breathing who doubts of this, that man can be convinced of nothing. Well, then, if they were so designed, they must have been designed by some one; if they were contrived for these purposes, there must have been a contriver. Surely, this is plain. But we are very certain that no being which we see did make or contrive these things. Who could make or contrive them? No man in the world, not all the men in the world, could make the eyes of a single insect, the limb of a fly, the feather of a bird, the scale of a fish, a grain of corn, or even a leaf of the vilest weed that grows upon the roadside. This, I think, will be allowed. Seeing these things were contrived and designed for the various uses which they serve by some being or other, and since they certainly were not contrived or designed by men, or by any body that we see upon the face of the earth, there must necessarily be some other being, whom we do not see, that was the maker, author, and contriver of all these wonderful effects.

I have said that this argument is intelligible to the simplest man living; it is no other than briefly this; Suppose, in walking upon a wide common, we should trip upon a stone lying upon the ground. If we were asked how the stone came there, possibly we might answer, that, for any thing we knew, it had lain there for ever; and it might not be very easy to show that there was any absurdity in this answer. But suppose we had met with a watch lying on the ground, and you should ask how it came to pass that a watch was in that place, we should never think of the answer we gave to the same question before; that for any thing that appeared to us, it might have lain there for ever. And why might not this answer serve for the watch, as it did for the stone? Why was it not as reasonable in the one case as the other? On this plain account; because, when we examine the watch, we perceive that its several parts are planned, contrived, and put together with design, and for a purpose; that they are so constructed as to produce motion, and that motion so regulated as to point out the hour of the day; from whence we are perfectly certain that it must have had a maker; that there must have been some one, at some time, and in some place, who planned, and intended, and fashioned it, in the manner and for the purpose for which we see it planned and fashioned; who governed, constructed, and designed its use. Now, if there was no artist that we knew or had seen who was capable of making such an instrument, that surely would be no objection to the certainty of what we had concluded, that it was made by art. It would only prove that

the artist, whoever he was, that fabricated this machine, existed in some other country, or at some former time.

The brief statement of the case is this: Whatever reason we have to believe that every house must have had a builder, that a watch must have had a maker, that a book must have had an author; that very same reason we have to know that the world must have had a Creator. The one is just as certain as the other; the proof is the same in both. There is, indeed, a difference in the two cases, which is this; that whereas, in the works of men's hands, every individual piece of art is made by its artist, every individual house has its builder, every single watch has its maker, every particular book has its author and printer; whereas, I say, this is the case with works of art, the works of nature, on the contrary, produce one another. Plants produce plants of the same kind; animals beget and bring forth other animals of the same species; and thus the race and succession is kept up for ever. We must be all sensible of this difference between nature and art. One watch never produces another watch, as one animal does another animal. Now this difference, I say, greatly magnifies the contrivance on the part of nature, above all the attempts of art, and makes the proof of contrivance proportionably stronger. Suppose a watch could be so wonderfully made, as not only to go with perfect exactness itself, but so constructed within as to produce in the course of its motion other machines of the same kind; to contain within itself such mould and machinery as to cast and frame individuals like itself; would not this add exceedingly to the curiosity and art of the contrivance? As this required a mechanism vastly more intricate, vastly more complete, so would it proportionably raise our admiration of the maker's skill and ingenuity. And if the simple machine, of itself, proved undeniably, by the very examination of it, that it must have had a contriver, and a contriver too of great skill and art, much more, with this improvement, with this new and additional property, would it demonstrate the same thing. Now what we should so much wonder at in a piece of machinery or clockwork, namely, the power of producing its like, and which never has been compassed in any piece of machinery yet, is the very fact in the works of nature, and is as much a part of the contrivance, and surely as admirable and astonishing a part of the contrivance, as any other. We will not, therefore, be so absurd as to say that an animal or plant, for instance, without this property, would be exactly like a watch or a clock, in respect to its being contrived, and would equally prove that it

must have had a contriver, but that with this property, which is indeed a prodigious improvement, it does not prove the same thing. We cannot, I say, be so absurd as to argue thus. And yet, in fact, the circumstance of animals and plants being produced from parent animals and parent plants, takes off greatly our notice from the original maker and contriver of them all; because we do not see the artist, as it were, at work, as if he delivered each individual from his own hand, or produced each plant and animal by an immediate act of creation. We say the parent bird produces its young; yet it is no more the parent animal that makes the young animal, than it is the husbandman who sows the seed, that makes the young plant grow out of it. It is not he that makes the corn spring up, first the blade, then the stem, then the ear, then the seed in the ear; nor do we ever imagine it. Therefore I wish to have this well impressed and understood; that if the formation of a plant or animal proves a maker and contriver, as much, at least, as the mechanism of a watch or clock proves a maker and contriver; not less certainly, but much more so, does it prove it, when there is added to the plant or animal this new and surprising power, which excels all the rest, namely, that of producing another.

We conclude then, with most undoubting assurance, that all things about us had a maker; because we have precisely the same ground for our opinion that we have for saying every house must have had a builder, or every watch a maker. The plain mark of contrivance is the proof in both cases. But the force and impression of the proof will, in a great measure, depend upon the observation we make of these contrivances ourselves. A few instances that we discover, or even take notice of, of our own accord, will strike us more powerfully than a hundred that are related by others, and more powerfully a great deal than any general argumentation upon the subject. And this brings me to what I would most earnestly recommend to any one who hears me, namely, a way and habit of remarking and contemplating the works and mysteries of nature. It is a delightful and reasonable and pious exercise of our thoughts; it is oftentimes the very first thing that leads to a religious disposition. The best, and greatest, and wisest men in all ages were they who made this use of their understandings, and this application of their studies. But what is more, it is in a sufficient degree open to the level of every capacity. We are not to excuse ourselves, by saying such things are above our comprehension. This is not above any man's comprehension. The very herbage

which he walks upon in his field, the grass he uses for his cattle, the lambs of his flock, and the herds grazing around him; the birds of the air, and the very insects on the wing, may discover evident marks of design, and undeniable tokens of intention and contrivance; and it must and ought to be a great consolation to us all, that this point at least is certain, that whatever difficulties or disputes there be in religion, one thing, however, is clear; that in this world of darkness, sorrow, and confusion, we have this firm foundation to rest our foot upon, that there is a God above, that there is a king, whom we do not see, who is the artificer and framer, the author, cause, and contriver, of every thing which we do see.

LVII.

THE BEING OF GOD DEMONSTRATED IN THE WORKS OF CREATION,

HEBREWS XI. 3.

Through faith we understand that the worlds were formed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.

In a former discourse upon this text, I undertook to show that we have as much reason to know that the world had a creator as we have for knowing that every house had a builder, or every watch a maker; and that as we are very sure that no being, whom we see or are acquainted with, could make the world, we rightly conclude that it must be some being whom we do not see. This reasoning seems as short and plain as any thing can be, yet the impression and force of it is not always felt by us so strongly as might be expected. I will therefore, in the following discourse, point out some of the causes which shut out this argument, in some measure, from our thoughts, or rather take off our observation from the proofs and evidences of God's agency and existence, which on every hand surround us.

Now one thing which diminishes greatly man's conviction of the being and power of God, especially with persons who do not bestow much thought upon the subject, is, that they do not

to.

see him. 'No man hath seen God at any time;' and the want of this, of actually perceiving him with our senses, has a very considerable effect upon the persuasion of all who are not accustomed to reflection. The evidence of our senses, or the testimony of other men's, is the strong and natural proof of the reality and existence of most things, and with many, the only proof they will attend to. To believe any thing to exist and act, which yet cannot be seen or felt, and which no man hath seen or felt, requires a reach of thought which many, from want of habits of seriousness and meditation, do not attain We see and hear one another, and therefore doubt not of one another's existence. We do not see God and hear him, and therefore it is to reason and argument we must appeal, to be satisfied of his existence. There are, I am confident, reasons and arguments, so strong and plain, that no man can well withstand them, or not have his judgment convinced by them; yet still the fact of never seeing this great being, or perceiving him with our senses, brings upon the subject a kind of suspense and hesitation. The most natural way of delivering our thoughts from any doubts on this account, is to consider, that there are many other things besides the Deity, of the existence and reality of which we have no doubt, nor can have any doubt, which nevertheless we do not see, nor can see, nor ever were

seen.

A stone drops to the ground. Something must draw it thither; something must influence and act upon it, to cause it to fall down rather than fly upwards, to urge it constantly to seek and press towards the lowest place rather than any other part, or in any other direction; yet no eye can see what it is that thus acts upon the stone. Shall we therefore say that nothing acts upon it? That this constant and powerful effect has no cause to produce it, because we perceive none with our senses? This is one plain instance. Here is something of vast efficacy and activity, which is spread and diffused through every part of space that we are acquainted with. Go where we will, we meet with it; in ourselves, in every thing about us. Whatever has weight, and all bodies have it more or less, feels and suffers the influence of this universal agent; yet nothing is to be seen all the while, no visible stream or fluid driving or carrying all bodies to the centre, no discernible pull or hold which drags them to it.

Another similar example may be taken from the loadstone. It draws a needle towards it. Something or other must pass between it and the needle to produce this effect, yet nothing is