The theology of which we speak has of course revelation for its basis, because we can know nothing whatsoever concerning what God is, save as he himself makes it known to us. The strange notions which man, left to himself, has formed sufficiently evince this; and reason or philosophy, in their utmost perfection, have never been able to go beyond the inference that there is a God, and that there can be but one first and greatest of beings; but that God hath those attributes in himself, and those methods of dealing with his creatures, which theology treats of, we should never know, if God had not revealed these things to us. And theology also informs us that these revelations are made, not merely to gratify curiosity, but to make us acquainted with the origin and connection of the goodly framework and machinery of the universe, in order that we, as part thereof, may fall in with the purpose which God is accomplishing thereby; and, fulfilling our present duties, may be in waiting readiness for the winding up of that which remains of present time, and the development of that glorious futurity which God has also spoken of-that kingdom of heaven in which all that is at present doubtful or obscure shall be made clear, and all that is now incompleted shall be perfected, and those who rightly employ the present time of preparation shall receive an eternal reward, and enter into the joy of their Lord-a reward commensurate with an enlarged capacity in man, and, therefore, such as, in our present condition, eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into man's heart to conceive.

And philosophy itself, the more it advances, and the truer it becomes, is only the more obliged to have recourse to theology, and acknowledge such a first cause as we mean by God. For when we have pushed our investigations to the utmost, we always find that, both in immensity and in minuteness, there are regions which appear to be infinite and unfathomable, where the hand of the same God still is seen: the mere numbers and forms of being that appear are beyond calculation or conception: and in every one of them, however simple, we find a limit to our knowledge beyond which philosophy cannot carry us, and where we are constrained to acknowledge-this is the finger of God. Professor Owen, in one of his addresses, well observed :

"Everything is great or small only by comparison. The telescope teaches us that our world is but an atom, and none know better than microscopal observers that every atom is a world. If the astronomer be led, from the contemplation of the countless orbs that traverse

boundless space, to the adoration of the Creator in His almightiness, so the observation of the perfections of his minutest works, which, though invisible to ordinary ken, unfold new perfections with every increased power of observing them, ought to impress us with a lively sense of that all-caring-for and all-seeing Providence, without whom not a sparrow falls to the ground, and by whom every hair of the head is numbered."

And in every blade of grass, and in the most simple of the mollusks, or the most minute animalculæ, in all organized beings whatever, there is a principle of life beyond the organization, and wholly independent of it, concerning which we know nothing. So also mere matter has its laws, such as gravitation, polarity, chemical affinity, and so on-the operation of which we may note, but the principle of which we cannot by any means discover. For there is a point in every science beyond which we are unable to carry our investigations: the point we may shift a little further back, but beyond it we cannot get, and are constrained to say-this is beyond the creature itself, and must be attributed to some higher power. The operation of the laws which belong to every science we are able to trace; but the laws themselves-that power by which these operations go on so uniformly and constantly that we are able to trace each operation to a fixed principle or law-this we can only ascribe to God. What is gravitation, or polarity, or chemical affinity? They are at present only names for certain operations. Who taught the animals their several instincts? Why do birds build their nests, and bees form their cells, alike in all countries where they are found? Nay, birds in cages who have never seen a nest, and are not in a natural state? These powers-these instincts— are of God.

First principles and laws of being, moreover, are usually compensations one of another, which for their operation require the nicest adjustment, with an abiding counterpoise for continuing their uniform action. These laws also are generally contrary to the natural tendencies of the bodies upon which they act, and often two or more laws are in operation at the same time, in antagonism to each other, yet preserving an exact equipoise. It is by the balance of opposite principles, keeping all things in such wonderful harmony, that the contemplative mind is most forcibly affected, in studying that goodly portion of the universe which is within the reach of our investigation; and from this contemplation we rise with the conviction that laws which are contrary to the natural tendencies of the creation cannot be self generated-cannot be

of it--but are of some power higher than it-independent of it. And in contemplation of the universality, and constaney, and omnipotence of those laws, we arrive at the further conviction that the Author and Sustainer of all things is God. The region of intellect also, like that of sense, has its laws and its limits, beyond which it cannot carry its metaphysical enquiries, yet is constrained to acknowledge that God is above and beyond. God is there, but equally unknown to all who expect by searching to find him out-whether the confession be made by shrinking from him in superstitious dread, or discoursing philosophically concerning a Being shrouded in light inaccessible, or dwelling in heights above and depths beneath, unfathomable to the comprehension of all created, all finite intelligences, whether human or angelic.

Looking at that portion of creation with which we are best acquainted, and enquiring concerning the present constitution of the earth, philosophy cannot explain how it happens that there is any dry land at all. It is contrary to the natural tendencies of earth and water that any dry land should appear. The earth is the heavier element of the two, and at the beginning it must have been under the water; and, left to itself, it would always have remained lowest, and the water, as the lighter, would for ever have covered the surface of the earth. Natural causes fail in accounting for the existence of land, and are opposed to its existence: therefore, reason is obliged to resort to a supernatural cause-that is, to the Author and Controller of natural things; and revelation comes in aid of reason, and tells us that it was brought about by the word of God. God said, "Let the waters be gathered together, and let the dry land appear." And it was so. Philosophy and revelation coincide in ascribing the mere existence of dry land to the power of God; and, when we look to the living creatures inhabiting the earth, and rise above inanimate existence to contemplate life in any of its various forms, the proofs of the agency and continual presence of God become so much the more numerous, and clear, and cogent. Vegetable life, from its lowest to its highest forms; and much more animal life, with its sensations, instincts, thoughts, affections, and powers -life, in all its forms and modes of action, implies, both for its origin and for its continual exercise, creative and providential attributes, which can be ascribed to none other than God alone. There is such a witness for God in the adaptation of each creature to its place, and that a place already prepared for that creature; such a oneness of mind, and foresight of all contingencies; such provision made for each living thing in

the varied constitution of matter, and such conformation and adaptation of all living things to avail themselves of that provision, that there is no better help to devotion than the contemplation of this universal harmony. Natural theology is one of the most constant handmaids of religion. The Psalmist, in adoration of the Creator, sometimes lifts up his eyes to the heavens, the work of God's hand-to the moon and the stars which he hath ordained. At other times his worship is directed to Him who giveth to the beast his food, and to the young ravens which cry, saying, "All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord; and thy saints shall bless thee; the eyes of all wait upon thee; and thou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest thine hand, and satisfiest the desire of every living thing." And our Lord himself directs our contemplation to the same subjects as incentives of our faith, and to increase our confidence in God-" Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them."

The point we start from-the point we desire to impress upon our readers, that they may bear it constantly in mind,

is this: that there is an order and adaptation to the place they occupy in all things, so as to evince power and intention in such a way as to lead up to God, the Creator and Governor of all things. And then we must be consistent, and having, from the manifest order, inferred that God hath wrought in these things, expect to find order in all the works of God. And as the evidence of intention, which appears in the things that we do understand, has led to the inference that these have had an intelligent Creator, so we should not rest satisfied with any explanation of the things which we do not understand, except this also implies intelligence and purpose in the Creator. Every act of creation must result from a purpose, and evince an order and a plan—we cannot allow that anything has been left to chance. Nor does true science, any more than theology, admit such an element as chance: we may be ignorant of a law-it may be above our comprehension-we may be constrained to ascribe the act to God; but it is quackery only that resorts to chance: where knowledge ends, there causation begins, which is only another name for the One God.

When, by the necessity of being consistent, we are thus forced to require proofs of order and intelligence in any admissible or credible account of the creation, reason shuts us up to some such account as that which is contained in Scripture, common sense ought at once to reject any other theory of creation, however plausible. For our knowledge, derived from

natural theology, requires that the Creator shall have prepared a place for each creature, and placed each creature in the situation intended for it, in full possession of all those qualities, faculties, or endowments, by means of which it could at once enter upon its destiny, both of receiving from, and ministering to, other creatures, in that progressive scale, and connected chain of being, which the creation, contemplated as a whole, presents to our admiration and gratitude.

Man and all animals were, of course, created in full maturity; not only because it is reasonable to expect that the Creator would bring them into being in full perfection to show his intention by them; not only because thus only could they occupy their place in the scale of being, and show their true relationship to other beings above or below them, but also from the necessity of the case; for children and the young of all creatures are helpless, and even in their best estate-even in paradise-they would require to be fostered by parental care. And plants were created in their full size, and all laden with their proper fruit; for these were created for the sustenance of life, and man and the animals would need food as soon as they were brought into existence. And the earth was created in such variety of hill and dale, and such diversity of soil and climate, as might be requisite for the growth of the various species of plants, each of which species is adapted to certain races of animals, who also instinctively frequent those regions where the plants fitted to their sustenance thrive the bestwhether it be the mountain, the plain, or the morass.

In contemplating the works of creation, as existing at the present time, we cannot get much beyond the point at which we have now arrived when reasoning from the external world alone. In the visible creation we find such proofs of design, and such wonderful adaptation to the place which each is intended to occupy, and such a chain of connection binding them all together as one whole-the product of one universal mind-that we assent to the truth of natural theology, and ascribe the creation of all things to God. And we rest so firmly on this ground as to refuse in toto the admission of such elements as are only the result of accident or chance. We cannot but ascribe to God alone the origin of all things, and to him alone ascribe those properties and laws, both of matter and of life, which are implanted in each, according to its kind, and keep each in its own place, and enable it to discharge its appointed functions. We do not mean to address ourselves to any that refuse to go with us thus far: since we think that the truths of natural theology are placed by Paley and others on grounds so distinct as to be beyond reasonable doubt or cavil. The dis