up a wall of separation
between science and religion, which is yet hardly broken down. For
notwithstanding the instructive history of the past on this subject,
although every supposed discrepancy between philosophy and religion has
vanished as soon as both were thoroughly understood, yet so soon as
geology began to develop her marvellous truths, the cry of danger to
religion became again the watchword, and the precursor of a more extended
and severe attack upon that science than any other has ever experienced,
and the prelude, I am sorry to say, of severe personal charges of
infidelity against many an honest friend of religion.

In contrast to the contracted views and groundless fears that have been
described, it is refreshing to meet with such sentiments as the following,
from men eminent for learning, and some of them veterans in theological
science. With these I close this lecture.

"Those rocks which stand forth in the order of their formation," says Dr.
Chalmers, "and are each imprinted with their own peculiar fossil remains,
have been termed the archives of nature, where she hath recorded the
changes that have taken place in the history of the globe. They are made
to serve the purpose of scrolls or inscriptions, on which we might read of
those great steps and successions by which the earth has been brought into
its present state; and should these archives of nature be but truly
deciphered, we are not afraid of their being openly confronted with the
archives of revelation. It is unmanly to blink the approach of light, from
whatever quarter of observation it may fall upon us; and those are not the
best friends of Christianity, who feel either dislike or alarm when the
torch of science, or the torch of history, is held up to the Bible. For
ourselves, we are not afraid when the eye of an intrepid, if it be only a
sound philosophy, scrutinizes, however jealously, all its pages. We have
no dread of any apprehended conflict between the doctrines of Scripture
and the discoveries of science, persuaded, as we are, that whatever story
the geologists of our day shall find engraven on the volume of nature, it
will only accredit that story which is graven on the volume of
revelation."--_Chalmers's Works_, vol. ii. p. 227.

"For our own part," says Rev. Henry Melville, "we have no fears that any
discoveries of science will really militate against the disclosures of
Scripture. We remember how, in darker days, ecclesiastics set themselves
against philosophers who were investigating the motions of the heavenly
bodies, apprehensive that the new theories were at variance with the
Bible, and therefore resolved to denounce them as heresies, and stop their
spread by persecution. But truth triumphed; bigotry and ignorance could
not long prevail to the hiding from the world the harmonious walkings of
stars and planets; and ever since, the philosophy which laid open the
wonders of the universe hath proved herself the handmaid of revelation,
which divulged secrets far beyond her gaze. And thus, we are persuaded,
shall it always be; science may scale new heights and explore new depths,
but she shall bring back nothing from her daring and successful excursions
which will not, when rightly understood, yield a fresh tribute of
testimony to the Bible. Infidelity may watch her progress with eagerness,
exulting in the thought that she is furnishing facts with which the
Christian system may be strongly assailed; but the champions of revelation
may confidently attend her in every march, assured that she will find
nothing which contradicts, if it do not actually confirm, the word which
they know to be divine."--_Sermons, 2d Am. edit._ vol. ii. p. 298.

"Shall it then any longer be said," says Dr. Buckland, "that a science,
which unfolds such abundant evidence of the being and attributes of God,
can reasonably be viewed in any other light than as the efficient
auxiliary and handmaid of religion? Some few there still may be, whom
timidity, or prejudice, or want of opportunity, allow not to examine its
evidence; who are alarmed by the novelty, or surprised by the extent and
magnitude, of the views which geology forces on their attention, and who
would rather have kept closed the volume of witness, which has been sealed
up for ages, beneath the surface of the earth, than impose upon the
student in natural theology the duty of studying its contents;--a duty in
which, for lack of experience, they may anticipate a hazardous or a
laborious task, but which, by those engaged in it, is found to afford a
rational, and righteous, and delightful exercise of their highest
faculties, in multiplying the evidences of the existence, and attributes,
and providence of God."

"It follows then," says Dr. J. Pye Smith, "as a universal truth, that the
Bible, faithfully interpreted, erects no bar against the most free and
extensive investigation, the most comprehensive and searching induction.
Let but the investigation be sufficient, and the induction honest; let
observation take its farthest flight; let experiment penetrate into all
the recesses of nature; let the veil of ages be lifted up from all that
has been hitherto unknown,--if such a course were possible, religion need
not fear; Christianity is secure, and true science will always pay homage
to the divine Creator and Sovereign, _of whom, and through whom, and to
whom are all things; and unto whom be glory forever_."--_Lectures on
Scripture and Geology, 4th London edit._ p. 223.




LECTURE II.

THE EPOCH OF THE EARTH'S CREATION UNREVEALED.


The Mosaic account of the creation of the universe has always been
celebrated for its sublime simplicity. Though the subject be one of
unparalleled grandeur, the writer makes not the slightest effort at
rhetorical embellishment, but employs language which a mere child cannot
misapprehend. How different, in this respect, is this inspired record from
all uninspired efforts that have been made to describe the origin of the
world!

But notwithstanding the great simplicity and clearness of this
description, its precise meaning has occasioned as much discussion as
almost any passage of Scripture. This results chiefly from its great
brevity. Men with different views of inspiration, cosmogony, and
philosophy, engage in its examination, not so much to ascertain its
meaning, as to find out whether it teaches their favorite speculative
views; and because it says nothing about them, they attempt to fasten
those views upon it, and thus make it teach a great deal more than the
mind of the Spirit. My simple object, at this time, is to ascertain
whether the Bible fixes the time when the universe was created out of
nothing.

The prevalent opinion, until recently, has been, that we are there taught
that the world began to exist on the first of the six days of creation, or
about six thousand years ago. Geologists, however, with one voice, declare
that their science indicates the earth to have been of far higher
antiquity. The question becomes, therefore, of deep interest, whether the
common interpretation of the Mosaic record is correct.

Let us, in the first place, examine carefully the terms of that record;
without reference to any of the conclusions of science.

A preliminary inquiry, however, will here demand attention, to which I
have already given some thoughts in the first lecture. The inquiry relates
to the mode in which the sacred writers describe natural phenomena.

Do they adapt their descriptions to the views and feelings of
philosophers, or even the common people, in the nineteenth century, or to
the state of knowledge and the prevalent opinions of a people but slightly
removed from barbarism?

Do they write as if they meant to correct the notions of men on natural
subjects, when they knew them to be wrong; or as if they did not mean to
decide whether the popular opinion were true or false? These points have
been examined with great skill and candor by a venerable clergyman of
England, whose praise is in all the American churches, and whose skill in
sacred philology, and profound acquaintance with the Bible, none will
question, any more than they will his deep-toned piety and enlarged and
liberal views of men and things. I refer to Dr. J. Pye Smith, lately at
the head of the Homerton Divinity College, near London.[6]

He first examines the style in which the Old Testament describes the
character and operations of Jehovah, and shows that it is done "in
language borrowed from the bodily and mental constitution of man, and from
those opinions concerning the works of God in the natural world, which
were generally received by the people to whom the blessings of revelation
were granted." Constant reference is made to material images, and to human
feelings and conduct, as if the people addressed were almost incapable of
spiritual and abstract ideas. This, of course, gives a notion of God
infinitely beneath the glories of his character; but to uncultivated minds
it was the only representation of his character that would give them any
idea of it. Nay, even in this enlightened age, such descriptions are far
more impressive than any other upon the mass of mankind; while those,
whose minds are more enlightened, find no difficulty in inculcating the
pure truth respecting God from these comparatively gross descriptions.

Now, if, upon a point of such vast importance as the divine character,
revelation, thus condescends to human weakness and ignorance, much more
might we expect it, in regard to the less important subject of natural
phenomena. We find, accordingly, that they are described as they appear to
the common eye, and not in their real nature; or, in the language of
Rosenmuller, the Scriptures speak "according to optical, and not physical
truth." They make no effort to correct even the grossest errors, on these
subjects, that then prevailed.

The earth, as we have seen on a former occasion, is described as
immovable, in the centre of the universe, and the heavenly bodies as
revolving round it diurnally. The firmament over us is represented as a
solid, extended substance, sustaining an ocean above it, with openings, or
windows, through which the waters may descend. In respect to the human
system, the Scriptures refer intellectual operations to the reins, or the
region of the kidneys, and pain to the bones. In short, the descriptions
of natural things are adapted to the very erroneous notions which
prevailed in the earliest ages of society and among the common people. But
it is as easy to interpret such descriptions in conformity to the present
state of physical science, as it is to divest the scriptural
representations of the Deity of their material dress, and make them
conform to the spiritual views that now prevail. No one regards it as any
objection to the Old Testament, that it gives a description of the divine
character so much less spiritual than the views adopted by the theologians
of the nineteenth century; why then should they regard it as derogatory to
inspiration to adopt the same method as to natural objects?

These considerations will afford us some assistance in rightly
interpreting the description of the creation, in the first chapter of
Genesis, to which we will now turn our attention.

_In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was
without form and void. And darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the
Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there
be light, and there was light. And God saw the light that it was good. And
God divided the light from the darkness, and the light he called day, and
the darkness he called night. And the evening and the morning were the
first day._

The first question that arises, on reading this passage, is, whether the
creation here described was a creation out of nothing, or out of
preexisting materials. The latter opinion has been maintained by some
able, and generally judicious commentators and theologians, such as
Doederlin and Dathe in Germany, Milton in England, and Bush and Schmucker
in this country. They do not deny that the Bible, in other places, teaches
distinctly the creation of the universe out of nothing. But they contend
that the word translated _to create_, in the first verse of Genesis,
teaches only a renovation, or remodelling, of the universe from matter
already in existence.

That there is a degree of ambiguity in all languages, in the words that
signify to _create_, to _make_, to _form_, and the like, cannot be
doubted; that is, these words may be properly used to describe the
production of a substance out of matter already in existence, as well as
out of nothing; and, therefore, we must resort to the context, or the
nature of the subject, to ascertain in which of those senses such words
are used. The same word, for instance, (_bawraw_,) that is used in the
first verse of Genesis, to describe the creation of the universe, is
employed in the 27th verse of the same chapter, to describe the formation
of man out of the dust of the earth. There was, however, no peculiar
ambiguity in the use of the Hebrew words _bawraw_ and _awsaw_, which
correspond to our words _create_ and _make_; and, therefore, it is not
necessary to be an adept in Hebrew literature to judge of the question
under consideration. We have only to determine whether the translation of
the Mosaic account of the creation most reasonably teaches a production of
the matter of the universe from nothing, or only its renovation, and we
have decided what is taught in the original.

Now, there can hardly be a doubt but Moses intended to teach, in this
passage, that the universe owed its origin to Jehovah, and not to the
idols of the heathen; and since all acknowledge that other parts of
Scripture teach, that, when the world was made, it was produced out of
nothing, why should we not conclude that the same truth is taught in this
passage? The language certainly will bear that meaning; indeed, it is
almost as strong as language can be to express such a meaning; and does
not the passage look like a distinct avowal of this great truth, at the
very commencement of the inspired record, in order to refute the opinion,
so prevalent in early times, that the world is eternal?

The next inquiry concerning the passage relates to the phrase _the heavens
and the earth_. Does it comprehend the universe? So it must have been
understood by the Jews; for their language could not furnish a more
comprehensive phrase to designate the universe. True, these words, like
those already considered, are used sometimes in a limited sense. But in
this place their broadest signification is in perfect accordance with the
scope of the passage and with the whole tenor of the Scripture. We may,
therefore, conclude with much certainty, that God intended in this place
to declare the great truth, that there was a time in past eternity when
the whole material universe came into existence at his irresistible
fiat:--a truth eminently proper to stand at the head of a divine
revelation.

But when did this stupendous event occur? Does the phrase _in the
beginning_ show us when? Surely not; for no language can be more
indefinite as to time. Whenever it is used in the Bible, it merely
designates the commencement of the series of events, or the periods of
time, that are described. _In the beginning was the word_; that is, at the
commencement of things the word was in existence; consequently was from
eternity. But in Genesis the act of creation is represented by this phrase
simply as the commencement of the material universe, at a certain point of
time in past eternity, which is not chronologically fixed. The first verse
merely informs us, that the first act of the Deity in relation to the
universe was the creation of the heavens and the earth out of nothing.

It is contended, however, that the first verse is so connected with the
six days' work of creation, related in the subsequent verse, that we must
understand the phrase _in the beginning_ as the commencement of the first
day. This is the main point to be examined in relation to the passage, and
therefore deserves a careful consideration.

If the first verse must be understood as a summary account of the six
days' work which follows in detail, then _the beginning_ was the
commencement of the first day, and of course only about six thousand years
ago. But if it may be understood as an announcement of the act of creation
at some indefinite point in past duration, then a period may have
intervened between that first creative act and the subsequent six days'
work. I contend that the passage admits of either interpretation, without
any violence to the language or the narration.

The first of these interpretations is the one usually received, and,
therefore, it will be hardly necessary to attempt to show that it is
admissible. The second has had fewer advocates, and will, therefore, need
to be examined.

The particle _and_, which is used in our translation of this passage to
connect the successive sentences, furnishes an argument to the English
reader against this second mode of interpretation, which has far less
force with one acquainted with the original Hebrew. The particle thus
translated is the general connecting particle of the Hebrew language, and
"may be copulative, or disjunctive, or adversative; or it may express a
mere annexation to a former topic of discourse,--the connection being only
that of the subject matter, or the continuation of the composition. This
continuative use forms one of the most marked peculiarities of the Hebrew
idiom, and it comprehends every variety of mode in which one train of
sentiment may be appended to another."--J. Pye Smith, _Scrip. and Geol._
p. 195, 4th edit.

In the English Bible this particle is usually rendered by the copulative
conjunction _and_; in the Septuagint, and in Josephus, however, it
sometimes has the sense of _but_. And some able commentators are of
opinion that it admits of a similar translation in the passage under
consideration. The elder Rosenmuller says we might read it thus: "_In the
beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Afterwards the earth was
desolate_," &c. Or the particle _afterwards_ may be placed at the
beginning of any of the succeeding verses. Thus, In the beginning God
created the heavens and the earth, and the earth was desolate, and
darkness was upon the face of the waters. _Afterwards_ the Spirit of God
moved upon the face of the waters. Dr. Dathe, who has been styled, by good
authority, (Dr. Smith,) "a cautious and judicious critic," renders the
first two verses in this manner: "In the beginning God created the heavens
and the earth; but afterwards the earth became waste and desolate." If
such translations as these be admissible, the passage not only allows, but
expressly teaches, that a period intervened between the first act of
creation and the six days' work. And if such an interval be allowed, it is
all that geology requires to reconcile its facts to revelation. For
during that time, all the changes of mineral constitution and organic
life, which that science teaches to have taken place on the globe,
previous to the existence of man, may have occurred.

It is a presumption in favor of such an interpretation that the second
verse describes the state of the globe after its creation and before the
creation of light. For if there were no interval between the fiat that
called matter into existence, and that which said, _Let there be light_,
why should such a description of the earth's waste and desolate condition
be given?

But if there had been such an intervening period, it is perfectly natural
that such a description should precede the history of successive creative
acts, by which the world was adorned with light and beauty, and filled
with inhabitants.

But, after all, would such an interpretation have ever been thought of,
had not the discoveries of geology seemed to demand it?

This can be answered by inquiring whether any of the writers on the Bible,
who lived before geology existed, or had laid claims for a longer period
previous to man's creation, whether any of these adopted such an
interpretation. We have abundant evidence that they did. Many of the early
fathers of the church were very explicit on this subject. Augustin,
Theodoret, and others, supposed that the first verse of Genesis describes
the creation of matter distinct from, and prior to, the work of six days.
Justin Martyr and Gregory Nazianzen believed in an indefinite period
between the creation of matter and the subsequent arrangement of all
things. Still more explicit are Basil, Caesarius, and Origen. It would be
easy to quote similar opinions from more modern writers, who lived
previous to the developments of geology. But I will give a paragraph from
Bishop Patrick only, who wrote one hundred and fifty years ago.

"How long," says he, "all things continued in mere confusion after the
chaos was created, before light was extracted from it, we are not told. It
might have been, for any thing that is here revealed, a great while; and
all that time the mighty Spirit was making such motions in it, as
prepared, disposed, and ripened every part of it for such productions as
were to appear successively in such spaces of time as are here afterwards
mentioned by Moses, who informs us, that after things were digested and
made ready (by long fermentation perhaps) to be wrought into form, God
produced every day, for six days together, some creature or other, till
all was finished, of which light was the very first."--_Commentary, in
loco._

Such evidence as this is very satisfactory. For at the present day one
cannot but fear that the discoveries of geology may too much influence him
insensibly to put a meaning upon Scripture which would never have been
thought of, if not suggested by those discoveries, and which the language
cannot bear. But those fathers of the church cannot be supposed under the
influence of any such bias; and, therefore, we may suppose the passage in
itself to admit of the existence of a long period between the beginning
and the first demiurgic day.

Against these views philologists have urged several objections not to be
despised. One is, that light did not exist till the first day, and the sun
and other luminaries not till the fourth day; whereas the animals and
plants dug from the rocks could not have existed without light. They could
not, therefore, have lived in the supposed long period previous to the six
days.

If it be indeed true, that light was not called into existence till the
first day, nor the sun till the fourth, this objection is probably
insuperable. But it would be easy to cite the opinions of many
distinguished and most judicious expounders of the Bible, showing that the
words of the Hebrew original do not signify a literal creation of the sun,
moon, and stars, on the fourth day, but only constituting or appointing
them, at that time, to be luminaries, and to furnish standards for the
division of time and other purposes.

The word used is not the same as that employed in the first verse to
describe the creation of the world; and the passage, rightly understood,
implies the previous existence of the heavenly bodies. "The words [Hebrew]
are not to be separated from the rest," says Rosenmuller, "or to be
rendered _fiant luminaria_, let there be light; i. e., _let light be
made_; but rather, _let lights be_; that is, serve, in the expanse of
heaven, for distinguishing between day and night; and let them be, or
serve, for signs," &c. "The historian speaks (v. 16, end) of the
determination of the stars to certain uses, which they were to render to
the earth, and not of their first formation." In like manner we may
suppose that the production of light was only rendering it visible to the
earth, over which darkness hitherto brooded; not because no light was in
existence, but because it did not shine upon the earth.

Another objection to this interpretation is, that the fourth commandment
of the decalogue expressly declares, that _in six days the Lord made
heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is_, &c., and thus cuts
off the idea of a long period intervening between the _beginning_ and the
six days. I acknowledge that this argument carries upon the face of it a
good deal of strength; but there are some considerations that seem to me
to show it to be not entirely demonstrative.

In the first place, it is a correct principle of interpreting language,
that when a writer describes an event in more than one place, the briefer
statement is to be explained by the more extended one. Thus, in the second
chapter of Genesis, we have this brief account of the creation: _These are
the generations of the heavens and of the earth, when they were created,
in the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens._

Now, if this were the only description of the work of creation on record,
the inference would be very fair that it was all completed in a single
day.

Yet when we turn to the first chapter, we find the work prolonged through
six days. The two statements are not contradictory; but the briefer one
would not be understood without the more detailed. In like manner, if we
should find it distinctly stated in the particular account of the creation
of the universe, in the first chapter of Genesis, that a long period
actually intervened between the beginning and the six days, who would
suppose the statement a contradiction to the fourth commandment? It is
true, we do not find such a fact distinctly announced in the Mosaic
account of the creation. But suppose we first learn that it did exist from
geology; why should we not be as ready to admit it as if stated in
Genesis, provided it does not contradict any thing therein recorded? For
illustration: let us refer to the account given in Exodus of the parents
of Moses and their family. _And there went a man of the name of Levi, and
took to wife a daughter of Levi. And the woman conceived and bare a son,_
(that is, Moses,) _and when she saw that he was a goodly child, she hid
him three months._ (Ex. ii. 12.) Suppose, now, that no other account
existed in the Bible of the family of this Levite; we could not surely
have suspected that Moses had an elder brother and sister. But imagine the
Bible silent on the subject, and that the fact was first brought to light
in deciphering Egyptian hieroglyphics in the nineteenth century; who
could hesitate to admit its truth because omitted in the Pentateuch? or
who would regard it in opposition to the sacred record? With equal
propriety may we admit, on proper geological evidence, the intercalation
of a long period between the beginning and the six days, if satisfied that
it does not contradict the Mosaic account. Hence all that is necessary, in
this connection, for me to show, is, that such contradictions would not be
made out by such a discovery.

Once more: if this long period had existed, we should hardly have expected
an allusion to it in the fourth commandment, if the views we have taken
are correct as to the manner in which the Old Testament treats of natural
events. It is literally true, that all which the Jews understood by the
heavens and the earth, was made, (_awsaw_,) that is, renovated, arranged,
and constituted,--for so the word often means,--in six literal days. Had
the sacred writer alluded to the earth while without form and void, or to
the heavenly bodies as any thing more than shining points in the
firmament, placed there on the fourth day, he could not have been
understood by the Hebrews, without going into a detailed description, and
thus violating what seems to have been settled principles in writing the
Bible, viz., not to treat of natural phenomena with scientific accuracy,
nor to anticipate any scientific discovery.

I wish it to be distinctly understood, that I am endeavoring to show,
only, that the language of Scripture will admit of an indefinite interval
between the first creation of matter and the six demiurgic days. I am
willing to admit, at least for the sake of argument, that the common
interpretation, which makes matter only six thousand years old, is the
most natural. But I contend that no violence is done to the language by
admitting the other interpretation. And in further proof of this position,
I appeal to the testimony of distinguished modern theologians and
philologists, as I have to several of the ancients. This point cannot,
indeed, be settled by the authority of names. But I cannot believe that
any will suppose such men as I shall mention were led to adopt this view
simply because geologists asked for it, while their judgments told them
that the language of the Bible would not bear such a meaning. When such
men, therefore, avow their acquiescence in such an interpretation, it
cannot but strengthen our confidence in its correctness.

"The interval," says Bishop Horsley, "between the production of the matter
of the chaos and the formation of light, is undescribed and unknown."

"Were we to concede to naturalists," says Baumgarten Crusius, "all the
reasonings which they advance in favor of the earth's early existence, the
conclusion would only be, that the earth itself has existed much more than
six thousand years, and that it had then already suffered many great and
important revolutions. But if this were so, would the relation of Moses
thereby become false and untenable? I cannot think so."

"By the phrase _in the beginning_," says Doederlin, "the time is declared
when something began to be. But when God produced this remarkable work,
Moses does not precisely define."

"We do not know," says Sharon Turner, "and we have no means of knowing, at
what point of the ever-flowing eternity of that which is alone
eternal,--the divine subsistence,--the creation of our earth, or any part
of the universe, began." "All that we can learn explicitly from revelation
is, that nearly six thousand years have passed since our first parents
began to be."

"The words in the text," says Dr. Wiseman, "do not merely express a
momentary pause between the first fiat of creation and the production of
light; for the participial form of the verb, whereby the Spirit of God,
the creative energy, is represented as brooding over the abyss, and
communicating to it the productive virtue, naturally expresses a
continuous, and not a passing action."

"I am strongly inclined to believe," says Bishop Gleig, "that the matter
of the corporeal universe was all created at once; though different
portions of it may have been reduced to form at very different periods.
When the universe was created, or how long the solar system remained in a
chaotic state, are vain inquiries, to which no answer can be given."

"The detailed history of creation in the first chapter of Genesis," says
Dr. Chalmers, "begins at the middle of the second verse; and what precedes
might be understood as an introductory sentence, by which we are most
appositely told, both that God created all things at the first, and that
afterwards--by what interval of time it is not specified--the earth lapsed
into a chaos, from the darkness and disorder of which the present system
or economy of things was made to arise. Between the initial act and the
details of Genesis, the world, for aught we know, might have been the
theatre of many revolutions, the traces of which geology may still
investigate," &c.

"A philological survey of the initial sections of the Bible, (Gen. i. 1 to
ii. 3,)" says Dr. Pye Smith, "brings out the result;"

1. "That the first sentence is a simple, independent, all-comprehending
axiom, to this effect,--that _matter_, elementary or combined, aggregated
only or organized, and _dependent, sentient, and intellectual beings_ have
not existed from eternity, either in self-continuity or succession, but
had a beginning; that their beginning took place by the all-powerful will
of one Being; the self-existent, independent and infinite in all
perfection; and that the date of that beginning is not made known."

2. "That at a recent epoch, our planet was brought into a state of
disorganization, detritus, or ruin, (perhaps we have no perfectly
appropriate term,) from a former condition."

3. "That it pleased the Almighty, wise and benevolent Supreme, out of that
state of ruin to adjust the surface of the earth to its now existing
condition,--the whole extending through the period of six natural days."

"I am forming," continues Dr. Smith, "no hypotheses in geology; I only
plead that _the ground is clear_, and that the dictates of the Scripture
_interpose no bar_ to observation and reasoning upon the mineralogical
constitution of the earth, and the remains of organized creatures which
its strata disclose. If those investigations should lead us to attribute
to the earth and to the other planets and astral spheres an antiquity
which millions or ten thousand millions of years might fail to represent,
_the divine records forbid not their deduction_."--_Script. and Geol._ p.
502.

Says Dr. Bedford, "We ought to understand Moses as saying, _indefinitely
far back, and concealed from us in the mystery of eternal ages, prior to
the first moment of mundane time_, God created the heavens and the
earth."--Smith, _Script. and Geol._ 4th edit.

"My firm persuasion is," says Dr. Harris, "that the first verse of Genesis
was designed, by the divine Spirit, to announce the absolute origination
of the material universe by the Almighty Creator; and that it is so
understood in the other parts of holy writ; that, passing by an indefinite
interval, the second verse describes the state of our planet immediately
prior to the Adamic creation, and, that the third verse begins the account
of the six days' work."

"If I am reminded, in a tone of animadversion, that I am making science,
in this instance, the interpreter of Scripture, my reply is, that I am
simply making the works of God illustrate his word in a department in
which they speak with a distinct and authoritative voice; that "it is all
the same whether our geological or theological investigations have been
prior, if we have not forced the one into accordance with the
other."--(Davidson, _Sacred Hermeneutics_.) "And that it might be
deserving consideration, whether or not the conduct of those is not open
to just animadversion, who first undertake to pronounce on the meaning of
a passage of Scripture, irrespective of all the appropriate evidence, and
who then, when that evidence is explored and produced, insist on their _a
priori_ interpretation as the only true one."--_Pre-Adamite Earth_, p.
280.

"Our best expositors of Scripture," says Dr. Daniel King, of Glasgow,
"seem to be now pretty generally agreed, that the opening verse in Genesis
has no necessary connection with the verses which follow. They think it
may be understood as making a separate and independent statement regarding
the creation proper, and that the phrase 'in the beginning' may be
expressive of an indefinitely remote antiquity. On this principle the
Bible recognizes, in the first instance, the great age of the earth, and
then tells us of the changes it underwent at a period long subsequent, in
order to render it a fit abode for the family of man. The work of the six
days was not, according to this view, a creation in the strict sense of
the term, but a renovation, a remodelling of preexisting
materials."--_Principles of Geology explained_, &c. p. 40, 1st edit.

"Whether the Mosaic creation," says Dr. Schmucker, of the Lutheran church
in this country, "refers to the present organization of matter, or to the
formation of its primary elements, it is not easy to decide. The question
is certainly not determined by the usage of the original words, [Hebrew]
which are frequently employed to designate mediate formation. Should the
future investigations of physical science bring to light any facts,
indisputably proving the anterior existence of the matter of this earth,
such facts would not militate against the Christian Scriptures."

"That a very long period," says Dr. Pond,--"how long no being but God can
tell,--intervened between the creation of the world and the commencement
of the six days' work recorded in the following verses of the first
chapter of Genesis, there can, I think, be no reasonable doubt."

But I need not adduce any more advocates of the interpretation of Genesis,
for which I contend. Men more respected and confided in by the Christian
world I could not quote, though I might enlarge the number; but I trust it
is unnecessary. I trust that all who hear me are satisfied that the Mosaic
history of the creation of the world does fairly admit of an
interpretation which leaves an undefined interval between the creation of
matter and the six days' work. Let it be recollected that I do not
maintain that this is the most natural interpretation, but only that the
passage will fairly admit it by the strict rules of exegesis. The question
still remains to be considered, whether there is sufficient reason to
adopt it as the true interpretation. To show that there is, I now make my
appeal to geology. This is a case, it seems to me, in which we may call in
the aid of science to ascertain the true meaning of Scripture. The
question is, Does geology teach, distinctly and uncontrovertibly, that the
world must have existed during a long period prior to the existence of the
races of organized beings that now occupy its surface?

To give a popular view of the evidence sustaining the affirmative of this
question is no easy task. It needs a full and accurate acquaintance with
the multiplied facts of geology, and, what is still more rare, a
familiarity with geological reasoning, in order to feel the full force of
the arguments that prove the high antiquity of the globe. Yet I know that
I have a right to presume upon a high degree of scientific knowledge, and
an accurate acquaintance with geology, among those whom I address.

In the first place, I must recur to a principle already briefly stated in
a former lecture, viz., that a careful examination of the rocks presents
irresistible evidence, that, in their present condition, they are all the
result of second causes; in other words, they are not now in the condition
in which they were originally created. Some of them have been melted and
reconsolidated, and crowded in between others, or spread over them. Others
have been worn down into mud, sand, and gravel, by water and other agents,
and again cemented together, after having enveloped multitudes of animals
and plants, which are now imbedded as organic remains. In short, all known
rocks appear to have been brought into their present state by chemical or
mechanical agencies. It is indeed easy to say that these appearances are
deceptive, and that these rocks may, with perfect ease, have been created
just as we now find them. But it is not easy to retain this opinion, after
having carefully examined them. For the evidence that they are of
secondary origin is nearly as strong, and of the same kind too, as it is
that the remains of edifices lately discovered in Central America are the
work of man, and were not created in their present condition.

In the second place, processes are going on by which rocks are formed on a
small scale, of the same character as those which constitute the great
mass of the earth. Hence it is fair to infer, that all the rocks were
formed in a similar manner. Beds of gravel, for instance, are sometimes
cemented together by heat, or iron, or lime, so as to resemble exactly the
conglomerates found in mountain masses among the ancient rocks. Clay is
sometimes converted into slate by heat, as is soft marl into limestone, by
the same cause. In fact, we find causes now in operation that produce all
the varieties of known rocks, except some of the oldest, which seem to
need only a greater intensity in some of the causes now at work to produce
them. By ascertaining the rate at which rocks are now forming, therefore,
we can form some opinion as to the time requisite to produce those
constituting the crust of the globe. If, for instance, we can determine
how fast ponds, lakes, and oceans are filling up with mud, sand, and
gravel, conveyed to their bottoms, we can judge of the period necessary to
produce those rocks which appear to have been formed in a similar manner;
and if there is any evidence that the process was more rapid in early
times, we can make due allowance.

In the third place, all the stratified rocks appear to have been formed
out of the fragments of other rocks, worn down by the action of water and
atmospheric agencies. This is particularly true of that large proportion
of these rocks which contain the remains of animals and plants. The mud,
sand, and gravel of which these are mostly composed, must have been worn
from rocks previously existing, and have been transported into lakes, and
the ocean, as the same process is now going on. There the animals and
plants, which died in the waters, and were transported thither by rivers,
must have been buried; next, the rocks must have been hardened into stone,
by admixture with lime, or iron, or by internal heat; and, finally, have
been raised above the waters, so as to become dry land. Beds of limestone
are interstratified with those of shale, sandstone, and conglomerate; but
these form only a small proportion of the whole, and, besides, were mostly
formed in an analogous manner, though by agencies more decidedly chemical.

Now, for the most part, this process of forming rocks by the accumulation
of mud, sand, and gravel is very slow. In general, such accumulations, at
the bottom of lakes and the ocean, do not increase more than a few inches
in a century. During violent floods, indeed, and in a few limited spots,
the accumulation is much more rapid; as in the Lake of Geneva, through
which the Rhone, loaded with detritus from the Alps, passes, where a delta
has been formed two miles long and nine hundred feet thick, within eight
hundred years.[7] And occasionally such rapid depositions probably took
place while the older rocks were in the course of formation. But in
general, the work seems to have gone on as slowly as it usually does at
present.

Yet, in the fourth place, there must have been time enough since the
creation to deposit at least ten miles of rocks in perpendicular
thickness, in the manner that has been described. For the stratified rocks
are at least of that thickness in Europe, and in this country much
thicker; or, if we regard only the fossiliferous strata as thus deposited,
(since some geologists might hesitate to admit that the non-fossiliferous
rocks were thus produced,) these are six and a half miles thick in Europe,
and still thicker in this country. How immense a period was requisite for
such a work! Some do, indeed, contend that the work, in all cases, as we
have allowed it in a few, may have been vastly more rapid than at the
present day. But the manner in which the materials are arranged, and
especially the preservation of the most delicate parts of the organic
remains, often in the very position in which the animals died, show the
quiet and slow manner in which the process went on.

In the fifth place, it is certain that, since man existed on the globe,
materials for the production of rocks have not accumulated to the average
thickness of more than one hundred or two hundred feet; although in
particular places, as already mentioned, the accumulations are thicker.
The evidence of this position is, that neither the works nor the remains
of man have been found any deeper in the earth than in the upper part of
that superficial deposit called _alluvium_. But had man existed while the
other deposits were going on, no possible reason can be given why his
bones and the fruits of his labors should not be found mixed with those of
other animals, so abundant in the rocks, to the depth of six or seven
miles. In the last six thousand years, then, only one five hundredth part
of the stratified rocks has been accumulated. I mention this fact, not as
by any means an exact, but only an approximate, measure of the time in
which the older rocks were deposited; for the precise age of the world is
probably a problem which science never can solve. All the means of
comparison within our reach enable us to say, only, that its duration must
have been immense.

In the sixth place, during the deposition of the stratified rocks, a great
number of changes must have occurred in the matter of which they are
composed. Hundreds of such changes can be easily counted, and they often
imply great changes in the waters holding the materials in solution or
suspension; such changes, indeed, as must have required different oceans
over the same spot. Such events could not have taken place without
extensive elevations and subsidences of the earth's crust; nor could such
vertical movements have happened without much intervening time, as many
facts, too technical to be here detailed, show. Here, then, we have
another evidence of vast periods of time occupied in the secondary
production and arrangements of the earth's crust.

In the seventh place, numerous races of animals and plants must have
occupied the globe previous to those which now inhabit it, and have
successively passed away, as catastrophes occurred, or the climate became
unfit for their residence. Not less than thirty thousand species have
already been dug out of the rocks; and excepting a few hundred species,
mostly of sea shells, occurring in the uppermost rocks, none of them
correspond to those now living on the globe. In Europe, they are found to
the depth of about six and a half miles; and in this country, deeper; and
no living species is found more than one twelfth of this depth. All the
rest are specifically and often generically unlike living species; and the
conclusion seems irresistible, that they must have lived and died before
the creation of the present species. Indeed, so different was the climate
in those early times,--it having been much warmer than at present in most
parts of the world,--that but few of the present races could have lived
then. Still further: it appears that, during the whole period since
organized beings first appeared on the globe, not less than four, or five,
and probably more--some think as many as ten or twelve--entire races have
passed away, and been succeeded by recent ones; so that the globe has
actually changed all its inhabitants half a dozen times. Yet each of the
successive groups occupied it long enough to leave immense quantities of
their remains, which sometimes constitute almost entire mountains. And in
general, these groups became extinct in consequence of a change of
climate; which, if imputed to any known cause, must have been an extremely
slow process.

Now, these results are no longer to be regarded as the dreams of fancy,
but the legitimate deductions from long and careful observation of facts.
And can any reasonable man conceive how such changes can have taken place
since the six days of creation, or within the last six thousand years? In
order to reconcile them with such a supposition, we must admit of
hypotheses and absurdities more wild and extravagant than have ever been
charged upon geology. But admit of a long period between the first
creative act and the six days, and all difficulties vanish.

In the eighth place, the denudations and erosions that have taken place on
the earth's surface indicate a far higher antiquity to the globe, even
since it assumed essentially its present condition, than the common
interpretation of Genesis admits. The geologist can prove that in many
cases the rocks have been worn away, by the slow action of the ocean, more
than two miles in depth in some regions, and those very wide; as in South
Wales, in England. As the continents rose from the ocean, the slow
drainage by the rivers has excavated numerous long and deep gorges,
requiring periods incalculably extended.

I do not wonder that, when the sceptic stands upon the banks of Niagara
River, and sees how obviously the splendid cataract has worn out the deep
gorge extending to Lake Ontario, he should feel that there is a standing
proof that the common opinion, as to the age of the world, cannot be true;
and hence be led to discard the Bible, if he supposes that to be a true
interpretation.

But the Niagara gorge is only one among a multitude of examples of erosion
that might be quoted; and some of them far more striking to a geologist.
On Oak Orchard Creek, and the Genesee River, between Rochester and Lake
Ontario, are similar erosions, seven miles long. On the latter river,
south of Rochester, we find a cut from Mount Morris to Portage, sometimes
four hundred feet deep. On many of our south-western rivers we have what
are called _canyons_, or gorges, often two hundred and fifty feet deep, and
several miles long. Near the source of Missouri River are what are called
the Gates of the Rocky Mountains, where there is a gorge six miles long
and twelve hundred feet deep. Similar cuts occur on the Columbia River,
hundreds of feet deep, through the hard trap rock, for hundreds of miles,
between the American Falls and the Dalles. At St. Anthony's Falls, on the
Mississippi, that river has worn a passage in limestone seven miles long,
which distance the cataract has receded. On the Potomac, ten miles west of
Washington, the Great Falls have worn back a passage sixty to sixty-five
feet deep, four miles, continuously--a greater work, considering the
nature of the rock, than has been done by the Niagara. The passage for the
Hudson, through the highlands, is probably an example of river erosion; as
is also that of the Connecticut at Brattleboro' and Bellows Falls. In
these places, it can be proved that the river was once at least seven
hundred feet above its present bed. On the Deerfield River, a tributary of
the Connecticut, we have a gulf called the _Ghor_, eight miles long and
several hundred feet deep, cut crosswise through the mica slate and gneiss
by the stream.

On the eastern continent I might quote a multitude of analogous cases.
There is, for instance, the Wady el Jeib, in soft limestone, within the
Wady Arabah, south of the Dead Sea. The defile is one hundred and fifty
feet deep, half a mile wide, and forty miles long. In Mount Lebanon,
several remarkable chasms in limestone have been described by American
missionaries, as that on Dog River, (Lycus of the ancients,) six miles
long, seventy or eighty feet deep, and from one hundred and twenty to one
hundred and sixty feet wide; also, Wady Barida, whose walls are six
hundred to eight hundred feet high. On the River Ravendoor, in Kurdistan,
is a gorge, described in a letter from Dr. Perkins, one thousand feet
deep. Another on the Euphrates, near Diadeen, is seventy feet deep, and is
spanned by a natural bridge one hundred feet long. On the River Terek, in
the Dariel Caucasus, is a pass one hundred and twenty miles long, whose
walls rise from one thousand to three thousand feet high. In Africa, the
River Zaire has cut a passage, forty miles long, through mica slate,
quartz, and syenite; and in New South Wales, Cox River passes through a
gorge twenty-two hundred yards wide and eight hundred feet high.

Ninthly. Since the geological period now passing commenced, called the
_alluvial_, or pleistocene period, certain changes have been going on,
which indicate a very great antiquity to the drift period, which was the
commencement of the alluvial period, and has been considered among the
most recent of geological events. I refer to the formation of deltas and
of terraces.

Of the deltas I will mention but a single example, to which, however, many
others correspond. The Mississippi carries down to its mouth
28,188,803,892 cubic feet of sediment yearly, which it deposits; or one
cubic mile in five years and eighty-one days. Now, as the whole delta
contains twenty-seven hundred and twenty cubic miles, it must have
required fourteen thousand two hundred and four years to form it in this
manner.

Terraces occur along some of the rivers of our country from four hundred
to five hundred feet above their present beds, and around our lakes to the
height of nearly one thousand feet. They are composed of gravel, sand,
clay, and loam, that have been comminuted, and sorted, and deposited, by
water chiefly. At a height two or three times greater, on the same rivers
and lakes, we find what seem to be ancient sea beaches, of the same
materials, deposited earlier, and less comminuted. The same facts also
occur in Europe, and probably in Asia.

Now, it seems quite certain, that these beaches and terraces were formed
as the continents were being drained of the waters of the ocean, and the
rivers were cutting down their beds; which last process has been going on
in many places to the present day. Yet scarcely nowhere, since the memory
of man, have even the lowest of these terraces and beaches been formed,
save on a very limited scale, and of a few feet in height. The lowest of
them have been the sites of towns and cities, ever since the settlement of
our country, and on the eastern continent much longer. Yet we see the
processes by which they have been formed now in operation; but they have
scarcely made any progress during the period of human history. How vast
the period, then, since the work was first commenced! Yet even its
commencement seems to have been no farther back than the drift epoch,
since that deposit lies beneath the terraces. But the drift period was
comparatively a very recent one on the geological scale. How do such facts
impress us with the vast duration of the globe since the first series of
changes commenced!

Finally. There is no little reason to believe that, previous to the
formation of the stratified rocks, the earth passed through changes that
required vast periods of time, by which it was gradually brought into a
habitable state. It is even believed that one of its earliest conditions
was that of vapor; that, gradually condensing, it became a melted globe of
fire, and then, as it gradually cooled, a crust formed over its surface;
and so at last it became habitable. All this is indeed hypothesis; and,
therefore, I do not place it in the same rank as the other proofs of the
earth's antiquity, already adduced. Still this hypothesis has so much
evidence in its favor, that not a few of the ablest and most cautious
philosophers of the present day have adopted it. And if it be indeed true,
it throws back the creation of the universe to a period remote beyond
calculation or conception.

Now, let this imperfect summary of evidence in favor of the earth's high
antiquity be candidly weighed, and can any one think it strange that every
man, who has carefully and extensively examined the rocks in their native
beds, is entirely convinced of its validity? Men of all professions, and
of diverse opinions concerning the Bible, have been geologists; but on
this point they are unanimous, however they may differ as to other points
in the science. Must we not, then, regard this fact as one of the settled
principles of science? If so, who will hesitate to say that it ought to
settle the interpretation of the first verse of Genesis, in favor of that
meaning which allows an intervening period between the creation of matter
and the creation of light? This is the grand point which I have aimed to
establish; and, in conclusion, I beg leave to make a few remarks by way of
inference.

First. This interpretation of Genesis is entirely sufficient to remove all
apparent collision between geology and revelation. It gives the geologist
full scope for his largest speculations concerning the age of the world.
It permits him to maintain that its first condition was as unlike to the
present as possible, and allows him time enough for all the changes of
mineral constitution and organic life which its strata reveal. It supposes
that all these are passed over in silence by the sacred writers, because
irrelevant to the object of revelation, but full of interest and
instruction to the men of science, who should afterwards take pleasure in
exploring the works of God.

It supposes the six days' work of creation to have been confined entirely
to the fitting up the world in its present condition, and furnishing it
with its present inhabitants. Thus, while it gives the widest scope to the
geologist, it does not encroach upon the literalities of the Bible; and
hence it is not strange that it should be almost universally adopted by
geologists as well as by many eminent divines.

I would not forget to notice in this connection, however, a recent
proposed extension of this interpretation by Dr. John Pye Smith, founded
on the principle already illustrated, that the sacred writers adapted
their language to the state of knowledge among the Jews. By the term
_earth_, in Genesis, he supposes, was designed not the whole terraqueous
globe, but "the part of our world which God was adapting for the
dwelling-place of man and animals connected with him." And the narrative
of the six days' work is a description adapted to the ideas and
capacities of mankind in the earliest ages, of a series of operations, by
which the Being of omnipotent wisdom and goodness adjusted and furnished,
not the earth generally, but, as the particular subject under
consideration here, a PORTION of its surface for most glorious purposes.
This portion of the earth he conceives to have been a large part of Asia,
lying between the Caucasian ridge, the Caspian Sea and Tartary on the
north, the Persian and Indian Seas on the south, and the high mountain
ridges which run at considerable distance on their eastern and western
flanks. This region was first, by atmospheric and geological causes of
previous operation, under the will of the Almighty, brought into a
condition of superficial ruin, or some kind of general disorder, probably
by volcanic agency; it was submerged, covered with fogs and clouds, and
subsequently elevated, and the atmosphere, by the fourth day, rendered
pellucid.--_Script. and Geol._ p. 275, 2d edit.

Without professing to adopt fully this view of my learned and venerable
friend, I cannot but remark, that it explains one or two difficulties on
this subject, which I shall more fully explain farther on. One is, the
difficulty of conceiving how the inferior animals could have been
distributed to their present places of residence from a single centre of
creation without a miracle. Certain it is, that, as the climate and
position of land and water now are, they could not thus migrate without
certain destruction to many of them. But by this theory they might have
been created within the districts which they now occupy.

Another difficulty solved by this theory is, that several hundred species
of animals, that were created long before man, as their remains found in
the tertiary strata show, still survive, and there is no evidence that
they ever became extinct; nor need they have been destroyed and
recreated, if Dr. Smith's theory be true. Nevertheless, it does not appear
to me essential to a satisfactory reconciliation of geology and
revelation, that we should adopt it. But coming from such high authority,
and sustained as it is by powerful arguments, it commends itself to our
candid examination.

Secondly. I remark, that it is not necessary that we should be perfectly
sure that the method which has been described, or any other, of bringing
geology into harmony with the Bible, is infallibly true. It is only
necessary that it should be sustained by probable evidence; that it should
fairly meet the geological difficulty on the one hand, and do no violence
to the language or spirit of the Bible on the other. This is sufficient,
surely, to satisfy every philosophical mind, that there is no collision
between geology and revelation. But should it appear hereafter, either
from the discoveries of the geologist or the philologist, that our views
must be somewhat modified, it would not show that the previous views had
been insufficient to harmonize the two subjects; but only that here, as in
every other department of human knowledge, perfection is not attained,
except by long-continued efforts.

I make these remarks, because it is well known that other modes, besides
that which I have defended, have been proposed to accomplish the same
object; and it is probable that, even to this day, one or two of these
modes may be defended, although the general opinion of geologists is in
favor of that which I have exhibited.

Some, for instance, have supposed that the fossiliferous strata may all
have been deposited in the sixteen hundred years between the creation and
the deluge, and by that catastrophe have been lifted out of the ocean.
Others have imagined them all produced by that event. But the most
plausible theory regards the six days of creation as periods of great,
though indefinite length, during which all the changes exhibited by the
strata of rocks took place. The arguments in defence of this view are the
following: 1. The word _day_ is often used in Scripture to express a
period of indefinite length. (Luke xvii. 24. John viii. 56. Job xiv. 6.)
2. The sun, moon, and stars were not created till the fourth day; so that
the revolution of the earth on its axis, in twenty-four hours, may not
have existed previously, and the light and darkness that alternated may
have had reference to some other standard. 3. The Sabbath, or seventh day,
in which God rested from his work, has not yet terminated; and there is
reason to suppose the demiurgic days may have been at least of equal
length. 4. This interpretation corresponds remarkably with the traditional
cosmogonies of some heathen nations, as the ancient Etruscans and modern
Hindoos; and it was also adopted by Philo and other Jewish writers. 5. The
order of creation, as described in Genesis, corresponds to that developed
by geology. This order, according to Cuvier and Professor Jameson, is as
follows: 1. The earth was covered with the sea without inhabitants. 2.
Plants were created on the third day, and are found abundantly in the coal
measures. 3. On the fifth day, the inhabitants of the waters, then flying
things, then great reptiles, and then mammiferous animals, were created.
4. On the sixth day, man was created.

The following are the objections to this interpretation: 1. The word _day_
is not used figuratively in other places of Genesis, (unless perhaps Gen.
ii. 4,) though it is sometimes so used in other parts of Scripture. 2. In
the fourth commandment, where the days of creation are referred to, (Exod.
xx. 9, 10, 11,) no one can doubt but that the six days of labor and the
Sabbath, spoken of in the ninth and tenth verses, are literal days. By
what rule of interpretation can the same word in the next verse be made to
mean indefinite periods? 3. From Gen. ii. 5, compared with Gen. i. 11, 12,
it seems that it had not rained on the earth till the third day--a fact
altogether probable if the days were of twenty-four hours, but absurd if
they were long periods. 4. Such a meaning is forced and unnatural, and,
therefore, not to be adopted without urgent necessity. 5. This hypothesis
assumes that Moses describes the creation of all the animals and plants
that have ever lived on the globe. But geology decides that the species
now living, since they are not found in the rocks any lower down than man
is, (with a few exceptions,) could not have been contemporaries with those
in the rocks, but must have been created when man was; that is, on the
sixth day. Of such a creation no mention is made in Genesis. The inference
is, that Moses does not describe the creation of the existing races, but
only of those that lived thousands of years earlier, and whose existence
was scarcely suspected till modern times. Who will admit such an
absurdity? If any one takes the ground that the existing races were
created with the fossil ones, on the third and fifth days, then he must
show, what no one can, why the remains of the former are not found mixed
with the latter. 6. Though there is a general resemblance between the
order of creation, as described in Genesis and by geology, yet when we
look at the details of the creation of the organic world, as required by
this hypothesis, we find manifest discrepancy, instead of the coincidence
asserted by some distinguished advocates of these views. Thus the Bible
represents plants only to have been created on the third day, and animals
not till the fifth; and hence, at least, the lower half of the
fossiliferous rocks ought to contain nothing but vegetables. Whereas, in
fact, the lower half of these rocks, all below the carboniferous,
although abounding in animals, contain scarcely any plants, and those in
the lowest strata, fucoids, or sea-weeds. But the Mosaic account of the
third day's work evidently describes flowering and seed-bearing plants,
not flowerless and seedless algae. Again: reptiles are described in Genesis
as created on the fifth day; but reptilia and batrachians existed as early
as the time when the lower carboniferous, and even old red sandstone
strata, were in a course of deposition, as their tracks on those rocks in
Nova Scotia and Pennsylvania evince. In short, if we maintain that Moses
describes fossil as well as living species, we find discrepancy, instead
of correspondence, between his order of creation and that of geology. But
admit that he describes only existing species, and all difficulties
vanish.

It appears, then, that the objections to this interpretation of the word
_day_ are more geological than exegetical. It has accordingly been mostly
abandoned by men, who, from their knowledge both of geology and scriptural
exegesis, were best qualified to judge. And even those who are inclined to
adopt it do also believe in the existence of a long period between the
beginning and the demiurgic days. From the earliest times, however, in
which we have writings upon the Scriptures, we find men doubting whether
the demiurgic days of Moses are to be taken in a strictly literal sense.
Josephus and Philo regarded the six days' work as metaphorical. Origen
took a similar view, and St. Augustin says, "It is difficult, if not
impossible, for us to conceive what sort of days these were." In more
modern times, we find many able writers, as Hahn, Hensler, De Luc,
Professors Lee and Wait, of the University of Cambridge, Faber, &c.,
adopting modifications of the same views. Mr. Faber, however, a few years
since, abandoned this opinion; and for the most part, geologists and
theologians prefer to regard the six days as literal days of twenty-four
hours. But, generally, they would not regard the opposite opinion to be as
unreasonable as it would be to reject the Bible from any supposed
collision with geology. Yet, in general, they suppose it sufficient, to
meet all difficulties, to allow of an indefinite interval between the
"beginning" and the six days' work of creation.

In the truly scientific system of theology by the venerable Dr. Knapp, we
find a proposed interpretation of the Mosaic account of the creation, that
would bring it into harmony with geology. "If we would form a clear and
distinct notion of this whole description of creation," says he, "we must
conceive of six separate _pictures_, in which this great work is
represented in each successive stage of its progress towards completion.
And as the performance of the painter, though it must have natural truth
for its foundation, must not be considered, or judged of, as a delineation
of mathematical or scientific accuracy, so neither must this pictorial
representation of the creation be regarded as literally and exactly true."
He then alludes to the various hypotheses respecting the early state of
the matter of the globe, and says, "Any of these hypotheses of the
naturalist may be adopted or rejected, the Mosaic geogony
notwithstanding."[8]

Thirdly. The interpretation of Genesis, for which I have contended in this
lecture, does not affect injuriously any doctrine of revelation. The
community have, indeed, been taught to believe that the universe was all
brought into existence about six thousand years ago; and it always
produces a temporary evil to change the interpretation of a passage of the
Bible, even though, as in this case, it be the result of new light shed
upon it; because it is apt to make individuals of narrow views lose their
confidence in the rules of interpretation. But when the change is once
made, it increases men's confidence in the Word of God, which is only
purified, but not shaken, by all the discoveries of modern science. In the
present case, it does not seem to be of the least consequence, so far as
the great doctrines of the Bible are concerned, whether the world has
stood six thousand, or six hundred thousand years. Nor can I conceive of
any truth of the Bible, which does not shine with at least equal
brightness and glory, if the longest chronological dates be adopted.

Yet, fourthly. I maintain that several of these doctrines are far more
strikingly and profitably exhibited, if the high antiquity of the globe be
admitted. The common interpretation limits the operations of the Deity, so
far as the material universe is concerned, to the last six thousand years.
But the geological view carries the mind back along the flow of countless
ages, and exhibits the wisdom of the Deity carrying forward, with infinite
skill, a vast series of operations, each successive link springing out of
that before it, and becoming more and more beautiful, until the glorious
universe in which we live comes forth, not only the last, but the best of
all. All this while, too, we perceive the heart of infinite Benevolence at
work, either in fitting up the world for its future races of inhabitants,
or in placing upon it creatures exactly adapted to its varying condition;
until man, at last, the crown of all, makes it his delightful abode, with
nothing to lament but his own apostasy,--with every thing perfect but
himself. Can the mind enter such an almost boundless field of
contemplation as this, and not feel itself refreshed, and expanded, and
filled with more exalted conceptions of the divine plans and divine
benevolence than could possibly be obtained within the narrow limits of
six thousand years? But I will not enlarge; for I hope I may be allowed,
in future lectures, to enter this rich field of thought, when we have more
leisure to survey its beautiful prospects, and pluck its golden fruit.

Finally. If the geological interpretation of Genesis be true, then it
should be taught to all classes of the community. It is, indeed, unwise to
alter received interpretations of Scripture without very strong reasons.
We should be satisfied that the new light, which has come to us, is not
that of a transient meteor, but of a permanent luminary. We should, also,
be satisfied, that the proposed change is consistent with the established
rules of philology. If we introduce change of this sort before these
points are settled, even upon passages that have no connection with
fundamental moral principles, we shall distress many an honest and pious
heart, and expose ourselves to the necessity of further change. But on the
other hand, if we delay the change long after these points are fairly
settled, we shall excite the suspicion that we dread to have the light of
science fall upon the Bible. Nor let it be forgotten how disastrous has
ever been the influence of the opinion that theologians teach one thing,
and men of science another. Now, in the case under consideration, is there
any reason to doubt the high antiquity of the globe, as demonstrated by
geology? If any point, not capable of mathematical demonstration in
physical science, is proved, surely this truth is established. And how
easily reconciled to the inspired record, by an interpretation entirely
consistent with the rules of philology, and with the scope of the
passage, and the tenor of the Bible! It seems to me far more natural, and
easy to understand, than that interpretation which it became necessary to
introduce when the Copernican system was demonstrated to be true. The
latter must have seemed to conflict strongly with the natural and most
obvious meaning of certain passages of the Bible, at a time when men's
minds were ignorant of astronomy, and, I may add, of the true mode of
interpreting the language of Scripture respecting natural phenomena.
Nevertheless, the astronomical exegesis prevailed, and every child can now
see its reasonableness. So it seems to me that the child can easily
apprehend the geological interpretation and its reasons. Why, then, should
it not be taught to children, that they may not be liable to distrust the
whole Bible, when they come to the study of geology? I rejoice, however,
that the fears and prejudices of the pious and the learned are so fast
yielding to evidence; and I anticipate the period, when, on this subject,
the child will learn the same thing in the Sabbath school and the literary
institution. Nay, I anticipate the time as not distant, when the high
antiquity of the globe will be regarded as no more opposed to the Bible
than the earth's revolution round the sun and on its axis. Soon shall the
horizon, where geology and revelation meet, be cleared of every cloud, and
present only an unbroken and magnificent circle of truth.




LECTURE III.

DEATH A UNIVERSAL LAW OF ORGANIC BEINGS ON THIS GLOBE FROM THE BEGINNING.


Death has always been regarded by man as the king of terrors, and the
climax of all mortal evils; and by Christians its introduction into the
world has generally been imputed to the apostasy of our first parents. For
the threatening announced to them in Eden was, _In the day thou eatest of
the forbidden fruit thou shalt surely die_, implying that if they did not
eat thereof they might live. But _when the woman saw the tree was good for
food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to
make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also
to her husband with her, and he did eat_. As the result, it is generally
supposed that a great change took place in animals and plants, and from
being immortal, they became mortal, in consequence of this fatal deed. But
geology asserts that death existed in the world untold ages before man's
creation, while physiology declares it to be a universal law of nature,
and a wise and benevolent provision in such a world as ours. Now, the
question is, Do not these different statements conflict with one another?
and if so, is the discrepancy apparent only, or real? These are the
questions which I now propose to examine, by all the light which we can
obtain from the Bible and from science.

_The first point to be ascertained in this investigation will be, what the
Bible teaches on this subject._

In the first place, it distinctly informs us that the death which man
experiences, came upon him in consequence of sin.

The declaration of Paul on this subject is as distinct as language can be.
_By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin, and so death
passed upon all men, for that all have sinned._ This corresponds with the
original threatening respecting the forbidden fruit. We know that our
first parents ate of it; we know, also, that they died; and the apostle
places these two facts in the relation of cause and effect.

In the second place, the Bible does not inform us whether the death of the
inferior animals and plants is the consequence of man's transgression.

In order to prove this statement, it is necessary to show that the
language of the Bible, which distinctly ascribes the introduction of death
into the world, is limited to man. The first part of the sentence from
Paul, just quoted, is indeed very general, and may include all organic
natures. _By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin._ What
terms more general or explicit than these could be used? Yet the remainder
of the sentence shows that the apostle had man mainly in his eye; _and so
death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned_. The death here
spoken of is limited expressly to man; and, therefore, it is not necessary
to show that the same terms, in the first part of the sentence, had a more
extended meaning. Death is spoken of here as the result of sin, and
cannot, therefore, embrace animals and plants, which are incapable of sin.
But after all, the first part of the sentence may intend to teach a
general truth respecting the origin of every kind of death in the world.
It will be seen in the sequel, that to such a meaning I have no objection,
if it can be established.

Another very explicit passage on the introduction of death into the world
is found in Corinthians: _Since by man came death, by man came also the
resurrection of the dead._ Here, too, the last clause of the sentence
limits the meaning to the human family. For no one will doubt that Christ
is the man here spoken of, by whom came the resurrection of the dead. Now,
unless the inferior animals and plants will share in a resurrection in
consequence of what Christ has done, and in the redemption wrought out by
him too, they cannot be included in this passage. And if neither of the
texts now quoted extend in their application beyond the human race, I know
of no other passage in the Bible that teaches, directly or inferentially,
that death among the inferior animals or plants resulted from man's
apostasy. I do not deny that there may be a connection between these
events; certainly the Scriptures do not teach the contrary. But they
appear to me rather to leave the question of such a connection undecided,
and open for the examination of philosophers. If so, we may reason
concerning the dissolution of animals, except men, without reference to
the Scriptures.

_Under the second part of this investigation, I shall endeavor to show
that geology proves violent and painful death to have existed in the world
long before man's creation._

In the oldest of the sedimentary rocks, the remains of animals occur in
vast numbers; nor will any one, I trust, of ordinary intelligence, doubt
but these relics once constituted living beings. Through the whole series
of rocks, six miles in thickness, we find similar remains, even increasing
in numbers as we ascend; but it is not till we reach the very highest
stratum, the mere superficial coat of alluvium, that we find the remains
of man. The vast multitudes, then, of organized beings that lie entombed
in rocks below alluvium, must have yielded to death long before man
received his sentence, _Dust thou art, and to dust shalt thou return._
Will any one maintain that none of these animals preceded man in the
period of their existence? Then why are the remains of men not found with
theirs? for his bony skeleton is as likely to be preserved and petrified
as theirs. Moreover, so unlike to man and other existing tenants of the
globe are many of these ancient animals, that the sure laws of comparative
anatomy show us, that both races could not live and flourish in a world
adapted to the one or the other. If the temperature had been warm enough
for the fossil tribes, and all the circumstances of food and climate
congenial to their natures, they would have been unsuited to the present
races; and if adapted to the latter, the former must have perished. The
difference between the animals and plants dug out of the rocks in this
latitude, and those now inhabiting the same region of country, is
certainly as great as that between the animals and plants of the torrid
and temperate zones; in most cases it is greater. Now, suppose that the
animals and plants of the temperate zones were to change places with those
between the tropics. A few species might survive, but the greater part
would be destroyed. Hence, _a fortiori_, had the living beings now
entombed in the rocks been placed in the same climate with those now alive
upon the globe, the like result would have followed. I say _a fortiori_;
that is, for a stronger reason, the greater number must have perished; and
the stronger reason is, the greater difference between fossil and living
species, than between the latter in torrid and temperate latitudes. It is
true that man is among the species capable of being acclimated to great
extremes. And yet no physiologist will imagine that even his nature could
have long survived in such a climate as formerly existed, when probably
the atmosphere was loaded with carbonic acid and other mephitic gases,
and with moisture and miasms, the result of a rank vegetation, and of a
temperature higher than now exists in equatorial countries.

This argument, furnished by comparative anatomy, to show that man and the
fossil animals could not have been contemporaries, will probably seem to
have little force to those who are not familiar with the history of
organic life on the globe, and the distribution of species. It is not
generally known that both animals and plants are usually confined to a
particular district, and that a removal beyond its boundaries, or the
access of a few more degrees of cold, or heat, than is common in the place
assigned them by nature, will destroy them. To him who understands this
curious history, the argument under consideration is perfectly
satisfactory, to prove the existence and consequent dissolution of myriads
of living beings, anterior to man. "Judging by these indications of the
habits of the animals," says the distinguished anatomist, Sir Charles
Bell, "we acquire a knowledge of the condition of the earth during their
period of existence; that it was suited at one time to the scaly tribe of
the lacertae, with languid motion; at another, to animals of higher
organization, with more varied and lively habits; and finally, we learn
that at any period previous to man's creation, the surface of the earth
would have been unsuitable to him. Any other hypothesis than that of a new
creation of animals, suited to the successive changes in the inorganic
matter of the globe, the condition of the water, atmosphere, and
temperature, brings with it only an accumulation of difficulties."--_The
Hand, its Mech._, &c. pp. 31 and 115.

But when arguing with those who do not feel the force of this argument, I
would fall back upon that derived from the fact, that of the ten thousand
species of animals dug out of the rocks beneath alluvium, no relic of man
has been found; and ask them whether they can explain such a fact, except
by the supposition that man was not their contemporary.

In his admirable Bridgewater Treatise, Dr. Buckland has conclusively shown
that the same great system of organization and adaptation has always
prevailed on the globe. It was the same in those immensely remote ages,
when the fossil animals lived, as it now is. And there is one feature of
that system which deserves notice in this argument. At present, we know
that there exist large tribes of animals, called carnivorous, provided
with organs expressly designed to enable them to destroy other animals,
and of course to inflict on them violent and painful death. Exactly
similar tribes, and in a like proportion, are found among the fossil
animals. They were not always the same tribes; but when one class of
carnivora disappeared, another was created to take their place, in order
to keep down the excessive multiplication of other races, which appears to
be the grand object accomplished by the carnivorous races. And that
animals of such an organization not only lived in the ages preceding man's
creation, but actually destroyed contemporary species, we have the
evidence in the remains of the one animal enclosed in the body of another,
by whom it was devoured for food and both are now converted into rock, and
will testify to the most sceptical, that death among animals existed in
the world before man's transgression.

_Under the third part of this investigation, I shall attempt to show that
physiology teaches us that death is a general law of organic natures._

It is not confined to animals, but embraces also plants. As they
correspond in a striking manner to animals in their reproduction and
growth, so they do in their decay and dissolution. In short, wherever in
nature we find life and organization, death is inevitable. The amount of
vital energy varies in different species, and in individuals; but in them
all, it at length becomes exhausted, and the functions cease. After a
certain period, the vessels which convey the nutritive materials, and
elaborate the proximate principles, become choked with excrementitious
matter, assimilation is performed imperfectly, and gradually the vital
energies are overpowered, and yield up their charge to the disorganizing
power of chemical agencies. We can hardly see why the delicate machinery
cannot hold out longer than it does, or even indefinitely. But experience
shows us that an irresistible law of nature has fixed the period of its
operations. In the expressive language of Scripture, which applies to
plants as well as animals, _there is no discharge in that war_.

A little reflection will convince any one, that in such a system as exists
in the world, this universal decay and dissolution are indispensable. For
dead organic matter is essential to the support and nourishment of living
beings. Admit, for the sake of the argument, (although it is obviously
absurd in respect to the carnivorous races,) that animals might be
supported by vegetable food. Yet, if plants must furnish nourishment for
their successors, as well as for animals, the organic matter must at
length be exhausted. And, furthermore, how could animals feed on plants
without destroying, as they now do, multitudes of minute insects and
animalcules? It is obvious, also, that, for a variety of reasons, the
multiplication of animals must soon be arrested, or famine would be the
result, or the world would be more than full. In short, it would require
an entirely different system in nature from the present, in order to
exclude death from the world. To the existing system it is as essential
as gravitation, and apparently just as much a law of nature.

To strengthen this argument still further, comparative anatomy testifies
that large classes of animals have a structure evidently intended to
enable them to feed on other tribes. The teeth of the more perfect
carnivorous animals are adapted for seizing and tearing their prey, while
those which feed on vegetables have cutting and grinding teeth, but not
the canine. So the whole digestive apparatus in the carnivora is more
simple, and of less extent, than in the herbivorous tribes, while in the
former the gastric juice acts more readily upon flesh, and in the latter
upon vegetables. The muscular apparatus, also, is developed in greater
power in the former than in the latter, especially in the neck and fore
paw. Throughout all the classes of animals, those which feed on flesh are
armed with poisonous fangs, or talons, or beaks, or other formidable
weapons, while the vegetable feeders are usually in a great measure
defenceless. In short, in the one class we find a perfect adaptation, in
all the organs, for destroying, digesting, and assimilating other animals,
and in the other class, an arrangement, equally obvious, for procuring and
digesting vegetables. Indeed, you need only show the anatomist the
skeleton, or even a very small part of the skeleton, of an unknown animal,
to enable him, in most cases, to decide, what is the food of that animal,
with almost as much certainty as if he had for years observed its habits.
Who can doubt, then, that when a carnivorous animal employs the weapons
with which nature has furnished it for the destruction of another animal,
in order to satisfy its hunger, that it acts in obedience to a law of its
being, originally impressed upon its constitution by the Creator? It is
true, that even the flesh-eating animals may be taught for a time to
subsist upon vegetable products. But this is unnatural; and such an
animal usually pays the price of thus inverting its original instinct, by
disease and premature decay. In a state of nature, an animal would starve
rather than thus violate its instinctive desires.

I will allude to only one other fact, that shows death to be inseparable
from organized beings, without a constant miraculous interference, in such
a world as ours. Animal organization, in all conceivable circumstances,
must be liable to accident, from mere mechanical force, by which life
would be destroyed. It may be possible, perhaps, to conceive of a material
tenement for the soul, which should be unaffected by all forms of
mechanical violence and chemical action; if, for instance, its
constitution were analogous to that supposed medium through which light,
heat, and electricity, and perhaps gravitation, act. But, surely, our
present bodies are far enough removed from such conditions, being of all
terrestrial things the most liable to ruin from the causes above
mentioned.

The conclusions from all these facts and reasonings are, that death is an
essential feature of the present system of organized nature; that it must
have entered into the plan of creation in the divine mind originally, and
consequently must have existed in the world before the apostasy of man.
Whether the entire system of death had any connection with that event, or
whether there is any thing peculiar in the death endured by the human
family, will be questions for examination in a subsequent part of my
lecture.

In opposition to these conclusions, however, the common theory of death
maintains that, when man transgressed, there was an entire change
throughout all organic nature; so that animals and plants, which before
contained a principle of immortal life, were smitten with the hereditary
contagion of disease and death. Those animals which, before that event,
were gentle and herbivorous, or frugivorous, suddenly became ferocious or
carnivorous. The climate, too, changed, and the sterile soil sent forth
the thorn and the thistle, in the place of the rich flowers and fruits of
Eden. The great English poet, in his Paradise Lost, has clothed this
hypothesis in a most graphic and philosophical dress; and probably his
descriptions have done more than the Bible to give it currency. Indeed,
could the truth be known, I fancy that, on many points of secondary
importance, the current theology of the day has been shaped quite as much
by the ingenious machinery of Paradise Lost as by the Scriptures; the
theologians having so mixed up the ideas of Milton with those derived from
inspiration, that they find it difficult to distinguish between them.

In the case under consideration, Milton does not limit the change induced
by man's apostasy to sublunary things, but, like a sagacious philosopher,
perceives, also, that the heavenly bodies must have been diverted from
their paths.

                  "At that tasted fruit,
  The sun, as from Thyestian banquet, turned
  His course intended; else-how had the world
  Inhabited, though sinless, more than now,
  Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat?"

This change of the sun's path, as the poet well knew, could be effected
only by some change in the motion of the earth.

  "Some say he bid the angels turn askance
  The poles of earth, twice ten degrees and more,
  From the sun's axle; they with labor pushed
  Oblique the centric globe."

Next we have the effect upon the lower orders of animals described.

                        "Discord first,
  Daughter of sin, among the irrational
  Death introduced: through fierce antipathy,
  Beast now with beast 'gan war, and fowl with fowl,
      And fish with fish; to graze the herb all leaving,
  Devoured each other."

The question arises here, whether such views are sustained by the Bible
and by science. Few, I presume, would seriously maintain that the act of
our first parents, which produced what Dr. Chalmers calls "an unhingement"
of the human race, resulted likewise in a change in the motion of the
earth and the heavenly bodies; since the Bible so clearly describes the
previous ordination of days, years, and seasons, on the fourth day of
creation. And is there any thing in the language of the Bible that will
justify the opinion that such changes as this theory supposes took place
in the productions of the earth, and in the nature of its animals? No
anatomist can surely be made to believe that, without a constant miracle,
our carnivorous animals can have become herbivorous, without such a change
in their organization as must have amounted to a new creation. And such a
metamorphosis can hardly have passed unnoticed by the sacred writer. True,
only the gramineous and herbaceous substances are in the Bible given to
the inferior animals for food, while the fruits are assigned to man. But
this passage seems only to be a designation of one part of vegetable
productions to men, and another to other animals, and can hardly be
supposed to preclude the idea that there might be other tribes requiring
animal food.

The sentence pronounced upon the serpent for his agency in man's apostasy
seems, at first view, favorable to the opinion that animal natures
experienced at the same time important changes; for he is supposed to have
been deprived of limbs, and condemned henceforth to crawl upon the earth,
and to make the dust his food. But is it the most probable interpretation
of this passage, which makes the tempter a literal serpent, or only a
symbolical one? The naturalist does not surely find that serpents live
upon dust, for they all are carnivorous, and they are as perfectly adapted
to crawl upon the ground as other animals to different modes of
progression; and though _cursed above all cattle_, they are apparently as
happy as other animals. Hence the probability is, that an evil spirit is
described in Genesis under the name and figure of a serpent. This
conclusion is supported by other parts of Scripture, where the tempter is
in several places declared to be _the devil_, _the old serpent_, and _the
great dragon_.

A part of the sentence passed upon man seems, also, at first view, to
imply an important change in the vegetable productions of the earth; for
the ground is cursed for man's sake: it would henceforth produce to him
thorns and thistles, and in the sweat of his brow must he eat of the
fruits of it, all the days of his life. Now, will not the condition and
character of Adam show how this curse might be fulfilled, without any
change in the productions of the soil? The garden of Eden, where man had
lived in his innocence, was doubtless some sunny and balmy spot, where the
air was delicious, and the earth poured forth her abundant fruits
spontaneously; and although he was called to keep and dress that garden,
yet, with a contented and holy heart, and with no factitious wants, the
work was neither labor nor sorrow. But now he is driven from that garden
into regions far less fertile, where the sterile soil can be made to
yield its fruits only by the sweat of the brow, and where the thorn and
the thistle dispute their right of soil with salutary plants; and in his
heart, too, unholy and unsubdued passions have place, which will infuse
sorrow into all his labors.

As I have remarked in another place, I cannot see why the functions of
animal and vegetable organization might not have gone on forever without
decay and death, if such had been the Creator's will. In other words, I do
not see why the operation of the organs should at length be impeded and
cease, as we know they do universally. Hence I can conceive that it might
have been otherwise originally; and in the case of man it is possible, as
we shall see farther on, that a change of this sort may have taken place
at the time of his apostasy. But, after all, it strikes me that the Bible
furnishes very clear evidence that the same system of decay and death
prevailed before the apostasy which now prevails. The command given, both
to animals and to man, to be fruitful and multiply, implies the removal of
successive races by death; otherwise the world would ere long be
overstocked. A system of death is certainly a necessary counterpart to a
system of reproduction; and hence, where we know the one to exist, the
presumption is very strong that the other exists also. There is no escape
from this inference, except to call in the aid of miraculous power to
preserve the proper balance among different races of animals, by
preventing their multiplication. Such an interference I am always ready to
admit, where the Scriptures assert it. But to imagine a miracle without
proof, merely to escape a fair conclusion, is, to say the least, very
wretched logic. God never introduces a miracle where he can employ the
ordinary agency of nature for accomplishing his purposes. Nor should we
resort to one without the express testimony of the Bible, which, on this
subject, is our only source of evidence.

We have in Scripture the same kind of proof that plants were subject to
decay and death, before the fall, as we have in respect to animals. For in
the account of the creation of plants on the third day, we find them
described as bearing seeds; and does not this clearly imply the same
system of reproduction which now exists throughout the vegetable kingdom?
In short, an unprejudiced mind, in reading the history of the world in
Genesis, before and after the fall, can hardly fail of the conviction,
that animals and plants were originally created on the same plan, as to
reproduction, decay, and death, which now prevails. Great, indeed, must
have been the change at the fall, if, previous to that time, their
structure excluded all the organs and means of reproduction; as must have
been the case if decay and death were also excluded. And it is strange
that the sacred writer should take no notice of such a change. He states
the effect of sin upon the three parties directly concerned in it, viz.,
the tempter, Adam, and Eve; and if a transformation of all vegetable and
animal natures, great enough almost to constitute a new creation, did take
place, it could hardly have been passed in silence. Even in the case of
man, we have no remarkable physical change. The effect seems to have been
chiefly confined to his intellectual constitution, where we should expect
the effect of sin to be primarily felt. There, indeed, in man's noblest
part, has the havoc been the most terrific, and powerfully has its
operation there reacted upon the body, so as to make death, in the case of
man, the king of terrors.

We find, then, insuperable objections to the prevalent notion that an
entire revolution took place at the fall in the material world, and
especially in organic nature. Those passages of Scripture which,
literally interpreted, seem to imply some changes of this sort, are easily
understood as vivid figurative representations of the effects of sin upon
men, while their literal interpretation would involve us in inextricable
difficulties. We rest, therefore, in the conclusion, that, whatever
connection there may be between death and the existing system of organic
and inorganic nature, no important change took place at the time of man's
first transgression; in other Words, the present system is that which was
originally determined upon in the divine mind, and not the original plan
altered after man's transgression.

_The fourth step in the investigation of this subject leads me to attempt
to show that, in the present system of the world, death, to the inferior
animals, is a benevolent provision, and to man, also, when not aggravated
or converted into a curse by his own sin._

In examining this point, as well as many others in natural theology, where
the existence of evil is concerned, we must assume that the present system
of the world is the best which infinite wisdom and benevolence could
devise. And this we may consistently do. For the prominent design
throughout nature appears to be beneficial to animal natures, and
suffering is only incidental, and happiness, moreover, is superadded to
the functions of animals, where it is unnecessary to the perfect
performance of the function. We may be certain, therefore, that the Author
of such a system can neither be malevolent nor indifferent to the
happiness of animals, but must be benevolent; and, therefore, the system
must be the best possible, since such a Being could constitute no other.

Now, death being an essential feature of such a system, we should expect
to find it, as a whole, a benevolent provision. But, in the case of man,
the Bible represents it as a penal infliction, and such is its general
aspect in the human family. So far as the mere extinction of life is
concerned, it is the same in man as in other animals; but sin arms it with
a deadly sting, by pointing the offender to a world of retribution, as he
sees the menacing dart of the great destroyer aimed at his heart. And,
indeed, through all his days, man's power of anticipation keeps death ever
before him, as the end of all his present enjoyments, and the
commencement, it may be, of unmitigated suffering. But the inferior
animals, being incapable of sin, find none of these aggravations to give
keenness to their final sufferings. No anticipation of death keeps it ever
in view, as a terrific enemy. No guilty conscience points them to a
righteous throne of judgment, where they must be arraigned. But when the
stroke comes, it falls unexpectedly, and the mere physical suffering is
all that gives severity to their dissolution.

In the case of man, too, there is the sundering of ties too strong for any
thing but death to break;--ties which bind him to kindred, friends, and
country; and often this separation constitutes the most painful part of
the closing scene. But in the case of animals, we have no reason to
suppose these attachments, so far as they exist, to be very strong; nay,
in most cases they are certainly very weak. And even did they exist, the
brute would not be conscious that death would remove him from the society
of his beloved companions.

The inferior animals, also, usually die either a violent and sudden death,
inflicted by some carnivorous enemy, or in extreme old age, by mere decay
of the natural powers, without disease. The violent death can usually have
in it little of suffering; and the slow decay still less. But although
some men die violent deaths, how few survive to extreme old age, and sink
at last almost unconsciously into the grave, because the vital energies
are exhausted! Were this the case, the physical terrors of death would be
almost taken away, and we should pass as quietly into eternity as a lamp
goes out when the oil is exhausted. But in general we see a constitution
yet unbroken, struggling with fierce disease, and yielding to its fate
only with terrific agonies; because sin has early implanted the seeds of
disease in the constitution.

Imagine, now, that death should come upon a man in the course of nature;
that is, without disease, and with little suffering, and with no painful
forebodings of conscience. Suppose, moreover, that the dying individual
should feel that the change passing upon him would assuredly introduce him
to a new and spiritual body, undecaying, and adapted to the operations of
the mind; that it would, in fact, be _the building of God, the house not
made with hands, eternal in the heavens_; and that the soul, after death,
would enter into free and full communion with all that is great and
ennobling in the universe; and that joys, inconceivable and eternal, would
henceforth be its portion: O, how different would such a death be from
what we usually witness! Yet, were men all to accept of the offered ransom
from sin and death, and, under the guidance of pure religious principle,
were to pay a strict regard to hygienic laws, such would be, for the most
part, the character of the death they would experience. The excepted cases
would be those of violent and sudden death from accident, or of disease
from unavoidable exposure, and they would be comparatively few. So that,
in fact, an observance of the laws, physical and moral, which God has
ordained, would change almost the entire aspect of death, even in this
fallen world.

These remarks seem necessary in order to obtain a correct idea of the
character of death, when not aggravated by the sins of men. For those
aggravations seem superadded, in the case of men, as penal inflictions for
their sins; and we ought to leave them out of the account, when we are
considering death as a benevolent provision. I do not contend that death,
even in its mildest forms, is no evil; nor that the apostasy of man was
not the cause of its introduction into the world. These points I shall
consider in another place. But I contend that, in the present system of
the world, death, when not aggravated by the sins of men, is to be
regarded as a benevolent provision, bringing with it more happiness than
misery; although, had sin never existed, a system productive of still
greater enjoyment might have been adopted in this world. But as the
arrangements of the world now are, death affords the following evidences
of infinite benevolence and wisdom.

In the _first place_, it is a transfer from a lower to a higher state of
existence.

Let me here be understood distinctly as speaking only of the death of
those accountable beings, who, by the transforming power of grace, have
become prepared for a higher and perfectly holy state of being. For the
death of all others can be looked on only in the light of a terrible penal
infliction. But the righteous, when they die,--and all may, if they will,
become righteous,--have before them the certain prospect of immortal
happiness, such as _eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it
entered the heart of man to conceive_. They enter upon _fulness of joy,
and pleasures forevermore_; and therefore death to them is infinite gain.

Whether the inferior animals will exist again after death is a more
doubtful point. There is certainly nothing in Scripture decisive against
their future existence; for the passage in Psalms which says, that _man
that is in honor and abideth not is like the brutes that perish_, if
understood to mean the annihilation of animals, would prove also the
annihilation of wicked men. And while most men of learning and piety have
suspended their opinion on the existence of the inferior animals after
death, for want of evidence, some have been decided advocates of the
future happy existence of all beings, who exhibit a spark of intelligence.
Not a few distinguished German theologians and philosophers regard the
whole visible creation, both animate and inanimate, as at present in a
confined and depressed state, and struggling for freedom. On this
principle Tholuck explains that most difficult passage in Romans, which
declares _that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth together in pain
until now_. He supposes this "bound or fettered state of nature," both
animate and inanimate, to have a casual connection with sin, and the death
accompanying it among men; and, therefore, when men are freed from sin and
death, _the creation itself, also, shall be delivered from the bondage of
corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God_. The kingdom
of God, according to Tholuck, Martin Luther, and many other distinguished
theologians, will not be transferred to heaven at the end of the world,
but be established on earth, where all these transformations of the
animate and inanimate creation will take place.

This exposition surely carries with it a great deal of naturalness and
probability; and if it be true, death to the inferior animals must surely
be an indication of great benevolence on the part of the Deity, since it
introduces them to a higher state of existence. But if it be rejected,
still the general principle is eminently applicable to the case of man.

In the _second place_, the system of a succession of races of animals on
earth, which death alone would render possible, secures a much greater
collective amount of happiness than a single race of animals, endowed with
earthly immortality. I sustain this position by three arguments. The first
is, that young animals enjoy more, in the same period of time, than those
more advanced in age. This may result, in part, in the present
organization of animals, from the superior health and vigor enjoyed by the
young. But it is due, also, in part, and largely, to the novelty of the
scenes presented in early life. And so far as it results from the latter
cause, it proves that a succession of races would enjoy more than a single
race continued indefinitely, because the successive races would always be
comparatively young. A single continuous race might, indeed, be supposed
always possessed of the unabated vigor and health of youth; but, of
necessity, objects must soon lose the charm of novelty, and, therefore,
produce less of enjoyment. The second argument is, that a succession of
races admits of the contemporaneous existence of a greater number of
species than could coexist were none removed by death. If only one undying
race occupied the globe, it must subsist exclusively on vegetable food.
Whereas much the largest part of the species that now live are carnivorous
or omnivorous. All the enjoyment of these flesh-eating animals is,
therefore, so much clear gain to the stock of happiness, with the
exception of the suffering which death inflicts. Now, but few of the
inferior animals perish by disease. Some die by old age, and these suffer
almost nothing. But the greater part are suddenly destroyed by the violent
assault of the carnivorous races. And as the pangs of death are momentary,
and there are no anticipations of its approach, nor sunderings of the ties
of affection, nor dread of an hereafter, the suffering endured must be an
exceedingly small drawback upon the enjoyment of the whole life. It is
far less than it would be, if animals were left to perish by famine, or by
slow degrees, from deficient nourishment; so that the existence of the
carnivorous races, seeming at first view intended to convert the world
into a vast Golgotha, does in fact add greatly to the amount of enjoyment,
because it so prodigiously multiplies the number of species of animals,
and lessens the sufferings of death. In the third place, death exerts a
salutary moral influence upon man, and, as a consequence, swells the
amount of his happiness. And although this consideration affects only one
species, yet man's position on the scale of being makes his happiness an
object of no small importance.

The final conclusions at which we arrive, then, are, first, that death is
a fixed and universal law of nature, essential to the existence of the
present system of the world; and secondly, that, like all other laws of
nature, it exhibits marks of benevolence, and wise adaptation on the part
of the Author of nature. The question will indeed arise in every
reflecting mind, why a Being of infinite power and wisdom could not have
secured to his creatures the benefits resulting from a system of death,
without the attendant suffering. But this question resolves itself into
the inquiry, why evil exists at all; and although, in my own view, it
exists most probably as a means of greater happiness to the universe, yet
on this point the wisest minds have differed and been baffled, and equally
perplexing is it to every form of religion. Hence it is no objection to
any views we may adopt, that they leave this question where they found it.

_The fifth and last step in our investigation of this subject is to show
how science, experience, and revelation may be reconciled on the subject
of death._

We have seen that geology is not alone in proving death to be a law of
nature, essential to the present system of the world, and, indeed,
indicative of divine wisdom and benevolence. For anatomy and physiology,
as well as experience, teach us the same truths. And natural theology
shows that, if death is a law of organic nature, it must have entered into
the plan of the universe in the divine mind, and was not the result of any
change of organic nature subsequent to the fall of man. Can these views be
reconciled with the declarations of Scripture, which certainly represent
death among the human family, if not among the lower animals, to be the
consequence of sin?

There are three suppositions by which all apparent discrepancy between
science and revelation, on this subject, may be removed. I shall present
them, with the arguments in their favor, leaving to others to decide which
is most reasonable. For they are independent of one another, though not
inconsistent; and, therefore, even though different persons should prefer
different theories, they need not be regarded as in opposition to one
another.

The first theory proceeds on the supposition that death is a universal law
of organic nature, from which man was exempted so long as he obeyed the
law of God. But I will present it in the language of its distinguished
author. "In the state of pristine purity," says Dr. J. Pye Smith, "the
bodily constitution of man was exempted from the law of progress towards
dissolution, which belonged to the inferior animals. It must have been
maintained in that distinguished peculiarity by means to us unknown; and
it would seem probable that, had not man fallen by his transgression, he,
and each of his posterity, would, after faithfully sustaining an
individual probation, have passed through a change without dying, and have
been exalted to a more perfect state of existence."--_Scrip. and Geol._
4th ed. p. 208.

According to this theory of Dr. Smith, man saw all other organic beings
around him subject to decay and death, while he, as a special favor,
remained unaffected by the general law. The penalty of disobedience was,
that he would forfeit this enviable distinction, and be subjected to death
more revolting than the brutes. The reward of obedience was a continued
immunity from evil, and a final translation, without suffering, to a more
exalted condition. And certainly the nature of the case furnishes a strong
presumptive argument to show that man did thus stand exempted from the
decay and death which reigned all around him. If not, what weight or
meaning would there be in the penalty? If he had not seen death in other
animals, how could he have any idea of the nature of the threatening? And
we may be sure that God never promulgates a penalty without affording his
subjects the means of comprehending it.

I have already intimated that I could hardly see why there exists in all
organic natures a tendency to decay and death, except in the will of the
Creator. May not that tendency result, like the varieties among men, from
some slightly modifying cause implanted by the Deity in the nature of the
animal or plant? And if so, might not an opposite tendency be imparted to
one or more species, so that the decay and death of the one, and the
continued existence of the other, might be equally well explained on
physiological principles? If this suggestion be admitted, it would not be
necessary to resort to any supernatural or miraculous agency to show how
sinless man in paradise might have stood unaffected by decay, the common
lot of all other races. It must be confessed, however, that it is not as
easy to see how, by any natural law, he could have been proof against
mechanical violence and chemical agencies; there we must admit miraculous
protection, or a self-restoring power more wonderful than that possessed
by the polypi.

These views receive strong confirmation from the history of the tree of
life, that grew in the garden of Eden. The very name implies that it was
intended to give or preserve life. That it had in it a power to preserve
life is evident from the sentence pronounced on man. _And the Lord God
saith, Behold, the man hath become as one of us, to know good and evil;
and now, lest he should put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of
life, and live forever, therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the
garden of Eden._ Now, it appears to me to be in perfect harmony with the
principles of physiology to suppose that there might be a virtue in the
tree of life--either in its fruit or some other part--to arrest that
tendency to decay and dissolution which we now find in all animal bodies.
It does seem that it would require only some slight modification of the
present functions of the human frame to keep the wheels of life in motion
indefinitely. When in Eden, man had access to this sure defence against
disease. But after he had sinned, he must forfeit this privilege, and,
like the plants and inferior animals, submit to the universal law of
dissolution. Surely, of all the expositions that have been given of the
meaning of this passage, this is the most rational, and it does throw an
air of great plausibility over Dr. Smith's views.

It will occur to every reflecting mind that we have in Scripture a few
interesting examples of that change, without dying, from the present to a
higher state of being, which the theory of Dr. Smith supposes would have
been the happy lot of all mankind had they not sinned. _By faith Enoch was
translated, that he should not see death. He walked with God, and he was
not; for God took him._ Gladly would philosophys here interpose a
thousand questions as to the manner in which this wonderful change took
place; but the Scriptures are silent. It was enough for the heart of piety
that God was the author of the change. And so, in the case of Elijah, we
have the sublimely simple description only--_And it came to pass, as they
still went on and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire,
and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a
whirlwind into heaven._ Except the transfiguration of Christ, which
appears to have been of an analogous character, these are all the actual
examples of translation on record. But the apostle declares that, in the
closing scene of this world's history, this same change shall pass upon
multitudes. _Behold, I show you a mystery. We shall not all sleep; but we
shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last
trump; for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised
incorruptible, and we shall be changed._ Abundant evidence is, therefore,
before us, that the great change which death now causes us to pass through
with fear and dread, might as easily have been, for the whole human
family, a transition delightful in anticipation and joyful in experience.

The second theory which will reconcile science and revelation on the
subject of death, is one long since illustrated by Jeremy Taylor. And
since he could have had no reference to geology in proposing it, because
geology did not exist in his day, we may be sure, either that he learnt it
from the Bible, or that other branches of knowledge teach the existence of
death as a general law of nature, as well as geology.

"That death, therefore," says Taylor, "which God threatened to Adam, and
which passed upon his posterity, is not the going out of this world, but
the manner of going. If he had staid in innocence, he should have gone
placidly and fairly, without vexatious and afflictive circumstances; he
should not have died by sickness, defect, misfortune, or unwillingness.
But when he fell, then he began to die; the same day, (God said,) and that
must needs be true; and, therefore, it must mean upon that very day he
fell into an evil and dangerous condition, a state of change and
affliction; then death began; that is, man began to die by a natural
diminution, and aptness to disease and misery. Change or separation of
soul and body is but accidental to death; death may be with or without
either; but the formality, the curse, and the sting,--that is, misery,
sorrow, fear, diminution, defect, anguish, dishonor, and whatsoever is
miserable and afflictive in nature,--that is death. Death is not an
action, but a whole state and condition; and this was first brought in
upon us by the offence of one man."

In more recent times, the essential features of these views of Taylor have
been adopted by the ablest commentators and theologians, and sustained by
an appeal to Scripture.[9] The position which they take is, that the death
threatened as the penalty of disobedience has a more extended meaning than
physical death. It is a generic term, including all penal evils; so that
when death is spoken of as the penalty of sin, we may substitute the word
_curse_, _wrath_, _destruction_, and the like. Thus, in Gen. ii. 17, we
might read, _In the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely be cursed_:
and in Rom. v. 12, _By one man sin entered into the world, and the curse
by sin_, &c. In his commentary on this passage, Professor Stuart says, "I
see no _philological_ escape from the conclusion that death, in the sense
of _penalty for sin in its full measure_, must be regarded as the meaning
of the writer here." The same may be said of many other passages of
Scripture, where the term _death_ is used.

According to this exposition, the death threatened as the penalty of
transgression embraces all the evils we suffer in this life and in
eternity; among which the dissolution of the body is not one of the worst.
Indeed, some writers will not admit that this was included at all in the
penalty. Such, of course, find no difficulty in the geological statement
that literal death preceded man's existence. But from the declaration in 1
Cor. xv. 22, _As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made
alive_, it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion, that the death of the
body was brought in upon the race by Adam's transgression. According to
Taylor's view, however, we might reasonably suppose that what constituted
the death threatened to Adam was not the going out of the world, but the
manner of going, and that, had he continued holy, a change of worlds might
have taken place, but it would not have been death.

Now, there are some facts, both in experience and revelation, that give to
these views an air of probability. One is, the mild character of death in
many cases, when attended by only a few of the circumstances above
enumerated, as constituting its essence. I believe that experience
sustains the conclusion already drawn as to the inferior animals, when not
aggravated by human cruelty. Pain is about the only circumstance that
gives it the character of severity; and this is usually short, and not
anticipated. Nor can it be doubted, as a general fact, that, as we descend
along the scale of animals, we find the sensibility to suffering diminish.
But in the human family we find examples still more to the point. In all
those cases in which there is little or no disease, and a man in
venerable old age feels the powers of life gradually give way, and the
functions are feebly performed, until the heart at length ceases to beat,
and the lungs to heave, death is merely the quiet and unconscious
termination of the scene, so far as the physical nature is concerned. The
brain partakes of the gradual decay, and thus the man is scarcely
conscious of the failure of his powers, because his sensibilities are so
blunted; and therefore, apart from sin, his mind feels little of the
anguish of dissolution, and he quietly resigns himself into the arms of
death,--

                  "As sweetly as a child,
  Whom neither thought disturbs, nor care encumbers,
  Tired with long play, at close of summer's day,
  Lies down and slumbers."

If now, in addition to this physical preparation for his departure, the
man possesses a deep consciousness of forgiven sin, and a firm hope of
future and eternal joy, this change, which we call death, becomes only a
joyful translation from earth to heaven; and though the man passes from
our view,--

                              "He sets,
  As sets the morning star, which goes not down
  Behind the darkened west, nor hides obscured
  Among the tempests of the sky, but melts away
  Into the light of heaven."

Nay, when such faith and hope form an anchor to the soul, it is not
necessary that the physical preparation, which I have described, should
exist. The poor body may be torn by fierce disease, nay, by the infernal
cruelties of martyrdom, and yet faith can rise--often has risen--over the
pains of nature, in joyful triumph; and in the midst of the tempest, with
her anchor fastened to the eternal Rock, she can exclaim, _O death, where
is thy sting! O grave, where is thy victory! Thanks be to God, which
giveth me the victory through my Lord Jesus Christ._ Surely such a
dissolution as this cannot mean the death mentioned in the primeval curse.

Look now at the contrast. Behold a man writhing in the fangs of
unrelenting disease, and feeling at the same time the scorpion sting of a
guilty conscience. His present suffering is terrible, but that in prospect
is more so; yet he cannot bribe the king of terrors to delay the fatal
stroke.

                                    "The foe,
  Like a stanch murderer, steady to his purpose,
  Urges the soul through every nook and lane of life."

It were enough for an unruffled mind to bear the bodily anguish of that
dying hour. But the unpardoned sins of a whole life, and the awful
retributions of a whole eternity, come crowding into that point of time;
and no human fortitude can stand under the crushing load. This, this is
emphatically death; the genuine fruit of sin, and therefore in
correspondence with the original threatening.

If we turn now to the Scriptures, we shall find some passages in striking
agreement with the opinion that the death threatened to man was not the
mere dissolution of the body and soul; not a mere going out of the world,
but the manner of going.

This is, indeed, made exceedingly probable by the facts already stated
respecting the translation of Enoch and Elijah, and those alive at the
coming of Christ. For the sacred writers do not call this death, although
it be a removal out of the world, and a transformation of the natural into
the spiritual body. Hence, upon the material part of men, the same effects
were produced as result from ordinary death, and the subsequent
resurrection.

If we recur to the original threatening of death as the consequence of
sin, we shall find a peculiarity in the form of expression, which our
English translators have rendered by the phrase _thou shalt surely die_;
but literally it should be, _dying thou shalt die_.

This mode of expression is indeed very common in the Hebrew language; but
it certainly was meant to indicate an intensity in the meaning, as in the
phrase _blessing I will bless thee, and multiplying I will multiply thee_;
that is, I will greatly multiply thee. Must it not imply, in the case
under consideration, at least that the death which would be the
consequence of transgression, would possess an aggravated character? May
it not imply as much as Taylor's theory supposes? Might it not be intended
to teach Adam that, when he died, his death should not be simply the
dissolution of the animal fabric, and the loss of animal life, as he
witnessed it in the inferior creatures around him; but a change far more
agonizing, in which the mental suffering should so much outweigh the
corporeal as to constitute, in fact, its essence? I do not assert that
this passage has such an extended meaning, but I suggest it. And I confess
that I do not see why its peculiarity of form is understood in our common
translation to imply certainty rather than intensity.

There is another part of the threatening that deserves consideration. It
says, that man should not only die, but die the very day of the offence.
Now, if by death we understood merely a removal out of the world, or a
separation of soul and body, the threatening was not executed after the
forbidden fruit was tasted. But if it meant also, and chiefly, a state of
sorrow, pain, and suffering, a liability to disease and fatal accident,
the goadings of a guilty conscience, and the consequent fear of punishment
beyond the grave, then death began on the very day when man sinned, and
the dissolution of the soul and body was but the closing scene of the
tragedy.

The beautiful passage in the First Epistle to the Corinthians, already
quoted, where the Christian, in view of death, exultingly exclaims, _O
death, where is thy sting! O grave, where is thy victory!_ will doubtless
occur to all who hear me, in this connection. Here the sting of death is
expressly declared to be sin, and that the pardoned Christian obtains the
victory over it. To him all that renders this king of terrors formidable
is gone. Its physical sufferings may indeed be left, but these are hardly
worth naming, when that which constitutes the sting of this great
enemy--unpardoned guilt--is taken away. Little more than his harmless
shadow is left. Worlds, indeed, are to be exchanged, and so they must have
been if Adam had never been driven from paradise. The eyes, too, must
close on beloved friends; but how soon to open them upon the bright
glories of heaven! In short, the strong impression of this passage upon
the mind is, that the essential thing in death is unpardoned sin; and
therefore the death threatened to Adam may have been only the terrible
aggravations of a departure out of this world, which have followed in the
train of transgression.

Another striking passage, bearing upon the same point, is the declaration
of Paul, that _Jesus Christ hath abolished death, and brought life and
immortality to light through the gospel_.

The apostle does not surely mean that Christians are freed from what is
commonly called death, since universal experience shows that animal life
in them is as sure to be extinguished, and the soul to be separated from
the body, as in others. But so different is death now, since Christ has
brought to light a future and an immortal life, and by the sacrifice of
himself shown how the heart may be reconciled to God, and sin forgiven,
and faith inspired, that, in fact, while the shadow of death still
occupies the passage to eternity, its substance is gone.

That death, which sin introduced, Christ has abolished, because, by his
sacrifice and his grace, he has conquered sin.

Upon the whole, though we may not be convinced that either of the theories
that have been explained is directly taught in the Scriptures, or can be
shown to be infallibly true, yet they are sustained by probable evidence
enough to remove the apprehension that there is any real discrepancy
between geology and revelation on the subject of death. Between these
theories there is but a slight difference. They are in fact but
modifications of the same general principles; and I say it would be more
philosophical to admit the truth of either of them, than a disagreement
between science and Scripture, since the truth of both geology and
revelation is sustained by such a mass of independent evidence.

An objection, however, may be stated against both of these theories, on
the ground that they seem to imply that death would have existed in the
world, irrespective of the sin of man, and therefore they lessen our sense
of the evil of sin.

It may be doubted, I think, whether these theories do necessarily imply
that there was no connection between the sin of man and the introduction
of death into the world. But, admitting that they do, is it certain that
inadequate views of sin are the result? For poetic effect, we admire the
sublime sentimentalism of Milton:--

  "Earth felt the wound; and Nature, from her seat,
  Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe
  That all was lost."

But, after all, the deepest impression we get of the evil of sin is
derived from contemplating its effects upon man, and especially the
immortal mind. Witness its lofty powers bowed down in ignominious
servitude to base corporeal appetites and furious and debasing passions.
See how the understanding is darkened, the will perverted, and the heart
alienated from all that is holy. See reason and conscience dethroned, and
selfishness reigning in gloomy and undisputed tyranny over the immortal
mind, while appetite and passion have become its obsequious panders. See
how the affections turn away with loathing from God, and what a wall of
separation has sprung up between man and his Maker; how deeply and
universally he has revolted from his rightful sovereign, and has chosen
other gods to rule over him. Consider, too, what havoc has been made in
the body, that curious and wonderful workmanship of the Almighty; how the
unbridled appetites have sown the seeds of disease therein, and how pain,
languor, and decay assail the constitution as soon as we begin to live,
and cease not their attacks till they triumph over the citadel of life.
Consult the history of the world, and what a lazar-house and a Golgotha
has it been! What land has not been drenched in human blood, poured out in
ferocious war! What oceans of tears has the thirsty soil drank up! What
breeze has ever blown over the land which has not been loaded with sighs,
and groans, and the story of wrong and oppression, of treachery and
murder, of suicide and assassination, of blasted hopes and despairing
hearts! These, therefore, are the genuine fruits of sin. This, this is
death. And, need I add that these are but the precursors of the second
death?

The third theory respecting death takes a more comprehensive view of the
subject, and traces its origin to the divine plan of the creation.

In creating this world, God did not act without a plan previously
determined upon in all its details. Of course, man's character and
condition formed prominent items in that plan. His apostasy, too, however
some would hesitate to regard it as predetermined, all will allow to have
been foreknown. Now, I maintain that God, in the beginning, adapted every
other being and event in the world to man's character and condition, so
that there should be entire harmony in its system. And since, either in
the divine appointment, or in the nature of things, there is an
inseparable connection between sin and death, the latter must constitute a
feature of the system of the world, because a free agent would introduce
the former. Death would ultimately exist in the world, and, therefore, all
creatures placed in such a world must be made mortal, at whatever period
created. For mortal and immortal natures could not exist in the same
natural constitution, nor could a condition adapted to undying creatures
be changed into a state of decay and death without an entirely new
creation. Death, therefore, entered into the original plan of the world in
the divine mind, and was endured by the animals and plants that lived
anterior to man. Yet, as the constitution of the world is, doubtless, very
different from what it would have been if sin had not existed in it, and
as man alone was capable of sin, it is proper to regard man's
transgression as the occasion of all the suffering and death that existed
on the globe since its creation.

It will probably be objected to this theory, that it is unjust to make
animals suffer for man's apostasy, especially before it took place.

I do not see why such suffering is any more unjust before than after man's
transgression; and we know that they do now suffer in consequence of his
sin. But this suffering is not to be regarded in the light of punishment;
and if it can only be proved that benevolence predominates in the
condition of animals, notwithstanding their sufferings, divine justice and
benevolence are vindicated; and can there be any doubt that such is the
fact? Death is not necessarily an evil to any animals. It may be a great
blessing, by removing them to a higher state of existence. In the case of
the inferior animals, it is but a small drawback upon the pleasure of
life, even though they do not exist hereafter. We have endeavored to show
that even the existence of carnivorous races is a benevolent provision.
That animals are placed in an inferior condition, in consequence of man's
apostasy, is no more cause of complaint than that man is made a little
lower than the angels.

Another objection to these views is, that it makes the effect precede the
cause; for it-represents the pre-Adamic animals as dying in consequence of
man's transgression.

I do not maintain that the death of animals, before or after Adam, was the
direct and natural consequence of his transgression. Nay, I am endeavoring
to show directly the contrary. But, then, the certainty of man's apostasy
might have been the grand reason in the divine mind for giving to the
world its present constitution, and subjecting animals to death. Not that
God altered his plan upon a prospective knowledge that man would sin; but
he made this plan originally, that is from eternity, with that event in
view, and he made it different from what it would have been, if such an
event had not been certain. If this be true, then was there a connection
between man's sin and the death that reigned before his existence; though,
in strict accuracy of speech, one can hardly be called the cause of the
other. And yet it was, as I maintain, occasioned by man's sin, and shows
the wide-spread influence of that occurrence, even more strikingly than
the ordinary theory of death.

A third objection to this theory is, that it represents God as putting man
in a place of punishment before he had sinned; or, at least, in a state
where death was the universal law, and where he must die, though he should
keep the law of God.

There are three suppositions, either of which will meet this difficulty.

We may suppose, with Jeremy Taylor, that the death threatened to Adam
consisted, not in going out of the world, but in the manner of going. If
he had not sinned, the exchange of worlds would have been without fear or
suffering, and an object of desire rather than aversion. Christ has not
secured to the believer the privilege of an earthly immortality, but has
taken away from a removal out of the world all that constitutes death.

Or we may suppose, with Dr. J. Pye Smith, that, while man should continue
to keep the divine law, he would be secured from that tendency to decay
and dissolution, which was the common lot of all other creatures, until
the time should come for his removal, without suffering or dread, to a
higher state of existence. And that a means of immunity from death existed
in the garden of Eden we learn from the Scriptures. For there stood the
tree of life, whose fruit had the power to make man live forever, and,
therefore, he must be banished from the spot where it grew.

Or, finally, we may suppose that God fitted up for man some balmy spot,
where neither decay nor death could enter, and where every thing was
adapted for a being of perfect holiness and happiness. His privilege was
to dwell there, so long as he could preserve his innocence, but no longer.
And surely this supposition seems to accord with the description of the
garden of Eden, man's first dwelling-place. There every thing seems to
have been adapted to his happiness; but sin drove him out among the thorns
and thistles, and a cherubim and a flaming sword forbade his return to
the tree of life.

Either of these suppositions will meet the difficulty suggested by the
objection; or they may all be combined consistently. Let us now look at
some of the advantages of the third theory above advanced.

In the first place, it satisfactorily harmonizes revelation with geology,
physiology, and experience, on the subject of death. It agrees with
physiology and experience in representing death to be a law of organic
being on the globe. Yet it accords with revelation, in showing how this
law may be a result of man's apostasy; and with geology, also, in showing
how death might have reigned over animals and plants before man's
existence. To remove so many apparent discrepancies is surely a
presumption in favor of any theory.

In the second place, the fundamental principle of this theory is also a
fundamental principle of natural and revealed theology, viz., that all
events in this world entered originally into the plan or purpose of the
Deity. To suppose that God made the world without a plan previously
determined upon, is to make him less wise than a human architect, who
would be charged with great folly to attempt building even a house without
a plan. And to suppose that plan not to extend to every event, is to rob
God of his infinite attributes.

In the third place, this theory falls in with the common interpretation of
Scripture, which refers the whole system of suffering, decay, and death in
this world to man's apostasy. And although the general reception of any
exegesis of Scripture does not prove it to be correct, it is certainly
gratifying when a thorough examination proves the obvious sense of a
passage to be the true one. For to disturb the popular interpretation is,
with many, equivalent to a denial of Scripture.

In the fourth place, this theory shows us the infinite skill and
benevolence of Jehovah in educing good from evil.

The free agency of man was an object in the highest degree desirable. Yet
such a character made him liable to fall; and God knew that he would fall.
To human sagacity that act would seem to seal up his fate forever. But
infinite wisdom saw that the case was not hopeless. It placed him in a
state of temporal suffering and temporal death, that he might still have a
chance of escaping eternal suffering and eternal death. The discipline of
such a world was eminently adapted to restore his lost purity, and death
was probably the only means by which a fallen being could pass to a higher
state of existence. That discipline, indeed, if rightly improved, would
probably fit him for a higher degree of holiness and happiness than if he
had never sinned; so as to make true the paradoxical sentiment of the
poet,--

  "Death gives us more than was in Eden lost."

Misimproved, this discipline would result in an infinite loss, far greater
than if man never passed through it. But this is all the fault of man;
while all the benefit of a state of probation is the result of God's
infinite wisdom and benevolence.

In the fifth place, this theory relieves us from the absurdity of
supposing that God was compelled to alter the plan of creation after man's
apostasy.

The common theory does convey an idea not much different from this. It
makes the impression that God was disappointed when man sinned, and being
thereby thwarted in his original purpose, he did the best he could by
changing his plan, just as men do when some unexpected occurrence
interferes with their short-sighted contrivances. Now, such an
anthropomorphic view of God is inexcusable in the nineteenth century. It
was necessary to use such representations in the early ages of the world,
when pure spiritual ideas were unknown; and hence the Bible describes God
as repenting and grieved that he had made man. But with the light of the
New Testament and of modern science, we ought to be able to enucleate the
true spiritual idea from such descriptions. The theory under consideration
does not reduce God to any after-thought expedients, but makes provision
for every occurrence in his original plan; and, of course, shows that
every event takes place as he would have it, when viewed in its relations
to the great system of the universe.

In the sixth place, this theory sheds some light upon the important
question, why God permitted the introduction of death into the world.

It is difficult for some persons to conceive why God, when he foresaw
Adam's apostasy, did not change his plan of creation, and exclude so
terrible an evil as death. But according to this theory, he permitted it,
because it was a necessary part of a great system of restoration, by which
the human race might, if not recreant to their true interests, be restored
to more than their primeval blessedness. It was not introduced as a mere
punishment, but as a necessary means of raising a fallen being into a
higher state of life and blessedness; or, if he perversely spurned the
offered boon, of sinking him down to the deeper wretchedness which is the
just consequence of unrepented sin, without even the sympathy of any part
of the created universe.

Finally. This subject throws some light upon that strange mixture of good
and evil, which exists in the present world. We have seen, indeed, that
benevolence decidedly predominates in all the arrangements of nature; and
we are called upon continually to admire the adaptation of external nature
to the human constitution. A large portion of our sufferings here may
also be imputed to our own sins, or the sins of others; and these we
cannot charge upon God. But, after all, it seems difficult to conceive how
even a sinless man could escape a large amount of suffering here; enough,
indeed, to make him often sigh for deliverance and for a better state. How
many sources of sufferings there are in unhealthy climates, mechanical
violence, and chemical agents; in a sterile soil, in the excessive heats
of the tropical regions, and extreme cold of high latitudes; in the
encroachments and ferocity of the inferior animals; in poisons, mineral,
vegetable, and animal; in food unfitted to the digestive and assimilating
organs; in the damps and miasms of night; and in the frequent necessity
for over-exertion of body and mind! And then, how many hinderances to the
exercise of the mental powers, in all the causes that have been mentioned!
and how does the soul feel that she is imprisoned in flesh and blood, and
her energies cramped, and her vision clouded, by a gross corporeal medium!
And thus it is, to a great extent, with all nature, especially animal
nature; and I cannot but believe, as already intimated, that Paul had
these very things in mind when he said, _The whole creation groaneth and
travaileth together in pain until now, and waiteth for the manifestation
of the sons of God_; that is, for emancipation from its present depressed
and fettered condition. In short, while there is so much in this world to
call forth our admiration and gratitude to God, there is enough to make us
feel, also, that it is a fallen condition. It is not such a world as
infinite benevolence would provide for perfectly holy beings, whom he
desired to make perfectly happy, but rather such a world as is adapted for
a condition of trial and preparation for a higher state, when both mind
and body would be delivered from the fetters that now cramp their
exercise.

Now, the theory which I advocate asserts that this peculiar condition of
the world resulted from the divine determination, upon a prospective view
of man's transgression. It may, therefore, be properly regarded as
occasioned by man's transgression, but not in the common meaning attached
to that phrase, which is, that, before man's apostasy, the constitution of
the world was different from what it now is, and death did not exist. This
theory supposes God to have devised the present peculiar mixed condition
of the world, as to good and evil, in eternity, in order to give man an
opportunity to rescue himself from the penalty and misery of sin; and in
order to introduce those who should do this into a higher state of
existence. The plan, therefore, is founded in infinite wisdom and
benevolence, while it brings out man's guilt, and the evil of sin, in
appalling distinctness and magnitude.

But, after all, how little idea would a man have of the entire plot of a
play, who had heard only a part of the first act! How little could he
judge of the bearing of the first scene upon the final development! Yet we
are now only in the first act of the great drama of human existence. Death
shows us that we shall ere long be introduced into a second act, and
affords a presumption that other acts--it may be in an endless
series--will succeed, before the whole plot shall have passed before us;
and not till then can we be certain what are all the objects to be
accomplished by the introduction of sin and death into our world. And if
thus early we can catch glimpses of great benefit to result from these
evils, what full conviction, that infinite benevolence has planned and
consummated the whole, will be forced upon the mind, when the vast
panorama of God's dispensations shall lie spread out in the memory! For
that time shall Faith wait, in confident hope that all her doubts and
darkness shall be converted into noonday brightness.




LECTURE IV.

THE NOACHIAN DELUGE COMPARED WITH THE GEOLOGICAL DELUGES.


The history of opinions respecting the deluge of Noah is one of the most
curious and instructive in the annals of man. In this field, Christians
have often broken lances with infidels, and also with one another. The
unbeliever has confidently maintained that the Bible history of the deluge
is at war with the facts and reasonings of science. Equally confident has
been the believer that nature bears strong testimony to its occurrence.
Some Christians, however, have asserted, with the infidel, that no trace
remains on the face of nature of such an event. And as this is a subject
which men are apt to suppose themselves masters of, when they have only
skimmed the surface, the contest between these different parties has been
severe and protracted. Almost every geological change which the earth has
undergone, from its centre to its circumference, has, at one time or
another, been ascribed to this deluge. And so plain has this seemed to
those who had only a partial view of the facts, that those who doubted it
were often denounced as enemies of revelation. But most of these opinions
and this dogmatism are now abandoned, because both Nature and Scripture
are better understood. And among well-informed geologists, at least, the
opinion is almost universal, that there are no facts in their science
which can be clearly referred to the Noachian deluge; that is, no traces
in nature of that event; and on the other hand, that there is nothing in
the Mosaic account of the deluge which would necessarily lead is to expect
permanent marks of such a catastrophe within or upon the earth.

If such be the case, you will doubtless inquire, what connection there is
between geology and the revealed history of the deluge, and why the
subject should be introduced into this series of lectures. I reply, that
so recently have correct views been entertained on this subject, and so
little understood are they; that they need to be defined and explained.
And if the distribution of animals and plants on the globe come within the
province of geology, then this science has a very important point of
connection with the history of the deluge, as will appear in the sequel.
And finally, the history of opinions on this subject is full of
instruction to those who undertake to reason on the connection between
science and religion. Obviously, then, my first object should be to give a
brief history of the views that have been entertained respecting the
deluge of Noah, so far as they have been supposed to have any connection
with geology.

It is well known, that in the written and unwritten traditions of almost
every nation and tribe under heaven, the story of a general deluge has
been prominent; and probably, in all these cases, some attempt has been
made to explain the manner in which the waters were brought over the land.
But most of these reasonings, especially in ancient times, are too absurd
to deserve even to be recited. Indeed, it is not till the beginning of the
sixteenth century, that we find any discussions on the subject worthy of
notice. At that time, some excavations at Verona, in Italy, brought to
light many fossil shells, and awakened a question as to their origin. Some
maintained that they were only _simulacra_, or resemblances to animals,
but never had a real existence. They were supposed to have been produced
by a certain "_materia pinguis_," or "fatty matter," existing in the
earth. Others maintained that they were deposited by the deluge of Noah.
Such, indeed, was the general opinion; but Fracastoro and a few others
maintained that they were once real animals, and could not have been
brought into their present condition by the last deluge. For more than
three hundred years have these questions been more or less discussed; and
though decided many years ago by all geologists, not a few intelligent men
still maintain, that petrified shells are mere abortive resemblances of
real beings, or that they were deposited by the deluge.

The advocates of the diluvial origin of petrifactions soon found
themselves hard pressed with the question, how these relics could be
scattered through strata many thousand feet thick, by one transient flood.
They, therefore, came to the conclusion, in the words of Woodward, a
distinguished cosmogonist of the eighteenth century, that the "whole
terrestrial globe was taken to pieces and dissolved at the flood, and the
strata settled down from this promiscuous mass, as any earthy sediment
from a fluid." During that century, many works appeared upon cosmogony,
defending similar views, by such men as Burnet, Scheuchzer, and Catcott.
Some of these works exhibited no little ability, mixed, however, with
hypotheses so extravagant that they have ever since been the butt of
ridicule. The very title of Burnet's work cannot but provoke a smile. It
is called "The Sacred Theory of the Earth, containing an Account of the
Original of the Earth, and of all the general Changes it bath already
undergone, or is to undergo, till the Consummation of all Things." He
maintained that the primitive earth was only "an orbicular crust, smooth,
regular, and uniform, without mountains and without a sea." This crust
rested on the surface of a watery abyss, and, being heated by the sun,
became <DW50>; and in consequence of the rarefaction of the included
vapors, it burst asunder, and fell down into the waters, and so was
comminuted and dissolved, while the inhabitants perished. Catcott's work
was confined exclusively to the deluge, and exhibited a good deal of
ability. He endeavored to show, that this dissolution of the earth by the
deluge was taught in the Scriptures, and his reasoning on that point is a
fine example of the state of biblical interpretation in his day. "As there
are other texts," says he, "which mention the dissolution of the earth, it
may be proper to cite them. Ps. xlvi. 2. _God is our refuge; therefore
will we not fear though the earth be removed_, [be changed, be quite
altered, as it was at the deluge.] _God uttered his voice, the earth
melted_, [flowed, dissolved to atoms.] Again, Job xxviii. 9. _He sent his
hand_ [the expansion, his instrument, or the agent by which he worked]
_against the rock, he overturned the mountains by the roots, he caused the
rivers to burst forth from between the rocks_, [or broke open the
fountains of the abyss.] _His eye_ [symbolically placed for light] _saw_
[passed through, or between] _every minute thing_, [every-atom, and so
dissolved the whole.] _He_ [at last] _bound up the waters from weeping_,
[i. e. from pressing through the shell of the earth, as tears make their
way through the orb of the eye; or, as it is related, (Gen. viii. 2,) _He
stopped the fountains of the abyss and the windows of heaven_,] _and
brought out the light from its hiding-place_, [i. e., from the inward
parts of the earth, from between every atom where it lay hid, and kept
each atom separate from the other, and so the whole in a state of
dissolution; his bringing out those parts of the light which caused the
dissolution would of course permit the agents to act in their usual way,
and so reform the earth."]--_Treatise on the Deluge_, p. 43, (London,
1761.)

We can hardly believe at the present day, that a logical and scientific
mind, like that of Catcott, could satisfy itself, by such a dreamy
exegesis, that the Scriptures teach the earth's dissolution at the deluge;
especially when they so distinctly describe the waters of the deluge, as
first rising over the land, and then sinking back to their original
position. Still more strange is it how Burnet could have thought it
consistent with Scripture to suppose the earth, before the flood, "to have
been covered with an orbicular crust, smooth, regular, and uniform,
without mountains and without a sea," when the Bible so distinctly states,
as the work of the third day, that _the waters under the heavens were
gathered together unto one place, and the dry land appeared_; and that
_God called the dry land earth, and the gathering together of the waters
he called seas_; and further, that, by the deluge, _all the high hills
were covered_. Yet these men doubtless supposed that, by the views which
they advocated, they were defending the Holy Scriptures. Nay, their views
were long regarded as exclusively the orthodox views, and opposition to
them was considered, for one or two centuries, as virtual opposition to
the Bible. Truly, this, in biblical interpretation, was straining at a
gnat and swallowing a camel.

It is quite convenient to explain such anomalies in human belief, by
referring them to the spirit of the age, or to the want of the light of
modern science. But in the present case, we cannot thus easily dispose of
the difficulty. For in our own day, we have seen these same absurdities of
opinion maintained by a really scientific man, selected to write one of
the Bridgewater Treatises, as one of the most learned men in Great
Britain. I refer to Rev. William Kirby, evidently a thorough entomologist
and a sincere Christian. But he adopts the opinion, not only that there
exists a subterranean abyss of waters, but a subterranean metropolis of
animals, where the huge leviathians, the gigantic saurians, dug out of the
rocks by the geologist, still survive; and this he endeavors to prove from
the Bible. For this purpose he quotes the passage in Psalms, _though thou
hast sore broken us in the place of dragons, and covered us with the
shadow of death_. His exposition of this text is much in the style of that
already given from Catcott. Following that writer and Hutchinson, he
endeavors to show, by a still more fanciful interpretation, that the
phrase "windows of heaven," in Genesis, means cracks and volcanic rents in
the earth, through which air and water rushed inwardly and outwardly with
such violence as to tear the crust to pieces. This was the effect of the
increasing waters of the deluge; the bringing together of these comminuted
particles, so as to form the present strata, was the work of the subsiding
waters.

These views will seem very strange to those not familiar with the history
of geology. But we shall find their origin, if a few facts be stated
respecting what has been called the physico-theological school of writers,
that originated with one Hutchinson, in the beginning of the eighteenth
century. He was a disciple of the distinguished cosmogonist Woodward. But
he attacked the views of his master, as well as those of Sir Isaac Newton
on gravitation, in a work which he published in twelve octavo volumes,
entitled "_Moses's Principia_." He there maintains that the Scriptures,
when rightly understood, contain a complete system of natural philosophy.

This dogma, advocated by Hutchinson with the most intolerant spirit,
constitutes the leading peculiarity of the physico-theological school, and
has been very widely adopted, and has exerted a most pernicious influence
both upon religion and upon science. It is painful, therefore, to find so
learned and excellent a man as Mr. Kirby so deeply imbued with it, so
long after its absurdity has been shown again and again. It is devoutly to
be wished that the cabalistic dreams of Hutchinsonianism are not to be
extensively revived in our day. And, indeed, such is the advanced state of
hermeneutical knowledge, that we have little reason to fear it.
Nevertheless, its leaven is yet by no means thoroughly purged out from the
literary community.

It was one of the settled principles of the physico-theological school,
that, since the creation, the earth has undergone no important change
beneath the surface, except at the deluge, because it was supposed that
the Bible mentions no other event that could produce any important change.
Hence all marks of changes in the rocks since their original creation must
be referred to the deluge. And especially when it was found that most of
the petrifactions in the rocks were of marine origin, not only were they
supposed to be the result of the deluge, but a most conclusive proof of
that event. And this opinion is even yet very widely received by the
Christian world. The argument in its favor, when stated in a popular
manner to those not familiar with geology, is indeed quite imposing. For
if the land, almost every where, even to the tops of some of its highest
mountains, abounds in sea shells, this is just what we should expect, if
the sea flowed over those mountains at the deluge. But the moment we come
to examine the details respecting marine petrifactions, we see that
nothing can be more absurd than to suppose them the result of a transient
deluge. Yet this view is maintained in nearly all the popular commentaries
of the present day upon Genesis, and in many respectable periodicals. It
is taught, therefore, in the Sabbath school and in the family; and the
child, as he grows up, is shocked to find the geologist assailing it; and
when he finds it false, he is in danger of becoming jealous of the other
evidences of Christianity which he has been taught.

Another branch of the modern physico-theological school, embracing men who
have read too much on the subject of geology to be able to believe in the
dissolution of the globe by the deluge, have adopted a more plausible
hypothesis. They suppose that between the creation and the deluge, or in
sixteen hundred and fifty-six years, according to the received chronology,
all the present fossiliferous rocks of our continents, more than six miles
in thickness, were deposited at the bottom of the ocean. By that event,
they were raised from beneath the waters, and the continents previously
existing sunk down and disappeared; so that the land now inhabited was
formerly the ocean's bed. To prove that such a change took place at the
deluge, Granville Penn and Fairholme quote the declaration of God, in
Genesis, respecting the flood--_I will destroy them_, (i. e., men,) _and
the earth, or with the earth_; also the statement of Peter--_The world
that then was, being overflowed with water, perished_. The terms _earth_
and _world_ may mean either the solid globe, or the animals and plants
upon it. If in these passages they have the latter meaning, then they
simply teach that the deluge destroyed the natural life of organic beings.
If they have the former meaning, then the inquiry arises, What are we to
understand by the destruction here described? It may mean annihilation, or
it may imply ruin in some respects. That annihilation did not result from
the deluge is evident from the case of men, who suffered only temporal
death, and even this was not universal; and we know, also, that the matter
of the earth did not perish. We must resort, therefore, to the sacred
history to learn how far the destruction extended That history seems very
plain. There was a rain of forty days, and the fountains of the great deep
were broken up; that is, as Professor Stuart happily expresses it, "The
ocean overflowed while the rain descended in vast quantities." The waters
gradually rose over the dry land, and after a hundred and fifty days,
began to subside, and at the end of a year and a few days they were gone.
Such an overflowing could not take place without producing the almost
entire destruction of organic life, and making extensive havoc with the
soil, especially as a wind assisted in driving these waters from the land.
But there is nothing in the narrative that would lead us to suppose either
a comminution or dissolution of the earth, or the elevation of the ocean's
bed. The same land which was overflowed is described as again emerging.
Indeed, a part of the rivers proceeding out of the garden of Eden are the
same as those now existing on the globe. We must then admit that our
present continents--certainly the Asiatic,--are the same as the
antediluvian, or deny that the account of Eden, in Genesis, is a part of
the Bible. The latter alternative is preferred by Penn and Fairholme.
Surely such men ought to be cautious how they censure geologists for
modifying the meaning of some verses in Genesis, when they thus, without
any evidence of its spuriousness, unceremoniously erase so important a
passage.

I might add to all this that the facts of geology forbid the idea that our
present continents formed the bed of the ocean at so recent a date as that
of Noah's deluge, and that the supposition that all organic remains were
deposited during the two thousand years between the six days' work and the
deluge is totally irreconcilable with all correct philosophy. Why, during
the time when the fossiliferous rocks were in a course of formation, four
or five entirely distinct races of animals and plants successively
occupied the land and the waters, and passed away in regular order; and
these races were so unlike, that they could not have been contemporaneous.
Who will maintain that all this took place in the short period of two
thousand years? I am sure that no geologist will.

But modern geologists have, until recently, supposed that the traces of
Noah's deluge might still be seen upon the earth's surface. I say its
surface; for none of them imagined those effects could have reached to a
great depth. Over a large part of the northern hemisphere they found
extensive accumulations of gravel and bowlders, which had been removed
often a great distance from their parent rocks, while the ledges beneath
were smoothed and striated, obviously by the grating over them of these
piles of detritus. How very natural to refer these effects to the agency
of currents of water; just such currents as might have resulted from a
universal deluge. But the inference was a hasty one For when geologists
came to study the phenomena of drift or diluvium, as these accumulations
of travelled matter are called, they found that currents of water alone
would not explain them all. Some other agency must have been concerned;
and the general opinion now is, that drift has been the result of the
joint action of water and ice; and nearly all geologists suppose that this
action took place before man's existence on the globe. Some suppose it to
have been the result of oceanic currents, while yet our continents were
beneath the waters; others think that the northern ocean may have been
thrown southerly over the dry land by the elevation of its bed; and others
maintain that vast masses of ice may formerly have encircled high
latitudes, whose glaciers, melting away, may have driven towards the
equator the great quantities of drift and bowlders which have been
carried in that direction. In short, it is now found that this is one of
the most difficult problems in geology; and while most geologists agree
that both ice and water have been concerned in producing the phenomena,
the time and manner of their action are not yet very satisfactorily
determined. They may have acted at different periods and in divers
manners; but all the phenomena could not have been the result of one
transient deluge.

From the facts that have now been detailed, it appears that on no subject
of science connected with religion have men been more positive and
dogmatical than in respect to Noah's deluge, and that on no subject has
there been greater change of opinion. From a belief in the complete
destruction and dissolution of the globe by that event, those best
qualified to judge now doubt whether it be possible to identify one mark
of that event in nature.

I shall now proceed to state, in a more definite form, the views of this
subject entertained by the most enlightened judges of its merits at the
present day.

_In the first place, most of the cases of accumulations of drift, the
dispersion of bowlders, and the polish and striae upon rocks in place,
occurred previous to man's existence upon the globe, and cannot have been
the result of Noah's deluge._

From the arguments for sustaining this position I shall select only a
part.

The first is, that the organic remains found in the alluvium considerably
above the drift, which always lies below the alluvium, are many of them of
extinct species. Whether the genuine drift--a heterogeneous mass of
fragments, driven pellmell together--contains any organic relics, is to me
very doubtful. But if the stratified deposits subsequent to the drift
present us with beings no longer alive on the globe, much more would the
drift. Now, the presumption is, that extinct animals and plants belong to
a creation anterior to man, especially if they exhibit a tropical
character,--as those do which are usually assigned to the drift,--since we
have no evidence of a tropical climate in northern latitudes till we get
back to a period far anterior to man.

Secondly. No remains of man or his works have been found in drift, nor
indeed till we rise almost to the top of the alluvial deposit. Even
ancient Armenia has now been examined geologically, with sufficient care
to make it almost certain that human remains do not exist there in drift,
if drift is found there at all; of which there may be a question.

Thirdly. The agency producing drift must have operated during a vastly
longer period than the three hundred and eighty days of Noah's deluge. It
would be easy to show to a geologist that the extensive erosions which are
referrible to that agency, and the huge masses of detritus which have been
the result, must have demanded centuries, and even decades of years. Nor
will any supposed increase of power in the agency explain the results,
without admitting a long period for their action.

Fourthly. Water appears to have been the principal agent in the Noachian
deluge; but in the production of drift, ice was at least equally
concerned.

Finally. The phenomena of deltas, terraces, and ancient sea-beaches, make
the period of the drift immensely more remote than the deluge of Noah,
since these phenomena are all posterior to the drift period. I need not go
into the details of this argument here, since I have drawn them out in my
second lecture. But of all the arguments ever adduced to prove the great
length of time occupied in geological changes, this--which, so far as the
terraces are concerned, has never before, I believe, been adduced--seems
to me the most convincing to those who carefully examine the subject.

We may be sure, then, that the commencement of the drift period, and the
deluge of Noah, cannot have been synchronous. But the drift agency,
connected, as nearly all geologists seem now to be ready to admit, with
the vertical movements of continents, may have operated, and undoubtedly
has, at various periods, and very possibly, in some parts of the world,
long posterior to the period usually called the drift period. I agree,
therefore, in opinion with one of the most eminent and judicious of the
European geologists, Professor Sedgwick of Cambridge, when he says, "If we
have the clearest proofs of great oscillations of sea level, and have a
right to make use of them, while we seek to explain some of the latest
phenomena of geology, may we not reasonably suppose, that, within the
period of human history, similar oscillations have taken place in those
parts of Asia which were the cradle of our race, and may have produced
that destruction among the early families of men, which is described in
our sacred books, and of which so many traditions have been brought down
to us through all the streams of authentic history?"--_Geology of the Lake
District_, p. 14.

_Secondly. Admitting the deluge to have been universal over the globe, it
could not have deposited the fossil remains in the rocks._

This position is too plain to the practical geologist to need a formal
argument to sustain it. But there are many intelligent men, who do not see
clearly why the remains of marine animals and plants may not be referred
to the deluge. And if they could be, then all the demands of the geologist
for long periods anterior to man are without foundation. But they cannot
be, for the following reasons:--

First. On this supposition the organic remains ought to be confusedly
mingled together, since they must have been brought over the land
promiscuously by the waters of the deluge; but they are in fact arranged
in as much order as the specimens of a well-regulated cabinet. The
different rocks that lie above one another do, indeed, contain some
species that are common; but the most are peculiar. It is impossible to
explain such a fact if they were deposited by the deluge.

Secondly. On this theory, at least, a part of the organic remains ought to
correspond with living animals and plants, since the deluge took place so
long after the six days of creation. But with the exception of a few
species near the top of the series, the fossil species are wholly unlike
those now alive.

Thirdly. How, by this theory, can we explain the fact, that there are
found in the rocks at least five distinct races of animals and plants, so
unlike that they could not have been contemporaries? or for the fact, that
most of them are of a highly tropical character? or for the fact, that as
we rise higher in the rocks, there is a nearer and nearer approach to
existing species?

Fourthly. This theory requires us to admit, that in three hundred and
eighty days the waters of the deluge deposited rocks at least six miles in
thickness, over half or two thirds of our existing continents; and these
rocks made up of hundreds of thick beds, exceedingly unlike one another in
composition and organic contents. Will any reasonable man believe this
possible without a miracle?

But I need not multiply arguments on this point. It is a theory which no
reasonable man can long maintain after studying the subject. And if it be
indeed true, that neither in the drift, nor in the fossiliferous rocks,
can we discover any traces of the deluge, then we shall find them nowhere
on the globe. But

_Thirdly. There are no facts in geology that afford any presumption
against the occurrence of the Noachian deluge, but rather the contrary._

The geologist says only, that if any traces of it exist, he cannot
distinguish them from the effects of other analogous agencies that have
operated on the globe at various periods. Some parts of the globe do not
exhibit marks of any powerful aqueous action, such as high northern and
southern latitudes do exhibit. But the sacred record, in its account of
the access and subsidence of diluvial waters, does not require us to
suppose any great degree of violence in their action on the surface; and
although currents somewhat powerful must have been the result, yet they
may not have existed every where, nor have always left traces of their
passage where they did exist. On the other hand, the geologist will admit,
as we have already seen, that in the elevation and subsidence of mountains
and continents, and in volcanic agency generally, of which geology
contains so many examples, we have an adequate cause for extensive, if not
universal, deluges; nor can he say how recently this cause may have
operated beneath certain oceans, sufficiently to produce the deluge of the
Scriptures. So that, in fact, we have in geology a presumption in favor
of, rather than against, such a deluge. Nay, some, who have examined
Armenia, have thought they found there a deposit which could be referred
to the deluge of Noah; but I have no access to any facts on this point.

_Fourthly. There are reasons, both in natural history and in the
Scriptures, for supposing that the deluge may not have been universal over
the globe, but only over the region inhabited by man._

This is a position of no small importance, and will, therefore, require
our careful examination. And in the beginning, I wish to premise, that I
assume the deluge to have been brought about by natural operations, or in
conformity with the laws of nature. I feel no reluctance in admitting it
to have been strictly miraculous, provided the narrative will allow of
such a conclusion. But if it was miraculous, then we must give up the idea
of philosophizing about it, and believe the facts simply on the divine
testimony. For how can we philosophize upon an event that is brought about
by the direct efficiency of God, and without reference to existing natural
laws, and, it may be, in contravention of them, unless, indeed, the
history contains such contradictions as even infinite power and wisdom
could not make harmonious? Some writers endeavor to show the conformity of
the sacred history of the deluge to established natural laws, until they
meet with some objection too strong to be answered, when they turn round
and declare the whole occurrence to have been miraculous. This I conceive
to be absurd, and I shall accordingly proceed on the supposition that the
whole event was a penal infliction, brought about by natural laws; or, at
least, if there was any thing miraculous, it consisted in giving greater
power to natural operations, without interfering with the regular sequence
of cause and effect. And does not the narrative leave the impression on
the mind of the reader, that it was brought about by natural means? The
sacred writer distinctly assigns two natural causes of the increase of the
waters, viz., a rain of forty days and the breaking up of the fountains of
the great deep, which doubtless means an overflow of the ocean; and, to
hasten the subsidence of the waters, it is said that God made a wind to
blow over the surface. It is no proof of miraculous agency, that the whole
work is referred to the immediate power of God, for it is well known that
this is the usual mode in which the sacred writers speak of natural
events.

The first difficulty in the way of supposing the flood to have been
literally universal, is the great quantity of water that would have been
requisite.

The amount necessary to cover the earth to the tops of the highest
mountains, or about five miles above the present oceans, would be eight
times greater than that existing on the globe at this time. From whence
could this immense volume of water have been derived? A great deal of
ingenuity has been devoted to give an answer to this inquiry. By some it
has been supposed, that most of the earth's interior is occupied by water,
and the theorist had only to devise means for forcing it to the surface.
One does this by the forcible compression of the crust; another, by the
expansive power of internal heat; another, by the generation of various
gases through galvanic action. Others have maintained that the
antediluvian continents were sunk beneath the ocean at that time, though
such find it hard to tell us why there was a rain of forty days upon land
that was ready to subside beneath the ocean. Others have resort to a
comet's impinging against the earth, and throwing the waters of the ocean
over the land. But they were not aware that comets are mere vapor. Others
suppose (and surely theirs is the most plausible theory) that the
elevation of the bed of some ocean, by volcanic agency, threw its waters
over the adjoining continents, and the mighty wave thus produced would not
stop till it had swept over all other continents and islands. But in this
case, it is evident that the continent first overflowed must have been
left dry before the wave had reached other continents, so that, in fact,
all parts of the earth would not have been enveloped simultaneously; and
besides, how unlike such a violent rushing of the waters over the land is
the scriptural account! In short, so unsatisfactory have been most of the
theories to account for the water requisite to produce a universal deluge,
that most writers have resorted, in the end, to miraculous agency to
obtain it. And that, in fact, is the most satisfactory mode of getting
over this difficulty, if the Scriptures unequivocally teach the
universality of the deluge.

A second objection to such a universality is, the difficulty of providing
for the animals in the ark.

Calculations have indeed been made, which seemed to show that the ark was
capacious enough to hold the pairs and septuples of all the species. But,
unfortunately, the number of species assumed to exist by the calculators
was vastly below the truth. It amounted only to three or four hundred;
whereas the actual number already described by zoologists is not less than
one hundred and fifty thousand; and the probable number existing on the
globe is not less than half a million. And for the greater part of these
must provision have been made, since most of them inhabit either the air
or the dry land. A thousand species of mammalia, six thousand species of
birds, two thousand species of reptiles, and one hundred and twenty
thousand species of insects are already described, and must have been
provided with space and food. Will any one believe this possible, in a
vessel not more than four hundred and fifty feet long, seventy-five feet
broad, and forty-five feet high?

The third and most important objection to this universality of the deluge
is derived from the facts brought to light by modern science, respecting
the distribution of animals and plants on the globe.

It was the opinion of Linnaeus that all animals and plants had their
commencement in a particular region of the earth, from whence they
migrated into all other parts of its surface. And had no new facts come to
light since his day, to change the aspect of the subject, one would
hesitate long before adopting views opposed to so distinguished a
naturalist. But new facts, in vast numbers, have been multiplying ever
since his day, and zoologists and botanists now almost universally adopt
the opinion, early promulgated by Dr. Prichard, in his admirable work on
the Physical History of Man, that there must have been several centres of
creation, from which the animals and plants radiated only so far as the
climate and food were adapted to their natures, except a few species
endowed with the power of accommodating themselves to all climates.
Certain it is that they are now thus distributed; and it is inevitable
death for most species to venture beyond certain limits. If tropical
animals and plants, for instance, were to migrate to the temperate zones,
and especially to the frigid regions, they could not long survive; and
almost equally fatal would it be for the animals and plants of high
latitudes to take up their abode near the equator. But even within the
tropics we find distinct species of animals and plants on opposite
continents. Indeed, naturalists reckon a large number of botanical and
zoological districts, or provinces, as they are called, within which they
find certain peculiar groups of animals and plants, with natures exactly
adapted to that particular district, but incapable of enduring the
different climate of adjoining districts. They differ considerably as to
the number of these districts, because the plants and animals of our globe
are by no means yet fully described, and because the districts assigned to
the different classes do not fully coincide; but as to the existence of
such a distribution, they are of one opinion. The most reliable divisions
of this kind make twenty-five botanical provinces, and five kingdoms and
fourteen provinces among animals.[10]

The fact that man, and some of the domesticated animals, and a few plants,
are found in almost every climate, has, until recently, blinded the eyes
of naturalists to the manner in which the great mass of animals and plants
are confined within certain prescribed limits. But so soon as the general
fact is stated, we immediately recur to abundant proof of its truth. We
should be disposed to question the veracity of that traveller who should
visit a new and remote country, and describe its vegetable and animal
productions as essentially the same as in our own; and all because the
analogy of other portions of the globe leads us to expect that a new
geographical province shall present us with a peculiar _fauna_ and
_flora_; that is, with peculiar groups of animals and plants.

It is obvious that the facts which have been stated have an important
bearing upon the mode in which the animals were brought together to enter
the ark, and were afterwards distributed through the earth, if the deluge
were universal. Certain it is that, without miraculous preservation, they
could never have been brought together, nor again dispersed. We have
reason to suppose that the ark was constructed in some part of the
temperate zone. Now, suppose the animals of the torrid zone at the present
day to attempt, by natural means, to reach the temperate zone; who does
not know that nearly all of them must perish? Nor is it any easier to
conceive how, after the flood, they could have migrated into all
continents, and islands, and climates, and how each species should have
found the place exactly fitted to its constitution, as we now find them.
Indeed, the idea of their collection and dispersion in a natural way is
altogether too absurd to be believed. And we must, therefore, resort to a
miracle, or suppose a new creation to have taken place after the deluge,
or admit the flood to have been limited. If the latter supposition be not
inconsistent with the Bible, it completely relieves the difficulty. If we
suppose the limited region of Central Asia, where man existed, to have
been deluged, and pairs and septuples of the most common animals in that
region only to have been kept alive in the ark, the entire account will
harmonize with natural history. The question, then, whether such a view is
consistent with the Bible, becomes of great interest; and to this point I
beg leave next to direct your attention.

If we understand the scriptural account to denote a literal universality,
it is certainly very natural to inquire why such universality was
necessary, since the deluge is represented as a penal infliction upon man.
For it seems difficult to believe as some writers have attempted to prove,
that the human family had become very numerous, or had extended far beyond
the spot where they were first planted, in less than two thousand years;
especially when we recollect how few were the children of patriarchs whose
age amounted to many centuries, and how very probable it is that the
extreme wickedness of most of the antediluvians tended to their extinction
rather than their multiplication. Why, then, for the sake of destroying
man, occupying probably only a limited portion of one continent, was it
necessary to depopulate all other continents and islands, inhabited only
by irresponsible animals, who had no connection with man? If the
Scriptures unequivocally declare that such was the fact, we are bound to
believe it on divine testimony. But if their language admits of a
different interpretation, it seems reasonable to adopt it.

And here I am willing to acknowledge that the language of the Bible on
this subject seems, at first view, to teach the universality of the flood,
unequivocally. _The waters_, say they, _prevailed exceedingly upon the
earth, and all the high hills that were under the whole heaven were
covered._ Again: _Behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the
earth to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life, from under
heaven; and every thing that is in the earth shall die._ If such language
be interpreted by the same rules which we should apply to a modern
composition, it could in no way be understood to teach a limited deluge or
a partial destruction. But in respect to this ancient record, two
considerations are to be carefully weighed.

In the first place, the terms employed are not to be judged of by the
state of knowledge in the nineteenth century, but by its state among the
people to whom this revelation was first addressed. When the earth was
spoken of to that people, (the ancient Jews,) they could not have
understood it to embrace a much wider region than that inhabited by man,
because they could not have had any idea of what lay beyond those limits.
And so of the phrase _heaven_; it must have been coextensive with the
inhabited earth only. And when it was said that all animals would die by
the deluge, they could not have supposed the declaration to embrace
creatures far beyond the dwellings of men, because they knew nothing of
such regions. Why, then, may we not attach the same limited meaning to
these declarations? Why should we suppose that the Holy Spirit used terms,
adapted, indeed, to the astronomy and geography of the nineteenth century,
but conveying only a false idea to those to whom they were addressed?

In the second place, in all ages and nations, and especially among
ancient ones, "universal terms are often used to signify only a very large
amount in number or quantity."--Dr. Smith, _Scrip. and Geol._ p. 212, 4th
ed.--The Hebrew [Hebrew], (_kol_,) the [Greek: pas], and the English
_all_, are alike employed in this manner, to signify _many_. There are
some very striking cases of this sort in the Bible. Thus in Genesis it is
said that _all countries came into Egypt to Joseph to buy corn, because
the famine was sore in all lands_. This certainly could apply only to the
well-known countries around Egypt; for transportation would have been
impossible to the remotest parts of the habitable globe. In the account of
the plagues that came upon Egypt, it is said that _the hail smote every
herb of the field, and brake every tree of the field_; but, in a few days
afterwards, it is said of the locusts that _they did eat every herb of the
land and all the fruit of the trees which the hail had left_. _This day_,
said God to the Israelites, while yet in their journeyings, _will I begin
to put the fear of thee and the dread of thee upon the face of the nations
under all the heavens_. But it is obvious that only the nations contiguous
to the Israelites, chiefly the Canaanites, are here meant. In the New
Testament, it is said that, at the time of the pentecost, there were
dwelling at Jerusalem _Jews, devout men, out of every nation under
heaven_. Yet, in the enumeration, which follows this passage, of the
different places from which those Jews had come, we find only a region
extending from Italy to Persia, and from Egypt to the Black Sea. It could
have been a district of only about that size which Paul meant, when he
said to the Colossians that the _gospel was preached to every creature
which is under heaven_. In the First Book of Kings, it is said that _all
the earth sought the presence of Solomon, to hear his wisdom_;--a passage
which requires as much limitation as the others above quoted. A similar
mode of expression is employed by Christ, when he says of the queen of
Sheba that she came from _the uttermost parts of the earth to hear the
wisdom of Solomon_; for her residence, being probably on the Arabian Gulf,
could not have been more than twelve or fourteen hundred miles from
Jerusalem. A like figurative mode of speech is employed in the description
of Peter's vision, in which he saw a great sheet let down to the earth,
_wherein were all manner of four-footed beasts of the earth, and wild
beasts, and creeping things, and fowls of the air_. Who will suppose,
since it is wholly unnecessary for the object, which was to convince Peter
that the Mosaic distinction into clean and unclean beasts was abolished,
that he here had a vision of all the species of terrestrial vertebral
animals on the globe?

It would be easy to multiply similar passages. In many of them we should
find that the phrase _all the earth_ signifies the land of Palestine; in a
few, the Chaldean empire; and in one, that of Alexander of Macedon.

Now, so similar is the phraseology of the passages just quoted to that
descriptive of the deluge, so universal are the terms, while we are sure
that their meaning must be limited, that we are abundantly justified in
considering the deluge as limited, if other parts of the Bible, or the
facts of natural history, require such a limitation. Indeed, so obviously
analogous are the passages quoted to the Mosaic account of the deluge,
that distinguished writers have regarded the deluge as limited, long
before geology existed, or natural history had learned the manner in which
organic life is distributed on the globe; nay, at a period when
naturalists, with Linnaeus at their head, supposed animals and plants to
have proceeded from one centre:--an opinion that seemed to sustain the
notion of the universality of the flood. The inference, then, that it was
limited, must have been made chiefly on exegetical grounds.

"I cannot see," says Bishop Stillingfleet, more than a century ago, "any
urgent necessity from the Scripture to assert that the flood did spread
over all the surface of the earth. That all mankind, those in the ark
excepted, were destroyed by it, is most certain, according to the
Scriptures. The flood was universal as to mankind; but from thence follows
no necessity at all of asserting the universality of it as to the globe of
the earth, unless it be sufficiently proved that the whole earth was
peopled before the flood, which I despair of ever seeing
proved."--_Origines Sacrae_, B. III. chap. 4, p. 337, ed. 1709.

Matthew Poole, well known for his valuable and extensive commentaries on
the Bible, thus expresses himself: "It is not to be supposed that the
entire globe of the earth was covered with water. Where was the need of
overwhelming those regions in which there were no human beings? It would
be highly unreasonable to suppose that mankind had so increased before the
deluge as to have penetrated to all the corners of the earth. It is,
indeed, not probable that they had extended themselves beyond the limits
of Syria and Mesopotamia. Absurd it would be to affirm that the effects of
the punishment inflicted upon men alone applied to places in which there
were no men. If, then, we should entertain the belief that not so much as
the hundredth part of the globe was overspread with water, still the
deluge would be universal, because the extirpation took effect upon all
the part of the globe which was inhabited. If we take this ground, the
difficulties which some have raised about the deluge fall away as
inapplicable, and mere cavils; and irreligious persons have no reason left
them for doubting the truth of the Holy Scriptures."--_Synopsis on Gen._
vii. 19.

Poole wrote nearly two centuries ago. In more recent times, we find
authorities equally eminent for learning and candor adopting the same
views. "Interpreters," says Dathe, "do not agree whether the deluge
inundated the whole earth, or only those regions then inhabited. I adopt
the latter opinion. The phrase _all_ does not prove the inundation to have
been universal. It appears that in many places [Hebrew] (_kol_) is to be
understood as limited to the thing or place spoken of. Hence all the
animals said to have been introduced into the ark were only those of the
region inundated. So, also, only those mountains are to be understood,
which were surmounted by the waters."--_Pentateuchus a Dathio_, p. 63.

But no modern writer has treated this subject with so much candor and
ability--and the same may be said of his whole work on the "Relation of
the Holy Scriptures to some Parts of Geological Science"--as Dr. John Pye
Smith. We can say of him, what we can say of very few men, that he is
accurately acquainted with all the branches of the subject. Eminent as a
theologian and a philologist, and fully possessed of all the facts in
geology and natural history, he gives us his opinion, not as a young man,
fond of novelties, but in the full maturity of judgment and of years.
"From these instances," says he, "of the scriptural idiom in the
application of phraseology similar to that in the narrative concerning the
flood, I humbly think that those terms do not oblige us to understand a
literal universality; so that we are exonerated from some otherwise
insuperable difficulties in natural history and geology. If so much of the
earth was overflowed as was occupied by the human race, both the physical
and the moral ends of that awful visitation were answered."--_Scrip. and
Geol._ p. 214, 4th ed.

"Let us now take the seat of the antediluvian population," continues Dr.
Smith, "to have been in Western Asia, in which a large district, even at
the present day, lies considerably below the level of the sea. It must not
be forgotten that six weeks of continued rain would not give an amount of
water forty times that which fell on the first, or a subsequent day, for
evaporation would be continually carrying up the water to be condensed,
and to fall again; so that the same mass of water would return many times.
If, then, in addition to the tremendous rain, we suppose an elevation of
the bed of the Persian and Indian Seas, or a subsidence of the inhabited
land towards the south, we shall have sufficient cause in the hands of
almighty justice for submerging the district, covering its hills, and
destroying all living beings within its limits, except those whom divine
mercy preserved in the ark. The drawing off of the waters would be
effected by a return of the bed of the sea to a lower level, or by the
elevation of some tracts of land, which would leave channels and <DW72>s
for the larger part of the water to flow back into the Indian Ocean, while
the lower part remained a great lake, or an inland sea, the Caspian."--p.
217.

It is a circumstance favoring the above suggestions of Dr. Smith, that
there is a tract of country ten degrees of latitude in breadth, embracing
most of Asia Minor, ancient Armenia and Georgia, and part of Persia,
extending at least as far east as the Caspian Sea, and probably much
farther, in which volcanic agency has been in operation at a comparatively
recent period. I am not aware that we have evidence of any eruption of
lava in those regions, within historic times, except, perhaps, some mud
volcanoes in the Caucasian range. The Katekekaumene, or Burnt District, of
Asia Minor, and Mount Ararat, probably experienced eruptions at a date
somewhat earlier, though at a comparatively recent date. Yet important
changes of level may have been the result of volcanic agency in Central
Asia, as recently as the Noachian deluge, without leaving any traces which
would be obvious, without more careful observation than has yet been made
in those regions. Especially might a subsidence of the surface have taken
place, and not have left any striking evidence of its occurrence. Still
more difficult would it now be to discover the marks of vertical movements
in the bed of the Indian Ocean at the time of the deluge.

I will venture to add another suggestion. If the bed of the Indian Ocean
was uplifted by volcanic matter, struggling to get vent, vapor enough
might have been liberated to account, on natural principles, for the forty
days' rain of the deluge. For it is well known that in volcanic eruptions
drenching rains are often the result of the sudden condensation of the
aqueous vapor.

We are here met, however, by a serious objection to the hypothesis, which
gives only a limited extent to the deluge. If the present Mount Ararat, in
Armenia, is the mountain on which the ark first rested, a deluge which
covered its top must, by its flux and reflux, have overspread nearly all
other portions of the globe, for that mountain rises seventeen thousand
seven hundred feet above the ocean. But we are informed by Jerome, that
the name Ararat was given generally to the mountains of Armenia; (indeed,
that is the meaning of the name;) and long before geology existed,
Shuckford suggested that some spot farther east corresponds better with
the scriptural account of the place where the ark rested. For it is said
of the families of the sons of Noah, that, as they journeyed from the
east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar. Now, Shinar, or Babylonia,
lies nearly south of the Armenian Ararat, and the probability, therefore,
is, that the true Ararat, from whose vicinity the descendants of Noah
probably emigrated, lay much farther to the south. Again, if the ark
rested upon the present Ararat, it is impossible, except by a miracle,
that those who came out of it could have reached the plain below; for so
exceedingly difficult of access is it, that it is doubtful whether, since
the deluge, any one ever succeeded in reaching its summit, till the year
1829. Indeed, it is an article in the creed of the Armenian church that
its ascent is impossible. That the almost universal tradition of Eastern
nations should have fixed upon that mountain as the resting-place of the
ark is not strange, considering that there is no mountain in all Asia so
striking to behold.

But upon the whole, the probability is strong that some other elevation,
less lofty and steep, was the radiating point of the postdiluvian races of
man and other animals. The fact of Noah's sending forth a dove from the
ark, which came back in the evening with an olive leaf in her mouth,
strengthens the preceding view. For neither upon the present Ararat, nor
around it, does the olive grow, because it is too cold. Indeed, all its
upper part is covered with perpetual ice. But if the Ararat of Scripture
lay nearer the tropics, the olive might find upon it a congenial spot. A
distinguished botanist adduced the fact about the olive as evidence
against the Bible. But how easily refuted, if the theory now under
examination be true!

In favor of this supposition, I might have urged another consideration,
which, in my mind, has no little weight. It is impossible that the waters
of the deluge should have covered the earth for a year, without destroying
nearly all the existing vegetation. Yet nothing is said of the
preservation of seeds in the ark; and if they had been preserved,
certainly nothing but miraculous power, and that of the most remarkable
kind, could have scattered them through the remotest continents and
islands, so as to form distinct botanical districts, such as have been
described. The olive, from which a leaf was plucked by the dove sent out
of the ark, was probably situated upon elevated ground, and where it
remained but a short time beneath the waters, and therefore did not lose
its vitality.

It is probable that the theory which makes the deluge limited in extent
will meet with more favor than any other, with candid and intelligent men,
to meet the suggested difficulties of the case. But some, who are
unwilling to abandon the idea of the universality of the deluge, avoid
these difficulties by supposing a new creation to have taken place at that
epoch. That such a new creation occurred at the commencement of several
geological periods can hardly admit a doubt. And a presumption is hence
derived in favor of a similar act at the beginning of the postdiluvian
period, preceded as it was, like the other geological periods, by an
almost entire destruction of organic life.

The principal objection to this view is, that no notice is taken of such a
new creation in the Bible. And it would seem that an event of so much
importance would hardly be passed in silence; and yet the bringing into
existence new races of the inferior animals and plants could have but
little bearing upon the object of revelation, which respects almost
exclusively the spiritual condition of man. One, however, can hardly see
why pairs and septuples of the animals, even in a limited district, need
to have been preserved in the ark, if a new creation were to follow the
coming catastrophe; nor why the creation of the antediluvian animals, so
soon to perish, should have been so particularly described, while no
notice was taken of the postdiluvian races, which were to occupy the earth
so much longer time.

A third theory has been suggested by some, embracing both those which have
been described. They admit the deluge to have been of limited extent, but
suppose this limitation not to be sufficient to explain all the facts of
revelation and of science, without a new creation also, at the
commencement of the postdiluvian period. They suppose, indeed, that
geology and natural history teach the occasional extinction of species,
and the creation of others, even in our own times. And in regard to this
latter view, it may at least be said that it is not contradicted by the
Bible. Nay, one would almost suppose that the Psalmist were describing
such a state of things when he says, _Thou hidest thy face; they_
[animals] _are troubled. Thou takest away their breath; they die and
return to their dust. Thou sendest forth thy spirit; they are created; and
thou renewest the face of the earth._ The resemblance between this
language and that employed to describe the original creation is striking.
Indeed, the same word (_bawraw_) is used.

Without attempting to decide which of these theories has the highest claim
upon our belief, it is sufficient to remark, that either of them
reconciles the facts of geology and natural history with the inspired
record; nor does the adoption of either of them require us to put a forced
and unnatural construction upon the language of the Bible. Even then, if
we should admit that a construction agreeing with these theories is not
the most natural meaning, yet if the facts of natural history
unequivocally require such an interpretation to harmonize the Bible with
nature, it is assuredly one of those cases where science must be allowed
to modify our exegesis of Scripture. In the view of sound philosophy, such
modification at once disarms scepticism of its cavils.

With two remarks of a practical character, I close the discussion of this
subject.

First. The history of opinions respecting the Noachian deluge furnishes a
salutary lesson to those employed in the examination of analogous
subjects. We have seen these opinions assume almost every possible shape;
yet, until recently they have all been maintained with the most positive
and dogmatic assurance; and each particular theory has been regarded as
involving the essence of the Bible, as being the _articulus stantis vel
cadentis ecclesiae_, and whoever denied it virtually denied the Bible. But
all reasonable and truly scientific men are fast coming to the conclusion,
that the deluge has had very little to do with the present configuration
of the globe, and that it is doubtful whether any trace of its occurrence
will ever be found in nature; so that, on the one hand, all the alarms and
denunciations of misguided Christians on this subject might have been
spared; and, on the other hand, if the hasty exultation of the infidel, in
his supposed discovery of discrepancy between nature and Moses, had been
suppressed until the subject was understood, he would not have experienced
the mortification of entire defeat.

It is, indeed, very humiliating to human nature to find so many of the
wise, the talented, and the religious so confident and zealous, yet so
erroneous. But it is a salutary lesson. It shows us the vast importance of
being thoroughly acquainted with a subject before we dogmatize upon it. It
should not, indeed, discourage us, and produce a universal scepticism on
all subjects not admitting a mathematical demonstration; but it should
make us cautious in examining the grounds of our conclusions, and modest
in maintaining them.

Secondly. It is interesting to observe how, amid all the diversities and
fluctuations of opinion on this subject, the Bible has remained
unaffected.

The infidel felt confident that the arrows which he drew from this quiver
would certainly pierce Christianity to the heart. But they rebounded from
her adamantine breastplate, blunted and broken; and no one will have the
courage to pick them up and hurl them again. The physico-theological
school at one time felt certain, that no other theory but an entire
dissolution of the crust of the globe at the deluge, could possibly be
made consistent with the Bible. More recently, it has been supposed
equally necessary, to reconcile geology and revelation, that we should
admit the antediluvian continents to have sunk beneath the ocean at that
time. Still later, it has been thought quite certain that the surface of
the earth bore the most striking marks of a universal deluge, probably
identical with that of Scripture. At length, the extreme opinion is now
generally reached, that no trace of the deluge of Noah remains. And
equally wide and well established is the belief that, amid all these
fluctuations of theory, the Bible has stood as an immovable rock amid the
conflicting waves. The final result is, that we have only slightly to
modify the interpretation of the Mosaic account, in conformity with the
laws of language, to make it entirely consistent with the notion that all
traces of the deluge have disappeared. Thus, in the midst of human
opinions, veering to every point of the compass, the Bible has ever
remained fixed to one point. Not so with false systems of religion. The
Hindoo religion contains a false astronomy, as well as anatomy and
physiology; and the Mohammedan Koran distinctly advances the Ptolemaic
hypothesis of the universe; so that you have only to prove these religions
false in science in order to destroy their claim to infallibility. But the
Bible, stating only facts, does not interfere with, neither is affected
by, the hypotheses of philosophy. Often, indeed, in past ages, have men
set up their hypotheses as oracles in the temple of nature, to be
consulted rather than the Bible. But, like Dagon before the ark, they have
fallen to the earth, and been broken in pieces before the Word of God;
while this has ever stood and ever shall stand, in sublime simplicity and
undecaying strength, amid the wrecks of every false system of philosophy
and religion.




LECTURE V.

THE WORLD'S SUPPOSED ETERNITY.


In our attempts thus far to elucidate the religion of geology, our
attention has been directed to those points where this science has been
supposed to conflict with revelation; and I trust it has been made
manifest that the collision was rather with the interpretation than with
the meaning of Scripture; and that, in fact, geology, instead of coming
into collision with the Bible, affords us important aid in understanding
it aright. We now advance to a part of the subject which has a more direct
bearing upon natural religion. And here, if I mistake not, we shall find
the illustration of religious truth from this science, as we might expect,
more direct and palpable.

The subject to which I wish first to call your attention is the world's
eternity, or the eternal existence of matter. This was the universal
belief of the philosophers of antiquity, and, indeed, of most reasoning
minds where the Bible has not been known. The grand argument by which this
opinion was sustained is the well-known _ex nihilo nihil fit_, (nothing
produces nothing.) Hence men inferred that not even the Deity could create
matter out of nothing; and, therefore, it must be eternal. Most of the
ancient philosophers, however, did not hence infer the non-existence of
the Deity. But they endeavored to reconcile the existence of eternal
matter with an eternal Spirit. They supposed both to be self-existent and
coexistent. From this rational thinking principle they supposed all good
to be derived; while from the material irrational principle all evil
sprung. Plato taught that God, of his own will, united himself with
matter, although he did not create it, and out of it produced the present
world; so that it was proper to speak of the world as created, although
the matter was from eternity. Aristotle and Zeno taught that God's union
with matter was necessary; and hence they considered the world eternal. In
the opinion of Epicurus, God was entirely separated from matter, which
consisted of innumerable atoms, floating about from eternity, like dust in
the air, until at last they assumed the present form of the world.

In modern times, the belief in the eternity of matter has usually been
connected with, or made the basis of, a refined and popular system of
atheism. I refer to the pantheism of Spinoza. He maintains that there
exists in the universe but one substance, variously modified, whose two
principal attributes are infinite extension and infinite intelligence.
This substance, the [Greek: to pan] of Spinoza, he regarded as God; and
hence his system is called _Pantheism_. Under various modifications, it
has been adopted by many sceptical minds, and is, undoubtedly, the most
common and plausible system of atheism extant. Other modern writers, among
whom may be mentioned that anomalous philosopher Bayle, have advocated the
views of the ancients respecting the eternity of matter.

It may seem strange, but it is true, that some Christian philosophers and
divines have been, in ancient and modern times, the advocates of the
eternity of matter. The ancient Christians adopted it from Plato. Thus we
find Justin Martyr maintaining that God formed the world from an eternal,
unorganized material. And the schoolmen, who followed Aristotle, taught
that "God had created the world from eternity." On this ground, even some
Protestant theologians have asserted that it was absurd to speak of an
eternal God who is not an eternal Creator.

A principle which has thus been adopted by so many acute minds
unenlightened by revelation, and by some who possessed that divine
testimony, must be sustained by some plausible arguments. The principal
one relied on is, that the changes which are going on in the material
world are proved to be only transmutations, which follow one another in
series that return into themselves, and which may, therefore, have been
going on from eternity; and if this be admitted, it is as easy to suppose
matter to be self-sustained, and to have fallen into its present order of
itself, as to suppose the interference of an infinite Spirit. "How do we
know," says Dr. Chalmers, in stating the atheistic argument, "that the
world is a consequent at all? Is there any greater absurdity in supposing
it to have existed, as it now is, at any specified point of time,
throughout the millions of ages that are past, than that it should so
exist at this moment? Does what we suppose might have been then, imply any
greater absurdity, than what we actually see to be at present? Now, might
not the same question be carried back to any point or period of duration,
however remote? or, in other words, might we not dispense with a beginning
for the world altogether?" "For aught we can know _a priori_," says Hume,
"matter may contain the source or spring of order originally within itself
as well as mind does; and there is no more difficulty in conceiving that
the several elements, from an internal, unknown cause, may fall into the
most exquisite arrangement, than to conceive that their ideas, in the
great universal mind, from a like internal cause, fall into that
arrangement. If this material world rests upon a similar ideal world,
this ideal world must rest upon some other, and so on without end. It
were better, therefore, never to look beyond the present material world.
By supposing it to contain the principle of its order within itself, we
really assert it to be God; and the sooner we arrive at that divine Being,
so much the better."

Now, in what manner have these ingenious arguments been met? Until quite
recently, no one has supposed that any light on this subject could be
derived from geology. Indeed, even now, by many, that science is regarded
as favoring the idea of the world's eternity. Neither has it been thought
that, on a question of natural theology, like this, it was proper to
appeal to the Bible. Philosophers and divines, however, have attempted to
reply to these arguments, irrespective of geology and revelation; and they
have generally convinced themselves that they have been successful. But to
my mind, I must confess, this has always appeared the weakest spot in
natural religion. Some of the arguments to prove the world not eternal do,
indeed, appear, at first statement, very profound; but they rather silence
than convince; and the longer we reflect upon them, the more apt are we to
doubt their force.

And here I am constrained to bear testimony to the masterly manner in
which this subject has been treated by Dr. Chalmers. Perceiving that the
defences of natural religion on this subject were weak, in spite of much
show of strength, he has laid out his giant force of intellect in clearing
away the rubbish and building a rampart of rock. His remarkable skill in
seizing upon and bringing out prominently the great principles of a
difficult subject, and turning them round and round till they fill every
eye, is here most happily exerted.

Let us now proceed, in the first place, to examine the arguments that have
been adduced to prove the non-eternity of the world, independent of
geology and revelation; and in the second place, to derive from these two
sources of evidence the true ground on which that proposition rests.

The first supposed proof that the world has not eternally existed is
derived from what is called the _a priori_ argument for the existence of
the Deity, originally proposed by the monk Anselmus, and afterwards more
fully illustrated in England by Dr. Samuel Clarke. Take the following
brief summary of this argument, as applied to the eternity of matter, in
the words of Dr. Crombie.

"Whatever has existed from eternity, independent and without any external
cause, must be self-existent. Whatever is self-existent must exist
necessarily, by an absolute necessity in the nature of the thing. This is
also self-evident. It follows, therefore, that unless the material world
exist necessarily, by an absolute necessity in its own nature, so that it
must be a contradiction to suppose it not to exist, it cannot be
independent and eternal. In order to disprove this absolute necessity, he
[Dr. Clarke] reasoned thus: If matter be supposed to exist necessarily,
then in that necessary existence is included the power of gravitation, or
it is not. If not, then in a world merely material, and in which no
intelligent being presides, there never could have been any motion. But if
the power of gravitation be included in the pretended necessary existence
of matter, then it follows necessarily, that there must be a vacuum; it
follows, likewise, that matter is not a necessary being. For if a vacuum
actually be, then it is plainly more than possible for matter not to be."

Is it not passing strange that such a dreamy argumentation as this--and it
is a fair sample of Dr. Clarke's extended work on the existence of the
Deity--should have been regarded as sound logic by many of the acutest
minds, and that a majority even of the ablest metaphysicians, up almost
to the present day, should have felt satisfied with it? A few minds,
indeed, long ago perceived its fallacy, among whom was Alexander Pope, who
thus sarcastically describes it:--

  "Be that my task, replies a gloomy Clarke,
  Sworn foe to mystery, yet divinely dark.
  Let others creep by timid steps and slow,
  On plain experience lay foundation low,
  By common sense to common notions bred,
  And last to nature's cause through nature led,
  All-seeing in thy mists, we need no guide,
  Mother of arrogance, and source of pride!
  We nobly take the high _priori_ road,
  And reason downward till we doubt of God."
                                          _Dunciad_, Book IV.

It is impossible, on this occasion, to go into a formal refutation of this
famous argument. But this is unnecessary; since, as Dr. Chalmers says, it
"has fallen into utter disesteem and desuetude." Indeed, the language of
Dr. Thomas Brown on this subject is not too severe, when he says, that he
"conceives the abstract arguments that have been adduced to show that it
is impossible for matter to have existed from eternity, by reasoning on
what has been termed necessary existence, and the incompatibility of this
necessary existence with the qualities of matter, to be relics of the mere
verbal logic of the schools, as little capable of producing conviction as
any of the wildest and most absurd of the technical scholastic reasonings
on the properties, or supposed properties, of entity and nonentity."

In the second place, it has been argued with much apparent plausibility,
by Dr. Paley, that wherever we find a complicated organic structure,
adapted to produce beneficial results, its origin must be sought beyond
itself; and since the world abounds with such organisms, it cannot be
eternal; that is, the mere existence of animals and plants proves their
non-eternity.

Now, without asserting that there is no force in this argument, I have two
remarks to make upon it. The first is, to quote the reply to it, which
such a writer as David Hume has given, in language which I have just
repeated. "For aught we can know _a priori_," says he, "matter may
contain the source or spring of order originally within itself, as well as
mind does; and there is no more difficulty in conceiving that the several
elements, from an internal unknown cause, may fall into the most exquisite
arrangement, than to conceive that their ideas in the great universal
mind, from a like internal unknown cause, fall into that arrangement. To
say that the different ideas, which compose the reason of the Supreme,
fall into order of themselves, and by their own nature, is really to talk
without any precise meaning. If it has a meaning, I would fain know why it
is not as good sense to say, that the parts of the material world fall
into order of themselves and by their own nature. Can the one opinion be
intelligible while the other is not so?"

Fairly to meet this reasoning of the prince of sceptics is not an
achievement of dulness or ignorance. In order to do it triumphantly, we
want, what Dr. Paley could not find, a distinct example of the creation of
numerous organic beings by some cause independent of themselves. I say, he
could not find such an example; for on a question of natural theology, he
did not think it proper to appeal to the Bible; nor had geology, when he
wrote, revealed her astonishing record on this subject. But as it is now
developed, it puts an end to all controversy as to the origin of the
organic world.

My second remark, however, on this argument is, that even admitting its
correctness, it only proves the commencement of organic natures, but does
not show that the matter of which they are composed may not have been
eternal.

In the third place, an argument against the eternal existence of matter
has been derived by Sir John Herschel, one of the most distinguished
natural philosophers of the day, from the atomic constitution of bodies,
as made known to us by chemistry. This science makes it certainly
probable, that even the infinitesimal particles of matter have a definite
and peculiar shape, and size, and weight, in each of the elements. "Now,"
says this writer, "when we see a great number of things precisely alike,
we do not believe this similarity to have originated, except from a common
principle independent of them." "The discoveries alluded to effectually
destroy the idea of an external self-existent matter, by giving to each of
its atoms the essential characters at once of a manufactured article and a
subordinate agent."

To this argument the atheist's reply would be essentially the same as that
last considered; and in one respect it would even be more forcible,
because the atomic constitution of bodies, being less complex, is less
obviously the result of foreign agency, and may more easily be regarded as
the necessary property of eternal matter. On the other hand, however, it
is more obviously an attribute of the original constitution of matter than
organic structure; and if it does require an independent agency for its
production, it seems difficult to conceive of the existence of matter in a
previous state. So that, in this point of view, this argument is more
forcible than the last; and it is no small evidence that it has real
strength, that it comes to us from one of the most acute and impartial
minds in Europe.

In the fourth place, it is maintained that the idea of an eternal
succession, or chain of being, which the atheistic advocates of the
world's eternity defend, is highly absurd, and even mathematically false.

The atheist mainly relies upon this notion of an eternal series of things;
for if he can defend that opinion, he will overturn the main argument of
the Theist for the divine existence, viz., that from design in the works
of creation. On this ground, therefore, he should be fairly met. Has he
been so met by the reasoning that has usually been employed to refute his
opinion? As a fair sample of it, I will here quote the leading points of
the argument, as given by one of the most popular and able theologians of
our country. "It is asserted by atheists," says Dr. Dwight, "that there
has been an eternal series of things. The absurdity of this assertion may
be shown in many ways."

"First. Each individual in a series is a unit. But every collection of
units, however great, is with intuitive certainty numerable, and,
therefore, cannot be infinite."

"Secondly. Every individual in the series (take for example a series of
men) had a beginning. But a collection of beings must, however long the
series, have had a beginning. This, likewise, is intuitively evident."

"Thirdly. It is justly observed by the learned and acute Dr. Bentley, that
in the supposed infinite series, as the number of individual men is
alleged to be infinite, the number of their eyes must have been twice, the
number of their fingers ten times, and the number of the hairs on their
heads many thousand times, as great as the number of men."

"Fourthly. It is also observed by the same excellent writer, that all
these generations of men were once present."--_Dwight's Theology_, vol.
ii. p. 24.

How is it possible that such reasoning should have satisfied logical and
philosophical minds? Would it not be equally good to disprove the
demonstrated principles of mathematics which relate to infinite
quantities? For in mathematics an infinite series of units is a familiar
phrase; and it is also common to speak of one infinite quantity as twice,
or ten times, or many thousand times, greater than another, and that, too,
in just such cases as the one referred to above.

True, mathematical infinites are in some respects different from
metaphysical infinites; but it is the former that belong to this argument,
since the supposed infinite succession of organic beings forms a
mathematical series.

An acute writer in our own country, however, has recently attempted to
show that "there can be no number actually infinite, and therefore no
infinite number of generations."[11] That the mathematician cannot
actually present before us the whole of an infinite series, is indeed most
certain; for such, power belongs only to an Infinite Being. But does the
fact that man's faculties are limited, prove that an arithmetical process
cannot be carried on from eternity to eternity? Because man cannot put
upon paper the series of numbers representing the miles in infinite space,
or the hours in infinite duration, is there, therefore, no such thing as
infinite space, or infinite duration? Certainly not, if this reasoning be
correct.

In spite, however, of such mathematical metaphysics, is it not an
intelligible statement of the atheist, when he says of any generation of
men and animals in past time, that there was another that preceded it and
unless you have matter-of-fact proof to the contrary, how will you
disprove this assertion? You may show him that practically he can never
exhibit a series, even of numbers, extending eternally backward; but he
may, in return, challenge you to put your finger upon the first link of
the chain of organic nature. If you attempt it, he will reply that other
links preceded the one you have named, and that, as far as you choose to
run backward, he can go farther; in other words, by the very supposition
which he makes, he excludes a beginning to organic nature, and, therefore,
all reasoning which assumes such a beginning is of no force against his
conclusions. If a series which may thus be extended indefinitely backward
be not infinite in a metaphysical sense, it is to common sense.

Let me not be thought to be an advocate in any sense for the unsupported
notion of an infinite series of organic beings. But the question is,
whether those who, in spite of common sense, have maintained this opinion,
have been fairly refuted by such metaphysical evasions as I have quoted.
The truth is, that, in order to end this dispute, the Theist needs to
bring forward at least one example in which the commencement of some race
of animals can be fairly pointed out; and I know not where such an example
can be found, save in the Bible and geology.

In the fifth place, the changing state of the world has been regarded as
incompatible with the world's eternity. This argument is thus stated by
Bishop Sumner: "If the universe itself is the first eternal being, its
existence is necessary, as metaphysicians speak; and it must be possessed
of all those qualities which are inseparable from necessary existence. Of
this nature are immutability and perfection. For change is the attribute
of imperfection, and imperfection is incompatible with that Being, which
is, as the hypothesis affirms, independent, and, therefore, can have no
source of imperfection. To suppose, therefore, of the first independent
Being, that it could have existed otherwise than it is, is no less
contrary to the idea of necessity, with which we set out, than to suppose
it not to exist at all."

This reasoning is not destitute of plausibility. For there is scarcely any
lesson more forcibly impressed on short-lived man than the mutability of
the world. And it is indeed true that change is its most striking
attribute. But when we look at the subject philosophically, we find that
all this mutability is consistent with the most perfect ultimate
stability; nay, that the change is essential to secure the stability.
Apart from what revelation and geology teach, these changes in nature form
cycles, which, like those in astronomy, are perfectly consistent with the
eternal permanence of the general system to which they belong. In the
motions of the heavenly bodies, a considerable amount of irregularity and
oscillation about a mean state does not tend to the ruin, but rather to
the preservation, of the system, provided the anomalies do not extend
beyond certain limits. It is just so with other changes that are going on
around us. All of them are, in fact, as much regulated by mathematical
laws as the perturbations of the heavenly bodies; although those laws are
more complicated and difficult to bring out in distinct formulae in the
former case than in the latter. Yet even in astronomy, it is not many
years since the mutual disturbances among the heavenly bodies were
supposed to be the certain precursors of ruin to the system. It was not
till the famous problem of the three bodies was solved, by the use of the
most refined mathematical analysis, that astronomers learnt the true
operation of those causes of disturbance among the heavenly bodies which
exist in their mutual attractions. It was then found that, so balanced are
they in their action, and so narrow their limits, that they can never
affect the stability of the system; or, rather, they secure that
stability. It is, indeed, true, that when changes in nature go on
increasing or decreasing in magnitude indefinitely, they clearly indicate
a beginning and an end to the system to which they belong. And it was on
this principle that the earlier astronomers predicted that the celestial
perturbations would ultimately bring the universe to a state of chaos.
They found, for instance, that the moon's orbit was decreasing in size,
and they inferred that, ultimately, that luminary must come to the earth.
But they now know it to be mathematically certain that, after a long
period, the diminution of the orbit will cease; it will begin to expand,
and go on expanding,-until the opposite point of oscillation is reached,
when it will again diminish; and in this manner, if God's will permit,
perform its eternal round. Just so it is with all the irregularities of
the solar system.

              "Yonder starry sphere
  Of planets, and of fixed, in all her wheels,
  Resembles nearest mazes intricate,
  Eccentric, intervolved, yet regular;
  Then most, when most irregular they seem."

And so it is with all the natural changes which we witness around us, and
with all which science shows us to have taken place on the globe,
excepting some which geology discloses, and perhaps one which astronomy
renders probable. Let us look at some of those changes which the argument
under consideration regards as inconsistent with the world's eternity.

Nearly all the changes in nature with which we are acquainted belong to
three classes,--the mechanical, the chemical, and the organic.
Astronomical changes are purely mechanical; and hence the ease with which
they may be calculated by mathematics. The universal system of death,
which reigns over all animals and plants, is the result of organic laws;
and it is this which probably gives to man the strongest impression of the
transient nature of sublunary things. But just consider the antagonist
agencies to this universal destroyer. I refer to the equally universal
system of reproduction, and to the law by which permanence of species is
secured. The consequence is, that, while every individual animal and plant
dies, the species survives. In the whole history of the animals and plants
now existing on the globe, only eight or ten certain examples are on
record in which a species has become extinct, and those are some large
birds, such as the dinornis and dodo, once inhabitants of the Isle of
Bourbon and New Zealand. Every one of the human family, every elephant,
every ox, every lion, &c., die, but man, as a species, still lives; and so
does the elephant, the ox, and the lion; and most obviously this is a law
of nature. How easy, then, for the atheist to evade the force of your
argument against the world's eternity, drawn from the ravages of death! He
has only to suppose the havoc of individuals by death always to have been
repaired by the equivalent operation of reproduction, and that these two
agencies have been balanced against each other from eternity; and how will
you prove this impossible, except by the absurd metaphysical arguments
already considered?

Atmospheric and aqueous changes often, and, indeed, generally, appear more
chaotic and destitute of a controlling force than any others in nature.
When the winds are let loose from their prison-house; when the heavens
become dark, and the clouds, rent by the lightnings, pour down their
contents, and the swollen torrents carry desolation down the mountain's
side and over the wide plain; when the ocean rolls in upon the land its
giant waves; when the tornado sweeps all before it, in rich tropical
regions; or when the sirocco sends its hot blast, loaded with sand, over
the devoted surface,--in all these cases, how difficult for us to conceive
that all this uproar among the elements is limited and controlled by laws
as fixed and unalterable as those which regulate the heavenly bodies!
Nevertheless, it must be so; and although the winds and the waters seem to
be rioting at their pleasure, there are, in fact, at work antagonist
agencies; which will confine their wild war to a narrow field, and soon
bring them again into peaceful submission. For such has always been the
case, and the limits of their irregularities are no wider now than six
thousand years ago. In other words, the repressing agency has always been
superior to the destroying force, when the latter has risen to a certain
limit; and I doubt not but the profounder mathematics of angelic minds
might as easily calculate the anomalies and perturbations of winds and
waves as the formulas of La Place can determine those of the solar system.
And if such constancy has existed for six thousand years in meteorological
changes,--of all others in nature apparently the most irregular,--why, the
atheist will ask, may not that constancy have been eternal? And with equal
reason may he ask the same in respect to all changes resulting from
mechanical, chemical, and organic laws, which we witness in nature, except
those which come within the province of geology, and even concerning some
of those; and what changes in the material world do not result, directly
or remotely, from one or two, or all of these laws? Yet, in regard to all
these changes, there is no inconsistency in supposing them to have gone on
in an eternal series; and hence they furnish no proof of the non-eternity
of the world.

In the seventh and last place, the recent origin of society, as shown by
historical monuments, is regarded as evidence of the recent origin of the
world. This argument was well understood as long ago as the days of
Lucretius, who states it very clearly in the oft-quoted lines,--

  "Si nulla fuit genitalis origo,
  Terrarum et coeli, semperque eterna fuit,
  Cur, supra bellum Thebanum et funera Trojae,
  Non alias alii quoque res cecinere poetae?"

This argument, though it has been met by a plausible reply, is certainly
of great importance in its bearing upon the recent origin of the human
race, which, as we shall shortly see, is a point of much interest. But it
is obvious that it proves nothing respecting the origin of matter, since
this might have had an eternal existence before man was placed upon it. We
need not, therefore, be delayed by its discussion.

Such is a fair summary, as I believe, of the arguments usually adduced,
aside from the Bible and geology, to prove the non-eternity of the world.
I am not prepared to say that they amount to nothing; but I do believe
that they perplex, rather than convince, and that some of them are mere
metaphysical quibbles.

They do not produce that instantaneous conviction which most of the
arguments of natural theology force upon the mind; and it is easy to see
how a man of a sceptical turn should rise from their examination entirely
unaffected, or affected unfavorably. Let us now, therefore, turn to
geology, and inquire whether its archives will afford us any clearer light
upon the subject.

And here we must confess, at the outset, that geology furnishes us no more
evidence than the other sciences of the creation of the matter of the
universe out of nothing. But it does furnish us with examples of such
modifications of matter as could be effected only by a Deity. Suppose,
then, we should be obliged to acknowledge to the atheist, that we yield to
him the point of matter's eternal existence, if he pleases, because we can
find nowhere in nature decisive evidence of its creation, and then take
our stand upon the arrangements and metamorphoses of matter. Or, rather,
suppose we say to him, that we shall not contend with him as to the origin
of matter, but challenge him to explain, if he can, without a Deity, its
modifications, as taught by geology. If that science does disclose to us
such changes on the globe as no power and wisdom but those of an infinite
God could produce, then of what consequence is it, so far as religion is
concerned, whether we can, or cannot, demonstrate the first creation of
matter? I can conceive of no religious truth that would be unfavorably
affected, though we should admit that this point cannot be settled. Let
us, then, at least for the sake of argument, admit that it cannot be, and
proceed to inquire whether, aside from this point, geology does not teach
us all that is necessary to establish the most perfect system of Theism. I
shall select four examples from that science, each of which is independent
of the others in its bearing upon the subject, since in this way the
argument will become cumulative; and if some are not satisfied with one
example, the others may produce conviction.

In the first place, geology teaches that the time has been when the earth
existed as a molten mass of matter, and, therefore, all the animals and
plants now existing upon its surface, and all those buried in its rocky
strata, must have had a beginning, or have been created. I should be
sustained by many probabilities, were I to go farther, and maintain that
the time was when the globe existed in a gaseous state--an opinion very
widely adopted by able philosophers of the present day. But as this view
is more hypothetical than my first position, which makes the earth a
liquid mass, and as nothing would be gained to the argument by supposing
it in a gaseous state, I shall not press that point. That it was once in a
state of fusion is probable from the very great heat still remaining in
its interior. But more direct proof of this results from the facts, now
admitted by almost all geologists, that the unstratified rocks have all
been melted, and that the stratified class have all, or nearly all, been
the result of disintegration and abrasion of the unstratified masses. A
striking confirmation of this opinion is the spheroidal figure of the
earth,--a figure precisely such as the globe would have assumed in
consequence of rotation, had it been in a fluid state. In fine, so many
and so decisive are the facts which point to the original igneous fluidity
of the globe, that no competent judge thinks of doubting that all the
matter of which it is composed, certainly its crust, has some time or
other been in that state. It is, however, the opinion of some geologists
of distinction, that the whole of it was not in fusion at the same time,
and that its different portions have passed successively through the
furnace. But this view of the subject scarcely affects my argument, since
at whatever period the fusion of any part took place, the destruction of
organic life, if it existed, must have been the consequence. The essential
thing is, to show that such was once the state of the earth that animals
and plants could not have existed on it. For if such was the case, their
creation must have been a subsequent operation; and if this did not
require an infinite Being to accomplish it, no result in nature would
demand his agency.

To prove the original igneous fluidity of the globe, we might have adopted
another course of argument. All will admit that the present temperature of
the interior of the earth is far more elevated than that of the
surrounding planetary spaces. The inevitable result is, from the known
laws of heat, that its radiation into the celestial spaces is constantly
going on, and consequently the earth's temperature is being constantly
lowered. Who can tell us now when this process of refrigeration commenced?
If no one, then there must have been a time when the heat was great enough
to fuse the whole globe. And the facts already stated confirm such an
inference. For all the efforts hitherto made to show that the earth may be
passing through regions of various temperatures, in its march around the
centre of centres, amount to nothing more than dreamy conjecture.

In order to feel the force of the argument, sustained by so many facts in
geology, just picture to yourselves this vast globe as a mass of liquid
fire. From such a world every thing organic must have been excluded, and
every thing combustible consumed, and only such combinations of matter
have existed as incandescent heat could not decompose. Compare such a
world with that now teeming with life, and beauty, and glory, which we
inhabit; and say, must not the transition to its present condition have
demanded the exercise of infinite power, infinite wisdom, and infinite
benevolence? You can, indeed, conceive how a solid crust might have formed
over the vast fiery ocean, by the simple radiation of heat; and then, too,
by natural laws, might the vapors have been condensed into oceans and
clouds, while volcanic force within might have lifted up our continents
and mountains above the flood. But what a picture of desolation and ruin
would such a world present, while unadorned with vegetation, and with no
voice of life to break the stillness of universal death! Here is, then,
the precise point where we need the interference of a Deity. Admit, if you
please, that atheism, with its eternal matter and the laws of nature at
command, might form a world without inhabitants. Who does not see, that to
bestow organization, and life, and instinct, to say nothing of intellect,
upon brute matter, is the loftiest prerogative of Jehovah? especially to
fill so vast a world as ours with its teeming millions, exhibiting ten
thousand diversities of size, form, and structure.

Let the atheist then exult in the belief of an eternal world. Geology
shows him that it must have been without inhabitants; and that, therefore,
the most wonderful part of the creation still remains to be accounted for;
while physiology teaches that the interference of an infinite Deity can
alone solve the enigma.

My second example from geology to disprove the notion of an eternal series
of animals and plants on the globe, is derived from the history of organic
remains. That history shows us clearly, that the earth, since its
creation, has been the seat of several distinct economies of life, each
occupying long periods, and successively passing away. During each of
these periods, distinct groups of animals and plants have occupied the
earth, the air, and the waters. Each successive group has been entirely
distinct from that which preceded it, though each group was exactly
adapted to the existing state of the climate and the food provided; so
that, had the different groups changed places with one another, they must
have perished, because their constitutions were adapted only to the state
of things during the period in which they actually lived. A distinguished
naturalist has recently declared that "he has discovered, in surveying the
entire series of fossil animal remains, five great groups, so completely
independent that no species whatever is found in more than one of
them."--_Deshayes._

Including the existing races, this would give us six entirely distinct
groups of organic beings that have lived in succession upon this globe
since it became a habitable world. But even if it should be found that a
few species are common to adjoining groups, the great truth would still
remain, that the different groups were too much unlike to be
contemporaries, and that consequently a new creation must have taken place
whenever each new group commenced its course.

It is probable the earth has changed its inhabitants more than the six
times that have been mentioned; some think as many as twelve times. But a
larger number cannot yet be proved so clearly; and could they be, they
would add nothing to this argument; for it rests mainly on the fact that
this change of organic life has even once been complete. We may, however,
very safely assume that the present animals and plants are the sixth group
that have occupied the globe.[12]

These facts being admitted, and who does not see the necessity of divine
interference, whenever one race of animals and plants passed from the
earth in order to repeople it? It is not difficult to conceive how
volcanic fires, or aqueous inundations, may have carried universal
destruction over the globe, and bereft it of inhabitants. But where, save
in the fiat of an infinite Deity, is the power that can make this universe
of death teem again with life and beauty? In the powerful language of Dr.
Chalmers, we may inquire, "Is there aught in the rude and boisterous play
of a great physical catastrophe that can germinate those exquisite
structures, which, during our yet undisturbed economy, have been
transmitted in pacific succession to the present day? What is there in the
rush, and turbulence, and mighty clamor of such great elements, of ocean
heaved from its old resting-place, and lifting its billows above the Alps
and the Andes of a former continent,--what is there in this to charm into
being the embryo of an infant family, wherewith to stock and to repeople a
now desolate world? We see in the sweeping energy and uproar of this
elemental war enough to account for the disappearance of all the old
generations, but nothing that might cradle any new generations into
existence, so as to have effloresced on ocean's deserted bed the life and
loveliness which are now before our eyes. At no juncture, we apprehend, in
the history of the world, is the interposition of the Deity more manifest
than at this; nor can we better account for so goodly a creation emerging
again into new forms of animation and beauty from the wreck of the old
one, than that the spirit of God moved on the face of chaos, and that
nature, turned by the last catastrophe into a wilderness, was again
repeopled at the utterance of his word."

Sir Isaac Newton has said, that "the growth of new systems out of old
ones, without the mediation of a divine power, seems to me apparently
absurd." He seems in this passage to have referred only to the
arrangements of matter, "with respect to size, figure, proportions, and
properties," and not to the principle of life, of instinct, or of
intellect. But when the latter are taken into the account, it must be
superlatively absurd to suppose new systems can grow out of old ones by
merely natural operations. He, indeed, who can bring himself to believe,
with a certain writer, that "the instincts of animals are nothing more
than inert and passive attractions, derived from the power of sensation,
and the instinctive operations of animals nothing more than
crystallizations produced through the agency of that power,"--such a man
could probably easily persuade himself that, by the help of galvanism,
animals and plants might be the result of natural operations. Such
doctrines, however, we shall examine in another lecture.

My third example from geology, showing the non-eternity of the present
condition of the globe, is the fact of the disappearance of several large
species of animals since the commencement of the most recent or alluvial
geological period. Certain large pachydermatous and other animals, such as
the fossil elephant, the mastodon, the megatherium, the mylodon, the
megalonyx, the glyptodon, the fossil horse, ox, deer, &c., also nine or
ten species of huge birds--the dinornis, the palapteryx, aptornis,
notornis, and nestor of New Zealand, the dodo of Mauritius and Bourbon,
and the pezohaps or solitaire of Rodriguez,--have ceased to exist since
the tertiary period; some of them--the birds, for instance--since man's
creation. Now, if any important species of animals from time to time
disappear from any system of organic life, it shows a tendency to ruin in
that system; for such is the intimate dependence of different beings upon
one another, that you cannot blot out one, certainly not a large number,
without disturbing the healthy balance between the whole, and probably
bringing the whole to ultimate ruin. At any rate, if several species die
out by natural processes, no reason can be given why others should not, in
like manner, disappear. And to prove that any organic system shows a
tendency to ruin is to show that it had a beginning.

My third example from geology, demonstrating the special interference of
the Deity in the affairs of this world, is the fact of the comparatively
recent commencement of the human race. That man was among the very last of
the animals created is made certain by the fact that his remains are found
only in the highest part of alluvium. This is rarely more than one hundred
feet in thickness, while the other fossiliferous strata, lying beneath the
alluvium, are six miles thick.

Hence man was not in existence during all the period in which these six
miles of strata were in a course of deposition, and he has existed only
during the comparatively short period in which the one hundred feet of
alluvium have been formed; nay, during only a small part of the alluvial
period. His bones, having the same chemical composition as the bones of
other animals, are no more liable to decay; and, therefore, had he lived
and died in any of the periods preceding the alluvial, his bones must have
been mixed with those of other animals belonging to those periods. But
they are not thus found in a single well-authenticated instance, and,
therefore, his existence has been limited to the alluvial period. Hence he
must have been created and placed upon the globe--such is the testimony of
geology--during the latter part of the alluvial period.

I might include in this example nearly all the other species of existing
animals and plants, since it is only a very few of these that are found
fossil, and such species are limited to the tertiary strata. But since
this might make some confusion in the argument, and since man is
confessedly at the head of the existing creation, I prefer to let his case
stand out alone, and to regard it _instar omnium_.

Here, then, we have a case in which geology can lay her finger upon the
precise epoch, in the revolutions of our globe, in which the most
complicated, perfect, and exalted being that ever dwelt upon its surface
first began to be. It was not the commencement of a mere zoophyte, or
cryptogamean plant, in which we see but little superiority to unorganized
matter, except in their possession of a low degree of vitality. But we
have a being complicated enough to contain a million of parts, endowed
with the two great attributes of life, sensibility and contractility, in
the highest degree, and, above all, possessing intellect and moral powers
far more wonderful than organization and animal life.

As to the period when the creation of such a being, by the most
astonishing of all miracles, took place, I believe there is no diversity
of opinion. At least, all agree that it was very recent; nay, although
geology can rarely give chronological dates, but only a succession of
events, she is able to say, from the monuments she deciphers, that man
cannot have occupied the globe more than six thousand years.

Now, if it was difficult to conceive how successive races of the inferior
animals and plants could have originated in the laws of nature, without
the special interference of the Deity, that difficulty increases in a
rapid ratio as we ascend on the scale of organization and intellect, and
attempt in the same manner to account for the origin of man without the
miraculous agency of Deity. The thorough-going materialist, however, does
not shrink from the effort. "Thought," says Bory de St. Vincent, "being
the necessary result of a certain kind of organization, wherever this
order is established, thought is necessarily derived from it; and it is no
more possible for the molecules of matter, arranged in a certain manner,
not to produce thought, than for brass, when smitten, not to return a
sound, or for creatures formed by this matter, after such and such laws,
not to walk, not to breathe, not to reproduce; in a word, not to exercise
any of the faculties which result from their peculiar mechanism of
organization."--Dict. Clas. _D. Hist. Nat._ art. _Matiere_.

This may seem, upon a superficial view, to be settling this matter at
once. But it merely shifts the difficulty from one part of the subject to
another. Admitting the premises of the materialist to be correct, it does
indeed show us the proximate cause of thought. But the mind immediately
inquires how a certain organization became possessed of such wonderful
power. Is it inherent in matter, or is it a power communicated to
organization by a supreme Being? If the latter, it is just what the
Theist contends for; if the former, then there is just as much necessity
for the original interposition of the Deity, in order to give matter such
an astonishing power, as there is, on the theory of the immaterialist, to
impart a spiritual and immortal principle to matter. The materialist will,
indeed, say that matter has possessed this power from eternity. But this
supposition, evidently absurd, does in fact invest matter with the
attributes of Deity; since those attributes, and those alone, are
sufficient to account for the phenomena. And besides, how is the fact to
be explained that this power was not exerted till six thousand years ago?

But with the exception of the materialist, I am sure that most reasoning
minds will feel as if the creation of the human family was one of the most
stupendous, perhaps the most stupendous, exercise of infinite power and
wisdom which the universe exhibits. If any change whatever demands a Deity
for its accomplishment, it must be this; and, therefore, geology presents,
in the case of man, the most striking example which nature could furnish
of a beginning of organic and intellectual life on the globe. It shows us
that there was a time, and that not remote, when the first link of the
curious chain of the human family, now constantly lengthening by
inflexible laws, was created.

I might now refer to certain recent discoveries in astronomy, which have
the same bearing upon the general argument as the examples that have been
quoted from geology, although less decisive. After the famous
demonstration of the eternity of the universe by La Grange, provided the
present laws of gravity alone control it, we could hardly expect that, so
soon, even astronomy would furnish proof of a disturbing cause, which must
ultimately and inevitably bring ruin among the heavenly bodies, if some
counteracting agency be not exerted. Yet such a source of derangement
exists in the supposed medium extending through all space, which has
already shown its retarding influence upon Enke's, Biela's, and Halley's
comets. And who can say that some of the vast periods which geology
discloses may not have been commensurate with those intervening between
catastrophes among the heavenly bodies as the result of the universal
resisting ether? At present, however, we can say only that we know such
long periods have existed in geology, and probably in astronomy. And their
mere existence is fatal to the idea of the eternity of the world in its
present state.

If, then, geology can clearly demonstrate the present state of the globe
to have had a beginning; if she can show us the period, by fair induction,
when one liquid, fiery ocean enveloped the whole earth; if she can show us
five or six economies of organic life successively flourishing and passing
away; if she can trace man back to his origin at a comparatively recent
date; if, in fact, she can show us that the most important operations on
the globe, and the most complicated and exalted organic races, had a
beginning; and if astronomy affords glimpses of similar changes,--then why
may we not safely leave the subject of the world's eternity an undecided
question, consistently with the most perfect Theism? If we can prove that
the power, the wisdom, and the benevolence of the Deity have again and
again interfered with the regular sequence of nature's operations, and
introduced new conditions and new and more perfect beings, by using the
matter already in existence, what though we cannot, by the light of
science, run back to the first production of matter itself? What though
the atheist should here be allowed to maintain his favorite theory that
matter never had a beginning? What doctrine of natural religion is
thereby unfavorably affected, if we can only show the interposition of the
Deity in all of matter's important modifications? Such an admission would
not prove matter to be eternal, but only that science has not yet placed
within the reach of man the means of proving its non-eternity. And really,
such an admission would be far more favorable to the cause of truth than
to rely, as theologians have done, on metaphysical subtilties to prove
that matter had a beginning. For the sceptical mind will not merely remain
unconvinced by such arguments, but be very apt to draw the sweeping
inference that all the doctrines of natural and revealed religion rest on
similar dreamy abstractions.

But is natural theology in fact destitute of all satisfactory proof that
the matter of the universe had a beginning? Such proof, it seems to me,
she will seek in vain in the wide fields of physical and mathematical
science; and the solution of the question which metaphysics offers, as we
have seen, does not satisfy. But there are sources of evidence on this
point which seem to me of the most satisfactory kind.

In the first place, we may derive from science some presumptive proof of a
commencement of the matter of the universe. The fact that the organic
races on the globe had a beginning affords such proof. For matter could
not have originated itself; nor is there any proof of its eternal
existence; and to assume that it did eternally exist, without proof, is
far more unphilosophical than to admit its origination in the divine will.
For since God has complete control over matter, it is probable that he
created it with such properties as he wished it to possess. And
furthermore, to the power and wisdom that could set in motion the heavenly
bodies, and create and adapt existing organisms out of preexistent matter,
we can assign no limits, and hence conclude them to be infinite.
Therefore they are sufficient to the production of matter, which could not
have demanded more than infinite wisdom and power.

Now, in confirmation of these presumptions, we may appeal to the Bible. It
is true that writers have been accustomed to consider it contrary to sound
logic to draw from revelation any support or illustrations of natural
religion. But why should an historical fact possess less value, if
transmitted to us through the channel of sacred, rather than profane,
writers? Now, it would be regarded as perfectly good reasoning to seize
upon any facts stated by heathen philosophers and historians, illustrative
of natural religion. But the Scriptures carry with them, to say the least,
quite as strong evidence of their authenticity and claims to be credited,
as any ancient uninspired writer. We place them on the same ground as any
other history, and demand for them only that they should be believed so
far as we have testimony to their authenticity. If a man, after careful
examination of their evidences, comes to the conclusion that they are mere
fables, then to him their testimony is of no value to prove or illustrate
any truth of natural religion. But if he is convinced that they are worthy
of credence, then their statements may decide a point about which the
light of nature leaves him in uncertainty. In this way the Bible is used
by the natural theologian, just as he would employ any curious object in
nature--say, the human hand, or the eye. These organs exist, and their
mechanism is to be accounted for either with or without a God. And so the
Bible exists, and its contents are to be accounted for; and if they
clearly evince the agency of a Deity, then we may use them, just as we
would use the eye or the hand, to prove or illustrate important truths in
natural theology.

But the testimony of the Bible, as to the origin of the world, is most
explicit and decided. It declares that _in the beginning God created the
heavens and the earth; and that the worlds were formed by the word of God,
so that the things which are seen were not made of things which do
appear_. The obvious meaning of this latter passage is, that the material
universe was created out of nothing. ([Greek: ta me phainomena].) How much
more satisfactory this simple and consistent statement, than a volume of
abstract argument to prove the non-eternity of the world!

Now, if the testimony of the Scriptures on all other points has been found
correct, why should we not receive with unhesitating credence, and even
with joy, the sublime announcement with which that volume opens? True, we
are not compelled to admit this statement, in order to save Theism from
refutation, because geology shows us the commencement of several economies
on the globe, which point us to a divine Author. But the doctrine of
matter's creation out of nothing gives a desirable completeness to the
system.

In looking back upon the subject, which has thus been discussed, too
briefly for its merits, but too prolixly for your patience, several
important inferences force themselves upon our attention.

And first, it furnishes a satisfactory reply to a well-known objection,
otherwise unanswerable, against the argument from design in nature to
prove the existence of a Deity. We present ten thousand examples of
exquisite design and adaptation in nature to the atheist. He admits them
all; but says, it was always so, and therefore requires no other Deity but
the power eternally inherent in nature. At your metaphysical replies to
his objections he laughs; but when you take him back on geological wings,
and bid him gaze on man, just springing, with his lofty powers, from the
plastic hands of his Creator, and then, still earlier, you point him to
system after system of organic life starting up in glorious variety and
beauty on the changing earth, and even still nearer the birth of time, you
show him the globe, a glowing ocean of fire, swept of all organic life, he
is forced to exclaim, "A God! a personal God! an infinitely wise and
powerful God!" What though he still clings to the notion of matter's
eternity? you have forced him to see the hand of Deity in its wonderful
arrangements and metamorphoses; the hand of such a Deity as might have
brought it into existence in a moment, by the word of his power.[13]

Secondly. The subject presents us with a new argument for the existence of
a God, or rather a satisfactory modification of the argument from design.
In that argument, as derived from other sciences, the Theist finds,
indeed, multiplied and beautiful proofs of adaptation and apparent design;
but then he cannot, as already observed, from those sciences derive proof
of the commencement either of matter or its arrangements; and then, too,
the sceptic, with plausible ingenuity, can take his stand upon law as the
efficient agent in nature's movements and harmonies. But when geology
shows us, not the commencement of matter, but of organism, and presents us
with full systems of animals and plants springing out of inorganic
elements, where is the law that exhibits even a tendency to such results?
Nothing can explain them but the law of miracles; that is, creation by
divine interposition. Thus is the idea of a Deity forced nakedly upon us,
as the only possible solution of the enigmas of creation. The
metaphysical Theist must waste half his strength in battling the
questions about the beginning of matter, and the laws of matter; nor can
he ever entirely dislodge the enemy from these strongholds of atheism. But
the geological Theist takes us at once into a field where work has been
done, which neither eternal law, nor eternal matter, but an infinite
personal Deity only, could accomplish.

In conclusion, I would merely refer to the interesting fact, that geology
should prove almost the only science that presents us with exigencies
demanding the interposition of creating power. And yet, up to the present
time, geology has been looked upon by many Christian writers with jealous
eye, because it was supposed to teach the world's eternity, and so to
account for natural changes by catastrophes and the gradual operation of
existing agencies, as to render a Deity unnecessary, either for the
creation or regulation of the world. One of these writers has even most
uncharitably and unreasonably said, that "the mineral geology, considered
as a science, can do as well without God (though in a question concerning
the origin of the earth) as Lucretius did."--Granville Penn, _Comparative
Estimate_, &c.--How much ground there is for such an allegation, let the
developments made in this lecture answer. Surely, in this case, geology
has followed the directions of the Oriental poet:--

  "Learn from yon Orient shell to love thy foe,
  And strew with pearls the hand that brings thee woe;
  Free, like yon rock, from base, vindictive pride,
  Emblaze with gems the wrist that rends thy side.
  Mark where yon tree rewards the stony shower
  With fruit nectareous or the balmy flower.
  All nature calls aloud,--'Shall man do less
  Than heal the smiter, and the railer bless?'"

Misunderstood or misinterpreted though this science has been, she now
offers her aid to fortify some of the weakest outposts of religion. And
thus shall it ever be with all true science. Twin sister of natural and
revealed religion, and of heavenly birth, she will never belie her
celestial origin, nor cease to sympathize with all that emanates from the
same pure home. Human ignorance and prejudice may for a time seem to have
divorced what God has joined together. But human ignorance and prejudice
shall at length pass away, and then science and religion shall be seen
blending their parti- rays into one beautiful bow of light, linking
heaven to earth and earth to heaven.




LECTURE VI.

GEOLOGICAL PROOFS OF THE DIVINE BENEVOLENCE.


The subject of the present lecture is the divine benevolence, as taught by
geology. But what connection, it will be asked, can there be between the
history of rocks and the benevolence of God? Do not the leading points of
that history consist of terrible catastrophes, aqueous or igneous, by
which the crust of the earth has been dislocated and upheaved, mountains
lifted up and overturned, the dry land inundated, now by scorching lava,
and now by the ocean, sweeping from its face all organic life, and
entombing its inhabitants in a stony grave? Who can find the traces of
benevolence in the midst of such desolation and death? Is it not the very
place where the objector would find arguments to prove the malevolence,
certainly the vindictive justice, of the Deity?

This, I am aware, is a not unnatural _prima facie_ view of this subject.
But it is a false one. Geology does furnish some very striking evidence of
divine benevolence; and if I can show this, and from so unpromising a
field gather decisive arguments on this subject, they will be so much
clear gain to the cause of Theism. This is what, therefore, I shall now
attempt to do.

_In the first place, I derive an argument for the divine benevolence from
the manner in which soils are formed by the disintegration and
decomposition of rocks._

Chemical analysis shows us that the mineral constituents of rocks are
essentially the same as those of soils; and that the latter differ from
the former, in a pulverized state, only in containing animal and vegetable
matter. Hence we cannot doubt but the soils originated from the rocks.
And, in fact, the process of their production is continually going on
under our eyes. Wherever the rocks are exposed to atmospheric agencies,
they are seen to crumble down; and, in fact, most of them, having been
long exposed, are now covered with a deposit of their own ruins, forming a
soil over them. This process is in part decomposition and in part
disintegration; and as we look upon rocks thus wasting away, we are apt to
be impressed with the idea that it is an instance of decay in nature's
works, which, instead of indicating benevolence, can hardly be reconciled
with divine wisdom. But when we learn that this is the principal mode in
which soils are produced, that without it vegetation could not be
sustained, and that a world like ours without plants must also be without
animals, this apparent ruin puts on the aspect of benevolence and wise
design.

_My second argument in proof of the divine benevolence is derived from the
disturbed, broken, and overturned condition of the earth's crust._

To the casual observer, the rocks have the appearance of being lifted up,
shattered, and overturned. But it is only the geologist who knows the vast
extent of this disturbance. He never finds crystalline, non-fossiliferous
rocks, which have not been more or less removed from their original
position; and usually he finds them to have been thrown up by some
powerful agency into almost every possible position. The older
fossiliferous strata exhibit almost equal evidence of the operation of a
powerful disturbing force, though sometimes found in their original
horizontal position. The newer rocks have experienced less of this
agency, though but few of them have not been elevated or dislocated.
Mountainous countries exhibit this action most strikingly. There it is
shown sometimes on a magnificent scale. Entire mountains in the Alps, for
instance, appear not only to have been lifted up from the ocean's depths,
but to have been actually thrown over, so as to bring the lowest and
oldest rocks at the top of the series. The extensive range of mountains in
this country, commencing in Canada, and embracing the Green Mountains of
Vermont, the Highlands of New York, and most of the Alleghany chain as far
as Alabama, a distance of some twelve hundred miles, has also been lifted
up, and some of the strata, by a lateral force, folded together, and then
thrown over, so as now to occupy an inverted position. Let us now see
wherein this agency exhibits benevolence.

If these strata had remained horizontal, as they were originally
deposited, it is obvious that all the valuable ores, minerals, and rocks,
which man could not have discovered by direct excavation, must have
remained forever unknown to him. Now, man has very seldom penetrated the
rocks below the depth of half a mile, and rarely so deep as that; whereas,
by the elevations, dislocations, and overturnings that have been
described, he obtains access to all deposits of useful substances that lie
within fifteen or twenty miles of the surface; and many are thus probably
brought to light from a greater depth. He is indebted, then, to this
disturbing agency for nearly all the useful metals, coal, rock salt,
marble, gypsum, and other useful minerals; and when we consider how
necessary these substances are to civilized society, who will doubt that
it was a striking act of benevolence which thus introduced disturbance,
dislocation, and apparent ruin into the earth's crust?

Another decided advantage resulting from this disturbing agency is the
formation of valleys.

If we suppose the strata spread uniformly over the earth's entire surface,
then the ocean must envelop the whole globe. But, admitting such
interruptions in the strata to exist as would leave cavities, where the
waters might be gathered together into one place, and the dry land appear,
still that dry land must form only an unbroken level. Streams of water
could not exist on such a continent, because they depend upon inequalities
of surface; and whatever water existed must have formed only stagnant
ponds, and the morasses which would be the consequence would load the air
with miasms fatal to life; so that we may safely pronounce the world
uninhabitable by natures adapted to the present earth. But such,
essentially, must have been the state of things, had not internal forces
elevated and fractured the earth's crust. For that was the origin of most
of our valleys--of all the larger valleys, indeed, which checker the
surface of primary countries. Most of them have been modified by
subsequent agencies; but their leading features, their outlines, have been
the result of those internal disturbances which spread desolation over the
surface. We are apt to look upon such an agency as an exhibition of
retributive justice, rather than of benevolence. And yet that admirable
system for the circulation of water, whereby the rain that falls upon the
surface is conveyed to the ocean, whence it is returned by evaporation,
depends upon it. It imparts, to all organic nature, life, health, and
activity; and had it not thus ridged up the surface, stagnation and death
must have reigned over all the earth. In the unhealthiness of low, flat
countries, at present, we see the terrible condition of things in a world
without valleys. Can we doubt, then, that it was the hand of benevolence
that drove the ploughshare of ruin through the earth's crust, and ridged
up its surface into a thousand fantastic forms?

It will more deeply impress us with this benevolence to remember that most
of the sublime and the beautiful in the scenery of a country depends upon
this disturbing agency. Beautiful as vegetable nature is, how tame is a
landscape where only a dead level is covered with it, and no swelling
hills, or jutting rocks, or murmuring waters, relieve the monotonous
scene! And how does the interest increase with the wildness and ruggedness
of the surface, and reach its maximum only where the disturbance and
dislocation have been most violent!

Some may, perhaps, doubt whether it can have been one of the objects of
divine benevolence and wisdom, in arranging the surface of this world, so
to construct and adorn it as to gratify a taste for fine scenery. But I
cannot doubt it. I see not else why nature every where is fitted up in a
lavish manner with all the elements of the sublime and beautiful, nor why
there are powers in the human soul so intensely gratified in contact with
those elements, unless they were expressly adapted for one another by the
Creator. Surely natural scenery does afford to the unsophisticated soul
one of the richest and purest sources of enjoyment to be found on earth.
If this be doubted by any one, it must be because he has never been placed
in circumstances to call into exercise his natural love of the beautiful
and the sublime in creation. Let me persuade such a one, at least in
imagination, to break away from the slavish routine of business or
pleasure, and in the height of balmy summer to accompany me to a few
spots, where his soul will swell with new and strong emotions, if his
natural sensibilities to the grand and beautiful have not become
thoroughly dead within him.

We might profitably pause for a moment at this enchanting season of the
year, (June,) and look abroad from that gentle elevation on which we
dwell, now all mantled over with a flowery carpet, wafting its balmy odors
into our studies. Can any thing be more delightful than the waving
forests, with their dense and deep green foliage, interspersed with grassy
and sunny fields and murmuring streamlets, which spread all around us? How
rich the graceful <DW72>s of yonder distant mountains, which bound the
Connecticut on either side! How imposing Mount Sugar Loaf on the north,
with its red-belted and green-tufted crown, and Mettawampe too, with its
rocky terraces on the one side, and its broad <DW72>s of unbroken forest on
the other! Especially, how beautifully and even majestically does the
indented summit of Mount Holyoke repose against the summer sky! What
sunrises and sunsets do we here witness, and what a multitude of
permutations and combinations pass before us during the day, as we watch
from hour to hour one of the loveliest landscapes of New England!

Let us now turn our steps to that huge pile of mountains called the White
Hills of New Hampshire. We will approach them through the valley of the
Saco River, and at the distance of thirty miles they will be seen looming
up in the horizon, with the clouds reposing beneath their naked heads. As
the observer approaches them, the sides of the valley will gradually close
in upon him, and rise higher and higher, until he will find their naked
granitic summits almost jutting over his path, to the height of several
thousand feet, seeming to form the very battlements of heaven. Now and
then will he see the cataract leaping hundreds of feet down their sides,
and the naked path of some recent landslip, which carried death and
desolation in its track. From this deep and wild chasm he will at length
emerge, and climb the vast ridge, until he has seen the forest trees
dwindle, and at length disappear; and standing upon the naked summit,
immensity seems stretched out before him. But he has not yet reached the
highest point; and far in the distance, and far above him, Mount
Washington seems to repose in awful majesty against the heavens. Turning
his course thither, he follows the narrow and naked ridge over one peak
after another, first rising upon Mount Pleasant, then Mount Franklin, and
then Mount Monroe, each lifting him higher, and making the sea of
mountains around him more wide and billowy, and the yawning gulfs on
either side more profound and awful, so that every moment his interest
deepens, and reaches not its climax till he stands upon Mount Washington,
when the vast panorama is completed, and the world seems spread out at his
feet. Yet it does not seem to be a peopled world, for no mighty city lies
beneath him. Indeed, were it there, he would pass it almost unnoticed. For
why should he regard so small an object as a city, when the world is
before him?--a world of mountains, bearing the impress of God's own hand,
standing in solitary grandeur, just as he piled them up in primeval ages,
and stretching away on every side as far as the eye can reach. On that
pinnacle of the northern regions no sound of man or beast breaks in upon
the awful stillness which reigns there, and which seems to bring the soul
into near communion with the Deity. It is, indeed, the impressive Sabbath
of nature; and the soul feels a delightful awe, which can never be
forgotten. Gladly would it linger there for hours, and converse with the
mighty and the holy thoughts which come crowding into it; and it is only
when the man looks at the rapidly declining sun that he is roused from his
revery and commences his descending march.

Let such a man next accompany me to Niagara. We will pass by all minor
cataracts, and place ourselves at once on the margin of one that knows no
rival. Let not the man take a hasty glance, and in disappointment conclude
that he shall find no interest and no sublimity there. Let him go to the
edge of the precipice, and watch the deep waters as they roll over, and,
changing their sea-green brightness for a fleecy white, pour down upon the
rocks beneath, and dash back again in spray high in the air. Let him go to
the foot of the sheet, and look upward till the cataract swells into its
proper size. Let him, on the Canada shore, take in the whole breadth of
the cataract at once; and as he stands musing, let him listen to the deep
thunderings of the falling sheet. Let him go to Table Rock, and creep
forward to its jutting edge, and gaze steadily into the foaming and
eddying waters so far beneath him, until his nerves thrill and vibrate,
and he involuntarily shrinks back, exclaiming,--

                      "How dreadful
  And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low!
                       I'll look no more,
  Lest my brain turn."

Next, let him stand upon that rock till the sun approaches so near the
western horizon that a glorious bow, forming an almost entire circle on
the cataract and the spray, shall clothe the scene with unearthly beauty,
and, in connection with the emerald green of the waters, give it a
brilliancy fully equal to its sublimity. And finally, if he would add the
emotions of moral to natural sublimity, let him follow to Ontario, the
deep gulf through which all these waters flow, and, gathering up the
evidence, which he will find too strong to resist, that they themselves
have worn that gulf backward seven miles, let him try the rules of
geological arithmetic to see if he can reach the period of its
commencement. Surely, when he reviews the emotions of that day, he will
never again doubt that the magnificent scenery of our world is the result
of benevolent design on the part of the Creator.

If, now, we cross the Atlantic, we shall easily find scenes of natural
beauty and sublimity, that have long elicited the wonder and delight of
thousands of genuine taste. Shall we turn our steps first to the valleys
and mountains of Wales? To an American eye, indeed, they lack one
important feature, in being so destitute of trees. But then their wild
aspect, their ragged and rocky outlines, present a picture of the
sublimity of desolation rarely equalled. And as you ascend the
mountains,--Snowdon, for instance, the highest of them all,--you find
their summits, not rounded, as our American mountains, by former drift
agency, nor forming continuous ridges, but shooting up in ragged peaks and
edges, as if they formed the teeth of mother earth; although, in fact, it
was the tooth of time that has gnawed them into their present forms. As
you approach the summit, you feel animated in anticipation of the splendid
prospect about to open upon you. But the clouds begin to gather, and soon
envelop the mountain top; and though you reach the pinnacle, the dense
mist limits your vision to a circle of a few rods in diameter. But ere
long the vapor begins to break away, and the lofty cliffs and deep caverns
around you are revealed. Now and then, the lake, so often found in the
recesses of these mountains, is half seen through the opening cloud, and,
magnified by the obscurity, it seems more distant and grand than if
distinctly visible. Gradually the clouds open in various directions,
disclosing gulf after gulf, lake after lake, mountain after mountain, and,
finally, the Irish Channel, dotted with sails; and the whole scene lies
spread out before you in glories that cannot be described. You are
standing upon the pinnacle of England, and you feel as if almost the whole
of it lay within the circle of vision. After enjoying so splendid a scene,
you are thankful that the cloud hid it at first from your sight, and so
much enhanced your pleasure by opening vista after vista, till the whole
became one magnificent circle of picturesque beauty and sublimity.[14]

To relieve the mind after gazing long on such scenes of rugged grandeur,
let us turn our course southerly, and follow down the romantic banks of
the Wye, where every turn presents some new beauties, occasionally
disclosing the ruins of some old castle, or magnificent abbey, (Tinton,)
and at length Bristol, with its aristocratic adjunct, Clifton, turns your
thoughts from the works of nature to those of man. And yet, even Clifton's
elegant Crescent is but a meagre show by the side of the magnificent gorge
which the Avon has cut in the rocks just before it enters Bristol Channel.

Passing over to the Isle of Wight, and traversing its shores, we shall
witness many unique examples of natural beauty, swelling sometimes into
sublimity,--such are the chalk cliffs near its western extremity, from two
hundred to six hundred feet high,--sometimes hollowed out into magnificent
domes, and the pillars of chalk, called _Needles_, in the midst of the
sea, alive with sea gulls and cormorants, and forming the remnants of the
chalk bridge that once united the island to England. There, too, Alum Bay,
with its many- strata of clay, unites the interesting in geology
with the picturesque in scenery.

Along the southern coast, also, are the stupendous cliffs and the romantic
under-cliffs, as well as the ragged _chines_, where an almost tropical
climate attracts the invalid, while the cool sea breezes draw thither the
wealthy and the fashionable.

But if sublime scenery pleases us more, we must traverse the Highlands of
Scotland,--

  "Land of brown heath and shaggy furze,"

land of lofty and naked mountains, embosoming lakes of great beauty, and
full of historic and poetic interest.

Passing over Loch Lomond, the queen of Scottish lakes, you go through the
long shadow of Ben Lomond, propped by many lesser mountains. Rising into
the Highlands, the sterility and wildness increase, and reach their
maximum in Glencoe, whose wildness and sublimity are indeed indescribable;
but if seen, they can never be forgotten. Still farther north, Ben Nevis
lifts its uncovered head above all other mountains in the British Isles;
so high, indeed, that often, during the whole summer, it retains a portion
of its snowy, wintry mantle.

Yet farther north, we come to the unique terraces, called the _Parallel
Roads of Glen Roy_, formerly supposed to be the work of giants; but now,
that they are known to be the product of nature, proving not only objects
of great scenographical interest, but a problem of special importance and
difficulty in geology.

If we should pass from Scotland to the north-east part of Ireland, taking
Staffa in our way, we should find in the basaltic columns of Fingal's
Cave, and the Giant's Causeway, what seems, at first view, to be
stupendous human structures, or rather the architecture of giants. But you
soon find it to be only an example--

  "Where nature works as if defying art,
  And, in defiance of her rival powers,
  By these fortuitous and random strokes,
  Performing such inimitable feats,
  As she, with all her rules, can never reach."

Let any one sail along the coast for a few miles at the Giant's Causeway,
enter some of the deep and echoing caverns, overhung by the basaltic mass,
and see the columns rising tier above tier, sometimes four hundred feet in
height, and assuming every wild and fantastic shape; or let him walk over
the acres of columns, whose tops are as perfectly polygonal and as
accurately fitted to one another as the most skilful architect could make
them, and he will confess how superior Nature is, when she would present a
model for human imitation; and how with accurate system she can combine
the wildest disorder, and thus delight by symmetry, while she awes by
sublimity.

Let us next pass over to continental Europe. We have reached the Rhine at
Bonn, and the steamboat takes us at once into the midst of the romantic
Drachenfels, or seven mountains, the result of volcanic agency, and still
presenting more or less of the conical outline peculiar almost to modern
volcanoes. These are the commencement of the romantic scenery of the
Rhine. From thence to Bingen, some sixty or seventy miles, that river has
cut its way through hills and mountains, sometimes rising one thousand
feet. Along their base, the inhabitants have planted many a well-known
town, while old castles, half crumbled down, recall continually the
history of feudal ages; and here, too, springs up a multitude of
remembrances of startling events in more recent times. The mind, indeed,
finds itself drawn at one moment to some historical monument, and the next
to scenery of surpassing beauty or sublimity; now the bold, overhanging
rock, now the deep recess, now the towering mountain, now the quiet dell
with its romantic villages; while every where on the north bank, the
vine-clad terraces show us what wonders human industry can accomplish.

Nor does the Rhine lose its interest when we have emerged from its _Ghor_
into its more open valley, from Bingen to Basle, in Switzerland. On its
right bank, the Vosges Mountains, and on its left, the Black Forest, with
not infrequent volcanic summits, afford a fine resting-place for the eye,
as the rail car bears us rapidly over the rich intervening level. Or if we
turn aside,--as to Heidelberg, on the Neckar,--what can be a more splendid
sight than to stand by the old castle above the town, and look down the
valley as the sun is sinking in the west!

But after all, it is in Switzerland, and there only, that we meet with the
climax of scenographical wonders. Nowhere else can we find such lakes in
the midst of such mountains; such pleasant valleys bordered by such
stupendous hills; such gorges, and precipices, and passes, and especially
such glaciers; such avalanches, such snow-capped mountains, while
vegetation at their base, and far up their sides, is fresh and luxuriant.

Embark, for instance, at Zurich, and, crossing its beautiful lake, direct
your course towards Mount Righi. As the heavy diligence lifts you above
the lake, you begin to catch glimpses of the grandeur of the Swiss
mountains to the south, piercing the clouds far off. Passing the romantic
Zug, you come to the valley between the Rossberg and the Righi, and the
denuded face of the former tells you whence came the mass of ruins over
which you clamber, and which buried the villages of Goldau, Bussingen, and
Rothen several hundred feet deep with blocks of stone and soil. Long and
steep is your ascent of Righi, nearly six thousand feet above the sea. But
the views you obtain by the way become wider and grander at every step.
Reaching the summit near sunset, you may be gratified by a panoramic view
of a large part of Switzerland, embracing its wildest and grandest
scenery. Yet, if the clouds prevent, you wait for the morning, in the hope
of being more fortunate. With the earliest dawn you awake, and proceed to
the summit of the mountain, where hundreds, perhaps, from all civilized
lands, are congregated, to witness the rising of the sun. But a dense
cloud envelops the mountain, and hope almost dies within you. Wait,
however, a few moments, and the rising sun will depress the clouds below
the mountain's summit, and a scene of glory shall open upon you, which can
never be erased from your memory. Look now, for the sun's first rays have
shed a flood of glory over the clouds which now fill the valleys beneath
your feet. A fleecy white predominates; but the colors of the prism tinge
the edges of the clouds, and no part of the solid earth rises above them,
save the pinnacle on which you stand, and to the south the higher peaks of
the Bernese Alps,--the Jungfrau, the Eiger, the Shreckhorn, and the
Wetterhorn,--covered with snow and glaciers, and seeming too pure to
belong to earth. Indeed, the whole scene seemed to me to be unearthly; the
fittest emblem that my eyes ever rested upon of celestial scenes; and one
cannot repress the desire, when looking upon it, to be borne away on wings
over the glorious scene, and to repose for a time upon the gorgeous bed,
forgetful of the lower world. Yet when, at length, the clouds begin to
break away, and disclose the deep valleys and blue lakes,--places made
immortal by the deeds of such patriots and reformers as Tell and
Zuinglius,--we feel again the attractions of earth; and as we descend to
Lake Lucerne, we have before us such scenery as scarcely any other part of
the world can furnish. And these scenes continue, in ever-changing
aspects, wherever we wander along this enchanting lake; and though the
exhausted brain fails at length, the objects of interest do not.

From this lake we might turn our course easterly, and soon find ourselves
amid the glacial regions of the Oberland Alps--scenes full of deep and
thrilling interest. But let us rather turn southerly, and, following down
the great valley of Switzerland, find our way among the Alps of Savoy,
where the same phenomena attain their maximum of interest and sublimity,
and the great monarch of the Alps is seen, wearing his hoary crown. As we
pass along towards Lake Lehman, if the air be clear, the Bernese Alps loom
up in unrivalled majesty; and as we sail over Lake Lehman, Mont Blanc,
with some of its nearly equal associates, shows its distant yet impressive
form. Passing without notice the almost unrivalled beauties of Lehman, and
following up the Arve through its stupendous gorges, we catch views of
Mont Blanc, as we approach it, that possess overpowering sublimity. At
length, Chamouny is reached--a lovely vale in the midst of Alpine wonders.
From thence we first ascend the Flegere, thirty-five hundred feet above
the valley, and sixty-five hundred above the ocean; and there we get a
fine view of Mont Blanc and the Aiguilles, or Needles. Here distances are
vastly diminished to the eye, and you seem in near proximity even with
Mont Blanc; and, in fact, should any adventurous visitors have reached
the top of that mountain, a good spy-glass will show them from this
spot.[15]

On the opposite side of the valley from the Flegere, and at about the same
height, is Montanvert, the most convenient spot for traversing the glacier
called the Mer de Glace. If, however, one would see the lower extremity of
that glacier, and the Arveron issuing from it, he must pass along the
right hand side of the stream, and then he can follow up the glacier to
Montanvert; and strange would it be if, in doing this, he should not hear
and see the frequent avalanche.

We have now reached the field where everlasting war is carried on between
heat and cold, summer and winter. Below us, verdure clothes the valleys,
and climbs up the <DW72>s of the hills; and there the shepherd watches his
flocks. Above us there are fields of ice stretching many a league, save
where some needle-shaped summit of naked rock, too steep for snow to rest
upon, shoots up in lonely grandeur thousands of feet, and defies the
raging elements. From these oceans of ice shoot forth down the valleys
enormous glaciers, appearing like vast rivers of ice, winding among the
hills, and pushing, at the rate of a few inches each day, far into
regions of vegetation; one year encroaching upon the shepherd's pasture
ground, and anon, by the access of heat, driven back towards the summit;
hurling down, from time to time, as they push forward, the thundering
avalanche.

Without difficulty at Montanvert we can enter upon the glacier, and in
spite of the deep _crevasse_, and the elemental war, which always rages in
those lofty regions, we may make our way to their source. Nay, human feet,
as already suggested, have pressed even the top of Mont Blanc; and should
we reach this summit of the Alps, we should stand upon the loftiest point
of Europe, and behold a scene which but few eyes ever have, or ever will,
rest upon. We should

                                    "breathe
  The difficult air of the iced mountain's top,
  Where the birds dare not build, nor insect's wing
  Flit o'er the herbless granite."

We should, in fact, have reached the climax of the sublime in natural
scenery.

Thus far I have described, almost without exception, only what I have
seen. But let us now venture into regions where we have only the
description of others to guide us. Let us enter the region of ancient
Armenia, a country composed of wide plains, bounded and intersected by
precipitous mountains. As we journeyed south-easterly over one of these
plains, a remarkable conical summit would arrest our attention, at the
distance of sixty miles. Day after day, as we approached, it would creep
up higher and higher above the horizon, developing its commanding
features, and rivetting more intensely the attention upon it. As we came
near its base, we should see that its top rose far into the region of
eternal ice, whose glassy surface would reflect the light like a mirror,
and whose lower edge had shot forth enormous glaciers as far as the heat
would allow them to descend. In the plain below, we should be sweltering
in a tropical heat; but the same sun that melted us would make no
impression upon the wintry crown of the mountain. We could not keep our
eyes or thoughts turned away from an object so sublime. And it would
deepen the impression to learn that this gigantic cone, shooting up three
and a half miles, was once a volcano; and still more would it deepen our
interest to learn that this is the mountain which universal tradition in
that region regards as the Mount Ararat, the resting-place of the ark. It
would strike us forcibly to realize that what seems to us now to be a
pillar of heaven, was the patriarch's stepping-stone from the antediluvian
into the postdiluvian world.

One more example may suffice. Go with me to the Sandwich Islands, and we
shall get an impressive glimpse of the principal agency by which the
earth's crust has been ridged, furrowed, and dislocated. As we land upon
Hawaii, we perceive it to be composed mainly of lava of no very ancient
date. We ascend a lofty _plateau_, and many a league in advance of us we
see a column of smoke rising from a vast plain. Directing our course
thither, while yet some miles from it, we descend a steep <DW72> to a broad
terrace, and then another <DW72> to a second terrace. These <DW72>s and
terraces extend circularly around the pillar of smoke like the seats of a
vast amphitheatre.

Coming near to this column, our steps are arrested on the margin of a vast
gulf, fifteen hundred feet deep, and from eight to ten miles in
circumference, whose bottom is the seat of the most remarkable volcano on
the globe;--I mean Kilauea. Wait here till night closes around us, and we
shall witness a scene of awful sublimity. Over the immense area of that
gulf will the volcanic agency beneath be exerted. Ever and anon, and
mingling in strange discord, will hissings and groanings, mutterings and
thunderings, be heard rolling from side to side, and making the earth
tremble around. Then from one and another volcanic cone--perhaps from
fifty--will the glowing lava burst forth; red-hot stones will be driven
furiously upward; vapor, and smoke, and flames will be poured out, and the
dark and jagged sides of that vast furnace will glow with unearthly
splendor; and here and there will lakes of liquid lava appear, one or two
miles in extent, heaving up their billows, and dashing their fiery spray
high into the air. O, there is not on earth a livelier emblem of the world
of despair; and yet we know it is not the lake which burneth with fire and
brimstone, nor the abode of lost spirits. We know it to be only one of the
safety-valves of our globe, and an exhibition of that mighty agency within
the globe which has heaved and dislocated its crust; and, therefore, as we
gaze upon the scene, and forget our fatigue and sleep, we experience only
the emotions of awful sublimity, which can hardly fail to rise into
adoration of that infinite Being who can say, even to this agency, Thus
far shalt thou go, and no farther.

These are samples only of those delightful emotions which he experiences,
who possesses a taste for natural scenery. And kindred emotions will be
awakened within him, wherever he wanders among the works of God. They form
some of the purest and most satisfying pleasures which this world affords.
They constitute pleasant oases along the dreary journey of life; and so
deeply does memory engrave them on her tablet, that no change of time or
circumstances can hide them from our view. Now, it is obvious that if the
Author of nature and of the human soul had been malevolent, instead of
making every thing which man meets in creation "beauty to his eye, and
music to his ear," he would have made all offensive and painful. Instead
of the delightful emotions of beauty and sublimity which now rise within
us as we open our eyes upon nature, feelings of aversion and fear would
haunt us. Every sound would have been discordant, and every sight
terrific. He could not have been even indifferent to our happiness, when
he commissioned those desolating agencies of nature, fire and water, to
ridge up and furrow out the earth's surface as the groundwork of the
future landscape. For he has taken care that the result should be a scene
productive of pleasure only to the soul that is in a healthy state.
Benevolence only, infinite benevolence, could have done this.

_My third argument in favor of the divine benevolence is founded on the
arrangements for the distribution of water on the globe._

We should expect on so uneven a surface as the earth presents, that this
element, which forms the liquid nourishment of all organic life, and which
in many other ways seems indispensable, must be very unequally
distributed, and fail entirely in many places; and yet we find it in
almost every spot where man erects his habitation. And those places where
there is a deficiency are usually extended plains; not, as we should
expect, the mountainous regions. The latter are usually well watered; and
this is accomplished in three ways. In the first place, in most
mountainous countries, the strata are so much tilted up, as to prevent the
water from running off. In the second place, the pervious strata are
frequently interrupted by faults sometimes filled by impervious matter. In
the third place, the comminuted materials that cover the rocks as soils,
are often so fine, or of such a nature, as to prevent the passage of
water; and thus much of the water that falls upon elevated land remains
there, while enough percolates through the pervious materials to water the
valleys and supply the streams. These carry it to the lakes and the ocean,
where it is returned by evaporation in the form of clouds, and thus an
admirable system of circulation is kept up, whereby this essential element
is purified, and conveyed to every part of the surface where man or beast
require it.

There is one recent discovery, which deserves notice here, because it
depends upon the geological structure of the earth. When pervious and
impervious strata alternate, and are considerably inclined, water may be
brought from great depths by hydrostatic pressure, if the impervious
stratum be bored through and the water-bearing deposit be reached. A
perpetual fountain may thus be produced, and water be obtained in a region
naturally deficient in it. An Artesian fountain of this description, in
the suburbs of Paris, has been brought from the enormous depth of eighteen
hundred feet![16]

Now, just consider that to deprive the earth of water is to deprive it of
inhabitants, and you cannot but see in the means by which it is so widely,
nay, almost universally, diffused, and made to circulate for
purification,--the most decided marks of divine benevolence. Why is it not
as striking as the curious means by which the blood and the sap of animals
and plants are sent to every part of the system to supply its waste, and
give it greater development?

_I derive a fourth geological argument for the benevolence of the Deity,
from the manner in which the metallic ores are distributed through the
earth's crust._

It can hardly be doubted, by the geologist, that nearly every part of the
earth's crust, and its interior too, have been some time or other in a
melted state. Now, as the metals and their ores are usually heavier than
other rocks, we should expect that they would have accumulated at the
centre of the globe, and have been enveloped by the rocks so as to have
been forever inaccessible to man. And the very great weight of the central
parts of the earth--almost twice that of granite--leads naturally to the
conclusion that the heavier metals may be accumulated there, though this
is by no means a certain conclusion; since at the depth of thirty-four
miles air would be so condensed by the pressure of the superincumbent mass
as to be as heavy as water; water at the depth of three hundred and
sixty-two miles would become as heavy as quick-silver; and at the centre
steel would be compressed into one fourth, and stone into one eighth, of
its bulk at the surface. Still it is most probable that the materials
naturally the heaviest would first seek the centre. And yet, by means of
sublimation, and expansion by internal heat, or the segregating power of
galvanic action, or of some other agents, enough of the metals is
protruded towards the surface, and diffused through the rocks in beds, or
veins, so as to be accessible to human industry. Here, then, we find
divine benevolence, apparently in opposition to gravity, providing for
human comfort.

I have said that these metals were accessible to human industry. And it
does require a great deal of labor, and calls into exercise man's highest
ingenuity to obtain them. They might have been spread in immense masses
over the surface; they might all have been reduced to a metallic state in
the great furnace, which we have reason to suppose is always in blast,
within the earth. But then there would have been no requisition upon the
exertion and energy of man. And to have these called into exercise is an
object of greater importance to society than to supply it with the metals.
God, therefore, has so distributed the ores as to stimulate man to explore
and reduce them, while he has placed so many difficulties in the way as to
demand much mental and physical effort for their removal. Man now,
therefore, receives a double benefit. While the metals themselves are of
immense service, the discipline of body and mind requisite for obtaining
them is of still greater value. This is the combined result of infinite
wisdom and benevolence.

If I mistake not, there is such a relation between the amount of useful
metals and the wants of society as could have resulted only from divine
benevolence. The metal most widely diffused, and the only one occurring in
all the rock formations, from the oldest to the newest, is iron;--the
metal by far the most important to civilized society. This is also by far
the most abundant, and easily obtained. It often forms extensive beds, or
even mountain masses upon the surface. All the other metals are confined
almost exclusively to the older rocks. Among them, lead, copper, and zinc
are probably most needed, and accordingly they are next in quantity and in
the facility with which they may be explored. Manganese, mercury, chrome,
antimony, cobalt, arsenic, and bismuth are more difficult to obtain; but
the supply is always equal to the demand. In the case of tin, silver,
platinum, and gold, we find some interesting properties to compensate in a
great measure for their scarcity. Gold and platinum possess a remarkable
power of resisting those powerful agents of chemical change which destroy
every thing else. They are never oxidized in the earth, and with a very
few exceptions, the most powerful reagents leave them untouched, while
platinum will not yield in the most powerful heat of the furnace. Gold,
silver, and tin are capable of an astonishing extension, whereby they may
be spread over the surface of the more abundant metals to protect and
adorn them; and since the discovery of the galvanic mode of accomplishing
this, so easily is it done, that I know not but a gold or silver surface
is to become as common as metallic articles.

_My fifth geological argument for the divine benevolence is derived from
the joint and desolating effects of ice and water upon the earth's
surface, both before and after man's creation._

In northern countries, and perhaps in high southern latitudes, it seems
that after the deposition of the tertiary rocks, and after the surface had
assumed essentially its present shape, it was subjected for a long time to
a powerful agency, whereby the rough and salient parts were worn down and
rounded, the rocks in place smoothed and furrowed, valleys scooped out,
huge blocks of stone transported far from the parent bed, piled up, and
thick accumulations of bowlders, sand, and gravel, strewn promiscuously
over the surface. At the commencement of this process, the ocean, probably
loaded with ice, stood above a large part of the present continents. It
soon began to subside, or the land to rise, and a more quiet action
succeeded. The joint action of the ocean and the glaciers on the land
ground down into sand, clay, and loam, the coarser drift, and sorted it in
the form of beaches, terraces, and alluvial deposits. All this while, both
the land and the water seem to have been, for the most part, destitute of
inhabitants. But these were the very processes needed for man and his
contemporary races, who were to appear during the latter part of the
pleistocene period. In other words, the soils were thus got ready for
nourishing the vegetation necessary to sustain the new creation, which
would convert these desolate and deserted sea-beds into regions of
fertility and happiness to teeming millions.

Now, just consider what must have been the effect of these mighty aqueous
and glacial agencies upon the earth's surface. Over the level regions they
strewed the finer materials; and where the rocks had been thrown up into
ridges and displaced by numerous fissures, or subsequently worn into
bluffs and precipices by the ocean, it needed just such an agency to
smooth down those irregularities, to fill up those gulfs, to give to the
hills and valleys a graceful outline, and to cover all the surface with
those comminuted materials that would need only cultivation to make them a
fertile soil. Some rocks do, indeed, decompose and form soils; but this
process would be too slow, unless in moist and warm regions, where it is
easier to find a footing for plants than in climes more uncongenial to
their growth. We cannot then hesitate to regard this tremendous agency of
ice and water in northern and high southern regions as decidedly
beneficial in its influence. It must, indeed, have spread terrible
destruction over those regions. But it seems that a time was chosen for
its operation when the globe was almost destitute of organic life, and not
long before the time when a new and nobler creation than those previously
occupying the earth was to be placed upon it. Desolating as this agency
must have appeared, and actually was, at the time, yet who can doubt, when
we see the ultimate fruits of it, that its origin was divine benevolence?

In the ultimate results of aqueous inundations at the present day, we can
trace the same benevolent design. Those floods do, indeed, produce partial
evils; nay, life, as well as property, often falls a prey to them. But
they produce those alluvial soils which are more prolific of vegetation
than any other on the globe. Who has not heard of the fertility of the
banks of the Nile, the Niger, the Ganges, the Amazon, and the Mississippi?
all of them the fruit of inundations. Truly, such floods as these may be
said _to clap their hands_ in praise of the divine goodness.

_My sixth geological argument for the divine benevolence is derived from
the existence of volcanoes._

The first impression made on the mind by the history of volcanic action
is, that its effects are examples rather of vindictive justice than of
benevolence. And such is the light in which they are regarded by Mr.
Gisborne, an able English divine, in his "Testimony of Natural to Revealed
Religion." He looks, indeed, upon all the disturbances that have taken
place in the earth's crust as evidence of a fallen condition of the world,
as mementoes of a former penal infliction upon a guilty race. And aside
from the light which geology casts upon the subject, this would be a not
improbable conclusion. Take for an example the case of volcanoes and
earthquakes.

A volcano is an opening made in the earth's crust by internal heat, which
has forced melted or heated matter through the vent. An earthquake is the
effect of the confined gases and vapors, produced by the heat upon the
crust. When the volcano, therefore, gets vent, the earthquake always
ceases. But the latter has generally been more destructive of life and
property than the former. Where one city has been destroyed by lava, like
Herculaneum, Pompeii, and Stabiae, twenty have been shaken down by the
rocking and heaving of earthquakes. The records of ancient as well as
modern times abound with examples of these tremendous catastrophes.
Preeminent on the list is the city of Antioch. Imagine the inhabitants of
that great city, crowded with strangers on a festival occasion, suddenly
arrested on a calm day, by the earth heaving and rocking beneath their
feet; and in a few moments two hundred and fifty thousand of them are
buried by falling houses, or the earth opening and swallowing them up.
Such was the scene which that city presented in the year 526; and several
times before and since that period has the like calamity fallen upon it;
and twenty, forty, and sixty thousand of its inhabitants have been
destroyed at each time. In the year 17 after Christ, no less than thirteen
cities of Asia Minor were in like manner overwhelmed in a single night.
Think of the terrible destruction that came upon Lisbon in 1755. The sun
had just dissipated the fog in a warm, calm morning, when suddenly the
subterranean thundering and heaving began; and in six minutes the city was
a heap of ruins, and sixty thousand of the inhabitants were numbered among
the dead. Hundreds had crowded upon a new quay surrounded by vessels. In a
moment the earth opened beneath them, and the wharf, the vessels, and the
crowd went down into its bosom; the gulf closed, the sea rolled over the
spot, and no vestige of wharf, vessels, or man ever floated to the
surface. How thrilling is the account left us by Kircher, who was near, of
the destruction of Euphemia, in Calabria, a city of about five thousand
inhabitants, in the year 1638! "After some time," says he, "the violent
paroxysm of the earthquake ceasing, I stood up, and, turning my eyes to
look for Euphemia, saw only a frightful black cloud. We waited till it had
passed away, when nothing but a dismal and putrid lake was to be seen
where the city once stood." In like manner did Port Royal, in the West
Indies, sink beneath the waters, with nearly all its inhabitants, in less
than one minute, in the year 1692.

Still more awful, though usually less destructive, is often the scene
presented by a volcanic eruption. Imagine yourselves, for instance, upon
one of the wide, elevated plains of Mexico, far from the fear of
volcanoes. The earth begins to quake under your feet, and the most
alarming subterranean noises admonish you of a mighty power within the
earth that must soon have vent. You flee to the surrounding mountains in
time to look back and see ten square miles of the plain swell up, like a
bladder, to the height of five hundred feet, while numerous smaller cones
rise from the surface still higher, and emit smoke; and in their midst,
six mountains are thrown up to the height, some of them at least, of
sixteen hundred feet, and pour forth melted lava, turning rivers out of
their course, and spreading terrific desolation over a late fertile plain,
and forever excluding its former inhabitants. Such was the eruption, by
which Jorullo, in Mexico, was suddenly thrown up, in 1759.

Still more terrific have been some of the eruptions in Iceland. In 1783,
earthquakes of tremendous power shook the whole island, and flames burst
forth from the ocean. In June these ceased, and Skaptar Jokul opened its
mouth; nor did it close till it had poured forth two streams of lava, one
sixty miles long, twelve miles broad, and the other forty miles long, and
seven broad, and both with an average thickness of one hundred feet.
During that summer the inhabitants saw the sun no more, and all Europe was
covered with a haze.

Around the Papandayang, one of the loftiest mountains in Java, no less
than forty villages were reposing in peace. But in August, 1772, a
remarkable luminous cloud enveloping its top aroused them from their
security. But it was too late. For at once the mountain began to sink into
the earth, and soon it had disappeared with the forty villages, and most
of the inhabitants, over a space fifteen miles long and six broad.

Still more extraordinary--the most remarkable on record--was an eruption
in Sumbawa, one of the Molucca Islands, in 1815. It began on the fifth day
of April, and did not cease till July. The explosions were heard in one
direction nine hundred and seventy miles, and in another seven hundred and
twenty miles. So heavy was the fall of ashes at the distance of forty
miles that houses were crushed and destroyed. The floating cinders in the
ocean, hundreds of miles distant, were two feet thick, and vessels were
forced through them with difficulty. The darkness in Java, three hundred
miles distant, was deeper than the blackest night; and finally, out of the
twelve thousand inhabitants of the island, only twenty-six survived the
catastrophe.

Now, if we confine our views to such facts as these, we can hardly avoid
the conclusion that earthquakes and volcanoes are terrific exhibitions of
God's displeasure towards a fallen and guilty world. But if it can be
shown that the volcanic agency exerts a salutary influence in preserving
the globe from ruin, nay, is essential to such preservation, we must
regard its incidental destruction of property and life as no evidence of a
vindictive infliction, nor of the want of benevolence in its operation.
And the remarkable proofs which modern geology has presented of vast
accumulations of heated and melted matter beneath the earth's crust, do
make such an agent as volcanoes essential to the preservation of the
globe. In order to make out this position, I shall not contend that all
the earth's interior, beneath fifty or one hundred miles, is in a state of
fusion. For even the most able and decided of those geologists who object
to such an inference, admit that oceans of melted matter do exist beneath
the surface. And if so, how liable would vast accumulations of heat be, if
there were no safety-valves through the crust, to rend asunder even a
whole continent? Volcanoes are those safety-valves, and more than two
hundred of them are scattered over the earth's surface, forming vent-holes
into the heated interior. Most of them, indeed, have the valves loaded,
and the effort of the confined gases and vapors to lift the load produces
the terrific phenomena of earthquakes and volcanoes. But if no such
passages into the interior existed, what could prevent the pent-up gases
from accumulating till they had gained strength enough to rend a whole
continent, and perhaps the whole globe, into fragments? Is it not, then,
benevolence by which this agency prevents so dreadful a catastrophe, even
by means that bring some incidental evils along with them?

Some able writers do, indeed, object to the idea that volcanoes are
safety-valves to the globe, deriving their objections from certain facts
respecting the position of volcanic craters in the Sandwich Islands, if I
do not misrecollect. Without going into the details of that case, for want
of time and space, it seems to me that the facts respecting the connection
between earthquakes and volcanoes, admitted by all, will justify such a
view of the latter as is expressed by the term "safety-valves." For
earthquakes are but the incipient effects of the volcanic force within the
globe; and if these effects have been so terrible at the beginning, what
must be the full exhibition of that force, if not able to find a passage
for the struggling gases and lava through the strata above them? Who can
say that it might not rend a continent asunder, and, if deep enough
seated, even the whole globe?

The question will undoubtedly be asked by every reflecting mind, why
infinite wisdom and benevolence could not have devised a plan for securing
the good resulting from volcanoes and earthquakes without the attendant
evils. The same question meets us at almost every step of our examination
of the present system of the world. For we every where meet with evil,
incidentally connected with agencies whose predominant effects are
beneficial. I incline to the opinion, that the true answer to this
question is, that the evil is permitted that thereby greater good may be
secured to the universe. Still the subject of the origin of evil is one
whose full solution can hardly be expected in the present world, because
we cannot here master all its elements. When it can be solved, we can tell
why so much desolation and suffering are permitted to accompany the
earthquake and the volcano. But if we can show that benefits far
outweighing the evil are the result of this terrific agency, we gather
from it decided evidence of the divine benevolence;--the same evidence
which we gain from any other operations of nature; for in them all there
is only a preponderance of good, not unmixed good. The desolation of this
fair world by volcanic agency, and especially the destruction of life, do,
indeed, teach us that this present system of nature is adapted to a state
of probation and death, instead of a state of rewards and immortal life.
It is adapted to sinful and fallen beings, rather than to those who are
perfect in holiness and in happiness. In short, it is earth, not heaven.
It is not such a world as heaven must be, to secure unalloyed and eternal
happiness. Nevertheless, benevolence decidedly predominates in the
arrangements of the present system, even in the desolating agency under
consideration. I do not deny that God may sometimes employ this agency, as
he may every other in nature, for the punishment of the guilty. But before
we infer that this is the general use and design of volcanoes and
earthquakes, we should ponder well the questions put by our Savior _to
some that told him of the Galileans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with
their sacrifices_. _Suppose ye_, answered the Savior, _that these
Galileans were sinners above all the Galileans, because they suffered such
things? I tell you nay. Or those eighteen, upon whom the tower of Siloam
fell and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all men that
dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you nay._ Let us follow the example of Jesus
Christ, and take a more enlarged view of these startling and distressing
events. Let us inquire whether they are not the incidental effects of
agencies essential to the permanence and happiness of the great system of
the universe. This is certainly the case in regard to volcanoes. We have
strong reason to believe that they are essential to the preservation of
the globe; and of how much higher consequence is this than the
comparatively small amount of property and life which they destroy! If we
can only rise to these higher views, and not suffer our judgment to be
warped by the immediate terrors of the earthquake and the volcano, we
shall see the smile of infinite benevolence where most men see only the
wrath of an offended Deity.

_My seventh geological argument for the divine benevolence is derived from
the manner in which coal, rock salt, marble, gypsum, and other valuable
materials were prepared for the use of man, long before his existence._

If a created and intelligent being from some other sphere had alighted on
this globe during that remote period when the vegetation now dug out of
the coal formation covered the surface with its gigantic growth, he might
have felt as if here was a waste of creative power. Vast forests of
sigillaria, lepidodendra, coniferae, cycadeae, and tree ferns would have
waved over his head, with their imposing though sombre foliage, while the
lesser tribes of calamites and equisetaceae would have filled the
intervening spaces; but no vertebral animal would have been there to
enjoy and enliven the almost universal solitude. Why, then, he must have
inquired, is there such a profusion of vegetable forms, and such a
colossal development of individual plants? To what use can such vast
forests be applied? But let ages roll by, and that same being revisit our
world at the present time. Let him traverse the little Island of Britain,
and see there fifteen thousand steam engines moved by coal dug out of the
earth, and produced by these same ancient forests. Let him see these
engines performing the work of two millions of men, and moving machinery
which accomplishes what would require the unaided labors of three or four
hundred millions of men, and he could not doubt but such a result was one
of the objects of that rank vegetation which covered the earth ere it was
fit for the residence of such natures as now dwell upon it. Let him go to
the coal fields of other countries, and especially those of the United
States, stretching over one hundred and fifty thousand square miles,
containing a quantity absolutely inexhaustible, and already imparting
comfort to millions of the inhabitants, and giving life and energy to
every variety of manufacture through the almost entire length of this
country, and destined to pour out their wealth through all coming time,
long after the forests shall all have been levelled,--and irresistible
must be the conviction upon his mind, that here is a beautiful example of
prospective benevolence on the part of the Deity. In those remote ages,
while yet the earth was unfitted for the higher races of animals that now
dwell upon it, it was eminently adapted to nourish that gigantic flora
which would produce the future fuel of the human race, when that crown of
all God's works should be placed upon the earth. Ere that time, those
forests must sink beneath the ocean, be buried beneath deposits of rock
thousands of feet thick. But during all that period, all those chemical
changes which are essential to convert them into coal would be
accomplished, and, at last, man would find access, by his ingenuity and
industry, to the deep-seated beds whence his fuel might be drawn. Nor
would these vast repositories fail him till the consummation of all
things. Surely there was no waste, but there was a far-reaching plan of
benevolence in the profusion of vegetable life in the earlier periods of
our planet.

Essentially the same remark will apply to the limestone, gypsum, rock
salt, and several other mineral products of the earth, which are almost
indispensable to man in a civilized state. For these, too, were produced
by slow processes, during those vast periods of duration that preceded
man's existence. Limestone has been chiefly elaborated by the organs of
animals, many of them of microscopic littleness. Yet lofty ranges of
mountains and immense deposits in the intervening valleys have been the
result. Nearly one seventh part of the crust of the globe, it has been
said, is thus constituted of the works or remains of animals. And can we
doubt but that these rocks are thus spread over the surface of the globe
because they are needed by all mankind, like air and water? It must have
been benevolence that so arranged the agencies by which they were
produced, during the revolution of primeval ages, that they have this wide
diffusion. Gypsum and fossil salt are more sparingly diffused; but still
enough is always to be found to meet the demand. Nor is it reasonable to
doubt that the same prospective goodness which provided for coal and
limestone, commissioned other agencies to lay up a store of gypsum, salt,
bitumen, clay, and other substances dug out of the earth for man's
benefit.

_My eighth geological argument for the divine benevolence is based upon
the perfect adaptation of the natures of animals and plants to the varying
condition of the globe through all the periods of its past history._

The very slight changes in climate, situation, and food, that will destroy
most species of animals and plants, is hard to be realized by man, whose
nature will sustain very great changes of this kind. So will most of the
animals and plants that have been domesticated by man, and which accompany
him into every soil and climate. But the great mass of animals and plants
would perish by such a transplantation. They are adapted to a particular
region, often of narrow limits; and to remove them from thence, even to
one slightly diverse, is to cause their deterioration and final
destruction. In other words, their natures are exactly adapted to the
place of habitation assigned them. And it must have required infinite
wisdom thus to fit the delicate machinery of animal and vegetable
organization to the great variety of circumstances on the globe in which
it is placed. But we find that same wisdom to have been manifested in all
the vast periods of organic life. We have the most unequivocal evidence
that the condition of the earth has undergone important changes. We cannot
examine the remarkable flora and fauna of the older rocks, the gigantic
sauroid fishes, the huge orthoceratites and ammonites, the heteroclitic
trilobites, and the strange sigillaria and lepidodendra, calamites and
asterophyllites, the lofty coniferae, and the anomalous cycadeae,--we cannot
examine these without realizing that a state of the globe very different
from the present must have existed when they had possession of it. And
when we contemplate also the enormous saurians and batrachians of the
middle secondary rocks, and the colossal quadrupeds of the tertiary
strata, we cannot doubt that a tropical or an ultra-tropical climate must
have prevailed in high northern latitudes during their existence. We
perceive that there has been a gradual decrease of temperature on the
surface from the earliest times. In each successive race of organized
beings which have been placed on the globe, there must have been,
therefore, some change of constitution to adapt them to the altered state
of the climate and productions of the earth. And we find this alteration
to have been always made with consummate skill, so as to secure the most
complete development of organic beings, and the greatest enjoyment to
sensitive natures. Malevolence would not have done this; for it might with
infinite knowledge at command, have filled each successive period of the
world with natures unadapted to the mutable condition of things, capable,
indeed, of a prolonged existence, not to enjoy, but only to suffer. But
infinite benevolence was fitting up this world by slow secondary agencies
for the elevated races which now occupy it, especially for one species,
rational and immortal; and it lavished its kindness and wisdom by filling
the world, during those preparatory ages, with multitudes of happy beings,
fitted exactly to each altered condition of the air, the water, and the
soil.

_My ninth and last geological argument for the divine benevolence is
founded upon the permanence and security of the world, in spite of the
mighty changes it has undergone, and the powerful agencies to which it is
now subject._

When we learn from the records of geology, as they are inscribed upon the
rocks, how numerous and thorough have been the revolutions of the surface
and the crust of the globe in past ages; how often and how long the
present dry land has been alternately above and beneath the ocean; how
frequently the crust of the globe has been fractured, bent, and
dislocated,--now lifted upward, and now thrown downward, and now folded
by lateral pressure; how frequently melted matter has been forced through
its strata and through its fissures to the surface; in short, how every
particle of the accessible portions of the globe has undergone entire
metamorphoses; and especially when we recollect what strong evidence there
is that oceans of liquid matter exist beneath the solid crust, and that
probably the whole interior of the earth is in that condition, with
expansive energy sufficient to rend the globe into fragments,--when we
review all these facts, we cannot but feel that the condition of the
surface of the globe must be one of great insecurity and liability to
change. But it is not so. On the contrary, the present state of the globe
is one of permanent uniformity and entire security, except those
comparatively slight catastrophes which result from earthquakes,
volcanoes, and local deluges. Even the climate has experienced no general
change within historic times, and the profound mathematical researches of
Baron Fourier have demonstrated that, even though the internal parts of
the globe are in an incandescent state, beneath a crust thirty or forty
miles, the temperature at the surface has long since ceased to be affected
by the melted central mass; that it is not now more than one seventeenth
of a degree higher than it would be if the interior were ice; and that
hundreds of thousands of years will not see it lowered, from this cause,
more than the seventeenth part of a degree. And as to the apprehension
that the entire crust of the globe may be broken through, and fall into
the melted matter beneath, just reflect what solidity and strength there
must be in a mass of hard rock from fifty to one hundred miles in
thickness, and your fears of such a catastrophe will probably vanish.

Now, such a uniformity of climate and security from general ruin are
essential to the comfort and existence of animal nature. But it must have
required infinite wisdom and benevolence so to arrange and balance the
mighty elements of change and ruin which exist in the earth, that they
should hold one another in check, and make the world a quiet, unchanged,
and secure dwelling-place for so many thousands of years. Surely that
wisdom must have been guided by infinite benevolence. And it would seem
from geology that the same union of wisdom and benevolence have always
arranged the past conditions of the earth. For, during each of the periods
of organic existence, uniformity and security seem to have prevailed so
long as the purposes of the Deity required. In early times, indeed, when
animals were mostly confined to the waters, it was not necessary that the
dry land should be as exempt as at present from catastrophes; and probably
they were then more frequent; and it may be that, while there were
uniformity and security in one portion of the globe, or in one element,
there might have been disturbance and desolation in others. And it is
doubtful whether such general quiet has ever prevailed for so long a time
as during the present, or historic period. We see a reason for this in the
fact that never before were so many animals in existence, with a structure
so delicate and complicated.

Such are the evidences of divine benevolence, drawn from a field at first
view most unpromising. And yet, when we come to look beyond the surface,
where do we find more decisive or more numerous indications of God's
beneficence? They are not like many hasty generalizations, which
superficial examination has often brought from natural phenomena in proof
of this same truth, but which, although beautiful at first view, must be
abandoned upon careful research. But these, though repulsive at first,
gain solidity and beauty by examination. And they are the more interesting
because they come from an unexpected quarter. Men have been accustomed to
search among the drift piled up by water and ice, among dislocated and
rent strata of rocks, among mountains overturned and fields made desolate
by volcanic eruptions, for the mementoes of penal inflictions; but they
have not imagined that divine benevolence might be seen among these
disturbances and desolations; and that simply because they confined their
views to the immediate effect of geological agencies, and did not enlarge
their views to take in their connection with the great system of the
universe. But now that we find the stamp of benevolence even here, we
learn an instructive lesson. Every reflecting mind is aware that the
doctrine of divine benevolence lies at the foundation of all natural and
revealed religion, and that until this be established we labor in vain to
erect a superstructure. It is well known, also, that the existence of
natural and moral evil has been considered a strong objection to this
great truth. Now, geology furnishes us with many examples, in which
agencies, often fraught with terrific evils, are nevertheless eminently
beneficial when the whole extent of their operation is taken into account.
Why is it not a fair inference that, in all other cases where evils stand
out prominently, they are only incidental results of some wide system of
operations, of which our limited vision embraces only a part, but whose
tendencies as a whole are eminently salutary, and whose incidental evils
do, in fact, increase the salutary effects? If so, what reason have we to
believe that, when the light of eternity shall clarify our mental eye, and
enlarge our knowledge of the present system of the universe, we shall find
all "partial evil to be universal good," and that our narrow views alone
threw obscurity and difficulty over this subject in this life? O, if even
here so many rays of divine love find their way into our narrow
prison-house, what will be their brightness when they pour in upon us from
the unveiled glories of the heavenly world!




LECTURE VII.

DIVINE BENEVOLENCE AS EXHIBITED IN A FALLEN WORLD.


The geological proofs of the divine benevolence considered in the last
lecture present only a partial view of that glorious characteristic of
Jehovah. I am tempted, therefore, to exhibit it in its more general aspect
and broader relations. This will necessarily bring into view other
important religious truths respecting man's fallen condition and
character, and, as a consequence, the modified aspect of the divine
goodness in such a world.

To those destitute of a revelation this world has, indeed, ever seemed an
inextricable maze, an enigma too dark for human wisdom to solve. Nor have
those favored with the Bible agreed in their modes of clearing up the
mystery. Having endeavored to explain all by following out some leading
and favorite idea, their theories have varied as these predominant
conceptions differed. One, for instance, fixes his gaze so intently upon
the divine benevolence that he is blind to every manifestation of
Jehovah's sterner attributes. Another, deeply impressed with the story of
man's original apostasy, sees only vindictive justice, and penal
infliction, and disordered action, in all the movements of nature and the
trials and sufferings of man. A third, captivated by the discoveries of
modern geology, relative to the existence of suffering and death in the
world before man's creation, and learning, moreover, from physiology,
that death is a general law of all organized natures, vegetable as well as
animal, is led to doubt whether the disorders of the world have any
important connection with man's apostasy.

Now, it were easy to show that our views on these subjects have a most
important bearing upon our entire system of theology; and, therefore, they
deserve our most thorough and candid examination. To such an examination I
now invite your serious attention.

It is not my object to appeal to the Scriptures to prove the divine
benevolence. That were an easy task. So, were this an unfallen world,
every object and event would be redolent of God's goodness. But where sin
and death abound, that goodness must assume a different aspect, since its
unmixed manifestation would work mischief. Now, the point aimed at in this
lecture is to ascertain whether natural religion can point out decisive
evidence of divine benevolence. We can conceive it quite possible that in
a fallen world God might find it necessary so to mingle displays of
justice with those of goodness, that man might be in doubt which
predominated.

There is another reason for considering this subject apart from scriptural
evidence. We need to establish the doctrine of divine benevolence as a
basis on which to rest the evidences of inspiration; or, rather, we want
to be able to assume God's benevolence, in arguing for the truth of the
Bible, and in judging of its contents. This doctrine, therefore, is one of
the most important, as it is certainly the most difficult, in natural
theology.

Obviously the first step in this investigation must be to ascertain what
is the real state of this world, as a manifestation of the benevolence and
justice of God. In other words, we need to ascertain what exhibitions of
these attributes are presented to us in nature, and in the economy of
Providence, and how much of the evil in the world is to be imputed to
man's perversion of the gifts of God. I shall proceed, therefore, to state
the main points on this subject which fair and candid reasoning seems to
me to sustain. When these points are before us, with a summary of the
evidence by which they are supported, we shall be prepared to deduce
important conclusions respecting God's character and dispensations, and
man's position and destiny.

_In the first place, then, I maintain that benevolence decidedly
predominates in the present system of the world._

Let this proposition be fully understood. It does not mean that there is
no mixture of evil in the operations of nature, but only that good
decidedly overbalances the evil. And by the operations of nature I mean
those processes resulting from natural laws, which are uninfluenced by the
perverseness of man. How much of evil may be imputed to his perversion of
the gifts of Providence will be considered in another place, as will also
those cases in which evil seems inseparable from the original arrangements
of the world. All that I am now concerned to prove is, that, in a vast
majority of instances, we see the marks of benevolent design and
benevolent operation in the arrangements of nature.

This position is established, in the first place, by the fact that the
design of every natural contrivance is to produce happiness.

To show that such is the case, by an appeal to facts, would be, in truth,
to write the history of every natural process, and show its design. But it
will be sufficient to consider only such cases as appear most decidedly to
militate against my position, and to show that even these are not
designed to cause evil or suffering.

How does it happen, then, you may inquire, that evil is the result of a
multitude of contrivances and processes in nature? It is an incidental
effect, I answer; that is, an effect happening aside from the main design
of the contrivance. Take a few illustrations.

No one can doubt that the law of gravity is essential to the preservation
and comfort of the world, and to the harmonious motions of the heavenly
bodies. Yet how often does it give rise to frightful accidents to men and
animals! But when they are crushed by falling bodies, or by falling
themselves, who imagines this to be the design of gravitation? How clear
that its real object is beneficial, and that the evil resulting from it is
unavoidable in a world constituted like ours! Why the world is not
constituted differently, is an inquiry which men may try to answer; but an
answer is not important to my present object.

Take an example from the organic world. Every one is aware that without a
nervous system in animals there would be no sensibility, nor sensation,
and, of course, no enjoyment; and without these, animals would be
unconscious of danger, and would not guard against it, nor withdraw from
it. We are sure, therefore, that these two objects are the grand design of
the nervous system, and, of course, it is a benevolent design. But the
nervous system causes a great deal of suffering as well as pleasure.
Obviously, however, this is only an incidental effect, which could not be
prevented without a miracle; while the main design is to produce happiness
and guard against evil.

It may be asked, however, by what principle we can determine what is the
design of a contrivance, and what the incidental effect. Why select a
part of the effects, and call them the object aimed at by the contriver,
while we regard others as incidental, and merely permitted, not intended?

The principle on which we make this distinction is very clear. We judge of
the design of a contrivance by its predominant tendencies and effects. If
evil as often results as good, misery as often as happiness, we could not
decide whether the design was benevolent or malevolent, or an indifference
to both. But the benevolent tendency and effects of every natural
contrivance are so obvious, and so immensely outweigh all its evil
results, that we are compelled to admit the design of the Author of nature
to be benevolent. And, therefore, when we see evil occasionally result
from such contrivances, we are authorized to say that this is only an
incidental effect; not, indeed, wholly undesigned, for we cannot doubt
that God has a design in the permission of all evil. But for each
particular arrangement and movement in nature we can discover a
predominant and benevolent object.

Take another example from the human frame. In that frame we find a
multitude of organs, nearly all of which are obviously adapted to a
particular use. Now, the anatomist cannot lay his finger upon one of them,
and say, This was intended to produce derangement and suffering in the
system. Here is a muscle contrived to clog the operations of its
neighbors; here a blood-vessel adapted to corrupt the blood and produce
disease; here a gland whose object is to secrete a poisonous fluid, to
contaminate the whole system; here a nerve made to produce pain; here a
plexus of vessels suited to bring on disease. On the contrary, this
anatomist perceives at once that all the organs of the animal system, and
their collocation, are fitted in the best possible manner to produce
health. It is obvious at a glance that this is their design.

But if such be the fact, how happens it that so few persons pass through
life without disease? Is it all to be imputed to an abuse and perversion
of the organs and powers of life? Not so, in my opinion. But those organs
are all liable to disease; and when we see how delicate and complicated
they are, we ought not to wonder that even the unavoidable causes of
derangement should often bring it on. Yet, after all, health is the rule
and the object, and disease only the exception. But I shall say more on
this subject in another part of the argument.

Some one, however, who hears me, has doubtless ere this had his thoughts
recur to the organs of carnivorous animals, the poisonous fangs of
serpents, and the organs of the scorpion, the tarantula, and of insects,
for the generation and protrusion of deadly poison. Here we have organs
expressly provided for the destruction of other animals. That such is
their design, no physiologist can doubt; and hence they are intended to
produce suffering, and not happiness.

Is this an exactly correct statement of the case? True, suffering is the
result of such organs; but the arrangement is intended to accomplish still
higher purposes. The leading one is to procure food for sustenance, the
other is self-defence. Both of these are essential to the animal's
continued existence. That suffering should be incidentally connected with
instruments or organs so important, is no more difficult to explain than
is the existence of evil any where. The object even of these contrivances,
then, is beneficial. And if so, I know of no other example in nature so
seemingly adverse to the position I have laid down, that the main object
of every natural contrivance is benevolent in its origin and results. If
this be so, how clearly does it indicate the character of the contriver to
be benevolent!

My second argument is derived from the fact that the organic functions
often produce pleasure where suffering was just as consistent with their
most perfect action; or I might say that such are the arrangements of the
natural world, that pleasure often results to sentient beings from its
operations, when they might have been as perfectly performed with the
production of pain. A few illustrations will render the meaning of this
position obvious.

As we look abroad upon nature, one of the most striking traits we discover
is its unbounded variety. With the Psalmist we involuntarily exclaim, _O
Lord, how manifold are thy works!_ It is not merely variety as to form,
texture, attitude, and arrangement; but who can describe the countless
tints of coloring which are spread over the heavens and the earth? Now,
there is in the human soul an aptitude to be pleased with variety; nay,
there is a craving for it. Nor can there be a more terrible infliction
than unvarying monotony and sameness of appearance, arrangement, and
action. If, therefore, the Creator had been malevolent, or indifferent to
the happiness of man and other sentient beings, he might have gratified
this disposition most perfectly by giving to the human soul its present
love of variety, and then spreading over the face of nature a dead
uniformity of figure, position, arrangement, and coloring; forming every
thing upon the same model. And this might have been done without impairing
at all the perfect operation of all her laws that are essential. Every
thing might have been as systematic and harmonious as it now is; but
sentient beings would have been miserable; and this must have been
supremely gratifying to infinite malevolence. He might also have so
constructed the organs of hearing, sight, and smell, that every sound
might have been ungrateful and grating, every odor repulsive, and every
prospect disgusting. While hunger would have urged animals, as it now
does, to seek food, its reception might have been painful, or utterly void
of gustatory enjoyment. So in regard to social enjoyments; we might have
been irresistibly drawn towards our fellow-men, and yet their society
might have been hateful in the extreme.

Had such a state of things existed, how very clearly we should have
inferred the malevolence of the Author of nature! Or if such a state had
been witnessed about as often as its opposite, we might reasonably have
said that he was indifferent to the happiness of his creatures. Why, then,
may we not, with equal reason, infer his benevolence, when we find, in a
vast majority of cases,--nay, for aught I know, universally,--that
pleasure is superadded to animal enjoyment where it was wholly unnecessary
to the perfect operation of nature's laws?

The fact is, God has made all nature "beauty to our eye and music to our
ear," when it was wholly unnecessary for the perfect operation of her
laws; and the inference is irresistible, that he delights in the happiness
of his creatures. Nor can the fact that evil exists in the world destroy
the force of this argument, unless that evil is so general as to be
obviously the design of the Creator in devising and arranging the system
of the world. While we admit its existence, we say that it is only
incidental, and that pleasure is so often superadded unnecessarily, as to
prove happiness to be the design, and evil the exception.

The two arguments above presented are the evidence on which Dr. Paley
relies to prove the divine benevolence. They are, indeed, as it seems to
me, unanswerable. But if I mistake not, they do by no means exhaust the
storehouse of nature's proofs of this fundamental principle of natural
and revealed religion. I derive a third argument for the predominance of
benevolence in the works of nature from the variety of means often
provided for the performance of important functions; so that animals and
plants can adapt themselves to different circumstances, and prolong their
existence.

The examples which I have in mind to illustrate this argument are all
derived from the organic world. I refer, for instance, to the fact that
nearly all our muscles, and many other important organs, as the hands, the
feet, the eyes, and the lungs, are in pairs, so that if one meets with an
injury, or is destroyed, the other can, to some extent, perform the office
of both. The brain has two hemispheres, and one of them may be seriously
wounded without destroying the healthy action of the other.

But perhaps the most appropriate example is in the blood-vessels, whose
inosculations are so numerous that even though large arteries and veins be
tied, the blood will find its way through the smaller ones, which
ultimately will so enlarge as to keep up the circulation nearly as well as
before the injury. And, in fact, almost every one of the large
blood-vessels has been tied by the surgeon with little ultimate injury to
the patient.

In the process of deglutition, or swallowing the nourishment essential to
the existence of all the more perfect animals,--since the food and the air
for respiration pass for a time through a common opening, the pharynx,--it
is extremely important that the passage to the lungs should be most
vigilantly guarded; since strangulation would follow the introduction
there of any thing but air. Accordingly, the entrance of the glottis is so
sensitive, that the approach of the food causes it to close. But lest this
security should sometimes fail, we have an additional guard in the
epiglottis, which shuts down like a valve upon the orifice. Even with this
double precaution, strangulation sometimes follows the act of deglutition.
How much oftener would it occur, had not benevolence thus multiplied its
vigilant sentinels at the point of danger!

Another illustration of this argument lies in the fact, that many of the
organs of animals and plants possess the power, when an exigency requires
it, of greatly increasing their action. When, for instance, an unusual
quantity of osseous matter is requisite to repair a broken bone, the
glands, whose office it is to elaborate that matter, are capable of
secreting an extraordinary quantity, until the injury is repaired.

Of an analogous character is the sympathy existing between the different
organs, so that when one has an unusual amount of labor to perform, the
rest impart of their nervous energy to sustain their overtasked companion.
Thus, and thus only, could animals be carried through many of the severe
exigencies of their existence. Their organs help one another, just as if
they were conscious of one another's necessities, and were prompted by
benevolence to aid the weakest.

In like manner, some of the organs possess the power of vicarious
secretion; that is, of producing, in peculiar circumstances, secretions
that are usually made by other glands. How they can do this, and how they
can know when to do it, are among the mysteries of physiology.
Nevertheless, the object of this arrangement is most obvious, viz., the
continuance of health and life in spite of accidents, which would
otherwise prove fatal.

The same vicarious system is manifest in the well-known examples, where
the loss of one or more of the senses gives increased acuteness to the
rest. The sense of touch, for instance, in the blind man, has sometimes
proved no mean substitute for eyes; and, indeed, any of the senses by
cultivation, in peculiar exigencies, may be prodigiously strengthened.

Now, in all these cases, where the vicarious principle is brought into
operation, or sympathy concentrates the power of many organs in one, or
the loss of one organ or sense quickens the sensibility of the rest, do we
not recognize the prospective care and kindness of infinite benevolence?
Do you say that it merely shows infinite wisdom, which adjusts means to
ends with consummate skill, in order to be sure of success in its designs?
Why, then, I inquire, should these provisions for trying exigencies in the
animal system always tend to the happiness of the creature? Surely there
were other means at the command of infinite wisdom for securing the
existence of the animal, which would bring misery upon it instead of
happiness. The benevolent tendency of the design, therefore, proves the
benevolent feelings of the designer.

The extraordinary provisions that are made in some cases for the
multiplication of animals and plants, in order to prevent the extinction
of any races, and to give life and happiness to as many animals as can be
sustained, is another indication of benevolent care on the part of the
Creator. Not less than five modes of reproduction are known to exist,
viz., the viviparous, the ovo-viviparous, the oviparous, the gemmiparous,
and the fissiparous; and among the lowest families of animals several of
these modes exist in the same species, so that their extinction, or even
deficient multiplication, is scarcely possible.

The same benevolence is manifested in the power possessed by animals and
plants to adapt themselves to different circumstances. Often are they
thrown into conditions widely diverse as to food, temperature, and
exposure to chemical and mechanical agencies, with no possibility on their
part of avoiding them. This is eminently true of man; and were not animals
able to adapt themselves to these various states, they must perish. True,
there are limits to this adaptation; but they are wide enough to
accomplish the great purposes of existence, and to make us comfortable and
happy amid great changes in our condition. Nor is this power of adaptation
among animals limited to their physical nature. Their mental habits admit
of an oscillation equally wide, so that, ere long, we become happy in a
condition which at first was painful in the extreme. New habits take the
place of the old ones so gradually that we scarcely realize the change.

Now, if this power were not possessed in such a world as ours, could
organic natures not bend at all to circumstances, constant suffering and
premature dissolution would be the result. The power of adaptation,
therefore, looks like the benevolent provision of a kind Father, who
wishes to make his creatures as happy as he can in the circumstances in
which his wisdom has placed them. Certainly, malevolence, or indifference
to their happiness, would not have introduced this power of adaptation
into their natures; for it is certain that their continued existence might
have been secured in some other way, had no reference been had to their
happiness.

I base my fourth argument for the predominance of benevolence, in the
arrangements of nature, upon the aggregate results of the most destructive
and terrific agencies which she employs.

The immediate effects of these agencies are often so appalling and so
unmixed with good, that men view them only as penal inflictions; or, when
the sufferers are unconscious of guilt, as mysterious dispensations of
evil, which need the light of another world to reconcile with infinite
benevolence. When the tornado or sirocco's hot breath sweeps over the
devoted land; when the river overflows its banks, and ingulfs the
defenceless inhabitants along its course, or the giant waves of the ocean
roll in upon the devoted shore; when the heaving earthquake overturns in a
moment vast cities, and the earth swallows them in its bosom; or when the
volcano pours out its suffocating smoke and its scorching lava, and
obliterates from earth the defenceless town, as once Herculaneum and
Pompeii were converted into petrified cities,--in the midst of such
desolating agencies, where can we discover a gleam of benevolence? Not
surely in the immediate effects. But suppose the tornado, the flood, the
earthquake, and the volcano are essential to the preservation of the earth
from a far wider ruin, so that, in fact, while they destroy some property
and life, they preserve a far greater amount, and are essential to such
preservation,--why is it not benevolence that gives a slight play to these
terrific elements, while it checks their wild war so soon as the requisite
security has been obtained? When the storm has sufficiently purified the
atmosphere, when the flood has enriched the wide alluvial fields, and the
earthquake and the volcano have given vent to the pent-up fires in the
earth, so that they no longer threaten to rend a continent asunder, then a
restraining power is put upon them, and they are allowed no more range
than is essential to the general good. We may not, indeed, see why the
good could not be secured without the evil. But this question leads to the
inquiry, whether the present system of the universe is the best possible;
and that it is so we have the guaranty of the divine perfections. Those
perfections admit the existence of evil; but at the same time they take
care that the aggregate result of the greatest evils should be beneficial.

Nor would we limit this position to evils springing out of the nature or
the changes of the inanimate world; for some of the severest evils are
dependent upon the organization or operation of animate nature. Man, for
instance, finds himself often grossly annoyed by some species of the
inferior animals, in his comfort, property, and even life. And he wonders
why infinite wisdom and benevolence should permit certain species to
exist, when they seem fitted only to annoy the rest. But he knows not what
he desires when he wishes their extinction. For such is the balance of
organic nature, that to strike out even one species, is like removing a
link from a chain. Once broken, every other link is affected, and the
whole chain lies useless upon the ground. Or, to speak without a figure,
if you blot out certain species of animals or plants, you disturb the
balance of the whole system of organic nature; nor can you tell where the
disturbance thus introduced will end. It may lead to the excessive
multiplication of species still more injurious than those you have
destroyed. At any rate, since the perfections of the Deity lead to the
conclusion that the existing proportion between different species is the
best, all things considered, and change in the balance must be injurious,
we may conclude, that though noxious animals and plants may produce
individual inconvenience and injury, the aggregate effects upon the whole
of organic nature are salutary, and, therefore, indicative of benevolence.

Similar reasoning will, I think, apply to the existence of that large
class of animals called carnivorous. These are evidently intended to prey
upon other animals; and for this purpose they are provided with weapons
for seizing and destroying their prey. It is often extremely painful to a
man of kind feelings to witness the scenes of blood and havoc which these
flesh-eating animals produce. But we forget two things. The first is, that
in order to keep the numbers of animated beings full in the different
tribes, it is necessary that there should be a great excess of numbers
created, to meet all the casualties to which they are exposed; and that
excess must in some way or other be removed from life. Secondly, all the
enjoyment of the carnivorous races is so much clear gain to the sum of
animal happiness; for the excess of numbers in the tribes of vegetable
feeders suffer no more in being destroyed by the carnivorous races, than
if they died in some other way; not so much, indeed, as if they perished
by famine. We may safely conclude, then, that even this system of mutual
slaughter, when viewed in all its relations, is the means, in such a world
as ours, of increasing the amount of enjoyment, and is, therefore, a
benevolent provision.

This course of reasoning may be extended, as I judge, to the greatest of
all mortal evils,--I mean death. In the case of the inferior animals, the
amount of physical or mental suffering from this cause is comparatively
small. And if they survive the change of death, surely there is
benevolence in so easy a translation. Or, if they do not exist hereafter,
the stroke of death is a small deduction from the happiness of a whole
life. In man's case, we must not take into the account the aggravations of
death which his own misconduct produces. And aside from these, what a
blessing it would be to be transferred to a more exalted state of being,
by an experience no more painful than that of a Christian dying what may
be called a natural death, by mere decay! Then, too, how much greater
happiness is the result of a succession of beings on earth, than one
undying race would enjoy, both because the successive races would be ever
passing through novel scenes, which would soon become monotonous to a
continuous race, and because, as we have already suggested, a succession
of races admits of the existence, at any one time, of a far greater number
of species! Then, too, we must not forget the salutary moral influence
which man experiences from the expectation of death; so great, indeed,
that without it, it seems doubtful whether the world would be any thing
better than a Pandemonium. In making indissoluble the connection between
sin and death, therefore, in such a system as the present, benevolence
presided with wisdom and justice in the councils of Jehovah.

But in the third lecture I have treated this whole subject so much more
fully, that I need not add any thing further in this connection.

I base my fifth and last argument, to prove the predominance of
benevolence in the present system of nature, on the fact that good so
often results from evil as a natural consequence. Or, to state the
argument in another form, good seems generally to be the object or final
cause of evil, whereas evil flows only incidentally from good.

This argument scarcely differs from the last, except in the more general
form of its statement. That brings forward certain prominent and appalling
evils, and endeavors to show that, in striking the balance of their
effects, the preponderance is on the side of benevolence. This advances a
step farther, and attempts to show that the direct object of evil is to
produce good.

It follows, hence, that the examples adduced and elucidated under the last
argument are not inappropriate to sustain and illustrate the present. Yet
others should be added.

Almost the entire history of medicine and surgery illustrates the manner
in which physical evils result in physical good. Indeed, men never resort
to the physician, or the surgeon, because their remedies and operations
are desirable, but only because they are the necessary means of health and
comfort. These means are, indeed, for the most part, of human invention,
but not, therefore, the less indicative of the divine intention; for they
are founded upon such a constitution in nature as makes it possible to
discover remedies for disease and accidents. And the characteristics of
nature's constitution are an index of the intentions of its Author.

The severe mental discipline through which the youth must pass, who would
attain distinction in learning, affords us an example of intellectual evil
resulting in intellectual wealth and happiness. The trial is too severe
for many irresolute minds, and they give over the effort, and sink down
into a state of indolence and neglect. But he who bears manfully the
discipline will at length gather the golden fruit. And he will be
satisfied, too, of the wisdom and benevolence of that law of mental
progress, which makes it impossible ever to find a royal road to the
temple of learning, and which shuts out from that temple all who shrink
from the preparatory discipline.

Still more strikingly illustrative of this argument are the evils which
men suffer as necessary precursors of moral good. These may be physical or
mental; embracing all those experiences that take the name of trials,
afflictions, and disappointments. These are often intensely bitter, and
they constitute, indeed, the master evils of life. We shudder when we see
them coming; and we often writhe in agony when in the furnace. But how
many have come out of that furnace purified from base alloy, and ready for
the service of God and the world! To do good is henceforth their delight;
and they thank God for the severe discipline. When his heavy blows fell
upon them, one after another, they felt as if they were the strokes of an
incensed Deity. But now they see that they were only the necessary
inflictions of infinite love. And they admire the wisdom that could thus
educe so much good out of so great evil.

I do not contend that good is always educed from evil in this world, or
could be; but only that, in a plurality of cases, if men improve the evils
they suffer as they might, such would be the effect. And if this be
admitted, it is sufficient to establish the general principle, that one of
the direct objects of evil in this world is to produce individual benefit.

But the converse of this proposition cannot be maintained. We cannot,
indeed, deny that evil sometimes results from good; but never as the
direct object of the latter. The effect is only incidental; that is, not
as the main object; and so a few cases of this sort cannot invalidate the
proposition which I defend.

I might multiply much more the arguments furnished by nature to prove a
predominance of benevolence in the arrangements and operations of the
present system of things. But I see no way of escaping the force of those
presented, and cannot doubt that all will admit the conclusion. I advance,
therefore to a second proposition, and maintain that _the benevolence
exhibited in the present system of nature is not unmixed_.

I mean, by this statement, that the divine benevolence exhibited in this
world is modified by other perfections. While there is a predominance of
benevolence, there are also indications of God's displeasure; or, at
least, his dealings seem to be adapted to restrain and amend a wicked
race, rather than to make an innocent and holy race happy; so that the
condition of the human family is far less happy than unmixed benevolence
would confer.

In proof of this assertion, I maintain, first, that evil is incidental to
every process and event in nature.

This is preeminently true of all those actions which we call vicious.
Indeed, they are in themselves evils of the worst kind; and not only so,
but they are connected incidentally with scarcely any thing but evil,
though sometimes, as theologians say, overruled for good.

Take next the common operations of nature, which, of course, have no moral
character. Their leading design, as we have already seen, is to produce
good to sentient beings; but incidentally they bring much evil. Food is
intended for gustatory enjoyment and for nourishment; but it is often the
occasion of severe suffering, and becomes an active poison. Gravity is
intended to hold the material universe in a proper balance, and to attach
every moving thing on earth to the surface; but it occasions a vast number
of accidents, and a vast amount of suffering. Water and fire are of
immense direct benefit; yet the first buries a vast amount of property and
life in its bosom, and the latter is scarcely less injurious in its
incidental effects. Indeed, what natural agency can be named, that is not
armed with the power to do evil?

But the same principle extends also to benevolent actions. With our views
of divine benevolence, we might expect that virtuous conduct would never
be coupled with evil. But this notion does not accord with facts; for the
incidental evils connected with benevolent action are often the most
painful in life. Indeed, in how many instances has doing good been
rewarded by the loss of life, and under all the aggravations of suffering
which malignant ingenuity could invent! And the fact has been, that those
whose motives in doing good were the purest have suffered the most.
Witness the life and the death of Him who knew no sin, and yet was led as
a lamb to the slaughter. Since wickedness in this world is sometimes
allowed to have the power of annoying goodness we might expect that the
more disinterested the latter, the more malignant and persecuting would be
the former, because its own deformity is made more manifest.

But the incidental evils connected with benevolent action are not limited
to those resulting from the malice of the wicked. If, for instance, some
huge system of iniquity has become incorporated into the very texture of
society, benevolence cannot root it out without producing many a severe
laceration of individuals, who are incidentally connected with the system,
but to whom no blame attaches. The history of the efforts that have been
made to substitute Christianity for heathenism and other false religions,
is full of examples illustrative of this principle, in conformity with the
remarkable declaration of Christ, _Think not that I am come to send peace
on earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword._ Alike prolific of
illustrations are all the great attempted reforms which the world has
witnessed, whether for delivering religion from human corruptions, or
eradicating slavery, or intemperance, or breaking the political yoke of
the oppressor. In fine, no reasonable man ought to expect to do much good
in this world, without suffering much himself and bringing some incidental
suffering upon others.

Now, although the evils that have been described are incidental, they
belong to the constitution of this world, and, therefore, show the
feelings and intentions of its Author, as much as those effects of his
works which appear to be their final causes. But do not such evils,
incidental to every event, indicate a feeling in the divine mind different
from unmixed benevolence? Strictly speaking, these evils are not penal
inflictions. But they certainly do not show in the Creator a simple desire
to promote the happiness of men, by directly conferring it. They rather
indicate a necessity, on account of some peculiarity in the character of
man, of mingling severity with goodness in the divine conduct towards him.

In thus representing incidental effects as indicative of the feelings of
the Deity, I may seem to contradict my reasoning under the first head,
where I gave, as proof of God's benevolence, the fact that the direct
object of every contrivance is beneficial, and evil only incidental. But I
did not mean to intimate that the incidental effects of a contrivance are
no index of the feelings of its author, but only that the direct effects
show more clearly than the incidental what are his wishes and intentions,
especially if the former are the most numerous, important, and striking.
Still, incidental effects are never without an object; and where they are
evil, as in the case supposed, they indicate other feelings towards men,
in the divine mind, than unmixed benevolence. For it is a strange
limitation of God's wisdom and power to say, as some do, that the evils
could not be prevented.

It may be said, however, that if men only conform to the laws of nature,
they will escape all the evils they suffer. On the other hand, I
maintain,--and this constitutes my second argument to show that the divine
benevolence is not unmixed,--I maintain that the highest virtue and the
most consummate prudence cannot avoid all the evils of life.

Such prudence and virtue will not secure any one against many destructive
natural agencies and operations to which he is exposed. Miasms productive
of fatal disease may contaminate the atmosphere we breathe, unperceived by
us; poison may exist in the food which we take as our necessary
sustenance; the mechanical violence of the elements, or of gravity, may
crush us; the lightning may smite us to the earth; the wild beast may rush
from his unnoticed lair as we pass; or the deadly insect, or serpent, may
inject its poison into our blood at an unexpected moment; or the floods
may overwhelm, or the fire consume us.

Now, although prudence and virtue may defend us against many evils, they
afford no security against such as I have named, in very many instances.
We are often ignorant of their existence or proximity till we become their
victims, and suffering, often intense, is the consequence. Indeed, the
greatest of all physical evils--I mean death--is as sure to visit every
son and daughter of Adam as any event can be; and nothing but insanity, or
its religious synonyme, fanaticism, has ever pretended to be proof against
disease and death. You cannot, indeed, point out any particular organ or
agency, whose direct object is to produce disease and death; but they are
nevertheless the inevitable result of organic operations and agencies in
such a world as this.

It will be said, perhaps, that the good resulting to the whole from even
the most severe of these sufferings, overbalances the evil, and therefore
they are indications of benevolence in such a world as ours. True, as
things are, this may be so. But the question is, Why is there such a
constitution given to nature as made it necessary to introduce disease,
accident, and death? Would not unmixed benevolence have conferred the
good, but have withheld the evil? Had there not been something in man's
character requiring the discipline of trials, would pure benevolence have
sent them? At least, we should suppose that they might all have been
avoided by prudence and virtue. Why should benevolence make such severe
drawbacks upon the happiness even of the virtuous, if something were not
radically wrong in the human constitution?

Thirdly. The great sterility of so large a part of the earth, and the
necessity of severe bodily labor to secure sustenance from it, show us
that the benevolence exhibited in nature and in man's condition is not
unmixed. Though some limited regions are exuberantly fertile, the larger
part of the earth yields up even a mere sustenance only after the severest
labor. And the vast majority of the race can do nothing more than to
obtain food for the body. The artificial state of most societies does,
indeed, keep the lower classes much more depressed than a better state of
the world would bring them into; but at the best, nature unites with
revelation in attesting the truth of the sentence passed upon man--_In the
sweat of thy face shalt thou eat thy bread._

Nor is this necessity for severe labor confined to the cultivation of the
earth, but extends to all kinds of human pursuits. Success, as a general
fact, can be secured only by vigorous industry; and often, in spite of
their most honest and persevering efforts, men fail of securing even a
competence for the support of themselves and their dependants.

Some will say that all this arises from a necessity in the very nature of
the case. But does not such a view limit the divine power and wisdom?
Could not God have prepared a world more paradisiacal than the present,
where the earth should spontaneously yield her fruits, and pour out her
hidden treasures at man's feet? Who will deny this? Why, then, has he not
done it? Because obviously a race so prone to evil as man, so incapable of
maintaining his integrity in the lap of ease and indulgence, needs all
this severe discipline to keep him where he ought to be. Here, then, we
see a reason why God must mingle seeming severity with benevolence.

The same thing is seen, in the fourth place, in the confined and depressed
condition of the human mind in this world, and in the multiplied obstacles
in the way of its cultivation and enlargement.

What a clog to the intellect is a body governed by gross appetites, and
often stopping the ingress of truth, or perverting its aspect, by
disordered and imperfect senses! Nearly one third of the time must that
intellect sink into oblivion, while sleep recruits the physical powers.
And nearly another third of life must be given to the wants of the body;
and as we have seen, the great mass of men are obliged to devote nearly
their whole time to serve the necessary wants of the body. What an
incalculable waste of mind does the world exhibit! And even when all
artificial and unnecessary obstructions are taken out of the way, what an
immense waste must it always present, while in so gross a corporeal
tenement! for were it free to exhibit its true nature, we cannot doubt its
power of unwearied and incessant activity. And such might have been its
condition here, had it pleased infinite wisdom and benevolence. But what
unmixed benevolence would have prompted, perfect wisdom would not permit
to fallen man.

I feel confident that my first two propositions are established, viz.,
that there is a predominance of benevolence in the arrangements and
operations of the present world, and yet that it is not unmixed
benevolence. I advance to a third proposition, which asserts that _the
same mixed system of good and evil, which now exists, has always prevailed
since the earth was inhabited_.

Geology shows us the true succession of events since the first appearance
of organic beings on the globe, but no chronological dates are registered
on the rocks. And it is only by observing processes in existing nature,
analogous to those whose record is engraven on the solid strata, that we
can infer that the years since life first appeared on the surface must
have been very many. But however far back in the hoary past that event
occurred, we have indisputable evidence that the same laws then controlled
the operations of nature as now, and the result was the same mixture of
good and evil.

In the crystalline structure, and in the perfect crystals of the older
rocks, we learn the laws which predominated at their production. And we
find that the same chemical, electrical, and electro-magnetical influences
presided over their formation as are now exhibited in the laboratory of
the chemist or the laboratory of nature. Now, these crystals conduct us
back much farther than the dawn of terrestrial life, though similar ones,
and produced by the same laws, are found through the whole series of
rocks, from the oldest to the newest. And I might appeal to many other
facts in the earth's history, which demonstrate an identity between the
physical laws that have controlled nature's processes in every period of
past time.

We have evidence, also, of the same identity in the laws of life, or
organic laws. In the anatomical structure of the earliest animals and
plants we find the same general type that pervades the present creation,
modified only, as it now is, to meet peculiar circumstances. This is true
not only of the osseous, but also of the muscular, circulatory, nervous,
lymphatic, and nutritive organs. Hence, as we might expect, we have
evidence of the prevalence of the same functional or physiological laws
then, as now. Respiration was performed, as it now is, and with the same
effects. Vegetable and animal food was then, as now, masticated, digested,
and assimilated; and since animals possessed the same senses, we infer
that their habits were essentially the same. There is not, indeed, any
evidence that ancient animals and plants exhibited any peculiarities of
structure or function, save those necessary to adapt them to the
circumstances, so unlike the present, in many respects, in which they
lived.

We are sure, also, that death has ever reigned over all organic nature. It
has always been produced by the same causes, and attended by the same
suffering. And its ravages were repaired by the same system of
reproduction as now exists. All this we might presume would be the case,
upon the discovery of an identity of laws, mechanical, chemical, and
organic; but we have direct evidence, also, in the countless remains of
animals and plants entombed in the rocks, more than twenty thousand
species of which have been disinterred by naturalists and described.

I might multiply facts almost without number to sustain the position, that
the same mixed system has ever prevailed upon the globe; for geology is
full of the details. But in a subsequent lecture, the subject will be more
amply discussed.

Such are the facts respecting the divine benevolence, as they are
presented in the volume of nature. Though benevolence decidedly
predominates, it is modified by other divine attributes, and ever has
been, since organic existence began upon the globe. Let us now, _in the
fourth place, see what inferences are fairly deducible from the whole
subject_. For those inferences, if I mistake not, will not only clear away
every cloud from the divine benevolence, but throw much light upon man's
condition.

In the first place, the subject shows us that the world is not in a state
of retribution.

As a general fact, virtue is to some extent rewarded, and vice to some
extent punished. But it is not always so. Indeed, the picture is sometimes
reversed apparently; and the good are afflicted because they do good, and
the wicked triumph because they do evil. Evil abounds, but it is not so
distributed as righteous retribution would award it; neither is good.
Since, therefore, God's justice must be infinitely perfect, there must be
some other object for the prevalence of good and evil in the world besides
righteous retribution.

Secondly. We learn from the subject that the world is in a fallen
condition.

I mean, that man has fallen from holiness and happiness. For the world is
evidently not such a world as infinite wisdom and benevolence would
prepare for a being perfectly holy and happy. Philosophize as we may, we
cannot discover any reason why the abode of such a being should be filled
with evils of almost every name--evils which the most consummate prudence
and the most elevated virtue cannot wholly avoid--evils which often come
upon the good man because he is eminent for holiness. But if man has
fallen from original holiness and happiness by transgression, we might
expect just such a world to be fitted up for his residence, because evil
is indissolubly linked to sin, perhaps in the very nature of things,
certainly by divine appointment. We know that it brings a curse upon every
thing with which it is connected; and here we see a reason for the blight
that has marred some of the fairest features of nature, and introduced
pain and suffering into the animal frame, and brought a cloud over man's
noble intellect, and hebetude over his moral powers. Such a fallen
condition will explain what no other supposition can, viz., the clouded,
fettered, and depressed condition of all organic nature.

Yet, thirdly. We should not infer that man's condition was hopeless, but
rather that mercy might be in store for him.

The very fact that the world is not in a state of retribution would seem
to afford hope that God had other purposes than punishment in allowing
evil to be introduced. And then the vast predominance of benevolence and
happiness around us cannot but inspire hope for the fallen.

This will be still more manifest if we infer, and can show, fourthly, that
the world is in a state of probation or trial.

By this I mean that men are placed in a condition for the trial and
discipline of their characters, in order to fit them for a higher state.
If fallen and depraved, they need to pass through such a discipline before
they can be prepared for that higher condition. And surely no one can
observe the scenes through which all pass, without being struck with their
eminent adaptedness to train man to virtue and holiness. Until we have
been pupils for a time in this school, we are not fit even for the
successive states in this life into which we pass; much less for a higher
condition. But there is a marvellous power in this discipline to prepare
us for both, as vast multitudes have testified while they lived and when
they died. Even death seems, so far as we can see, to be the only means by
which a sinful being can be delivered from his stains; and the dread of
this terrific evil is one of the most powerful restraints upon vice, and
stimulants to virtue. There is, in fact, no condition in which man is
placed, no good or evil that he meets, which is not eminently adapted, if
rightly improved, to discipline and strengthen his virtue. Hence we cannot
doubt that this is the grand object of the present arrangements of the
world. True, if misimproved, the same means become only a discipline in
vice. But this is only in conformity with a general principle of the
divine government, that the things which rightly used are highly
salutary, are proportionably injurious when perverted.

Fifthly. The subject shows us a reason why suffering and death prevailed
in this world long before man's existence.

God foresaw--I will not say foreordained, though he certainly permitted
it--that man would transgress; and, therefore, he made a world adapted to
a sinful fallen being, rather than to one pure and holy. If he had adapted
it to an unfallen being, and then changed it upon his apostasy, that
change must have amounted to a new creation. For, as I have endeavored to
show in a previous lecture, (Lecture III.,) the whole constitution of our
world, and even its relations to other worlds, must have been altered to
fit it for a being who had sinned. To have introduced such a one into a
world fitted up for the perfectly holy, would have been a curse instead of
a blessing. It was benevolence on the part of God to allow evil to abound
in a world which was to be the residence of a sinful creature; for the
discipline of such a state was the only chance of his being rescued from
the power of sin, and restored to the divine favor.

It may be thought, however, inconsistent with divine benevolence to place
the inferior, irrational animals in a condition of suffering because man
would transgress, and thus punish creatures incapable of sinning for his
transgression.

Animals do, indeed, suffer in such a world as ours; but not as a
punishment for their own or man's sin. The only question is, Do they
suffer so much that their existence is not a blessing? Surely experience
will decide, without inquiring as to their future existence, that their
enjoyments, as a general fact, vastly outweigh their sufferings; and hence
their existence indicates benevolence. It should also be recollected that
their natures are adapted to a world of sin and death, and they are
doubtless more happy here than they would be in a different condition,
which might be more favorable to unfallen accountable beings.

Finally. This subject harmonizes infinite and perfect benevolence in God
with the existence of evil on earth.

This is the grand problem of theology; and though I would not say that our
reasoning clears it of all difficulties, yet it does seem to me that, by
letting the light of this subject fall upon the question, we come nearer
to its solution than by viewing it in any other aspect. For this subject
shows us that benevolence decidedly predominates in all the arrangements
of the material universe, and then it assigns good reasons why this
benevolence is not unmixed; in other words, why severity is sometimes
mingled with goodness. It shows us that God, with a prospective view of
man's sin, adapted the world to a fallen being; making it, instead of a
place of unmingled happiness, a state of trial and discipline; not as a
full punishment, (for that is reserved to a future state,) but as an
essential means of delivering this immortal being from his ruin and
misery, and of fitting him for future and endless holiness and happiness.
Thus, instead of indicating indifference or malevolence in God, because he
introduced evil into the world, it is a striking evidence of his
benevolence. Such a plan is, in fact, the conjoint result of infinite
wisdom and benevolence for rescuing the miserable and the lost. Had God
placed such a being in a world adapted to one perfectly holy, his
sufferings would have been vastly greater, and his rescue hopeless.

Thus far do both reason and revelation conduct us in a plain path; and
that, probably, is as far as is necessary for all the purposes of
religion. Up to this point, infinite benevolence pours its radiance upon
the path, and we see good reasons for the evils incident to this life;
nay, we see that they are the result of that same benevolence which strews
the way with blessings; that, in fact, they are only necessary means of
the greatest blessings. I am aware that there is a question lying farther
back, in the outskirts of metaphysical theology, which still remains
unanswered, and probably never can be settled in this world, because some
of its elements are beyond our reach. The inquisitive mind asks why it was
necessary for infinite wisdom and power to introduce evil, or allow it to
be introduced, into any system of created things. Could not such natures
have been bestowed upon creatures, that good only might have been their
portion? A plausible answer is, that evil exists because it can ultimately
be made subservient of greater good, taking the whole universe into
account, than another system. Certainly to fallen man we have reason to
believe natural evils are the grand means of his highest good; and hence
we derive an argument for the same conclusion in respect to the whole
system of evil. Indeed, such are the divine attributes, that it is absurd
to suppose God would create any system which was not the best possible in
existing circumstances. But even though we cannot solve these questions in
their abstract form, and as applied to the whole creation, it is
sufficient for every practical purpose of religion if we can show, as we
have endeavored to do in this lecture, how the present system of the world
for a fallen being illustrates, instead of disproving, the divine
benevolence.

Here, then, is the resolution of some of the darkest enigmas of human
existence, which philosophy, unaided by revelation, has never solved. Here
we get hold of the thread that conducts us through the most crooked
labyrinths of life, and enables us to let into the deepest dungeons of
despondency and doubt, the light of hope and of heaven.

Here, too, we find the powerful glass by which we can pierce the clouds
that have so long obscured the full-orbed splendors of the divine
benevolence. To some, indeed,--and they sagacious philosophers,--that
cloud has seemed surcharged only with vengeance. And even to those who
have caught occasional glimpses of the noble orb behind, the cloud over
its face has always seemed to be tinged with some angry rays. Indeed, so
long as this is a sinful state, justice will not allow all the glories of
the divine goodness to be revealed. And yet, through the glass which
philosophy and faith have put into our hands, we can see that the disk is
a full-orbed circle, and that no spots mar and darken its clear surface.
How gloriously, then, when all those clouds shall have passed away, and
the last taint of evil shall have been blotted out by the final
conflagration, shall that sun, in the new heavens, send down its light and
heat upon the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness!

On the other hand, how sad the prospect which the analogies of this
subject open before him who misimproves his earthly probation, and goes
out of the world unprepared for a higher and purer state of existence! If
we can see reasons why on earth God should mingle goodness and severity in
this man's lot, we can also see reasons why the manifestations of
benevolence should all be withdrawn when he passes into a state of
retribution. For if an individual can resist the mighty influences for
good which the present state of discipline affords, and only become worse
under them all, his case is utterly hopeless, and Heaven can do no more,
consistently with the eternal principles of the divine government, to
save him. Infinite benevolence gives him over, and no longer holds back
the sword of retributive justice. Nay, the justice which inflicts the
punishment is only benevolence in another form. And this it is that makes
the infliction intolerable. How much more terrible to the wayward child
are the blows inflicted by a weeping, affectionate father, than if
received from an enemy! God is that affectionate Father; and he punishes
only because he loves the universe more than the individual; and he has
exhausted the stores of infinite mercy in vain to save him. Wicked men
sometimes tell us that they are not afraid to trust themselves in the
hands of infinite benevolence; whereas it is eminently this quality of the
divine character which, above all others, they have reason to fear. For
if, even in this world of probation and hope, God finds it necessary to
mingle so much severity with goodness, what but a cup of unmingled
bitterness shall be put into his hands who goes into eternity unrenewed
and unpardoned, and finds that even infinite benevolence has become his
eternal enemy!




LECTURE VIII.

UNITY OF THE DIVINE PLAN AND OPERATION IN ALL AGES OF THE WORLD'S HISTORY.


Contrivance, adaptation, and design are some of the most striking features
of the natural world. They are obvious throughout the whole range of
creation, in the minutest as well as in the most magnificent objects; in
the most complicated as well as in the most simple. So universally present
are they, that whenever we meet with any thing in nature which seems
imperfectly adapted to other objects, as the organ of an animal or plant,
which exhibits malformation, it excites general attention, and the mere
child need not be told that, in its want of adaptation to other objects,
it is an exception in the natural world.

In order to illustrate what I mean by contrivance, adaptation, and design,
let me refer to a familiar example--the human eye. Made up of three coats
and three humors, of solids and fluids, of nerves, blood-vessels, and
muscles, and rivalling the most perfect optical instrument, it must have
required the most consummate contrivance to give the requisite quantity
and position to parts so numerous and unlike, for producing the phenomena
of vision. Yet how perfectly it is done! How few, out of the hundreds of
millions of eyes of men and other animals, fail of vision through any
natural defect!

No less marvellous are the adaptations of the eye. In order to be adapted
to the wonderful effect which we call light, its coats and humors must be
transparent, and possess a certain density and opacity, that the rays may
form an image on the retina. Yet to prevent confusion in the image, the
transparency must be confined to the central parts of the eye, and a dark
plexus of veins and muscles must be so situated as to absorb the
scattering rays. In order to adapt the eye to different distances, and to
the greater or less intensity of the light, delicate muscles must be so
situated as to contract and dilate the pupil, and lengthen and shorten the
axis. That the eye might be directed to different objects, strong muscles
must be attached to its posterior surface; and that the eyelid might
defend it from injuries in front, a very peculiar muscle must give it
power to close. No less perfect is the adaptation of the eye to the
atmosphere, or, rather, there is a mutual adaptation; and it is as proper
to say that the atmosphere is adapted to the eye, as that the eye is
adapted to the atmosphere. In like manner, there is a striking relation
between the eye and the sun and other heavenly bodies, and between the eye
and day and night; so that we cannot doubt but they were made for one
another. We might, indeed, extend the relations of the eye to every object
in the universe; and the same may be said of every organ of plants and
animals. The adaptation between them is as wide as creation. And it is the
wonderful harmony between so many millions of objects that makes us feel
that infinite wisdom alone could have produced it.

The design of the multiplied contrivances and adaptations exhibited by the
eye is too obvious to need a formal statement. Comparatively few
understand the wonderful mechanism of the eye; but we should consider it
proof of idiotism, or insanity, for the weakest mind to doubt what is the
object of the eye. This is, to be sure, a striking example. But out of
the many organs of animals, how few are there of which we do not see the
design! And as the subject is more examined, the few excepted cases are
made still fewer. They are more numerous in plants, because we cannot so
well understand them, and because of their microscopic littleness. They
are so few, however, throughout all nature, that they never produce a
doubt that, for every individual thing in creation, there is a distinct
object. If we confine our views to the most simple parts of matter, we can
see design in them. If we take a wider view, and examine those minor
systems which are produced by the grouping of the elements of matter, we
shall see design there; and if we rise still higher in our examination,
and compare systems still more extensive, until we group all material
things, wise and beautiful design is still inscribed upon all. In fine,
creation is but a series of harmonies, wheel within wheel, in countless
variety, yet all forming one vast and perfect machine. Examine nature as
widely and as minutely as we may, we never find one part clashing with
another part; no laws, governing one portion of creation, different from
those governing the others. Amid nature's infinitely diversified
productions and operations we find but one original model or pattern. As
Dr. Paley finely expresses it, "We never get amongst such original or
totally different modes of existence as to indicate that we are come into
the province of a different Creator, or under the direction of a different
will." All appears to have been the work of one mighty mind, capable of
devising and creating the vast system so perfectly that every part shall
beautifully harmonize with every other part; a mind capable of holding in
its capacious grasp at once the entire system, and seeing the relation and
dependence of all its parts, from the minutest atom up to the mightiest
world. In short, the unity of design which pervades all creation is
perfect, more so than we witness in the most finished machine of human
construction; for

  "In human works, though labored on with pain,
  A thousand movements scarce one object gain;
  In God's, one single can its end produce,
  Yet serves to second too some other use."

Such are the wonderful contrivance, adaptation, and design which the
material world every where exhibits. But the geologist carries us back
through periods of immense antiquity, and digs out from the deep strata
evidences of other systems of organic life, which have flourished and
passed away; other economies, which have existed on the globe anterior to
the present. And how was it with these? Had they any relation to the
existing system? Were they governed by different laws, or are they all but
parts of one great and harmonious system, embracing the whole of the
earth's past duration? We could not decide these questions beforehand; but
geology brings to light unequivocal evidence that the latter supposition
is the true one; that is, in the language of the poet,--

  "All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
  Whose body nature is, and God the soul."

To present the evidence of this conclusion will be my object in this
lecture.

_In the first place, the laws of chemistry and crystallography,
electricity and magnetism, have ever been the same in all past conditions
of the earth._

Chemistry has attained to such a degree of perfection that the analyst
can now determine the composition of the various vegetable, animal, and
mineral substances which he meets, with an extreme degree of accuracy. In
many instances, he can do this in two ways. He can always separate the
elements which exist in a compound, and ascertain their relative quantity;
and this is called _analysis_. And sometimes he can take those elements
and cause them to unite, so as to form a particular compound; and this is
called _synthesis_. By these methods he has ascertained that, amid the
vast variety of substances in nature, there are only about sixty-four
which cannot be reduced to a more simple form, and are therefore called
_elements_, or simple substances. Now, the chemist finds that, when these
elements unite to form compounds, certain fixed laws are invariably
followed. They combine in definite quantities, which are always the same,
or some multiple of the same weight; so that each element has its peculiar
and invariable combining weight; and it cannot be made to combine in any
other proportion. You may mix two or more elements together in any
proportion, but it is only a certain definite quantity of each that will
combine, while the rest will remain in excess. Hence the same compound
substance, from whatever part of the world it comes, or under however
diverse circumstances produced, consists of the same ingredients in the
same proportion. These laws are followed with mathematical precision, and
we have reason to believe that the same compound substance, produced in
different parts of the world, never differs in its composition by the
smallest conceivable particle. Indeed, with the exception of the planetary
motions and crystallography, chemical combination is the most perfect
example of practical mathematics to be found in nature.

Such are the laws which the chemist finds invariably to regulate all the
changes that now take place in the constitution of bodies. What evidence
is there that the same laws have ever prevailed? In the rocks we have
chemical compounds, produced in all ages of the world's history, since
fire and water began to form solid masses. Now, these may be, and have
been, analyzed; and the same laws of definite proportion in the
ingredients, which now operate, are found to have controlled their
formation. The oldest granite and gneiss, which must have been the
earliest rocks produced, are just as invariable in their composition as
the most recent salt formed in the laboratory. And the same is true of the
silicates, the carbonates, the sulphates, the oxides, chlorides,
fluorides, and other compounds which constitute the rocks of different
ages. We never find any produced under the operation of different laws.

Now, the almost invariable opinion among chemists is, that the reason why
the elements unite thus definitely is, that they are in different
electrical states, and therefore attract one another. Hence the most
important laws of electricity have been coeval with those of chemistry;
indeed, they are identical; nor can we doubt, if such be the fact, that
every other electrical law has remained unchanged from the beginning. And
from the intimate connection, if not complete identity, between
electricity and magnetism, it is impossible to doubt that the laws which
regulate the latter are of equal antiquity with those of the former.
Indeed, we find evidence in all the rocks, especially those which are
prismatic and concretionary, of the active influence of galvanism and
electro-magnetism in their production.

The reasoning is equally decisive to prove the unchanging character of the
laws which regulate the formation of crystals. The chemist finds that the
same substance, when it crystallizes, invariably takes the same
geometrical forms. The nucleus or primary form, with a few exceptions, of
no importance in the present argument, to which all these secondary forms
may be reduced by change, is one particular solid, with unvarying angles;
and all the secondary forms, built upon the primary, correspond in their
angles. In short, in crystallography we have another example of perfect
practical mathematics, as perfect as the theory.

Now, the oldest rocks in the globe contain crystals, and so do the rocks
of all ages, sometimes of the same kind as those produced in the chemist's
laboratory. And they are found to correspond precisely. It matters not
whether they were the produce of nature's laboratory countless ages ago,
or of the skill of the nineteenth century,--the same mathematics ruled in
their formation with a precision which infinite wisdom alone could secure.

_In the second place, the laws of meteorology have ever been the same as
at present._

Under meteorological laws I include all atmospheric phenomena. And
although we have no direct proof from geology in respect to the more rare
of these phenomena, such as the aurora borealis and australis, and
transient meteors, yet in respect to the existence of clouds, wind, and
rain, the evidence is quite striking. In several places in Europe, and in
many in this country, are found, upon layers of the new red sandstone, the
distinct impressions of rain drops, made when the rock was fine mud. They
correspond precisely with the indentations which falling rain-drops now
make upon mud, and they show us that the phenomena of clouds and storms
existed in that remote period, and that the vapor was condensed as at
present. In the fact that the animals entombed in the rocks of various
ages are found to have had organs of respiration, we also infer the
existence of an atmosphere analogous to that which we now breathe. The
rain-drops enable us to proceed one step farther; for often they are
elongated in one direction, showing that they struck the ground obliquely,
doubtless in consequence of wind. In short, the facts stated enable us to
infer, with strong probability, that atmospheric phenomena were then
essentially the same as at present; and analogy leads us to a similar
conclusion as to all the past periods of the world's history, certainly
since animals were placed upon it. What a curious register do these
rain-drops present us! an engraving on stone of a shower that fell
thousands and thousands of ages ago! They often become, too, an
anemoscope, pointing out the direction of the wind, while the petrified
surface shows us just how many drops fell, quite as accurately as the most
delicate pluviameter. What events in the earth's pre-Adamic history would
seem less likely to come down to us than the pattering of a shower?

_In the third place, the agents of geological change appear to have been
always the same on the earth._

Whoever goes into a careful examination of the rocks will soon become
satisfied that no fragment of them all remains in the condition in which
it was originally created. Whatever was the original form in which matter
was produced, there is no longer any example of it to be found. The
evidence of these changes is as strong almost as that constant changes are
going on in human society. And we find them constantly progressing among
the rocks, as well as among men; nor do the agents by which they are
produced appear to have been ever different from those now in operation.
The two most important are heat and water; and it is doubtful whether
there is a single particle of the globe which has not experienced the
metamorphic action of the one or the other. Indeed, it is nearly certain
that every portion of the globe has been melted, if not volatilized. All
the unstratified rocks have certainly been fused, and probably all the
stratified rocks originated from the unstratified, and have been modified
by water and heat. In many of these rocks, especially the oldest, we
perceive evidence of the joint action of both these agents. Evidently they
were once aqueous deposits; but they appear to have been subsequently
subjected to powerful heat. As we ascend on the scale of the stratified
rocks, the marks of fire diminish, and those of water multiply, so that
the latest are mere mechanical or chemical depositions from water.

In these facts, then, we see proof that heat and water have been the chief
agents of geological change since the first formation of a solid crust on
the globe; for some of the rocks now accessible, as already stated, date
their origin at that early period. We might also trace back the agency of
heat much farther, if the hypothesis adopted by not a few eminent
geologists be true, which supposes the earth to have been once in a
gaseous state from intense heat. But to press this point will add very
little to my argument, even could I sustain it by plausible reasoning. I
will only say, that, so far as we know any thing of the state of the earth
previous to the consolidation of its crust, heat appears to have been the
chief agent concerned in its geological changes.

Among other agencies of less importance, that have always operated
geologically, is gravity. Its chief effect, at present is to bring the
earth's surface nearer and nearer to a level, by causing the materials,
which other agencies have loosened from its salient parts, to subside into
its cavities and valleys. It also condenses many substances from a gaseous
to a liquid or solid state, especially those deep in the earth's crust,
and thus brings the particles more within the reach of cohesive
attraction and chemical affinity, often changing the constitution, and
always the solidity, of bodies. And in the position of the ancient
mechanical rocks, occupying as they do the former basins of the surface,
and in the superior consolidation of the earlier strata, we find proof of
the action of gravity in all past geological time.

Electricity too, in the form of galvanism, has never been idle. We have
reason to think that it operates at this moment in accumulating metallic
ores in veins; and this segregation appears to have operated in all ages,
not only in filling veins, but also, probably, in giving a laminated
character and jointed structure to mountains of slate, as well as a
concretionary and prismatic form to others.

Last, though not least, we may reckon among the agents of geological
change the forces of cohesion and affinity. When water and heat, gravity
and galvanism, have brought the atoms of bodies into a proper state, these
agents are always ready to change their form and constitution; and they
have ever been at hand to operate by the same laws, and we witness their
effects in the oldest as well as the newest rocks found in the earth's
crust. This point, however, has been sufficiently considered, when
treating of the unvarying uniformity of the laws of chemistry and
crystallography.

But though the nature of the agencies above considered has never changed,
the intensity or amount of their action has varied; how much is a point
not yet settled among geologists. Some regard that intensity, as it has
existed during the present or alluvial period, as a standard for all
preceding periods; that is, the intensity of these forces has never varied
more during any period of the earth's history than it has since the
alluvial period commenced. Most geologists, however, regard this as an
extreme opinion, and think they see evidence in geology of a far greater
intensity in these agencies in past periods than exists at present. They
think they have proof that the world was once only a molten mass of
matter, and some evidence that previously it was in a state of vapor. They
believe that vast mountains, and even continents, have sometimes been
thrown up from the ocean's bed by a single mighty paroxysmal effort; and
such effects they know to be far greater than the causes of change now in
operation can produce, without a vast increase of their intensity. But
this question need neither be discussed nor decided for the sake of my
present argument, since my object is to prove an identity in the nature
and laws, not in the intensity, of geological agencies.

_In the fourth place, the laws of zoology and botany have always been the
same on the globe._

An examination of the animals now living, amounting to some hundred
thousand species, perhaps to one or two millions, shows that they may be
arranged in four great classes. The first class embraces the vertebral
animals, distinguished by having a vertebral column, or back-bone, a
regular skeleton, and a regular nervous system. It comprehends all the
quadrupeds and bipeds, with man at their head, and is much superior to all
other classes in complexity of organization and strength of the mental
powers. The second class embraces the mollusks, or animals inhabiting
shells. They are destitute of a spinal marrow, and for the most part their
muscles are attached to the external covering, called the shell, although
this shell is sometimes internal. The third class are called articulated
animals, having envelopes connected by annulated plates, or rings. It
includes such animals as the lobster, bloodsucker, spider, and insects
generally. The fourth class have a radiated structure, and often resemble
plants, or their habitation is a stony structure. Hence they are sometimes
called zoophytes, which means _animal plants_; or lithophytes, which means
_stony plants_. They swarm in the ocean, and some of them build up those
extensive stony structures called coral reefs.

Now, if we examine the descriptions of the organic remains in the rocks,
we find that in all ages of the world these four great classes of animals
have existed. But in the earliest times, the three last classes--the
mollusks, the articulated, and the radiated tribes--vastly preponderated,
while the vertebral class had only a few representatives; and it is not
till we rise as high as the new red sandstone, that we meet with any,
except fishes, save a few batrachians in the old red sandstone, and the
carboniferous group, detected alone by their tracks. Then the reptiles
began to appear in abundance, with tortoises and enormous birds of a low
organization, but no mammiferous animal is found, until we reach the
oolite; and scarcely any till we rise to the tertiary strata, when they
became abundant; but not so numerous as at present, though for the most
part of larger size. Thus we find that the more perfect animals have been
developed gradually, becoming more and more complex as we rise on the
scale of the rocks. But in the three other classes, there does not appear
to have been much advance upon the original types, although in numbers and
variety there has been a great increase.

The plants now growing upon the globe, amounting probably to nearly one
hundred thousand species, are divided into two great classes, by a very
decided character. Some of them have distinct flowers, and others are
destitute of them. The former are called phenogamian, or flowering plants;
and the latter cryptogamian, or flowerless plants.

At present, the flowering plants very much predominate in the flora of
every country. But in the earliest periods of organic existence, the
reverse was the case. We find, indeed but very few flowering plants, and
these of a character somewhat intermediate between flowering and
flowerless; such as the coniferae and cycadeae, including the pine tribe. A
few palms appeared almost as early, and some other monocotyledons. But
most of the dicotyledons did not appear till the tertiary period, where
more than two hundred species have been found. Of the three hundred
species found in and beneath the carboniferous group, two thirds are tree
ferns, or gigantic equisetaceae. More than one third of the entire flora of
the secondary formation consists of cycadeae; whereas, this family of
plants forms not more than the two thousandth part of the existing flora.
In short, we find the more perfect plants as well as animals to be few in
the earliest periods, and to have been gradually introduced up to the
present time. But as to the flowerless plants, most of them seem to have
been as perfect at first as they now are.

These facts teach us conclusively that the outlines of organic life on the
globe have always been the same; that the great classes of animals and
plants have always had their representatives, and that the variations
which have been introduced, have been merely adaptations to the varying
condition of the earth's surface. The higher and more complex natures,
both of animals and plants, were not introduced at first, because the
surface was not adapted to their existence; and they were brought in only
as circumstances, favorable to their development, prepared the way.

There is another fact of great interest on this subject. Even a cursory
examination of the animals and plants now on the globe, shows such a
gradation of their characters that they form a sort of chain, extending
from the most to the least perfect species. But we see at once that the
links of this chain are of very unequal length; or, rather, that there are
in some instances wide intervals between the nearest species, as if one or
more links had dropped out. How remarkable that some of these lost links
should be found among the fossil species! I will refer to a few examples.

Among existing animals no genera or tribes are more widely separated than
those with thick skins, denominated pachydermata; such as the rhinoceros
and the elephant. But among the fossil animals of the tertiary strata,
this tribe of animals was much more common; and many of them fill up the
blanks in the existing families, and thus render more perfect and uniform
the great chain of being which binds together into one great system the
present and past periods of organic life.

A similar case occurs among fossil plants. In tropical climates we find a
few species--not much over twenty--of a singular family of plants, the
cycadeae connecting the great families of coniferae, or dicotyledons, with
the palms, which are monocotyledonous, and the ferns, which are
acotyledonous. The chasm, however, between those great and dissimilar
classes of plants is but imperfectly filled by the few living species of
cycadeae. But of the fossil species hitherto found above the coal
formation, almost one half are cycadeae; so that here, too, the lost links
of the chain are supplied.

"Facts like these," says Dr. Buckland, "are inestimably precious to the
natural theologian, for they identify, as it were, the Artificer, by
details of manipulation throughout his works. They appeal to the
physiologist, in language more commanding than human eloquence; the voice
of very stocks and stones, that have been buried for countless ages in the
deep recesses of the earth, proclaiming the universal agency of one
all-directing, all-sustaining Creator, in whose will and power these
harmonious systems originated, and by whose universal providence they are,
and have at all times been, maintained."--_Bridgewater Treatise_, vol. i.
p. 502.

One other fact, showing the identity of former zoological laws with those
which now prevail, must not be omitted. I refer to the existence on the
globe in all past periods of organic life of the two great classes of
carnivorous and herbivorous animals; and they have always existed, too, in
about the same proportion. To the harmony and happiness of the present
system, we know that the existence and proper relative number of these
different classes are indispensable. For in order that the greatest
possible number of animals that live on vegetable food should exist, they
must possess the power of rapid multiplication, so that there should be
born a much larger number than is necessary to people the earth. But if
there existed no carnivorous races to keep in check this redundancy of
population, the world would soon become so filled with the herbivorous
races that famine would be the consequence, and thus a much greater amount
of suffering result than the sudden death inflicted by carnivorous races
now produces. To preserve, then, a proper balance between the different
species is, doubtless, the object of the creation of the carnivorous. This
system has been aptly denominated "the police of nature." And we find it
to have always existed. The earliest vertebral animals--the sauroid fishes
and sharks--were of this description. The sharks have always lived, but
the sauroid fishes became less numerous when other marine saurians were
created; and when they both nearly disappeared, during the tertiary
period, other predaceous families were introduced, more like those now in
existence.

The history of the mollusks, or animals inhabiting shells, furnishes us
with an example still more striking. These animals, as they now exist, are
divisible into the two great classes of carnivorous and herbivorous
species, being distinguished by their anatomical structure; and so has it
ever been. In the fossiliferous rocks below the tertiary, we find immense
numbers of nautili, ammonites, and other kindred genera of polythalamous
shells, called cephalopods, which were all carnivorous. And when they
nearly disappeared with the cretaceous period, there was created another
race with carnivorous propensities and organs, called trachelipods; and
those continue still to swarm in the ocean. Had they not appeared when the
cephalopods passed away, the herbivorous tribes would have multiplied to
such an extent as ultimately to destroy marine vegetation, and bring on
famine among themselves.

These examples are sufficient to prove the existence of the carnivorous
and herbivorous races in all ages and in about the same relative numbers.
And it certainly furnishes most decisive evidence of the oneness of all
these systems of organic life on the globe.

_In the fifth place, the laws of anatomy have always been the same since
organic structures began to exist._

It had long been known that the organs of animals were beautifully adapted
to perform the functions for which they were intended. But it was not till
the investigations of Baron Cuvier, within the last half century, that it
was known how mathematically exact is the relation between the different
parts of the animal frame, nor how precise are the laws of variation in
the different species, by which they are fitted to different elements,
climates, and food. It is now well known, that each animal structure
contains a perfect system of correlation, and yet the whole forms a
harmonious part of the entire animal system on the globe. But the
language of Cuvier himself will best elucidate this subject, so far as it
is capable of popular explanation.

"Every organized individual," says he, "forms an entire system of its own;
all the parts of which mutually correspond, and concur to produce a
certain definite purpose, by reciprocal reaction, or by combining towards
the same end. Hence none of these separate parts can change their forms
without a corresponding change in the other parts of the same animal, and
consequently each of these parts, taken separately, indicates all the
other parts to which it has belonged. Thus, if the viscera of any animal
are so organized as only to be fitted for the digestion of recent flesh,
it is also requisite that the jaws should be so constructed as to fit them
for devouring prey; the claws must be constructed for seizing and tearing
it to pieces; the teeth for cutting and dividing its flesh; the entire
system of the limbs, or organs of motion, for pursuing and overtaking it;
and the organs of sense, for discovering it at a distance. Nature, also,
must have endowed the brain of the animal with instinct sufficient for
concealing itself, and for laying plans to catch its necessary victims.

"In order that the jaw may be well adapted for laying hold of objects, it
is necessary that its condyle should have a certain form; that the
resistance, the moving power, and the fulcrum, should have a certain
relative position with respect to each other, and that the temporal
muscles should be of a certain size; the hollow, or depression, too, in
which these muscles are lodged, must have a certain depth; and the
zygomatic arch, under which they pass, must not only have a certain degree
of convexity, but it must be sufficiently strong to support the action of
the masseter.

"To enable the animal to carry of its prey when seized, a corresponding
force is requisite in the muscles which elevate the head; and this
necessarily gives rise to a determinate form of the vertebrae, to which
these muscles are attached, and of the occiput into which they are
inserted.

"In order that the teeth of a carnivorous animal may be able to cut the
flesh, they require to be sharp, more or less so in proportion to the
greater or less quantity of flesh which they have to cut. It is requisite
that their roots should be solid and strong, in proportion to the greater
quantity and size of the bones which they have to break to pieces. The
whole of these circumstances must necessarily influence the development
and form of all the parts which contribute to move the jaws.

"To enable the claws of a carnivorous animal to seize its prey, a
considerable degree of mobility is necessary in their paws and toes, and a
considerable strength in the claws themselves. From these circumstances,
there necessarily result certain determinate forms in all the bones of
their paws, and in the distribution of the muscles and tendons by which
they are moved. The fore arm must possess a certain facility of moving in
various directions, and consequently requires certain determinate forms in
the bones of which it is composed. As the bones of the fore arm are
articulated with the arm bone, or humerus, no change can take place in the
form or structure of the former, without occasioning correspondent changes
in the form of the latter. The shoulder-blade, also, or scapula, requires
a correspondent degree of strength in all animals destined for catching
prey, by which it likewise must necessarily have an appropriate form. The
play and action of all these parts require certain proportions in the
muscles which set them in motion, and the impressions formed by these
muscles must still farther determine the form of all these bones.

"After these observations it will easily be seen that similar conclusions
may be drawn with respect to the hinder limbs of carnivorous animals,
which require particular conformations to fit them for rapidity of motion
in general; and that similar considerations must influence the forms and
connections of the vertebrae and other bones constituting the trunk of the
body, and to fit them for flexibility and readiness of motion in all
directions. The bones, also, of the nose, of the orbit, and of the ears,
require certain forms and structures to fit them for giving perfection to
the senses of smell, sight, and hearing, so necessary to animals of prey.
In short, the shape and structure of the teeth regulate the forms of the
condyle, of the shoulder-blade, and the claws, in the same manner as the
equation of a curve regulates all its other properties; and as, in regard
to a particular curve, all its properties may be ascertained by assuming
each separate property as the foundation of a particular equation, in the
same manner a claw, a shoulder-blade, a condyle, a leg, an arm bone, or
any other bone, separately considered, enables us to discover the
description of teeth to which they have belonged; and so, also,
reciprocally, we may determine the form of the other bones from the teeth.
Thus commencing our investigations by a careful survey of any one bone by
itself, a person who is sufficiently master of the laws of organic
structure may, as it were, reconstruct the whole animal to which that bone
had belonged."

After applying the same principle to animals with hoofs, Cuvier comes to a
conclusion even more surprising. "Hence," says he, "any one who observes
merely the print of a cloven hoof, may conclude that it has been left by a
ruminant animal, and regard the conclusion as equally certain with any
other in physics or in morals. Consequently this single footmark clearly
indicates to the observer the forms of the teeth, of all the leg bones,
thighs, shoulders, and of the trunk of the body of the animal which left
the mark. It is much surer than all the marks of Zadig.

"By thus employing the method of observation, where theory is no longer
able to direct our views, we procure astonishing, results. The smallest
fragment of bone, even the most apparently insignificant apophysis,
possesses a fixed and determinate character relative to the class, order,
genus, and species of the animal to which it belonged; insomuch that when
we find merely the extremity of a well-preserved bone, we are able, by a
careful examination, assisted by analogy and exact comparison, to
determine the species to which it once belonged, as certainly as if we had
the entire animal before us. Before venturing to put entire confidence in
this method of investigation, in regard to fossil bones, I have very
frequently tried it with portions of bones belonging to well-known
animals, and always with such complete success, that I now entertain no
doubts with regard to the results which it affords."

The remarkable correlation between the parts of existing animals having
been thus proved by the most rigid and satisfactory tests, we shall
inquire with interest for the result, when Cuvier applied the same
principles to the fossil animals. If the laws of anatomical structure were
the same when these extinct races lived as they now are, these principles
will apply equally well to the bones found in the rocks; and though often
only scattered fragments are brought to light, the anatomist will be able
to reconstruct the whole animal, and present him to our view. Cuvier was
the first who solved this problem. The quarries around Paris had furnished
a vast number of bones of strange animals, and these were thrown
promiscuously into the collections of that city. Well prepared by previous
study, this distinguished anatomist went among them with the inquiry, _Can
these bones live?_ The spirit of scientific prophecy was upon him, and, as
he uttered his inspirations, _there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and
the bones came together, bone to his bone. And the sinews and the flesh
came upon them, and the skin covered them._ "I found myself," says he, "as
if placed in a charnel-house, surrounded by mutilated fragments of many
hundred skeletons of more than twenty kinds of animals, piled confusedly
around me. The task assigned me was to restore them all to their original
position. At the voice of comparative anatomy, every bone and fragment of
a bone resumed its place. I cannot find words to express the pleasure I
experienced in seeing, as I discovered one character, how all the
consequences which I predicted from it were successively confirmed; the
feet were found in accordance with the characters announced by the teeth;
the teeth in harmony with those indicated beforehand by the feet; the
bones of the legs and thighs, and every connecting portion of the
extremities, were found set together precisely as I had arranged them,
before my conjectures were verified by the discovery of the parts entire;
in short, each species was, as it were, reconstructed from a single one of
its component elements."

It is hardly necessary to say that, since this first successful
experiment, the same principles have been more thoroughly investigated and
extended with the same success into every department of fossil organic
nature. The results which have crowned the labors of such men as Agassiz,
Ehrenberg, Kaup, Goldfuss, Bronn, Blainville, Brongniart, Deshayes, and
D'Orbigny, on the continent of Europe, and of Conybeare, Buckland,
Mantell, Lindley, and Hutton, and eminently of Owen, in Great Britain,
although sustained by the most rigid principles of science, are
nevertheless but little short of miraculous; and they demonstrate most
clearly the identity of anatomical laws, in all ages, among animals and
plants of every size and character, from the lofty lepidodendra and
sigillaria to the humblest moss or sea-weed, and from the gigantic
dinotherium, mastodon, megatherium, and iguanodon, to the infinitesimal
infusoria.

_In the sixth place, physiological laws have always been the same upon the
globe._

That death has reigned in all past ages over all animated tribes, as it
now reigns, so that in that war there has never been a discharge, I need
not attempt formally to prove. For the preserved and petrified relics of
all the former races, that now lie entombed in the rocks, furnish a silent
but impressive demonstration of the former triumph of that great
physiological law, which is stamped by the signet of Jehovah upon all
existing organic natures--_Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou
return._

Scarcely more necessary is it to attempt to show that the same system of
reproduction for filling the chasms which death occasions, and which is
now universal in the animal and vegetable kingdoms, has always existed.
Indeed, such a system is a necessary counterpart to a system of
dissolution. And we find the same phases to this reproductive system in
ancient and in modern periods. Organic remains clearly teach us that there
have always been viviparous as well as oviparous creatures, and
gemmiparous as well as fissiparous animals and plants. The second great
physiological law of existing nature has, then, always been the same.

The character of the nourishment by which animals and plants have been
sustained has never varied. The latter have ever been nourished by
inorganic, and the former by organic, matter. Some animals have ever fed
upon the flesh of other animals, as their petrified remains, enclosing the
masticated and half-digested fragments of other animals, testify. Other
tribes have fed only upon herbs or fruits; and some were omnivorous; just,
in fact, as we find the habits of existing animals.

No less certain are we that the processes of digestion and assimilation
have ever been unchanged. We find the same organs for these purposes as in
existing animals, viz., the mouth, the stomach, the intestines, and the
blood-vessels, as the coprolites and the cololites abundantly testify. We
infer, therefore, with great confidence, the existence of gastric juice
and bile for completing the transformation of the food into blood. Indeed,
the discovery by a lady (Miss Mary Anning, of England) of that singular
secretion from which the color called _India ink_ is prepared, with the
ink-bag of the sepia, or loligo, in a petrified state, shows that the
process of secretion existed in these ancient animals; and when we find
that in all respects their structure was like that of existing animals,
although some of the softer vessels have not been preserved, we cannot
doubt but the entire process of digestion, and the conversion of blood
into bone, nerve, and muscle, was precisely the same as it now is.

In the fact, also, that we find in fossil specimens organs of respiration,
such as lungs, gills, and trachea, we learn that the process of a
circulation of blood, and its purification by means of the oxygen of the
atmosphere, have never varied. Animal heat, too, dependent as it is
essentially upon this oxygenating process, was always derived from the
same source as at present.

The perfectly preserved minute vessels of vegetables enable us, by means
of the microscope, to identify them with the plants now alive; and they
prove, too, incontestably, that the nourishment of vegetables has always
been of the same kind, and has been converted into the various proximate
principles of plants by the same processes.

Again. We have evidence that these ancient animals possessed the same
senses as their congeneric races now on the globe. We have one good
example in which that most delicate organ, the eye, is most perfectly
preserved. It is well known that the visual organ of insects and of
crustaceans is composed of a multitude--often several hundreds or
thousands--of eyes, united into one, so as to serve the purpose of a
multiplying glass; each eye producing a separate image of the object
observed. Such an eye had the trilobite. Each contained at least four
hundred nearly spherical lenses on the surface of the cornea, united into
one organ; revealing to us the interesting fact, that the relations of
light to animal organization were the same in that remote era as they now
are.

But I need not multiply proof of the functional identity of organic nature
in all ages. It may, however, be inquired, how this identity, as well as
that of anatomical structure, is reconciled with the great anomalies, both
in size and form, which have confessedly prevailed among ancient animals.
Compare the plants and animals which now occupy the northern parts of the
globe with those which flourished there in the remote periods of
geological history, and can we believe them to be portions of one great
system of organic nature?

Compare, for instance, the thirty or forty species of ferns now growing to
the height of a few inches, or one or two feet, in Europe and this
country, with the more than two hundred species already dug out of the
coal mines, many of which were forty to forty-five feet in height; or the
diminutive ground pines, and equiseta, now scarcely noticed in our
forests, with the gigantic lepidodendron, sigillaria, calamites, and
equiseta, of the carboniferous period; and who will not be struck with the
great difference between them?

Or go to Germany, and imagine the bones of the dinotherium to start out of
the soil, and become clothed with flesh and instinct with life. You have
before you a quadruped eighteen feet in length, and of proportional
height, much larger than the elephant, and with curved tusks reaching two
or three feet below its lower jaw, while no other living animal would be
found there larger than the ox, or the horse--mere pygmies by the side of
such a monster, and evidently unfit to be his contemporaries.

Again. Let the megatherium be brought back to life on the pampas of South
America, and you have an animal twelve feet long and eight feet high, with
proportions perfectly colossal. Its fore feet were a yard long, its thigh
bone three times thicker than that of the elephant, its width across the
haunches five feet, its spinal marrow a foot in diameter, and its tail,
where it was inserted into the body, two feet in diameter. What a giant in
comparison with the sloth, the anteater, and the armadillo, to which it
was allied by anatomical structure!

Still more unequal in size, as compared with living batrachians, was the
labyrinthidon, once common in England and Germany, if, indeed, the tracks
on sandstone were made by that animal. It was, in fact, a frog as large as
an ox, and perhaps as large as an elephant. Think of such animals swarming
in our morasses at the present day!

But coming back from Europe, and turning our thoughts to the animals that
trod along the shores of the estuary that once washed the base of Mount
Holyoke, in New England, we shall encounter an animal, probably of the
batrachian family, of more gigantic proportions. It was the _Otozoum
Moodii_, a biped, with feet twenty inches long, more than twice the size
of those of the labyrinthidon; yet its tracks on the imperishable
sandstone show that such a giant once trod upon the muddy shore of that
ancient estuary.

Along that same shore, also, enormous struthious birds moved in flocks,
making strides from three to five feet long, with feet eighteen inches
long, lifting their heads, it may be, from twelve to eighteen feet above
the ground, surpassing, as it appears, even the gigantic dinornis of New
Zealand, now that the feet of the latter have been discovered. I refer to
the _Brontozoum giganteum_, whose tracks are so common on the new red
sandstone of the Connecticut valley. What dwarfs are we in comparison, who
now consider ourselves lords of that valley!

Still more remarkable for peculiarities of structure was the tribe of
saurians, which were once so numerous in the northern parts of Europe and
America. The ichthyosaurus, a carnivorous marine reptile, sometimes thirty
feet long, had the snout of a porpoise, the teeth of a crocodile, the head
of a lizard, the vertebrae of a fish, the sternum of an ornithorhynchus,
and the paddles of a whale. Those paddles, corresponding to the fins of a
fish, or the web feet of water birds, were composed, each of them, of more
than one hundred bones. In short, we find in this animal a combination of
mechanical contrivances, which are now found among three distinct classes
of the animal kingdom. Its eye, also, having an orbital cavity, in one
species, of fourteen inches in its longest diameter, was proportionally
larger than that of any living animal.

The plesiosaurus had the general structure of the ichthyosaurus; but its
neck was nearly as long as its whole body--longer, in proportion to its
size, than even that of the swan.

The iguanodon was an herbivorous terrestrial reptile that formerly
inhabited England. It approaches nearest in structure to the iguana, a
reptile four or five feet long, inhabiting the marine parts of this
continent. Yet the iguanodon was thirty feet long, with a thigh six feet,
and a body fourteen feet in circumference. What an alarm would it now
produce, to have such a monster start into life in the forests of England,
where no analogous animal could be found more than half a foot in length!
Surely this must have been one of the fabulous monsters of antiquity.

Still more heteroclitic and unlike existing nature was the pterodactyle, a
small lizard, contemporary with the ichthyosaurus and plesiosaurus. At one
time anatomists regarded it as a bird, at another as a bat, and finally as
a reptile, having the head and neck of a bird, the body and tail of a
quadruped, the wings of a bat, and the teeth of a saurian reptile. With
its wings it could fly or swim; it could walk on two feet or four; with
its claws it could climb or creep. "Thus," says Dr. Buckland, "like
Milton's fiend, all qualified for all services, and all elements, the
pterodactyle was a fit companion for the kindred reptiles that swarmed in
the seas, or crawled on the shores of a turbulent planet."

                                        "The fiend,
  O'er bog, or steep, through straight, rough, dense, or rare,
  With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way,
  And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies."

Now, when the details of such facts are brought before us, it is very
natural to feel that it is the history of monsters, and that the
Centaurs, the Gorgons, and Chimeras of the ancients, are no more unlike
existing animals than these resurrections from the rocks. But further
examination rectifies our mistake, and we recognize them as parts of one
great system. All the peculiarities of size, and structure, and form,
which we meet, we find to be only wise and benevolent adaptations to the
different circumstances in which animals have been placed. The gigantic
size of many of them, compared with existing races, may be explained by
the tropical, or even ultra tropical character of the climate; and not a
single anomaly of structure and form can be pointed out, which did not
contribute to the convenience and happiness of the species, in the
circumstances in which they were placed. It is our ignorance and narrow
views alone that give any of them the aspect of monsters. Listen to the
opinion of Sir Charles Bell, one of the ablest of modern anatomists. "The
animals of the antediluvian world," says he, "were not monsters; there is
no _lusus_, or extravagance. Hideous as they appear to us, and like the
phantoms of a dream, they were adapted to the condition of the earth when
they existed." "Judging by these indications of the habits of the animals,
we acquire a knowledge of the condition of the earth during their period
of existence; that it was suited at one time to the scaly tribe of the
lacertae, with languid motion; at another, to animals of higher
organization, with more varied and lively habits; and, finally, we learn
that, at any period previous to man's creation, the surface of the earth
would have been unsuitable to him."--_Bridgewater Treatise_, pp. 35 and
31.

A similar view is given of this subject by England's geological poet,
(Rev. Mr. Wilks,) in whose playful verses we find more of true science and
just inference than in many a ponderous tome of grave prose. In one of
his poems he says,--

                                "Seamy coal,
  Limestone, or oolite, and other sections,
  Give us strange tidings of our old connections;
  Our arborescent ferns, of climate torrid,
  With unknown shapes of names and natures horrid;
  Strange ichthyosaurus, or iguanodon,
  With many more I cannot verse upon,--
  Lost species and lost genera; some whose bias
  Is chalk, marl, sandstone, gravel, or blue lias;
  Birds, beasts, fish, insects, reptiles; fresh, marine,
  Perfect as yesterday among us seen
  In rock or cave; 'tis passing strange to me
  How such incongruous mixture e'er could be.
  And yet no medley was it: each its station
  Once occupied in wise and meet location.
  God is a God of order, though to scan
  His works may pose the feeble powers of man."

The facts and reasonings which have now been presented will sustain the
following important inferences:--

_In the first place, we learn that the notions which have so widely
prevailed, in ancient and modern times, respecting a chaos, are without
foundation._

Among all heathen nations of antiquity, the belief in a primeval chaos was
almost universal; and from the heathen philosophers it was transmitted to
the Christian world, and incorporated with the Mosaic cosmogony. It is
not, indeed, easy to ascertain what is the precise idea which has been
attached to a chaos. It is generally described, however, as "a confused
assemblage of elements," "an unformed and undigested mass of heterogeneous
matter;" not, of course, subject to those laws which now govern it, and
which have arranged it all in beautiful order, even if we leave out of
the account vegetable and animal organization. Now, I have attempted to
show that there never was a period on the globe when these laws, with the
exception of the organic, did not operate as they now do. Nay, the
geologist, when he examines the oldest rocks, finds the results of these
laws at the supposed period when chaos reigned; that is, in the earliest
times of our planet. And what are these results? The most splendid
crystallizations which nature furnishes. The emerald, the topaz, the
sapphire, and other kindred gems, were elaborated during the supposed
chaotic state of the globe; for no earlier products have yet been
discovered than these most perfect illustrations of crystallographical,
chemical, and electrical laws. If, indeed, any should say, that by a chaos
they mean only that state of the world when no animals or plants
existed,--in other words, when no organic laws had been established,--to
such a chaos I have no objection. And this is the chaos described in the
Bible, where it is said that, before the creation of animals and plants,
the earth was _without form and void_. The _tohu vau bohu_ of Moses, which
is thus translated in our English Bible, means, simply and literally,
_invisible and unfurnished_--_invisible_, both because the ocean covered
the present land, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and
_unfurnished_, because as yet no organic natures had been called into
existence. This is the meaning which the old Jewish writers, as Philo and
Josephus, attached to these words; and they have been followed by some of
the ablest modern commentators. "It is wonderful," says Rosenmuller the
elder, "that so many interpreters could have persuaded themselves that it
was possible to detect a chaos in the words [Hebrew]. That notion
unquestionably derived its origin from the fictions of the Greek and Latin
poets, which were transferred by those interpreters to Moses. If we
follow the practice of the language, the Hebrew phrase has this
signification: _The earth was waste and desert_, or, as others prefer,
_empty and vacuous_; that is, _uncultured and unfurnished_ with those
things with which the Creator afterwards adorned it."--_Antiquiss. Tell.
Hist._ p. 19-23.

Upon the whole, there is no evidence whatever, either in nature or
revelation, that the earth has ever been in a state corresponding to the
common notions of a chaos; while, on the other hand, there is strong proof
that the present laws of nature have been in operation from the beginning.
These laws have varied in the intensity of their action, and we have
strong reason to believe that organic laws did not always exist; but none
of these laws have ever been suspended, to leave the elements to mix in
wild disorder in a formless mass. It is high time that religion was freed
from the indescribable incubus of a chaos.

_Finally, the most important conclusion to which the mind is conducted by
this subject is, that the present and past conditions of this world are
only parts of one and the same great system of infinite wisdom and
benevolence._

We have seen that the same wise and benevolent laws, organic and
inorganic, have always controlled, as they now control, this lower world.
It is true we find modified conditions of the globe in its past history;
but they were always the foreseen result of the same laws, and in harmony
with the same great plan. And the modifications of organic structure,
which were great in the successive economies, were always in perfect
correspondence with the earth's physical changes. Nowhere do we meet with
conflicting plans; but throughout all nature, from the earliest zoophyte
and sea-weed of the silurian rocks to the young animals and plants that
came into existence to-day, and from the choice gems that were produced
when the earth was without form and void, to the crystals which are now
forming in the chemist's laboratory, one golden chain of harmony links all
together, and identifies all as the work of the same infinite mind.

"In all the numerous examples of design which we have selected from the
various animal and vegetable remains that occur in a fossil state," says
Dr. Buckland, "there is such a never-failing identity in the fundamental
principles of their construction, and such uniform adoption of analogous
means to produce various ends, with so much only of departure from one
common type of mechanism as was requisite to adapt each instrument to its
own especial function, and to fit each species to its peculiar place and
office in the scale of created beings, that we can scarcely fail to
acknowledge in all these facts a demonstration of the unity of the
intelligence in which such transcendent harmony originated; and we may
almost dare to assert that neither atheism nor polytheism would ever have
found acceptance in the world, had the evidences of high intelligence and
unity of design which have been disclosed by modern discoveries in
physical science been fully known to the authors or the abetters of
systems to which they are so diametrically opposed. It is the same
handwriting that we read, the same system and contrivance that we trace,
the same unity of object and relation to final causes which we see
maintained throughout, and constantly proclaiming the unity of the great
divine original."--_Bridgewater Treatise_, p. 584.

"The earth, from her deep foundations, unites with the celestial orbs,
that roll throughout boundless space, to declare the glory and show forth
the praise of their common Author and Preserver; and the voice of natural
religion accords harmoniously with the testimonies of revelation, in
ascribing the origin of the universe to the will of one eternal and
dominant intelligence, the almighty Lord and supreme First Cause of all
things that subsist; _the same yesterday, to-day, and forever, before the
mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were made,
God from everlasting and without end_."--_Bridgewater Treatise_, p. 596.




LECTURE IX.

THE HYPOTHESIS OF CREATION BY LAW.


In all ages of the world, where men have been enlightened enough to reason
upon the causes of phenomena, a mysterious and a mighty power has been
imputed to the laws of nature. A large portion of the most enlightened men
have felt as if those laws not only explain, but possess an inherent
potency to continue, the ordinary operations of nature. Most men of this
description, however, have thought that to originate nature must have
demanded the special exercise of an infinite and all-wise Being. But a
few, in every age, have endeavored to exalt law into a Creator, as well as
Controller, of the world. The hypothesis has assumed a great variety of
forms, and until recently few have attempted to draw it out in all its
details, and apply it to all nature. Among the ancient philosophers it was
based on the eternity of matter, and made the foundation of a system of
rank atheism. Starting with the position, as an axiom, that nothing
produces nothing,--in other words, that creation out of nothing is
impossible,--Democritus maintained that all existence was the result of
two necessary and self-existent principles, viz., space, infinite in
extent, and atoms, infinite in number. The latter have been eternally in
motion, in directions varying from right lines; and their necessary
collisions have produced the various forms of organic and inorganic
nature. To produce animals and plants, it was only necessary that the
atoms should be suitably arranged. The only animating principle was the
rapid agitation of atoms.

In modern times, very few philosophers have ventured to solve the whole
problem of the universe by any self-acting, self-producing power in
nature. La Place limited himself to the mode in which the great bodies of
the universe were produced by the vertical movements of nebulous matter;
although his object, equally with that of Democritus and Epicurus, was to
dispense with an intelligent, personal Deity. Lamarck, Geoffrey St.
Hilaire, and Bory St. Vincent, assuming the existence of matter and its
laws, have endeavored to show, by the inherent vitality of some parts of
matter, how the first or lowest classes of animals and plants may have
been produced; and how, from these, by the theory of development and the
force of circumstances, all the higher families, with their instincts and
intellects, may have been evolved. A still more recent, but anonymous,
writer has had the boldness to unite these nebular hypotheses, with those
of spontaneous generation and transmutation, into a single system, and to
attempt to clothe it with the garb of philosophy; nay, to do this in
consistency, not only with Theism, but with a belief in revelation. This
theory is what I denominate the _hypothesis of creation by law_. And
judging from its wide reception, we should be led to infer that it had
strong probabilities in its favor. It should, therefore, at least receive
a careful and candid examination. For though many of its statements and
conclusions are absurd, and some of them are highly ridiculous, the
hypothesis, at least in some of its parts, falls in with certain loose
notions that have got possession of the public mind, and which nothing but
cogent reasoning can eradicate.

Before entering upon such an examination, however, it seems necessary to
go somewhat more into detail in illustration of the nature of this
hypothesis. It may conveniently be described under the heads of
_cosmogony_, which attempts to account for the origin of the world;
_zoogony_, which explains the origin of animals; and _zoonomy_, which
describes the laws of animal life.[17]

The cosmogony of this theory is embraced in what is denominated the
nebular hypothesis, propounded by the eminent mathematician La Place. He
supposes that, originally, the whole solar system constituted only one
vast mass of nebulous matter, being expanded into the thinnest vapor and
gas by heat, and more than filling the space at present occupied by the
planets. This vapor, he still further supposes, had a revolution from west
to east on an axis. As the heat diminished by radiation, the nebulous
matter must condense, and consequently the velocity of rotation must
increase, and an exterior zone of vapor might be detached; since the
central attraction might not be able to overcome the increased centrifugal
force. This ring of vapor might sometimes retain its original form, as in
the case of Saturn's ring; but the tendency would be, in general, to
divide into several masses, which, by coalescing again, would form a
single mass, having a revolution about the sun, and on its axis. This
would constitute a planet in a state of vapor; and by the detachment of
successive rings might all the planets be produced. As they went on
contracting, by the same law, satellites might be formed to each; and the
ultimate result would be solid planets and satellites, revolving around
the sun in nearly the same plane, and in the same direction, and also on
their axes.

Although this hypothesis has been regarded with favor by many
philosophers, who were Theists, and even Christians, yet the object of La
Place in proposing it was to sustain atheism. Sir Isaac Newton had
expressed the conviction that "the admirable arrangement of the solar
system cannot but be the work of an intelligent and most powerful Being."
La Place declared that, in this statement, Newton "had deviated from the
method of true philosophy," and brought forward these views to sustain his
declaration. Whether they do sustain it, will be considered in another
place. But since it is one of those modes in which men have attempted to
account for the universe without a Deity, it is a proper subject of
examination in this lecture, in which we are inquiring whether law alone
will account for the creation and sustentation of the universe.

The zoogony of this hypothesis undertakes to show how animals and plants
may be produced without any special exercise of creating power on the part
of the Deity. It supposes matter to be endowed with certain laws, whose
operation alone will determine life in brute matter, or, rather, whose
operation constitutes life. Some would have it that a part of matter is
essentially vital; that is, endowed with inherent life; and that this
matter, like leaven, communicates life to dead matter arranged in a
certain order. But the more modern view is, that life is produced by
electrical agency. It is found that the fundamental form of organic beings
is a globule, having another globule forming within it. It is also found
that globules may be produced in albumen by electricity; and if we could
discover how nature produces albumen, it is thought that the whole process
by which living organisms are produced would be distinctly before us. It
seems to be simply the operation of electricity, and requires no
intervention of special creating energy. If the question arises, Whence
came such marvellous laws to exist in nature? the atheist replies that
matter and its laws are eternal, having neither beginning nor end; while
the Theist, who maintains this hypothesis, asserts that, when God created
matter, he endowed it with such laws, having an inherent, self-executing
power.

Having thus ascertained, as it supposes, how life and organization in the
simplest forms may be produced, the next inquiry is, how the more perfect
and complicated forms of organic beings may be developed by laws, without
divine power. This constitutes the zoonomy of the subject. The French
zoologist, Lamarck, first drew out and formally defended this hypothesis,
aided by others, as Geoffroy St. Hilaire and Bory St. Vincent. Their
supposition was, that there is a power in nature, which they sometimes
denominated the Deity, yet did not allow it to be intelligent and
independent, but a mere blind, instrumental force. This power, they
supposed, was able to produce what they called _monads_, or rough draughts
of animals and plants. These monads were the simplest of all organic
beings, mere aggregations of matter, some of them supposed to be
inherently vital. And such monads are the only things ever produced
directly by this blind deity. But in these monads there was supposed to
reside an inherent tendency to progressive improvement. The wants of this
living mass of jelly were supposed to produce such effects as would
gradually form new organs, as the hands, the feet, and the mouth. These
changes would be aided by another principle, which they called the _force
of external circumstances_, by which they meant the influence upon its
development of its peculiar condition; as, for instance, a conatus for
flying, produced by the internal principle, would form wings in birds; a
conatus for swimming in water would form the fins and tails of fishes; and
a conatus for walking would form the feet and legs of quadrupeds. Thus the
organs were not formed to meet the wants, but by the wants, of the animal
and plant. Of course, new wants would produce new organs; and thus have
animals been growing more and more complicated and perfect from the
earliest periods of geological history. Man began his course as a monad,
but, by the force of Lamarck's two principles, has reached the most
elevated rank on the scale of animals. His last condition before his
present was that of the monkey tribe, especially that of the orang-outang.
The advocates of this hypothesis generally, however, suppose that there
are from three to fifteen species of men, and that the different races are
not mere varieties of one species. The most perfect species, the
Caucasian, after leaving the monkey state, has gradually risen through the
inferior species, and is still making progress; so that we cannot tell
where they will stop. In general, the advocates of this hypothesis are
materialists; that is, they do not suppose that there is a soul in man,
distinct from the body, but that thought is one of the functions of the
brain. They usually also regard moral qualities as mainly dependent upon
organization, agreeably to the opinions of ultra phrenologists; and hence
that they are more to be pitied than blamed for their deviations from
rectitude.

Such is the hypothesis. Let us now, in the first place, assume it to be
proved, and see what inferences follow.

_I remark, first, that the occurrence of events according to law does not
remove the necessity of a divine contriving, superintending, and
sustaining Power._

That every event in the universe takes place according to fixed laws I am
ready to admit. For what is a natural law? Nothing more nor less than the
uniform mode in which divine power acts. In the case of miracles, it may
be that the ordinary laws of nature are suspended or counteracted; at
least, they are increased or diminished in their power. Yet from what we
know of the divine perfections, we must conclude that God has certain
fixed rules by which he is regulated in the performance of miracles; and,
of course, in the same circumstances we should expect the same miracles.
So that we may reasonably admit that even miracles are regulated and
controlled by law, like common events; though, from the infrequency of the
former, men cannot understand the laws that regulate them.

Now, if the advocates of this hypothesis mean simply that every event is
regulated by law,--in other words, that with like antecedents like
consequents will be connected,--I have no controversy with them; and such
is the precise statement of a modern anonymous popular writer on the
subject.

He declares that his "purpose is, to show that the whole revelation of the
works of God presented to our senses and reason is a system based on what
we are compelled, for want of a better term, to call _law_; by which,
however, is not meant a system independent or exclusive of the Deity, but
one which only proposes _a certain mode of his working_."--_Sequel to the
Vestiges of Nat. Hist. of Creation_, p. 2.--But this is by no means all
that is meant by this hypothesis. Nay, the grand object of the writer
above quoted is, to show that there is no such thing as miraculous
interference in the creation or preservation of the universe. He admits
only the ordinary laws of nature, but denies all special and extraordinary
laws; and says that it does not "appear necessary that God should exercise
an immediately superintending power over the mundane economy."--_Vestiges_,
p. 273.--Nay, he denies that the original creation of the universe and of
animals and plants required any thing but the operation of natural laws;
of such laws as we see and understand. The thought does not seem to have
occurred to him, that special and miraculous acts of the Deity may be as
truly governed by law as the motions of planets. Every thing of that sort
he seems to regard as a violation of law,--a stepping aside from fixed
principles,--a sort of afterthought with Jehovah,--a remedy for some
defect in his original plans. True, the law of miracles and of special
providence is very different from the common course of nature; and,
therefore, the one may for a time supersede the others. But this does not
prove that the former is not regulated by laws; nor that it did not enter
into the original plan of the universe in the divine mind. It must have
been a part of that plan; every thing was a part of it, and there can be
with him no afterthought, no improvement, no alteration of his eternal
designs.

Admitting that every event, miraculous as well as common, is under law, it
by no means renders a present directing and energizing Deity unnecessary.
This hypothesis admits that organic life had a beginning, for its grand
object is to show how it began by law alone. Now, who gave to matter, in a
gaseous state, such wonderful laws that this fair world should be the
result of their operation? If it would require infinite wisdom as well as
power to create the present universe at once out of nothing, would it
demand less of contrivance and skill to impart such powers to brute
matter? It was not merely a power to produce organic natures, to form
their complicated organs, to give life, and instinct, and intellect; but
to adapt each particle, each organ, each animal, and each plant, most
exactly and most wonderfully to its place in the vast system, so that
every single thing should most beautifully harmonize with every other
thing.

Again. What is a natural law without the presence and energizing power of
the lawgiver? How easily are men bewildered by words! and none has led
more astray than this word _law_. We talk about its power to produce
certain effects; but who can point out any inherent power of this sort
which it possesses? Who can show how a law operates but through the
energizing influence of the lawgiver? How unphilosophical then to separate
a law of nature from the Deity, and to imagine him to have withdrawn from
his works! For to do this would be to annihilate the law. He must be
present every moment, and direct every movement of the universe, just as
really as the mind of man must be in the body to produce its movements.
Take away God from the universe, or let him cease to act mentally upon it,
and every movement would as instantly and certainly cease, as would every
movement of the human frame, were the mind to be withdrawn, or cease to
will. We realize the necessity of the divine presence and energy to
produce a miracle. But if miracles are performed according to law, as much
as common events,--and we surely cannot prove they are not,--why is a
present Deity any more necessary in the one case than in the other? The
Bible considers common and miraculous events exactly alike in this
respect. And true philosophy teaches the same.

I see not, then, why this law hypothesis does not require an infinite
Deity, just as much as the ordinary belief, which supposes that God
originally created the universe by his fiat, and sustains it constantly by
his power, and from time to time interferes with the regular sequence of
cause and effect by miracles. The only difference seems to be this: While
the common view represents God as always watching over his works, and
ready, whenever necessary, to make special interpositions, the law
hypothesis introduces him only at the very dawn of the universe, exerting
his infinite wisdom and power to devise and endow matter with exquisite
laws, capable, by their inherent self-executing power, of originating all
organic natures, and producing the infinite variety of nature, and keeping
in play her countless and unceasing agencies. It was only necessary that
he should impress attenuated matter with these laws, and then put the
machine in motion, and it would go on forever, without any need of God's
presence or agency; so that he might henceforward give himself up to
undisturbed repose.

I know, indeed, that La Place, and some other advocates of this latter
hypothesis, do not admit any necessity for a Deity even to originate
matter or its laws; and to prove this was the object of the nebular
hypothesis. But how evident that in this he signally failed! For even
though he could show how nebulous matter, placed in a certain position,
and having a revolution, might be separated into sun and planets, by
merely mechanical laws, yet where, save in an infinite Deity, lie the
power and the wisdom to originate that matter, and to bring it into such a
condition, that, by blind laws alone, it would produce such a universe--so
harmonious, so varied, so nicely adjusted in its parts and relations as
the one we inhabit? Especially, how does this hypothesis show in what
manner these worlds could be peopled by countless myriads of organic
natures, most exquisitely contrived, and fitted to their condition? The
atheist may say that matter is eternal. But if so, what but an infinite
mind could in time begin the work of organic creation? If the matter
existed for eternal ages without being brought into order, and into
organic structures, why did it not continue in the same state forever?
Does the atheist say, All is the result of laws inherent in matter? But
how could those laws remain dormant through all past eternity,--that is,
through a period literally infinite,--and then at length be aroused into
intense action? Besides, to impute the present wise arrangements and
organic creations of the world to law, is to endow that law with all the
attributes with which the Theist invests the Deity. Nothing short of
intelligence, and wisdom, and benevolence, and power, infinitely above
what man possesses, will account for the present world. If there is, then,
a power inherent in matter adequate to the production of such effects,
that power must be the same as the Deity; and, therefore, it is truly the
Deity, by whatever name we call it. In short, the fact that La Place did
not see that his hypothesis utterly failed to account for the universe
without a Deity, strikingly shows us, that a man may be a giant in
mathematics, while he is only a pygmy in moral reasoning; or, to make the
statement more general, how a man, by an exclusive cultivation of one
faculty of the soul, may shrivel all the rest into a nutshell.

From these views and reasonings, it is clear, I think, that the hypothesis
of creation by law does not necessarily destroy the theory of religion.
For if we admit that every thing in the world of matter and of mind, not
excepting miracles and special providences, is regulated, if not produced,
by law, it does not take away the necessity of a contriving, sustaining,
and energizing Deity. Even though we admit that God has communicated to
nature's laws, at the beginning, a power to execute themselves, (though
the supposition is quite unphilosophical,) no event is any the less God's
work, than if all were miraculous.

In consistency with this conclusion, we find that while some advocates of
this hypothesis evidently intended it to sustain atheism, its most
plausible advocate, as we have seen, fully admits, not only the divine
existence, but the reality of revelation. It may, indeed, be doubted
whether this anonymous writer has not virtually taken away the Deity, and
even moral accountability, by his materialism and his ultra-phrenology;
yet we do not see but he may assert his law system without denying God's
existence or attributes.

It must be admitted, however, that the influence of this hypothesis upon
practical religion is disastrous. It does, apparently, so remove the Deity
from all concern in the affairs of the world, and so foists law into his
place, that practically there is no God. If his agency is acknowledged, as
having put the vast machine in motion, in some indefinitely remote period
of past duration, yet the feeling is, that since then he has given up the
reins into the hands of law, so that man has nothing to do with him, but
only with nature's laws; that he has only to submit to these, and not
expect any interposition for his relief, however earnestly he cry for it.
Now, it is obviously the intention and desire of the advocates of this
hypothesis thus to remove God away from his works, and from their
thoughts; else why should they so strenuously resist the notion of
miracles? For these may just as properly be referred to law as common
events. Yet it is one of the most striking features of the hypothesis,
that it opposes strongly the idea of any special oversight and
interposition on the part of the Deity. True, when we look at the subject
philosophically, we must acknowledge that an event is just as really the
work of God, when brought about by laws which he ordains and energizes, as
by miraculous interposition. Still the practical influence of these two
views of Providence is quite different.

Whoever the author of the Vestiges may be, he has evidently lived in a
religious community, and felt the influence of a religious atmosphere; for
he tries to conform his system as much as possible to the principles of
Protestant Christianity. In other words, he feels so much the power of
practical piety around him, that he does not suffer the influence of the
system which he advocates to exhibit itself fully, nor to drive him into
those extravagances of belief which naturally result from it. In order to
see what is its natural tendency, we need to go to such a country as
Germany, or Switzerland, where there is little to restrain the wildest
vagaries of belief. In the works of Professor Lorenz Oken, of Zurich, we
see fully developed the tendencies and results of this hypothesis of
development by law, combined with the unintelligible idealism of Kant,
Fichte, Schelling, &c. In his Physio-philosophy, translated by the Ray
Society for the edification of sober, matter-of-fact Anglo-Saxons, we find
a man, of strong mind and extensive knowledge, taking the most ridiculous
positions with the stoutest dogmatism, and the most imperturbable gravity,
yet whose blasphemy is equalled only by their absurdity. Let a few
quotations illustrate and confirm this statement.

"The highest mathematical idea, or the fundamental principle of all
mathematics, is the zero == 0.

"Zero is in itself nothing. Mathematics is based upon nothing, and
consequently arises out of nothing.

"Real and ideal are no more different from each other than ice and water:
both of these, as is well known, are essentially one and the same, and yet
are different, the diversity consisting in the form. Every real is
absolutely nothing else than a number.

"The Eternal is the nothing of nature.

"There is no other science than that which treats of nothing.

"There exists nothing but nothing--nothing but the Eternal.

"Every thing in the world is endowed with life; the world itself is alive,
and continues only, maintains itself by virtue of its life.

"Man is God wholly manifested. God has become man, zero has become + --.
Man is the whole of arithmetic, compacted, however, out of all numbers; he
can, therefore, produce numbers out of himself.

"Animals are men who never imagine. They are beings who never attain to
consciousness concerning themselves. They are single accounts; man is the
whole of mathematics.

"Arithmetic is the truly absolute or divine science. Theology is
arithmetic personified.

"For God to become real, he must appear under the form of the sphere.
There is no other form for God. God manifesting is an infinite sphere.

"God is a rotating globe; the world is God rotating.

"The whole universe is material, is nothing but matter; for it is the
primary act repeating itself eternally in the centre. The universe is a
rotating globe of matter.

"There is no dead matter; it is alive through its being, through the
Eternal that is in it. Matter has no existence in itself, but it is the
Eternal only that exists in it. Every thing is God that is there, and
without God there is absolutely nothing.

"Every thing that is is material. Now, however, there is nothing that is
not; consequently there is every where nothing immaterial.

"Fire is the totality of ether, is God manifested in his totality.

"Every thing that is has originated out of fire; every thing is only
cooled, rigidified fire.

"God being in himself is gravity; acting, self-emergent light; both
together, or returning into himself, heat.

"God only is monocentral. The world is the bicentral God, God the
monocentral world, which is the same with the monas and dyas.
Self-consciousness is a living ellipse.

"God is a threefold trinity; at first the eternal, then the ethereal, and
finally the terrestrial, where it is completely divided.

"The symbolical doctrine of the colors is correct according to the
philosophy of nature. Red is fire, love--Father. Blue is air, truth, and
belief--Son. Green is water, formation, hope--Ghost. These are the three
cardinal virtues. Yellow is earth, the immovable, inexorable falsity, the
only vice--Satan. There are three virtues, but only one vice. A result
obtained by physio-philosophy, whereof pneumato-philosophy as yet augurs
nothing.

"The primary mucus, out of which every thing organic has been created, is
the sea mucus.

"The whole sea is alive. It is a fluctuating, ever self-elevating, and
ever self-depressing organism.

"If the organic fundamental substance consist of infusoria, so must the
whole organic world originate from infusoria. Plants and animals can be
only metamorphoses of infusoria. No organism has consequently been created
of larger size than an infusorial point; whatever is larger has not been
created, but developed.

"The mind, just as the body, must be developed out of these animals,
(infusoria.) The human body has been formed by an extreme separation of
the neuro-protoplasmic or mucous mass; so must the human mind be a
separation, a memberment of infusorial sensation. The highest mind is an
anatomized or dismembered mesmerism, each member whereof has been
constituted independent in itself.

"The liver is the soul in a state of sleep, the brain is the soul active
and awakening.

"Circumspection and forethought appear to be the thoughts of the bivalve
mollusca, and snails.

"Gazing upon a snail, one believes that he finds the prophesying goddess
sitting upon the tripod. What majesty is in a creeping snail, what
reflection, what earnestness, what timidity, and yet at the same time what
firm confidence! Surely a snail is an exalted symbol of mind slumbering
deeply within itself."

It is difficult for an Anglo-Saxon mind to believe that a man who could
write thus was not out of his senses. Yet Oken is an eminent physiologist,
and has made, it is said, important discoveries in respect to the cranial
homologies, which have been developed in Professor Owen's work on the
Homologies of the Vertebrate Skeleton. Nay, Oken declares himself to have
written his Physio-philosophy "in a kind of inspiration"--from what world
the religious man might be in doubt.

These extravagant notions show what is the natural tendency of the law
hypothesis. Yet it does not necessarily convert a man into an atheist. And
if any of its advocates declare themselves Theists, and even Christians,
we need not regard them as hypocrites, though we may consider them as in
an eminently dangerous position; and that, when they shall act
consistently, they will swing off into utter irreligion. But my arguments
against the hypothesis will be based on the position that _it is not
sustained by facts_; and this is the second position of my lecture.

The nebular hypothesis is a part of the foundation on which the doctrine
of creation by law rests. And the high scientific reputation of its
author, as well as its apparent coincidence with some of the deductions of
geology respecting the earliest condition of the earth, have made
philosophers look upon it with considerable favor. Yet very few have been
ready to give it implicit credence. And of late the most plausible
evidence in its favor seems to be fast vanishing away. The ablest
mechanicians are unable to see how a rotary motion should be produced in
nebulous matter by refrigeration; or, if this be assumed, how the
successive portions, detached by superior centrifugal force, should form
spherical masses. But a still more formidable objection lies in the fact
that, as improvements are made in telescopes, one and another of the
nebulae, on which the hypothesis rests, have been resolved into stars; and
the presumption hence arising is very strong that all are resolvable. In
the present aspect of the subject, no sagacious philosopher would dare to
rest even an hypothesis upon the unresolved nebulae. If, however, the
nebular hypothesis were shown to be true, it would prove nothing in regard
to the production of animals and plants by mere law, without the special
agency of the Deity.

The essential and inherent vitality of some kinds of matter is another
doctrine on which this hypothesis rests. "In vain," says Bory St. Vincent,
"has matter been considered as eminently brute. Many observations prove
that, if it is not all active, by its very nature, a part of it is
essentially so; and the presence of this, operating according to certain
laws, is able to produce life in an agglomeration of the molecules; and
since these laws will always be imperfectly known, it will at least be
rash to maintain that an infinite intelligence did not impose them; since
they are manifested by their results."--_Dictionnaire Classique
d'Histoire Naturelle_, art. _Materie_.

The "observations" to which this writer refers to sustain his hypothesis
are those which had been made upon certain vegetable infusions, which, in
certain circumstances, exhibited minute particles in motion, apparently by
vital forces. These were called _monads_, and were not supposed to be
distinct animals, but only atoms, ready to be organized. The more modern
and accurate researches of Ehrenberg and others, however, have shown,
beyond all doubt, that these monads are true animals, the minutest of all
living beings hitherto discovered. Not less than twenty-six species of
them have been described and figured by microscopists, the smallest of
which never exceeds the twelve thousandth of an inch in diameter.

The vegetable physiologists have described certain peculiar motions in the
minute vessels of plants, that might readily be regarded as matter
essentially vital. I refer to what they call _rotation_ and _cyclosis_.
But these are never seen save in the living plant; and, therefore, seem
dependent on the general life of the vegetable.

There is, however, danger of mistaking certain motions of the particles of
matter, by chemical agency, for the effect of vitality. A curious example
is thus described by Ehrenberg, which was discovered by Professor
Bornsdorff. "If a solution of the chloride of aluminum be dropped into a
solution of potassa, by the alternate precipitation and solution of the
aluminum, in the excess of the alkali, an appearance will be given to the
drop of aluminate matter, by the chemical changes and reactions which take
place, as if the _Amoeba diffluens_ were actually present, both as to
its form and evolutions, and will seem to be alive. Such appearance is
considered by its able discoverer as bearing the same relationship to the
real animalcule as a doll, or a figure moved by mechanism, does to a
living child."

We see, then, that the supports on which rests the doctrine of the
essential vitality of matter, give way before better instruments and more
careful research. Another statement, however, of much higher pretensions,
has lately been made, and on no mean authority. Able electricians declare
that, by passing currents of galvanism through solutions of silicate or
ferrocyanate of potassa, or some analogous substance, after a time,
sometimes several years, numerous small insects have been developed,
belonging to the _acari_ family.

These experiments appear to have been conducted with fairness and skill;
and that the insects showed themselves at the pole of the battery, around
which the gelatinous silex collected, cannot be doubted. It is true,
however, that, when the solution was exposed to the atmosphere, the
insects appeared much sooner and more numerous than when care was taken to
exclude every thing but oxygen enough to sustain life. This fact leads to
the suspicion that the ova of the insect might have been communicated
through the air, and that, even when an attempt was made to exclude the
atmosphere, some ova were still present. This conclusion is rendered still
more probable by some experiments made by Professor Schulz, of Berlin, on
the production of infusoria. Having first boiled the vegetable and animal
infusions, so as to destroy all germs of organic life, and expelled all
the atmosphere, he attached an apparatus in such a manner that, whatever
air entered afterwards, must pass through sulphuric acid, or a solution of
potash. The result was, that no infusoria or vegetable forms appeared
during two months; but in the same infusion, placed in the open air, and
exposed to the same light and heat as that enclosed in the glass vessel,
numerous animalcula and fungi appeared in a day or two. It will need,
therefore, very long and patient experiments to establish the assertion
that galvanism alone can produce living animals without the presence of
germs.

Not many years since, the equivocal or casual production of animalcula,
without any other parentage than law, was thought to be made out by a
multitude of facts. For these minute creatures appeared almost every
where, and in places where it seemed impossible that their ova should be
found. But the researches of Ehrenberg have cleared up the difficulties of
their origination in the ordinary modes of reproduction, in nearly every
instance, and the advocates of the law hypothesis have been fairly driven
from this stronghold of their argument. In describing the various modes of
reproduction with which nature has provided the infusoria, Professor Owen
says, "Thus each leaves, by the last act of its life, the means of
perpetuating and diffusing its species by thousands of fertile germs. When
once the thickly tenanted pool is dried up, and its bottom converted into
a layer of dust, these inconceivably minute and light ova will be raised
with the dust by the first puff of wind, diffused through the atmosphere,
and may there remain long suspended; forming, perhaps, their share of the
particles which we see flickering in the sunbeam, ready to fall into any
collection of water, beaten down by every summer shower into the streams
or pools which receive or may be formed by such showers, and, by virtue of
their tenacity of life, ready to develop themselves whenever they may find
the requisite conditions of their existence. The possibility, or, rather,
the high probability, that such is the design of the oviparous generation
of the infusoria, and such the common mode of the diffusion of their ova,
renders the hypothesis of equivocal generation, which has been so
frequently invoked to explain their origin in new-formed natural or
artificial infusions, quite gratuitous."--_Lectures on Comp. Anat._ vol.
ii. p. 31.

No longer able to maintain a foothold among the animalcula, the defenders
of this hypothesis have of late attempted to take a stand among animals of
a somewhat higher grade, viz., the entozoa, or animals inhabiting other
animals. These being considerably larger than the infusoria, their ova
could not float in the atmosphere; but they possess a wonderful tenacity
of life; some of them exhibiting signs of life after having been in
boiling water for an hour; others have revived after having been packed
for a long time in ice, and frozen; others have revived after lying in a
dried state for six or seven years. Their power of reproduction, in the
ordinary modes, is also prodigious, exceeding even that of the infusoria.
It will, then, demand very strong evidence to prove that such animals
possess also the power of spontaneous production, without parentage, or
that their existence within other animals cannot be explained without such
a supposition. For, if capable of being produced without parentage, why
should such extraordinary care have been taken for their multiplication,
in almost all the ordinary modes in which animals are reproduced?

The extraordinary facts that have been discovered by Professors
Steenstrup, Owen, and others, within a few years, respecting what they
call _alternate generation_, or _parthenogenesis_, have been thought
favorable to the hypothesis of development. Among the mollusca, the
polyparia, the entozoa, and infusoria, it is found that, in some species,
the result of sexual union is the production of a larva without sex, and,
therefore, incapable of propagating in the usual way. Yet that larva can
of itself produce another larva quite different from itself, and this
larva another, and so on, sometimes for eight or ten generations, when the
spermatic force seems to be exhausted, and a progeny exactly like the
original parents that started the series is produced, capable of giving
rise to another and a similar series. Here, then, we find a succession of
progeny for several generations, and all quite unlike one another, yet
without any immediate parental agency. Why is it not an example of
spontaneous generation? and why may not new species be produced in this
manner?

There are two facts prominent on this subject which afford a full answer
to such questions. One is, that these generations of larvae always begin
with the spermatozoon and the ovum of parents; the other is, that the
series always closes, if allowed to run its natural course, in individuals
with sex, exactly identical with those that started it; so that the
species always remains entire. The whole process is simply one of the
infinitely varied modes which nature employs to preserve and perfect the
species. The process never stops with any of the larvae intervening between
the fertile parents at the beginning, and the fertile individuals at the
end of the series. Professor Owen supposes--certainly with much
plausibility--that some of the original germ-cells, not wanted for the
production of the first larva, pass on to form the successive generations,
till the series is complete; so that, after all, the case is not an
exception to the general law of reproduction by parental agency; and
instead of sustaining, it certainly goes against, the notion of
spontaneous generation and of transmutation of species; because it shows
how far parental influence may reach, and how tenacious nature is of
specific distinctions. For the same reasons, the case affords a
presumption against other alleged cases of equivocal generation and
metamorphoses of species.[18]

Appeal has also been made to the vegetable kingdom for examples of the
production of organic beings, viz., plants without seeds. Who has not
observed, for instance, how the clearing up and burning over of a piece of
land will often cause an entirely new tribe of plants to spring up and
flourish? Whence came the seeds? We have seen, for instance, (in Richmond,
Virginia,) a thick growth of pines upon a spot where from six to ten feet
of soil had been removed a few years previously.

It is very possible, in some cases of this kind, that the soil, having
been produced by aqueous agencies, may contain seeds to a considerable
depth, and that their vitality may have been preserved for centuries; for
we know that seeds three thousand years old, taken from Egyptian
catacombs, have germinated, in favorable circumstances. In most cases of
this sort, however, the winds have probably supplied the seed, it may be,
long before. We were one day wandering over Mount Holyoke, where a spot
recently cleared was covered with the fire-weed, a species of senecio; and
as we were musing upon its origin, a strong blast of wind swept over the
plants, just ready to throw off their seeds. Sustained by their light
egrets, they floated away on the air in numbers sufficient to cover half
the mountain with the plant, when it should be cleared and burnt over. Yet
their existence would never be suspected till those circumstances should
be developed. At least, until we can prove that the soil contains no
seeds by the most careful examination, it will be premature to infer the
equivocal production of the plants growing upon it.

Vegetable physiology furnishes another fact, which seems to me to look
still more favorable to this law hypothesis than the preceding, although
it has not been noticed, so far as I know, by the advocates of that
hypothesis. Speaking of the matter of which certain flowerless plants are
composed, Dr. Lindlay says, "It is even uncertain whether this matter will
produce its like, and whether it is not a mere representation of the vital
principle of vegetation, capable of being called into action, either as a
fungus, or algae, or lichen, according to the particular conditions of
heat, light, and moisture, and the medium in which it is placed; producing
fungi upon dead or putrid organic beings, lichens upon living vegetables,
earth, or stones, and algae where water is the medium in which it is
developed." Again, in speaking of that green slime which often covers the
soil, rocks, walls, and glass in damp places, he says, "The slime
resembles a layer of albumen, spread with a brush; it exfoliates in
drying, and finally becomes visible by the manner in which it colors green
or deep brown. One might call it a provisional creation, waiting to be
organized, and then assuming different forms according to the nature of
the corpuscles which penetrate it, or develop among it. It may further be
said to be the origin of two very distinct existences, the one certainly
animal, the other purely vegetable."--_Natural System_, pp. 326, 328, 334.

Now, admitting all the facts that have been detailed respecting the
production of infusoria, entozoa, acari, and cryptogamian plants to be
true, although most of them are far from being proved, it seems to me that
they do not show us how vitality is produced by mere law, without the
special agency of the Deity. Writers on the subject seem to overlook the
distinction between organization and life. The first may be present in its
highest perfection without the latter, as it is in animals and plants
recently killed. The organization is merely a preparation to receive the
mysterious principles which we call _life_ and _intellect_. Light, heat,
and electricity may be the essential agents in producing the organization,
but they do not explain the nature, or account for the presence, of life.
That must, so far as we know, come from some other and a higher source.
Galvanism may bring gelatinous matter into the form of an insect, or
infusoria, or entozoa; but there is no evidence that it can impart life,
however exquisite the organization. It may be, and we have reason to
suppose it is, the divine will to bestow life whenever a certain
organization exists; but this does not show that his special agency is not
concerned in it. He may will that the peculiar life of a lichen shall be
given to the same elementary matter which, in another situation, he
constitutes an alga, or a fungus, or even an animal. But this would not
prove that natural law alone could produce life. There is nowhere any
evidence that sensibility, contractility, and especially intellect and
volition, are the result of any natural operations. In their properties
they are so entirely diverse from all known physical effects, that we must
impute them to some other than a natural cause. We must call in the power
of a supreme intelligent Being. The laws of affinity, light, heat, and
electricity, of endosmose and exosmose, may prepare the organization, but
their power ends there; and hence true philosophy requires us to impute
the phenomena of life and intellect to an extraneous and infinitely higher
cause.

The case, then, stands thus: In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, we
are certain that organization requires the previous existence and agency
of a being similarly organized, which we call the parent. But suppose
that, in a very few cases, the laws of nature can produce the
organization. It still demands another and a higher power--not a blind
impulse, but an intelligent cause--to bestow life and intellect. To prove
the existence of a natural cause for the arrangement of the atoms into an
organic structure, does by no means prove the same for those higher and
mysterious principles that make that structure a living, thinking being.

Such, however, are the strongest arguments by which the advocates of the
law hypothesis sustain their views of the origin of organism, life, and
intellect. The next step in their reasoning is to show how animals and
plants may be transmuted from one species, or genus, or family, to
another; so that the existing vast variety can be traced to a few original
germs. They maintain that these developments of the more from the less
perfect have proceeded along certain parallel lines; one series of
developments, for instance, taking the line of the fishes, another of the
reptiles, another of the birds, another of quadrupeds, and so on.

To prove these developments or transmutations, they appeal first to the
physiological history of the mammalian embryo. In its earliest stages, it
can hardly be distinguished, except in size, from the unborn polygastric
infusoria. The brain of a human embryo appears at first like that of an
invertebrate animal; next like that of a fish; then successively like that
of a reptile, a bird, a rodent mammal, a ruminant, and a monkey. So the
heart, at an early stage, looks like that of an insect; then it has two
chambers, like that of a fish; then it becomes three chambered, like that
of a reptile; and finally, four chambered, as in the mammalia. The
inference which these theorists would draw from such facts is, that man
actually begins his existence as an animalcule, and passes successively
through the mould or condition of other animals, before he reaches the
highest. And the reasons why he does become a man, rather than an
echinoderm, or a fish, or a monkey, is only some slightly modifying
circumstance, as, for instance, a longer gestation. It appears to me,
however, that the inferences sound philosophy should derive from such
facts are, first, that, while there is a seeming resemblance between the
human embryo and that of lower animals, there is, in fact, a real and a
wide diversity; so that the one infallibly becomes an inferior animal, and
the other a man. Could a single example be produced in which a human
embryo stopped at and became an insect, or a fish, or a monkey, there
might be some plausibility in the supposition. But it is as certain to
become a man as the sun is to rise and set; and, therefore, the human
condition results from laws as fixed as those that regulate the movements
of the heavenly bodies. That is a very superficial philosophy which infers
identity of nature from mere external resemblance.

The phenomena of hybridity furnish another ground of argument in favor of
the transmutation of species, and of course in favor of the law
hypothesis; for that hybrids are sometimes the result of the union of
different species will not be denied. There is, however, a natural
repugnance to union between different species; and in a state of nature
this can very rarely be overcome. But domestication changes and almost
obliterates many natural instincts, and hence hybridity is far more common
among domesticated animals and plants. As a general fact, also, the hybrid
offspring is incapable of propagating its own race, without union with one
of the original species by which it was produced; and this inability to
continue this mixed race has been generally regarded among naturalists as
the best characteristic of species. Some, however, attempt to show that
some hybrid races do continue from generation to generation to propagate
their kind. But in most cases the hybrid race ere long runs out, and there
is always a strong tendency to revert to the original stock; and were it
not for the influence of man, probably such a thing as hybridity would
scarcely ever have been heard of. Nature seems to have established strong
barriers around species, so that an identity should be preserved; and even
if we admit the possibility of their coalescence in some cases, yet we
have evidence that almost always they are preserved distinct from century
to century; and the same is true even of the more prominent varieties, for
we find not only the same species, but the same varieties of animals and
plants, preserved some three thousand years in the Egyptian catacombs,
that are now alive in the same country. How idle, then, to suppose that
the laws of hybridity will account for such radical and entire
transmutations as this hypothesis supposes! To accomplish this, it would
need as strong a tendency in nature to a union of species, genera, and
families, as now exists against it.

But a special appeal has been made on this subject to geology. The history
of organic remains, it is thought, corresponds to what we might expect, if
the hypothesis of development is true. In the oldest rocks we find chiefly
the more simple invertebrate animals, and the vertebrated tribes appear at
first in the form of fish, then of reptiles, then of birds, then of
mammals, and last of all of man. What better confirmation could we wish
than this gradually expanding series? True, all the great classes of
organic beings, vegetable and animal, are found nearly at the earliest
epoch, and continue through the entire series of rocks. But we have only
to suppose a distinct stirps for each of the classes, and that the
developments took place along parallel lines, in order to harmonize the
facts with the hypothesis.

Such a general view of the subject of organic remains seems to give
plausibility to the hypothesis of organic development. But the tables are
turned when we descend to particulars. The idea of a distinct stirps or
germ for each great class of animals and plants seems to me to destroy an
essential feature of the hypothesis. It supposes that law produces at once
a vertebral animal and a flowering plant; for the first, certainly, we
find in the very lowest of the fossiliferous rocks. "The lower silurian,"
says Sir Roderick Murchison, in 1847, "is no longer to be viewed as an
invertebrate period, for the onchus (a genus of fish) has been found in
the Llandeilo Flags, and in the lower silurian rocks of Bala."

It is also a most important fact, that this fish of the oldest rock was
not, as the development scheme would require, of a low organization, but
quite high on the scale of fishes. The same is true of all the earliest
species of this class. "All our most ancient fossil fishes," says
Professor Sedgwick, "belong to a high organic type; and the very oldest
species that are well determined fall naturally into an order of fishes
which Owen and Mueller place, not at the bottom, but at the top of the
whole class."--_Discourse on the Studies of the University_, &c. 5th edit.
p. lxiv. pref.

This point has been fully and ably discussed by Hugh Miller, Esq., in his
late work, "The Footprints of the Creator, or the Asterolepis of
Stromness." The asterolepis was one of these fishes found in the old red
sandstone, sometimes over twenty feet long; yet, says Mr. Miller, "instead
of being, as the development hypothesis would require, a fish low in its
organization, it seems to have ranged on the level of the highest
ichthyic-reptilian families ever called into existence."

Another point which Mr. Miller has labored hard to establish, and of which
there seems to be no reasonable doubt, is, that in many families of
animals, not only were the first species that appeared of high
organization, but there was a gradual degradation among those that were
created afterwards. Of the fishes generally, he says, that "the progress
of the race, as a whole, though it still retains not a few of the higher
forms, has been a progress, not of development from the low to the high,
but of degradation from the high to the low." Again he says, "We know, as
geologists, that the dynasty of the fish was succeeded by that of the
reptile; that the dynasty of the reptile was succeeded by that of the
mammiferous quadruped; and that the dynasty of the mammiferous quadruped
was succeeded by that of man, as man now exists--a creature of a mixed
character, and subject, in all conditions, to wide alternations of
enjoyment and suffering. We know further,--so far, at least, as we have
succeeded in deciphering the record,--that the several dynasties were
introduced, not in their lower, but in their higher forms; that, in short,
in the imposing programme of creation, it was arranged as a general rule,
that in each of the great divisions of the procession the magnates should
walk first. We recognize yet further the fact of degradation specially
exemplified in the fish and the reptile." "Among these degraded races,
that of the footless serpent, which _goeth upon its belly_, has long been
noted by the theologian as a race typical, in its condition and nature, of
an order of hopelessly degraded beings, borne down to the dust by a
clinging curse; and curiously enough, when the first comparative
anatomists in the world give _their_ readiest and most prominent instance
of degradation among the divisions of the natural world, it is this very
order of footless reptiles that they select."

Among the invertebrate animals are numerous examples of the deterioration
of a race. M. Alcide D'Orbigny, one of the most accomplished of living
paleontologists, in his _Cours Elementaire de Paleontologie et de
Geologie_, speaks as follows of the cephalopods found in the oldest rocks:
"See, then, the result; the cephalopods, the most perfect of the mollusks,
which lived in the early period of the world, show a progress of
degradation in their generic forms. We insist on this fact relative to the
cephalopods, which we shall hereafter compare with the less perfect
classes of mollusks, since it must lead to the conclusion that the
mollusks, as to their classes, have certainly retrograded from the
compound to the simple, or from the more to the less perfect."

Such facts as these are absolutely fatal to the hypothesis of development;
and geology abounds with them. Indeed, through all her archives, we search
in vain for facts that show any thing like a passage of one species,
genus, or family, into another. Certain distinct types characterize the
different formations up to a certain period, when there is a sudden
change; and in the subsequent strata we find animals and plants entirely
different from those that have disappeared. The new races are, indeed,
often of a higher grade than those that preceded them, but could not have
sprung from them.

The true theory of animal and vegetable existence on our globe appears to
be this: Such natures were placed upon the earth as were adapted to its
varying condition. When the earliest group was created, such were the
climate, the atmosphere, the waters, and the means of subsistence, that
the lower tribes were best adapted to the condition of things. That group
occupied the earth till such changes had occurred as to make it unsuited
to their natures, and consequently they died out, and new races were
brought in; not by mere law, but by divine benevolence, power, and wisdom.
These tribes also passed away, when the condition of things was so changed
as to be uncongenial to their natures, to give place to a third group, and
these again to a fourth, and so on to the present races, which, in their
turn, perhaps, are destined to become extinct. From the first, however,
the changes which the earth has undergone, as to temperature, soil, and
climate, have been an improvement of its condition; so that each
successive group of animals and plants could be more and more complicated
and perfect; and therefore we find an increase and development of
flowering plants and vertebral animals. And yet, from the beginning, all
the great classes seem to have existed, so that the changes have been only
in the proportion of the more and less perfect at different periods. In
short, we have only to suppose that the Creator exactly adapted organic
natures to the several geological periods, and we perfectly explain the
phenomena of organic remains. But the doctrine of development by law
corresponds only in a loose and general way to the facts, and cannot be
reconciled to the details. If that hypothesis cannot get a better foothold
somewhere else, it will soon find its way into the limbo of things
abortive and forgotten.

I have now noticed, I believe, the principal sources of evidence in which
the law hypothesis rests; and at the best, we find only a possibility, but
rarely, if ever, a probability, that such a power exists in nature. I turn
now, for a few moments, to the arguments on the other side; that is,
against the hypothesis.

_And first, it cannot explain the wonderful adaptation of animals and
plants to their condition and to one another._

There is not a more striking thing in nature than that adaptation; and
geology shows us that it has always been so. Now, if any thing requires
the exercise of infinite wisdom and power, it is this feature of creation.
But according to this hypothesis, the laws of nature may be so arranged as
to create every animal and plant just at the right time, and place them in
the right spot, and adjust every thing around them to their nature and
wants. In other words, it supposes law capable of doing what only infinite
wisdom and power can do. What is this but ascribing infinite perfection to
law, and imputing to it effects which only an infinite intelligence could
bring about? In other words, it is making a Deity of the laws which he
ordains. Theoretically it may be of little importance by what name men
call the Deity; but practically to impute natural effects to law, as an
independent power, is to put a blind, unintelligent agency in the place of
Jehovah.

_In the second place, where one fact in nature looks favorable to this
hypothesis, a thousand facts teach the contrary._

Take for example the reproduction of animals. Out of every thousand
individuals we have certain evidence that nine hundred and ninety-nine are
brought into existence by the ordinary modes of generation; that is, they
depend upon progenitors. Still, if in the thousandth case the animal's
existence was clearly casual, if we could see an elephant, or an ox, start
into life without parental agency, that single case would prove the
hypothesis. But never do its advocates pretend that any of the larger
animals are produced in this way. Nor is it till they get among the
smaller and obscure animals, whose habits are very difficult to trace out,
that we find any examples where a suspicion even can exist of the
communication of vitality irrespective of parental agency. Is not a strong
presumption hence produced that further and more scrutinizing observation
will show the few excepted cases not to be real exceptions? Does not sound
philosophy demand that the proof of the casual production of the
thousandth case shall be as decided as that of the normal generation of
the nine hundred and ninety-nine? But no one, it seems to me, will pretend
that any thing like such certainty exists in a single example throughout
all nature. The presumption, then, is really more than a thousand to one
against the hypothesis.

Take an example from hybridity. While a thousand species retain from age
to age their individuality, not more than one coalesces with its neighbor,
and loses its identity. And even here, all admit that there is a constant
tendency in the hybrid race to revert to the original stock; and there is
strong reason to believe that this will sooner or later take place, and
that it would speedily occur in every case, were it not for the influence
of domestication. Such facts make the presumption very strong, that
species are permanent, and any extensive metamorphosis impossible.
Hybridity appears to be in a measure unnatural; and the old proverb true
in respect to it--

  "Si furca naturam expellas,
  Usque recurret."

By the hypothesis under consideration, we ought to expect at least a few
examples of the formation of new organs in animals, in the efforts of
nature to advance towards a more perfect state. It has usually been said
that the time since animals were first described is too short for such
development. But we have examples, from the catacombs of Egypt, of animals
and plants that lived in that country three thousand years ago; and yet,
according to Cuvier,--and who is a better judge?--they are precisely like
the living species. Strange that this great length of time should not have
produced even one new organ, or the marks of a conatus to produce one. We
are, indeed, pointed to the different varieties of the human species, as
examples of this progress. But these diversities, also, can be shown to be
the same now as at the earliest date of historical records; and where,
then, is the evidence that they ever have undergone, or ever will undergo,
any change of importance? There may indeed be examples of amalgamation,
but under favorable circumstances the original varieties are again
developed.

_In the third place, geology contradicts this hypothesis._

We have seen that it offers no satisfactory explanation of the gradual
increase of the more perfect animals and plants, as we rise higher in the
rocks. That fact is most perfectly explained by supposing that divine
wisdom and benevolence adapted the new species, which from time to time
were created, to the changing and improving condition of the earth. A
multitude of species have been dug from the rocks; but not one exhibits
evidence of the development of new organs in the manner described by this
hypothesis. New species often appear, but they differ as decidedly from
the previous ones as species now do; and at the beginning of each
formation there is often a very decided advance in the organic beings from
those found in the top of the subjacent formation. How can this hypothesis
explain such sudden changes, when its essential principle is, that the
progress of the development is uniform? Nothing can explain them surely
but special creating interposition.

Geology also shows us that for a vast period the world existed without
inhabitants. Now, what was it that gave the laws of nature power, after so
long an operation unproductive of vitality, to produce organic natures?
Who can conceive of any inherent force that should thus enable them, all
at once, to do what true philosophy shows to have demanded infinite
skill?

In short, of all the sciences, geology most clearly shows special divine
interference to explain its phenomena. It presents us with such stupendous
changes, after long periods of repose, such sudden exhibitions of life,
springing forth from the bosom of universal death, that nothing but
divine, special, miraculous agency can explain the results. And of all the
vast domains of nature, it seems to me no part is so barren of facts to
sustain this hypothesis as the rocks; nor so full of facts for its
refutation. These, however, have been so fully detailed in a previous part
of this lecture that they need not be here repeated.

_In the fourth place, the prodigious increase of the power and the means
of reproduction, which we find among the lower tribes of animals, affords
a strong presumption against this hypothesis._

The animals highest on the scale, and most perfect in their organization,
have only one mode of reproduction, viz., the viviparous. Descending a
little lower, we come to the oviparous and ovoviviparous tribes. Passing
to the invertebrate animals, we meet with two other modes of reproduction,
the gemmiparous and fissiparous. In the first mode, the animal is
propagated by buds, like some plants, as the tiger lily; by the second
mode, a spontaneous division of the animal takes place.

Now, in some of the lowest of the invertebrate tribes, we find most of the
modes of propagation that have been enumerated in operation; so that the
same individual in one set of circumstances is oviparous, in another
gemmiparous or fissiparous. The consequence is, a power of multiplication
inconceivably great. Mr. Owen calculates that the _ascaris lumbricoides_,
the most common intestinal worm, is capable of producing sixty-four
millions of young; and Ehrenberg asserts that the _hydatina senta_, one of
the infusoria, increased in twelve days to sixteen millions, and another
species, in four days, to one hundred and seventy billions.

Why, now, are these astonishing powers of reproduction given to these
minute animals, if it be true that they can also be produced without
parentage, and by mere law? This latter mode would supersede the necessity
of the former; and therefore, the care taken by Providence to provide the
former is a strong presumption that the latter does not exist.

_In the fifth place, it is an instructive fact on this subject that, as
instruments have been improved, and observations have become more
searching, the supposed cases of spontaneous generation have diminished_,
until it is not pretended now that it takes place except in a very few
tribes, and those the most obscure and difficult to observe of all living
things. A hundred years ago, naturalists, and especially other men, might
easily have been made to believe that many of the smaller insects had a
casual origin. But long since, save in the matter of the acari, the
entomological field has been abandoned by the advocates of the law
hypothesis, and they have been driven from one tribe after another, till
at length some of the obscure hiding-places of the entozoa and infusoria
are now the only spots where the light is not too strong for the
large-pupiled eyes of this hypothesis. Is not the presumption hence
arising very strong that it will need only a little further improvement in
instruments and care in observation to carry daylight into these recesses,
and demonstrate the parentage and normal development of all organic
beings?

_Finally. The gross materialism inseparable from this hypothesis is a
strong argument against it._

I am not aware that any one, except Oken, perhaps, has ever attempted to
show that mind, as a spiritual essence, distinct from matter, has been
created by natural laws; in other words, that there is in nature a power
to produce mind. All such maintain that intellect is material, or, rather,
the result of organization, the mere function of the brain, as are also
life and instinct. Generally, also, they contend--and, indeed, consistency
seems to require it--that the moral powers depend chiefly upon different
developments of the brain; so that a disposition to do wrong results more
from organization than from punishable mental obliquity; indeed, the worst
of criminals are often, on this account, more to be pitied than blamed,
and the physician is of more importance than the moralist and the divine
for their reformation.

Now, if this system of materialism is true, we ought to embrace it,
without any fear of ultimate bad effects. But a philosopher will hesitate
long before he adopts a system which thus seems to degrade man from his
lofty standing as a spiritual, accountable, and immortal being, and makes
his intellectual and moral powers dependent upon the structure of the
brain, and, therefore, destined to perish with the material organization,
with no hope of future existence, unless God chooses to recreate the man.
Nay, if there be no distinct spirit in man, what evidence have we that
there is one in Jehovah? A true philosopher, I say, will demand very
strong evidence before he adopts any hypothesis that leads a logical mind
to such conclusions; and I see not how the one under consideration can
terminate in any thing else.

Such are the reasons that lead me to reject the hypothesis of creation by
law. I have endeavored to treat the subject in a candid and philosophical
manner, not charging atheism upon its advocates when they declare
themselves Theists and Christians. Neither have I called in the aid of
ridicule, as might easily be done, and as, in fact, has been done by
almost every opponent of the system who has written upon it. I have
endeavored to show that the hypothesis, tried in the balances of sound
philosophy, is found wanting; because, in the first place, the facts
adduced to sustain it are insufficient; and secondly, because, where one
fact seems to favor it, a thousand testify against it. Is not the
conclusion a fair one, that the hypothesis has no solid foundation? Is not
the evidence against it overwhelming? Yet it has many advocates, and I
must think--I hope not uncharitably--that these are the reasons: First,
because men do not like the idea of a personal, present, overruling Deity;
and secondly, because there is very little profound and thorough knowledge
of natural history in the community. It is just such an hypothesis as
chimes in with the taste of that part of the world who have a smattering
of science, and who do not wish to live without some form of religion, but
who still desire to free themselves from the inspection of a holy God, and
from the responsibility which his existence and presence would impose.
Depend upon it, gentlemen, you will meet these delusions not unfrequently
among the cultivated classes of society, where they have already done
immense mischief. You will, indeed, find all the eminent comparative
anatomists and physiologists, such as Cuvier and Owen; such chemists as
Liebig; such zoologists as Agassiz and Edward Forbes; such botanists as
Hooker, Henslow, Lindley, Torrey, and Gray; and such geologists as De la
Beche, Lyell, Murchison, Sedgwick, D'Orbigny, Buckland, and Miller,
decided in their rejection of these views. But when even educated men
obtain only a smattering of natural science, they find something very
fascinating in this hypothesis; and this is just the religion, or,
rather, the irreligion, that suits the superficial, selfish, and
pleasure-seeking exquisites of fashionable drawing-rooms, theatres, and
watering-places. You will find, therefore, the need of thoroughly studying
this subject, or you will not be able, as you would wish, to vindicate the
cause of true science and true religion.

I cannot terminate this discussion without referring to an ingenious
analogy, suggested by Hugh Miller, in his "Footprints of the Creator," and
drawn from the facts he had stated respecting the degradation of species.
No one who has thoroughly studied Bishop Butler's Analogy of Natural and
Revealed Religion to the Course of Nature will venture to say that Mr.
Miller's suggestions are mere fancy. As the ideas are entirely original
with him, I give them in his own words.

Having spoken of the several dynasties of animals that have succeeded one
another on the globe, in a passage which we have already quoted, he says,
"Passing on to the revealed record, we learn that the dynasty of man in
the mixed state and character is not the final one; but that there is to
be yet another creation, or, more properly, re-creation, known
theologically as the resurrection, which shall be connected in its
physical components, by bonds of mysterious paternity, with the dynasty
which now reigns, and be bound to it mentally by the chain of identity,
conscious and actual; but which, in all that constitutes superiority,
shall be as vastly its superior as the dynasty of responsible man is
superior to even the lowest of the preliminary dynasties. We are further
taught that, at the commencement of this last of the dynasties, there will
be a re-creation of not only elevated, but also of degraded beings--a
re-creation of the lost. We are taught yet further that, though the
present dynasty be that of a lapsed race, which at their first
introduction were placed on higher ground than that on which they now
stand, and sank by their own act, it was yet part of the original design,
from the beginning of all things, that they should occupy the existing
platform; and that redemption is thus no afterthought, rendered necessary
by the fall, but, on the contrary, part of a general scheme, for which
provision had been made from the beginning; so that the divine Man,
through whom the work of restoration has been effected, was in reality, in
reference to the purposes of the Eternal, what he is designated in the
remarkable text, _the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world_. Slain
from the foundation of the world! Could the assertors of the stony science
ask for language more express? By piecing the two records together,--that
revealed in Scripture and that revealed in the rocks,--records which,
however widely geologists may mistake the one, or commentators
misunderstand the other, have emanated from the same great Author,--we
learn that in slow and solemn majesty has period succeeded period, each in
succession, ushering in a higher and yet higher scene of existence; that
fish, reptiles, mammiferous quadrupeds, have reigned in turn; that
responsible man, 'made in the image of God,' and with dominion over all
creatures, ultimately entered into a world ripened for his reception; but,
further, that this passing scene, in which he forms the prominent figure,
is not the final one in the long series, but merely the last of the
_preliminary_ scenes; and that that period to which the by-gone ages,
incalculable in amount, with all their well-proportioned gradations of
being, form the imposing vestibule, shall have perfection for its occupant
and eternity for its duration. I know not how it may appear to others, but
for my own part I cannot avoid thinking that there would be a lack of
proportion in the series of being, were the period of perfect and
glorified humanity abruptly connected, without the introduction of an
intermediate creation of _responsible_ imperfection with that of the
dying, irresponsible brute. That scene of things in which God became man,
and suffered, _seems_, as it no doubt _is_, a necessary link in the
chain."

A single concluding thought forces itself upon my mind. It is this: How
ingenious and persevering men are in deluding themselves on the subject of
religion! Since the time of Christ, what countless devices have they
framed to escape from the lofty truths and spiritual piety of his gospel!
Nor are they satisfied with this; for the gospel has shed so much light
upon the religion of nature, that even this is more than men like; and,
therefore, every science is ransacked for facts to neutralize all
religion. Men's consciences do not permit them to throw off all the forms
of religion; and, therefore, they are satisfied if they can only tear out
its heart. They like to preserve and to embalm its external covering, as
the naturalist does the skin of an animal for his cabinet. And as the
latter fills his specimen with straw and arsenic, and fits glass eyes into
it, so do men fill up their religious specimen with error and vain
speculation, and fit into its head the eyes of false philosophy, and then
claim for it intellectual worship. It is the business of educated men to
show that such caricatures are neither science nor religion. May you,
gentlemen, have your full share in this most useful and noble work.[19]




LECTURE X.

SPECIAL AND MIRACULOUS PROVIDENCE.


Next in importance to the question whether the Deity exists, is the
inquiry whether he exerts any direct agency in upholding the universe and
in controlling its events. This point has been discussed in all ages in
which there have been philosophers or theologians, and the current of
opinion has fallen principally into three channels.

In the first place, some have removed the Deity entirely from his works
into a fancied extra-mundane sphere, where in solitude he might enjoy the
blessedness of his own infinite nature, without the trouble of directing
the events of the universe, or watching over the works of his hand.
Forgetful of the great principle, that the intellectual powers produce
happiness only when called into exercise, they have fancied that the care
of the universe must be a burden to its Creator, and that it would
derogate from his dignity. It is supposed, therefore, that the world has
been given up to the rule of fate or chance.

In the second place, a more numerous class have maintained that the
Supreme Being, after creating the world, committed its preservation and
government either to a subordinate agent, or to the laws which he
impressed upon matter and mind, which possess an inherent power to execute
themselves; so that, in fact, God exercises no direct and immediate agency
in natural operations. The learned and usually profound Cudworth adopted
the hypothesis of a _plastic nature_, as he terms it, by which he means a
vital, spiritual, and unintelligent, yet subordinate agent, by whose
agency the world is governed and its operations carried on. At first view,
this hypothesis would seem to lead inevitably to atheism; but such was not
the intention of its author. Still, it is obviously so clumsy, that had it
not been the product of a great mind, it never would have received so much
notice, or called forth such mighty efforts for its refutation, as have
been bestowed upon it.

Two varieties of opinion exist among those who believe the world governed
and sustained by natural laws, established by the Deity. Some maintain
that these laws are general, not particular; not extending to minor
events, but only the more important; not providing for species, but only
for families. Hence they suppose that these general cases may interfere
with one another, and produce results apparently repugnant to the
intention of their Author. Others, shocked at the absurdity of such
conclusions, believe the laws of nature to extend to every event, and
never to interfere with one another, and always to act in accordance with
the divine will and appointment, but without any direct agency exerted by
the Deity. They suppose these laws--in other words, secondary agencies--to
have the power of producing all natural phenomena.

In the third place, there are others who believe that a law can have no
efficiency without the presence and agency of the lawgiver. They,
therefore, suppose every event in the natural world to be the result of
the direct and immediate agency of God. What we call laws are only the
uniform mode of his operation. They agree with the advocates of the
last-named theory in supposing the laws of nature to extend to every
event, and to be in accordance with the ordination of the Deity; but they
differ in maintaining that the presence and direct efficiency of a
lawgiver are essential to the operation of natural laws.

I should then define a Special Providence to be an event brought about
apparently by natural laws, yet, in fact, the result of a special agency,
on the part of the Deity, to meet a particular exigency, either by an
original arrangement of natural laws, or by a modification of second
causes, out of sight at the time.

The doctrine, which supposes the Deity to exercise a superintendence and
direction over all the affairs of the universe, in any of the modes that
have been mentioned, whether by a subordinate agent, or by laws, general
or particular, with inherent self-executing power, or by the direct
efficiency of the divine will, is called the doctrine of divine
providence. If the superintendence extend only to general laws, it is
called a general providence. If those laws reach every possible case, it
is called a particular or universal providence.

By a _Miraculous Providence_ is meant a superintendence over the world
that interferes, when desirable, with the regular operations of nature,
and brings about events, either in opposition to natural laws, or by
giving them a less or greater power than usual. In either of these cases,
the events cannot be explained by natural laws; they are above, or
contrary to, nature, and, therefore, are called miracles, or prodigies.

There may be, and, as I believe, there is, another class of occurrences,
intermediate between miracles and events strictly natural. These take
place in perfect accordance with the natural laws within human view, and
appear to us to be perfectly accounted for by those laws; and yet, in some
way or other, we learn that they required some special exercise of divine
power, out of human view, for their production. Thus, according to the
views of most Christian denominations, conversion takes place in the human
heart in perfect accordance with the laws of mind, and could be
philosophically explained by them; yet revelation assures that it _is not
of blood,_ [natural descent,] _nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the
will of man, but of God_. Divine power, therefore, is essential to the
change, although we see only the operation of natural causes. So a storm
may appear to us to be perfectly accounted for by natural laws; and yet
divine efficiency might have produced a change in some of those laws out
of our sight, and thus meet a particular exigency. Such events I call
_special providence_; and I maintain that we cannot tell how frequently
they may occur.

It is chiefly the bearings of science, especially of geology, upon the
doctrine of miraculous and special providence, which I wish to consider.
But it may form a useful introduction, to state the evidence, which goes
to show that the agency of the Deity, in the ordinary operations of
nature, is a direct efficiency; or, in other words, that the laws of
nature are only the modes in which divine agency operates.

In the first place, if we suppose ever so many secondary causes to be
concerned in natural events, the efficiency must, after all, be referred
to God.

What is a secondary cause? or, in other words, what is a law of nature
considered as a cause? It is simply a uniform mode of operation. We find
that heavy bodies uniformly tend towards the earth's centre, and that we
call the law of gravity; but if those bodies sometimes ascended, and
sometimes moved horizontally, under the same circumstances, we could not
infer the existence of such a law.

Now, there must be some cause for uniformity of operation in nature. There
must be some foreign power, which gives the uniformity, since it is
certain that the law itself can possess no efficiency. We may, indeed,
find one law dependent upon a second law, and this upon a third, and so
on. But the inquiry still arises, What gives the efficiency to this second
and third law? and still the answer must be, Something out of itself. So
that if we run back on the chain of causes ever so far, we must still
resort to the power of the Deity to find any efficiency that will produce
the final result. In most cases, we can trace back only one or two links
on the chain. For instance, we account for the falling of all bodies by
the law of gravity. But philosophers have wearied themselves in vain to
find any cause for gravity, except in the will of God. The failure of
every other hypothesis, though invented by such men as Newton and Le Sage,
has been signal. Sound philosophy, then, requires us to infer that gravity
owes its efficiency to the direct exertion of divine power. And so in all
cases, when we can no longer discover second causes for any phenomenon,
why should we imagine their existence, rather than refer it to the agency
of God? For go back as far as we may, and discover a thousand intervening
causes, the efficiency resides alone in God. We have no evidence that even
infinite power can communicate that efficiency to the laws of nature, so
that they can act without the presence and agency of God. The common idea,
which endows those laws with independent power, will not bear examination.

In the second place, if natural operations do not depend upon the exercise
of divine power, no other efficient cause can be assigned for their
production.

We have seen that in the laws of nature, independently of the Deity, there
is no efficiency; and I know not where else we can resort for any agency
to carry forward the operations of nature, except to the same infinite
Being. The fate and chance of the ancients, the plastic nature of
Cudworth, the delegated nature of Lamarck, are indeed names invented by
men to designate a certain imaginary efficiency residing somewhere,
independent of the Deity, by which the phenomena of nature have been
supposed to be produced. But the moment they are described, they are found
to be mere imaginary agencies, meaning nothing more than the course of
nature, or the laws of nature, which we have seen possess no independent
efficiency. To a divine agency, therefore, we must resort, or be left
without any adequate cause for the complicated and wonderful processes of
nature.

In the third place, this view of the subject is strongly confirmed by the
Christian Scriptures.

How universal is the divine agency represented in the well-known
passage--_for of him, and through him, and to him, are all things_.
Equally vivid is Paul's statement on Mars Hill--_In him we live, and move,
and have our being._ How graphic a description is the 147th Psalm of God's
agency in the natural world! Not only is all good ascribed to God, but
evil also. By the mouth of Isaiah he says, _I form light and create
darkness; I make peace and create evil; I the Lord do all these things._
In short, no event in the material or spiritual world is by the sacred
writers ascribed to chance, or to nature, or the laws of nature, as it is
among men; but to the direct efficiency of God. Nor is there any
difference in this respect between miracles and common events. The one
class is represented as originating in the agency of God, just as much as
the other.

Finally. It will hardly be thought strange, in view of the preceding
considerations, that a large proportion of the most acute and
philosophical minds in modern times have preferred this view of divine
providence to any other.

Sir Isaac Newton declares that the various parts of the world, organic and
inorganic, "can be the effect of nothing else than the wisdom and skill of
a powerful, ever-living Agent, who, being in all places, is more able by
his will to move the bodies within his boundless, uniform _sensorium_,
thereby to form and reform the parts of the universe, than we are by our
will to move the parts of our own bodies."

Says Dr. Clarke, the friend and disciple of Newton, "All things which we
commonly say are the effects of the natural powers of matter, and laws of
motion, are, indeed, if we will speak strictly and properly, the effects
of God's action upon matter continually, and at every moment, either
immediately by himself, or mediately by some created, intelligent being.
Consequently there is no such thing as the course of nature, or the power
of nature, independent of the effects produced by the will of God."

In speaking of the principle of vegetable life, Sir James Edward Smith,
the eminent botanist, says, "I humbly conceive that, if the human
understanding can in any case flatter itself with obtaining, in the
natural world, a glimpse of the _immediate agency_ of the Deity, it is in
the contemplation of this _vital principle_, which seems independent of
material organization, and an impulse, of his own divine
energy."--_Introduction to Botany_, p. 26, (Boston edition.)

"We would no way be understood," says Sir John Herschel, "to deny the
constant exercise of this [God's] direct power in maintaining the system
of nature, or the ultimate emanation of every energy, which material
agents exert, from his immediate will, acting in conformity with his own
laws."--_Discourse on Nat. Philosophy._

"A law," says Professor Whewell, "supposes an agent and a power; for it is
the mode according to which the agent proceeds, the order according to
which the power acts. Without the presence of such an agent, of such a
power, conscious of the relations on which the law depends, producing the
effects which the law prescribes, the law can have no efficiency, no
existence. Hence we infer that the intelligence by which the law is
ordained, the power by which it is put in action, must be present at all
times and in all places where the effects of the law occur; that thus the
knowledge and the agency of the divine Being pervades every portion of the
universe, producing all action and passion, all permanence and change. The
laws of nature are the laws which He, in his wisdom, prescribes to his own
acts; his universal presence is the necessary condition of any course of
events; his universal agency the only origin of any efficient
force."--_Bridgewater Treatise_, p. 270.

"The student in natural philosophy," observes the Bishop of London, "will
find rest from all those perplexities, which are occasioned by the
obscurity of causation, in the proposition which, although it was
discredited by the patronage of Malebranche and the Cartesians, has been
adopted by Clarke and Dugald Stewart, and which is by far the most simple
and sublime account of the matter--that all events which are continually
taking place in the different parts of the material universe are the
_immediate_ effects of the divine agency."--_Whewell's Bridgewater
Treatise_, p. 273.

"Jonathan Edwards," says M'Cosh in his Method of the Divine Government,
"somewhere illustrates the manner in which God upholds the universe, by
the way in which an image is upheld in a mirror. That image is maintained
by a continual flow of rays of light, each succeeding pencil of which
does not differ from that by which the image was first produced. He
conceives that the universe is, in every part of it, supported in a
similar way by a continual succession of acts of the divine will, and
these not differing from that which at first caused the world to spring
into existence. Now, it may be safely said of this theory that it cannot
be disproved. Several considerations may be urged in support of it."

Which of the views respecting divine providence that have been stated has
the best practical tendency, seems hardly to admit of doubt. If we believe
that God has submitted the direction and government of this world to a
subordinate agent, a plastic nature; or if we suppose he has impressed
matter and mind with certain general laws, which have the power of
executing themselves without his agency, and especially if in their
operation they do sometimes actually clash with one another, or even if
those laws extend to every movement of matter and mind,--still, if they do
not require divine efficiency, men cannot but feel that God is removed
from his works, and that the laws of nature, and not his agency, are their
security. But if they believe that every movement of matter or mind
requires a direct exercise of divine power or efficiency, just as much as
if every event was a miracle, it cannot but bring God near to us, and make
us realize his presence.

If we obtain a timepiece from London or Paris, which contains all the
springs and wheels requisite to keep it in operation, by occasionally
winding it up, how little do we think of the artist who constructed it,
except, perhaps, occasionally to admire his ingenuity! But if it had been
necessary for that artist to accompany the chronometer, and actually to
put forth the strength of his own arm every moment to keep it in motion,
how much more should we think of him and realize his presence! The same
effect, in a greater or less degree, will attend the belief that God must
be not only virtually, but substantially, present every where, and be
constantly exercising his power to keep in operation the vast machine of
the universe. It cannot but deeply impress the heart, and exert a most
salutary influence upon the affections, to realize that every event around
us is brought about by the immediate agency of the supreme Being.

But notwithstanding the salutary influence of this view of Providence upon
our moral feelings, and though philosophy pronounces it decidedly the most
reasonable, still it meets with strong opposition. I need not stop to
notice the objections, that it makes God the author of evil as well as
good, and that it represents man as a mere machine in the hands of the
Deity, and therefore takes away human responsibility. I say I need not
stop to answer such objections, because they lie equally strong against
any system which makes God the original author of the universe. But a more
plausible objection is, that it makes all events miraculous. This
objection is based on the supposition that every event which takes place
through the direct and immediate agency of God is a miracle. But is this
the true meaning of a miracle? Is the term ever applied to any but
extraordinary events? It may or it may not imply a contravention of the
laws of nature. But it does always imply something which the laws of
nature cannot produce, and which, of course, they cannot explain. It is
always the result of some new force coming in to the aid of the laws of
nature, or in the place of them, or even sometimes, perhaps, in opposition
to them; as when the _sun stood still upon Gibeon, and the moon in the
valley of Ajalon_. Hence an event may take place through the direct and
immediate agency of God, and yet not be a miracle. If it be neither
above, nor independent of, nor in opposition to the laws of nature, then
it forms a part of the ordinary providence of God; it is a part of the
usual, the fixed and uniform course of nature, and can be explained by
known and unalterable laws. The nature of the event is not affected at all
by the question whether it is produced by the direct efficiency of God, or
by a power inherent in those laws. We, who believe that the direct
efficiency of God is necessary to the operation, and even to the
existence, of the laws of nature, are just as firm believers in the
constancy of those laws as he who supposes them possessed of inherent
powers. When that constancy is interrupted in any way, we call it a
miracle. Hence it appears that our views of the nature of a miracle are
the same as his, viz., an event which takes place out of the ordinary
course of nature; and, therefore, our system is no more liable to the
objection that all events are made miracles than his system.

The way is now prepared for inquiring what geology teaches respecting the
ordinary and extraordinary providence of God over this world.

The evidences of ordinary providence, which are common to geology and
other sources of proof, I shall pass by; both because they are familiar to
all, and because I have, in a former lecture, shown the existence and
operation of the present laws of nature in all past ages. But there is one
feature of the past condition of the world taught by geology to which I
would call your attention, as exhibiting a more impressive view of the
wisdom and skill of ordinary providence than almost any other department
of nature presents. When the heavenly bodies are once put under the
control of the two great forces that guide them, viz., the centrifugal and
centripetal, we see no reason why they may not move on forever in their
accustomed paths. But the two great agents of geological change, fire and
water, have an aspect of great irregularity and violence, and are
apparently less under the control of mathematical laws. In the mighty
intensity of their action in early times, we can hardly see how there
could have been much of security or permanence in the state of the globe,
without the constant restraining energy of Jehovah. We feel as if the
earth's crust must have been constantly liable to be torn in pieces by
volcanic fires, or drenched by sweeping deluges. And yet the various
economies of life on the globe, that have preceded the present, have all
been seasons of profound repose and uniformity. The truth is, these mighty
agencies have been just as much under the divine control as those which
regulate the heavenly bodies; and I doubt not but the laws that regulate
their action are as fixed and mathematical as those which guide the sun,
moon, and planets. Still, it must have required infinite wisdom and power
so to arrange the agencies of nature that the desolating action of fire
and water should take place only at those epochs when every thing was in
readiness for the ruin of an old economy and the introduction of a new
one. Geological agencies differ from astronomical in this--that the former
must be allowed an irregular action within certain limits; whereas the
latter act with unvarying uniformity in all circumstances. If the former
had not some room for irregular action, they would not act at all; but if
allowed too much liberty, they will destroy what they were intended to
preserve. And God does restrain, and always has restrained them, just at
the point where desolation would be the result of their more powerful
operation. I do not, indeed, contend that it requires more power or wisdom
to bind those mighty agencies within proper limits than to control the
heavenly bodies. But to our limited faculties it certainly seems a more
difficult work; and, therefore, the geological history of the globe gives
us a more impressive idea of the ordinary providence of God than we see in
the calm and uniform movements of nature around us.

_In the second place, geology furnishes us with some very striking
examples of miraculous providence._

In disproving the eternity of the organic world, in a former lecture, I
adduced and illustrated these examples so fully, that I shall do little
more in this place than give a recapitulation of that argument.

If we suppose the earth originally to have been merely a diffused mass of
vapor, like comets, or nebulae, I can conceive how, by the operation of
such natural laws as now exist, it might have been condensed into a solid
globe; into a melted state, indeed, from the amount of heat extricated in
the condensation. Those same laws might subsequently form over the molten
mass a solid crust, which, at length, might be ridged and furrowed by the
action of internal heat, so as to form the basis of continents and the
beds of oceans. In due time, the vapors might condense, so as to fill
those basins with water; and, by the mutual and alternate action of the
waters above and the heat beneath, the rocks might be comminuted, so as to
form the basis of soils. So far might the arrangements of the world have
proceeded by natural laws; in other words, by the ordinary providence of
God. But at this point we must bring in an extraordinary agency of the
Deity, or the world would have remained, in the expressive language of
revelation, _without form and void_; that is, invisible and unfurnished.
You have, indeed, the framework of a world, but the most difficult and
complicated part of the work, the creation of plants and animals, remains
yet to be performed. Here, then, is the precise point where you must call
in the miraculous agency of the Deity, or the earth would forever remain
an uninhabited waste. For if it does not require miraculous agency to
bring into existence animals and plants, I know not what can require it,
or prove its operation. I can almost as easily conceive how matter might
spring from nothing fortuitously, certainly I can as easily conceive of
its eternity, as that organism and life can result from the ordinary laws
of nature.

It may be, however, that I shall here be met by the statement, that some
distinguished geologists maintain the probable existence of organized
beings on the globe at an indefinitely earlier period than that in which
their remains first appear in the rocks. They contend that the extreme
heat which has melted the older rocks has obliterated all traces of
organic existence below a certain line. Now, in order to meet this
difficulty, it is not necessary to show this opinion to be erroneous. We
have only to advance another step in our general argument, which brings us
upon ground admitted to be good by the geologists above alluded to. They
all of them believe that many new animals and plants have from time to
time appeared on the globe; that, in fact, there have been several almost
entire changes in its inhabitants. Most of them suppose these new races to
have been introduced in large numbers at particular epochs, though some
prefer the theory which supposes the new species to have been introduced
one by one, as the old ones became extinct. But even this supposition does
not essentially affect my argument; because they all allow that these
successive species were really new, and could not have been the result of
any metamorphosis of the old species. And it is the fact that new organic
beings have, from time to time, been created, that is alone essential to
my argument. Whether they were created by groups or singly, is an
interesting geological question; but, in either case, miraculous power
must have been put forth as really and as efficiently to call into
existence a single new species of animalcula, or sea-weed, as to introduce
an entirely new race. The successive economies of organic life that have
existed on the earth, and passed from it, do most unequivocally
demonstrate the extraordinary or miraculous providence of God.

But we might abandon even this strong ground of our argument, and still
geology would afford us a most unequivocal example of the creative agency
of the Deity. That science shows, beyond all question, that man, and most
of his contemporary races of animals and plants, have not always occupied
this globe; and, indeed, that they were not placed upon it till nearly
every form buried in the rocks had passed away. And since those races
which now inhabit the globe have among them a larger proportion of highly
organized and more complicated species than have ever before been
contemporaries,--especially since man is among them, confessedly the most
perfect in organization and in intellect of all the beings that ever
occupied this planet,--we can here point to the highest exercise of
creative power ever exhibited in this lower world, as a certain memento of
God's extraordinary or miraculous providence. Indeed, who, that has any
adequate idea of the wonders of man's intellectual, moral, and immortal
nature, and of the strange extremes that meet and harmonize in his
physical and intellectual constitution, will believe that any loftier
miracle has ever been exhibited on this globe than his creation?

But I have already dwelt so long upon this whole argument in a former
lecture, that I will add no more in this place. If the facts which I have
stated do not prove the miraculous agency of the Deity in past ages, I
know not how it can be proved. But assuming this position to be
established, and several inferences of importance will follow.

_In the first place, this subject removes all philosophical presumption
against a special revelation from heaven._

If we can prove that the Deity has often so interfered with the course of
nature as to introduce new species, nay, whole races of animals and plants
upon the globe,--if, in a comparatively recent period, he has created a
moral and immortal being, endowed with all the powers of a free and an
accountable agent,--it would surely be no more wonderful if he should
communicate to that being his will by a written revelation. Indeed, the
benevolence of the Deity, as we learn it from nature, would create a
presumption that such a revelation would be given, if it appear, as we
know it does, that no sufficient knowledge is inherent in his nature to
guide him in the path of duty; since such a revelation would be no greater
miracle than to people the world, originally destitute of life, and then
to repeople it again and again, with so vast a variety of organic natures.
Philosophy has sometimes been disinclined to admit the claims of
revelation, because it implies a supernatural agency of the Deity; and,
until recently, revelation seemed to be a solitary example of special
interference on the part of Jehovah. But geology adds other examples, long
anterior to revelation--examples registered, like the laws of Sinai, on
tables of stone. And the admission of the geological evidence of special
interference with the regular sequence of nature's operations ought to
predispose the mind for listening to the appropriate proofs of a moral
communication to ignorant and erring man.

_In the second place, the subject shows us how groundless is the famous
objection to the miracles recorded in Scripture, founded on the position
that they are contrary to experience._

"It is," says Mr. Hume, "a maxim worthy of our attention, that no
testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of
such a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact
which it endeavors to establish." Hence he asserts, that "the evidence of
testimony, when applied to a miracle, carries falsehood on the very face
of it, and is more properly a subject of derision than of argument," and
that "whoever believes the Christian religion is conscious of a continued
miracle in his own person, which subverts all the principles of his
understanding, and gives him a determination to believe what is most
contrary to custom and experience."

At the time when Mr. Hume wrote, and with his great skill in weaving
together metaphysical subtilties, such an argument might deceive
superficial minds; for then a miracle was supposed to be contrary to all
experience. But geology has disclosed many new chapters in the world's
history, and shown the existence of miracles earlier than chronological
dates. Even Mr. Hume would hardly deny that the creation of whole series
of animals and plants was miraculous; and yet, in proof of that creation,
we need not depend upon testimony; for we can read it with our own eyes
upon the solid rocks. Such proof appeals directly to our common sense; nor
can any ingenious quibble, concerning the nature of human testimony,
weaken its influence in producing conviction.

And if God has wrought stupendous miracles of creation in order to people
the world, who does not see that it is still more probable he would
perform other miracles when they were needed to substantiate a revelation
of his will to those moral and accountable beings, who needed its special
teachings to make them acquainted with their God, their duty, and their
destiny?

_Finally. The subject removes all presumption against the exercise of a
special and miraculous providence in the divine government of the world._

In all ages of the world, philosophers, and even many theologians, have
been strenuous opposers of special and miraculous providence. If they have
admitted, as most of the latter class have done, that some miracles were
performed in ancient times, they have strenuously maintained that the
doctrine of special providence in these days is absurd, and that God
cannot, without a miracle, bestow any special favors upon the virtuous in
answer to their prayers, or inflict any special punishments upon the
wicked; and that it is fanaticism to expect any other retributions than
such as the ordinary and unmodified course of nature brings along with it.

The unvarying constancy of nature, in consequence of being governed by
fixed laws, is the grand argument which they adduce in opposition to any
supposed special providence. _Since the fathers fell asleep_, say they,
_all things continue as they were from the beginning._ God has subjected
the world to the government of laws, and he will not interfere with,
counteract, set aside, or give a supernatural force to those laws, to meet
particular exigencies. For the adjustment of all apparent inequalities of
good and evil, suffering and enjoyment here, we must wait for the
disclosure of eternity, when strict retributive Justice will hold her even
scales. When natural evils come upon us, therefore, it is idle to expect
their removal, except so far as they may be mitigated or overcome by
natural means; and hence it is useless to pray for their removal, or to
expect God will deliver us from them in any other way. When the heavens
over us become brass, and the earth under our feet iron, and the rain of
our land is powder and dust, and want, and famine, as the consequence,
stalk forth among the inhabitants, of what use to pray to God for rain,
since to give it would require a miracle, and the age of miracles has
passed? When the pestilence is scouring through the land, and our
neighbors and nearest friends are within its grasp, and we may next become
its victims,--nay, when we, too, are on the borders of the grave,--why
should we expect relief by prayer, since sickness is the result of natural
causes, and God will not interpose to save us from the effects of natural
evils, because that would be contrary to a fixed rule of his government?
When dangers cluster around the good man in the discharge of trying
duties, it would be enthusiasm in him to expect any special protection
against his enemies, though he pray ever so fervently, and trust in divine
deliverance with ever so much confidence. He must look to another world
for his reward, if called to suffer here. Nor has the daringly wicked man
any reason to fear that God will punish his violations of the divine law
by any unusual display of his power; not in any way, indeed, but by the
evils which naturally flow from a wicked life. In short, it will be
useless to pray for any blessing that requires the least interference with
natural laws, or for the removal of any evil which depends upon those
laws. And since our minds are controlled as much by laws as the functions
of our bodies, we are not to expect any blessings in our souls, which
require the least infringement of intellectual laws. In fine, the effect
of prayer is limited almost entirely to its influence upon our own hearts,
in preparing them to receive with a proper spirit natural blessings, and
to bear aright natural evils; to stimulate us to use with more diligence
the means of avoiding or removing the latter, and securing the former.

Not a few philosophers of distinction, and some theologians, have adopted
these views. Even Dr. Thomas Brown uses the following language: "It is
quite evident that even Omnipotence, which cannot do what is
contradictory, cannot combine both advantages--the advantage of regular
order in the sequences of nature, and the advantages of a uniform
adaptation of the particular circumstances of the individual. We may take
our choice, but we cannot think of a combination of both; and if, as is
very obvious, the greater advantage be that of uniformity of operation, we
must not complain of the evils to which that very uniformity which we
cannot fail to prefer--if the option had been allowed us--has been the
very circumstance that gave rise."--_Lecture 94._

"Science," says George Combe, "has banished from the minds of profound
thinkers belief in the exercise by the Deity, in our day, of special acts
of supernatural power, as a means of influencing human affairs; and it has
presented a systematic order of nature, which man may study, comprehend,
and follow, as a guide to his practical conduct. Many educated laymen, and
also a number of the clergy, have declined to recognize fasts,
humiliations, and prayers, as means adapted, according to their views, to
avert the recurrence of the evil, [the potato blight.] Indeed, these
observances, inasmuch as they mislead the public mind with respect to its
causes, are regarded by such persons as positive evils."

"The most irreligious of all religious notions, as it seems to us," says
the North American Review, "is a belief in special providences; for if the
doctrine has any weight at all, it is gained at the expense of a general
providence. To assume to detect God as nearer to us on some occasions is
to put him farther off from us on other occasions. To have him in special
incidents is to forget him in the common tenor of events. The doctrine of
special providences evidently has no other foundation than this, that men
_think they can detect_ God's purpose and presence more signally in some
incidents than in others; so that the doctrine, after all, is only a
compliment to man's power of detection, instead of an acknowledgment of
God's special presence."

Such views and reasonings seem, upon a superficial examination, to be very
plausible. But when we look into the Bible, we cannot but see that the
main drift of it is directly opposed to such notions. That book does
encourage man to pray to God for the removal of evils of every kind; evils
as much dependent upon natural laws as the daily course of the sun through
the heavens. It does teach us to look to God in every trying situation for
deliverance, if it is best for us to be delivered. It does represent the
wicked man as in danger of special punishment. It exhibits a multitude of
examples, in which God has thus delivered those who trusted in him, and
punished those who violated his laws.

In every age, too, the most devotedly pious men have testified, that they
have found deliverance and support in circumstances in which mere natural
laws could afford them no relief. Moreover, when men are brought into
great peril or suffering of any kind, they involuntarily cry to God for
help. When the vessel founders in the fury of the storm, the hardened
sailor employs that breath in ardent prayer which just before had been
poured out in blasphemies. And when the widowed mother hears the tempest
howling around her dwelling at night, she cannot but pray for the
protection of her child upon the treacherous sea. When violent disease
racks the frame, and we feel ourselves rapidly sinking into the grave, it
is scarcely in human nature to omit crying to God with a feeling that he
can save us. In short, it is a dictate of nature to call upon God in times
of trouble. Our reasoning about the constancy of nature, which appears to
us while in safety so clearly to show prayer for the removal of natural
evils to be useless, loses its power, and the feelings of the heart
triumph. It now becomes, therefore, an important practical question, which
of these views of the providence of God is correct. Is it those which our
reasoning derives from the constancy of nature, or those inspired by piety
and the Bible? I have already said, that the subject of this lecture
removes all presumption against the latter view; and I now proceed to show
how God can exercise a special providence over the world, so as to meet
the case of every individual, whether for blessing or punishment, and
that, too, without miracles.

Whoever believes that geology discloses stupendous miracles of creation,
at various epochs, will not doubt that all presumption against miraculous
agency at any other time is thus removed. For we are thus shown that the
law of miracles forms a part of the divine plan in the government of the
world. But this does not prove the same to be the fact in respect to a law
of special providence.

It is indeed true that geology gives us no distinct examples of special
providence, in the sense which we have attached to that term in the
present lecture. But it does furnish a multitude of instances in which
changes of physical condition in the earth were met by most wisely adapted
changes of organic nature. And even though these changes were the result
of miraculous agency, they disclose this principle of the divine
government, viz., that peculiarities of condition are to be met by special
arrangements, so that every exigency shall be provided for in the manner
infinite wisdom sees to be best. Now, this principle constitutes the
essence of special providence; and, therefore, geology, in showing its
past operation in the world's early organic history, affords a presumption
that the same unchanging God may still employ it in his natural and moral
government.

But does not this principle of special adaptation to individual exigencies
demand miraculous agency in all cases? Can the wants of individuals be met
in any other way than by miracles, or by the ordinary and settled laws of
nature? I maintain that there are other modes in which this can be done;
in which, in fact, every case requiring special interference can be met
exactly and fully.

_This can be done, in the first place, by a divine influence exerted upon
the human mind, unperceived by the individual._

If it were perceived, it would constitute a miracle. But can we doubt that
the Author of mind should be able to influence it directly and indirectly,
unperceived by the man so acted upon? Even man can do this to his fellow;
and shall such a power be denied to God?

Now, in many cases,--I do not say all,--it only needs that the minds of
others should be inclined to do so and so towards a man, in order to place
him in circumstances most unlike those that would have surrounded him
without such an influence. Even the very elements, being to some extent
under human control, can thus be made subservient, or adverse, to an
individual; and, indeed, by a change in the feelings and conduct of others
towards us, by an unseen influence upon their minds, our whole outward
condition may be changed. In this way, therefore, can God, in many
instances, confer blessings on the virtuous, or execute punishment upon
the wicked, or give special answers to special prayer; and yet there
shall be no miracle about it, nor even the slightest violation of a law of
matter or of mind. The result may seem to us only the natural effect of
those laws, and yet the divine influence may have modified the effect to
any extent.

_In the second place, God can so modify the second causes of events out of
our sight, as to change wholly, or in part, the final result, and yet not
disturb the usual order of nature within sight, so that there shall be no
miracle._

A miracle requires that the usual order of nature, as man sees it, be
interrupted, or some force superadded to her agency. But if such change
take place out of our sight, it might not disturb that order within sight;
and, therefore, to us it would be no miracle.

The mode in which this can be done depends upon the fact that in nature we
often find several causes, essential to produce an effect, connected
together, as it were, in a chain; so that each link depends upon that
which precedes it. Thus the power of vision depends upon the optic nerve,
in the bottom of the eye. But this would be useless, were not the coats
and humors of the eye of a certain consistence and curvature, in order to
bring the rays together to form an image on the retina. Again, these coats
and humors depend upon light, and light depends for its transmission,
probably, upon that exceedingly elastic medium called the _luminiferous
ether_. This is as far back as we can trace the series of causes concerned
in producing vision. And yet this elastic ether may depend upon something
else, and this cause of the movement of the ether upon another cause; and
we know not how long the chain may be before we reach the great First
Cause. Now, if any one of this series of second causes be modified, the
effect will be a modification of the final result. This supposed
modification may take place in that part of the chain of causes within our
view, or in that part concealed from us. If it took place within sight, it
would constitute a miracle; because the regular sequence of cause and
effect would be broken off, or an unnatural power be imparted to the cause
producing the ultimate effect. If the modification took place in that part
of the chain of second causes out of our sight, the final effect would be
no miracle; because it would be brought about by natural laws, and these
would perfectly explain it. Nevertheless, this ultimate effect would be
different from what it would be if God had not touched and modified that
link of causation which lies out of our sight, back among the secret
agencies of his will. And I see not but in this way he might modify the
ultimate effect as much as he pleased, and still preserve the unvarying
constancy of nature. For in all these cases we should see only the links
of the chain of causes nearest to us; and, provided they operated in their
usual order, how could we know that any change had taken place in the
region beyond our knowledge? If the whole chain of causation were open to
our inspection, then, indeed, would the transaction be an obvious miracle;
but now we see nothing but the unchanging operation of natural laws.

To illustrate this principle, let us imagine a few examples. Suppose the
land visited by drought, and its pious inhabitants assemble to pray for
rain. We know very well that the causes on which a storm of rain depend
are very complicated. How easy for the divine Being, in answer to those
prayers, to modify one or more of these secret agencies of meteorological
change, that are concealed from our sight, so as to bring together the
vapors over the land and condense them into rain! And yet that storm shall
have nothing about it unusual, and it results from the same laws which we
have before seen to be in operation. Still, it may have been the result of
a special agency exerted by Jehovah in answer to prayer, yet in such a
manner that no known law of nature is infringed upon, or even rendered
more powerful in its action.

Equally intricate and complicated are the causes of disease, and
especially of those pestilences that sometimes march over a whole
continent, with the angel of death in their train; and alike easy is it
for God, in answer to earnest prayer, to avert their progress, or to
<DW36> their power, or turn them aside from a particular district,
without the least interference with the visible connection of cause and
effect.

The beloved father of a family lies upon a bed of sickness, and disease is
fast gaining upon the powers of life. His numerous and desolate family, in
spite of the cold suggestion that it will be of no avail, will earnestly
beseech the Being in whose hands is the power of disease, to arrest the
fatal malady. And could not their Father in heaven, in the way I have
pointed out, give them their request, and yet their parent's recovery be
the natural result of careful nursing and medical skill? imposing,
however, upon that family as great an obligation as if a manifest miracle
had been wrought to save him.

The widow's only son, in spite of her counsels and entreaties, becomes a
vagabond upon the seas, and, at length, one of the crew of the battle
ship. The perils of the deep and of vicious companions are enough to make
that widow a daily and most earnest suppliant at the mercy-seat of her
heavenly Father, for his protection and salvation. But, at length, war
breaks out, and the perils of battle render his fate more doubtful. Still,
faith in God buoys up her heart, and she cannot abandon the hope of yet
seeing her son returned, reformed, and becoming a useful man. And at
length, rescued from the storm and shipwreck, and the carnage of battle,
and the yet more dangerous snares of sin, that youth returns, a renovated
man, and cheers that mother's setting sun by an eminently useful life.
Now, all this may have happened simply by the operation of natural laws.
But it may also have been the result of divine interference in answer to
prayer; and hard will you find it to convince that rejoicing mother that
the hand of God's extraordinary providence was not in it.

The devoted missionary, at the promptings of a voice within, quits a land
of safety and peace, and finds himself in the midst of dangers and
sufferings of almost every name; _in perils of waters, in perils of
robbers, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in weariness,
in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and
nakedness_. The furnace of persecution is heated, and he performs his
duties with his life constantly in his hand. But he uses no weapon save
faith and prayer. He feels that "he is immortal till his work is done."
And, in fact, he outlives all his dangers, and, in venerable old age,
surrounded by the fruits of his labor,--a reformed and affectionate
people,--he passes quietly into the abodes of the blessed. Here, again,
why should we hesitate to refer his protection and deliverance to the
special interposition of his heavenly Father, in the manner I have pointed
out?

On the other hand, the history of dreadfully wicked men is full of
terrible examples of calamity and suffering, as the consequence of their
sins. True, the evil came upon them apparently by the operation of natural
laws; but shall we hence infer that God in no case has so modified these
laws, by an agency among the hidden causes of events, as to make the
result certain? He certainly could do this; and to say that he never has
done it, is to remove one of the most powerful restraints that operate
upon the wicked.

In several examples recorded in the Bible, both of deliverance for the
virtuous and of punishment for the wicked, so many natural agencies are
concerned, that we are left in doubt whether the events are to be regarded
as miraculous or not. Let the deluge, the destruction of Sodom, and the
passage of the Israelites through the Red Sea, serve as examples. In the
first, we find the flood imputed to a forty days' rain and the overflowing
of the ocean; and its reduction to a wind. In the destruction of the
cities of the plain, the phenomena described correspond very well with the
effects of volcanic agency; and we find accordingly that the region where
those cities stood shows marks of that agency. In the passage of the Red
Sea, the removal of the waters, to allow the Israelites to pass, is
imputed to a strong east wind all night. Nevertheless, the pillar of a
cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night were a manifest and standing
miracle in this transaction.

Now, may it not be that, in all these cases, so far as natural agencies
were concerned, they were made to conspire with the miraculous in the
manner which I have described, viz., by such a modification of some of the
remote causes by which they were brought into action, as exactly to answer
the divine purpose in the catastrophe of the deluge, of Sodom, and in the
passage of the Red Sea?

_A third mode by which the purposes of special providence can be brought
about without miracles is by such an adjustment of the direct and lateral
influences on which events depend, that the time and manner of their
occurrence shall exactly meet every exigency._

Although it expresses a truth to represent the second causes of events as
constituting the links of a chain, it is not the whole truth. For, in
fact, those causes are connected together in the form of a network, or,
more exactly still, by a sphere filled with interlocked meshes; or, to
speak more mathematically, the forces by which events are produced are
both direct and indirect. It would be easy to calculate the effect of a
single direct force; but if, in its progress, it meets with a multitude of
oblique impulses, striking it at every possible angle, what human
mathematics can make out the final resultant? Yet, in fact, such is the
history of almost every event. The lateral influences, which meet and
modify the direct force, are so numerous, and unexpected often, that men
are amazed at the result, sometimes as unexpected as a miracle. "When an
individual," says Isaac Taylor, "receives an answer to his prayer, the
interposition may be made, not in the line which he himself is describing,
but in one of those which are to meet him on his path; and at a point,
therefore, where, even though the visible constancy of nature should be
violated, yet, as being at the time beyond the sphere of his observation,
it is a violation not visible to him." "And herein is especially
manifested the perfection of divine wisdom, that the most surprising
conjunctions of events are brought about by the simplest means, and in a
manner that is perfectly in harmony with the ordinary course of human
affairs. This is, in fact, the great miracle of providence, that no
miracles are needed to accomplish its purposes."--_Nat. History of
Enthusiasm_, p. 128.

This complication of causes does not merely give variety to the works and
operations of nature, but it enables God to produce effects which could
never have resulted from each law acting singly; nor is there a scarcely
conceivable limit to these modifications. Indeed, in this way can
Providence accomplish all his beneficent purposes, and meet every
individual case, just as infinite wisdom would have it met. "By this
agency," says M'Cosh, "God can at one time increase, and at another time
lessen, or completely nullify, the spontaneous efforts of the fixed
properties of matter. Now he can make the most powerful agents in
nature--such as wind, fire, and disease--coincide and cooperate to produce
effects of such a tremendous magnitude as none of them separately could
accomplish; and again, he can arrest their influence by counteracting
agencies, or, rather, by making them counteract each other. He can, for
instance, by a concurrence of natural laws, bring a person, who is in the
enjoyment of health at present, to the very borders of death, an hour or
an instant hence; and he can, by a like means, suddenly restore the same
or another individual to health, after he has been on the very verge of
the grave. By the confluence of two or more streams, he can bring agencies
of tremendous potency to bear upon the production of a given effect, such
as a war, a pestilence, or a revolution; and, on the other hand, by
drawing aside the stream into another channel, he can arrest, at any given
instant, the awful effects that would otherwise follow from these
agencies, and save an individual, a family, or a nation, from the evils
which seem ready to burst upon them.

"Guided by these principles and guarded by sound sense, the inquiring mind
will discover many and wonderful designed connections between the various
events of divine providence. Read in the spirit of faith, striking
coincidences will every where manifest themselves. What singular unions of
two streams at the proper place to help on the exertions of the great and
good! What curious intersections of cords to catch the wicked as in a
net, when they are prowling as wild beasts! By strange but most apposite
correspondences, human strength, when set against the will of God, is made
to waste away under God's indignation burning against it, as, in heathen
story, Meleager wasted away as the stick burned which his mother held in
the fire."--_Method of the Divine Government_, pp. 176, 203.

In many cases, the lateral streams of influence that flow in and bring
unexpected relief to the pious man, and unexpected punishment to the
wicked, or a marked answer to prayer, seem to the individuals little short
of miraculous. Yet, after all, they can see no violation of the natural
order of cause and effect. But the wonder is, how the modifying influence
should come in just at the right moment. It may, indeed, have received a
commission to do this very thing from the immediate impulse of Jehovah;
yet, being unperceived by us, it is no miracle. Or the whole plan may have
been so arranged at the beginning that its development will meet every
case of special providence exactly. Which of these views may be most
accordant with truth, may admit of discussion. Yet we think that all the
modes that have been pointed out, by which miraculous and special
providences are brought about, may be referred to one general proposition,
which we now proceed to state.

_In the fourth place, the plan of the universe in the divine mind, at the
beginning, must have embraced every case of miracles and of special
providence._

From the nature of the divine attributes we infer with certainty that
every event occurring in the universe must have entered into the original
plan of creation in the mind of God. Surely no one will deny that he must
have foreseen the operation of every law which he established, and,
consequently, every event which it would produce. But there must be some
ground for foreknowledge to rest upon; otherwise it is conjecture, not
knowledge. And what could that basis be but the divine plan?

Equally clear is it that, whatever plans existed in the mind of God, when
he brought the universe into existence, must always have been there. For
to suppose that there was a point of duration when the plan was first
conceived, would imply new knowledge in one confessedly omniscient; and
that destroys the idea of omniscience.

Similar reasoning from the nature of the divine attributes leads us to the
conclusion that God always acts according to law. That he does this in the
ordinary operations of nature, all admit. But even when he introduces a
miracle,--perhaps by a counteraction of ordinary laws,--he may still act
by some rule; so that, were precisely the same circumstances to occur
again, the same miracle would be repeated. Beforehand, we could not say
whether God would conduct the affairs of the universe by one unvarying
system of natural laws, or occasionally interfere with the regular
sequence of cause and effect by miracle. But though the latter course
should be adopted, as we have reason to think it is, even the special
interference must be according to law; so that, in fact, there is a law of
miracles as well as of common events. Again, if God sometimes alters one
or more of the links out of sight, in a chain of second causes, in order
to meet a providential exigency, or if he modifies for the same purpose
some of the oblique influences by which events are affected, all this must
be done by rule; that is, by law. Indeed, to suppose him ever to act
without law, is to represent him as less wise than men, who, if
judicious, are always governed by settled principles, which produce the
same conduct in the same circumstances.

From this reasoning we may safely infer two things: first, that the laws
regulating miracles and special providences are as fixed and certain as
those of ordinary events; and secondly, that those laws must have formed a
part of the plan of creation originally existing in the divine mind. And
hence, thirdly, we must admit that every case of miracle and special
providence must have entered into that plan.

When he formed it, he foresaw every possible event that would result from
its operation to the end of the world. He saw distinctly the condition of
every individual of the human family, from the beginning to the close of
life; all his dangers and trials, his sufferings and his sins; and he knew
just when and where every prayer would be offered up. Nor can it be any
more doubtful that, with infinite wisdom to guide him, and infinite power
to execute his will, God could so have arranged and constituted the laws
of nature, as to meet exactly every case that should ever occur, just in
the way he would wish to have it met. Those laws might have been so framed
and disposed that, after running on in one unvarying course for ages, a
new one might come in, or the old ones be modified, and at once produce
effects quite different, and then the first laws resume again their usual
course. And the new or modified law might be made to produce its
extraordinary or peculiar effects just at the moment when some miracle or
special providence would be needed. Thus what would be to us a special or
miraculous interposition of divine power, might be the foreseen and
foreordained result of God's original purpose. And if we can conceive how
such an effect could be produced once, we cannot doubt that infinite
wisdom and power could in like manner meet every possible case in which
what we call special and miraculous providence would be needed. With our
limited powers, we are obliged, after constructing a complicated machine,
to put it into operation before we can judge certainly of its effects; and
then, if our wishes are not met, we must alter the parts, or in some other
way meet the new cases that occur; and hence we find it difficult to
conceive how it can be otherwise with God. But he saw the operation of the
vast machine of the universe just as clearly at the beginning as at any
subsequent period. He, therefore, can do at the beginning what we can do
only after experience, viz., adapt the parts to every variety of
circumstances.

If I mistake not, we are indebted to Bishop Butler for the germ of these
views; but Professor Babbage has illustrated them by reference to an
extraordinary machine of his own invention, called "The Calculating
Engine." It is adapted to perform the most extensive and complicated
numerical calculations, of course with absolute certainty, because its
parts are arranged by certain laws. And he finds that precisely such
effects, on a small scale, can be produced by this machine, as have been
imputed above to the divine agency in creation. It is moved by a weight
and a wheel which turns at a short interval around its axis, and prints a
series of natural numbers,--1, 2, 3, 4, 5, &c.,--each exceeding its
antecedent by unity. "Now, reader, let me ask you," says Professor
Babbage, "how long you will have counted before you are firmly convinced
that the engine, supposing its adjustments to remain unaltered, will
continue, whilst its motion is maintained, to produce the same series of
natural numbers. Some minds, perhaps, are so constituted that, after
passing the first hundred terms, they will be satisfied that they are
acquainted with the law. After seeing five hundred terms, few will doubt;
and after the fifty thousandth term, the propensity to believe the
succeeding term will be fifty thousand and one, will be almost
irresistible. That term will be fifty thousand and one; the same regular
succession will continue; the five millionth and the fifty millionth term
will appear in their expected order, and one unbroken chain of numbers
will pass before you, from one up to one hundred millions. True to the
vast induction which has thus been made, the next succeeding term will be
one hundred millions and one; but after that, the next number presented by
the rim of the wheel, instead of being one hundred millions and two, is
one hundred millions ten thousand and two.

"The law which seemed to govern this series fails at the one hundred
million and second term. That term is larger than we expected by ten
thousand. The next term is larger than was anticipated by thirty thousand.
If we still continue to observe the numbers presented by the wheel, we
shall find that for a hundred, or even for a thousand terms, they continue
to follow the new law relating to the triangular numbers; but after
watching them for twenty-seven hundred and sixty-one terms, we find that
this law fails in the case of the twenty-seven hundred and sixty-second
term. If we continue to observe, another law then comes into action. This
will continue through fourteen hundred and thirty terms, when a new law is
again introduced, which extends over about nine hundred and fifty terms;
and this, too, like all its predecessors, fails, and gives place to other
laws, which appear at different intervals. It is also possible so to
arrange the engine, that at any periods, however remote, the first law
shall be interrupted for one or more times, and be superseded by any
other laws, after which the original law shall be again produced, and no
other deviation shall ever take place.

"Now, it must be remarked that the law that each number presented by the
engine is greater by unity than the preceding number, which law the
observer had deduced from an induction of a hundred million of instances,
was not the true law that regulated its action; and that the occurrence of
the number one hundred million ten thousand and two at the one hundred
million and second term was as necessary a consequence of the original
adjustment as was the regular succession of any one of the intermediate
numbers to its immediate antecedent. The same remark applies to the next
apparent deviation from the new law, which was founded on an induction of
two thousand seven hundred and sixty-one terms; and to all the succeeding
laws, with this limitation only, that whilst their consecutive
introduction at various definite intervals is a necessary consequence of
the mechanical structure of the engine, our knowledge of analysis does not
yet enable us to predict the periods at which the more distant laws will
be introduced."--_Ninth Bridgewater Treatise._

The application of these statements to the doctrine of special as well as
of miraculous providence is very obvious. If human ingenuity can construct
a machine which shall exhibit the introduction of new laws, after the old
ones had been established by an induction of a hundred million of
examples, and these new ones be succeeded by others, how much easier for
the infinite God to construct the vast and more complicated machine of the
universe, so that new laws, or modifications of the old ones, shall be
introduced at various periods of its history, to meet every exigency! How
easy for him so to adjust this machine at the beginning, that the new laws
and new modes of action should be introduced, precisely at those points
where a special providence would be desirable, to reward the virtuous and
to punish the wicked, and then the old law again assume its dominion! And
how easily, in this way, could the case of every individual be met, from
the beginning to the end of the world! I mean, how easy would this work be
to infinite wisdom and power!

But if all events, miraculous as well as common, may depend upon unbending
law, how does such a view differ from the one I am now opposing, viz.,
that the constancy of nature's laws precludes the idea of any special
interference on the part of God, in human affairs? The main point of
difference, I reply, is, that the advocates of the latter view will not
admit any such thing at the present day as special interference, on the
part of the Deity, with nature. They admit only uniform and ordinary laws,
which they suppose are never interrupted. This I deny; and endeavor to
show, not only that the contrary may be a fact, but that God purposed it
originally, and determined the laws by which it might be accomplished. The
fact that he did this beforehand, even from eternity, no more precludes
his agency, than the special interference of a father to help his child
through a dangerous pass is disproved, because he foresaw the danger and
provided the means of defence even before the child was born. If the
father was actually with the child, as he went through the danger, and
held out to him the requisite help, what difference could it make, though
the father purposed to do so a long time previously? And if we admit that
God's efficiency alone gives power to the ordinary laws of nature, we
shall admit that in every special law he is as really present with his
energy, as a father who should lead his child by the hand through the
dangerous path. So that, practically at least, the difference between
these two views of the subject is very great; the one removing God far
away, and putting law in his place; and the other bringing him near, and
making him the actual and constant agent in every event. The one view is
practical atheism, although often adopted by religious men; the other is
practical Christianity.

By the principles of physical science, then, the scriptural doctrines of
miraculous and special providence are proved to be in accordance with
philosophy. The miracles of revelation are shown to have been preceded by
the miracles of geology; and are, therefore, in conformity with the
principles of the divine government. The modifications which God can make
in the causes of events out of human view, or the changes which he can
produce by lateral influences upon the final result,--all, it may be, in
conformity to an eternal plan, reaching the minutest of human
affairs,--enable him to execute every purpose of special providence so as
to satisfy every exigency.

The sceptic may say, that we cannot prove by facts that God does so modify
and arrange the laws and operations of nature as to adapt his dealings to
the case of individuals. But, on the other hand, neither can he show that
God does not thus interfere with nature's uniformity. It is enough to show
that he can do it without a miracle, in order to establish the doctrine of
special providence. How often he exercises this power, we cannot know; but
we may be sure as often as is desirable.

A most important application of these principles may be made to the
subject of prayer. For in answering prayer, God is, in fact, merely
executing some of the purposes of his special providence; and it is
gratifying to the pious heart to see how he can give an answer to the
humblest petitioner. No matter though all the laws of nature seem in the
way of an answer,--God can so modify their action as to conform them to
the case of every petitioner. War, famine, and pestilence may all be upon
us, yet humble prayer may turn them all aside, and every other physical
evil; and that without a miracle, if best for us and for the universe.
Tell a man that the only effect of prayer is its reflex influence upon
himself, in leading him to conform more strictly to nature's laws, and you
send a paralysis and a death chill into all his moral sensibilities.
Indeed, he cannot pray; but tell him that God will be influenced, as is
any earthly friend, by his supplications, and his heart beats full and
strong, the current of life goes bounding through his whole system, the
glow of health mantles his cheek, and all his senses are roused into
intense and delightful action.

The sad influence of a perversion and misunderstanding of the doctrine of
nature's constancy upon the youthful mind is well exhibited by a late able
writer. "Early trained to it under the domestic roof," says M'Cosh, "the
person regularly engaged in prayer during childhood and opening manhood.
But as he became introduced to general society, and began to feel his
independence of the guardians of his youth, he was tempted to look upon
the father's commands, in this respect, as proceeding from sourness and
sternness, and the mother's advice as originating in an amiable weakness
and timidity. He is now careless in the performance of acts which in time
past had been punctually attended to. How short, how hurried, how cold are
the prayers which he now utters! Then there come to be mornings on which
he is snatched away to some very important or enticing work without
engaging in his customary devotions. There are evenings, too, following
days of mad excitement or sinful pleasure, in which he feels utterly
indisposed to go into the presence of God, and to be left alone with him.
He feels that there is an utter incongruity between the ball-room, or the
theatre, which he has just left, and the throne of grace, to which he
should now go. What can he say to God, when he would pray to him? Confess
his sins? No; he does not at present feel the act to be sinful. Thank God
for giving him access to such follies? He has his doubts whether God
approves of all that has been done. But he may ask God's blessing? No; he
is scarcely disposed to acknowledge that he needs a blessing, or he doubts
whether the blessing would be given. The practical conclusion to which he
comes is, that it may be as consistent in him to betake himself to sleep
without offering to God what he feels would only be a mockery. What is he
to do the following morning? It is a critical time. Confess his error? No;
cherishing as he does the recollection of the gay scene in which he
mingled, and with the taste and relish of it yet upon his palate, he is
not prepared to acknowledge his folly. Morning and evening now go and
return, and bring new gifts from God, and new manifestations of his
goodness; but no acknowledgment of the divine bounty on the part of him
who is yet ever receiving it. No doubt there are times when he is prompted
to prayer by powerful feelings, called up by outward trials or inward
convictions; but ever when the storms of human life would drive him to the
shore, there is a tide beating him back. His course continues to be a very
vacillating one--now seeming to approach to God, and anon driven farther
from him, till he obtains from books, or from lectures, a smattering of
half-understood science. He now learns that all things are governed by
laws, regular and fixed, over which the breath of prayer can exert as
little influence, as they move on in their allotted course, as the passing
breeze of the earth over the sun in his circuit. False philosophy has now
come to the aid of guilty feelings, and hardens their cold waters into an
icicle lying at his very heart, cooling all his ardor, and damping all his
enthusiasm. He looks back, at times, no doubt, to the simple faith of his
childhood with a sigh; but it is as to a pleasing dream, or illusion, from
which he has been awakened, and into which, the spell being broken, he can
never again fall."--_Method of the Divine Government_, p. 224.

O, what a change would this world exhibit, were the whole Christian church
to exercise full faith in God's ability to answer prayer without a
miracle, only to the extent pointed out by philosophy, to say nothing of
the Bible; for, in fact, a large proportion of that church, confounded by
the specious argument derived from nature's constancy, have virtually
yielded this most important principle to the demands of scepticism. When
natural evils, such as war, famine, drought, and pestilence, came upon our
forefathers, they, taking the Bible for their guide, observed days of
fasting and prayer for their removal. But how seldom do their descendants
follow their example! And yet even physical science testifies that the
fathers acted in conformity to the true principles of philosophy. Would
that the Christian church would consent to be led back to the Bible
doctrine on this subject by philosophy.

That same philosophy, also, should lead the good man, when struggling
through difficulties, to exercise unshaken confidence in the divine
protection, even though all nature's laws seem arrayed against him; for at
the unseen touch of God's efficiency, the iron bars of law shall melt away
like wax, and deliverance be given in the midst of appalling dangers, if
best for the man and for the universe; and if not best, he will not desire
it.

Science, too, bids the wicked man not to fancy that the constancy of
nature will shield him from the infliction of merited and special
punishment, should God choose to make bare the rod of his justice; for the
blow may come as certainly in the course of nature as against it.

Let modern Christian theology, then, receive meekly the rebuke
administered on this important point by physical science. For how lame and
halting a defence of the Scripture doctrine of special providence and
prayer has that theology been able to make! How few of our systems of
theology contain a manful vindication of truths so important! Let not the
Christian divine, therefore, refuse the aid thus offered by physical
science. Let him no longer indulge groundless jealousies against true
philosophy, as if adverse to religion. Especially let him not spurn the
aid of geology, which alone, of all the sciences, discloses stupendous
miracles of creation in early times, and thus removes all presumption
against the miracles of Christianity and special providence at any time.

It is, indeed, an instructive fact, that a science which has been thought
so full of danger to Christianity should thus early be found vindicating
some of the most peculiar and long-contested doctrines of revelation. And
yet it ought not to surprise us, for geology is as really the work of God
as revelation. And though, when ill understood and perverted, she may have
seemed recreant to her celestial origin, yet the more fully her
proportions are developed, and her features brought into daylight, the
more clearly do we recognize her alliance to every thing pure and noble in
the universe. "And surely," says a late writer, "it must be gratifying
thus to see a science, formerly classed, and not perhaps unjustly, amongst
the most pernicious to faith, once more become her handmaid; to see her
now, after so many years of wandering from theory to theory, or rather
from vision to vision, return once more to the home where she was born,
and to the altar at which she made her first simple offerings; no longer,
as she first went forth, a wilful, dreamy, empty-handed child, but with a
matronly dignity, and a priest-like step, and a bosom full of well-earned
gifts, to pile upon its sacred hearth. For it was religion which gave
geology birth, and to the sanctuary she hath once more
returned."--_Wiseman's Lectures on Science and Revealed Religion_, p. 192,
Am. ed.




LECTURE XI.

THE FUTURE CONDITION AND DESTINY OF THE EARTH.


Man has a stronger desire to penetrate the future than the past. And yet
the details of most future events are wisely concealed from him. There are
two, and only two, sources of evidence from which he can obtain some
glimpses of what will be hereafter. The one is revelation, the other
analogy. So far as God has thought proper to reveal the future, our
information is precise and certain. But it does not embrace a multitude of
events about which we have strong curiosity. By analogy is meant a
prediction of the future from the past. On the principle that nature is
constant, we infer what will be from what has been. If, however, new laws
are hereafter to come into operation, or if present agencies will then
operate very differently from what they now do, it is obvious that analogy
can be only an imperfect guide. Still, in respect to many important
events, its conclusions are infallible. Judging, for instance, from the
past, we are absolutely certain that no living thing will escape the great
law of dissolution, which, thus far, apart from the few exceptions made
known to us by revelation, has been universal.

The future changes in the condition of the earth, as they are taught us by
revelation and analogy, or, rather, by geology, will form the subject of
my present lecture. And my first object will be, to ascertain, if
possible, precisely what the Bible teaches us concerning these changes.

We find in the Scriptures several descriptions, more or less definite, of
the changes which this globe will hereafter undergo. Some of them,
however, are couched in the figurative language of prophecy, and others
are incidental allusions; and concerning the precise meaning of such
descriptions, there will, of course, be a diversity of opinion.

There are, however, some passages on this subject as literal and as
precise in their meaning as language can be. Now, it is one of the rules
for interpreting language, that, where a work contains several accounts of
the same event, the description which is most simple and literal ought to
be made the index for obtaining the meaning of those passages which are
figurative, or, on any account, obscure. I shall, therefore, select the
passage of Scripture which all acknowledge to be most plain and definite,
respecting the future destruction of the earth, and the new heavens and
earth that are to succeed, and first inquire into its precise meaning;
after which, we shall be better prepared to ascertain what modification of
that meaning other passages of sacred writ demand.

It needs but a cursory examination of the Bible to convince any one that
the description in the Second Epistle of Peter of the future destruction
and renovation of the earth and heavens, is eminently the passage first to
be examined, because the fullest and clearest on this subject. It is the
apostle's object directly and literally to describe these great changes,
apart from all embellishments of language.

_There shall come_, says he, _in the last days, scoffers, walking after
their own lusts, and saying, Where is the promise of his coming? for since
the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the
beginning of the creation. For this they willingly are ignorant of, that
by the word of God the heavens were of old, and the earth standing out of
the water and in the water; whereby the world that then was, being
overflowed with water, perished. But the heavens and the earth, which are
now, by the same word are kept in store, reserved unto fire, against the
day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men. But, beloved, be not
ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand
years, and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slack concerning
his promise, as some men count slackness, but is long suffering to
us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to
repentance. But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night, in
the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements
shall melt with fervent heat; the earth, also, and the works that are
therein, shall be burned up. Seeing, then, that all these things shall be
dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy conversation
and godliness? Looking for, and hasting unto the coming of the day of God,
wherein the heavens, being on fire, shall be dissolved, and the elements
shall melt with fervent heat. Nevertheless, we, according to his promise,
look for new heavens, and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness._

It would require too much time, and, moreover, is not necessary to the
object I have in view, to enter into minute verbal criticism upon this
passage. I will only remark that the phrase translated _the earth and the
works that are therein_, might with equal propriety be rendered "the earth
and the works that are _thereon_;" and yet the difference of meaning
between the two modes of expression is of no great importance. Again, by
the term _heavens_, in this passage, we are evidently to understand the
atmosphere, or region immediately surrounding the earth; as in the first
chapter of Genesis, where it is said that _God called the firmament
heavens_; the plural form being used in the Hebrew, though not in the
English translation.

What, now, by a fair exegesis, is taught in this passage concerning the
destruction and renovation of the world? The following train of remark may
conduct us to the true answer to this inquiry:--

In the first place, this passage is to be understood literally. It would
seem as if it could hardly be necessary to present any formal proof of
this position to any person of common sense, who had read the passage. But
the fact is, that men of no mean reputation as commentators have
maintained that the whole of it is only a vivid figurative prophecy of the
destruction of Jerusalem. Others suppose the new heavens and new earth
here described to exist before the conflagration of the world. But these
new heavens and earth are represented as the residence of the righteous,
after the burning and melting of the earth, which, according to other
parts of Scripture, is to take place at the end of the world, or at the
general judgment. How strange that, in order to sustain a favorite theory,
able men should thus invert the obvious order of these great events, so
clearly described in the Bible! Still more absurd is it to attempt to
fasten a figurative character upon this most simple statement of
inspiration. It is, indeed, true, that the prophets have sometimes set
forth great political and moral changes, the downfall of empires, or of
distinguished men, by the destruction of the heavens and the earth, and
the growing pale and darkening of the sun and moon. But in all these cases
the figurative character of the description is most obvious; while in the
passage from Peter its literal character is equally obvious. Take, for
example, this statement--_By the word of God the heavens were of old, and
the earth, standing out of the water and in the water; whereby the world
that then was, being overflowed with water, perished. But the heavens and
the earth, which are now, by the same word are kept in store, reserved
unto fire, against the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men._

I believe no one has ever doubted that the destruction of the world by
water, here described, refers to Noah's deluge. Now, how absurd to admit
that this is a literal description of that event, and then to maintain the
remainder of the sentence, which declares the future destruction of that
same world by fire, to be figurative in the highest degree! For if this
destruction mean only the destruction of Jerusalem, or any other great
political or moral revolution, the language is one of the boldest figures
which can be framed. Who, that knows any thing of the laws of language,
does not see the supreme absurdity of thus coupling in the same sentence
the most simple and certain literality with the strongest of all figures?
What mark is given us, by which we may know where the boundary is between
the literal and the metaphorical sense? From what part of the Bible, or
from what uninspired author, can a parallel example be adduced? What but
the strongest necessity, the most decided _exigentia loci_, would justify
such an anomalous interpretation of any author? Nay, I do not believe any
necessity could justify it. It would be more reasonable to infer that the
passage had no meaning, or an absurd one. But surely no such necessity
exists in the present case. Understood literally, the passage teaches only
what is often expressed, though less fully, in many other parts of
Scripture; and even though some of these other passages should be involved
in a degree of obscurity,--and I am not disposed to deny that some
obscurity rests upon one or two of them,--it would be no good reason for
transforming so plain a description into a highly-wrought figurative
representation; especially when by no ingenuity can we thus alter more
than one part of the sentence. I conclude, therefore, that, if any part of
the Bible is literal, we are thus to consider this chapter of Peter.

In the second place, this passage does not teach that the earth will be
annihilated.

The prevailing opinion in this country, probably, has been, and still is,
that the destruction of the world described by Peter will amount to
annihilation--that the matter of the globe will cease to be. But in all
ages there have been many who believe that the destruction will be only
the ruin of the present economy of the world, but not its utter
extinction. And surely Peter's description does not imply annihilation of
the matter of the globe. He makes fire the agent of the destruction, and,
in order to ascertain the extent of the ruin that will follow, we have
only to inquire what effect combustion will have upon matter. The common
opinion is, that intense combustion actually destroys or annihilates
matter, because it is thereby dissipated. But the chemist knows that not
one particle of matter has ever been thus deprived of existence; that fire
only changes the form of matter, but never annihilates it. When solid
matter is changed into gas, as in most cases of combustion, it seems to be
annihilated, because it disappears; but it has only assumed a new form,
and exists as really as before. Since, therefore, biblical and scientific
truth must agree, we may be sure that the apostle never meant to teach
that the matter of the globe would cease to be, through the action of fire
upon it; nor is there any thing in his language that implies such a
result, but most obviously the reverse.

If these things be so, then, in the third place, we may infer that Peter
did not mean to teach that the matter of the globe would be in the least
diminished by the final conflagration. I doubt not the sufficiency of
divine power partially or wholly to annihilate the material universe. But
heat, however intense, has no tendency to do this; it only gives matter a
new form. And heat is the only agency which the apostle represents as
employed. In short, we have no evidence, either from science or
revelation, that the minutest atom of matter has ever been destroyed since
the original creation; nor have we any more evidence that any of it ever
will be reduced to the nothingness from which it sprang. The prevalent
ideas upon this subject all result from erroneous notions of the effect of
intense heat.

In the fourth place, the passage under consideration teaches us that
whatever upon or within the earth is capable of combustion will undergo
that change, and that the entire globe will be melted.

The language of Peter has always seemed to me extremely interesting. He
says that _the heavens_ [or atmosphere] _will pass away with a great
noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat; the earth, also, and
the works that are therein, shall be burned up; looking for, and hasting
unto the coming of the day of God, wherein the heavens, being on fire,
shall be dissolved, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat_.

This language approaches nearer to an anticipation of the scientific
discoveries of modern times than any other part of Scripture. And yet, at
the time it was written, it would not have enabled any one to understand
the chemistry of the great changes which it describes. But, now that their
chemistry is understood, we perceive that the language is adapted to it,
in a manner which no uninspired writer would have done. The atmosphere is
represented as passing away with a great noise--an effect which the
chemist would predict by the union of its oxygen with the hydrogen and
other gases liberated by the intense heat. Yet what uninspired writer of
the first century would have imagined such a result?

Again, when we consider the notions which then prevailed, and which are
still widely diffused, why should the apostle add to the simple statement
that the earth would be burnt up, the declaration that its elements would
be melted? For the impression was, that the combustion would entirely
destroy the matter of the globe. But the chemist finds that the greater
part of the earth has already been oxidized, or burnt, and on this matter
the only effect of the heat, unless intense enough to dissipate it, would
be to melt it. If, therefore, the apostle had said only that the world
would be burnt up, the sceptical chemist would have inferred that he had
made a mistake through ignorance of chemistry. But he cannot now draw such
an inference; for the apostle's language clearly implies that only the
combustible matter of the globe will be burnt, while the elements, or
first principles of things, will be melted; so that the final result will
be an entire liquid, fiery globe. Such a wonderful adaptation of his
description to modern science could not surely have resulted from human
sagacity, but must be the fruit of divine inspiration.

And this adaptation is the more wonderful when we find it running through
the whole Bible wherever the sacred writers come in contact with
scientific subjects. In this respect, the Bible differs from every other
system of religion professedly from heaven.

Whenever other systems have treated of the works of nature, they have
sanctioned some error, and thus put into the hands of modern science the
means of detecting the imposture. The Vedas of India adopt the absurd
notions of an ignorant and polytheistic age respecting astronomy, and the
Koran adopts as infallible truth the absurdities of the Ptolemaic system.
But hitherto the Bible has never been proved to come into collision with
any scientific discovery, although many of its books were written in the
rudest and most ignorant ages. It does not, indeed, anticipate scientific
discovery. But the remarkable adaptation of its language to such
discoveries, when they are made, seems to me a more striking mark of its
divine origin than if it had contained a revelation of the whole system of
modern science.

In the fifth place, the passage under consideration teaches that this
earth will be renovated by the final conflagration, and become the abode
of the righteous. After describing the day of God, _wherein the heavens,
being on fire, shall be dissolved, and the elements shall melt with
fervent heat_, Peter adds, _Nevertheless, we, according to his promise,
look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness._
Now, the apostle does not here, in so many words, declare that the new
heavens and earth will be the present world and its atmosphere, purified
and renovated by fire. But it is certainly a natural inference that such
was his meaning. For if he intended some other remote and quite different
place, why should he call it _earth_, and, especially, why should he
surround it with an atmosphere? The natural and most obvious meaning of
the passage surely is, that the future residence of the righteous will be
this present terraqueous globe, after its entire organic and combustible
matter shall have been destroyed, and its whole mass reduced by heat to a
liquid state, and then a new economy reared up on its surface, not adapted
to sinful, but to sinless beings, and, therefore, quite different from
its present condition--probably more perfect, but still the same earth and
surrounding heavens.

There are, indeed, some difficulties in the way of such a meaning to this
passage, and objections to a material heaven; and these I shall notice in
the proper place. But I have given what seems to me the natural and
obvious meaning of the passage.

Such, as I conceive, are the fair inferences from the apostle's
description of the end of the world. Let us now inquire whether any other
passages of Scripture require us to modify this meaning.

The idea of a future destruction of the world by fire is recognized in
various places, both in the Old and New Testaments. Christ speaks more
than once of heaven and earth as passing away. Paul speaks of Christ as
descending, at the end of the world, in flaming fire. And the Psalmist
describes the destruction of the heavens and the earth as a renovation.
_They shall perish,_ says he, _but thou_ [God] _shalt endure; yea, all of
them shall wax old like a garment, and as a vesture shalt thou change
them, and they shall be changed._ In Revelation, after the apostle had
given a vivid description of the final judgment and its retributions, he
says, _And I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and
the first earth were passed away, and there was no more sea._ He then
proceeds to give a minute and glowing description of what he calls the New
Jerusalem, coming down from God, out of heaven. It is scarcely possible to
understand the whole of this description as literally true. We must rather
regard it as a figurative representation of the heavenly state. And hence
the first verse, which speaks of the new heavens and the new earth, in
almost the same language which Peter uses, may be also figurative,
indicating merely a more exalted condition than the present world. Hence,
I would not use this passage to sustain the interpretation given of the
literal description by Peter. And yet it is by no means improbable that
the figurative language of John may have for its basis the same truths
which are taught by Peter. Nor ought we to infer, because a figure is
built upon that basis in the apocalyptic vision, that the simple
statements of Peter are metaphorical.

In the passage quoted from Peter, it is said, _Nevertheless, we, according
to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth
righteousness._ Most writers have supposed the apostle to refer either to
the promise made to Abraham, that his seed should inherit the land, or to
a prophecy in Isaiah, which says, _Behold, I create new heavens, and a new
earth, and the former shall not be remembered, or come into mind. But be
you glad and rejoice forever in that which I create; for behold, I create
Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy. And I will rejoice in
Jerusalem, and joy in my people; and the voice of weeping shall be no more
heard in her, nor the voice of crying. There shall be no more thence an
infant of days, nor an old man that hath not filled his days; for the
child shall die a hundred years old; but the sinner, being a hundred years
old, shall be accursed. And they shall build houses, and inhabit them; and
they shall plant vineyards, and eat the fruit of them. They shall not
build, and another inhabit; they shall not plant, and another eat; for as
the days of a tree are the days of my people, and mine elect shall long
enjoy the works of their hands. The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,
and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock; and dust shall be the
serpent's meat. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain,
saith the Lord._

Now, it seems highly probable that the new heavens and earth, here
described, represent a state of things on the present earth before the day
of judgment, and not a heavenly and immortal state; for sin and death are
spoken of as existing in it; both which, we are assured, will be excluded
from heaven. Hence able biblical writers refer this prophecy to the
millennial state, or the period when there will be a general prevalence of
Christianity. In this they are probably correct. But some of these
writers, as Low and Whitby, proceed a step farther, and infer that Peter's
description of the new heavens and new earth belong also to the millennial
period; first, because they presume that the apostle referred to this
promise in Isaiah; and secondly, because he uses the same terms, namely,
"new heavens and new earth." But are these grounds sufficient to justify
so important a conclusion? How common it is to find the same words and
phrases in the Bible applied by different writers to different subjects,
especially by the prophets! Even if we can suppose Peter to place the new
heavens and the new earth before the judgment, in despite of his plain
declaration to the contrary, yet there are few who will doubt that the new
heavens and earth described in revelation are subsequent to the judgment
day, so vividly described in the verses immediately preceding.

And as to the promise referred to by Peter, if he really describes the
heavenly state, surely it may be found in a multitude of places; wherever,
indeed, immortal life and blessedness are offered to faith and obedience.
Isaiah, therefore, may be giving a figurative description of a glorious
state of the church in this world, under the terms "new heavens and new
earth," emblematical of those real new heavens and new earth beyond the
grave, described by Peter. And hence, it seems to me, the language of the
prophet should not be allowed to set aside, or modify, the plain meaning
of the apostle.

I shall quote only one other passage of the Bible on this subject. I refer
to that difficult text in Romans, which represents the whole creation as
groaning and travailing together in pain until now; and that it will be
delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the
children of God.

I have stated in a former lecture, that Tholuck, the distinguished German
theologian, considers this a description of the present bound and fettered
condition of all nature, and that the deliverance refers to the future
renovation of the earth. Such an exposition chimes in perfectly with the
views on this subject which have long and extensively prevailed in
Germany. And it certainly does give a consistent meaning to a passage
which has been to commentators a perfect labyrinth of difficulties. If
this be not its meaning, then I may safely say that its meaning has not
yet been found out.

In view, then, of all the important passages of Scripture concerning the
future destruction and renovation of the earth, I think we may fairly
conclude that none of them require us to modify the natural and obvious
meaning of Peter which has been given. In general, they all coincide with
the views presented by that apostle; or if, in any case, there is a slight
apparent difference, the figurative character of all other statements
besides his require us to receive his views as the true standard, and to
modify the meaning of the others. We may, therefore, conclude that the
Bible does plainly and distinctly teach us that this earth will hereafter
be burned up; in other words, that all upon or within it, capable of
combustion, will be consumed, and the entire mass, the elements, without
the loss of one particle of the matter now existing, will be melted; and
then, that the world, thus purified from the contamination of sin, and
surrounded by a new atmosphere, or heavens, and adapted in all respects
to the nature and wants of spiritual and sinless beings, will become the
residence of the righteous. Of the precise nature of that new
dispensation, and of the mode of existence there, the Scriptures are
indeed silent. But that, like the present world, it will be
material,--that there will be a solid globe, and a transparent expanse
around it,--seems most clearly indicated in the sacred record.

The wide-spread opinion that heaven will be a sort of airy Elysium, where
the present laws of nature will be unknown, and where matter, if it exist,
can exist only in its most attenuated form, is a notion to which the Bible
is a stranger.

The resurrection of the body, as well as the language of Peter, most
clearly show us that the future world will be a solid, material world,
purified indeed, and beautified, but retaining its materialism.

Let us now see whether, in coming to these conclusions from Scripture
language, we are influenced by scientific considerations, or whether many
discerning minds have not, in all ages, attached a similar meaning to the
inspired record.

Among all nations, the history of whose opinions have come down to us, and
especially among the Greeks, the belief has prevailed that a catastrophe
by fire awaited the earth, corresponding to, or rather the counterpart of,
a previous destruction by water. These catastrophes they denominated the
_cataclysm_, or destruction by water, and the _ecpyrosis_, or destruction
by fire. The ruin was supposed to be followed, in each case, by the
regeneration of the earth in an improved form, which gradually
deteriorated; the first age after the catastrophe, constituting the golden
age; the next, the silver age; and so on to the iron age, which preceded
another cataclysm, or ecpyrosis. The intervals between these convulsions
were regarded as of various lengths, but all of them of great duration.

These opinions the Greeks derived from the Egyptians.

The belief in the future conflagration of the world also prevailed among
the ancient Jews. Philo says that "the earth, after this purification,
shall appear new again, even as it was after its first creation."--_De
Vita Mosis_, tom. ii.--Among the Jews, these ideas may have been, in part,
derived from the Old Testament; though its language, as we have seen, is
far less explicit on this subject than the New Testament. That
distinguished Christian writers, in all ages since the advent of Christ,
have understood the language of Peter as we have explained it, would be
easy to show. I have room, however, to quote only the opinions of a few
distinguished modern writers.

Dr. Knapp, one of the most scientific and judicious of theologians, thus
remarks upon the passage of Peter already examined: "It cannot be thought
that what is here said respecting the burning of the world is to be
understood figuratively, as Wettstein supposes; because the fire is here
too directly opposed to the literal water of the flood to be so
understood. It is the object of Peter to refute the boast of scoffers,
that all things had remained unchanged from the beginning, and that,
therefore, no day of judgment and no end of the world could be expected.
And so he says that originally, at the time of the creation, the whole
earth was covered and overflowed with water, (Gen. i.,) and that from
hence the dry land appeared; and the same was true at the time of Noah's
flood. But there is yet to come a great fire revolution. The heavens and
the earth (the earth with its atmosphere) are reserved, or kept in store,
for the fire, until the day of judgment, (v. 10.) At that time the heavens
will pass away with a great noise, and the elements will be dissolved by
fervent heat, and every thing upon the earth will be burnt up. The same
thing is taught in verse 12. But in verse 13 Peter gives the design of
this revolution. It will not be annihilation, but we expect a new heavens
and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness, _i. e._, an entirely new,
altered, and beautiful abode for man, to be built from the ruins of his
former dwelling-place, as the future habitation of the pious, (Rev. xxi.
1.) This will be very much in the same way as a more perfect and an
immortal body will be reared from the body which we now
possess."--_Theology_, vol. ii. p. 649.

From Dr. Chalmers my extracts will be longer than are necessary to show
his opinion upon this subject, because he felicitously refutes certain
erroneous ideas, widely prevalent, respecting matter, and spirit. "We know
historically," says he, "that earth, that a solid, material earth, may
form the dwelling of sinless creatures, in full converse and friendship
with the Being who made them." "Man, at the first, had for his place this
world, and, at the same time, for his privilege an unclouded fellowship
with God, and for his prospect an immortality, which death was neither to
intercept nor put an end to. He was terrestrial in respect to condition,
and yet celestial, both in respect of character and enjoyments.

"The common imagination that we have of paradise on the other side of
death, is that of a lofty aerial region, where the inmates float in ether,
or are mysteriously suspended upon nothing; where all the warm and
sensible accompaniments, which give such an expression of strength, and
life, and coloring to our present habitation, are attenuated into a sort
of spiritual element, that is meagre and imperceptible, and utterly
uninviting to the eye of mortals here below; where every vestige of
materialism is done away, and nothing left but certain unearthly scenes,
that have no power of allurement, and certain unearthly ecstasies with
which it is felt impossible to sympathize. The holders of this imagination
forget all the while that there is no necessary connection between
materialism and sin; that the world which we now inhabit had all the
solidity and amplitude of its present materialism before sin entered into
it; that God, so far, on that account, from looking slightly upon it,
after it had received the last touch of his creating hand, reviewed the
earth, and the waters, and the firmament, and all the green herbage, with
the living creatures, and the man whom he had raised in dominion over
them, and _he saw every thing that he had made, and behold, it was all
very good_. They forget that, on the birth of materialism, when it stood
out in the freshness of those glories which the great Architect of nature
had impressed upon it, that _the morning stars sang together, and all the
sons of God shouted for joy_. They forget the appeals that are every where
made in the Bible to his material workmanship, and how, from the face of
these visible heavens, and the garniture of this earth which we tread
upon, the greatness and goodness of God are reflected on the view of his
worshippers. No, my brethren, the object of the administration we sit
under is to extirpate sin, but it is not to sweep away materialism. By the
convulsions of the last day it may be shaken and broken down from its
present arrangement, and thrown into such fitful agitations as that the
whole of its existing framework shall fall to pieces; and with a heat so
fervent as to melt the most solid elements, may it be utterly dissolved.
And thus may the earth again become without form and void, but without one
particle of its substance going into annihilation. Out of the ruins of
this second chaos may another heaven and another earth be made to arise,
and a new materialism, with other aspects of magnificence and beauty,
emerge from the wreck of this mighty transformation, and the world be
peopled, as before, with the varieties of material loveliness, and space
be again lighted up into a firmament of material splendor.

"It is, indeed, a homage to that materialism, which many are for expunging
from the future state of the universe altogether, that, ere the immaterial
soul of man has reached the ultimate glory and blessedness designed for
it, it must return and knock at the very grave where lie the mouldered
remains of the body which it wore, and there inquisition must be made for
the flesh, and the sinews, and the bones which the power of corruption
has, perhaps centuries before, assimilated to the earth around them, and
then the minute atoms must be reassembled into a structure that bears upon
it the form, and lineaments, and general aspect of a man, and the soul
passes into this material framework, which is hereafter to be its
lodging-place forever; and that not as its prison, but as its pleasant and
befitting habitation; not to be trammelled, as some would have it, in a
hold of materialism, but to be therein equipped for the services of
eternity; to walk embodied among the bowers of our second paradise; to
stand embodied in the presence of our God."

"The glorification of the visible creation," says Tholuck, the
distinguished German divine, "is more definitely declared in Rev. xxi. 1,
although it must be borne in mind that a prophetic vision is there
described. Still more definitely do we find the belief of a transformation
of the material world declared in 2 Peter, iii. 7-12. The idea that the
perfected kingdom of Christ is to be transferred to heaven, is properly a
modern notion. According to Paul and the Revelation of John, the kingdom
of God is placed upon the earth, in so far as this itself has part in the
universal transformation. This exposition has been adopted and defended
by most of the oldest commentators; _e. g._, Chrysostom, Theodoret,
Hieronymus, Augustine, Luther, Koppe, and others. Luther says, in his
lively way, 'God will make, not the earth only, but the heavens also, much
more beautiful than they are at present. At present, we see the world in
its working clothes; but hereafter it will be arrayed in its Easter and
Whitsuntide robes.'"

"I cannot but feel astonishment," says Dr. John Pye Smith, "that any
serious and intelligent man should have his mind fettered with the common,
I might call it the vulgar, notion of a proper destruction of the earth;
and some seem to extend the notion to the whole solar system, and even the
entire material universe; applying the idea of an extinction of being, a
reducing to nothingness. This notion has, indeed, been often used to aid
impassioned description in sermons and poetry; and thus it has gained so
strong a hold upon the feelings of many pious persons, that they have made
it an article of their faith. But I confess myself unable to find any
evidence for it in nature, reason, or Scripture. We can discover nothing
like destruction in the matter of the universe as subjected to our senses.
Masses are disintegrated, forms are changed, compounds are decomposed; but
not an atom is annihilated. Neither have we the shadow of reason to assert
that mind, the seat of intelligence, ever was, or ever will be, in a
single instance, destroyed. The declaration in Scripture that _the heavens
and the earth shall flee away, and no more place be found for them_, is
undoubtedly figurative, and denotes the most momentous changes in the
scenes of the divine moral government. If it be the purpose of God that
the earth shall be subjected to a total conflagration, we perfectly well
know that the instruments of such an event lie close at hand, and wait
only the divine volition to burst out in a moment. But that would not be a
destruction; it would be a mere change of form, and, no doubt, would be
subservient to the most glorious results. _We, according to his promise,
look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth
righteousness._"--_Lectures on Geology and Revelation_, p. 161, (4th
London edition.)

Says Dr. Griffin, one of the ablest of the American divines, "A question
here arises, whether the new heavens and new earth will be created out of
the ruins of the old; that is, whether the old will be renovated and
restored in a more glorious form, or whether the old will be annihilated,
and the new made out of nothing. The idea of the annihilation of so many
immense and glorious bodies, organized with inimitable skill, and
declarative of infinite wisdom, is gloomy and forbidding. Indeed, it is
scarcely credible that God should annihilate any of his works, much less
so many and so glorious works. It ought not to be believed without the
most decisive proof. On the other hand, it is a most animating thought
that this visible creation, which sin has marred, which the polluted
breath of men and devils has defiled, and which by sin will be reduced to
utter ruin, will be restored by our Jesus, will arise from its ruins in
tenfold splendor, and shine with more illustrious glory than before it was
defaced by sin.

"After a laborious and anxious search on this interesting subject, I must
pronounce the latter to be my decided opinion. And the same, I find, has
been the more common opinion of the Christian fathers, of the divines of
the reformation, and of the critics and annotators who have since
flourished. I could produce on this side a catalogue of names which would
convince you that this has certainly been the common opinion of the
Christian church in every age, as it was also of the Jewish.

"The words which are employed to express the destruction of the world do
not necessarily imply annihilation. Is it said that the world shall
perish? The same word is used to express the ancient destruction of the
world by the flood, when certainly it was not annihilated. Is it said that
the world shall have an end, and be no more? This may be understood only
of the present form and organization of the visible system? Is it said
that the heavens and the earth shall be dissolved by fire? But the natural
power of fire is not to annihilate, but only to dissolve the composition
and change the form of substances."--_Sermons_, vol. ii. p. 450.

We have now examined the most important testimony respecting the future
destruction and renovation of the earth; for inspiration only can
certainly determine its future condition. But science may throw some light
upon the changes through which it is to pass. And I now proceed to inquire
whether geology affords us any glimpses of its future condition.

In the first place, geology shows us that the earth contains within itself
all the agencies necessary for its future destruction in the manner
pointed out in the Bible.

Some author has remarked that, from the earliest times, there has been a
loud cry of fire. We have seen that it began with the ancient Egyptians,
and was continued by the Greeks. But in recent times it has waxed louder
and far more distinct. The ancient notions about the existence of fire
within the earth were almost entirely conjectural, but within the present
century the matter has been put to the test of experiment. Wherever, in
Europe and America, the temperature of the air, the waters, and the rocks
in deep excavations has been ascertained, it has been found higher than
the mean temperature of the climate at the surface; and the experiment has
been made in hundreds of places. It is found, too, that the heat increases
rapidly as we descend below that point in the earth's crust to which the
sun's heat extends. The mean rate of increase has been stated by the
British Association to be one degree of Fahrenheit for every forty-five
feet. At this rate, all known rocks would be melted at the depth of about
sixty miles. Shall we hence conclude that all the matter of the globe
below this thickness (or, rather, for the sake of round numbers, below one
hundred miles) is actually in a melted state? Most geologists have not
seen how such a conclusion is to be avoided. And yet this would leave only
about one eight hundredth part of the earth's diameter, and about one
fourteenth of its contents, or bulk, in a solid state. How easy, then,
should God give permission, for this vast internal fiery ocean to break
through its envelope, and so to bury the solid crust that it should all be
burnt up and melted! It is conceivable that such a result might take place
even by natural operations. And certainly it would be easy for a special
divine agency to accomplish it.

It may be thought, however, that the igneous fluidity of the internal part
of the globe is too mighty and improbable a conclusion to be based upon
the increase of temperature, observed only to the depth of two or three
thousand feet. But this is not the only evidence of such a condition of
the earth's interior. Three hundred active volcanoes, and still more
numerous extinct ones, have opened their mouths and poured forth their
molten contents from a great depth, to bear witness to the existence of
vast masses of melted rock beneath the earth's crust. The globe, too, is
flattened at the poles, just to the amount it would be by rotation on its
axis, had it been a liquid mass; and, therefore, there is every
probability that it was once liquid; and if so once, its interior is
probably still so, because the period for cooling it, when once surrounded
by a solid crust, must be incalculably long. That this solid crust has
once been liquid from heat, is most obvious to all who carefully examine
it. For the unstratified rocks have certainly once been melted, and most
of the stratified series were derived from the unstratified. Again, the
organic remains dug out from the deep-seated strata prove that, when they
were alive, the surface, even in high latitudes, must have been subject to
a tropical, or even an ultra-tropical heat; thus showing us that the
temperature of the globe has gradually diminished, as we should expect
from the theory of original igneous fluidity. And, finally, no other
hypothesis but the gradual cooling of the earth's crust, and the powerful
volcanic agency that must from time to time have torn and ridged up that
crust, will account for the present fractured and overturned condition of
the strata, and the elevation of our continent from the ocean's bed. But
this supposition does most satisfactorily explain all these phenomena, and
also those of earthquakes and volcanoes.

I must acknowledge, however, that all these arguments fail of convincing a
few geologists of the doctrine of internal igneous fluidity, to the extent
above described. But they all admit that the facts do prove the existence
of vast oceans of melted matter beneath the earth's crust. Nor do even
these geologists doubt but the globe contains within itself the agencies
requisite for a universal conflagration. Mr. Lyell says that "there must
exist below enormous masses of matter, intensely heated, and in many
instances in a constant state of fusion." He says, also, "When we consider
the combustible nature of the elements of the earth, so far as they are
known to us, the facility with which their compounds may be decomposed and
made to enter into new combinations, the quantity of heat which they
evolve during those processes; when we recollect the expansive power of
steam, and that water itself is composed of two gases, which, by their
union, produce intense heat; when we call to mind the number of explosive
and detonating compounds which have been already discovered,--we may be
allowed to share the astonishment of Pliny, that a single day should pass
without a general conflagration. '_Excedit profecto omnia miracula, ullum
diem fuisse quo non cuncta conflagrarent._'"--Lyell's _Principles of
Geology_, b. ii. chap. xx. vol. ii.

"As a consequence of the refrigeration of the centre and crust of the
globe," says D'Orbigny, "the withdrawment of matter has produced
elevations and depressions on the consolidated crust; to which movements,
in connection with those of the waters, we must impute the complete
destruction of the existing fauna. These dislocations have brought about
at each epoch changes of level in the consolidated beds and in the seas.
And after a period of agitation, more or less prolonged, after each of
these geological revolutions, different beings have been created to cover
anew and enliven the surface of the earth."--_Cours Elementaire
Paleontologie_, p. 148.

All geologists, then, agree that the elements of the earth's final
conflagration are contained within its bosom or upon its surface. At
present, these elements are so bound down by counteracting agencies, that
all is quiet and security. But let the fiat of the Almighty go forth for
their liberation, and the scenes of the last day, as described in the
Bible, will commence. The ploughshare of ruin will be driven onward, until
this fair world is all ingulfed, and no trace of organic life remains.
Yet to him who realizes that the destruction is only a necessary
preparation for a brighter world, which will emerge from the ruins of the
present; that, when the matter of the globe has been purified, its surface
shall be covered with new and lovelier forms of beauty, surrounded by a
still more bland and balmy atmosphere, and inhabited by sinless and
immortal beings,--to him who realizes all this, the desolation will put on
the aspect of a glorious transformation.

In the second place, still deeper will be this impression, when we
recollect that similar transmutations have already been experienced by the
earth with an improvement of its condition. There is no evidence that the
entire surface of the earth has ever undergone a complete fusion since
organic life first appeared upon it. But we have reason to think that,
frequently, at least, when one race of animals and plants has disappeared
from the earth, it has been the result of violent catastrophes, proceeding
from the elevation or subsidence of continents or chains of mountains.
Says Agassiz, "A very remarkable, and perhaps the most surprising fact is,
that the appearance of the chains of mountains, and the inequalities of
the surface resulting from it, seem to have coincided generally with the
epochs of the renewal of organized beings."--_Ed. Journal of Science_,
Oct. 1842, p. 394.--These vertical movements of such large portions of the
earth's crust could have resulted only from the direct or indirect agency
of volcanic power, though the destruction of organic life, which must have
been the consequence, may have resulted as often from aqueous as igneous
inundations. But usually both agencies were probably concerned, and the
predominance of one or the other of these agencies is of little
consequence to the argument; for if such wide-spread ruin has already
repeatedly passed over the earth, a still wider desolation may be
presumed possible, if only a little wider play shall be given to the
agents of destruction. Already have the changes of this sort which the
earth, or portions of it, have undergone, resulted in an improved
condition of its surface. In other words, at each successive epoch,
animals and plants of a higher and more perfect organization have
appeared, because the temperature, the air, and the earth's general
condition have been better adapted to their happy existence. The amount of
limestone seems to have been constantly increasing, and, as a consequence,
the fertility of the soil; probably, also, the amount of carbonic acid has
diminished in the atmosphere, as animals with lungs have been multiplied.
In short, there is a prodigious increase, among the present inhabitants of
the globe, of animals and plants possessing complicated and delicate
organization and loftier intellectual powers, over all former conditions
of the globe. But we have reason to believe, from the Christian
Scriptures, that the next economy of life which shall be placed upon the
globe will far transcend all those that have gone before. Every vestige of
sin, suffering, decay, and death will disappear. Says the Bible, _There
shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be
any more pain, for the former things are passed away. And there shall in
no wise enter it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh
abomination, or maketh a lie._ In short, the change is no other than the
conversion of this world into heaven. Reasonably, therefore, might we
anticipate a most thorough destruction of the present world, to prepare
the way for the introduction of such a glorious state. The Scriptures
describe that state by the most splendid imagery that can be derived from
existing nature. It is represented, figuratively, no doubt, as a splendid
city, prepared of God, and let down to the earth. Its twelve foundations
are all precious stones, its gates pearls, its wall jasper, and its
streets pure gold, as it were, transparent glass. The Lord God Almighty
and the Lamb are the temple of that city. Instead of the sun and the moon,
the glory of God enlightens it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. From
out of their throne proceeds the water of life, clear as crystal, and
along its banks grows the tree of life, with its twelve manner of fruits,
yielding its fruit every month.

Here, then, we have the most splendid and enchanting objects in nature
brought before us as representatives of the new heavens and the new earth.
Yet we cannot learn from the Bible, or science, what material dress nature
will then put on. We are taught only that it will far exceed, in splendor
and perfection, the drapery which she now wears. We may be assured that it
will be eminently adapted to a spirit that is henceforth to be perfectly
holy, happy, incorruptible, and immortal. Both revelation and geology
agree in assuring us that the new earth, which will emerge from the ruins
of the present, will be improved in its condition; but the particulars of
that condition are not described--probably because we could not, in our
present state, understand them.

Such are the views concerning the earth's future destruction and
renovation, which appear to me to be taught by a fair interpretation of
Scripture, and which harmonize with the teachings of geology. But we are
met here by two formidable difficulties. In the first place, if the
present earth is to be burnt up and melted at the last day, it must
require thousands of years before another solid crust shall be formed upon
its surface, capable of sustaining organic natures which are material. But
the Bible represents the righteous, at the day of judgment, as reunited to
their bodies, which they left in the grave, and entering at once into
their residence upon the new earth. Where, then, can we find the
thousands of years which, by this theory, are essential to prepare this
residence for their reception? Into what intermediate place, what new
Hades, shall they pass, until verdure shall clothe the new earth, and more
than the primeval beauty of Eden take the place of the volcanic desolation
which must reign over a world just beginning to cool from incandescent
heat?

I freely acknowledge that this is a serious objection to my theory; and
perhaps it is insuperable, unless we resort to miraculous interference. It
were easy to say, that God can, in a moment, convert a globe of fire into
a paradise of beauty, and make its landscapes smile with charms
transcending the bowers of paradise lost. Indeed, the Scriptures represent
the New Jerusalem as prepared by God's own hands, and let down at once
upon the earth to form the metropolitan abode of the righteous.

But, after all, I am unwilling thus to dispose of the difficulty. For it
is a clumsy way to meet objections, when we undertake to philosophize upon
events, either past, present, or future, to foist in a miracle, in order
to eke out our hypothesis. We thus make an image of as incoherent parts as
that in Nebuchadnezzar's dream, and as easily broken in pieces.

There is a second mode by which the difficulty under consideration can be
completely obviated, could we only admit the theory on which it rests.
Some theological writers have maintained that the day of judgment will
occupy a long period,--thousands and tens of thousands of years
perhaps,--in order that every individual may experience a literal trial
before the universe for all his conduct on earth, so that the conscience
of every one in that vast assembly shall approve the final sentence. They
appeal to various texts of Scripture, where it is strongly stated that
rigid inquisition will be made on that solemn day into the conduct and
motives of every individual. And it may be, indeed, that such descriptions
are to have a literal fulfilment; and if so, we should have a period long
enough for the new earth to be recovered by natural means from its
volcanic desolation, and to be covered over with new forms of beauty. But
I confess the theory of such a long period of judgment does not seem to me
to be sustained by the most approved rules of exegesis, and therefore I am
unwilling to rest upon it to sustain my own hypothesis.

But is it not possible that our difficulty of conceiving how the spiritual
body can enter at once upon its residence in the new heavens and earth,
while yet the globe is only a shoreless ocean of fire, results from a
mistaken conception of the nature of the spiritual body? Do we not judge
of it by our own present bodies, and imagine that it must necessarily
possess such an organization as would be destroyed by the extremes of heat
and cold? And are we authorized to draw such an inference? The Scriptures
have, indeed, left us very much in the dark as to the specific nature of
the future glorified body, which Paul calls a spiritual body. He does not
mean that it is composed of spirit, for then it would not differ from the
soul itself, by which it is to be animated. He certainly means that it is
composed of matter; unless, indeed, there be in the universe a third
substance, distinct both from matter and spirit. But of the existence of
such a substance we have no positive evidence; and, therefore, must
conclude the spiritual body to be matter; called spiritual, probably,
because eminently adapted to form the immortal residence of pure spirit.

Yet we learn from the apostle's description that it is not composed of
flesh and blood, which, he says, cannot inherit the kingdom of God;
neither is it capable of decay, like our present bodies. Indeed, the
illustration which he derives from the decay and germination of a kernel
of wheat shows us that the future body will be as much unlike the present
as a stalk of wheat is different from the seed whence it sprang; and, in
appearance, scarcely any two things are more unlike. Hence we may suppose
the resurrection body of the righteous to be as different from that which
the soul now animates as matter can be, in its most diverse forms.

Now, the question arises, Do we know of any form of matter in the present
world which remains the same at all temperatures, and in all
circumstances, which no chemical or mechanical agencies can alter?--a
substance which remains unchanged in the very heart of the ice around the
poles, and in the focus of a volcano; which remains untouched by the most
powerful reagents which the chemist can apply, and by the mightiest forces
which the mechanician can bring to bear upon it? It seems to me that
modern science does render the existence of such a substance probable,
though not cognizable by the senses. It is the luminiferous ether, that
attenuated medium by which light, and heat, and electricity are
transmitted from one part of the universe to another, by undulations of
inconceivable velocity. This strange fluid, whose existence and action
seems all but demonstrated by the phenomena of light, heat, and
electricity, and perhaps, too, by the resistance experienced by Encke's,
Biela's, and Halley's comets, must possess the extraordinary
characteristic above pointed out. It must exist and act wherever we find
light, heat, or electricity; and where do we not find them? They penetrate
through what has been called empty space; and, therefore, this ether
exists there, propagating its undulations at the astonishing rate of two
hundred thousand miles per second. They emanate in constant succession
from every intensely heated focus, such as the sun, the volcano, and the
chemical furnace; and, therefore, this strange medium is neither
dissipated nor affected by the strongest known heat. Both light and heat
are transmitted through ice; and, therefore, this ether cannot be
congealed. The same is true of glass, and every transparent substance,
however dense; and even the most solid metals convey heat and electricity
with remarkable facility; and, therefore, this ether exists and acts with
equal facility in the most solid masses as in a vacuum. In short, it seems
to be independent of chemical or mechanical changes, and to act
unobstructed in all possible modifications of matter. And, though too
evanescent to be cognizable by the senses, or the most delicate chemical
and mechanical tests, it possesses, nevertheless, a most astonishing
activity.

Now, I am not going to assert that the spiritual body will be composed of
this luminiferous ether. But, since we know not the composition of that
body, it is lawful to suppose that such may be its constitution. This is
surely possible, and that is all which is essential to my present
argument.

Admitting its truth, the following interesting conclusions follow:--

In the first place, the spiritual body would be unaffected by all possible
changes of temperature. It might exist as well in the midst of fire, or of
ice, as in any intermediate temperature. Hence it might pass from one
extreme of temperature to another, and be at home in them all; and this is
what we might hope for in a future world. Some, indeed, have imagined that
the sun will be the future heaven of the righteous; and on this
supposition there is no absurdity in the theory. Nor would there be in the
hypothesis which should locate heaven in solid ice, or in the centre of
the earth.

In the second place, on this supposition, the spiritual body would be
unharmed by those chemical and mechanical agencies which matter in no
other form can resist.

The question has often arisen, how the glorified body, if material, would
be able to escape all sources of injury, so as to be immortal as the soul.
In this hypothesis, we see how it is possible; for though the whole globe
should change its chemical constitution, though worlds should dash upon
worlds, the spiritual body, though present at the very point where the
terrible collision took place, would feel no injury; and safe in its
immortal habitation, the soul might smile amid "the wreck of matter and
the crush of worlds."

In the third place, on this supposition, the soul might communicate its
thoughts and receive a knowledge of events and of other minds, through
distances inconceivably great, with the speed of lightning. If we suppose
the soul, in such a tenement, could transmit its thoughts and desires, and
receive impressions, through the luminiferous ether, with only the same
velocity as light, it might communicate with other beings upon the sun, at
the distance of one hundred million miles, in eight minutes; and such a
power we may reasonably expect the soul will hereafter possess, whether
derived from this or some other agency. We cannot believe that, in another
world, the soul's communication with the rest of the universe will be as
limited as in the present state. On this supposition, she need not wander
through the universe to learn the events transpiring in other spheres, for
the intelligence would be borne on the morning's ray or the lightning's
wing.

Finally, on this supposition, the germ of the future spiritual body may,
even in this world, be attached to the soul; and it may be this which she
will come seeking after on the resurrection morning.

I know not but this wonderful medium, in some unknown form, may attach
itself to the sleeping dust; and though that dust be scattered upon the
winds, or diffused in the waters of the ocean, and transformed into other
animal bodies, still that germ may not be lost. The chemist has often been
perplexed, when he thinks how the bodies of men are decomposed after
death, and how every particle must, in some cases, pass into other bodies;
he has been perplexed, I say, to see how the resurrection body should be
identified, and especially how those particles could become a part of
different bodies. Perhaps the hypothesis under consideration may relieve
the difficulty. Perhaps, too, it may teach us how the soul exists and
acts, when separated from the body. It may act through this universal
medium, though in a manner less perfect than after it has united itself to
the spiritual body raised from the grave.[20]

But I fear I am venturing too far into the region of conjecture. My only
object is, to show that we do know of a substance which might form a
spiritual body which should be in its element upon the new earth, even
though it were in the condition of a fiery ocean. It could not, indeed, be
an organic body of such a kind as heat would destroy; though I see no
reason why it may not possess an organism far more delicate and wonderful
than that of our present bodies, and yet be unaffected by heat or cold, or
mechanical or chemical agencies. I do not feel, therefore, that the
objection which I am considering is insuperable. It results, I apprehend,
from the false assumption that the spiritual body will be subject to
those influences by which our present comparatively gross bodies are so
powerfully affected.

Shall I be pardoned if I say that, in the experiments of an incipient and
maltreated science, we have, perhaps, a glimpse of the manner in which the
soul will act in the future spiritual body? for if those experiments be
not all delusion,--and how can we reasonably infer that experiments so
multiplied, so various, and in many cases, when not in the hands of
itinerant jugglers, so fairly performed,--I say, how can we regard all
these as mere trickery? and if not, they are best explained by supposing
the soul to act independently of the bodily organs, and through the same
medium which we have supposed to constitute the future spiritual body. In
this view, mesmerism assumes a most interesting aspect, forming, as it
were, a link between the present and the future world. The theory which I
have advanced does not, indeed, fall to the ground, though mesmerism
should be found a delusion; yet it is but justice to say, that it first
came under my eye in that most classical, philosophical, and attractive
work, Townsend's "Facts in Mesmerism." A similar view, however, was
presented several years earlier, in a work by Isaac Taylor, no less
ingenious and profound, the "Physical Theory of Another Life," a work,
however, which makes not the slightest allusion to mesmerism. The author
supposes such a state of things as I have imagined in another life to be
in existence even now. "The sensation of light," says he, "is now believed
to result from the vibrations, not the emanations, of an elastic fluid, or
ether; but this same element may be capable of another species of
vibrations; or the electric or the magnetic fluids may be susceptible of
some such vibrations; or an element as universally diffused as light
through the universe may be the medium of sonorous undulations, equally
rapid and distinct, and serving to connect the most remote regions of the
universe by the conveyance of sounds, just as the most remote are actually
connected by the passage of light. Yet the sonorous vibrations of this
supposed element may be far too delicate to awaken the ear of man, or, in
fact, of a kind not perceptible by the human auditory nerve." "We refuse
to allow that a conjecture of this sort is extravagant, or destitute of
philosophical probability; on the contrary, consider it as borne out, in a
positive sense, by the discoveries of modern science. Might we then rest
for a moment upon an animating conception (aided by the actual analogy of
light) such as this, viz., that the field of the visible universe is the
theatre of a vast social economy, holding rational intercourse at great
distances? Let us claim leave to indulge the belief, when we contemplate
the starry heavens, that speech, inquiry and response, commands and
petitions, debate and instruction, are passing to and fro; or shall the
imagination catch the pealing anthems of praise, at stated seasons,
arising from worshippers in all quarters, and flowing on with thundering
power, like the noise of many waters, until it meet and shake the courts
of the central heavens?"--_Physical Theory of Another Life_, p. 202, 3d
Am. ed.

The second objection to the view which I have presented of the future
destruction and renovation of the earth, as an abode of the righteous, may
be thus stated: Heaven is an unchanging state; but a world which has been
burned up and melted, even if we might suppose spiritual beings to dwell
upon it, must undergo still further change. The radiation of its heat
would form a crust over its surface; the waters, dissipated into vapor,
would be recondensed; volcanic agency would ridge up the crust into
mountains and valleys; and, in short, geological agencies would at length
form such a surface, so far as rocks and soil are concerned, as we now
tread upon. And even though organic beings should not be again placed upon
it, those changes would proceed, till, perhaps, another and another great
catastrophe by fire might pass over it; nor can we say where these
mutations would end. Can we believe such a world to be heaven?

Here, again, as in the last objection, it appears to me, the main
difficulty lies in our judging of the future spiritual body by that
organism which we now inhabit. Heaven is, indeed, an unchanging state of
happiness and holiness. But does it, therefore, follow that there can be
no change in its material form and aspect? I have already shown that the
spiritual body may be of such a composition that no change of temperature,
of place or constitution, in surrounding bodies, can at all affect it. If
the soul could be happy in one set of physical circumstances while in such
a tenement, it might be happy in any other circumstances with which we are
acquainted. But it does not follow that the happiness of the soul might
not be increased by the changes of the material world around it. What is
it on earth that affords the greatest amount of happiness derived from the
external world? It is the immense variety of creation, produced chiefly by
chemical and mechanical agencies. These changes afford us the most
striking exhibitions of the wisdom, power, and benevolence of the Deity,
within our knowledge; and why may not analogous, or still more wonderful
changes, and greater variety, give still higher conceptions of the divine
character to the inhabitants of heaven, and excite a purer and a stronger
love? And to study that character will form, I doubt not, the grand
employment of heaven. Who can tell what depths of knowledge may there be
laid open into the internal constitution of matter, and its combinations,
and especially its union with spirit! And what surer means of bringing out
these developments than change, constant and everlasting change? For who
can set limits to those mutations which an infinite God can produce upon
the matter of this vast universe? It is easy to see that they may be
literally infinite.

Once more. We have seen that the geological changes which our world has
hitherto undergone have been an improvement of its condition, and that
each successive economy has been a brighter exhibition of divine wisdom
and benevolence: Shall this progress be arrested when the present economy
closes? We know that the righteous will forever advance in holiness and
happiness. Why may not a part of that increase depend upon their
introduction into higher and higher economies through eternal ages? May
not this be one of the modes in which new developments of the character of
God will open upon them in the world of bliss?

The Scriptures represent the material aspect of the new heavens and the
new earth, when first the righteous enter upon them, to be one of
surpassing glory. But why may not other developments await them in the
round of eternal ages, as their expanding faculties are able to understand
and appreciate them?

The greater the variety of new scenes in the material world which shall be
presented to the mind, such as an infinite Deity shall devise, the more
intense the happiness of their contemplations; and who can set limits to
the permutations which such a being can produce, even upon matter? I can
form no conjecture as to the nature of those new developments; nor do I
believe they could be understood in our present state. I feel as if those
formed too low an estimate of the new heavens and the new earth, who
imagine a repetition there of the most curious organic structures, the
most splendid flowers and fruits, and the most enchanting landscapes of
the present world: I fancy that scenes far more enchanting, and objects
far more glorious, will meet the soul at its first entrance upon the new
earth, even though to mortal vision it should present only an ocean of
fire. I imagine a thousand new inlets into the soul--nay, I think of it as
all eye, all ear, all sensation; now plunging deeper into the
infinitesimal parts of matter than the microscope can carry us, and now
soaring away, perhaps on the waves of the mysterious ether, far beyond the
ken of the telescope. And if such is the first entrance into heaven, who
can conjecture what new fields and new glories shall open before the mind,
and fill it with ecstasy, as it flies onward without end! But I dare not
indulge further in these hypothetical, yet fascinating thoughts; yet let
us never forget, that in a very short time, far shorter than we imagine,
all the scenes of futurity will be to us a thrilling reality. We shall
then know in a moment how much of truth there is in these speculations.
But if they all prove false, fully confident am I that the scenes which
will open upon us will surpass our liveliest conceptions. The glass
through which we now see darkly will be removed, and face to face shall we
meet eternal glories. Then shall we learn that our present bodily organs,
however admirably adapted to our condition here, were in fact clogs upon
the soul, intended to fetter its free range, that we might the more richly
enjoy the liberty of the sons of God, and expatiate in the spiritual body,
_the building of God, the house not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens_.

Let us, then, live continually under the influence of the scenes that
await us beyond the grave. They will thus become familiar to us and we
shall appreciate their infinite superiority to the objects that so deeply
interest us on earth. We shall be led to look forward even with strong
desire, in spite of the repulsive aspect of death, to that state where the
soul will be freed from her prison-house of flesh and blood, and can range
in untiring freedom through the boundless fields of knowledge and
happiness that are in prospect. Then shall we learn to despise the low
aims and contracted views of the sensualist, the demagogue, and the
worldling. High and noble thoughts and aspirations will lift our souls
above the murky atmosphere of this world, and, while yet in the body, we
shall begin to breathe the empyreal air of the new heavens, and to gather
the fruits of the tree of life in the new earth, where righteousness only
shall forever dwell.




LECTURE XII.

THE TELEGRAPHIC SYSTEM OF THE UNIVERSE.


In order to impress some important truth or transaction, men have
sometimes represented surrounding inanimate objects as looking on and
witnessing the scene, or listening to the words, and ready ever afterwards
to open their mouth to testify to the facts, should man deny them. I know
of no writings from which to derive so striking an illustration of these
strong figurative representations as the sacred Scriptures.

Take, for a first example, the solemn covenant entered into between
Jehovah and the Israelites, in the time of Joshua. To fix the transaction
as firmly as possible in the minds of the fickle people, _he took a great
stone and set it up there under an oak that was by the sanctuary of the
Lord. And Joshua said unto all the people, Behold, this stone shall be a
witness unto us. For it hath heard all the words of the Lord which he
spake unto us. It shall, therefore, be a witness unto you, lest ye deny
your God._

In a second example, the prophet Habakkuk describes the insatiable
wickedness of the Chaldeans; and addressing the nation as an individual,
he says, _Thou hast consulted shame to thy house by cutting off many
people, and hast sinned against thy soul. For the stone shall cry out of
the wall, and the beam out of the timber shall answer it._ Such
abominations had aroused even the most insensible part of creation, the
very timber and the stone, to life and indignation.

In a third example, the whole multitude of Jews had just spread their
garments upon the ground for Christ to ride over, they meanwhile crying
out, _Blessed be the King that cometh in the name of the Lord. Peace in
heaven and glory in the highest._ But some of the Pharisees said, _Master,
rebuke thy disciples; and he answered and said unto them, If these should
hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out._ If man refused to
do homage to the King of glory, when he came among them, the rocks, more
sensible, would break forth in his praises.

The discoveries of modern science, however, show us that there is a
literal sense in which the material creation receives an impression from
all our words and actions that can never be effaced; and that nature,
through all time, is ever ready to bear testimony of what we have said and
done. Men fancy that the wave of oblivion passes over the greater part of
their actions. But physical science shows us that those actions have been
transfused into the very texture of the universe, so that no waters can
wash them out, and no erosions, comminution, or metamorphoses, can
obliterate them.

The principle which I advance in its naked form is this: _Our words, our
actions, and even our thoughts, make an indelible impression on the
universe._ Thrown into a poetic form, this principle converts creation

  Into a vast sounding gallery;
  Into a vast picture gallery;
  And into a universal telegraph.

This proposition I shall endeavor to sustain by an appeal to
well-established principles of science. Yet, since some of these
principles are not the most common and familiar, and have not been
applied, except in part, to this subject, I must be more technical in
their explanation than I could wish, and more minute in the details.

The grand point, however, on which the whole subject turns, is the
doctrine of reaction. By this is meant the mutual or reciprocal action of
different things upon one another. Thus, if a body fall to the earth, the
earth reacts upon it, and stops it, or throws it back. If sulphuric acid
be poured upon limestone, a mutual action ensues; the acid acts on the
stone, and the stone reacts upon the acid, and a new compound is produced.
If light fall upon a solid body, the body reacts upon the light, which it
sends back to the eye with an image of itself. These are examples of what
is meant by reaction, or the reciprocal action of different substances
upon one another. But it is not every kind of reaction that will prove a
permanent impression to be made upon the universe by our conduct. Hence we
must be more specific.

_In the first place, the principle is proved and illustrated by the
doctrine of mechanical reaction._

From the principle, long since settled in mechanics, that action and
reaction are equal, it will follow that every impression which man makes
by his words, or his movements, upon the air, the waters, or the solid
earth, will produce a series of changes in each of those elements which
will never end. The word which is now going out of my mouth causes
pulsations or waves in the air, and these, though invisible to human eyes,
expand in every direction until they have passed around the whole globe,
and produced a change in the whole atmosphere; nor will a single
circumgyration complete the effect; but the sentence which I am now
uttering shall alter the whole atmosphere through all future time. So
that, as Professor Babbage remarks, to whom we are indebted for the first
moral application of this mechanical principle, "the air is one vast
library, on whose pages are forever written all that man has ever said, or
woman whispered." Not a word has ever escaped from mortal lips, whether
for the defence of virtue or the perversion of the truth, not a cry of
agony has ever been uttered by the oppressed, not a mandate of cruelty by
the oppressor, not a false and flattering word by the deceiver, but it is
registered indelibly upon the atmosphere we breathe. And could man command
the mathematics of superior minds, every particle of air thus set in
motion could be traced through all its changes, with as much precision as
the astronomer can point out the path of the heavenly bodies. No matter
how many storms have raised the atmosphere into wild commotion, and
whirled it into countless forms; no matter how many conflicting waves have
mixed and crossed one another; the path of each pulsation is definite, and
subject to the laws of mathematics. To follow it requires, indeed, a power
of analysis superior to human; but we can conceive it to be far inferior
to the divine.

The same thing is true of the waters. No wave has ever been raised on
their bosom, no keel has ever ploughed their surface, which has not sent
an influence and a change into every ocean, and modified every wave, that
has rolled in upon the farthest shores. As the vessel crosses the deep,
the parted waves close in, and every trace of disturbance soon disappears
from human vision. Nevertheless, it is certain that every track thus
furrowed in the waters has sent an influence through their entire mass,
such as is calculable by distinct formulae; and it may be that glorified
minds, by the principles of celestial mathematics, can as easily trace out
the paths of the unnumbered vessels that have crossed the waters, as the
astronomer can the paths of the planets or the comets.

The solid earth, too, is alike tenacious of every impression we make upon
it; not a footprint of man or beast is marked upon its surface, that does
not permanently change the whole globe. Every one of its countless atoms
will retain and exhibit an infinitesimal, but a real, effect through all
coming time. It is too minute, indeed, for the cognizance of the human
senses. But in a higher sphere there may be inlets of perception acute
enough to trace it through all its bearings, and thus render every atom of
the globe a living witness to the actions of every living being.

In view of these facts, we cannot regard the glowing language of Babbage
an exaggeration, when he says, "The soul of the <DW64>, whose fettered
body, surviving the living charnel-house of his infected prison, was
thrown into the sea to lighten the ship, that his Christian master might
escape the limited justice at length assigned by civilized man to crimes
whose profit had long gilded their atrocity, will need, at the last great
day of human accounts, no living witness of his earthly agony: when man
and all his race shall have disappeared from the face of our planet, ask
every particle of air still floating over the unpeopled earth, and it will
record the cruel mandate of the tyrant. Interrogate every wave which
breaks unimpeded on ten thousand desolate shores, and it will give
evidence of the last gurgle of the waters which closed over the head of
his dying victim. Confront the murderer with every corporeal atom of his
immolated slave, and in its still quivering movements he will read the
prophet's denunciation of the prophet king."

The distinguished mathematical professor from whom I have just quoted
limits the effects of this mathematical reaction to this globe and its
atmosphere. But if, as the philosophers now generally admit, there is a
subtile and extremely elastic medium pervading all space, why must they
not extend to other worlds, yea, to the whole universe? Without an
accurate acquaintance with the facts, indeed, it will seem a mere
extravagant imagination to say that our most trivial word or action sends
a thrill throughout the whole material universe; but I see not why sober
and legitimate science does not conduct us to this conclusion. Nay, still
further, it teaches us that the vibrations and changes which our words and
actions produce upon the universe shall never cease their action and
reaction till materialism be no more.

We venture, then, to push this thought of the ingenious mathematician into
another sphere, which he did not enter. The majority, probably, of the
ablest expounders of the Bible have maintained, as previously shown, that
the apostle Peter most unequivocally teaches us that the new heavens, or
atmosphere, and the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness, are merely
our present earth and atmosphere, melted and burnt by the fires of the
last day, and fitted up anew,--a second and a lovelier paradise,--to be
the everlasting abode of holiness and happiness. Indeed, to attempt to fix
any other meaning upon Peter's language makes of it a most absurd jumble
of literal and figurative expressions, and produces an inversion of
chronological events. But, admitting the literal meaning of the apostle to
be the true one, then those reactions, produced by our words and conduct
upon the present world, shall not be destroyed by the fires of the last
day, but reappear in the new economy, and modify the pulsations of the new
heavens and the new earth through all eternity.

But even though heaven should be in some other part of the universe, and
not this earth refitted, yet, if it be a material residence, why, on the
principles already explained, should it not be reached and affected by
those vibrations which the laws of mathematics assure us are now
spreading from each individual, as a centre, through the whole universe?
The conflagration of the earth will alter its chemical constitution, and
convert matter into new forms; but the mechanical character of the atoms
will not be destroyed; and when they emerge from the final catastrophe, in
new and brighter forms, they may still bear and exhibit the impress of
every word and every action which they now receive.

Such representations as these, I am aware, will, upon first thought, seem
to most minds little better than the dreams of fancy, although founded
upon the laws of mathematics. For how soon does every trace disappear from
the earth of the most terrible convulsions and the mightiest human
efforts! The shout of countless multitudes, the thunder and the crash of
battle, and even the volcano's bellowing, are soon succeeded by unbroken
silence; and we cannot discover a trace of any of those countless scenes
of noise and convulsion that have been acted upon the world's busy stage.
How practically absurd, then, to imagine that any influence goes out from
the feeble efforts of individuals, that can be recognized, either now or
hereafter, on the wide field of the universe!

Such objections as these, however, are based upon the impression, of which
it is hard to divest ourselves, that our present means of distinguishing
the effects of physical forces are as perfect as we can hope for in
eternity. And yet, who will doubt that, when our present gross bodies
shall be laid aside, the soul, looking forth from a spiritual body, with
quickened powers and unobstructed vision, shall penetrate a new world in
the infinitesimal parts of creation? What absurdity in the supposition
that then the minutest movement among the atoms, which can now be
discovered only by the mathematics of quantities infinitely small, may
then stand out as distinctly to our inspection as do now the features of
the landscape? What absurdity in the supposition that, even now, there are
finite minds in the universe who possess this quickened power of
perception, and, though in distant worlds, do actually know what is
passing here by the vibrations which our words and actions produce upon
elastic matter?

Thus far I have spoken of the influence of our words and actions only upon
the material universe, although the principle with which I started
includes thoughts also. But are not actions merely the external
manifestation of thoughts and purposes? and, therefore, is not thought the
efficient agency that impresses the universe? I shall also attempt to show
that there are other modes in which the intellect may do this, aside from
ordinary words and actions.

But I proceed to the second proof of the general principle. _And I derive
it from what may be called optical reactions; that is, the reaction of
light and the substances on which it impinges._ These exert such an
influence upon it, that, when it is thrown back from them, and enters the
organs of vision, or even a transparent lens, with a screen behind it, it
produces an image of those objects; in other words, what we call vision.

Now, it is this fact, in connection with the progressive motion of light,
that forms the basis of this branch of the argument. Though light moves
with such immense velocity, that, for all practical purposes on earth, it
is instantaneous, yet, in fact, it does occupy a little more than a second
for every two hundred thousand miles which it passes over. Hence a flash
of lightning occurring on earth would not be visible on the moon till a
second and a quarter afterwards; on the sun, till eight minutes; at the
planet Jupiter, when at its greatest distance from us, till fifty-two
minutes; on Uranus, till two hours; on Neptune, till four hours and a
quarter; on the star of Vega, of the first magnitude, till forty-five
years; on a star of the eighth magnitude, till one hundred and eighty
years; and on a star of the twelfth magnitude, till four thousand years;
and stars of this magnitude are visible through telescopes; nor can we
doubt that, with better instruments, stars of far less magnitude might be
seen; so that we may confidently say that this flash of lightning would
not reach the remotest heavenly body till more than six thousand years--a
period equal to that which has elapsed since man's creation.

Now, suppose that, on these different heavenly bodies, beings exist with
organs of vision sufficiently acute to discern a flash of lightning on
earth, or, rather, to see all the scenes on that hemisphere of our world
that is turned towards them; it is obvious that, on the remotest star, the
earth would be seen, at this moment, just coming forth from the Creator's
hand, in all the freshness of Eden's glories, with our first parents in
the beauty of innocence and happiness, and all the beasts of the field and
the fowls of the air playing around them. On a star of the twelfth
magnitude would be seen the world as it showed itself four thousand years
ago; on a star of the eighth magnitude, as it appeared one hundred and
eighty years ago; and so on to the moon, where would be seen the
occurrences of the present moment. And since there are ten thousand times
ten thousand worlds, scattered through these extremes of distance, is it
not clear that, taking them all together, they do at this moment contain a
vast panorama of the world's entire history, since the hour when the
morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for joy on
creation's morning?

"Thus," says the unknown author of a little work entitled "The Stars and
the Earth," in which these ideas were first developed--"thus the universe
encloses the _pictures_ of the past, like an indestructible and
incorruptible record, containing the purest and the clearest truth; and as
sound propagates itself in the air, wave after wave, or, to take a still
clearer example, as thunder and lightning are in reality simultaneous, but
in the storm the distant thunder follows at the interval of minutes
[seconds?] after the flash, so, in like manner, according to our ideas,
the pictures of every occurrence propagate themselves into the distant
ether, upon the wings of the ray of light; and although they become weaker
and smaller, yet, in immeasurable distance, they still have color and
form; and as every thing possessing color and form is visible, so must
these pictures also be said to be visible, however impossible it may be
for the human eye to perceive it with the hitherto discovered optical
instruments."

This last statement of the writer every one will acknowledge is true when
applied to God; for who will doubt that his eye can take in at a glance
that universe which he has made? And to do that is to have before him the
entire daily history of our globe; nay, probably, also, of every other
world. Indeed, such a supposition affords us a lively conception of the
divine omniscience, since we have only to suppose this panorama of the
indefinite past to extend indefinitely into the future, and the infinite
picture will also be present at this moment before the divine mind.

But is the supposition an absurdity, that there may be in the universe
created beings, with powers of vision acute enough to take in all these
pictures of our world's history, as they make the circuit of the
numberless suns and planets that lie embosomed in boundless space? Suppose
such a being at this moment upon a star of the twelfth magnitude, with an
eye turned toward the earth. He might see the deluge of Noah, just
sweeping over the surface. Advancing to a nearer star, he would see the
patriarch Abraham going out, not knowing whither he went. Coming still
nearer, the vision of the crucified Redeemer would meet his gaze. Coming
nearer still, he might alight upon worlds where all the revolutions and
convulsions of modern times would fall upon his eye. Indeed, there are
worlds enough and at the right distances, in the vast empyrean, to show
him every event in human history.

We may proceed a step farther, and inquire whether such an exaltation of
vision as we have supposed may not be hereafter enjoyed by the glorified
human mind when it passes into the spiritual body. We can hardly believe
such a transformation possible. But suppose an individual born blind to
grow up to manhood and intelligence without ever having been told any
thing about vision. Then suppose the oculist to attempt an operation for
the restoration of his sight, and, to prepare him for the transition, let
the wonders of human vision be described to him, and he be told that, by a
few moments of suffering, he can be put in possession of this astonishing
faculty; would it not appear as improbable to him as it now does to us, to
imagine that our vision can be so clarified and exalted, that we can
discern the events which are passing in distant worlds as easily as we now
do those immediately around us.

But if such a power of reading human history, from its panorama spread out
on the face of the universe, be now possessed by unfallen beings in other
spheres, what idea must they form of the character of man? At one time,
they must regard the race as given up to hopeless rebellion, and the
inflictions of vindictive justice. And then, anon, they would see the
sceptre of mercy stretched out, and a few faithful soldiers marching under
the banner of virtue and fighting the battles of the Lord. Surely they
would need a revelation to understand the anomalies and solve the
paradoxes which passed under their eyes. They would wonder why a world so
filled with tokens of divine goodness, yet so disfigured by wickedness in
every form, had not long since been struck from its orbit by the hand of
divine justice.

Thus far, in the present argument, I have been following, for the most
part, in the track marked out by others. But I now venture to advance into
regions hitherto untrodden for any such purpose; yet I trust that the
light which we may find to guide our steps may not prove the bewildering
gleam of an _ignis fatuus_, but the lamp of true science.

_My third argument is based upon electric reactions._

Whatever may be the true nature of electricity, it is convenient, and
probably leads to no error, to speak of it as a fluid, or rather two
fluids. For we find two kinds of electricity, denominated positive and
negative; and it is a general fact, that, when a body is brought into one
electrical state, it throws other bodies around it into the opposite
state, by a power called induction. Those bodies, whose electrical
condition has been thus altered, will act on others lying in a remoter
circle, and these upon others, and so on, we cannot tell how widely, for
we have reason to suppose that electricity is a power that extends through
all nature. It can hardly be doubted that is the force which constitutes
what we call chemical affinity by which the constituent parts of all
compound bodies are held together; and in those stony and metallic masses,
that occasionally fall from the heavens, we have proof that this same
power holds sway in other worlds; for the most reasonable supposition is,
that these meteors move like the planets through the regions of celestial
space, and give us some idea of the constitution of planetary worlds. If
so, the same chemical laws, and, of course, the same chemical forces,
prevail there as in our planet. Indeed, the uniformity of nature would
lead us to such a conclusion were there no facts like those of meteors to
teach it directly. It follows, from these principles, that, whenever we
change the electrical condition of bodies around us, we start a movement
to whose onward march we can assign no limits but the material universe.
These waves of influence consist of a series of attractions and
repulsions, and are independent of the mechanical reactions already
considered, which are produced by onward impulses alone.

Now, a change in the electric condition of bodies is produced often by the
slightest mechanical, chemical, thermal, physiological, and probably even
mental change in man. The usual way of exciting currents of electricity is
by friction. But chemical action, as in the galvanic battery, produces a
still more energetic and uninterrupted current. The slightest change of
temperature, also, may disturb the electric equilibrium perceptibly. It
has been of late ascertained, likewise, that a change of physiological
condition--that is, a change as to healthy and normal action--affects the
electricity of the parts of the system, and consequently of surrounding
bodies. Substitute a man in the place of a galvanic battery, making his
two hands the electrodes, and there will go out from him an electric
current, that shall sensibly deflect the needle of a galvanometer, an
instrument employed for showing the presence of small portions of
electricity.

Nay, further, it seems to be most probably established as a fact in
science, that a man, in the condition above specified, by a simple act of
his will upon his muscles, by which those of one arm only shall be
braced, will thereby send an electrical current of one sort through the
galvanometer, while a like volition, which shall brace the muscles of the
other arm will set in motion an opposite current.

It is also ascertained, that of the two sorts of nerves which supply every
muscle, the nerve of sensibility is a positive pole of a Voltaic circuit,
while the nerve of motion, or the muscle into which it passes, is a
negative pole. So that the sensor nerves act as electric telegraphs to
carry the sensations to the brain, and inform it what is needed, while the
motor nerves bring back the volition to the muscles--the brain acting as a
galvanic battery, very much like the electric organs of certain fishes.

From these statements it clearly follows, that, besides the mechanical
effects produced by our actions, there is also an electric influence
excited and propagated by almost every muscular effort, every chemical
change within us, every variation in the state of health, or vigor, and
especially by every mental effort; for no thought, probably, can pass
through the mind which does not alter the physiological, chemical, and
electric condition of the brain, and consequently of the whole system. The
stronger the emotion, the greater the change; so that those great mental
efforts, and those great decisions of the will, which bring along
important moral effects, do also make the strongest impression upon the
material universe. We cannot say how widely, by means of electric force,
they reach; but if so subtile a power does, as we have reason to suppose,
permeate all space, and all solid matter, there may be no spot in the
whole universe where the knowledge of our most secret thoughts and
purposes, as well as our most trivial outward act, may not be transmitted
on the lightning's wing; and it may be, that, out of this darkened world,
there may not be found any spot where beings do not exist with
sensibilities keen enough to learn, through electric changes, what we are
doing and thinking.

If there be no absurdity in supposing that even the mechanical influence
of our actions may be felt throughout the universe, still less is it
absurd to infer the same results from electric agencies.

It would seem, from recent discoveries, that electricity has a more
intimate connection with mental operations than any other physical force.
If not identical with the nervous influence, it seems to be employed by
the mind to accompany that influence to every part of the system; and the
greater the mental excitement, the more energetic the electric movement.
It seems to us a marvellous discovery, which enables man to convey and
register his thoughts at the distance of thousands of miles by the
electric wires. Should it excite any higher wonder to be told, that, by
means of this same power, all our thoughts are transmitted to every part
of the universe, and can be read there by the neuter perceptions of other
beings as easily as we can read the types or hieroglyphics of the electric
telegraph? Yet what a startling thought is it, that the most secret
workings of our minds and hearts are momentarily spread out in legible
characters over the whole material universe! nay, that they are so woven
into the texture of the universe, that they will constitute a part of its
web and woof forever! To believe and realize this is difficult; to deny it
is to go in the face of physical science. How many things we do believe
that are sustained by evidence far less substantial!

_My fourth argument in support of the general principle is based upon
odylic reaction._

And what is odylic reaction? What is odyle? you will doubtless inquire.
It is, indeed, a branch of science emphatically new. I know of no account
of it, save what appears in a late work, of nearly five hundred pages, by
Baron Reichenbach, of Vienna, entitled "Researches on Magnetism,
Electricity, Heat, Light, Crystallization, and Chemical Attraction, in
their Relations to the Vital Force," translated by William Gregory,
professor of chemistry in the University of Edinburgh. This writer
endeavors to show, by a great number of experiments, that there exists in
all bodies, and throughout the universe, a peculiar principle, analogous
to magnetism, electricity, light, and heat, yet distinct from them all, to
which he gives the name of _odyle_. It is most manifest in powerful
magnets; next in crystals, and exists in the human body, the sun, moon,
stars, heat, electricity, chemical action, and, in fact, the whole
material universe. Those who are most sensitive to this influence are
persons of feeble health, especially somnambulists; but it is found that
about one third of individuals, taken promiscuously, and many in good
health, are sensible of it; and it was by a series of observations on
persons of all classes and conditions for years, that the facts have been
elicited. The inquiry seems to have been conducted with great fairness and
scientific skill, and the author has the confidence of several of the most
distinguished scientific men in Europe. If there be no mistake in the
results, they promise to explain philosophically many popular
superstitions, and also the phenomena of mesmerism, without a resort to
superhuman agency, either satanic or angelic. They yield, also, an
interesting support to the principle of this lecture. Says Baron
Reichenbach, "There is nothing in these observations [which he had just
detailed] that, after the contents of the preceding treatises, can much
surprise us; but they are certainly a fine additional confirmation of what
has been stated in regard to the sun and moon, and also of the fact that
the whole material universe, even beyond our earth, acts on us with the
very same kind of influence which resides in all terrestrial objects; and
lastly, it shows that we stand in a connection of mutual influence,
hitherto unsuspected, with the universe; so that, in fact, the stars are
not altogether devoid of action on our sublunary, perhaps even on our
practical, world, and on the mental processes of some heads."--P. 162.

By the experiments here referred to by this author, he had endeavored to
show, that even the light of the stars exerted an odylic influence upon
the human system; that is, certain effects independent altogether of their
light; and if there be no mistake in the experiments, they certainly do
show this. Such a fact almost realizes the suggestions already made, that
beings in other spheres may possess such an exaltation of sensibilities as
to be able to learn what is going on in this world, and that it is easy to
conceive how our sensorium may be raised to the same exalted pitch.

_My fifth argument, illustrative of the general principle, is based upon
chemical reaction._

Mechanical reaction changes the form and position of bodies; chemical
reaction alters their constitution. By the decomposition of some
compounds, the elements are obtained for forming others; and such changes
are going on around us and within us in great numbers unperceived. In the
worlds above us, and in the earth beneath us, from its circumference to
its centre, the transmutations of chemistry are in progress, and many of
them are modified by the agency of man; so that here is another channel
through which human actions exert an influence upon the material universe,
and to an extent which we cannot measure. Let us look at some of the modes
in which this is done.

Take, in the first place, the facts respecting photography, or the art of
obtaining sketches of objects by means of the action of light. This is
strictly a chemical process. In a beam of light, that comes to us from the
sun, we find not only rays of light and heat, but chemical rays, which act
upon some bodies to change their constitution. When these rays are
reflected from a human countenance, and fall upon a silvered plate, that
has been coated with iodine and bromine, they leave an impression, which
is fixed and brought out as a portrait by the vapor of mercury and some
other agents. Here the chemical changes produced by these rays are
exceedingly perfect; but they produce effects upon many other substances,
artificially or naturally prepared; such as paper, for instance, immersed
in a solution of bichromate of potash, or upon vegetation, whose green
color is probably the result of this action, (as is obvious from the fact
that plants growing in the dark are destitute of color.) Indeed, a large
part of the changes of color in nature depend upon these invisible rays.

It seems, then, that this photographic influence pervades all nature; nor
can we say where it stops. We do not know but it may imprint upon the
world around us our features, as they are modified by various passions,
and thus fill nature with daguerreotype impressions of all our actions
that are performed in daylight. It may be, too, that there are tests by
which nature, more skilfully than any human photographist, can bring out
and fix those portraits, so that acuter senses than ours shall see them,
as on a great canvas, spread over the material universe. Perhaps, too,
they may never fade from that canvas, but become specimens in the great
picture gallery of eternity.

The thought may perhaps cross some mind, that, though those human actions
which are performed in sunlight may be imprinted upon the universe, yet no
deed of darkness can thus reveal its author, and remain an eternal stigma
upon his name. But there is another phase to this subject. What is the
evidence that the chemical rays of a sunbeam are rays of light? We know
that they are unequally diffused through the spectrum, being most
energetic at its violet extremity; but there is no proof that they are
visible. They may, like heat, exert their appropriate influence, which
seems to be mainly that of deoxidation, and yet not be colorific. If so,
we might expect them to operate in the dark; and experiment proves that
they do. An engraving on paper, placed between an iodized silver plate and
an amalgamated copper plate, was left in the dark for fifteen hours. On
exposing the amalgamated plate to the vapor of mercury, "a very nice
impression of the engraving was brought out--it having been effected
through the thickness of the paper."--Mr. Hunt, _"On the Changes which
Bodies are capable of undergoing in Darkness," Phil. Mag._ vol. xxii. p.
277.--Many like experiments prove the existence; among bodies, of a power
analogous to, if not identical with, that which accompanies light, and is
the basis of the photographic process. Some philosophers do not regard
them as identical. But this is of little consequence in my present
argument. For all agree that there is a power in nature capable of
impressing the outlines of some objects upon others in total darkness.

In respect to such cases, there are one or two facts deserving of special
notice. And, first. We must not infer, because man has yet been able to
bring out to human view but a few examples of this sort, that they are,
therefore, few in nature. Rather should the discovery of a few lead to the
conclusion that nature may be full of them, and that a more delicate and
refined chemistry may yet disclose them. For the few known cases give us a
glimpse of a recondite law of nature, which most likely pervades creation.
Some regard these dark rays as neither light, nor heat, nor chemical rays,
but a new element; but, whatever its nature, no reason can be given why it
should operate only in a few cases, and those of artificial preparation.
More probably, through this influence, all bodies brought into contact, or
proximity, impress their images upon one another; and the time may come,
when, touched by a more subtile chemistry than man now wields, these
images shall take a place among obvious and permanent things in the
universe, to the honor and glory of some, but to the amazement and
everlasting contempt of more.

Of more, I say; for wickedness has oftener sought the concealment of
darkness than modest virtue. The foulest enormities of human conduct have
always striven to cover themselves with the shroud of night. The thief,
the counterfeiter, the assassin, the robber, the murderer, and the
seducer, feel comparatively safe in the midnight darkness, because no
human eye can scrutinize their actions. But what if it should turn out
that sable night, to speak paradoxically, is an unerring photographist!
What if wicked men, as they open their eyes from the sleep of death, in
another world, should find the universe hung round with faithful pictures
of their earthly enormities, which they had supposed forever lost in the
oblivion of night! What scenes for them to gaze at forever! They may now,
indeed, smile incredulously at such a suggestion; but the disclosures of
chemistry may well make them tremble. Analogy does make it a scientific
probability that every action of man, however deep the darkness in which
it was performed, has imprinted its image upon nature, and that there may
be tests which shall draw it into daylight, and make it permanent so long
as materialism endures.

There is another chemical principle, called _catalysis_, through which
human actions may make powerful and permanent impressions on the universe,
and that, too, unperceived by man. In some cases, the mere presence of a
certain agent, in a small quantity, will produce extensive changes of
constitution in other bodies, while the agent itself remains unaltered.
Thus a strip of platinum will determine the union of oxygen and hydrogen
in the platinum lamp; and sulphuric acid, in a solution of starch, will
change it first into gum, and then into sugar; while neither the platinum
nor the acid experiences any change. These are called _catalytic_ changes.
More often, however, the catalytic agent is itself in the process of
change, and it produces an analogous change in other bodies. A familiar
example is yeast, or ferment. This substance contains a principle called
_diastase_, one part of which is capable of converting two thousand parts
of starch into sugar; and this is what is done in the familiar process of
fermentation, when we always see verified the scriptural declaration, _A
little leaven leaveneth the whole lump._

The precise manner in which the diastase operates in these cases we may
not be able to explain. The particles of the diastase, being themselves in
motion, possess the power of putting in motion the particles of other
bodies; and these, again, operate upon others, and so on, often to an
astonishing extent. In the case of the platinum and the acid, however, no
change takes place in their molecules, and we can only state it, as an
unexplained fact, that they do produce changes in other bodies.

We have other examples of catalytic influences in nature, exhibiting an
agency still more subtile and energetic. I refer to contagious and
epidemic diseases in animals and plants. An influence goes abroad, and
seems to be propagated through the atmosphere, traversing whole
continents, and crossing wide oceans, powerful and deadly in its effects,
yet inappreciable by the most delicate mechanical or chemical tests. But
the phenomena admit of explanation by supposing a movement, either in the
particles of the atmosphere, or of the still more subtile and elastic
medium that pervades all space; a movement started at a particular spot,
as the cholera in India, and the small-pox or some epidemic from some
focus, and communicating an unhealthy movement from atom to atom, till it
has encircled the earth and mowed down its hecatombs.

Now, when we look at such facts, who can suppose it improbable that man,
who can hardly lift a finger without producing some chemical change,
should start some of these movements, that may reach far beyond his
imagination? And here, as in the cases that have preceded, we must not
estimate the actual change in the constitution of bodies by the apparent;
for we know that multitudes of such changes are passing within us and
around us, without our cognizance; and yet there may be chemical eyes in
the universe quick enough to see them all, and to follow them onward to
the final result; for there must be a final resultant of all such forces;
nor can we doubt that, some time or other, and to some beings, if not to
ourselves, it will be manifest. Here, then, is another mode in which a
chemical influence may go forth from us, reaching the utmost limits of
matter and of time; nay, perhaps extending into eternity, and revealing
our actions to the finer sensibilities of exalted beings.

_I derive my sixth argument in support of the general principle from
organic reaction._

Few persons, save the zoologist and comparative anatomist, have any idea
of the great nicety and delicacy of the relations that exist between all
the species of animals and plants, so that what affects one affects all
the rest. Perhaps the subject may be illustrated by supposing all the
species of organic beings to be distributed at different distances through
a hollow sphere, while between them all there is a mutual repulsion, and
the whole are retained in the form of a sphere by an attracting force
directed to the centre. By such an arrangement, if one species be taken
out of the sphere, or its repellency become stronger or weaker, the
relative position of all the rest would be altered. No matter how many
millions of species there are, the movements of one will cause a reaction
among all the rest.

Now, this illustration, although an approximation, falls short of
representing the actual state of things in nature. It is no exaggeration
to say that a relation similar to the supposed one exists throughout the
vast dominions of animate beings; so that you cannot obliterate or change
one species without affecting all the rest. Often the change is effected
so slowly and indirectly that the beings experiencing it are unconscious
of it; or they may realize some slight disturbance of the balance in
organic nature, and yet be unconscious of the cause. By the illustration
above given, when one or more species is removed from the supposed sphere,
or its repellent force weakened or strengthened, although an influence
will reach all the other species, yet a new equilibrium will soon be
established, and no permanently bad effects seem to follow. But not so in
nature. There the balance originally fixed between different beings by
infinite wisdom is the best possible; and every change, not intended by
Providence, must be for the worse. It was intended, for instance, that man
should subdue forests and extirpate noxious plants, as well as ferocious
and noxious animals; and, therefore, such a change operates to his
advantage, but to the injury of the inferior animals. Yet often he pushes
this exterminating process so far as to injure himself also. Thus the
farmer wages a relentless war against certain birds, because of some
slight evils which they occasion. But when they are extirpated,
opportunity is given for noxious insects to multiply, and to bring upon
the farmer evils much greater than those he thus escapes.

To prevent an excessive multiplication of some species is one of the grand
objects of the present balance established among the whole. Such an
increase is an inevitable effect of the extinction of a species, and it
often occasions great mischief. The carnivorous species, especially, were
intended to act as nature's police, to prevent a too great increase of the
herbivorous races, which are rendered excessively fruitful to keep the
world full. If, then, a carnivorous species become extinct, the species on
which it has fed will so multiply as to prove great nuisances, and to
produce wide disorder among many species, not only of animals, but of
plants. And often has man, in this way, by the extermination of species,
in particular districts, unwittingly brought a powerful reaction on
himself.

On the Island of New Zealand, within one or two hundred years past, eight
or ten species of gigantic birds--the dinornis and palapteryx--have become
extinct, probably through the persecution of man. The natives, without
doubt, hunted them down for food, until all disappeared: and as no
quadruped of much size inhabits the island, we think there is no little
plausibility in the suggestion of Professor Owen, that when the birds were
all gone, or nearly gone, the natives were tempted to the practice of
cannibalism, as the only means of gratifying their passion for meat. What
a terrible retribution for disturbing the equilibrium of organic nature!

The records of zoology and botany afford endless illustration of this
subject. But the great truth which they all teach is, that so intimately
are we related to other beings, that almost every action of ours reacts
upon them for good or evil; for good, upon the whole, when we conform to
the laws which God has established; and for evil, when by their violation
we disturb the equilibrium of organized nature, and produce irregular
action. In this latter case, we cannot tell where the disturbance, thus
introduced, will end; for it is not a periodical oscillation, like the
perturbations of the heavenly bodies, nor a mere change of position and
intensity by mechanical forces.

But does not this law of mutual influence between organic beings extend to
other worlds? Why should it not be transmitted by means of the
luminiferous ether to the limits of the universe? Who knows but a blow
struck upon a single link of organic beings here may be felt through the
whole circle of animate existence in all worlds? That is a narrow view of
God's work, which isolates the organic races on this globe from the rest
of the universe. The more philosophical view throws the golden chain of
influence around the whole animal creation, whether small or great, near
or remote.

Reverting to the reasoning which we employed in tracing out the extent of
mechanical reaction, we shall see that organic reaction may extend not
only to other worlds, but also into eternity. For if the matter of the
universe is to survive the conflagration of the last day, the future
economy of life must have some connection with the present, whether this
earth or some other part of the universe be the theatre of its
development.

I speak here not of moral influences, which we know will pass over from
time into eternity, but of a physical reaction, which may also reach
beyond the same gulf. For at least a part of those creatures, who in this
world have felt the modifying power of other beings, will survive the
world's final catastrophe, and occupy material, though spiritual bodies,
whose germ is represented as derived from their bodies on earth. We have
reason, then, to suppose some connection and modifying influence between
them. And we might show, also, that moral causes, which so affect the
physical character here, may exert a like power in eternity. But time will
not permit the argument to be followed out.

The conclusion, then, from this argument also, is, that probably every
action of ours on earth modifies the condition and destiny of every other
created being in this and other worlds through time and eternity. What
though human experience, dependent on the bluntness of mortal
sensibilities, cannot demonstrate such an influence? Shall the gross
perceptions of this disordered world be made the standard of all that
exists? Rather let us listen to the suggestions of science, which tell us
of the possibility of senses far more acute in other worlds, and in a
future state of being--senses that can trace out and feel the vibrations
of the delicate web of organic influence that binds together the great and
the small, the past, the present, and the future, throughout the universe.

_My seventh argument in support of the general principle depends upon
mental reaction._

Mental reaction operates in two ways--indirectly and directly; indirectly
through matter, directly by the influence of mind upon mind, without an
intervening medium. When describing electric reactions, I have shown how
our thoughts and volitions change the electric, chemical, and even
mechanical condition of the body, and, through these media, that of all
the material universe; and I need not repeat that argument. But to modify
the inanimate world through these agencies necessarily affects all other
intellects, which are connected with matter; and since man in a future
world is to assume a spiritual body, we may reasonably suppose that all
created beings are in some way connected with matter; and, therefore, by
means of materialism, through the subtile agencies that have been named,
we may be sure that an influence goes out from every thought and volition
of ours, and reaches every other intellect in the wide creation. I know
not whether, in other worlds, their inhabitants possess sensibilities
acute enough to be conscious of this influence; certainly, in this world,
it is only to a limited extent that men are conscious of it. Yet we must
admit that it exists and acts, or deny the demonstrated verities of
science.

But is there not evidence that mind sometimes acts directly upon other
minds, without any gross, intervening media? It may, indeed, be doubted
whether any created intellect operates, except in connection with some
form of matter. Yet there are certain facts in the history of individuals
in an abnormal state, which show that one mind acts upon another,
independent of the senses, or any other material means or
intercommunication discoverable by the senses. Take the details of
sleep-waking, or somnambulism; and do not they present us with numerous
cases in which impressions are made by one mind upon another, even when
separated beyond the sphere of the senses? Take the facts respecting
double consciousness, and those where the power was possessed of reading
the thoughts, of others, or the facts relating to prevision; and surely
they cannot be explained but by the supposition of a direct influence of
one mind upon another.

Still more decided in this respect are the most familiar facts of
artificial somnambulism, called mesmerism. Whatever may be our views of
this unsettled branch of knowledge as a whole, it would seem as if we
could not doubt that its facts prove the action of mind upon mind,
independently of bodily organization, without rejecting evidence which
would prove any thing else.

Now, if we admit that mind does operate upon other minds while we are in
the body, independent of the body, can we tell how far the influence
extends? If electricity, or some other subtile agent, be essential to this
action, it would indeed transfer this example to electric reaction, but it
would still be real. Yet, in the absence of all certain proof of the
electric power in this case, and with certain proof of the existence of
such an influence, we may place it among those marvellous means by which
man makes an impression, wide beyond our present knowledge, upon the
universe, material and mental; and it ought to make us feel that our
lightest thoughts and feeblest volitions may reach the outer limit of
intellectual life, and its consequences meet us in distant worlds, and far
down the track of eternity.

_Finally. I derive an argument in support of the general principle from
geological reaction._

By this expression, I mean those reactions of whose existence geology
furnishes the proof. They are, in fact, the reactions already considered;
but geology proves that they have actually operated in past time in many
instances, by evidence registered on the rocks, and thus tends to confirm
our reasoning derived from other sources. I do not mean that the proof is
before us of precisely such an action as our reasoning has supposed, but
so analogous to that supposed as to lend it confirmation. A few examples
will illustrate the argument.

The effects of mechanical reaction are, perhaps, most frequent and
striking in the rocks, especially those deposited from water. Here we
have, for instance, the _ripple marks_, which present us with a faithful
register of the slightest movement of the waters, and also of the motions
of the atmosphere, or of the currents in it, that agitated the waters. In
the almost impalpable powder that sometimes constitutes the rocks, we can
trace the slightest erosion and comminution of the strata from which the
deposit was worn. In the petrified rain drops we find an indelible trace
of the most gentle shower. And here, too, we can see the direction of the
wind. Such facts, also, imply the operation of electricity and gravity, of
heat and cold, collecting and condensing the rain, and bringing it down;
and so similar to present meteorological phenomena do these ancient
showers appear to have been, that we may conclude that electrical
reactions, in all respects, were the same as at present.

The preservation of the tracks of numerous animals in some of the
sandstones shows us how deep and permanent an impression the most trivial
action of a living being may make. In these footmarks we sometimes notice
a change in the direction of the animal along the surface; and, of course,
an impression deeper or more shallow than usual, of parts of the foot, by
the action of the muscles employed in changing the animal's course. Here,
then, we have the register of so slight an action as an increased or
diminished action of a particular muscle of the leg. Nay, further, such a
movement affords us an infallible register of an act of the animal's will,
since that must have preceded the change; and that implies an electric
current, first inward along the sensor nerves, and then outward along the
motor nerves.

Geology lays open before us a map of the changes in organic nature from
the apparent commencement of life on the globe, and thus enables us to see
examples of this kind of reaction. We find different economies of life to
have appeared, but all of them most wisely adapted to existing
circumstances. In each economy we perceive the balance between the
different tribes provided for. If, for instance, one race of carnivorous
species died out, new races were created to occupy their place, so that
the herbivorous species should not overrun the globe. Thus, when the early
sauroid fishes diminished, the gigantic and carnivorous marine saurian
reptiles were introduced. And when the chambered shells, whose occupants
were carnivorous, disappeared with the secondary period, numerous univalve
mollusks were created to feed on other animals; although previously that
family were herbivorous. It would seem, however, as if each successive
economy of organic life had contained within itself the seeds of
extinction. It was, indeed, mainly a change of climate which first caused
some species to disappear. But their destruction so disturbed the balance
of creation that others followed, until total extinction was the result,
which, however, was often hastened by catastrophes.

Thus we have in the stony volume of the earth's history actual examples of
effects resulting from the acts, and even volitions, of the inferior
animals, which can never be erased while the rocks endure.

If, therefore, with our imperfect senses, we can see these results so
distinctly, we may safely infer that human conduct, and thought, and
volition impress upon the globe, nay, upon the universe, marks which
nothing can obliterate.

The thoughts which press upon the mind, in view of such a conclusion, are
numerous and interesting. A few we can hardly help noticing.

_In the first place, what a centre of influence does man occupy!_

It is just as if the universe were a tremulous mass of jelly which every
movement of his made to vibrate from the centre to the circumference. It
is as if the universe were one vast picture gallery, in some part of which
the entire history of this world, and of each individual, is shown on
canvas, sketched by countless artists, with unerring skill. It is as if
each man had his foot upon the point where ten thousand telegraphic wires
meet from every part of the universe, and he were able, with each
volition, to send abroad an influence along these wires, so as to reach
every created being in heaven and in earth. It is as if we had the more
than Gorgon power of transmuting every object around us into forms
beautiful or hideous, and of sending that transmuting process forward
through time and through eternity. It is as if we were linked to every
created being by a golden chain, and every pulsation of our heart or
movement of our mind modified the pulsation of every other heart and the
movements of every other intellect. Wonderful, wonderful is the position
man occupies, and the part he acts! And yet it is not a dream, but the
deliberate conclusion of true science.

_Secondly. We see in this subject the probability that our minutest
actions, and perhaps our thoughts, from day to day, are known throughout
the universe._

I speak not here of the divine omniscience, which we know reaches every
thought and action; but I refer to created beings. Science shows us how,
in a variety of modes, such knowledge may be conveyed to them by natural
agencies; and we have only to suppose them to be possessed of far more
acute sensibilities than man's, in order to be affected by these agencies
as we are by more powerful impressions. And when we consider how fettered
and depressed a condition this world obviously is in, because of its
sinfulness, who will doubt but the unfallen beings of other spheres may
enjoy those keener perceptions that will bring our whole history
distinctly before them, day by day? The thought is, indeed, startling, but
not unphilosophical.

If this suggestion be true, then may we indulge the thought as highly
probable that our friends, who have gone before us into the eternal world,
may be as familiar with our conduct, our words, and even our thoughts, as
we are ourselves. If we are acting as we ought, and so as will please
them, this must be an animating idea; but if we are not, let it serve to
stimulate us to our duty, if a sense of the divine omniscience is not
sufficient.

_We infer from this subject, thirdly, the probability that, in a future
state, the power of reading the past history of the world, and of
individuals, may be possessed by man._

The nature of the future spiritual body, and of the heavenly state and
employments, impresses the mind with the belief that it will be a
condition far more exalted than the present, and that the inlets to the
soul will be cleared of all obstructions; so that no impression made on
such a sensorium shall fail to give the mind a distinct perception. In
heaven, such extreme sensibility might become a source of richest
pleasure; in the world of despair, an instrument of severe punishment; yet
in both cases it might be the natural result of a man's earthly course.
Now, such an indefinite exaltation of the perceptions in futurity scarcely
any one will doubt. Why should we doubt any more that it may rise so high
that man will be able to read, through the agencies we have pointed out,
the minutest action and thought in human experience? If, as we have reason
to suppose, angels can do it now, the Bible informs us that we shall be
like the angels.

If this view be admitted, then it may be that the present world is the
only spot in the universe where deeds of wickedness can be concealed. In a
sinful world we can see reasons why the power of concealment should exist
to some extent. For though no man should do or think any thing which he is
ashamed to have known, yet, if all the plans of men for the promotion of
good objects were fully known from their inception, the wicked could
generally defeat them. But in a world of perfect holiness no such
necessity would exist, since the universal desire would be to promote
every worthy object; and, therefore, it may be that every soul will lie
perfectly open to the inspection of all other souls--an arrangement that
seems appropriate to such a world.

In what an aspect does this principle present the conduct of the suicide!
Tired of earthly scenes, he rushes unbidden into eternity to escape them.
But instead of escaping them, he goes where every one of these mortal
evils--yea, and multiplied, too, a thousand fold--shall start up in his
path with a distinctness of which he had no conception. And henceforth he
can never find, as in this world, even a partial deliverance from their
terrible vividness. It is as if, to avoid the moonlight, because too
bright, a man should plunge into the sun.

Again, if this principle be true, how annoying will it be, to the man who
has not acted well his part in this world, to meet in eternity the
ever-recurring mementoes of his evil deeds! He will hardly be able to open
his eyes without seeing some plague-spot on creation as the result of his
conduct; and although infinite wisdom and power have stayed the plague, no
thanks are due to him. The tendencies of his conduct on earth will be
most distressing to look upon; and these shall not cease to lie open
before him till the last sand in the glass of eternity is run out.

But, on the other hand, how does this principle strew the path of eternity
with flowers to that man who, in this world, finds his highest pleasure in
doing good! Not merely his highest and noblest deeds of benevolence here
shall loom up in bright perspective there, but a thousand acts of private
beneficence, unknown to the world and forgotten by himself, shall stand
out distinctly on the moving panorama of that better world; and he will be
amazed to see what a wide and blessed influence they have exerted, and
will exert, as the catalytic influence moves on and widens in its endless
march. It might have ruined him to see these fruits in this world, by
exciting pride and vain glory; but it will awaken there only gratitude and
love to the grace that enabled him thus, in time, to sow the seeds which
should fill eternity with flowers, and fragrance, and golden fruit.

_Finally. What new and astonishing avenues of knowledge_ does this subject
show us will probably open upon the soul in eternity!

I do not now speak of the new knowledge of the divine character which will
then astonish and delight the soul by direct intuition, but rather of
those new channels that will be thrown open, through which a knowledge of
other worlds, and of other created beings, can be conveyed to the soul
almost illimitably. And just consider what a field that will be. At
present we know nothing of the inhabitants of other worlds, and it is only
by analogy that we make their existence probable. Nor, with our present
senses, could we learn any thing respecting them but by an actual visit to
each world. But let the suggestions to which our reasonings have
conducted us prove true,--let our sensorium be so modified and
spiritualized that every thought, word, and action in those worlds shall
come to us through pulsations falling upon the organ of vision, or by an
electric current through the nerve of sensation, or by some transmitted
chemical change,--and on what vantage ground should we be placed! Without
leaving the spot of our residence, supposing the universe constituted as
it now is, we might study out the character and constitution of the
countless inhabitants of at least one hundred millions of worlds, which we
know to exist; nay, of ten thousand times that number, which probably
exist. Every movement of matter around us, however infinitesimal, would be
freighted with new knowledge, perhaps from distant spheres. Every ray of
light that met our gaze from the broad heavens above us would print an
image upon our visual organs of events transpiring in distant worlds,
while every electrical flash might convey some idea to our mind never
before thought of. Every chemical ray, too, might inform us of scenes far
off in the regions of night; and then who can calculate what organic and
mental influences might be transmitted to us from beings of all ranks and
scattered through all worlds? To speak of organs, indeed, as the medium of
perceptions in another world, may be absurd; but we mean only, by that
term, whatever may be substituted for our present organs; and we assume
that the properties of matter will exist forever; and, therefore, we may
presume that light, and electricity, and chemical affinity, and corporeal
and mental influences will, under modified forms, be the modes by which
knowledge shall ever be transmitted. At least, assuming that they will be,
and the magnificent conceptions we have now traced out may be hereafter
realized. And surely, if they be only slightly probable, the anticipation
is full of thrilling interest, and the moral effect of dwelling upon it
must be salutary. It spreads out before us fields of knowledge which
eternity can never exhaust, and attractive so immeasurably above all the
knowledge of earth that we almost wait impatiently for the summons to
break from our prison-house below, and to rise on our new pinions to
celestial scenes.

If such rich means of knowledge of created things be enjoyed by celestial
minds, and they can drink it in to the full measure of their faculties,
then one inevitable effect must be to make them unite, ever and anon, in
adoration and praise to the infinite Being who created and sustains all,
and whose glory is illustrated by all his works. And we can conceive that
there may be stated periods, when, from every part of the universe, the
anthem of praise comes rolling onwards towards some central spot, where
the divine presence is most felt. O, how gladly will each happy soul,
animated by every new accession of knowledge, join in the swelling paean as
it mounts up to the third heavens! Who knows but this is the hour when the
peal is beginning? O, let not this world be the only spot in the universe
where it shall be unheard and unheeded. Surely we see enough of the divine
glory here to begin the song, which we hope to pour forth in loftier notes
on high, _unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God;
to whom be honor and glory, forever and ever. Amen._




LECTURE XIII.

THE VAST PLANS OF JEHOVAH.


It is interesting and instructive to trace the history of man's progress
in the knowledge of the existence, character, and plans of Jehovah. We
shall find that progress to have been marked by epochs, rather than
continuous advancement. Some new revelation from heaven, or some new
discovery in science, has given a sudden expansion to his views of the
Deity, which have then remained in a good degree stationary for a long
period. My chief object in this lecture is to show what accessions to our
knowledge of the divine plans have been derived from science, especially
from geology. But it will give greater distinctness and impressiveness to
the subject to take a review of the principal steps by which the human
mind has reached its present accurate spiritual and enlarged views of the
Deity.

_We will first look at man in the rudest condition in society, in which he
has any idea of the existence of beings superior to himself._

For there is a state of his being in which no such ideas exist in his
mind; tribes of men, and especially individuals, who have lived in a wild
state, away from all human intercourse, have been found with no idea of a
superior being of any sort. Other tribes have existed a little more
elevated above the irrational animals, and these have an impression,
derived perhaps from their moral sense, or growing out of their
superstitious fears, that some power exists in the universe greater than
themselves. But having never entertained an abstract idea on any other
subject, and depending alone upon their senses for their knowledge, they
identify God with the most remarkable objects of nature. They listen to
his voice in the wind and the thunder, in the ocean's roar, and the
volcano's bellowing; and they see him in the sun, moon, and stars. They
feel that he must be superior to themselves; but how much superior, they
know not. They never think of him as infinite, because the idea of
infinity on any subject never enters their mind. They conceive of the
earth only as a plain of considerable extent, bounded by a circle, beyond
which their thoughts never wander; and they look up to the heavens as a
dome, perhaps solid, studded by luminous bodies, it may be a few feet or
yards in diameter. They suppose that, somehow or other, this superior
Being has the control of their destinies; but the idea of any thing like
worship is too spiritual to be conceived of, except, perhaps, some
superstitious rite, performed to deprecate the divine displeasure. In
short, every thing in their notion of God is indefinite, gross, and
confined to the narrow sphere of the senses.

_In the second place, polytheism, especially among nations somewhat
civilized, is an advance in man's conceptions of the Supreme Being._

Polytheism probably originated in the deification of distinguished men.
Superior minds, who had been the leaders or the benefactors of mankind,
were suddenly torn from an admiring world by death. Their bodies were left
behind, but the animating principle, the immortal mind, had vanished in a
moment; and it was a most natural inquiry, even among the most ignorant,
whether some undying principle had not escaped and gone to a higher
sphere; for it would be difficult to conceive how so much intelligence
and virtue should be quenched in a moment in eternal night. It would be a
most natural and gratifying conclusion with survivors, that their departed
leaders and benefactors still lived, and were in some way concerned in
watching over their interests, and in controlling their destinies.
Conjectures of this sort would, in a few generations, settle into positive
belief. Now, this would be a most important advance upon the gross
materialism, and indefinite ideas, which identified divinity with striking
objects of nature; for if distinguished warriors and statesmen were still
alive after their bodies were laid in the grave, there must have escaped,
at the moment of death, some principle too subtile to be cognizable by the
senses, or by chemical, mechanical, or electrical agencies; and which,
therefore, may have been immaterial. At least, by such a belief, men would
be led insensibly to form an idea of the human soul as an extremely
tenuous, if not immaterial, principle. Especially would educated
men--those devoted to philosophical pursuits--come at length to have a
clear conception of a spiritual being, neither visible by the senses, nor
dependent upon the senses for the exercise of its faculties. Very soon
would the imagination fill the universe with such beings, and conceive
them as holding intercourse with one another, and as presiding over all
the objects of this lower world, and directing all its destinies. It would
be very natural, however, to endow these superior beings with human
characteristics, and to suppose them actuated by human passions; and thus
would the celestial society be represented as a counterpart of that on
earth, deformed by the same vices and crimes. This would lead to the idea
of a gradation in rank, power, and intellect among the gods, and to the
conception of one as supreme. In the popular mythology, however, even
Jupiter was represented as acting under the influence of selfishness,
pride, lust, and passion; and as sometimes brought into peril by his
powerful inferiors. Some of the philosophers of Greece and Rome did,
indeed, give descriptions of their supreme divinity not unworthy the
biblical views of Jehovah. It may be that they got the clew to these just
and elevated conceptions from the Bible. But it is not difficult to
conceive that, in the manner which I have described, they might, by
reasoning, with, perhaps, some hints derived from revelation, have
gradually attained to these just and noble conceptions of the supreme
divinity. Yet it ought not to be forgotten that these exalted views of the
philosophers were not shared at all by the common people, and that even
the philosophers themselves were for the most part polytheists.

The next step in man's knowledge of God was an immeasurable advance upon
polytheism. _I refer to the revelation which God made of himself to the
Jews in the Old Testament._ Most of this revelation did, indeed, precede
the writings of the Greek and Roman philosophers, but it was confined to a
rude and almost unknown people, until the days of their glory had gone by,
and did not spread over the globe till an opportunity had been afforded to
prove that _the world by wisdom knew not God_. You may, indeed, find, in
the writings of a few philosophers, passages descriptive of the natural
attributes of the Deity that will compare favorably with those of the Old
Testament. But his moral attributes, his benevolence, mercy, justice, and
holiness, are brought out in the Old Testament in a far more distinct and
impressive manner than in all other ancient writings. Another point, and a
vital one, with the writers of the Old Testament, in which that inspired
volume goes infinitely beyond the philosophers, is the unity of God. They
teach, as a fundamental principle, and with all the earnestness which
inspiration can bestow, not only that Jehovah is supreme, but that he is
God alone, and that no other gods exist. You may, indeed, find statements
to this effect in the works of the philosophers; but the conduct of
Socrates, the most enlightened of them all,--in his dying moments,--in
directing a sacrifice to be made to AEsculapius, is a good practical
commentary upon their doctrine of the divine unity. It shows that, with
some correct notions of the supreme divinity, they believed in the
existence of inferior deities; or, at least, they did not regard the
popular error on this subject of importance enough to require them boldly
to testify against it. But such testimony constitutes the burden of the
Old Testament, as if all other religious truths were of little importance
without it. And so far as these inspired books succeeded in fixing this
doctrine in the minds of the Jews, they performed an immense service for
religion. They swept at once from the universe the thirty thousand
divinities of Greece and Rome, and placed Jehovah only on the throne. But,
for some reason or other, polytheism has always been a doctrine most
congenial to human nature; especially to the uncultivated mind; and the
probability is, that the great mass of the Jews, while they believed in
the supremacy of Jehovah, still supposed that the gods of the heathen had
a real existence. This certainly was the case before the Babylonish exile,
though doubtless the patriarchs had more correct notions. This fact
explains the otherwise unaccountable disposition of the Jews to fall away
to idolatry, in spite of all which Jehovah did to preserve among them his
true worship.

On the subject, also, of the divine spirituality, we have evidence that
the notions of the great mass of the Jewish nation were low and confused.
They distinguished, it is true, very clearly between the body and the
soul. But they probably conceived of the latter as a very subtile,
invisible, corporeal essence, and not that pure, immaterial substance
which is understood by that term in metaphysics. The abstract ideas
attached to the soul in the nineteenth century probably never entered
their minds; and though in strict language they might be called
materialists, they were by no means such materialists as modern times have
produced, who understandingly deny the existence of the soul, and regard
it as a function of the brain. The Jews thought of God as the most subtile
essence of which they could form any idea; but whether he were material,
or immaterial, probably they never inquired. And it cannot escape the
notice of a reader of the Old Testament how frequently God is represented
by figures derived from material objects. This was in accommodation to the
rude and uncultivated state of most minds in those early days. Purely
abstract truths would have conveyed no ideas to minds which had never been
accustomed to abstractions. Hence it is, that we meet in the Bible with so
many descriptions of the Deity, which theologians and philosophers
denominate _anthropopathic_ and _anthropomorphic_. It was in accommodation
to the uncultivated state of common minds, which could form no conceptions
of God that were not founded on some property belonging to man. The
language of the sacred writers does, indeed, when correctly interpreted,
convey the idea of the most perfectly simple, spiritual, and immaterial
substance as constituting the divine essence; and minds accustomed to
abstract ideas find no difficulty in enucleating the spiritual meaning of
Scripture. But had the divine Being been described by abstract terms, the
great mass of men, even at the present day, would receive no impressive
conception of the Godhead. God, therefore, in the Old Testament, revealed
as much concerning himself and his plans, as men would understand. But
other revelations and developments would follow, when the human mind
should be prepared to receive and appreciate them.

_The revelations of Christianity have brought to light so much respecting
the moral character and moral government of Jehovah, as to leave little
further to be desired or expected in this world._

The natural attributes of the Deity have a more spiritual and less
anthropopathic aspect in the New Testament than in the Old. We are told in
the former distinctly, that _God is a spirit, and those who worship him
must worship him in spirit and in truth_. But God's moral character, as
developed in the New Testament, in the plan of redemption and salvation,
presents us with a perfection and a glory unknown in all previous
revelations. We have, it is true, in the Old Testament intimations and
predictions of the plan, which is fully developed and exemplified in the
new dispensation. But these were only shadows of Jesus Christ and him
crucified. When he appeared, and by his sufferings, as a substitute for
man, reconciled divine justice and mercy, and made a clear exposition of
the moral law, and a disclosure of a future state of retributions, a flood
of light was thrown upon God's moral character. Every cloud that had
rested upon it was cleared away, and immaculate holiness covered it with
unapproachable splendor. In short, the human mind is incapable of forming
a more correct estimate of moral excellence than is exhibited in the
scriptural plan of salvation. The more it is meditated upon, and the more
we experience its practical influence, the higher will be our conceptions
of the moral glory of the divine character; nor have we reason to suppose
that any further revelations would increase our apprehensions of it. For
benevolence, mercy, justice, and grace are here exhibited in unlimited,
that is, in infinite, glory and perfection, and therefore can never be
exceeded.

But though the exhibitions of the divine character and plans contained in
the Bible are thus perfect and excellent, they are not the only
exhibitions which the universe contains, and which man is capable of
understanding. _Lo, these are a part of his ways._ The Bible has left the
wonders of the natural world where it found them, to be examined and
developed by philosophy. Some have thought that it has anticipated a few
scientific discoveries; but if it had done this in one instance, it must
have carried the same plan through the whole circle of science; else how
could readers determine when the sacred writers were describing phenomena
according to appearances and general belief, and when according to real
scientific truth? But the fact is, scientific discoveries are left to
man's ingenuity; and as they are made from time to time, they bring out
new and splendid illustrations of the character and plans of Jehovah. Let
us now recur to some of these discoveries, that have opened the widest
vistas into the arcana of nature.

_The discoveries in modern astronomy constitute the fifth step in man's
knowledge of God._

In order to see how much man's conceptions of the universe have been
enlarged by these discoveries, compare the opinions which prevailed before
the introduction of the Copernican system with what is now certain
knowledge, founded upon physico-mathematics, respecting the extent of the
universe. Then this earth was thought to be the centre and the principal
body of the creation, immovably fixed, with the heavenly bodies, generally
thought to be of diminutive size, revolving around it every twenty-four
hours. The earth, too, except in the opinion of a few sagacious
philosophers, was not imagined to be that vast globe which we now
understand it to be, but a flat surface, perhaps a few hundred or
thousand miles in extent, bounded by a circle, and resting on an imaginary
foundation. The heavenly bodies were looked upon as little more than
shining points, or at most a few yards, or by the most daring fancies a
few miles, in extent. What a change have the telescope, the quadrant, and
the transit instrument, aided by profound mathematics, and the talismanic
power of the Newtonian theory of gravitation, produced! Every schoolboy
now knows that this globe, enormous though it be compared with what the
eye can take in from the loftiest eminence, is but a mere speck in
creation, and, with the exception of the moon, appearing from other worlds
only as one of the smallest stars in their heavens; so small that its
extinction would not be noticed. To the ignorant mind, distances and
magnitudes exceeding a hundred miles are conceived of only with great
difficulty. But the astronomer, when he conceives of magnitudes, must make
a thousand miles his shortest unit, and a million of miles when he
conceives of distances in the solar system. And when he attempts to go
beyond the sun and the planets, the shortest division on his measuring
line must be the diameter of the earth's orbit; and even then he will be
borne onward so far, not on the wings of imagination, but of mathematics,
that this enormous distance has vanished to a point. Even then he has only
reached the nearest fixed star, and, of course, has only just entered upon
the outer limit of creation. He must prepare himself for a still loftier
flight. He must give up the diameter of the earth's orbit as the unit of
his measurements, because too short, and take as his standard the passage
of light, at the rate of two hundred thousand miles per second. With that
speed can he go on, until his mind has reckoned up six thousand years of
seconds, and he will reach fixed stars whose light has not yet arrived at
the earth, because it did not commence its journey till the time of man's
creation.

But it is not merely in respect to distance and magnitude that astronomy
has enlarged our knowledge of the universe. Numerically it has opened a
field equally wide. Think of two thousand worlds rolling nightly around
us, visible to the naked eye. Take the telescope, and see those two
thousand multiply to fifty or one hundred millions, and then recollect how
very improbable it is that the keenest optics of earth can reach more than
an infinitesimal part of creation. Surely the mind is as much confounded
and lost, when it attempts to conceive of the number of the worlds in the
universe, as when it contemplates their distances and magnitudes. In
respect to number and distance, at least, we find no resting-place but in
infinity.

Now, when we turn our thoughts to the Author of such a universe, our
conceptions of his power, wisdom, and benevolence cannot but enlarge in
the same ratio as our views of his works. They must, therefore, experience
a prodigious expansion. And, indeed, the merest child in a Christian land,
in the nineteenth century, has a far wider and nobler conception of the
perfections of Jehovah than the wisest philosopher who lived before
astronomy had gone forth on her circumnavigation of the universe. From the
fact, also, which astronomy discloses, that worlds are in widely different
chemical and geological conditions, some gaseous and transparent, some
solid and opaque, and some liquid and incandescent, the mind can hardly
avoid the inference that they are fulfilling the vast and varied plans of
Jehovah.

_The sixth step in man's knowledge of Jehovah has been made by the
microscope._

To give any correct idea of the boundless field which that instrument has
opened into the infinitesimal parts of creation, it would be necessary to
go into details too extended for the present occasion. Perhaps the
animalcula or infusoria furnish the best example. "In the clearest
waters," says an able writer, "and also in the strongly-troubled acid and
salt fluids of the various zones of the earth; in springs, rivers, lakes,
and seas; in the internal moisture of living plants and animal bodies; and
probably, at times, carried about in the vapor and dust of the whole
atmosphere of the earth, exists a world, by the common senses of mankind
unperceived, of very minute living beings, which have been called, for the
last seventy years, _infusoria_. In the ordinary pursuits of life, this
mysterious and infinite kingdom of living creatures is passed by without
our knowledge of, or interest in, its wonders. But to the quiet observer
how astonishing do these become, when he brings to his aid those optical
powers by which his faculty of vision is so much strengthened! In every
drop of dirty, stagnant water, we are generally, if not always, able to
perceive, by means of the microscope, moving bodies, of from one eleven
hundred and fiftieth to one twenty-five thousandth of an inch in diameter,
and which often lie packed so closely together that the space between each
individual scarcely equals that of their diameter."--Prichard, _History of
Infusoria_, p. 2, 1841.

Again says he, "It is hardly conceivable that, within the narrow space,
[of a grain of mustard-seed,] eight millions of living, active creatures
can exist, all richly endowed with the organs and faculties of animal
life. Such, however, is the astonishing fact."--_Ib._ p. 3.

In short, whoever will thoroughly study this subject will be satisfied
that Dr. Ehrenberg does not exceed the truth when he asserts, as the
result of his inquiries, that "experience shows an unfathomableness of
organic creations, when attention is directed to the smallest space, as it
does of stars, when revealing the most immense."--_Prichard_, p. 8.

He who follows out the revelations of the telescope, as it penetrates
deeper and deeper into space, will feel, when he has seen the remotest
object which its power discloses, that there must certainly be a vast
unknown region beyond, infinitely exceeding that one over which he has
passed. Just so is it with the microscope. It penetrates to an astonishing
distance into the infinitesimal forms of organic and inorganic matter; but
every improvement in the instrument reaches a new and equally interesting
field; and the conclusion forces itself upon the mind that there are
regions beyond of indefinite extent, teeming with countless millions even
of organic beings, of a size much more diminutive than those yet
discovered, and with inorganic forms too minute for the imagination to
conceive. Indeed, we can no more set limits to creation in the direction
pointed out by the microscope than in that laid open by the telescope. We
hence get a most impressive conception of divine wisdom and benevolence,
which could thus bestow exquisite organization and life upon atoms minute
beyond the power of the imagination to conceive. Indeed, it seems to me
that the lesson is even more striking than the contemplation of vast
worlds in rapid and harmonious motion; because the latter seem to demand
only infinite power, but the former requires infinite wisdom to direct
infinite power.

_In the seventh and last place, geology has given great enlargement to our
knowledge of the divine plans and operations in the universe, and in the
following particulars_:--

1. It expands our ideas of the time in which the material universe has
been in existence as much as astronomy does in regard to its extent.

To those not familiar with the details of geology, this will probably seem
a startling and extravagant assertion. There has been, and still is, an
extreme sensitiveness in the minds of intelligent men on this subject. And
I highly respect the ground from which their apprehensions spring, viz., a
fear that to admit the great antiquity of the globe would bring discredit
upon revelation. And yet I believe the most candid and able theologians of
the present day do not fear that to admit the existence of the matter of
the world previous to the six days' work of creation, is inconsistent with
the Mosaic statement. But if we allow any period between its creation and
the six demiurgic days, it is no more derogatory to Scripture to make that
period ten millions of years than ten years. For if the sacred writer
would pass over ten years in silence, he could, with the same propriety,
pass over ten millions. Now, the longer I study geology, the nearer do my
ideas approximate to the latter number as a measure of the earth's
duration. Let us contemplate a few facts. We are able to trace the
geological changes that have taken place on the earth since man's
existence upon it with a good deal of accuracy. For since his remains are
found only in alluvium, we must regard all changes that took place
previous to the deposition of that formation to have been of an earlier
date than his creation. Now, what are the changes which the last six
thousand years have witnessed? In some places, the agency of rivers and
other causes have made an accumulation of alluvial matter to the depth of
not more than one or two hundred feet, although in particular places it is
several hundred feet. These deposits have been pushed forward at the
mouths of some large rivers, so as to cover hundreds, and even thousands,
of square miles. Oceanic currents have also made deposits in the bottom of
wide seas of considerable extent; and in some limited spots these
deposits have been consolidated into rock. The action of frost and
gravity, also, has crumbled from precipitous ledges angular fragments
enough to form a <DW72> of detritus sometimes a hundred feet high. The
polyparia, or coral builders, have advanced their work only a few feet in
thickness during this period, and soils have accumulated in some places
about as much. Volcanic action has occasionally thrown up a new island
from the ocean's bed; but only a few of them have been permanent. Some
tracts of country, in no case more than a few hundred miles in extent,
have, by the same agency, been raised a few feet, or sunk down the same
amount. But after all, the earth's surface remains essentially the same as
when man was placed upon it.

Now, compare these slight changes with those which have preceded it,
through the operation of the same agencies, since the first existence of
animals upon the globe. I will not contend, with some distinguished
geologists, that these same changes have always operated with the same
intensity as at present. But there are several circumstances which show
that the depositions from water could not have been essentially different
in ancient and modern times. Now, just compare six or eight miles in
thickness of the fossiliferous deposits of the previous periods with the
two hundred feet of alluvium accumulated during the historic period; and,
after you have made all reasonable allowance for the greater intensity of
action in former times, you will still find yourselves confounded by the
incalculable time requisite to pile up such an immense thickness of
materials, and then to harden most of them into stone; especially when you
call to mind the numerous changes of organic life, and the vast amount of
animal remains which they exhibit. A superficial observer might lump such
a work, and crowd it into a few thousand years. But the more its details
are studied, the longer does the period appear that is requisite for its
production. Each successive investigation discovers new evidence of
changes in composition, or organic contents, or of vertical movements
effected by extremely slow agencies, so as to make the whole work
immeasurably long.

But when we have gone back to the commencement of animal existence on the
globe, we have taken but one step in our review of its early history. The
next backward step embraces that wide period during which the stratified,
non-fossiliferous rocks--far thicker than the fossiliferous--were
deposited; probably by the agency of fire and water. Or if we adopt the
metamorphic theory of Mr. Lyell, we shall be still more deeply impressed
by the length of that period, during which these rocks were in a course of
deposition, consolidation, and metamorphosis. For he supposes them
originally deposited from water, just as mud, sand, and gravel now are
accumulating in the ocean's bed, and to have enveloped organic beings, as
similar materials now do. Next the whole were consolidated, so as to form
the exact prototype of the existing fossiliferous rocks; and finally it
underwent almost complete fusion, by the slow propagation of internal heat
upwards, until all the organic contents were obliterated, and a
crystalline structure was substituted. Nay, according to this theory,
other systems of rocks, of an analogous character, may have preceded the
present primary stratified ones, and have been at length entirely melted
into the unstratified; so that we cannot say when organic life first began
on the globe. But I will not press this theory, because most of the ablest
geologists reject it, at least in its full extent. And we have a period
long enough to confound the imagination, if we take the common view, which
supposes the non-fossiliferous rocks to have been deposited from water,
at a temperature too high to admit the existence of organic beings.

We have now gone back to that point in the earth's history when a crust
had begun to form over the shoreless ocean of melted matter, of which we
have reason to suppose it was then composed. Shall we attempt to trace
back that history any farther? The light does, indeed, grow dim, and the
clew more and more uncertain, the farther we recede along the track of the
earth's existence. Still there are some scattered rays that seem to recall
to us a condition of the earth still earlier than that in which it
constituted a molten globe. It may have been dissipated into vapor, like a
comet, or a nebula; and subsequently, by the slow radiation of its heat,
have been condensed into an opaque, though a melted, incandescent mass.
Several analogies certainly throw an air of plausibility over this
hypothesis. And if such was, indeed, the earliest condition of the earth,
the time requisite to condense it into melted matter must have been longer
than any other period of its history.

Who, now, at all familiar with the dynamics of geological agencies, shall
undertake to give an arithmetical expression to the periods that make up
the world's entire history? Not only does the reasoning faculty fail to
grasp the entire sum, but even imagination, as she flies backwards through
period after period, tires in the effort, and brings back not even a
conjectural result. The same feeling does, in fact, come over the mind,
which she experiences when astronomy has hurried her from world to world,
from sun to sun, from system to system, from nebula to nebula, and yet she
seems no nearer to the limits of creation than when she started. We know
certainly that there are limits; because matter cannot be infinite. But we
cannot conjecture where they are fixed. We know, also that there was a
time when this world did not exist, an epoch when its entire mass was
spoken into existence by the fiat of Jehovah; because the Bible expressly
declares it. But that epoch is unrevealed. If there is any truth in
geology, it was certainly more than six thousand years ago. Nay, that
science carries us as far back into the arcana of time as astronomy does
into the arcana of space. Neither the distance in the one case, nor the
duration in the other, can be estimated. But there is a sublime
inspiration in the effort to grasp the subject; and I see not why there is
not as much grandeur and high gratification in the idea of vast duration
as of vast expansion. And I see not why we do not gain as much enlargement
of our conceptions of the plans of Jehovah respecting the universe in the
one case as in the other. We cannot but infer, from the pre-Adamic state
of our world, that it must have subserved other purposes than to sustain
its present inhabitants.

2. In the second place, geology gives us impressive examples of the extent
of organic life on the globe since its creation.

I shall not contend, with some geologists, that even the primary
crystalline rocks may once have been filled with organic remains, which
have been obliterated by heat; and that, in this way, there may have been
a number of creations of organized beings on the globe, of which no trace
now remains. I take as the basis of my argument only the relics of animals
and plants actually found in the rocks. And when one sees mountain masses,
often of small shells, and spread over wide areas, he is amazed to learn
how prolific nature has been. What a countless number of vegetables, too,
must have been required to produce beds of coal from one to fifty feet
thick, and extending over thousands of square miles, and alternating
several times with sandstone in the same basin! There is reason to
believe, too, that the number of animals preserved in the strata bears
only a small proportion to those which have been utterly destroyed and
decomposed into their original elements. For example, in the sandstone
along Connecticut River, the tracks of more than forty species of bipeds
and quadrupeds have been found most distinctly marked. Some of these
bipeds must have been of colossal size--as much as twelve or fifteen feet
in height. And yet scarcely any other vestige of their existence has been
discovered. They were the giant rulers of that valley for centuries; but
they have all vanished. How numerous, then, may have been the softer
animals of the ancient world, which have not left even a footmark to
certify their existence to coming generations!

But the facts recently brought to light respecting infusoria and
polythalamia fill us with the greatest admiration of the extent of organic
life upon the globe. We have already seen that some of these animals are
so minute that eight millions of them are found in a space not larger than
a mustard-seed; and yet they had skeletons of silex, lime, and iron; and,
of course, these skeletons have been preserved; and, though of the
smallest size, it requires not less than forty-one billions to make a
single cubic inch; yet deposits of them, or of species not much larger,
occur, several feet in thickness, and extending over several square miles.
Nay, the chalk of Northern Europe, and also of Western Asia, where it
constitutes most of Mount Lebanon, and extends southerly through Palestine
into Arabia and Egypt, and also deposits in North and South America,
thousands of miles in extent,--this rock, I say, is nearly half composed
of microscopic shells. The oolite, also, contains them; and, indeed,
infusorial remains occur in flint and opal; and, as instruments and
observations are perfected, more and more of the solid rocks are found to
have once constituted the framework of animals. It is hardly to be doubted
that such was the fact with nearly all the limestone on the globe,
occupying at least a seventh part of its surface. In fact, we seem fast
coming to regard as sober truth the ancient adage, apparently so
extravagant--_Omnis calx e vermibus; omne ferrum e vermibus; omnis silex e
vermibus._ Indeed, it is the opinion of so competent a geologist as Dr.
Mantell that "probably there is not an atom of the solid materials of the
globe which has not passed through the complex and wonderful laboratory of
life."--_Wond. of Geology_, vol. ii. p. 670.--What a vast field here opens
before us to contemplate the far-reaching plans, the benevolence, and the
wisdom of the Deity!

In the third place, geology shows us that the present system of organic
life on the globe is but one link of a series, extending very far backward
and infinitely forward.

Revelation describes only the existing species, leaving to science the
task and the privilege to lift up the veil that hangs over the past, and
to disclose other economies that have passed away. How many of them have
existed we do not certainly know. If, with Agassiz, we characterize them
by their predominant tribes, we might say that all the period previous to
the new red sandstone constituted the reign of fishes; from thence to the
chalk, the reign of reptiles; from thence to the drift, the reign of
mammifera. But this is a less philosophical view than that of Deshayes,
who finds five great groups of animals, specifically independent of one
another. But who will attempt to fix the chronological limits of these
systems? We can only say that they must have been exceedingly long, if we
can place any dependence upon existing analogies; and we know that each
one of them is made up of numerous subdivisions, or minor groups, widely,
though not entirely, different in composition and organic contents. We
know that the more we examine the whole series, the deeper does our
conviction become that its commencement runs back far, very far, into the
depths of past eternity. We know, also, from the joint testimony of
Scripture and geology, that another change is to pass over the world, to
prepare it for inhabitants far more elevated than those now living upon
it, and in possession of perfect holiness and perfect happiness. And it
may be it will experience far greater changes, adapting it for higher and
higher grades of being, through periods of duration to which we can assign
no limits. O, what a vast chain of being is here spread out before the
imagination, reaching immeasurably far into the depths of the eternity
which is past, and into the eternity which is to come! What a field for
the display of God's infinite perfections! What a vista does it open to us
into the vast plans and purposes of Jehovah!

In the fourth place, geology reveals to us a curious series of
improvements in the condition of worlds, as they pass through successive
changes.

If the earth began its existence in the state of vapor, we can hardly
imagine it in that state capable of sustaining any organic natures, formed
upon the general type of those now existing. Nor, when the vapor was
condensed into a molten globe, could such natures inhabit it, till a crust
had formed over its surface, and the heat had been so reduced as not to
decompose animals and plants. Even then, the natures placed upon it must
have been of a peculiar and low type of organization, capable of enduring
the high temperature and catastrophes which would destroy those of more
delicate and complicated organization. But gradually did the temperature
diminish, while aqueous and atmospheric agencies were accumulating a
deeper and a richer soil, so that the next change of inhabitants would
allow natures of a higher organization and a denser population to occupy
the surface. Their remains, buried in the earth, would increase the
quantity of carbonate of lime in a form available for the use of animals
and plants; that is, lime would gradually be eliminated, by plants and
animals, from its more concealed combinations in the crystalline rocks,
and be converted into carbonates, sulphates, and humates. A larger amount
of organic matter would also be converted into humus. Now, limestone soils
are of all others most favorable to vegetation, when there is a sufficient
supply of organic matter. Hence every successive change becomes more and
more adapted for animals and plants, because the lime and the organic
matter in a state favorable for their support have been increasing; and
the present state of the surface is more favorable than any conditions
which have preceded it, and accordingly it is peopled with more perfect
and more numerous organic natures. Can we doubt but that, if another
change passes over the earth, this same great principle of progressive
improvement will be manifested in the renovated world? I am not prepared
to maintain, however, that this future change will be, like the past ones,
an improvement as to soil and climate; for the change, as Scripture
teaches, will be accomplished by fire; and so different will be the state
of existence in the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness, that we
cannot say how far the present system of nature will be introduced. But
that it will be an improved condition, we can hardly doubt, if we infer
any thing from the splendid figures by which it is described in the Bible,
and from the character of those who are to be its denizens.

Some of the facts of modern astronomy impress us with the idea that this
principle of progress may extend to other worlds. Some of these are in a
gaseous state, some condensed into fiery liquid globes, some covered with
a crust of solidified volcanic matter, and some surrounded by a liquid,
like water. Do not these facts justify the supposition, that the changes
which our earth has undergone are merely a single example of a great
principle in God's government of the natural world? If so, it presents the
divine wisdom in an interesting aspect. We see the Deity employing the
same matter for different purposes. Instead of creating it for one single
economy of organic beings, he seems to have made it the theatre for the
display of his benevolence through successive periods; but at the same
time not losing sight of the highest use he intended to make of it, by the
introduction of rational and immortal natures upon it. Human wisdom would
have pronounced this impossible; but divine wisdom, prompted by divine
benevolence, could accomplish it.

Finally, geology discloses to us chemical change as a great animating,
controlling, and conservative principle of the material universe.

When Newton brought to light the principle of gravitation, and showed how
it controls and keeps in harmonious movement the heavenly bodies, he
developed the great mechanical power by which the universe is governed.
And this power was supposed for a long time to be superior to all others.
But geology has brought out a second great controlling and conservative
agency,--the chemical power,--"the second right hand of the Creator," as
Dr. McCulloch expressively calls it. Suppose matter under the control of
gravity, and let it be balanced by a centrifugal force. You have, indeed,
harmonious motions among the celestial bodies, and, if no disturbing cause
come in, you have endless motion. But until you introduce chemical
agencies, every thing in the individual worlds would be compacted by
gravity into one dead mass of matter, destined to no resurrection. But let
chemical agencies leaven that mass, let affinity and cohesion commence
their segregating processes, and constant motion and change would follow,
with a thousand new and splendid forms. Especially when the Deity had
infused the living principle into portions of that matter, and put
chemistry, and her handmaid electricity, under the control of the vital
power, would these worlds teem with animation, and countless exhibitions
of beauty.

And in all known worlds, these chemical changes are at work unceasingly.
We know not whether those worlds are all inhabited, but we have evidence
that all are undergoing the transmutations of chemistry; not on their
surface merely, but in their deep interior. The consequence is, universal
change; change often upon a vast scale; change extending through thousands
and millions of years, and through the entire mass of immense worlds. We
have glanced, in these lectures, at the most important of those changes
which this world has undergone, and we have seen it to be almost
universal. We have found that the entire crust of the globe, many miles in
thickness, and probably to its centre, has been dissolved by heat, and
much of it also by water; that a large part of it, at least, has, by the
same chemistry, been made to constitute portions of the animal frame;
that, even now, much of its interior is held in igneous solution, and that
probably the time was when its entire mass was a molten, self-luminous
world. Indeed, the conjecture is not without some foundation, which
carries back this chemical action one step farther, and makes the world
originally a diffused mass of nebula.

At this point of the argument, geology appeals to astronomy, to show how
widely this principle of chemical change has operated, and still operates,
in the universe. We look first at the nebulae; for here we probably find
matter in its most chaotic and attenuated form, constituting
self-luminous, diffused masses of vapor. In some of them, however, that
matter has begun to condense, doubtless by the radiation of its heat. In
the comets, we find probably similar matter, some of it still farther
advanced in the process of condensation, so that perhaps a nearly solid
nucleus may exist. In the sun and fixed stars, the condensation has gone
on so far that cohesive attraction begins to operate, the latent heat of
the vapor is extricated, and melted luminous worlds are the result. Around
them, however, there probably still floats a wide atmosphere of the more
elastic materials, which the heat dissipates, of which the zodiacal light,
perhaps, furnishes us with an example. The nebulosity which surrounds the
asteroids, Ceres, Pallas, Juno, Vesta, and Astrea, renders it probable
that, though they have advanced so far in the process of refrigeration as
to become opaque, they may still retain heat enough to dissipate much of
their substance. Still farther advanced towards the condition of a
habitable world is the moon; and yet volcanic desolation covers its
surface. Not improbably Jupiter is nearly surrounded with a fluid like
water, and Saturn by a fluid lighter than water--being still farther
advanced towards the condition of the earth.

I acknowledge that these are but slight glimpses of the geology and
chemistry of other worlds. And yet, taken in connection with the
geological history of our own globe, do they not furnish us with some
extremely probable examples of those changes to which our earth has been
subject? They show us that worlds may exist in the form of vapor, and that
some are actually at this time in the various conditions through which
geology supposes this world to have passed. Do we not, in these examples,
gather strong intimations of a great law of chemical change in the
universe? Gaseous matter, so far as we know, appears to have been the
earliest state of the universe; and then, by the agency of heat, it passes
through the successive changes of liquid and solid, which have been
described.

The chemical changes that take place on the earth, under our immediate
cognizance, through the agency of water, usually proceed, under favorable
circumstances, in a cycle; that is, the substance, after passing through a
series of changes, returns at length into the same condition from which it
started. Thus aqueous vapor, by the loss of heat, is first converted into
water, next into ice, and then, by the access of heat, into water again,
and at last into vapor. The question naturally arises, whether those
mutations, through which worlds are passing, may not form a similar cycle.
We are able to trace them through several steps, from gaseous to liquid,
and from the liquid to the solid; and we are assured, on the testimony of
Scripture, that the next change of the earth will be from solid to liquid.
And in those stars which in past ages have suddenly broken forth with
remarkable splendor, and then disappeared, may we not have examples of
other worlds burnt up,--not annihilated,--but deluged by fire, and either
dissipated or again cooled? What changes, if any, will succeed the final
conflagration of the globe, neither science nor revelation informs us.

Yet, if the laws of nature respecting heat are not entirely altered, other
changes must follow; and we have seen, in a former lecture, that those
changes are perfectly consistent with our ideas of heaven, and that they
may, in fact, enhance the happiness of heaven. They may go on forever; in
which case, we can hardly doubt but they would form a cycle, though how
wide the circuit we cannot conjecture; or they may, at least, reach an
unchanging state. I confess, however, that the idea of perpetual change
corresponds best with the analogies of the existing universe; and in
eternity, as well as in time, it may form an essential element of
happiness.

In this world, too, this unceasing change, though it presents at first
view a strong tendency to ruin, is, in fact, the grand conservative
principle of material things. In a world of life and motion like ours, it
is impossible that bodies, especially organic bodies, should not be
sometimes subject to violent disarrangements and destruction from the
mechanical agencies which exist; and were no chemical changes possible,
ultimate and irremediable ruin must be the result. But the chemical
powers, inherent in matter, soon bring forth new forms of beauty from the
ruins; and, in fact, throughout all nature, the process of renovation
usually counterbalances that of destruction; and thus far, indeed, the
former has done more than this; for every time nature has changed her
dress in past ages, she has put on more lovely robes, and a fresher
countenance. Can we doubt that this same principle of change, operating,
as it does, on a stupendous scale through the universe, is one of the
great means of its preservation? It seems, indeed, paradoxical to say that
instability is the basis of stability. But I see not why it is not
literally true; and I can hardly doubt but this principle is superior to
the laws of gravity--superior to every other law, in fact, for giving
permanence and security to the universe.

It is true that, in the case of man, connected as diminution and decay are
with the curse denounced on sin, they assume, in his view, a melancholy
aspect; and the perishable nature of all created things has ever been
viewed by the sentimentalist with sad emotions.

  "What does not fade? The tower that long had stood
  The crush of thunder, and the warring winds,
  Shook by the slow but sure destroyer Time,
  Now hangs in doubtful ruins o'er its base;
  And flinty pyramids and walls of brass
  Descend; the Babylonian spires are sunk;
  Achaia, Rome, and Egypt moulder down.
  Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones;
  And tottering empires rush by their own weight.
  This huge rotundity we tread grows old,
  And all those worlds that roll around the sun.
  The sun himself shall die, and ancient night
  Again involve the desolate abyss."--_Akenside._

If we turn now our thoughts away from man's dissolution, and think how
speedily chemical power will raise nature out of her grave, in renovated
and increased beauty, this universal tendency to decay puts on the aspect
of a glorious transformation. We connect the changes around us with those
which have taken place in the great bodies of the universe; we see them
all to be but parts of a far-reaching plan of the Deity, by which the
stability of the world is maintained, and its progressive improvement
secured. When we look forward, fancy kindles at the developments of divine
power, wisdom, and benevolence which will in this manner be made in the
round of eternal ages. We see that what our ignorance had mistaken for a
defect in nature is, in fact, a great conservative principle of the
universe, which Newton did not discover because geology had not yet
unfolded her record.

Such are the developments of the divine character and plans unfolded to us
by geology. Compare them now with the views which have hitherto
prevailed. The common opinion has been, and still, indeed, is, that about
six thousand years ago this earth, and, in fact, the whole material
universe, were spoken into existence in a moment of time; and that, in a
few thousand more, they will, by a similar fiat, be swept from existence,
and be no more. On the other hand, geology places the time when the matter
of the universe was created out of nothing at an epoch indefinitely but
immensely remote. Since that epoch, this matter has passed through a
multitude of changes, and been the seat of numerous systems of organic
life, unlike one another, yet all linked together into one great system by
a most perfect unity; each minor system being most beautifully adapted to
its place in the great chain, and yet each successive link becoming more
and more perfect. Nor does geology admit that any evidence exists of the
future annihilation of the material universe; but rather of other changes,
by which new and brighter displays of divine wisdom and benevolence shall
be brought out, it may be in endless succession. Geology is not, indeed,
insensible to the displays of the divine character which are exhibited on
the present theatre of the world. Indeed, she distinctly recognizes the
act which is now passing as the most perfect of all. Yet this scene of the
great drama she regards as only one of the units of a similar series of
changes that have gone by or will hereafter come; the chain stretching so
far into the eternity that is past and the eternity that is to come, that
the extremities are lost to mortal vision.

Do any shrink back from these immense conclusions, because they so much
surpass the views they have been accustomed to entertain respecting the
beginning and the end of the material universe? But why should they be
unwilling to have geology liberalize their minds as much in respect to
duration as astronomy has done in respect to space? Perhaps it is a
lingering fear that the geological views conflict with revelation. Such
fears formerly kept back many from giving up their souls to the noble
truths of astronomy. But they learnt, at length, that astronomy merely
illustrates, and does not oppose, revelation. It showed men how to
understand certain passages of sacred writ respecting the earth and
heavenly bodies which they had before misinterpreted. Just so is it with
geology. There is no collision between its statements and revelation. It
only enables us more correctly to interpret some portions of the Bible;
and then, when we have admitted the new interpretation, it brings a flood
of light upon the plans and attributes of Jehovah. Geology, therefore,
should be viewed, as it really is, the auxiliary both of natural and
revealed religion. And when its religious relations are fully understood,
theology, I doubt not, will be as anxious to cultivate its alliance as she
has been fearful of it in days past.

"Shall it any longer be said," remarks Dr. Buckland, "that a science which
unfolds such abundant evidence of the being and attributes of God, can
reasonably be viewed in any other light than as the efficient auxiliary
and handmaid of religion? Some few there still may be whom timidity, or
prejudice, or want of opportunity, allow not to examine its evidence; who
are alarmed by the novelty, or surprised by the magnitude and extent, of
the views which geology forces on their attention; and who would rather
have kept closed the volume of witness which has been sealed up for ages
beneath the surface of the earth than to impose on the student in natural
theology the duty of studying its contents--a duty in which, for lack of
experience, they may anticipate a hazardous or laborious task, but which,
by those engaged in it, is found to be a rational, and righteous, and
delightful exercise of the highest faculties in multiplying the evidence
of the existence, and attributes, and providence of God. The alarm,
however, which was excited by the novelty of its first discoveries, has
well nigh passed away; and those to whom it has been permitted to be the
humble instruments of their promulgation, and who have steadily
persevered, under the firm conviction that 'truth can never be opposed to
truth,' and that the works of God, when rightly understood, and viewed in
their true relations, and from a right position, would at length be found
to be in perfect accordance with his word, are now receiving their high
reward in finding difficulties vanish, objections gradually withdrawn, and
in seeing the evidences of geology admitted into the list of witnesses to
the truth of the great fundamental doctrines of theology."--_Bridgewater
Treatise_, vol. i. p. 593.

Such, then, in conclusion of the subject, is the religion of geology. It
has been described as a region divided between the barren mountains of
scepticism and the putrid fens and quagmires of infidelity and atheism;
producing only a gloomy and a poisonous vegetation; covered with fogs, and
swept over by pestilential blasts. But this report was made by those who
saw it at a distance. We have found it to be a land abounding in rich
landscapes, warmed by a bright sun, blest with a balmy atmosphere, covered
by noble forests and sweet flowers, with fruits savory and healthful. We
have ascended its lofty mountains, and there have we been greeted with
prospects of surpassing loveliness and overwhelming sublimity. In short,
nowhere in the whole world of science do we find regions where more of the
Deity is seen in his works. To him whose heart is warmed by true piety,
and whose mind has broken the narrow shell of prejudice, and can grasp
noble thoughts, these are delightful fields through which to wander. More
and more they must become the favorite haunts of such hearts and such
minds. For there do views open upon the soul, respecting the character and
plans of the Deity, as large and refreshing as those which astronomy
presents. Nay, in their practical bearing, these views are far more
important. Mechanical philosophy introduces an unbending and unvarying law
between the Creator and his works; but geology unveils his providential
hand, cutting asunder that law at intervals, and planting the seeds of a
new economy upon a renovated world. We thus seem to be brought into near
communion with the infinite mind. We are prepared to listen to his voice
when it speaks in revelation. We recognize his guiding and sustaining
agency at every step of our pilgrimage. And we await in confident hope and
joyful anticipation those sublime manifestations of his character and
plans, and those higher enjoyments which will greet the pure soul in the
round of eternal ages.




LECTURE XIV.

SCIENTIFIC TRUTH, RIGHTLY UNDERSTOOD, IS RELIGIOUS TRUTH.


The connection between science and religion has ever been a subject of
deep interest to enlightened and reflecting minds. Too often, however, up
to the present time, has the theologian, on the one hand, looked with
jealousy upon science, fearful that its influence was hurtful to the cause
of true religion; while, on the other hand, the philosopher, in the pride
of a sceptical spirit, has scorned an alliance between science and
theology, and even fancied many a discrepancy. Both these opinions are
erroneous; and disastrously have they operated, as well upon science as
upon religion. The position which I take, and which I shall endeavor to
maintain, is, that _scientific truth, rightly understood, is religious
truth_.

The proposition may be misunderstood at its first announcement, but I
hope, ere its examination be finished, to satisfy you that it is true; and
if so, that it ought to reconcile religion to science, and science to
religion.

In arriving at correct conclusions concerning this statement, much will
depend on the meaning which we attach to the phrase _religious truth_.
Religion is properly defined to be piety towards God. This piety implies
two things: first, a correct knowledge of God; and secondly, the exercise
of proper affections in view of that knowledge. The former constitutes the
theoretic part of religion, and is investigated solely by the
understanding. The latter constitutes the practical part of religion, and
depends much upon the will, the heart, or the moral powers of man. All
truth, therefore, which illustrates the divine character or government, or
which tends to produce right affections towards God, is properly
denominated religious truth. If, then, I can show that all scientific
truth, rightly understood, has one or both of these effects, it will
follow that it is strictly religious truth.

Scientific truth is but another name for the laws of nature. And a law of
nature is merely the uniform mode in which the Deity operates in the
created universe. It follows, then, that science is only a history of the
divine operations in matter and mind.

In order to avoid mistake, we must make a distinction between the
principles of science, and the application of those principles to the
useful arts of life. The principles themselves are an illustration of the
divine wisdom and benevolence, but their application to the arts
illustrates the ingenuity and wisdom of man. At the most, therefore, the
latter only indirectly and remotely exhibits the character of the Deity,
while the former directly shows forth his perfections.

I now proceed to establish my general proposition, by showing, in the
first place, that _all scientific truth is adapted to prove the existence
or to illustrate the perfections of the Deity_.

After all that has been written on the subject of natural theology, by
such men as Newintyt, Ray, Derham, Wollaston, Clarke, Butler, Tucker,
Paley, Chalmers, Crombie, Brown, Brougham, Harris, M'Cosh, and the authors
of the Bridgewater Treatises, I need not surely go into details to prove
that science in general is a great storehouse of facts to illustrate the
divine perfections and government. It is, indeed, a vast repository, from
which materials have been drawn on which to build the argument for the
divine existence and character. Efforts have been made, it is true, in
modern times, to show that the whole argument from design is inconclusive.
It is said, that though the operations of nature seem to show design and
contrivance, they need no higher powers than those that exist in nature
itself. They do not prove the existence of an independent personal agent,
separate from the material world. Animals, and even plants, possess an
inherent power of adapting themselves to circumstances; and may not a
higher exercise of this same power explain all the operations of nature
without any other Deity?

This argument appears to me to be utterly set aside by the following
considerations: In the first place, there is no power inherent in
vegetable or animal natures which can properly be called the power of
contrivance and design, except so far as it exists in their minds. All
other examples show merely the operation of impulse, or instinct, and will
not at all explain that wide-reaching contrivance and design which cause
all the operations of nature to conspire to certain great results, and to
constitute one, and only one, great system. In the second place, the
operations of intellect furnish us with the only examples in nature of
that kind of contrivance and design which must have arranged and adapted
the parts of the universe. But in the third place, no intellect, within
our knowledge, is capacious enough to have contrived and arranged the
universe. Indeed, to the capacity of that mind which could have done this
we can assign no limits, and, therefore, infer it to be infinite. In other
words, we infer the existence of the Deity. In the fourth place, the whole
force of this argument rests upon the supposed uniformity of nature. For
no one imagines that there exists at present, in nature, any power of
contrivance and design sufficient to work a miracle; in other words, to
introduce new races of animals and plants. "Could this uniformity once be
broken up," says an ingenious expositor of this atheistic argument, "could
this rigid order be once infringed for a good and manifest reason, it
would change the whole face of the argument. Could we see the sun stand
still in heaven, that the wicked might be overthrown, then should we be
assured of a personal power with a distinct will, whose agents and
ministers these laws were. Such an event would be a miracle. But if such
events have happened, they are not a part of nature; it is not nature that
tells us of them, and it is only with her that we are at present
concerned."--_President Hopkins, Quarterly Observer_, Oct. 1833, p. 309.

Geology, however, does reveal to us miracles of stupendous, import,
miracles of creation, which infinite power and wisdom alone could have
produced. Hence, if the testimony of that science be admitted, this
reasoning can no longer stand the test of examination, and it must be
acknowledged that the argument for God's existence from design, which has
ever been so satisfactory to every mind not clouded by metaphysics, is
left standing on an immovable foundation.

To return to the point from which we started: it is not necessary, I say,
to go into a detailed examination of each particular science, and show how
its principles prove and illustrate the being and attributes of the Deity,
for the work has already been done more ably and thoroughly than I can do
it, and admitted by all, save the few who reject the argument from design
altogether. There are a few sciences, however, which have been hitherto
chiefly passed by, because they were not supposed capable of throwing any
light of consequence upon theology. Let us see whether these sciences are
as barren of religious interest as has been supposed.

Geology is a branch of knowledge, which, a few years ago, would have been
at once selected as not only destitute of any important religious
applications, but as of a positively injurious tendency; and even now,
such is the feeling probably of a majority of the religious world. True,
it touches religion, natural and revealed, at many points; but so novel
and startling are its conclusions, that they are thought to unsettle more
minds than they confirm. They fall in with many of the views of
scepticism, and especially confirm its doubts concerning the age of the
world, and compel the religious man to give up long-cherished opinions
upon this point, and on other collateral subjects. But we have gone into a
careful examination of the religious applications of this science, and
have we not found it most fertile in its illustrations both of natural and
revealed religion? Let us just recapitulate the conclusions at which we
have arrived.

In the first place, geology furnishes important illustrations of revealed
religion. It confirms the statement that the present continents of our
globe were once, and for an indefinite time, beneath the ocean, and that
they were subsequently lifted above the waters by internal agencies. It
agrees with revelation in making water and heat the two great agents of
geological change upon and within the earth, and that the work of
creation, after the production of matter, was progressive. It shows us
equally with revelation, that the existing races of animals and plants on
the globe were created at a comparatively recent epoch, and that man
commenced his existence not more than six thousand years ago. It shows us,
also, that the earth contains within itself the volcanic agency necessary
for its future destruction by combustion, as described in the Bible.

But, perhaps, the most important illustration of revealed truth, which
geology affords, is the light which it casts upon certain passages of the
Bible relating to the creation. As those texts which represent the earth
as immovable, and the heavenly bodies as moving diurnally around it, were
not rightly understood, until astronomy had discovered the true theory of
the solar system, so those passages which relate to the period of the
creation of the universe, the introduction of death into the world, and
the extent and operation of the deluge, were misinterpreted till geology
disclosed their true meaning. It is still customary, indeed, to speak of
geology and revelation as in collision with each other on these subjects;
but this is a false view of the case. Revelation is illustrated, not
opposed, by geology. Who thinks, at this day, of any discrepancy between
astronomy and revelation? And yet, two hundred years ago, the evidence of
such discrepancy was far more striking than any which can now be offered
to show geology at variance with the Scriptures. We ought, therefore, to
look upon that science as illustrating, instead of opposing, the
Scriptures.

Having once admitted the conclusions of geology as to the great age of the
world, and a flood of light is shed upon some of the most difficult points
both of natural and revealed religion. It shows the occurrence of numerous
changes on the globe which nothing but the power of God could have
produced, and which in fact were most striking and stupendous miracles.
Hence the arguments which have so long been employed to show that the
world is eternal are rendered nugatory; for if we can point to epochs when
entire races of animals and plants began to exist on the globe, we prove
the agency of a Deity quite as strikingly as if we could show the moment
when the matter of the world was summoned into existence out of nothing.
In the same manner, also, we silence the argument against the giving of a
revelation from heaven, as well as the miracles by which it is
substantiated, on the ground that we have no example of a special
interference with the established course of nature. Here we have
interpositions long anterior to man's existence, as well as by his
creation, which take away all improbability from those which are implied
in a revelation. We hence likewise establish the doctrine of a special
providence over the world--a doctrine proved with great difficulty by any
other reasoning of natural theology.

Still more abundant is the evidence derived from geology of the divine
benevolence. And this evidence comes mostly from the operations and final
effect of the most desolating agencies, heretofore regarded as a proof of
malevolence, or, at least, of vindictive justice; and we may reasonably
infer, that could we look through the whole system of divine government,
we should find that all evil is only a necessary means of the greatest
good.

No one can examine existing nature without being convinced that all its
parts and operations belong to one great system. Geology makes other
economies of wide extent to pass before us, opening a vista indefinitely
backward into the hoary past; and it is gratifying to witness that same
unity of design pervading all preceding periods of the world's history,
linking the whole into one mighty scheme, worthy its infinite Contriver.

How much, also, does this science enlarge our conceptions of the plans and
operations of Jehovah! We had been accustomed to limit our views of the
creative agency of God to the few thousand years of man's existence, and
to anticipate the destruction of the material universe in a few thousand
years more. But geology makes the period of man's existence on the globe
only one short link of a chain of revolutions which preceded his
existence, and which reaches forward immeasurably far into the future. We
see the same matter in the hands of infinite wisdom, and by means of the
great conservative principle of chemical change, passing through a
multitude of stupendous revolutions, sustaining countless and varied forms
of organic life, and presenting an almost illimitable panorama of the
plans of an infinite God.

If such is the fruit which geology pours into the lap of religion, how
misunderstood have been its principles! In many a mind there is still an
anxious fear lest its discoveries should prove unfavorable to religion;
and they would feel greatly relieved could they only be assured that no
influence injurious to piety would emanate from that science. But we can
give them far more than this assurance. We can draw from this science more
to illustrate and confirm religion than from any other; and we believe
that the history of the past justifies the general conclusion, that those
sciences whose early developments excited most apprehensions of a
collision with religion, have ultimately furnished the most abundant
illustrations of its principles.

Another science regarded as barren of religious applications, and even as
sometimes positively injurious, is mathematics. Its principles are,
indeed, of so abstruse a nature, that it is not easy to frame out of them
a religious argument that is capable of popular illustration. But, in
fact, mathematical laws form the basis of nearly all the operations of
nature. They constitute, as it were, the very framework of the material
world. When we look up to the heavenly bodies, we see them directed and
controlled, along with the earth, by those laws, which vary not, by an
iota, from century to century. The infinity of changes, which are going on
in the constitution of bodies upon and within the earth, chemistry
reduces to mathematical laws. So far as organic operations depend upon
chemical changes,--and this is very far,--mathematics is the controlling
power. I will not say, that life and intellect are in a strict sense under
the guidance of mathematics; and yet I doubt not that their operations are
limited and controlled by its principles. Confident am I that atmospheric
changes, apparently quite as anomalous and irregular as the movements of
the vital and intellectual principles, rest on mathematics as certainly as
do the revolutions of the heavenly bodies.

It seems, then, that this science forms the very foundation of all
arguments for Theism, from the arrangements and operations of the material
universe. We do, indeed, neglect the foundation, and point only to the
superstructure, when we state these arguments. But suppose mathematical
laws to be at once struck from existence, and what a hideous chaos would
the universe present! What then would become of the marks of design and
unity in nature, and of the Theist's argument for the being of a God?

But mathematical principles furnish several interesting illustrations of
truth, of no small importance. In a former lecture, we have seen how the
doctrine of miracles stands forth completely vindicated by an appeal to
mathematical laws; how, in fact, they might have formed a part of the
original plan of the universe, when first it was conceived in the divine
mind, and how their occurrence may be as much the result of a fixed law as
the most common operations of nature; so that in this way all
improbability of their occurrence, on the ground that nature is constant,
is removed. These views are illustrated in that singular, yet original
work of Professor Babbage, called the "Ninth Bridgewater Treatise," a work
written, it is true, in part, under the influence of exasperated feelings,
but yet full of original and ingenious suggestions. But these views have
been so fully presented in the Lecture on Special and Miraculous
Providence, and in that upon the Telegraphic System of the Universe, that
they need not here be repeated.

Mathematics, also, aids our conceptions of truths of religion difficult or
impossible, from their nature, of being understood by finite beings. All
the attributes of the Deity, being infinite, are of this description. But
it seems to me that the contemplation of a mathematical series, either
increasing or decreasing, gives us the strongest apprehension of infinity
which we can attain. It puts into our hands a thread by which we can find
our way, as far as our powers will carry us, towards infinity. True, after
we have followed the series till the mind stops exhausted, we are no
nearer infinity than when we started; yet we do get most deeply impressed
with the unfathomableness of the abyss that separates the finite from the
infinite.

To many minds all statements of the biblical doctrine of the Trinity
appear so absurd and contradictory as to be incapable of belief. Yet let
it be stated to a man, for the first time, that two lines may approach
each other forever without meeting, and it must appear equally absurd. But
after you have demonstrated to him the properties of the hyperbola and its
asymptote, the apparent absurdity vanishes. So, when the theologian has
stated, that by the divine unity he means only a numerical unity,--in
other words, that there is but one Supreme Being, and that the three
persons of the Godhead are one in this sense, and three only in those
respects not inconsistent with this unity,--every philosophical mind,
whether it admits that the Scriptures teach this doctrine or not, must see
that there is no absurdity or contradiction in it. And thus it may happen,
that the solution of a man's difficulties on this subject may come from a
proposition of conic sections, as in fact we know to have been the case.

It is said, however, that mathematicians have been unusually prone to
scepticism concerning religious truth. If it be so, it probably originates
from the absurd attempt to apply mathematical reasoning to moral subjects;
or, rather, the devotees of this science often become so attached to its
demonstrations, that they will not admit any evidence of a less certain
character. They do not realize the total difference between moral and
mathematical reasonings, and absurdly endeavor to stretch religion on the
Procrustean bed of mathematics. No wonder they become sceptics. But the
fault is in themselves, not in this science, whose natural tendencies,
upon a pure and exalted mind, are favorable to religion, because its
principles illustrate religion.

There are several other sciences, whose earlier developments were supposed
for a time to be unfavorable to religion; and hence has originated a
ground of apprehension respecting science generally. When the Copernican
system of astronomy was introduced, it was thought impossible ever to
reconcile it to the plain declarations of Scripture; and hence at least
one venerable astronomer was obliged to recant that system upon his knees.
Similar fears of collision between science and revelation were excited
when chemistry announced that the main part of the earth has already been
oxidized, and, therefore, could not hereafter be literally burnt. Because
some physiologists have been materialists, it has been inferred that
physiology was favorable to materialism. But it is now found that they
were materialists in spite of physiology, rather than from a correct
interpretation of its facts.

Strong apprehensions have also been excited respecting phrenology and
mesmerism. And, indeed, in their present aspect, these sciences are
probably made to exert a more unfriendly influence upon vital religion
than any other. Those who profess to understand and teach them have been,
for the most part, decided opponents of special providence and special
grace, and many of them materialists. But this is not because there are
any special grounds for such opinions in phrenology or mesmerism. The
latter branch, indeed, affords such decided proofs of immaterialism, as to
have led several able materialists to change their views. Nor does
phrenology afford any stronger proof that law governs the natural world,
than do the other sciences. But when a man who is sceptical becomes deeply
interested in any branch of knowledge, and fancies himself to be an oracle
respecting it, he will torture its principles till they are made to give
testimony in favor of his previous sceptical views, although, in fact, the
tones are as unnatural as those of ventriloquism, and as deceptive. When
true philosophy shall at length determine what are the genuine principles
of phrenology and mesmerism, we can judge of their bearing upon religion;
but the history of other sciences shows us that we need have no fears of
any collision, when the whole subject is brought fairly into the daylight.

Upon the whole, every part of science, which has been supposed, by the
fears of friends or malice of foes, to conflict with religion, has been
found, at length, when fully understood, to be in perfect harmony with its
principles, and even to illustrate them. It is high time, therefore, for
the friends of religion to cease fearing any injury to the cause of
religion from science; and high time, also, for the enemies of religion to
cease expecting any such collision.

In conclusion of this argument, we may safely challenge any one to point
out a single principle of science which does not in some way illustrate
the perfections of the Deity; and if he cannot, scientific truth may be
appropriately called religious truth, especially since such illustrations
are the highest use to which science can be applied. It is no drawback on
the argument because so few make this use of science, nor because some
attempt to array science against religion; for this only shows how men may
neglect the most important use to which science can be applied, or how
they can pervert the richest gifts.

I derive a second argument in support of the general position, that
scientific truth is religious truth, from the fact that _it will survive
the present world, and its examination become a part of the employments
and enjoyments of heaven_.

The Scriptures are, indeed, sparing in their details of the specific
employments of the heavenly world, except so far as worship and praise are
concerned. But that worship will undoubtedly be the spontaneous impulse of
the heart, (as it is in this world when acceptable,) in view of some
manifestations of the divine character. Accordingly, the first sentence of
the future song of Moses and the Lamb, as the saints stand with the harps
of God upon the sea of glass, is, _Great and marvellous are thy works,
Lord God Almighty._ The works of God, then, will be studied in the future
world; and what is that but the study of the sciences? It is, indeed, said
by the apostle, that _whether there be tongues, they shall cease_, [that
is, in a future world;] _whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish
away_; and hence it has sometimes been inferred that all the knowledge
which we acquire in this world will disappear with this world. But this
cannot be the meaning of the passage, for in a variety of places the Bible
represents both the righteous and wicked in another world as conscious of
what took place on earth; and, unless the nature of the mind be changed
at death, it is not possible to conceive that the knowledge we acquire
here should be lost. This passage may refer to one of those gifts of
inspiration peculiar to apostolic times, called by the sacred writer _the
word of knowledge_. But more probably he meant to teach that, so much
brighter and clearer will be the disclosures of another world, that most
of our present knowledge will be eclipsed and forgotten. But this does not
imply that our future knowledge will be essentially different in nature
from that which we acquire on earth. The grand difference is, that now _we
see through a glass darkly, but then face to face_.

We can, also, see why some branches of science cultivated on earth should
be very much modified in a future world. There are several, for instance,
dependent mainly upon the present organic constitution of nature; and of
such branches only the general principles can survive the destruction of
the existing framework of animals and plants. Take, for an example,
anatomy and physiology. We believe, indeed, that the new earth, wherein
dwelleth righteousness, will be material, and that the bodies of men will
also be material. But even though these bodies should be organized, we
learn from the Scriptures that this organization will be very different
from our present bodies. _They_, says Christ, _who shall be accounted
worthy to obtain that world, and the resurrection from the dead, neither
marry nor are given in marriage, neither can they die any more; for they
are equal unto the angels._ Paul's vivid description of the future
spiritual body leaves the impression on the mind that it must be very
dissimilar to our present bodies. He does not attempt to define the
spiritual body, probably because we could not understand the definition,
since it would be so unlike any thing on earth. He represents it as
incorruptible, powerful, and glorious, entirely in contrast with our
present bodies, and declares that it is not flesh and blood, and that it
is not organized like our present bodies.

It seems, then, that we have no certain evidence that the future spiritual
body will be organized; and in a former lecture we have seen that it is
not necessary to suppose it endowed with organs. If not, it is obvious
that the sciences of anatomy and physiology can have no existence in a
future world, except in the memory. On the other hand, however, there are
some things in Paul's description of the future body that make it quite
probable that its organization will be much more exquisite than any thing
in existence on earth. He represents it as springing from our present
bodies as a germ from a seed; and this would seem to imply organization;
though we must not infer too much from a mere rhetorical similitude. But
he also represents the spiritual body as far transcending the natural body
in glory and in power; and, since the latter is fearfully and wonderfully
made, we know of nothing but the most exquisite organization that can give
the spiritual body such a superiority over the natural. Admitting that
such will be its structure, and, although the nomenclature of anatomy and
physiology, which is adapted to flesh and blood, shall pass away and be
forgotten, yet analogous sciences shall be substituted, based on facts and
principles far more interesting, and developing relations and harmonies
far more beautiful. It may be thought, indeed, that, so different will be
these sciences from any thing on earth, that there can be no common
principles and no link of connection. But the longer a man studies the
works of God, the more inclined will he be to regard the universe,
material and immaterial, as founded on eternal principles; as, in fact, a
transcript of the divine nature; and that all the changes in nature are
only new developments of unchanging fundamental laws, not the introduction
of new laws. Hence the philosopher would infer that in existing nature we
have the prototype of new heavens and a new earth; and although a future
condition of things may be as different from the present as the plant is
from the seed out of which it springs, still, as the seed contains the
embryo of a future plant, so the future world may, as it were, lie coiled
up in the present. If in these suggestions there is any truth, there may
be a germ in the anatomy and physiology of the present world, which shall
survive the destruction of the present economy, and unfold, in far higher
beauty and glory, in the more congenial climate of the new heavens and the
new earth. If so, the great principles of these sciences which are
acquired on earth, and which are so prolific in exhibitions of divine
skill, may not prove to be lost knowledge. They shall be recognized as
types of those far higher and richer developments of organization which
the spiritual body shall exhibit.

It may be still more difficult to show that such a science as botany will
have a place in the new earth; simply because we have no certain knowledge
of the existence of vegetation there. We can infer nothing on this subject
from the figurative representations of the new Jerusalem in Revelation,
since the drapery is all derived from this world. But, on the general
principle already stated, that the universe constitutes but one vast and
harmonious system, and all the economies upon it, past, present, and
future, are only different developments of eternal principles, this
consideration, I say, should make us hesitate before we infer the
annihilation of the vast vegetable kingdom upon the destruction of the
present economy of the world. And it does give us an aspect of extreme
barrenness and cheerlessness to think of the new earth entirely swept of
every thing analogous to the existing foliage, flowers, and fruits. We
have attempted to show, however, in another place, that the spiritual body
may be of such a nature that it might exist in a temperature so high, or
so low, as to prevent the existence of such organic natures as now exist.
But how easy for the Deity to create such natures as are adapted to
extremes of temperature as wide as we now are acquainted with; and that,
too, on the same type as existing nature; so that the new earth, while yet
an incandescent, glowing ocean, might teem with animals and plants,
organized on the same general principles as those of the present earth!
But there is another supposition. I have endeavored to show that change
ever has been, and probably ever will be, one of the grand means by which
mind is introduced to higher spheres of enjoyment; and even though the new
earth at first should be destitute of organic natures, both animal and
vegetable, they might be introduced in successive and more perfect
economies, as a means of increased happiness, especially to rational
natures. These are, indeed, only conjectures; but the balance of
probabilities seems to me to incline the mind to the belief that there may
be a botany as well as zoology in the future world, far transcending their
prototypes on earth.

Among the things that we may be certain will pass away with the present
world is the mode of communicating our ideas by language. This the apostle
expressly declares when he says, _Whether there be tongues_, [that is,
languages,] _they shall cease._ Now, the acquisition of languages, and the
right use of language, or rhetoric and oratory, constitute a large part of
what men call learning on earth. And the question is, whether there are
any principles on which these branches of knowledge are based that will
become the elements of new and higher modes of communicating thought in a
future world. These branches are, indeed, rather to be regarded as arts
than sciences. Language is the drapery for clothing our thoughts, and,
unless we have thoughts to clothe, it becomes useless; and rhetoric and
oratory merely show us how to arrange that drapery in the most attractive
and impressive style. But there is such a thing as the philosophy of
language and the philosophy of rhetoric, whose principles are derived
chiefly from moral and intellectual philosophy. And these, we have reason
to believe, are eternal. Different as will be the mode of communicating
thoughts hereafter from the present, we shall find the same philosophical
principles lying at its foundation. Hence we may expect that there will be
a celestial language, a celestial rhetoric, and a celestial oratory, in
whose beauty and splendor those of earth will be forgotten.

I now proceed briefly to consider those sciences which, having little
connection with material organization, we may more confidently maintain
will have an existence on the new earth.

It will be hardly necessary to spend much time in proving that
intellectual philosophy will be one of the subjects of investigation in a
future world. For it would be strange if the noblest part of God's
workmanship, for which materialism was created, should cease to be an
object of inquiry in that world where alone it can be investigated with
much success. When we consider that the whole train of mental phenomena is
constantly passing under the mind's own observation, and that a vast
amount of time and talent has been devoted to the subject ever since man
began to philosophize,--that is, for more than two thousand years,--it
would seem as if psychology ere this must have attained the precision and
certainty of mathematics. But how different is the fact! I speak not of a
want of agreement in opinion on subordinate points, for these minor
diversities must be expected in any science not strictly demonstrative.
Even astronomy abounds with them. But metaphysical philosophers have not
yet been able to settle fundamental principles. They are not yet agreed as
to the existence of many of the most familiar and important intellectual
powers and principles of action. The systems of Locke and Hume,
constructed with great ability, were overthrown by Reid; Stewart differed
much from Reid; and Dr. Thomas Brown has powerfully attacked the fabric
erected by Stewart. And lastly, the phrenologists, with no mean ability,
have endeavored to show that all these philosophers are heaven-wide of the
truth, because they have so much neglected the influence of the material
organs on the mental powers. Now, this diversity of result, arrived at by
men of such profound abilities, shows that there are peculiar difficulties
in the study of mind, originating, probably, in the fact that, in this
world, we never see the operation of mind apart from a gross material
organization. But in another state, where no organization will exist, or
one far better adapted to mental operations, we may hope for such a
clarification of the mental eye that the laws of mind will assume the
precision and certainty of mathematics, and the relations between mind and
matter, now so obscure, be fully developed. Then, I doubt not, the
principles of mental science will furnish a more splendid illustration of
the divine perfections than any which can now be derived from the material
world.

Will any one believe that the principles of moral science and mathematics
will be altered or annihilated by the conflagration of the globe? We
believe them no more dependent upon the external universe than is the
divine existence. God exists by a necessity of nature, and these
principles have the same unchanging and eternal origin. If so, no changes
in the material world can affect them. So far as we understand them here,
we shall find them true hereafter; and we shall doubtless find that our
present knowledge is but the mere twilight of that bright day which will
there pour its full light upon these subjects. Mathematical and moral
truths, which we now suppose to be general laws, we shalt then find to be,
in many cases, only the ramifications of principles far wider, which we
cannot now discover, and which we could not comprehend were they open to
inspection. And we shall also find that moral laws are as certain and
demonstrable as those of mathematics; and that they form the adamantine
chain which holds together the spiritual world, and gives it symmetry and
beauty, as mathematics links together the material universe.

Among men who understand biblical interpretation, and also the principles
of science, the belief in the annihilation of the material universe at the
close of man's probationary state is fast disappearing, and the more
scriptural, philosophical, and animating doctrine is embraced, that there
will be only a change of form and condition of our earth and its
atmosphere, and that the matter of the universe will survive, and
successively assume new and more beautiful forms, it may be eternally. If
so, all those physical sciences, which do not depend upon organic
structure, will form subjects of investigation in the heavenly world.
There will be the heavenly bodies, governed by the same laws as at
present, and offering a noble field for examination. Nor will the heavenly
inhabitants need, as on earth, visual organs and optical instruments,
which, at best, afford us only glimpses of the material universe. For
there, if we rightly conjecture, will they possess the power of learning,
with almost intuitive certainty and intuitive rapidity, the character and
movements of the most distant worlds. Nay, it may be that they can pass
from world to world with the velocity of light, and thus become better
acquainted with their more intimate condition. Thus will the astronomy of
the celestial world surpass, beyond conception, that science which even
now is regarded as unequalled for its sublimity.

We cannot be sure through what material medium the mind will act in a
future world. But the manner in which we know heat, light, and electricity
to be transmitted, makes it not impossible that the same or a similar
medium may be the vehicle through which thought shall be hereafter
transmitted. If so, we can easily understand how the mind will be able to
penetrate into the most recondite nature of bodies, and learn the mode in
which they act upon one another; for the curious medium which conveys
light and heat does penetrate all bodies, whether they be solid or
gaseous, cold or hot. Hence we may learn at a glance, in a future world,
more of the internal constitution of bodies, and of their mutual action,
than a whole life on earth, spent in the study of chemistry, will unfold.
Then, too, shall we doubtless find chemical laws operating on a scale of
grandeur and extent, limited only by the material universe.

Universally diffused as light, heat, and electricity are, and diligently
as their phenomena have been studied, yet what mystery hangs over their
nature and operations! They seem to be too subtile, and to approximate too
nearly to immaterial substances, to be apprehended by our beclouded
intellects. When, therefore, our means of perception shall be vastly
improved, as we have reason to believe they will be in eternity, these
will become noble themes for examination. For who can doubt that agents so
ethereal in their nature, and apparently indestructible, and even
unchanged by any means with which we are acquainted, will survive the
final catastrophe of our world? Probably, indeed, we are allowed to catch
only glimpses of their nature and operations on earth, so that we may
safely anticipate an immense expansion of the electricity and optics which
will form a part of the science of heaven.

We have endeavored to show, in a former lecture, that the future residence
of the righteous will be material; that it will, in fact, be the present
earth, purified by the fires of the last day, and rising from the final
ruin in renovated splendor. We have shown that this is the doctrine of
Scripture, of philosophy, and of a majority of the Christian church. A
solid world, then, will exist, whose geology can be studied by glorified
minds far more accurately and successfully than the globe which we
inhabit; for those minds will doubtless be able to penetrate the entire
mass of the globe, and learn its whole structure. The final conflagration
may, indeed, for the most part, obliterate the traces of present and past
organic beings. But according to the doctrine of action and reaction in
mechanics, in chemistry, in electricity, and in organization, every change
that has ever passed over the earth has left traces of its occurrence
which can never be blotted out; and it is not improbable that glorified
minds will possess the power of discovering and reading these records of
the past, if not on the principle just specified, yet in some other way;
so that the entire geological history of our planet will probably pass in
clear light before them. Points which we see only through a glass darkly
will then stand forth in full daylight; and from the glimpses we are able
to obtain in this world of its present geological changes, what a mighty
and interesting series will be seen by celestial minds! If, even by the
 rays which come upon us through the twilight of this world, we
are able to see so many striking illustrations of the divine character
engraven on the solid rocks, what a noble volume of religious truth shall
be found written there, when the light of heaven shall penetrate the
earth's deep foundations! Those foundations, figuratively described in
revelation as so many precious stones, bearing up a city of pure gold,
clear as glass, will then reflect a richer light than the costliest
literal gems which the rocks now yield. The geology of heaven will be
resplendent with divine glory.

We see, then, with a few probable exceptions, resulting from a difference
between the organism of heaven and earth, that science will survive the
ruin of this world, and in a nobler form engage the minds, and interest
the hearts, of heaven's inhabitants. It will, indeed, form a vast
storehouse, whence pious minds can draw fuel to kindle into a purer and
brighter flame their love and their devotion; for thence will they derive
new and higher developments of the divine character. Shall we not, then,
admit that to be religious truth on earth which in heaven will form the
food of perfectly holy minds?

The position which I laid down, at the outset, that scientific truth,
rightly applied, is religious truth, seems to me most clearly established.
If admitted, there flow from it several inferences of no small interest,
which I am constrained to present to your consideration.

_In the first place, I infer from this discussion that the principles of
science are a transcript of the Divine Character._

I mean by this, that the laws of nature, which are synonymous with the
principles of science, are not the result of any arbitrary and special
enactment on the part of the Deity, but flow naturally from his
perfections; so that, in fact, the varied principles of science are but so
many expressions of the perfections of Jehovah. If the universe had only a
transient existence, we might suppose the laws that govern it to be the
result of a special ordination of the Deity, and destined to perish with
the annihilation of matter. But since we have no evidence that matter will
ever perish, and at least probable evidence that it will exist forever,
the more rational supposition is, that its laws result from the nature of
things, and are only a development of so many features of the divine
character. If so, then the most important inquiry in the study of the
sciences is to learn from them the phases in which they present the divine
perfections.

_In the second place, it does not follow from this subject that the most
extensive acquisitions in science necessarily imply the possession of true
piety._

Piety consists in the exercise of right affections of heart towards God,
excited by religious truth. Now, I have attempted to show only, that the
natural tendency of scientific truth is to excite such religious
affections; but that tendency, like all other good influences, may be, and
often is, resisted. Hence a man may reach the loftiest pinnacle of
scientific glory whose heart has never heaved with one religious emotion.
He may penetrate to the very holy of holies in nature's temple, and yet
retain his atheism, in spite of the hallowed influences that surround him.
Nothing is plainer in theory, and, alas! nothing has been more surely
confirmed by experience, than that the possession of science is not the
possession of religion.

_In the third place, what a perversion of science it is to employ it
against religion!_

Rightly understood, and fairly interpreted, there is not a single
scientific truth that does not harmoniously accord with revealed as well
as natural religion; and yet, by superficial minds, almost every one of
these principles has, at one time or another, been regarded as in
collision with religion, and especially with revelation. One after another
have these apparent discrepancies melted away before the clearer light of
further examination. And yet, up to the present day, not a few, closing
their eyes against the lessons of experience, still fancy that the
responses of science are not in unison with those from revelation. But
this is a sentiment which finds no place with the profound and
unprejudiced philosopher; for he has seen too much of the harmony between
the works and the word of God to doubt the identity of their origin. He
knows it to be a sad perversion of scientific truth to use it for the
discredit of religion. He knows that the inspiration of the Almighty
breathed the same spirit into science as into religion; and if they utter
discordant tones, it must be because one or the other has been forced to
speak in an unnatural dialect.

_In the fourth place, how entirely have the natural tendencies of science
been misunderstood, when they have been represented as leading to
religious scepticism!_

I do not deny the fact that many scientific men have been sceptical. But I
maintain that this has been in spite of science, rather than the result of
its natural tendency; for we have shown that tendency in all cases to be
favorable to piety. Other more powerful causes, therefore, must have
operated to counteract the natural influence of scientific truth in those
cases where men eminent for science have spurned away from them the
authority of religion. Among these causes, the pride of knowledge is one
of the most powerful; and before the mind has attained to very profound
views of science, this pride does often exert a most disastrous influence
upon a man's religious feelings.

He is looked up to as an oracle on other subjects, and why should he not
be equally wise concerning religion? It is natural for him to feel
desirous, in such circumstances, of rising above all vulgar and
superstitious views, and of convincing his fellow-men that he has made as
great discoveries in religion as in science. He, therefore, calls in
question the prevailing religious opinions. Having once taken his stand
against the truth, pride does not allow him to recede, and he endeavors to
convert scientific truth into weapons against religion. And this
perversion produces the impression, with those not familiar with its
natural tendency, that science fosters scepticism.

Another cause of this scepticism is a superficial acquaintance with the
religious bearings of scientific truth. It is one thing to master the
principles of science in an abstract form, and quite a different thing to
understand their religious bearings. Moral reasoning is so different from
physical and mathematical, that often a mind which is a prodigy for the
latter, is a mere Lilliput in the former. And yet that mind may fancy
itself as profound in the one as in the other, and may, therefore, be as
tenacious of its errors in religion as of its demonstrated verities in
science.

In the following extract it will be seen that Dr. Chalmers imputes the
religious scepticism connected with science chiefly to a superficial
acquaintance with science. His remarks may seem unreasonably severe and
sweeping; nevertheless, they deserve consideration. And they accord with
the idea of Lord Bacon, who says, "A smattering of philosophy leads to
atheism; whereas a thorough acquaintance with it brings him back again to
religion." "We have heard," Dr. Chalmers remarks, "that the study of
natural science disposes to infidelity. But we feel persuaded that this is
a danger associated only with a slight and partial, never with a deep,
and adequate, and comprehensive, view of its principles. It is very
possible that the conjunction between science and scepticism may at
present be more frequently realized than in former days; but this is only
because, in spite of all that is alleged about this our more enlightened
day and more enlightened public, our science is neither so deeply founded,
nor of such firm and thorough staple, as it was wont to be. We have lost
in depth what we have gained in diffusion; having neither the massive
erudition, nor the gigantic scholarship, nor the profound and well-laid
philosophy of a period that has now gone by; and it is to this that
Infidelity stands indebted for her triumphs among the scoffers and
superficialists of a half-learned generation."--_Chalmers's Works_, vol.
vii. p. 262.

Briefly, but nobly, has Sir John Herschel vindicated science from the
charge of sceptical tendencies. "Nothing can be more unfounded than the
objection which has been taken _in limine_ by persons, well meaning,
perhaps, certainly of narrow minds, against the study of natural
philosophy, and, indeed, against all science, that it fosters in its
cultivators an undue and overweening self-conceit, leads them to doubt the
immortality of the soul, and to scoff at revealed religion. Its natural
effect, we may confidently assert, on every well-constituted mind, is and
must be the direct contrary. No doubt the testimony of natural reason, on
whatever exercised, must, of course, stop short of those truths which it
is the object of revelation to make known; but while it places the
existence and principal attributes of a Deity on such grounds as to render
doubt absurd, and atheism ridiculous, it unquestionably opposes no natural
or necessary obstacle to further progress; on the contrary, by cherishing
as a vital principle an unbounded spirit of inquiry and ardency of
expectation, it unfetters the mind from prejudices of every kind, and
leaves it open to every impression of a higher nature, which it is
susceptible of receiving; guarding only against enthusiasm and
self-deception by a habit of strict investigation, but encouraging, rather
than suppressing, every thing that can offer a prospect or hope beyond the
present obscure and unsatisfactory state. The character of the true
philosopher is to hope all things not impossible, and to believe all
things not unreasonable."--_Diss. on Study of Nat. Phil._

In speaking of geology and revelation, Sir John says, "There cannot be two
truths in contradiction to one another, and a man must have a mind fitted
neither for scientific nor for religious truth, whose religion can be
disturbed by geology, or whose geology can be distorted from its character
of an inductive science by a determination to accommodate its results to
preconceived interpretations of the Mosaic cosmogony."--_Dr. J. P. Smith's
Lectures_, p. viii. 4th edition.

"We have often mourned," says M'Cosh, "over the attempts made to set the
works of God against the word of God, and thereby excite, propagate, and
perpetuate jealousies fitted to separate parties that ought to live in
closest union. In particular, we have always regretted that endeavors
should have been made to depreciate nature with a view of exalting
revelation; it has always appeared to us to be nothing else than the
degrading of one part of God's works in the hope thereby of exalting and
recommending another." "Perilous as it is at all times for the friends of
religion to set themselves against natural science, it is especially
dangerous in an age like the present.

"It is no profane work that is engaged in by those who, in all humility,
would endeavor to remove jealousies between parties whom God has joined
together, and whom man is not at liberty to put asunder. We are not
lowering the dignity of science when we command it to do what all the
objects which it looks at and admires do--when we command it to worship
God. Nor are we detracting from the honor which is due to religion when we
press it to take science into its service, and accept the homage which it
is able to pay. We are seeking to exalt both when we show how nature
conducts man to the threshold of religion, and when from this point we bid
him look abroad on the wide territories of nature. We would aid at the
same time both religion and science, by removing those prejudices against
sacred truth which nature has been employed to foster; and we would
accomplish this not by casting aside and discarding nature, but by rightly
interpreting it.

"Let not science and religion be reckoned as opposing citadels, frowning
defiance upon each other, and their troops brandishing their armor in
hostile attitude. They have too many common foes, if they would but think
of it, in ignorance and prejudice, in passion and vice, under all their
forms, to admit of their lawfully wasting their strength in a useless
warfare with each other. Science has a foundation, and so has religion;
let them unite their foundations, and the basis will be broader, and they
will be two compartments of one great fabric reared to the glory of God.
Let the one be the outer and the other the inner court. In the one, let
all look, and admire, and adore; and in the other, let those who have
faith kneel, and pray, and praise. Let the one be the sanctuary where
human learning may present its richest incense as an offering to God, and
the other the holiest of all, separated from it by a veil now rent in
twain, and in which, on a blood-sprinkled mercy-seat, we pour out the
love of a reconciled heart, and hear the oracles of the living
God."--_Method of the Divine Government_, p. 449, _et seq._

_In the fifth place, scientific men and religious men may learn from this
subject to regard each other as engaged in a common cause._

If it be indeed true that scientific truth, rightly applied, is religious
truth, then may the religious man be sure that every scientific discovery
will ultimately contribute to the illustration of the character or
government of the Deity; and therefore should he encourage and rejoice in
all such investigations, and bid God speed to the votaries of science.
Even though he cannot see how the new discovery will illustrate religion,
and though, when imperfectly developed, it may seem to have an unfavorable
aspect, he need not fear to confide in the general principle that science
and religion are alike of divine origin, and must be in harmony. On the
other hand, the votary of science should remember that the state of
society most favorable to his pursuits is one in which religion exerts the
strongest influence. It is for his interest, therefore, merely as a lover
of science, and much more as a moral and accountable agent, to have pure
religion prevail. Scientific and religious men should, therefore, look
upon each other as co-laborers in a most noble cause--in illustrating the
divine character and government. All jealousy and narrow-minded
exclusiveness should be banished, and side by side should they labor in
warm-hearted and generous sympathy. Alas! how different from this has been
the history of the past! and, to a great extent, how different it is at
present! "A study of the natural world," says Professor Sedgwick, "teaches
not the truths of revealed religion, nor do the truths of religion inform
us of the inductions of physical science. Hence it is that men, whose
studies are too much confined to one branch of knowledge, often learn to
overrate themselves, and so become narrow minded. Bigotry is a besetting
sin of our nature. Too often has it been the attendant of religious zeal;
but it is perhaps the most bitter and unsparing when found among the
irreligious. A philosopher, not understanding one atom of their spirit,
will sometimes scoff at the labors of religious men; and one who calls
himself religious will, perhaps, return a like harsh judgment, and thank
God that he is not as the philosophers; forgetting, all the while, that
man can ascend to no knowledge except by faculties given to him by his
Creator's hand, and that all natural knowledge is but a reflection of the
will of God. In harsh judgments, such as these, there is not only much
folly, but much sin. True wisdom consists in seeing how all the faculties
of the mind and all parts of knowledge bear upon each other, so as to work
together to a common end; ministering at once to the happiness of man and
his Maker's glory."--_Discourse on the Studies of the University_, 5th
edition, p. 105, appendix.

_In the sixth place, the subject shows us what is the most important use
to be derived from science._

It does not consist, as men have been supposing, in its application to the
useful arts, whereby civilization, and human comfort and happiness are so
greatly promoted; although men have thereby been raised from a state of
barbarism and advanced to a high point on the scale of refinement. It is
not the application of science as a means of enlarging and disciplining
the mind; although this would be a noble result of scientific study. But
it is its application for the illustration of religion. This, I say, is
its most important use. For what higher or nobler purpose can any pursuit
subserve than in developing the character, government, and will of that
infinite Being, who is the sum and centre of all perfection and happiness?
Other objects accomplished by science are important, and in the bustle of
life they may seem to be its chief end. But in the calmness of mature
years, when we begin to estimate things according to their real value, we
shall see that the religious bearings of any pursuit far transcend in
importance all its other relations; for all its other tendencies and uses
are limited to this world, and will, therefore, be transient; but every
thing which bears the stamp of religion is immortal, and every thing which
concerns the Deity is infinite. It is true that but few who are engaged in
scientific pursuits make much account of their bearings upon man's highest
interests; but very different will it be in heaven. There, so far as we
know, all the applications of science to the useful arts will be unknown,
and the great object of its cultivation will be to gain new and clearer
views of the perfections and plans of Jehovah, and thus to awaken towards
him a deeper reverence and a warmer love. And such should be the richest
fruit of scientific researches on earth.

_In the seventh place, the subject shows us that those who are the most
eminent in science ought to be the most eminent in piety._

I am far from maintaining that science is a sufficient guide in religion.
On the other hand, if left to itself, as I fully admit,--

  "It leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind."

Nor do I maintain that scientific truth, even when properly appreciated,
will compare at all, in its influence upon the human mind, with those
peculiar and higher truths disclosed by revelation. All I contend for is,
that scientific truth, illustrating as it does the divine character,
plans, and government, ought to fan and feed the flame of true piety in
the hearts of its cultivators. He, therefore, who knows the most of
science ought most powerfully to feel this religious influence. He is not
confined, like the great mass of men, to the outer court of nature's
magnificent temple, but he is admitted to the interior, and allowed to
trace its long halls, aisles, and galleries, and gaze upon its lofty domes
and arches; nay, as a priest he enters the _penetralia_, the holy of
holies, where sacred fire is always burning upon the altars, where hovers
the glorious Schekinah, and where, from a full orchestra, the anthem of
praise is ever ascending. Petrified, indeed, must be his heart, if it
catches none of the inspiration of such a spot. He ought to go forth from
it among his fellow-men with radiant glory on his face, like Moses from
the holy mount. He who sees most of God in his works ought to show the
stamp of divinity upon his character, and lead an eminently holy life.

_Finally, the subject gives great interest and dignity to the study of
science._

It is not strange that the religious man should sometimes find his ardor
damped in the pursuit of some branches of knowledge, by the melancholy
reflection that they can be of no use beyond this world, and will exist
only as objects of memory in eternity. He may have devoted many a toilsome
year to the details and manipulations of the arts; and, so far as this
world is concerned, his labors have been eminently salutary and
interesting. But all his labors and researches can be of no avail on the
other side of the grave; and he cannot but feel sad that so much study and
efforts should leave results no more permanent. Or he may have given his
best days to loading his memory with those tongues which the Scriptures
assure us shall cease; or to those details of material organization which
can have no place or antitype in the future world. Interesting,
therefore, as such pursuits have been on earth, nay, indispensable as they
are to the well being and progress of human society, it is melancholy to
realize that they form a part of that knowledge which will vanish away.

The mind delights in the prospect of again turning its attention to those
branches of knowledge which have engrossed and interested it on earth, and
of doing this under circumstances far more favorable to their
investigation. And such an anticipation he may reasonably indulge, who
devotes himself on earth to any branch of knowledge not dependent on
arrangements and organizations peculiar to this world. He may be confident
that he is investigating those principles which will form a part of the
science of heaven. Should he ever reach that pure world, he knows that the
clogs which now weigh down his mind will drop off, and the clouds that
obscure his vision will clear away, and that a brighter sun will pour its
radiance upon his path. He is filling his mind with principles that are
immortal. He is engaged in pursuits to which glorified and angelic minds
are devoting their lofty powers. Other branches of knowledge, highly
esteemed among men, shall pass away with the destruction of this world.
The baseless hypotheses of science, falsely so called, whether moral,
intellectual, or physical, and the airy phantoms of a light and fictitious
literature, shall all pass into the limbo of forgetfulness. But the
principles of true science, constituting, as they do, the pillars of the
universe, shall bear up that universe forever. How many questions of deep
interest, respecting his favorite science, must the philosopher in this
world leave unanswered, how many points unsettled! But when he stands upon
the vantage-ground of another world, all these points shall be seen in the
bright transparencies of heaven. In this world, the votaries of science
may be compared with the aborigines who dwell around some one of the
principal sources of the River Amazon. They have been able, perhaps, to
trace one or two, or it may be a dozen, of its tributaries, from their
commencement in some mountain spring, and to follow them onwards as they
enlarge by uniting, so as to bear along the frail canoes, in which,
perhaps, they pass a few hundred miles towards the ocean. On the right and
on the left, a multitude of other tributaries swell the stream which
carries them onward, until it seems to them a mighty river. But they are
ignorant of the hundred other tributaries which drain the vast eastern
<DW72> of the Andes, and sweep over the wide plains, till their united
waters have formed the majestic Amazon. Of that river in its full glory,
and especially of the immense ocean that lies beyond, the natives have no
conception; unless, perhaps, some individual, more daring than the rest,
has floated onward till his astonished eye could scarcely discern the
shore on either hand, and before him he saw the illimitable Atlantic,
whitened by the mariner's sail and the crested waves; and he may have gone
back to tell his unbelieving countrymen the marvellous story. Just so is
it with men of science. They are able to trace with clearness a few rills
of truth from the fountain head, and to follow them onward till they unite
in a great principle, which at first men fancy is the chief law of the
universe. But as they venture still farther onward, they find new
tributary truths coming in on either side, to form a principle or law
still more broad and comprehensive. Yet it is only a few gifted and
adventurous minds that are able, from some advanced mountain top, to catch
a glimpse of the entire stream of truth, formed by the harmonious union of
all principles, and flowing on majestically into the boundless ocean of
all knowledge, the Infinite Mind. But when the Christian philosopher
shall be permitted to resume the study of science in a future world, with
powers of investigation enlarged and clarified, and all obstacles removed,
he will be able to trace onward the various ramifications of truth, till
they unite into higher and higher principles, and become one in that
centre of centres, the Divine Mind. That is the Ocean from which all truth
originally sprang, and to which it ultimately returns. To trace out the
shores of that shoreless Sea, to measure its measureless extent, and to
fathom its unfathomable depths, will be the noble and the joyous work of
eternal ages. And yet eternal ages may pass by and see the work only
begun.




Footnotes:

[1] I ought surely to except the work of Professor Bachman, which I have
not read, but which was certainly written by an able naturalist.

[2] I am not aware that this reply to the objection was ever advanced,
till the publication, by myself, last year, of a sermon on the
Resurrections of Spring, in a small volume of sermons, entitled Religious
Lectures on some peculiar Phenomena in the Four Seasons. I may be
mistaken; but I cannot see why this reply does not completely meet the
difficulty, and free an important doctrine from an incubus under which it
has long lain half smothered.

[3] I hope it is not vanity to say that this subject, also, was first
suggested in the sermon referred to in the preceding note. If correct, it
opens an animating prospect to the afflicted Christian.

[4] The first edition of this work was republished in this country. In
England it has reached the fifth edition, much enlarged.

[5] Two or three years since Professor Bronn described twenty-six thousand
six hundred and seventy-eight species; and, upon an average, one thousand
species are discovered every year. M. Alcide D'Orbigny, in 1850, stated
the number of mollusks and radiated animals alone at seventeen thousand
nine hundred and forty-seven species.

[6] The news has just reached us that this venerable man is no more. I was
present last summer at Homerton, when he resigned the charge of that
beloved institution. From his addresses and his prayers, so redolent of
the spirit of heaven, I might have known that he was pluming his wings for
his upward flight. I am thankful that I was permitted to see the man,
whom, of all others in Europe, I most desired to see. But Dr. Buckland I
did not meet; for he was in an insane hospital, with no prospect of
recovery. Alas! how sad to think of such Christian philosophers, so soon
removed from the world, or from all concern in it! Could I dare to hope
that I shall meet them and kindred spirits before the throne of our common
Redeemer, how should I exclaim with Cicero, "_O preclarum diem, quum in
illud animorum concilium coelumque proficiscar, ut quum ex hac turba et
colluvione discedam!_"

[7] This had always seemed to me a very strong case, as I had seen it
described. But a recent visit to the spot (September, 1850) did not make
so strong an impression upon me as I expected. In the first place, I found
the head of Lake Lehman, where the Rhone enters, to be so narrow, that the
detritus brought down by the river cannot spread itself out very far
laterally. Secondly, I found, on ascending the Rhone, that it is every
where a very rapid stream; and, on account of the origination of its
branches from glaciers, it is always loaded with mud. So that the process
of deposition must be going on continually. This cannot be the case in one
in ten of other rivers, whose waters, for most of the year, are clear.
This case, then, is only a quite unusual exception, and cannot be regarded
as a standard by which to judge of the rate of deposition at present, or
in past times.

[8] For a much more minute and extended account of the different modes
proposed to reconcile geology and revelation, and indeed of their entire
connection, I would refer to several papers in the American Biblical
Repository, especially to the number for October, 1835, p. 261. The
progress of science has, indeed, rendered it desirable to change a few
sentences in those articles; but all their essential principles I still
maintain.

[9] See Stuart and Hodge on Rom. v. 12; also Chalmers's Lectures on
Romans, Lecture 26; and Harris's Man Primeval, p. 178.

[10] Johnston's Physical Atlas, pp. 66, 76, (Philadelphia edition, 1850.)

[11] Rev. Joseph Tracy, Bibliotheca Sacra, Oct. 1850, p. 614.

[12] See the Frontispiece.

[13] The subject of this inference is treated with great ability and
candor in the _Biblotheca Sacra_ for November, 1849, by my friend and
colleague, Rev. Joseph Haven, Jr., professor of intellectual and moral
philosophy in Amherst College.

[14] In this description I have attempted to give exactly the experience
of myself and John Tappan, Esq., with our wives, who ascended Snowdon in
June, 1850. A few days after, we ascended Cader Idris, another mountain of
Wales, near Dolgelly, where the views were perhaps equally wild and
sublime, with the addition of a vast number of trap columns, and a
pseudo-crater, with its jagged and frowning sides.

[15] When I visited this spot, in September, 1850, I was so fortunate as
to get sight of a party that had just commenced the descent from the
summit of Mont Blanc. To the naked eye they were invisible, but the whole
train could be distinctly seen through a telescope. This was the third
party that had ascended that mountain in the summer of 1850. I doubt not
that the dangers have been exaggerated, and that the excursion will become
common.

There are other points of great interest around Chamouny, which I have not
noticed, some of which I visited, but not all. I have mentioned only the
most common.

[16] In September, 1850, I visited this well, and found the water running
still, at the rate of six hundred and sixty gallons per minute at the
surface, and half that amount at the top of a tube one hundred and twelve
feet high, from whence it could be carried to any part of Paris; and, in
fact, does supply some of the streets. I tasted the water, and found it
pleasant, though warm, (84 deg. Fahrenheit.)

[17] I adopt this division from an able American review of the "Vestiges."

[18] For the details of this remarkable subject, see the "Parthenogenesis"
of Professor Owen, p. 76, (London, 1849;) Steenstrup's "Alternation of
Generations," published by the Ray Society in 1845, and Sedgwick's
"Discourse on the Studies of the University," Supplement, p. 193, (London,
1850.)

[19] The subject of this lecture has been ably discussed, within a few
years, in most of the leading periodicals in Europe and America, though I
must say not always with the candor calculated to do the most good. The
two most able volumes that have fallen into my hands, on the subject, are
Professor Sedgwick's "Discourse on the Studies of the University," &c.,
(fifth ed., London, 1850,) and Hugh Miller's "Footprints of the Creator,"
now republished in this country.

[20] This subject has been treated more fully, and I hope more
satisfactorily, in a little work of mine, which has just reached its
second edition, entitled Religious Lectures on Peculiar Phenomena in the
Four Seasons, (Amherst, 1851.) See the first Lecture, on the Resurrections
of Spring.




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Transcriber's Notes:

Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.

The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version these
letters have been replaced with transliterations.

The original text includes Hebrew characters. For this text version these
letters have been replaced with the notation [Hebrew].






End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Religion of Geology and Its
Connected Sciences, by Edward Hitchcock

*** 