and yet each one retaining with undeviating exactness its appointed course, and the whole working with the most amazing regularity and order; and the moon with its ever-changing aspect walking in the brightness of its borrowed light. Or in the day time, we behold one stupendous orb, exceeding all others in apparent magnitude, and rendering them invisible by its almost insufferable radiance, and diffusing throughout our world, as well as to many others, genial and fructifying warmth, without which, both animal and vegetable life would become extinct, and our world be transformed into a barren desert. And when we have thus surveyed all that it is possible for the unassisted eye to perceive, we may, with the aid which the telescope supplies, extend our view, and looking this way and that, over the resplendent and illimitable fields of space, we still find sphere after sphere rising to view in continual succession, many of which are, probably, like the sun in the solar system, the centres around which innumerable planets revolve, which, on account of distance, are to us invisible, but all of which are, probably, inhabited by intelligent beings, suited by infinite wisdom and beneficence for their different situations and circumstances. But even when we have thus arrived at the furthest point to which the most powerful telescope can transport us, and when, in imagination, we have winged our way to a still greater distance, and have discovered a still larger number of systems, we are yet ignorant of the extent of space, and of the number, magnitude, and distances, of the globes which it contains. It is when we thus contemplate this vast assemblage of suns and worlds, that the earth, in all its apparent magnitude, and with all its incomprehensible wonders, sinks into comparative insignificance; and we are led to regard it in its proper character, as a mere point in creation, and to exclaim with the Psalmist, "When I consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained,—what is man, that thou art mindful of him; and the son of man, that thou visitest him?" for great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty."

But although a view of the stellar world, in all its sublime amplitude and oppressive grandeur, is calculated to humble the pride and to rebuke the arrogance of man, yet we must beware of going to that extreme of humility (or, as it would be more properly denominated, sophism of infidelity) which some have, who say that it is unreasonable for us to think that the creator and sustainer of such a vast universe would bestow any attention upon the inhabitants of such an insignificant ball as the earth, much less that, after they had rebelled against his authority he would send his only-begotten Son to suffer and die, in order that they might be brought back to their allegiance. This is, indeed, judging of God by our own standard. The finite attempting to measure the infinite; as if He whose presence fills the immensity of space, and in obedience to whose almighty fiat the universe at first sprang into existence, could ever overlook any portion of his creation, however small or minute; and as the earth forms a part of this immense universe, it is invested with additional importance from its connexion with the mighty whole, for the only way by which the whole can be sustained and governed is by sustaining and governing each particular part, for if the parts become disordered the

whole must be thrown into confusion, whether it relates to their natural or moral constitution; therefore, a care of the whole must imply a care of each of the parts of which that whole is composed.

There is nothing, then, in the study of the sidereal heavens which necessarily leads to this conclusion; but, on the contrary, there is no science, the study of which is so elevating to the human mind, and so ennobling to the intellect, as astronomy; for, while it teaches deep humility, it confers true greatness; and the mind of that man who can contemplate the wonders which it unfolds without benefit, or gaze upon the nocturnal heavens without emotion, must, indeed, be dark and depraved, for "this unbounded creation of sun, and moon, and stars, and clouds, and seasons, was not ordained merely to feed and clothe the body, but, first and supremely, to awaken, nourish, and expand, the soul; to be the school of the intellect, the nurse of thought and imagination, the field for the active powers, a revelation of the Creator, and a bond of social union. We were placed in the material creation, not to be its slaves, but to master it, and to make it minister to our highest powers." (Channing's Lectures on the Elevation of the Labouring Portion of the Community.) "And there is much in the scenery of a nocturnal sky to lift the soul to pious contemplation. That moon, and those stars-what are they? They are detached from the world, and they lift us above it. You feel yourself withdrawn from the earth, and rise in lofty abstraction above the little theatre of human passions and human anxieties. The mind abandons itself to reverie, and is transferred, in the ecstacy of its thoughts, to distant and unexplored regions. It sees nature in the simplicity of her great elements, and it sees the God of nature invested with the high attri butes of wisdom and majesty." (Chalmers' Discourse on Modern Astronomy.)

The study of these works of nature will be of little real utility if we are not led constantly to look through nature up to nature's God, who, by the exercise of his irresistible energy, at first called these orbs into existence, and appointed the paths in which they were to move, and who still sustains and directs the whole. Philosophers tell us of centrifugal and centripetal forces, which keep the planets in motion and cause them to retain their proper courses; but we are not to consider these forces as being necessarily connected with matter, but merely as the means which God has appointed for carrying out his beneficent designs with regard to the creatures which his hands have formed, for "His tender mercies are over all his works."

If celestial scenery, when viewed in the light of science, and in accordance with the truths of revelation, is thus calculated to awaken in our breasts such profound emotions of holy reverence and fear, and thus to elevate and ennoble the mind; how foolish and unwise must the sentiments of those be who deprecate all attempts to search into and comprehend the wonders which are there displayed, and who represent all computations of the number, magnitude, and distances, of the heavenly bodies, as being nothing short of impiety and presumption, as attempts to be wise above what is written, and as searching into things which arenot revealed. Such sentiments can be entertained alone by those whose intellects are of the lowest order, and whose

minds are incapable of rising to anything like grandeur or sublimity of conception. And while regarding such sentiments with that contempt which they merit, let it be ours ever to contemplate the works of creation with reverence and humility, deeply conscious of our inability, in our present state, thoroughly to investigate and comprehend them; and ever to regard them as in some measure adumbrating the character of their great Author.

Bristol, April 14th, 1845.

Enquiries and Correspondence.

W. M. J.

If

ACCORDING to promise we resume our remarks on the lecture delivered at Ipswich. We aimed at showing our readers that the difficulties with which the lecturer attempts to obstruct the path of those who argue the existence of an all-wise Creator from the appearances of design exhibited in the beautiful world around us, are difficulties that overthrow the very positions about which he, himself, is so dogmatical. We trust we have shown clearly that, if experience is insufficient to prove that intelligence is the source of design in the universe around us, it is equally insufficient to prove that, even in a watchmaker, intelligence is the source of that adaptation of means to ends, exhibited in the watch. For if we will but reflect a moment, nothing will be more evident than that the forethought and intelligence we exert in the accomplishment of the objects we have in view, is entirely a personal experience. experience be pronounced inadmissible as a ground of belief, we must not stupidly reject the existence of that Great Intelligence, whom, as Christians, we rejoice to worship, but we must renounce for the selfsame reason every existence but our own. Our lecturer tells us that we see a watchmaker, but we do not see a God. The principle of intelligence which animates and directs the mechanist is neither seen nor felt ; we judge of its existence and nature entirely from its effects. And we might, had we right hearts as well as right understandings, as readily detect the existence of our Heavenly Father in the world around us, as we do the feelings that guide and control our fellowcreatures, from the expression of their countenances. We have, indeed, no right, upon the principles laid down by the lecturer, to conclude that a feeling of joy and pleasure produces laughter in another, because it does so in ourselves. The truth is, that we can reason à priori only as individuals. Personally, we can pronounce on causes; relatively, we must judge of causes from effects. Our own individuality of character and feeling is secured to us by boundaries that cannot be overstepped. Could we decide à priori beyond ourselves, we could not exist as individuals. Having, therefore, in ourselves, found that certain feelings or principles produce certain effects, we necessarily conclude, when we see like effects, that they also result from like causes. We see, in ourselves, the relation of cause and effect, and we conclude that this relation exists elsewhere, only we know cause in ourselves as well as effect; in others we see the effect and judge of its cause.

Thus, then, just as we believe in the intelligence of our fellowcreatures from the effects of which we are cognizant-in other words, on the ground of our own personal experience-so do we believe in the existence and attributes of the Great God, and any attempt to invalidate the justice of our argument in the one case, must apply with equal force to the other. The lecturer talks of consistency in argument. If he follows out his own reasonings consistently, he will adopt, henceforth, the "silent system;" for as to a belief in sympathy or fellow feeling, it must be resigned by him as a figment of his imagination.

In reference to the second position, Do our ideas of design precede our experience? we present our readers with some very forcible observations of the Rev. R. Morehead, whose Dialogues on Natural and Revealed Religion," are well worthy of their perusal :

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"It is impossible for any man fairly to open his mind to the argument for the existence and attributes of God, derived from the appearances of DESIGN in nature, without perceiving that it is as complete as it is capable of being rendered-and that these appearances are so perfect, so remarkable, and so much accumulated from every quarter, that there is no resisting the conclusion to which they lead. The fact is, that if there is anything unsatisfactory in the argument, it is, that it becomes dark from excess of light,'-that after going over, again and again, the same process of reasoning, wherever the materials for it are presented to us-and these are to be found wherever we choose to direct our inquiries-we are bewildered in the very multiplicity of the proofs; and the infinitude of the Divine nature which thus rises upon us, more and more, at every successive step, is so much beyond the grasp of the limited comprehension of man, that it eludes us when we seem most securely to have laid hold of it. There is thus a species of scepticism produced with respect to the force of a description of proof, the result of which is less impressive than we should previously have concluded it to be, and we are apt to suspect that there is some secret flaw in it, which, although we cannot discover it, is in reality preventing it from producing that overpowering conviction which would seem to be its necessary consequence.

"Perhaps we should have more assurance that there can be no possible sophism in the argument, were we to be fully aware that it is not one for which we are indebted to the ingenuity of philosophers, but that it is, in truth, founded on observations which are constantly before the human mind, and which, I will venture to say, there is no one who has come to the use of reason who has not habitually made. They are, indeed, made so constantly that we come not to be conscious of them; but we may, nevertheless, on a little reflection, be certain that they are made by all mankind, in all ages of their lives, and in every period of society. Is there a child, who knows anything at all, that is not perfectly aware that his hands are instruments for lifting his food to his lips, as distinctly as that the spoon in which he lifts it is such an instrument? Does he not see the purpose, the design for which his hands are intended, as evidently as he knows the purpose of the spoon? Can he look at the one without connecting the notion of design with the use which he puts them to, any more than he can look at the other?

He does not muse, indeed, upon purposes and final causes as a philosopher would do, either in the case of the instruments of the divine workmanship, or those of which man is the artificer; but he is not the less aware that there are these purposes in both instances, and he practically applies the tools as they are given to him with a ready perception of the intention with which they were given. Is there a savage in the woods who does not perceive that the hide which he strips from the animal which he has killed, and throws around his own naked limbs, was intended for a covering to the animal while it was alive, no less than he intends it for a covering to himself? Does he not know that the tusks or the claws of the wild creatures with which he contends, are as much their weapons of warfare as his bow and arrows are his? Is he ignorant that, when the light of the sun awakes him in the morning, it is intended that he should go forth to the labours of the chase, or that, when the shades of night fall, he should return to the shelter of his hut or his cave? Does he not know that the design of the great luminary is to give light to the world, and that when the light is withdrawn, then comes the season of sleep and repose?

"If it should be said that he cannot, indeed, mistake the uses of these natural agents or changes, but that they never occur to him as being intentional uses, I must own that I cannot very well distinguish between these ideas, and that the notion of utility, unaccompanied with that of purpose or design, appears to me to be one which the human mind is incapable of forming. I admit that the utility is all that the savage (and, I fear, civilised and Christian men are habitually guilty of the same disregard to any higher conception) is occupied with; but it is as utterly impossible that the purposes of the common natural objects which are every moment in his view, and applied to his uses, should not be apparent to him, as that he should make use of his bow, or his hatchet, without any sense of the design employed in their formation. He is, probably, as little disposed to admire the ingenuity displayed in the fabric of these instruments, which he considers only in the light of the use to which they are applicable, as he is given to admire the wisdom which is visible in the works and operations of nature; but can he use them without seeing what they are intended for? Can he then spring up with the morning beams, or sit under the shade of the tree, or allay his thirst at the fountain, without knowing the purposes of all these beneficent arrangements of nature; and though the use is all that occupies his attention, is it possible that the purpose should not at the same moment cross his mind?

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"I know that a distinction has been attempted to be made between the works of nature and those of art, by which the evidence of design in the one case would be put on a different footing from what it is in the other. We have experience, it is said, that every work of human art has its origin in design,—but our only reason for thinking so of the works of nature is, that they bear a certain resemblance to those in which we know from experience that skill and artifice have been employed. This resemblance is so great that it is impossible that we should not be sensible of it, and feel to what conclusion it leads, when we give our attention to it in a meditative frame of mind; but we are