the infinite wisdom of his Maker. He approves, censures, corrects, and prescribes laws to Nature, and limits to Omnipotence: and thus, while with idle systems, he is busily occupied in arranging this machine of the world, the poor husbandman, who sees the sun and the rain con-tribute in their turns to fertilize his fields, admires and blesses the hand, whose bounties he receives, without troubling himself about the manner in which they are bestowed. He does not seek to justify his ignorance, or his vices, by his infidelity. He does not arrogantly censure the works of his Creator, nor attack his Divine Master to display his own self-sufficiency.*

But there is an arbitrary word, which men are extravagantly fond of, which yet is totally destitute of meaning. What is nature; that is, what is it in contradistinction to the Author of nature? Examine it narrowly; you will find it eludes every possible research. Who teaches the young of all animals without exception, first, to make use of their limbs, and move their bodics? It is a secret, you will say, to all the philosophers on earth, how spontaneous motion is performed. And how can every brute, every creature, so readily perform an action, the nature and reason

* Rousseau.

of

of which is such a mystery? Who guides them in their work? Spontaneous motion, in the first instance, is neither performed by reason, nor by habit. Is not the constant direction of Deity therefore necessary? Is it not necessary also in the formation of animals, as well as vegetables? And farther, when the little living creatures have no faculties to contrive, nor knowledge to comprehend, the mysterious process they are employed in, is it not still equally necessary, and equally plain, they must be guided by the same wisdom, which constantly directs the formation. of their bodies? Were it not for this providential direction, no species of animals, not even man, could overcome the first difficulties of life, but, must inevitably give up their new-gotten breath, under an inability and ignorance what to do to preserve it. Nature, therefore, may be stiled the divinity of the atheist; the knowledge of the ignorant, and the refuge of the slothful mind, in which all contradictions are consistent. Nature, as an universal unmeaning cause, supersedes every inquiry; and as a mere non-entity, requires neither fear nor reverence.

"He is a superficial philosopher," says a great writer,*"who adheres to atheism." But, I rather

4

* Bacon.

I rather think, with all deference, it should be said, atheism is not the vice of ignorance, but of misapplied knowledge; although I believe it to be true, in fact, that sound learning and information never made a man an atheist. Many, indeed, have doubted; for incertitude is the lot of humanity. But, few, if any, have denied, who have thoroughly considered. There are, and have been unquestionably, persons who have never set themselves heartily to be informed; who have secretly wished the general belief not to prove true; who have been less attentive to evidence than to difficulties; and who, of course, have been incapable of conviction, though upheld by demonstration. And yet this description of men is ever the most contaminated by bigotry. They are wedded to opinions full of contradiction and impossibility, and at the same time reject opinions merely because they agree with common sense. Notions, that fall in with the common reason of mankind, and that have a tendency towards promoting the happiness of society, they explode as errors and prejudices. But, they should, for the public good, act at least so consistently, as not to burn with zeal for licentious emancipation, and for absurdity.

The awful, unaccountable, and epidemical contempt, which has sometimes been shewn for

an

an Eternal Being, is incomprehensible.

Yet, there is no language in which you will not find the exclamation, "O my God!" No man who is grievously afflicted, no father or mother, who are deprived of their offspring, who will not cast up their eyes to heaven, and in their misery heave out a secret sigh towards the Supreme Being. It is a strange influence which custom has upon perverse and crooked spirits, whose thoughts reach no farther than their senses, that what they have seen and been used to, they make the standard and measure of nature and reason. No men are more tenacious of their little opinions, nor more petulantly censorious. And it is generally so, that those who have the least evidence for the truth of favourite opinions, are most peevish and impatient in the defence of them. These men are the last to be cured of prejudice, for they have the worst of diseases, and do not so much as know themselves to be sick. Weak reasons commonly produce strong passions: and he who believes that dead matter can produce the effects of life and reason, is an hundred times more credulous than the most thorough-paced believer that ever existed.

It does, indeed, sometimes occur, that a morally well intentioned mind may fall into this abyss

Burnet.

abyss of absurdity, this hypothesis of atheism. When it does, how from the very bottom of our hearts do we pity the blindness, which can lead so fatally astray! A blindness in one, who on other occasions may perhaps see clearly; and a rooted obstinacy of opinions in one, who, on other points, may be full of candour. But, when a man has withdrawn himself from the noise of this busy world, locked up his senses and his passions, and every thing that would unite him with it, commanded a general silence in the soul, and suffers not a thought to stir but what looks inwards; let him then reflect seriously, and ask himself, what am I? and how came I into being? I am nothing but thoughts, fleeting thoughts, which chace and extinguish one another; and my being, for ought I know, is successive, and as dying as they are, and renewed to me every moment. Hence, therefore, in reason, should I not believe, I stand or fall at the mercy of other causes, and as I am not certain of my existence three minutes hence, that it cannot depend upon my own will, or my own sufficiency?*

Let us consider a few of the most familiar circumstances of animal existence. I rise from my seat. By whose power? I proceed a step. Who

• Burnet.