of mere visual impressions. And when the organ is fully educated, how quick and various is the information that it gives! The traveller arrives at the crest of a hill which commands a full prospect of a renowned city that he had never before seen, together with a long reach of the beautiful valley in which it lies. In a moment, his eye takes in the extended and widely diversified scene, the maze of houses and streets, the projecting spires and towers, the swelling dome of the cathedral, the variegated tints of roofs and walls, the tufted tops of trees rising here and there at irregular intervals, the river winding through the vale; and a tolerably correct estimate of the size, distance, and relative position of these objects is so quickly formed, that it seems a part of the picture. It is marvellous that so great an accession to our knowledge, so large a stock of new and interesting perceptions, should be gained in an instant of time.

ence.

Here, then, in the most familiar of all cases, body and mind coöperate so perfectly, and the adaptation of both to the wants of man, considered as an inhabitant of the material universe, is so complete, that we cannot avoid referring all the parts of the complex contrivance to one Author. Our admiration of the design is enhanced when we reflect that the organ of sight is entirely formed at a period when no communication exists between it and that element to which every portion of it has so manifest a referThe scheme of education, of self-improvement, with its obvious moral bearings, which we have seen to be the chief purpose of our being here below, is here visibly kept in view in the earliest physical arrangements that are made for our security and happiness upon earth. In other respects, the adaptation of the organ to man's physical wants, and to the formation of his character, is hardly less remarkable. "If, by the help of microscopical eyes," says Locke, "a man should penetrate further than ordinary into the secret composition and radical texture of bodies, he would not make any great advantage by the change, if such an acute sight would not serve to conduct him to the market and exchange, if he could not see things he was to avoid at a convenient distance, or distinguish things he had to do with, by

those sensible qualities others do. He that was sharp-sighted enough to see the configuration of the minute particles of the spring of a clock, and observe on what peculiar structure and impulse its elastic motion depends, would no doubt discover something very admirable; but if eyes so framed could not view at once the hand and the characters of the hour-plate, and thereby discover at a distance what o'clock it was, their owner could not be much benefited by that acuteness which, whilst it discovered the secret contrivance of the parts of the machine, made him lose its use."

It would be easy to follow out this line of argument in regard to the other senses, and the several remaining points in the physical organization of man, and show how he is fitted in all respects to the scale of the world in which he dwells, and to the objects by which he is surrounded. "No other cause," says an eminent naturalist, "can be assigned why a man was not made five or ten times bigger, but his relation to the rest of the universe." The law of the association of ideas, which is the regulative principle of memory, corresponds so exactly with the uniform succession of cause and effect, which is the regulative principle of the universe, that no one can doubt that the one was specially designed to be the complement of the other. The child associates the idea of burning with that of the fire, and every pleasant or painful feeling reminds him of the occasion. when it was first excited; on these connections of thought the whole value of experience depends. If memory acted disorderly, the effect, for all practical purposes, would be the same as if events succeeded each other at random, and not in an unchangeable sequence. Before the past can be a safe guide as to the future, it is necessary, not only that the same effect should always follow the same cause, but also that the sight of the cause should always and instantly remind us of what is sure to succeed. In this respect, as in many others, the mind is a microcosm; it mirrors to us those aspects of external nature which are most necessary to be presented for the safety of the individual. The law of causation is also the law of memory.

A still more pleasing proof of uniformity of design may be found in the preservation of the common type of humanity among all nations, and in all ages of the world. Make out the difference as wide as you can between the savage and the civilized man, yet it is as nothing when compared with the interval which lies between the savage and the brute. This interval is constant. Exhaust all the means and artifices of instruction upon one of the lower animals, and he never even approaches the boundary line of humanity. On the other hand, all projects for reclaiming the criminal or the savage go upon the supposition that he is a human being, like ourselves, that he is moved by the same desires, agitated by the same passions, and has faculties which, though latent now, are capable of as high development. We instinctively recognize this common humanity, and act upon it; the taking of human life is everywhere viewed as a grave and awful deed, to be justified only by pressing necessity; while mere animal existence is sacrificed without a touch of remorse. Persons of delicate feelings, indeed, may shrink from the work; but their repugnance is founded mainly on an amiable illusion, which invests the dumb creature a favorite domestic animal, perhaps with some of the attributes of humanity. The individuals who make up the race are constantly changing; one generation succeeds another, and, at the close of a century, hardly one human being survives who was alive at its commencement. But the unchanging characteristics, the type, of the species, survive all mutations, and the subject of history is still the same. In every age and every country, the great features of humanity appear as steadfast as if they were engraved in marble. "It is this," says an eminent writer, "which gives the great charm to what we call nature in epic and dramatic compositions; when the poet speaks a language to which every heart is an echo, and which, amidst all the effects of education and fashion in modifying and disguising the principles of our constitution, reminds all the various classes of readers or spectators of the existence of those moral ties which unite us to each other and to our common Parent."

The facts upon which I have dwelt in this Lecture are sufficiently familiar; and it is true of all of them, that they suggest rather than prove the great doctrine of the unity of God. The truth of this doctrine is sufficiently established, as was remarked in the outset, by the absence of all evidence to the contrary. We have abundant testimony that one God exists; we have not even an intimation that there is more than one; and this is enough. I have sought to show, however, that this truth, like the other doctrines of natural theology, is continually suggested to us by a study of the universe in which we live, and of which we form a part. In the unity of our own life and consciousness we find reflected the unity of Him from whom we derived our being. "Every man, a single, active, conscious self, is the image of his Maker. There is in him one undivided animating principle, which, in its perceptions and operations, runs through the whole system of matter that it inhabits; it perceives for the most distant parts of the body; it cares for all and governs all ;— thus leading us, by analogy, to form an idea of the one great quickening Spirit which presides over the whole frame of nature, the spring of all motion and operation in it, understanding and active in all parts of the universe, not as its soul, indeed, but as its Lord, by whose vital directing influence it is, though so vast a bulk and consisting of so many parts, united into one regular fabric."*

* Abernethy on the Divine Attributes, I. p. 173.

LECTURE X.

THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL CANNOT BE PROVED WITHOUT THE AID OF REVELATION.

POLYTHEISM, it was remarked in the last Lecture, is the religion of a barbarous age, and of the uncultivated understanding. It is the natural product of the religious sentiment before the reasoning power is developed, or the mind informed by reflection and careful study of the phenomena of the physical and moral universe. I do not say that polytheism is a natural form of religion, because I do not believe that barbarism and ignorance are natural to man. The great purpose of our being, as I have attempted to show, is self-improvement in the largest sense,—is moral, intellectual, and religious progress achieved by our own efforts; and we are in our natural condition only when we are active in that work. Barbarism is no otherwise natural to the human race than infancy is; it is a point of departure, a commencement of growth. The religious sentiment of an uncivilized people first manifests itself in idolatry, — that is, in a worship of false gods, or a system of polytheism. History and the reports of travellers inform us, that this is the universal faith of savage tribes. A few minds, far in advance of the others in refinement and habits of reflection, may throw off this belief of the populace; but they usually take refuge from it in general skepticism or fanciful speculation, rather than in pure theism. It is of no more use, then, to disprove polytheism than to argue. against barbarism; that cannot be disproved which does not rest