The Library 
 University of California, Los Angeles 
 
 The gift of Mrs. Cummings, 1 963 
 
ABOUT AGUE. 
 
 ^ i ^4ua C Z S a\% e t l e ( ^r Cal ReCarrSaCe ° f T ^<° 
 
 Tertian and quartan agues are disease caused by a 
 microscopic paras.te of which there are two varied 
 one corresponding to each complaint. A diseased 
 mosquito pierces the skin and a minute quality offts 
 saliva exudes mto the wound, introducing into the Wood 
 vast numbers of the parasite. These Attack the re 
 corpuscles, and destroy many of them. this leads 
 to the characteristic ague symptoms, culminatiu 
 forty-eight hours or in seventy-two hours 
 ,. • IT^' recurrence corresponds with the tim- 
 required for the maturing of fresh crops of the pat-aSe 
 
 va'r etv S T\° nSer /°r tbe ^'^ ^ ** ^S| 
 vanety. In most diseases caused by srerms on- atfawJ 
 
 secures partial or complete immunity, but a^ue is a 
 
 blood disease, and blood is constantly cbaKA* 
 
 composition, so that it is always liable to fresh inferior 
 
^HAJ 
 
r k 
 
 DIALOGUES 
 
 ■i 
 ON DIVINE PROVIDENCE 
 
 BY A FELLOW OF A COLLEGE 
 
 LONDON 
 JOHN W. PARKER AND SON WEST STRAND 
 
LONDON." 
 
 PRINTED liV VVKKTIIKI.UKK AND CO.. 
 
 KINSBURV CIKCL'S. 
 

 MEMORISE 
 
 S. 
 
 2117635 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2007 
 
 http://archive.org/details/dialoguesondivinOOIondiala 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The following pages were originally intended 
 to embody the substance of an unwritten ser- 
 mon. But the form has been entirely changed ; 
 and the matter has received many additions 
 and modifications. The result is a very small 
 book indeed; but, small and insignificant 
 though it be, it is commended, with all its im- 
 perfections, to the Providence which is its 
 subject. 
 
 Its main positions will probably appear tru- 
 isms at first ; and yet they may surprise some 
 readers by their consequences. But this, it is 
 submitted, is no argument against their cor- 
 rectness. We underrate the scale of most 
 things, till we have to do with them in detail. 
 We only appreciate the extent of a Country by 
 travelling over it; and of a Truth by seeing 
 what it contains. A simple colossal form 
 strikes us at first as nothing extraordinary, till 
 we come near it, and walk round it, and take 
 in its measure by the eye and the mind ; and 
 then it starts into sublimity. 
 
V1 PREFACE. 
 
 In pursuing his subject, the author has 
 touched, of necessity, on some of the deep and 
 difficult topics to which Philosophy and Reli- 
 gion make a common claim. To discuss them 
 fully was foreign to his purpose. He has cer- 
 tainly felt it no part of his duty to adjudge the 
 disputed territory to the advocates of either 
 side exclusively. Religion and Philosophy 
 ought to have much in common. Religion 
 tells us of the Unseen, and Philosophy would 
 tell us of the Unknown. And these are surely 
 two spheres of thought which are far from 
 excluding each other. They meet in that vast 
 Infinite of which we see and know so little. 
 And as they have much of their subject in 
 common, they should have much of their 
 temper also. Neither will suffer by being asso- 
 ciated with the other in Awe, and Wonder, and 
 a free confession of Ignorance. 
 
 As Philosophy is a word which is apt to 
 alarm some readers, it may be well to add, that 
 the author believes the following pages to con- 
 tain nothing unintelligible to a person of ordi- 
 nary education. 
 
 Oxford, November, J 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chap, Page 
 
 I. — GOD THE WORKER .... I 
 
 II. — SPECIAL PROVIDENCE . . . 30 
 
 III. — DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES . 74 
 
 IV.— THE PURPOSES OF GOD . . 121 
 
DIALOGUES 
 
 ON 
 
 DIVINE PROVIDENCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 1~\0 you know, dear Reader, what it is to 
 **r witness an accident ? After experience of 
 both, I have no hesitation in saying, that in 
 this case Seeing is, at the time, far worse than 
 Suffering. You have the nervous shock without 
 the corresponding excitement. The mind and 
 heart labour ; but hand and foot are idle, or 
 uselessly active. The horse runs away ; or the 
 boat is hurried down the stream ; or the friendly 
 foot slips in a treacherous place : and you are 
 near enough to see that you cannot catch the 
 rein, or give a vigorous stroke with the oar, 
 or lend an upholding arm. Add to this, if you 
 would make the sad picture complete, the sense 
 of being the guilty cause of another's suffering, 
 or even the merest shade of responsibility. It 
 will then need no further touches. You may 
 
 B 
 
2 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 escape all physical pain, and run no risk of 
 serious consequences ; but, at the moment, the 
 shock is greater than that of a broken bone. 
 
 But I have no intention of beginning a quiet 
 book with a harrowing description. Let us pass 
 by the catastrophe, and suppose that the worst 
 is over. The sufferer, after a narrow escape 
 from still more serious injuries, if not from 
 death, lies ill up stairs, disabled for the time, 
 but in no danger, and with every prospect of a 
 speedy recovery. The house is more still than 
 usual. Voices are hushed insensibly ; and there 
 is a kind of muffled sound about the footsteps 
 of guest and servant. And Henry, with a mind 
 which probably takes its tone from his having 
 been a near spectator of the occurrence of the 
 morning, sits by the fire-side talking it over in 
 more than one of its aspects, and explaining 
 the details to Philip. 
 
 In good time, the narrative comes to an end; 
 all that can be said on that subject has been 
 said, and that fully. There is a pause, during 
 which narrator and hearer sit in quiet thought, 
 each gazing into the fire. At length Philip 
 breaks the silence once more. 
 
 . ' Well,' he said, ' it was, indeed, a narrow 
 escape; so narrow, that it is hard to see how 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 3 
 
 some far worse injury was avoided. I should 
 call it a clear interposition of Providence.' 
 
 Henry. And I, dear Philip, agree so fully 
 with your sentiment, that I do not like to 
 differ from your words. It was a narrow 
 escape, indeed. 
 
 Philip. And why not an interposition of Pro- 
 vidence as well? — for I suppose this must be 
 the phrase which does not please you. I used 
 it without any scruple; for it seems one of 
 those every-day expressions which mean little 
 enough nine times out of ten when they are 
 used, but have a deep meaning, because they rise 
 from a deep feeling, on the tenth. And I would 
 gladly think this a tithe instance. 
 
 H. No doubt it does express a great truth,' 
 but inaccurately. And, putting people in gene- 
 ral out of the question, I do not like you to be 
 inaccurate, even in a good cause, if you can 
 help it. 
 
 Ph. But where is the inaccuracy ? I own 
 that I do not see it at first sight. 
 
 H. You will be able, I think, to see it with- 
 out second sight. If at a certain stage of that 
 set of causes and effects, for the ultimate issue of 
 which we have so much reason to be thankful, 
 Providence interposed, what was Providence 
 
4 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 doing the moment before? Let us personify 
 her for a moment, not forgetting the deeper 
 personality which lies beneath the image. Was 
 she insensible of what was going on ? Or was 
 she conscious of the state of things all along, 
 but letting them take their course, till, at a 
 certain moment, she thought fit to interfere, 
 and put her hand to the wheel ? 
 
 Ph. The first supposition is evidently not to 
 be entertained for a single instant. Providence 
 means the foresight of God. To think of her 
 as ignorant of what was going on, would be to 
 doubt or deny His Omniscience. 
 
 H. And will not making her interfere at a 
 certain point amount to denying His Omnipo- 
 tence ? 
 
 Ph. I am not at all clear that it does, though 
 I think that I perceive a glimpse of your mean- 
 ing. But as you are the aggressor altogether, 
 attacking my very common-place language, and, 
 I dare say, equally common-place thought, I 
 shall not endeavour to make out your case. 
 You must be the speaker, I the listener. The 
 onus probandi rests with you. 
 
 H. I will try and bear the burden; and you 
 will, I know, be a friendly antagonist, and come 
 over to my side by degrees, if you should see 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 5 
 
 that the Truth is on my side before you. I will 
 put the case simply thus. To say that Provi- 
 dence interferes at a certain point, is much the 
 same thing as saying, that, at that point, God 
 begins to work. To say that He began to work 
 then, is equivalent to denying that He was 
 working before. To deny that He was working 
 before, is to create a number of agencies inde- 
 pendent of God ; or rather, if I may so speak, 
 to render them Rebels. They were His ser- 
 vants, and you make them figure as indepen- 
 dent potentates. 
 
 Ph. Clearly put, I allow ; but I am not 
 quite sure if conclusively. I do not feel quite 
 transfixed by the point of an epigram, or caught 
 on either horn of a dilemma. You shew me a 
 difficulty ; but, at the same time, I think I see 
 a way out of it. 
 
 H. Yet, perhaps, when you have gone a 
 little way along this road, you may find a bar 
 across it. But we will not anticipate any such 
 perplexity. Let me just see how you begin 
 your escape. 
 
 Ph. Oh, I might begin in several ways ! If 
 one will not serve my turn, it may be well to 
 try another. But to take the first and most 
 obvious. When I say that Providence inter- 
 
6 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 poses at a certain point, I may mean that God, 
 who has been working all along, changes at 
 this point the manner of His working. His 
 Power and Foresight present themselves in a 
 form, in which He appears to be emphatically 
 the agent. Before, their presence, though be- 
 lieved, might not be recognised. Now, they 
 shew themselves in a manner which almost 
 enforces belief. 
 
 H. I understand you in part, but not tho- 
 roughly. To speak very gravely, I do not wish 
 even to seem to press you in argument, and 
 make you first occupy doubtful positions, and 
 then evacuate them if you find them untenable. 
 But it is a subject of deep interest ; one which 
 has had much of my thought ; and two friendly 
 minds are better than one; and perhaps we 
 may be able, by sifting the meaning of current 
 words and phrases a little, to get a great truth 
 rather more clearly before us. 
 
 Ph. I hope so too; and if you are discuss- 
 ing words with that object, I think that I may 
 assure you I am in no great danger of misun- 
 derstanding you. We will both confess our 
 ignorance. You shall play Socrates ; and I 
 will do my best to help you. 
 
 H. I thank you very much : I take you at 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 7 
 
 your word, and proceed. One step we have 
 made together, which I have no reason to think 
 we shall have to repent. We have agreed to 
 consider God as the Worker. I believe this to 
 be the teaching of true philosophy as well as of 
 sound religion. It has its difficulties, indeed; 
 but those we can discuss hereafter. Putting 
 extraordinary cases aside, we shall be, no 
 doubt, right in saying that the world and all its 
 agencies would come to a stand, or be destroyed, 
 or disappear, or, in some way, cease as an exist- 
 ing and working dispensation, if God ceased to 
 work in it ; and that what is done in it, is done 
 by God. You agree to this, I suppose? 
 
 Ph. I should agree most fully, if it were 
 not that the old difficulty of all speculations 
 on the subject returns ; and I fear to make God 
 the Author of Evil and of Sin. 
 
 H. I do not think that the difficulty need 
 stand in your way in this case. It is one of 
 those intellectual puzzles which have vexed and 
 teased the world, but have not interfered with 
 its practical decision. Nay, it would not be a 
 difficulty at all, were it not for the presence, 
 face to face with it, of the Truth which I want 
 you to admit. Once allow that God is not the 
 Author of all things, and all questions about 
 
8 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 the origin of Evil disappear. You put it down 
 at once that that other Being, which, on the 
 system of dualism you adopt, is the cause of 
 those things which are not caused by God. It 
 is because we believe in the one Source of all 
 things, that the nature of evil perplexes us. So 
 please admit my Truth ; and you are at perfect 
 liberty to retain your difficulty. I wish I could 
 remove it at once ; but I cannot. 
 
 Ph. Your terms seem fair. I admit that 
 God is the Cause of all things. 
 
 H. Thank you ; and we will now return to 
 discuss your defence of the ordinary language 
 about the interference of Providence. We may 
 neither use exactly the same words as before ; 
 but the point at issue is clear enough. You 
 defend the phrase in question, on the ground 
 that it is applicable to cases in which the pro- 
 vidence of God appears, so to speak, visibly. 
 God, you allow, has been acting all along ; but 
 the manner of His working now seems to 
 change. His Power and Wisdom, which had 
 been concealed, or, at best, dimly visible to the 
 careless and unobservant eye, now break forth 
 from the cloud, and make themselves seen. 
 
 Ph. Exactly so. 
 
 H. But I must ask a little further explana- 
 
GOD THE WORKER. O, 
 
 tion still ; though without wishing you to speak 
 positively where all is mystery, or affect know- 
 ledge where you are conscious of ignorance. My 
 question is about the exact meaning of your 
 words. What is intended, when you say that 
 God's Power and Wisdom, which were before at 
 best dimly seen, make themselves visible ? Does 
 this imply some real change in the manner of 
 their operation, or not ? 
 
 Ph. I am afraid that I do not quite enter 
 enough into your difficulty, to understand your 
 question thoroughly. 
 
 H. Well, I will try my hand at an illustra- 
 tion. The sun is behind the clouds, and in- 
 visible. We see his reflected and refracted 
 light, but his orb is hidden : suddenly, the 
 clouds give way, and the king of day appears. 
 Will you admit this to be a parallel ? The sun, 
 you will observe, puts forth no new powers ; 
 only those which he was previously exerting, but 
 in a more direct way than before. Is this all 
 that you mean, when you explain such phrases 
 as ' the interposition of Providence' by saying 
 that God, on these occasions, exerts His Power 
 in a new manner ? 
 
 Ph. I had rather not pledge myself on the 
 point. Will it not do equally well , if we con- 
 
10 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 sider what will follow : first, if I grant this ; and 
 next, if I refuse to grant it ? 
 
 H. It probably will ; and I will begin by 
 supposing you to admit my analogy. In that 
 case, there will be no real alteration in the man- 
 ner of God's working at all. The change is 
 purely, as people say now-a-days, subjective. We 
 see things differently ; the impression on the 
 eye or the mind is changed ; the medium which 
 is interposed between us and the great Object 
 of thought and sight is changed ; but the Object 
 itself is wholly unaltered. The sun has all 
 along been beaming with undiminished bright- 
 ness, though its rays fell not upon us. 
 
 Ph. It seems so ; and what then ? 
 
 H. Only this : it is a popular and incorrect 
 expression to say, ' Providence interposes'; just 
 as it is a popular and incorrect expression to 
 say, ' The sun begins to shine.' God has been 
 always working, and the sun has been always 
 shining. 
 
 Ph. Well, the expression may be popular 
 and incorrect, and yet it may be desirable to 
 retain it. I shall be well content if it is prac- 
 tically as true to say, ' Providence interfered to 
 prevent a graver injury yesterday/ as it is to 
 say, c The sun began to shine at ten o'clock this 
 morning.' 
 
GOD THE WORKER. II 
 
 H. If you really think so on reflection, there 
 is no question between us, except that of a word 
 which it is scarcely worth while discussing. If 
 you allow that God's care, and love, and guid- 
 ance, were as truly and fully exercised the mo- 
 ment before the accident, as they were the 
 moment after, I agree, and have no more 
 to say. 
 
 Ph. Why, really, I do not quite see my way. 
 I am not quite sure that I do agree so thorough- 
 ly. The phrase would, I think, be defensible if 
 you had expressed my opinion exactly. But my 
 judgment is still in suspense. My feelings, if 
 not my reason, incline to the other alternative. 
 May we see what will follow if I do not accept 
 your analogy? Perhaps, on an occasion like 
 that which we are both thinking of, God does 
 work in a different way from that of his ordi- 
 nary operations. Do you think you can shew 
 that He does not ? 
 
 H. I want your opinion on the subject as 
 well as my own. Your new view tends, I sus- 
 pect, to at least one startling consequence; you 
 will have to increase the number of miracles 
 greatly. 
 
 Ph. How so? 
 
 H. It is my place rather to ask a question. 
 
12 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 If, by an interposition of Providence, you mean 
 that God changes the manner of His working, 
 how can you distinguish between such an inter- 
 position and a miracle ? 
 
 Ph. Dear me ! it is really not fair to lead me 
 off into a question of that kind. Once let us 
 get into the philosophy of miracles, and our real 
 subject is shelved indefinitely. Will it content 
 you, if I at once admit that I can have nothing 
 to do with miracles at present ? Whatever the 
 agency of God is on the occasions in question, 
 it is not miraculous. The general laws by 
 which He governs the world are not superseded; 
 it is, somehow, through these general laws that 
 He works, and not in spite of them. 
 
 H. I quite agree with you ; but it is a sub- 
 ject on which it is well to be clear. And people 
 do not always speak, even if they think, clearly 
 about it. I heard a clergyman, a little time 
 ago, speak of a narrow escape as a ' miraculous 
 interference/ We were comparatively strangers, 
 and it was a mixed company ; so there was no 
 opportunity of asking him what the miracle 
 was, and in what the interference consisted. 
 
 Ph. I should be bound, of course, to con- 
 sider these two questions unfair in any case; 
 not that I should quite like using the expression 
 myself. 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 1 3 
 
 H. But I did not mention miracles without 
 a reason. Indeed, even after your admission, I 
 must say something more about them. I cannot 
 help thinking they have more to do with our 
 subject than you are* aware of. When you 
 speak of the interposition of Providence, and 
 incline to suppose an unusual agency of God on 
 these occasions, you have, if I may so speak, 
 the miraculous type before you. A miracle, 
 you argue unconsciously, is an occasion on 
 wjiich God supersedes general laws. An inter- 
 position of Providence is something of the same 
 kind, though short of a miracle. God works in 
 a way which is not His ordinary way, although, 
 as there is no interruption of the ordinary laws 
 of nature, it would not be right to call it 
 miraculous. 
 
 Ph. Perhaps you are right. If I have not 
 used the line of thought which you describe, I 
 feel disposed to use it, and to thank you for it. 
 It seems to me true and valuable. At any rate, 
 the analogy helps me. Extraordinary interpo- 
 sitions of Providence are like miracles, without 
 being miracles. 
 
 H. I quite allow it, and readily accept the 
 analogy. But how these matters mix them- 
 selves up ! It is a case of Scylla and Charybdis. 
 
14 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 You did not wish to discuss miracles; and, 
 somehow, we are on the verge of another sub- 
 ject, about which the tale is nearly as long, and 
 to which we are now so close, that we cannot 
 help entering into it. 
 
 Ph. What is that? 
 
 H. Why, on reflection, I see that we have 
 spoken more than once about general laws, 
 laws of nature, and so on. We have spoken of 
 miracles as superseding them, interfering with 
 them, suspending them, or something of the 
 kind. 
 
 Ph. We have, undoubtedly ; and I hope we 
 have not done wrong in doing so. It is a very 
 common way of speaking, and, I think, a right 
 one. 
 
 H. Very possibly it is ; but, at present, I do 
 not trouble myself about verbs or prepositions, 
 but only about substantives and adjectives. Till 
 I know what a general law is, it is idle to talk 
 about superseding or suspending it. 
 
 Ph. Very true ; and yet I do not feel at all 
 in a position to define general laws, or laws of 
 nature, which mean, I suppose, the same thing. 
 I know that they imply a certain uniformity 
 in the succession of phenomena — that like 
 causes produce like effects — and so on. But I 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 1 5 
 
 should not like to say that I know anything 
 more about them. 
 
 H. Does any one know anything more about 
 them? 
 
 Ph. I should have supposed so. 
 
 H. I am not sure that you would be right 
 in the supposition. Take a particular instance; 
 — the law of gravitation will do as well as any. 
 1 The attraction of matter is directly as its mass, 
 and inversely as the square of its distance/ 
 That is right, is it not ? 
 
 Ph. I really don't know ; but as we are not 
 physical philosophers, it does not, for our pur- 
 pose, greatly matter if it is wrong : make it 
 right for the occasion. What use do you 
 intend to put it to ? 
 
 H. It may stand, I suppose, for a very fair 
 example of general laws. It is general enough, 
 of all conscience, applying as it does to all 
 forms of matter, and regulating the fall of a 
 pin as well as the motion of a planet. It is 
 precise enough, if astronomers can weigh the 
 earth, as they affirm, and Adams and Le Ver- 
 rier are not simple impostors. Moreover, every 
 one has heard of it ; and the facts to which it 
 applies, come home to the experience of us all. 
 So it may stand, I think, as a fair sample of a 
 law of nature. 
 
l6- GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 Ph. Agreed ; and I will go further, and take 
 it on faith that it is as you say. For the next 
 half hour, if necessary, all your formula about 
 matter and mass, and directly and inversely, 
 and distance, shall be admitted as true. 
 
 H. Thank you for your kindness ; and now 
 just tell me the virtue of the formula. This is 
 your general law. How does it work ? 
 
 Ph. You ask a question which I do not 
 pretend to answer. That it does work, is clear 
 enough ; how it works, appears not. 
 
 H. Have you really no theory on the sub- 
 ject ? Are you not prepared with any view of 
 the mystical power of numbers ? Not that this 
 would be quite satisfactory ; for, if that were 
 admitted, you would still have to shew how 
 they gained that power. Besides, such ideas are 
 out of fashion just now. What do you say to 
 adopting Sir Isaac Newton's own view, that 
 Gravity works by means of some imperceptible 
 aether ? 
 
 Ph. It would be only the numbers over 
 again. If you granted it, or I could prove it, I 
 should still have to shew how the aether worked. 
 And if that were explained, my explanation 
 would have to be explained once more. 
 
 H. There is something in that; and I do 
 
GOD THE WORKER. '17 
 
 not see how you can avoid the conclusion to 
 which you are pointing. It is no explanation of 
 the nature of a law, to discover that it depends 
 on another law. You defer, but you do not 
 destroy the difficulty. If the earth rests on a 
 tortoise, on what does the tortoise rest? All 
 our discoveries of the connection and depen- 
 dence of the laws of nature, may tend to sim- 
 plify their relation, and reduce their number; 
 but they do not help us at all to discover what, 
 in itself, a law is. 
 
 Ph. So, indeed, it seems. 
 
 H. And if this be so, my dear Philip, what 
 do we know of the laws of nature more than 
 you began by saying ? They express a certain 
 uniformity in nature ; they assure us that the 
 same cause will be followed by the same effect. 
 But why this uniformity exists, why there is 
 this connection between cause and effect, nei- 
 ther they can tell us, nor can any one tell us of 
 them. Ask a physical philosopher, and he will 
 inform you, that if he says that gravitation is a 
 natural law, he only means that all bodies gra- 
 vitate toward each other. And so in whatever 
 other case you please. Talk of gravitation, 
 crystallisation, the laws of light, of heat, of 
 sound; take whatever province of science you 
 c 
 
1 8 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 prefer; and you will find that laws are only the 
 summaries of the ultimate facts of nature — 
 statements with regard to phenomena, which 
 are called laws, because they hold good in all 
 instances, and in all times and places. 
 
 Ph. I am disposed to think you are right. 
 If so, what follows? 
 
 H. Only this : it is a mere figure of speech 
 to say, that God acts through laws. The expres- 
 sion conveys to the mind an idea of a medium 
 interposed between the Worker and His work. 
 But the nature of general laws, if we have taken 
 a just view of them, justifies no such idea. If 
 we explain the expression, it comes simply to 
 this — there is an uniformity in God's works. 
 On the same occasions, He acts in the same way. 
 
 Ph. I am interested in your way of treating 
 the subject. Let us see how it meets a diffi- 
 culty. Miracles are spoken of as an exception 
 to general laws. Would you say, they are an 
 exception to the uniformity of God's works? 
 That would be doubtful praise. 
 
 H. I should say no such thing. Observe how 
 I stated that uniformity. On the same occa- 
 sions, God acts in the same way. But miracles 
 occur on extraordinary occasions, on which 
 God acts in an extraordinary way. 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 1 9 
 
 Ph. I perceive your meaning. Would you 
 not say, that miracles were for this reason in 
 accordance with the analogy of God's dealings ? 
 The manifestation of His power, if I may so 
 speak, rises with the occasion. 
 
 H. Yes, my dear Philip ; so that if you will 
 speak of general laws, you might say that mira- 
 cles, far from breaking general laws, observe 
 them. Any great change in the established 
 order of things, leads to a great change in phe- 
 nomena. A new element is introduced, and 
 has new consequences. As God reveals new 
 aspects of His Will, no wonder if He reveals 
 new aspects of His Power. And so miracles 
 obey laws, and do not break them. They belong 
 to the uniformity of God's dealings, and are no 
 exception to that uniformity. 
 
 Ph. Am I not on somewhat familiar ground 
 here ? The thought strikes me as an old friend. 
 
 H. Well, I believe I have been poaching a 
 little on Butler's Analogy. Let me give you 
 an illustration which I believe is my own. 
 Do you remember a place on the Seine, called 
 Barre-y-va ? 
 
 Ph. I think I remember the name, which is 
 odd-sounding enough. What happened there ? 
 I have never heard it mentioned in connection 
 
20 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 with miracles. It is quite out of the range of 
 Port-Royal and the Holy Thorn. 
 
 H. Very true; and I know just as little 
 what ever happened there as you do. But you 
 know what the name means ? 
 
 Ph. Indeed I do not. Does any one else? 
 I should think it doubtful. 
 
 H. Why, they say it means that the great 
 tidal wave, which they call the ' Bore* on the 
 Wye, comes up the Seine occasionally as far as 
 the town or village in question. I cannot tell 
 what put it into my head, that, as I was some 
 two years since passing this place with the odd 
 name in a steamboat, I should just then be 
 thinking of miracles, and should press the name 
 into my service. I thought there might be pos- 
 sibly some quiet old man living in a cottage on 
 the river-bank just there, who had looked out 
 often enough on the stream before him to be 
 tolerably sure that its waters, except when dis- 
 turbed by the storm, kept their own level. He 
 would see them rise and fall with the tide, it is 
 true ; but they would do so evenly and mono- 
 tonously, sinking and swelling by imperceptible 
 degrees, and raising their whole surface without 
 disturbing it. So he might think that he had 
 attained to a general truth upon the subject ; 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 21 
 
 till some gusty morning the bore came rolling 
 up almost to his door, knocking the fishing- 
 boats against each other, which were high and 
 dry the moment before, and tossing about all 
 the craft which were afloat like so many walnut- 
 shells. And then he might incline to suspend or 
 reverse his judgment. Yet really the great 
 rushing wave would be no exception to his rule. 
 If he knew enough of the subject, he would see 
 in this apparent irregularity only a proof how 
 widely the law extended. Strange and excep- 
 tional as it seemed, it only occurred because 
 the mighty and stormy ocean, of which he was 
 ignorant, was moved and governed by the same 
 laws as the tranquil river which he knew. 
 
 Ph. Thank you for the illustration. I should 
 be well content, for my own part, to be the 
 quiet old man, living on the bank of the gentle 
 river, enjoying the perfect calm at one time, 
 at another, the ripple of its waters, and watch- 
 ing with a peaceful interest the changing skies 
 above them. His life would not be without a 
 tranquil diversity of events, if his mind reflected 
 them as truly as the river before him, even 
 when too troubled to return exact reflections, 
 would repeat the general tone of the varied 
 clouds which float over it. Perhaps it shows 
 
22 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 only too passive a temperament that I should 
 not wish the bore to come up very often, in 
 order that I might speculate on its nature. But 
 where are we going meanwhile? I am afraid 
 that we shall find ourselves lodged by the tidal 
 wave at some considerable distance from our 
 subject. We were to keep clear of miracles; 
 but somehow, here we are, drawing pretty pic- 
 tures about them, and in danger of indefinite 
 digressions. 
 
 H. I must own that there seems good need 
 for your warning. We have been like school- 
 boys at play, forgetting how far we are from 
 home. It will be best to find out where we are 
 at once. Perhaps we have been going in a 
 circle round the same point, and may not be so 
 very far from our destination after all. Where 
 are we now ? In spite of our original resolution, 
 we have been talking but now about miracles, 
 have we not ? 
 
 Ph. Undoubtedly. 
 
 H. And we incline on the whole, I think, 
 to consider miracles as really no exception to 
 general laws ? 
 
 Ph. Yes, I incline to that view. It does not 
 seem to me that we have proved it, I must own. 
 But we must conform to the necessity of dis- 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 23 
 
 cussions like the present — be content, that is 
 with something as near proof as we can get on 
 the main points in question, and submit to re- 
 ceive what is merely a general probability on 
 many questions, which, however important, are 
 not those really at issue. So I will not insist on 
 miracles as showing some extraordinary manner 
 of working on the part of God. 
 
 H. Ah ! I see we are very near home, in- 
 deed. Or am I wrong in my impression of the 
 point from which we started? Were we not 
 considering whether the nature of miracles sup- 
 plied an analogy, which favoured the idea that 
 God worked at one time in a different way from 
 that in which He worked at another ? 
 
 Ph. We certainly were; and unless I re- 
 tract what I just now admitted, all such analo- 
 gies, 1 must own, break down. 
 
 H. Yes ; or rather tell the other way. The 
 analogy of miracles is against, instead of being 
 for, what we called providential interposition. 
 
 Ph. I allow it seems so; but I am driven 
 from my first position much against my will; 
 and I warn you that I am full of objections, 
 and may return to my old mind at any mo- 
 ment, if only I can find a sufficient reason. 
 
 H. Let the objections come in their time ; 
 
24 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 and the reasons too, if they can be found. 
 Meanwhile, are you disposed to allow, that as 
 yet no case has been made out for the excep- 
 tional nature of these providential interpositions 
 — that they are not miraculous, and that, if 
 they were, this would not suffice to prove them 
 really exceptions to general laws — and that, so 
 far as we have seen, in moments of rest and of 
 excitement, in peace and in danger, when life 
 seems safe or almost gone, however different 
 the feelings of the creature, the work of the 
 Creator is one ? 
 
 Ph. Yes, I submit provisionally, but with 
 many misgivings. I seem departing from the 
 region of life and light, and feeling those 
 wretched mechanical general laws, reaching out 
 their long cold fingers like so many ghosts, and 
 pulling me about at their pleasure. 
 
 H. Do not be uneasy on that account, I beg. 
 It has escaped my memory which of us raised 
 these terrible general laws ; but I thought that 
 I had done something towards laying them. It 
 is with them, probably, as with ghosts — our 
 imagination gives them their being. If we are 
 only bold enough before them, they become 
 something ordinary enough. At any rate, if 
 they are realities, they are God's creatures, and 
 only do His pleasure. 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 25 
 
 Ph. But I do not know that the case is 
 mended if you put general laws out of the ques- 
 tion. Your view of the subject, if it disposes 
 of them, has produced perplexities of its own. 
 The fairer and more loveable features of God's 
 government are scarcely seen. We have said 
 next to nothing of His wisdom ; we have barely 
 mentioned His love. I am weighed down in a 
 manner I cannot well express, by a sad dreary 
 sense of 'Power. 
 
 H. And is not this because we have been 
 talking almost exclusively of power, or else of 
 action, which is only power exerted ? I admit 
 most fully that, taken by itself, this would be a 
 most sad and miserable view of our subject. 
 There is something quite awful in the idea of 
 power, when not associated with moral attri- 
 butes. It has a painful fascination of its own ; 
 you would turn away from it, but you cannot. 
 It seems as if it might be the character of some 
 mighty race of beings, with which we are wholly 
 unacquainted, and. with which, upon acquaint- 
 ance, we could have no sympathy whatever. 
 It goes its way, animated by some law which 
 we cannot understand, and irrespective of all 
 conditions foreign to itself. It has no human 
 weaknesses even of a bad kind. We cannot 
 
26 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 calculate its results; but it works with a steady 
 uniform motion, quite unlike caprice. Its very 
 regularity and perfection are unamiable. It 
 is more frigid and repelling than any force 
 or set of forces which we find in operation in 
 nature. The wind, the storm, the lightning, 
 the mighty ocean, if neither reason nor religion 
 has taught us to associate them with a per- 
 sonality higher than themselves, gain, never- 
 theless, something like a moral being from the 
 imagination. We poetise and dream about them, 
 till they half become persons. We allow our 
 passions and our feelings to be reflected on and 
 in them, till they retain something of their 
 tinge, by a kind of right of their own. No ; 
 I know nothing in nature so coldly and nega- 
 tively forbidding as the mere intellectual idea 
 of Power. 
 
 Ph. Do you know anything in art, if not in 
 nature? Let me try my hand at a comparison; 
 for it is my turn. I have watched more than 
 once, in a kind of dreamy wonder, the piston- 
 rod of the engine of some sea-going steamer, as 
 it played up and down in calm monotony, as if 
 there were no effort in its motions, and no re- 
 sistance. The cross-beam at its top rises up to 
 the skylight, and then turns back as if it were 
 
GOD THE WORKER. 2J 
 
 not worth its while to break it. It sinks to the 
 cylinder, and after a pause comes slowly up 
 again, as if it had meditated going lower down, 
 but on reflection would not make the attempt. 
 Its smooth, polished surface, though hot enough, 
 I dare say, to the touch, looks coldly lustrous, 
 and innocent of all unpleasant friction. There 
 is no variety in its beat, no noise in its motion ; 
 yet all the while, wood and iron and cordage 
 are creaking around it from the force with 
 which it is driving the vessel through the water, 
 and scattering the foam from its bows. It is 
 going safe into harbour, or on to an unseen 
 rock. Children are playing on the deck ; or 
 invalids lying ill ; or even people dying below : 
 but still that calm, steady, propelling pulse goes 
 on, in pure indifference whom it is carrying, or 
 why, or whither. 
 
 H. A true picture enough of a certain aspect 
 of a steam-engine, and other things besides. 
 But the comfort is, as we were saying, that it is 
 only a certain aspect ; and that there are other 
 ways of regarding things, which are, to say the 
 least, quite as true, and much more satisfactory. 
 Even your steam-boat may be read off very dif- 
 ferently. Your emblem of power is dependent 
 on the services of the stoker for the time being, 
 
28 GOD THE WORKER. 
 
 and absolutely at the disposal of a small biped, 
 who walks about calmly enough just above the 
 sweep of the mighty wheels which it moves, one 
 dash of which Avould disperse him in shivers. 
 And, on the whole, the machinery does what is 
 most agreeable to the parties concerned. Steam- 
 boats do not go against the wishes of their pas- 
 sengers. The Moral triumphs over the Physical 
 here, as elsewhere. 
 
 Ph. And no doubt the great ship of the 
 world sails through space under infinitely wiser 
 guidance than any of the tiny craft and diminu- 
 tive crews which, in her revolutions, she carries 
 round with her on her surface. I did not doubt 
 this for a moment ; but I felt that the ideas of 
 power and activity, as exhibited in the govern- 
 ment of the world, might be made so prominent 
 as to throw into the background more than one 
 truth far dearer to the heart ; and I feared that 
 you were doing something of the kind. But 
 you have confessed that your view was one- 
 sided, and that you are Avilling to supply the 
 missing side, and restore the balance of propor- 
 tion ; and I only want you to proceed. 
 
 H. In good time ; but not to-night. It is 
 full late to open up a new subject. Besides, we 
 have had an exciting and tiring day; and mind 
 
GOD THE AVOEKEE. 20, 
 
 and body will each be the better for repose, 
 We have left so many odd ends of thought un- 
 finished, that we shall have no difficulty in 
 joining on a new web, whenever the mood 
 comes. And so, for the present, let us bid 
 speculation good-bye. 
 
30 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 A FEW days had elapsed since the last 
 -*-*- conversation, without its being renewed. 
 Meanwhile, Eliza (for you must learn, gentle 
 reader, by degrees, to know more of the dra- 
 matis persona) was quite convalescent. She was 
 a little paler, and perhaps a shade thinner, 
 than usual ; and, as a matter of prudence, was 
 on the sofa as much as was convenient. But 
 she was no longer a prisoner, and took her 
 usual place in the family. If there was any 
 difference of manner, she was rather more 
 thoughtful and silent. 
 
 The first evening that Philip and Henry 
 found themselves alone in her company, their 
 thoughts naturally recurred to their last con- 
 versation, as well as to the events which had 
 led to it. And, somehow, by that strange in- 
 stinct which works in all cultivated minds of 
 any natural delicacy, each felt what the other 
 was wishing to talk of, without exactly knowing 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 3 1 
 
 how to begin. Eliza's presence certainly did 
 not simplify the matter. Her face, and move- 
 men t, and manner, still bore some traces of late 
 events. Neither Philip nor Henry quite liked 
 to say, ' Eliza, we are going to have out a talk 
 which was suggested by your accident,' espe- 
 cially when one of them did not feel himself 
 quite innocent when he thought of it. Yet Eliza 
 was not much disposed to continued talk, and 
 they were, and on that subject in particular. 
 So Henry took heart of grace, and began. 
 
 H. You must know, dear Eliza, that we are 
 on the brink of starting an argument, which, if 
 it does not interest you, will infallibly send you 
 to sleep. What do you say to so dreadful an 
 alternative ? 
 
 Eliza. I do not think it a very dreadful 
 alternative; and I know which is most likely 
 to happen. It is very pleasant to listen quietly 
 to a friendly argument; and I shall probably do 
 so most patiently. So you must not take si- 
 lence for sleepiness or weariness, or anything 
 else but attention. 
 
 H. But you do not know the worst yet ; we 
 are going to talk about you. 
 
 E. Indeed ! That is not a very interesting 
 subject. But I may still learn something by 
 
32 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 listening (you see I do not intend to be driven 
 up stairs); and I will try to behave well, and 
 take any hints you may give me. 
 
 H. I see that if you are not curious already, 
 you are not to be provoked into curiosity. 
 Well, I must tell you, your accident of the other 
 day set us, when you were quietly in bed, argu- 
 ing about Providence. 
 
 E. I should have thought it rather a sub- 
 ject for faith than for argument. 
 
 H. True, dearest Eliza; but you do not 
 allow for the weaknesses of us poor men, who 
 are reasoners by education, if not by nature. 
 We cannot trust our instincts, as you can. Our 
 argument, I assure you, was not intended to 
 exclude belief. We argued first, that we might 
 believe afterwards. 
 
 E. Was that beginning at the right end ? 
 
 H. Now, pray do not try, by your innocent- 
 looking little questions, to make us seem like 
 infidels. I must be more precise, or you will 
 catch me in some other way. We began by 
 fully believing God's good Providence; but, 
 somehow, questions arose on the subject, and 
 then we took to arguing. But you will probably 
 have reached our conclusion before us by a 
 process of your own. How should you say that 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 33 
 
 we ought to regard all accidents, and chances, 
 and whatever we sometimes call fortune ? 
 
 E. I hope you will not call me a fatalist if 
 I trust to my instinct and say, they happen 
 because it is the Will of God. He sends them 
 for some good purpose. Was this your con- 
 clusion ? 
 
 H. Not quite ; we concluded that they hap- 
 pen because they are the work of God, and 
 proceed in some way from His Power. 
 
 E. Perhaps it is sad ignorance ; but I pre- 
 fer my own expression to yours. It is more 
 natural, and, I think, more religious. 
 
 Ph. Yes ; and I ought to confess 
 
 H. For shame, Philip; you gave me your 
 allegiance a few short days ago, and you are 
 now taking the very first opportunity of desert- 
 ing. I shall be the victim of a coalition. 
 
 Ph. I gave you full warning that my loyalty 
 was not to be depended on. For once, I am in 
 a fair way to advocate the divine right of rebel- 
 lion ; and I here protest and declare, that if I 
 am obliged to choose between Eliza's formula 
 and yours, I shall be a deserter on principle. 
 
 H. Very well ; but remember the virtues of 
 if. It is the only peace-maker, as Touchstone 
 says. If you are not obliged to choose between 
 
 D 
 
34 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Eliza and myself, will you still have a fair 
 pretext for rebellion ? 
 
 Ph. Perhaps not. 
 
 H. Then I may hope to retain a subject. 
 You will not have to choose between Eliza and 
 me. Our positions are perfectly consistent. 
 Do not you think so, Eliza ? 
 
 E. Yes, if you value my opinion. The 
 Power of God is quite consistent, of course, with 
 His Wisdom and Goodness. But I would sooner 
 let my thoughts dwell on His Wisdom and Good- 
 ness than on His Power. 
 
 Ph. Yes ; that is exactly what I said the 
 other day, when Henry was insisting so exclu- 
 sively on the Power of God. I did not like 
 His attributes to be separated in idea, as they 
 cannot be in fact. 
 
 H. But you should remember that we 
 agreed to speak of His Wisdom and Goodness 
 in their turn. Surely, in considering a great 
 subject, we may consider one of its aspects at a 
 time. We are in danger of dwarfing it to the 
 standard of our own minds, if we endeavour to 
 take it all in at a single glance. 
 
 E. Very true ; but I wish you had begun 
 with Goodness. And yet I do not, for I shall 
 hope to hear you talk of it now ; and I have 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 35 
 
 missed only what is of less interest for 
 me. 
 
 Ph. And I hope that Henry will carry out 
 his views as fully with regard to God's Wisdom 
 and Goodness, as he did with regard to His 
 Power. 
 
 H. I will do my best; though, somehow, 
 the frais de conversation seems falling rather 
 too exclusively on me, and I am not quite a fit 
 psrson to bear it. Besides, we seem agreed on 
 the subject ; and, in that case, there is more 
 matter for thought and feeling than for con- 
 versation, and scarcely any room for argument. 
 I admit and, I hope, feel, that God is all-wise 
 and all-good, as well as all-powerful. I believe 
 that He knows every thing, and orders every 
 thing for good, as well as does every thing. 
 As Eliza said, there is more room for faith and 
 love than for argument. 
 
 Ph. It is my turn to complain of a coalition 
 now. But, seriously, I shall not be quite satis- 
 fied if things go off in this way. We have had 
 a partial argument, and it is not fair to leave 
 off in the middle. Besides, in the retrospect, I 
 see clearly enough that a good deal of thought 
 and reflection may be elicited from the contact 
 of friendly minds, which seem to differ even 
 
36 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 when they really agree. I wish the process to 
 be repeated on another subject. We have been 
 dwelling not long ago on what we agree to be 
 the least attractive phase of a great truth 
 together. Why should we be left to think over 
 its more engaging features alone ? 
 
 H. Why, indeed ? I have no wish that we 
 should. But you see my difficulty. Feelings 
 which we have in common do not need elabo- 
 rate expression. We know each other's hearts 
 by sympathy. If we are to converse, there 
 must be a shade of doubt or difference in some 
 way, a connection to trace, a question to answer, 
 a difficulty to solve. Find these, and we shall 
 find matter enough. 
 
 Ph. If that is what is necessary, I am almost 
 more able to start the conversation than I 
 could wish. I have had a great difficulty rising 
 to my lips several times already, but I sup- 
 pressed it, that I might not seem to check the 
 flow of thought. If its production will unlock 
 these secret springs, my scruples are gone, and 
 I shall be glad to state it, and, if possible, to 
 have it solved. 
 
 H. Well, produce it, and see what we do 
 among us. 
 
 Ph. I am afraid it will sound rather shock- 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 37 
 
 ing ; but you will not willingly misunderstand 
 me. Of course, I do not question for a moment 
 the practical working of Divine Providence. 
 My perplexity is speculative. I do not see how 
 we can reconcile, as theoretical statements, the 
 two positions which you and Eliza agree to be 
 tenable together — things happen because they 
 are the Work of God, and proceed from His 
 Power; and things happen because they are 
 the Will of God, and are sent for some good 
 purpose. 
 
 E. Oh, Philip! 
 
 Ph. Now give me a fair hearing, Eliza; and 
 remember that I have no doubt about the fact, 
 though I may see, or think I see, a difficulty in 
 theory. But, first of all, let me get your po- 
 sitions as clear as I can. Am I right, Henry, 
 in understanding you to mean, that we are 
 right in regarding every circumstance of life, 
 which affects us from without and tells on our 
 individuality, as a work of God's Power? 
 
 H. Undoubtedly. 
 
 Ph. And you, Eliza, mean that we are right 
 in regarding every such circumstance as sent 
 for some good purpose, according to God's 
 Will? 
 
 E. Undoubtedly. And I do not see the 
 
3^ SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 least shade of opposition between us. Surely it 
 is right to say that God does what He wills — 
 
 H. And wills what He does. 
 
 Ph. Yes, it is right, no doubt. And I feel 
 that I shall have some trouble in bringing my 
 difficulty fairly before you, to say nothing of the 
 ungraciousness of producing difficulties at all on 
 such a subject. But I really want it removed ; 
 and it cannot be removed till it is made more 
 definite, and laid before you : and that must 
 be my apology. I begin my case by falling 
 back upon an old position, and debating a little 
 about general laws. 
 
 H. Why, I thought we had done with them. 
 
 Ph. Not quite. Since our last conversation 
 I have thought over all that was said about 
 them in the course of the evening; and all 
 seemed to me, on reflection, to tend one way 
 with regard to them. You were not disposed 
 to allow, that what I called Interpositions of 
 Providence, or even miracles themselves, were 
 any exceptions to them. And I was convinced 
 that you were right, though half against my 
 will. In the retrospect, 1 see no reason to dis- 
 sent from our former conclusions. Whatever 
 feeling may say, reason points to the stern 
 fixedness and uniformity of general laws. 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 39 
 
 H. I agree to the fixedness and uniformity, 
 though not to the sternness. But you will 
 withdraw that expression, no doubt. At any 
 rate, it is not material. I admit the truth of 
 what you say, and ask — what then ? 
 
 Ph. You puzzle me by yielding so much. 
 I expected you to meet me by something like a 
 denial of the existence of general laws ; and on 
 that ground I thought we should join issue. 
 
 H. It is hard to remember one's exact 
 words ; but I never meant to deny the existence 
 of general laws, though I objected strongly to 
 a certain way of conceiving them. People often 
 talk as if they had a power of their own, apart 
 from God. It is a view sufficiently obvious, 
 and just enough redeemed from the charge of 
 the merest shallowness to make it dangerous. 
 So I intended to speak strongly against any 
 supposed agency of general laws, independent 
 of the working of God. If I said more than 
 that, I retract. 
 
 Ph. Will you allow, then, the expression, 
 that God works through general laws ? 
 
 H. Very willingly; provided always that 
 this is not taken to mean that general laws 
 work without God. 
 
 Ph. Which, of course, I shall never mean 
 
40 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 for a moment. Well then, there is no differ- 
 ence between us on this point. You give in 
 your adhesion to the ordinary phraseology 
 about general laws, subject to a very necessary 
 qualification. I wish you would do the same 
 with miracles. Does it not startle you, Eliza, 
 to hear that Henry is not disposed to allow 
 that miracles are exceptions to general laws ? 
 
 E. Oh ! I have been quite beyond my depth 
 for a long time. You must let me listen with- 
 out judging at all. If I did form a judgment, 
 I should certainly think Henry's a very start- 
 ling position indeed. 
 
 H. Not, I think, if you heard my explana- 
 tion. I admit that miracles are apparent 
 exceptions to one set of general laws; but I 
 think, at the same time, that there are strong 
 indications that they, too, obey general laws of 
 their own. 
 
 E. If that is an explanation meant for me, 
 I must own I do not understand it. 
 
 H. Perhaps an illustration will come to my 
 aid. We were talking the other day about the 
 law of gravity. You know what that is, Eliza ? 
 
 E. I believe so — that which makes heavy 
 things fall. 
 
 H. Very well ; it makes, for instance, heavy 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 41 
 
 particles in water, if only they are heavier than 
 the water itself, sink to the bottom. 
 
 E. Yes. 
 
 H. Well, I remember, some years ago, see- 
 ing a water-pipe at Oxford, where there is 
 much lime in the water, half-filled up with a 
 deposit of carbonate of lime. It ought, accord- 
 ing to . the law of gravity, to have all gone to 
 the bottom ; but, in fact, it was so evenly dis- 
 tributed on the surface of the pipe, that you 
 could not tell which had been bottom and which 
 top. Would you call this a miracle ? 
 
 E. Certainly not. I do not know how to 
 express myself; but I suppose there was some 
 other principle or power at work, which su- 
 perseded for the time the action of the law of 
 gravity. 
 
 H. Quite so ; crystallisation proved stronger 
 than gravity for the nonce, just as magnetism 
 is stronger than gravity, when the needle leaps 
 up to the magnet, instead of lying quietly on 
 the table. 
 
 E, But you would not call these miracles ? 
 
 H. No ; because magnetism and crystallis- 
 ation belong to the established system of 
 things, and blend themselves with our work- 
 day world. But if, during some period of great 
 
42 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 moral and religious transition, a mighty teacher 
 made the needle point eastward (as once the 
 shadow on the dial ran back), or altered, for 
 the space of one year, the form of all crystals of 
 carbonate of lime, this I should call a miracle. 
 
 E. Yes ; and reasonably. 
 
 H. And yet he might only call into play 
 certain laws, which stand on certain occasions 
 above crystallisation and magnetism, just as 
 crystallisation and magnetism stand, at times, 
 above gravity. 
 
 E. Very true. Or do you see any objection 
 to this, Philip ? 
 
 Ph. No, indeed : but Henry did not ex- 
 pand his thought so fully before. 
 
 H. I did not think it necessary. It is one 
 advantage of talking to a thoroughly educated 
 person (excuse my rudeness, Eliza, but you 
 do not profess to have grappled with abstract 
 ideas), that one is not obliged to pull out one's 
 thoughts like a telescope, in order that they 
 may be seen through. 
 
 E. Thank you for the compliment. But 
 pray pull out your thought a little more. I am 
 not quite sure that you have caught my focus. 
 What are these higher laws, which, in the case 
 of miracles, you suppose to control the lower ? 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 43 
 
 H. I do not know. If I did, miracles would 
 to me cease to be miracles. There would still 
 be a region of the miraculous ; but it would be 
 removed yet further from ordinary observation. 
 At present, all that I think I can say about the 
 laws to which miracles conform, is that they 
 are beneficent in their operation, and agreeable 
 to the analogy of God's ordinary dealings. 
 That they are beneficent, no one can doubt who 
 reads the Gospels. As for analogy, that is 
 always a long subject, and I do not like touch- 
 ing on it. But I will only say thus much. We 
 know how closely the moral and physical world 
 are connected. Our own feelings tell us this. 
 A thought affects the course of the blood, and 
 brings, as the case may be, a blush or a sudden 
 paleness to the cheek. A violent emotion con- 
 vulses us as an earthquake shakes a city. 
 Excessive joy, as well as excessive grief, is 
 sometimes more than we can bear, and destroys 
 us by the suddenness of its surprise. Our health 
 depends on our minds as well as on our bodies ; 
 anxiety and distress will cause or exaggerate a 
 fever, and their removal will sometimes cure it. 
 No wonder then if the great frame-work of 
 nature tremble like a reed when some great 
 moral change is passing over the world. No 
 
44 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 wonder that that last great cry rent the rocks 
 as well as the veil of the temple. No wonder, 
 to take another aspect of the subject, that the 
 sea was calmed by the voice of its Maker ; the 
 loaves were multiplied before Him who feeds 
 all flesh ; and the dead arose at the presence of 
 Him whose life was the light of men. 
 
 Ph. Yes, indeed. I am reminded of what 
 our old friend Aristotle says somewhere or 
 other. We begin by being surprised that things 
 are as they are ; on better and fuller knowledge, 
 we should be surprised if they were otherwise. 
 In one sense, the absence of miracles, not 
 their presence, would be the wonder. If this is 
 what you mean, I quite allow that miracles 
 probably conform to general laws. 
 
 H. Well, we are agreed on that point. 
 Neither of us is at all anxious to detract from 
 the universality of general laws. And I assure 
 you that I hold, and wish to hold fast, the 
 belief in special Providence in the minutest 
 particulars, and all consequences that legiti- 
 mately flow from it. We are agreed on this 
 point too. 
 
 Ph. Yes ; but there 's the rub. 
 
 H. Where ? that we agree too fully ? 
 
 Ph. No; but that the opinions which we 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 45 
 
 both agree to hold cannot perhaps be very 
 easily shown to agree with each other. 
 
 H. Never mind that, if they cannot be 
 shewn to disagree. 
 
 Ph. But what if I feel them, or others 
 think they feel them, to disagree ? 
 
 H. Feelings are not very much to be trusted 
 in such matters. They may suggest a doubt, 
 but they are no sufficient reason for acquiescing 
 in it. 
 
 Ph. Very true ; but yet I am not inclined 
 to neglect them altogether. The doubt which 
 they suggest may have good grounds after all. 
 
 H. It may ; and I would not have you neg- 
 lect them. There is another course open — to 
 try the feelings themselves. 
 
 Ph. By what test ? 
 
 H. By much the same test as you would 
 try truths, or seeming truths, in general. Give 
 your feelings a fair hearing; treat them as 
 witnesses, or if you please, plaintiffs, or both. 
 Look them fairly in the face, as not being 
 afraid of them ; and make them look the truth 
 in the face, as good honest feelings should. 
 Hear their statement, and what they have to 
 urge in its behalf. Avail yourself of every 
 means of deciding the question which you 
 
46 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 possess. If they prove to be right, well and 
 good; reason and feeling, evidence and in- 
 stinct, go together. 
 
 Ph. But if they do not go together ? 
 
 H. In that case, / should say we must 
 follow reason. We should treat our feelings like 
 children whom we love, but must thwart now 
 and then. We should tell them, that in this 
 case they are mistaken, and must not have 
 their own way. 
 
 E. Is not that hard treatment for the feel- 
 ings sometimes? 
 
 H. Perhaps, Eliza, you would think it hard 
 treatment for the children too, in cases where I 
 should think it good and wholesome. But I 
 hope we need not go into this question ; for it 
 very often happens that, on examination, the 
 difference proves to be imaginary. Reason and 
 feeling talk the matter over like good friends, 
 and find themselves quite agreed at last. I 
 hope it will be so in this case ; at any rate, it is 
 worth while trying if it is not. 
 
 Ph. I quite agree with you. Shall we make 
 the attempt, and see if feeling and reason can 
 be reconciled ? 
 
 H. By all means ; only please to remember 
 that, on this subject, it is your feelings and 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 47 
 
 reason which are at variance. I am aware of 
 no mutiny in my camp just now. 
 
 Ph. Nor do I plead guilty to any mutiny; 
 it is rather an unquiet sense, that there is a 
 want of entire harmony somewhere. But per- 
 haps, as you say, that may disappear on explan- 
 ation. 
 
 H. Very likely. A large portion of our 
 quarrels with ourselves, as well as with each 
 other, are very properly called misunderstand- 
 ings. Will you state the case, that we may 
 proceed ? 
 
 Ph. But which part am I to take ? I can- 
 not be counsel on both sides, Eliza, will you 
 take a brief? 
 
 E. No, thank you ; I had rather listen. 
 
 H. I admire your prudence; besides, it is 
 no case for counsel. 
 
 Ph. Why not? 
 
 H. Do not you see, that to call in counsel 
 is to put reason and feeling together by the 
 ears ? You then assume that they are at vari- 
 ance, which is the very point on which we are 
 going to inquire. Besides, both the positions 
 in question are approved by reason ; and then 
 feeling comes in to suggest that they do not 
 agree with each other. 
 
48 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 E. Set us on the right way then. What 
 are these two positions, Henry ? 
 
 H. I suppose, from what we have said, they 
 are as follows : God governs the world by 
 general laws, and God governs the world by 
 special providence. Is that right, Philip ? 
 
 Ph. Yes; I suppose so. 
 
 H. Very well ; we have our two positions 
 clear enough. Now please to shew me the 
 opposition between them. 
 
 Ph. I do not like, of course, to say they 
 are really opposed to each other ; but you will 
 admit, I think, that they have an air of incompa- 
 tibility ; and that their apparent inconsistency 
 needs some explanation. 
 
 H. No such thing. I admit nothing of the 
 kind. 
 
 Ph. Now my dear Henry, do not let us 
 argue for argument's sake. I want to get at 
 the truth. Do you really mean to say, that if 
 one person tells you that God governs by gene- 
 ral laws, and another, that He governs by 
 special providence, you fully and freely agree 
 with both, without any feeling that one contra- 
 dicts the other ? 
 
 H. I do. The two assertors may differ, but 
 the assertions do not. If our two imaginary 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 49 
 
 friends think they are contradicting each other, 
 they are mistaken. 
 
 Ph. But do you allow their mistake to be 
 natural ? 
 
 H. In one sense it is certainly natural, 
 because so many people make it. But I think 
 it a mistake nevertheless. 
 
 Ph. Very well. How would you propose to 
 undeceive them? 
 
 H. That depends, on circumstances. But I 
 have, I must own, an idea of a general method 
 of treatment. 
 
 Ph. What is that? 
 
 H. First of all, I would put the two posi- 
 tions side by side, and shew that they are not, 
 in virtue of the force of words, necessarily in- 
 consistent. 
 
 Ph. I agree in your conclusion ; but I should 
 like to see a little more of the process. 
 
 H. Oh, the process is simple enough. Both 
 assert that God governs the world. The ques- 
 tion is, how? One says, by general laws, 
 another, by special Providence. A certain feel- 
 ing of difference is supposed to follow. I 
 enquire into its reason. Is it, Philip (for you 
 shall answer for both), because God cannot be 
 supposed to govern the world by two means at 
 
 E 
 
50 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 once ? I do not wish you at present to consider 
 what the means are. 
 
 Ph. I should think not. That difficulty, 
 if it deserves the name, is easily got over. Both 
 may be means of His government, though in 
 different ways. 
 
 H. I quite agree with you. That little 
 word ' by' has a dozen shades of meaning at the 
 very least. 
 
 Ph. Yes ; and we need not delay in choosing 
 between them. I wish to keep to real questions, 
 and not get into a discussion about the mean- 
 ing of prepositions. 
 
 H. The meaning of prepositions is a real 
 question in its way. But good-bye to it, if you 
 will ; and let us go on to substantives and ad- 
 jectives. For general laws and special provi- 
 dence remain. Is there any sort of difference 
 here? 
 
 Ph. The adjectives look as if they could 
 pick up a quarrel with each other. 
 
 H. Well, there is, no doubt, a kind of 
 antagonism between general and special. If 
 they qualified the same substantive, there would 
 be a real difficulty. But they do not, and that 
 quite alters the case. The same man might be 
 a general officer and a special constable. 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 5 I 
 
 Ph. Very true ; not that I accept your 
 example as quite to the purpose. But I need 
 no such illustration to convince me that the 
 meaning of adjectives is much modified by their 
 accompanying substantives. 
 
 H. Let us go to the substantives then — 
 law, and Providence. Do they contain notions 
 essentially opposed? 
 
 Ph. Far from it. Take them by themselves, 
 apart from our propositions, and they agree 
 most amicably. Every law, laid down by a 
 rational being, is meant to meet future cases, 
 and is in itself a species of providence. 
 
 H. Yes ; and so far as the providential acts 
 of a rational being have an unity of purpose, 
 and exhibit a common principle, they partake 
 of the nature of a law. 
 
 Ph. It seems so. 
 
 H. And perhaps (to recur to our adjectives) 
 the reason why, when speaking of law and pro- 
 vidence, we so often add the epithets respec- 
 tively of ' general' and ' special/ is from a certain 
 sense that without them there might be some 
 risk of confusion. For law is a kind of gene- 
 ralised Providence; and providential events 
 come to pass through the special workings of a 
 law. 
 
52 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Ph. Perhaps you are right; but please do 
 not go on talking in that way. The result will 
 be, that instead of the antithesis which we 
 began by looking for, we shall find nothing but 
 inextricable confusion of words and ideas. 
 
 H. Well, I am at your disposal; but, in- 
 deed, we have finished the subject, unless I am 
 wrong in judging from what you say, that you 
 no longer see even a verbal opposition between 
 government by general laws and by special 
 Providence. 
 
 Ph. There is no verbal opposition, I admit; 
 but I protest against your • even.' Do not 
 leave the question in this state. What do you 
 say of the real opposition which many feel ? 
 
 H. I said before that I am not sensible of 
 it myself; but I ought, if you wish, to be quite 
 candid, and admit that once I felt it, and very 
 deeply. It was a point on which Reason and 
 Faith seemed likely to differ. I could not help 
 thinking about it, and thinking uncomfortably 
 too. But that state, I am thankful to say, is 
 long past and gone. 
 
 Ph. How? Which conquered, Faith or 
 Reason ? 
 
 H. Neither ; for the best of all reasons — 
 they were neither at war with the other. I had 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 53 
 
 been wrong, as I found, in thinking their rela- 
 tions hostile. 
 
 Ph. But how did you discover your error ? 
 
 H. It is not quite easy to say. I believe I 
 looked the difficulty in the face, and at last it 
 disappeared, or ceased to be a difficulty. I 
 found that I had made a spectre to terrify 
 myself out of very good and honest materials. 
 But I do not excel at extemporising an auto- 
 biography, so I had better leave it alone. 
 
 Ph. And not surely the subject with it ? 
 
 H. No ; if you wish it, I will tell you the 
 results, leaving the process alone, or touching 
 on it but slightly. Shall I do so ? 
 
 Ph. By all means. 
 
 H. I will be as brief as I can about it ; and 
 you must interrupt me as often as you please, 
 and express your dissent freely, whenever I 
 seem going wrong. And you must help too, 
 Eliza. You see what the case is. We admit 
 the existence of general laws on grounds of 
 experience and reason, and of a special Provi- 
 dence on grounds of Revelation, and, I think I 
 may add, Reason as well. What I want to 
 show is, that there is not the least shadow of 
 incompatibility in the truths we agree to hold. 
 Is that intelligible, Eliza ? 
 
54 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 E. Quite so, after what I have heard. And 
 I am anxious to hear your proof. 
 
 H. Well, I will do my best. You will grant 
 me, I suppose, in starting, that on a question 
 of this kind we must use analogies, and argue 
 from the seen to the unseen. 
 
 Ph. It is a liberty which we must allow 
 you; but analogies on such subjects are dan- 
 gerous guides. 
 
 H. Yes, if trusted implicitly ; but perhaps 
 they are the best guides we can obtain, for all 
 that. And you will be at hand to check me, 
 if I employ them wrongly. So I purpose to 
 begin from what falls within our own experience 
 and observation, and argue upwards. 
 
 Ph. Very well. 
 
 H. And I do not think we can begin lower 
 than ourselves. Brutes know nothing about 
 general laws, or Providence either, so far as I 
 can judge. And as to having instincts and 
 imperfect attempts at reason, they are, meta- 
 physically, even more puzzling than that 
 strange puzzle, man. 
 
 E. I am glad to hear you say so. There 
 is something to me so very mysterious about 
 the ways of animals. 
 
 H. Yes ; we know so little of their life and 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 55 
 
 its destinies, and yet they are so strangely close 
 to us. But to pass on to ourselves. Let us 
 see, if we can, how in our own case the ideas 
 of law and Providence are related; or rather, 
 as Providence has become a consecrated word, 
 we will call it prudence, or foresight, as the 
 case may be. Will that do, Eliza ? 
 
 E. Yes, if you please. Providence and 
 prudence are, I suppose, connected words. 
 
 H. Yes. And if we look at a man's mind, 
 we shall see that there is a very close relation 
 between prudence and law. 
 
 E. How so ? 
 
 H. Had you been at Oxford, dear Eliza, 
 like Philip and myself, and there taken the 
 degree of Bachelor of Arts, I should begin by 
 insisting, how Aristotle makes the legislative 
 faculty the highest development of prudence. 
 
 E. Very well ; but as I have not ? — 
 
 H. I will have compassion on you, and 
 begin in some other way. It seems to me clear 
 enough, that all human law is, or is meant to be, 
 the result of foresight. Experience, or observ- 
 ation, or something of the kind (for I do not 
 want to get into metaphysical difficulties on the 
 subject), tells us that certain events have hap- 
 pened, and will happen ; and then the legislator 
 
56 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 calls his power of foresight into play, and 
 makes by his laws provision in some way for 
 the events which he foresees. Is that intelli- 
 gible, Eliza? 
 
 E. Quite so. 
 
 H. And if laws fail, it is for want of suf- 
 ficient foresight on the part of those who made 
 them. They left out some necessary element 
 in the calculation. They did not measure 
 aright the strength of the motives which they 
 had to meet, and weakness of the influences 
 which they brought into operation. They 
 overlooked some method of evading their 
 law, or some way of fulfilling its letter and 
 violating its spirit; or perhaps they failed 
 to see that there were possible cases in which 
 it would act harshly, injuriously, and even 
 unjustly. 
 
 E. And what then ? 
 
 H. Why then, I suppose, if the legislator 
 and the governor are the same person, he has 
 to invoke, in another form, the same faculty 
 which he employed at first, and to use his 
 powers of calculation and prudence in extri- 
 cating himself from his difficulties. He must 
 meet one by one, if he can, the cases in which 
 his law has failed to work well, and moreover 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 57 
 
 alter his law, that it may work better for the 
 future. Do you agree, Philip ? 
 
 Ph. Yes; it is all quite true. But I must 
 own, that I do not quite see how it is all to the 
 purpose. 
 
 H. Perhaps it is not quite all to the pur- 
 pose. One part evidently is not. I spoke of 
 human laws going wrong, owing to the defective 
 penetration of the legislator. There can be 
 nothing of this kind with Divine laws. 
 
 Ph. Of course not. 
 
 H. And that being the case, a consequence 
 follows which I did not see at first, but only 
 when you warned me that my remarks were 
 not quite to the purpose. We are apt to think 
 of Providence as coming after law, and remedy- 
 ing, if I may use the expression without being 
 blamed (you will see that I do not agree with 
 it myself), the defects in the Divine adminis- 
 tration. Something undesirable, we imagine, 
 would happen, were the laws left to themselves 
 to work out their natural results ; and so the 
 Divine Providence steps in, and regulates, modi- 
 fies, or controls their operation. 
 
 Ph. Yes ; we have had all that before, and 
 I know you do not agree with it. 
 
 H. Very true ; and I now wish to observe, 
 
58 SPECIAL PKOVIDENCE. 
 
 that the opinion derives no support whatever 
 from any analogy between the operations of 
 human and Divine Reason. The Divine Law- 
 giver cannot err; and therefore we ought not 
 to expect anything in the exercise of Divine 
 Providence at all analogous to that exercise of 
 human prudence which is rendered necessary 
 by the defects of human law. 
 
 E. I am sorry to interrupt, Henry, but I 
 am not quite sure that I understand you. If 
 you wish me to keep you company, you must 
 wait for me, and lend me a helping hand now 
 and then. 
 
 H. Well, I mean this. When human law 
 is in question, we think of prudence, not only 
 as going before law, and making it, but also as, 
 in some other form, coming after it, correcting 
 any defects in its operations. And we are quite 
 right in expecting something of the kind, be- 
 cause human laws are, in their degree, either 
 erroneous or defective; and therefore must 
 not only be set working, but must be watched, 
 that they may act right, and be checked if 
 they act wrong. You understand that, Eliza ? 
 
 E. Yes. 
 
 H. But, on the other hand, Divine laws 
 can be neither erroneous nor defective. They 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 59 
 
 cannot, therefore, need correction, either in 
 their results or in themselves. The fact, then, 
 that there is a remedial and corrective action, 
 which follows on the operation of human laws, 
 which are defective, affords no reason whatever 
 for supposing that there is any remedial or cor- 
 rective action which follows in the operation of 
 Divine laws, which are perfect. Do you see this ? 
 
 E. Yes, I think I do. Do you, Philip ? 
 
 Ph. Yes, I do. I see no flaw in the argu- 
 ment. Henry and I have been over some of 
 this ground before ; and I assented to him 
 then, and do now. I think it is clear, that the 
 perfection of Divine law renders all compen- 
 sating action unnecessary. The world cannot 
 be like an imperfectly made clock, which is 
 continually needing the hand of the maker to 
 set it right. The more skilful the maker, the 
 more correct will be the operation of his work ; 
 and when the maker is perfect, his work will 
 be perfect, and the operation perfect also. I 
 see a little difficulty in supposing that Provi- 
 dence comes after law. 
 
 H. I judge, by your emphasis, that you are 
 disposed to think that it comes before it. 
 
 Ph. I am; and I judge by your remark 
 that you are not so disposed ? 
 
60 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 H. Why, I do not see that I have any 
 alternative. The same line of thought which 
 we have pursued makes it imperative, I think, 
 to accept one conclusion. 
 
 Ph. And what is that ? 
 
 H. That there is nothing in the analogy of 
 human law and providence to lead us to sup- 
 pose that Divine Providence precedes law. 
 
 Ph. How do you make out that ? We said, 
 I thought, that human forethought preceded 
 the making of law. 
 
 H. We did. But consider the nature of 
 this forethought. Why is it necessary ? Would 
 a perfect Being be ignorant of the consequences 
 of his own acts ? Would he have to watch, and 
 wait, and collect experiments ? I cannot ima- 
 gine it for a moment ; can you ? 
 
 Ph. I perceive the difficulty, I must own ; 
 and yet it seems to me, that a perfect human 
 Being would have no prophetic power to predict 
 the issue of all his actions, but would be obliged 
 to wait and see. 
 
 H. A perfect human Being would, I allow. 
 But his powers are necessarily finite. He does 
 not initiate the scheme of things, if I may so 
 speak. He finds it already in operation. He 
 does not make the system in which he is, 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 6 1 
 
 because he is not of infinite power. He cannot 
 tell how the laws which he did not make will 
 work; because he is not of infinite wisdom. 
 But when infinite Power and Wisdom come in, 
 the case is changed. There can then be no 
 need of trying experiments, if indeed before 
 law, an experiment were possible. 
 
 E. "What do you mean by doubting if expe- 
 riments can come before law ? 
 
 H. Why, my dear Eliza, an experiment 
 means, I believe, an endeavour on our part to 
 discover what the law, which already exists, is. 
 We try an experiment, and expect that some- 
 thing will follow. If there were not a law already 
 existing, we should have no right to expect 
 that anything would follow. We hope the 
 result will tell us what that law is. 
 
 Ph. Yes, I see that. A perfect mind, from 
 which all laws proceeded, could have no need 
 to examine what those laws actually were. Its 
 own consciousness would supersede the necessity 
 of such an induction. 
 
 H. And if so, the Divine Lawgiver, so far 
 as we can judge from human analogies, would 
 lay down His laws at once. There would be no 
 previous stage of observation and forethought, 
 such as finite minds go through. There would 
 
62 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 be no Providence before law, as we have already 
 seen there can be none after law. 
 
 Ph. Rather a startling conclusion, I think ; 
 especially" when drawn by one who most fully 
 accepts the doctrine of a special providence. 
 If this Providence is neither before nor after 
 law, when or where must we look for it ? 
 
 H. A question very easily answered — in law . 
 
 Ph. You will think me a very troublesome 
 person, I am afraid, but I am not satisfied yet. 
 How can Providence be in law? Can you say that 
 it is so, without confusing two distinct ideas ? 
 
 H; Yes, I quite think I can. Remember 
 how the case stands. Providence and law, we 
 have agreed, begin together. Brutes do not 
 shew any conscious forethought, and originate 
 no laws. In man, we come to law and fore- 
 thought at once. 
 
 Ph. Yes; but observe my difficulty. Law 
 is with man a method of escaping from further 
 thought. He exercises his powers of calcula- 
 tion before he forms a law, that he may be able 
 to form it ; he exercises his powers of action 
 after the formation of law, that he may remedy 
 its defects as they appear in its working. But in 
 human laws, though they are the result of fore- 
 thought, there is no forethought present. The 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 63 
 
 legislator sends out his laws for others to con- 
 duct their operations. He commits his com- 
 mands, in a general form, to others, and is so 
 spared the labour of making each particular 
 case himself. 
 
 H. The laws then do not work of them- 
 selves ? 
 
 Ph. Certainly not. 
 
 H. Who is it then that administers them ? 
 
 Ph. That will vary in different cases. 
 
 H. But you are clear on this point — that 
 they always are administered by some person 
 or other. 
 
 Ph. Yes. 
 
 H. And so are Divine laws, as well as 
 human. Law, without personality, is the 
 merest dream of the cloudiest metaphysician. 
 But who administers Divine laws but God 
 Himself? To whom does He commit His thun- 
 der? What other hand than His own can 
 guide His universe? 
 
 Ph. None indeed. I see that His laws 
 cannot be entrusted to any agents beside Him- 
 self, in a sense at all like that in which human 
 laws are committed to human instruments. 
 
 E. But there are surely Beings who are en- 
 trusted with administering the Divine Laws. 
 
64 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 H. As for instance, Eliza ? 
 
 E. I was thinking of the angels. 
 
 H. Quite true. But the power of the angels 
 is always derived. 
 
 E. And is not the power which a king, for 
 instance, delegates to his ministers also de- 
 rived ? 
 
 H. ' Their power as ministers is derived, but 
 not their power as men. 
 
 E. I am afraid I do not quite see the dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 H. I will try and make it clearer. Kings, 
 they say, shew their skill as governors as much 
 in their choice of instruments as in what they 
 do themselves. But they only choose these in- 
 struments ; they do not make them. Queen Bess 
 found Cecil, and Dudley, and "Walsingham, 
 somewhere or other. She perceived their fit- 
 ness for her purposes, and employed them. 
 But they derived their qualifications from 
 another and a higher source than herself. 
 
 E. Yes ; that is quite clear. 
 
 H. It follows then, that the power of the 
 minister is not simply the deputed power of the 
 sovereign. The king may touch the spring and 
 set the machine in motion, but the complex 
 machinery exists beforehand, quite independent 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 65 
 
 of his will; the motive power is not of his 
 creation, and the laws on which its operation 
 depends are quite superior to his control. His 
 knowledge and power may enable him to press 
 other knowledge and power into his service ; 
 but the source of their activity, as of his own, 
 must be sought in a higher fountain. He 
 knows them, at best, but partially, and governs 
 them but imperfectly. His very superiority 
 over them is but a kind of triumph of weakness. 
 He plays off one against another, and finds his 
 strength in his knowledge of their infirmities. 
 He is obliged to repose external confidence in 
 them, with a latent distrust at his heart. He 
 hopes that they will do his will, but he cannot 
 be sure of it. How different is this from the 
 way in which God must work through the 
 Angels, whom He made, and knows to the 
 innermost depth of their consciousness. Every 
 power which they have is simply a gift from 
 Him ; every work which they perform is in 
 virtue of the nature which He gave them. The 
 whole complex of things around them is go- 
 verned, as well as themselves, by the laws which 
 He has originated. They only do what He 
 wills, and as He has willed it. And what they 
 do, He may well be said to do also. 
 v 
 
66 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Ph. General laws and Angels do not seem 
 much alike : but I think, Henry, that in one 
 respect, you would take up the same position 
 with regard to them. You would say, I ima- 
 gine, that if we insist either on the ministry of 
 Angels, or the operation of general laws, in 
 such a way as to convey the impression that it 
 is not God who works through the Angelic 
 ministry and through the general laws, we are 
 on the brink of a great error. 
 
 H. Yes; and I only regret that so many 
 people, in one way and another, fall over the 
 edge of the precipice. Not that I quite like 
 the metaphor. It is no abrupt precipice at 
 all, but a smooth bank down which it is too 
 easy to glide, and which is far too slippery for 
 an easy return upward. 
 
 Ph. I am accountable for the metaphor, I 
 believe. It does not strike me as very appro- 
 priate even in your amended form. 
 
 H. I will try my hand at another. What 
 do you say to this ? The error of those who 
 rest in the thought of general laws or the An- 
 gelic ministry, instead of proceeding through it 
 to the Author and Cause of all order, is like 
 that of those who mistake means for ends — 
 those, for instance, who make money the object 
 of life, instead of the instrument. 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 67 
 
 Ph. It is not satisfactory, except on one 
 point. Money is too concrete a thing to stand 
 as the representative of general laws. 
 
 E. And it is still less like Angels. 
 
 H. Well, I will try once more. It is like 
 those cases in which a tissue, a membrane, a 
 fluid, which is designed to be a vehicle for our 
 sensations, undergoes a change which destroys 
 its properties, by thickening or deadening it, 
 and causes it to obstruct the operation of the 
 sense which it was intended to assist. 
 
 Ph. That will do better, though it is rather 
 hard. What do you think, Eliza ? 
 
 E. I think it will do very well. Cataract 
 in the eye is something of the kind, is it 
 not? 
 
 Ph. Yes; I believe it is. 
 
 E. But surely, Henry, it is a very different 
 thing whether people think too much about 
 general laws, or think too much about Angels. 
 You and Philip speak of them as if they were 
 the same mistake. 
 
 H. They are mistakes which are alike in 
 one important particular. They each substi- 
 tute an instrument for a cause, a medium for 
 that which is final. But you are right in 
 thinking that they differ considerably in their 
 
68 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 nature, and in their practical consequences still 
 more. 
 
 E. I wish that you would compare them 
 to each other : for though I seem to see a dif- 
 ference, I know very little about the matter. 
 
 H. There is not much room for comparison. 
 Except in the point which we have specified, 
 they differ pretty consistently throughout. One 
 is superstitious, the other rationalistic. 
 
 E. Where do we find them in practice? 
 I suppose that the Invocation of Saints and 
 Angels is an example of the one error. 
 
 H. And if in a place where you found the 
 women and children invoking Saints and Angels, 
 you went out into the streets and caught the 
 first person who called himself a philosopher, I 
 am afraid that the odds are greatly in favour of 
 his being an example of the other. 
 
 Ph. Yes, it is clear enough what the prac- 
 tical tendency of each mistake will be. And I 
 suppose there is something in their nature and 
 origin which accounts for this tendency. 
 
 i/. Yes, I should think so. The super- 
 stitious error arises from too unguarded a 
 belief. The Homish system of created me- 
 diators is the invention of no one man, but 
 the result of a traditionary feeling continually 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE^ 69 
 
 gaining strength, and continually received by 
 the next generation, in all its augmented pro- 
 portions, on the evidence of the generation 
 which has gone before. 
 
 Ph. And the other ? how does it arise ? 
 
 H. It is not so easy to say. The undue 
 elevation of general laws has quite a different 
 history from the Worship of Angels. It is the 
 fault of individuals, not of a great society. It 
 is a vice of minds which possess more than 
 usual powers of abstraction. People in general 
 are not tempted by it. It may adhere to a 
 school of philosophers, but will seldom, if ever, 
 infect a nation. And so it has comparatively 
 little external history. Sometimes it will pro- 
 ceed from a hard, cold, calculating tempera- 
 ment, which can perceive the beauty of Order, 
 but has no soul for Love; which can be curious 
 about nature and man, and indifferent about 
 their Author. Sometimes, it will be a reaction 
 from some other form of error; sometimes, 
 perhaps, the transition stage from indifference 
 to better and truer views. But let it go, from 
 whatever quarter it comes. It is sad work 
 analysing errors. 
 
 Ph. Well, and what next? 
 
 H. Nothing, so far as I am concerned. I 
 
70 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 have said my say. I think I know my own 
 meaning, and I should be sorry to think that 
 you have missed it altogether. We have 
 been seeming to agree for the last half hour, 
 and I hope we shall not begin to differ again. 
 
 Ph. Very well. Sum up, if you please, 
 what you think ought to be our points of 
 agreement, and I will promise not to contra- 
 dict you on the subject before to-morrow, at 
 the earliest. 
 
 H. I will try, if you wish. Providence 
 and Law, are both words by which we express, 
 or endeavour to express, certain truths about 
 the manner in which God works. Providence 
 implies, that in all the dealings of God with 
 His creatures, He acts consciously, voluntarily, 
 and knowingly, as an Omniscient and Omni- 
 potent Agent. Law implies, that in His works 
 and dealings, we can trace a certain amount of 
 uniformity and resemblance, which the struc- 
 ture of our minds leads us to believe to exist 
 in a still greater degree than we can trace 
 it. In God, as a Being of perfect Knowledge, 
 and perfect Power, there is no opposition 
 between the greatest uniformity of action, 
 and the most particular regard for the 
 issue of each action, in all its multiform 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 7 1 
 
 consequences. He sees all things from 
 the first, effects all that He wills in His 
 own way, never makes a mistake, never mis- 
 calculates a consequence, never overlooks an 
 element or a condition, is never deceived or 
 overpowered by independent and subordinate 
 agents, never need suspend His steps to watch 
 an event, or retrace His course to rectify an 
 error. But the wisest of men must often do 
 this : and so, misled by a false analogy, we are 
 apt to attribute to God the imperfection of our 
 own works. We form our calculations; and 
 they prove erroneous, because the immutable 
 laws around us interfere with our plans in some 
 unforeseen way. And this makes us sometimes 
 speak and think, as if the events which depend 
 on the laws which God has made, were in some 
 way independent of Him, and out of the reach 
 of His Power. The most profound and thought- 
 ful among us can never lay down universal 
 rules of conduct with such absolute accuracy, 
 that considerations of justice, equity, or ex- 
 pediency will not sometimes lead him to make 
 exceptions to his rule ; and we transfer too 
 readily this consequence of human imperfection 
 to the supreme and perfect Lawgiver. The 
 most comprehensive human mind, which sees 
 
72 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 
 
 furthest into nature, and enters most minutely 
 into phenomena, sees nevertheless but a very 
 small portion of actual Being. When we 
 speak of men, or plants, or minerals, some 
 few instances at once rise up in our minds ; a 
 good many more can be recalled on prolonged 
 reflection : but what is the number of in- 
 stances which occur to us, compared to the 
 millions of men and plants and minerals 
 which exist around us? And thus, when Ave 
 say all, we think only of some; and the nar- 
 rowness of our conceptions stands in marked 
 contrast with the breadth and vastness of 
 the creation of God. But do the limits thus 
 placed to our faculties afford us the least 
 justification for assigning any similar bounds 
 to His ? Dare we assert that His intuition of 
 universal laws does not comprehend every 
 actual and possible particular instance ? Is 
 it not to attribute human fallibility to Him, 
 to think that the uniformity of action which 
 He is pleased to observe cannot co-exist with 
 the most perfect and delicate regard to the 
 tendencies and consequences of all His actions? 
 We make a great assumption, if we regard 
 general laws as instruments and mediums of 
 Divine operations. But even if they are so — 
 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE. 73 
 
 does not He know accurately all the properties 
 of the machinery which He has made ? No- 
 thing in the Universe is beyond the necessary 
 and natural scope both of His Knowledge and 
 of His Power. Whatever veils are interposed 
 between Him and us; however subordinate 
 agents seem to interfere ; to whatever extent 
 our own ignorance and weakness keep us from 
 appreciating His Wisdom and Power, we may 
 be sure that His Laws are the workers of His 
 Will, and that His creatures are His servants. 
 Link after link may follow in the long chain 
 of Cause and Effect ; event may succeed event 
 in an almost infinite series; laws, and men, 
 and angels, may seem like so many inde- 
 pendent agents acting on us, and influencing 
 us according to their own will. But things 
 are not as they seem. All this complexity of 
 causes originates from, and is simplified in, 
 the great presiding Cause. They work His 
 will, though often without knowing it. He 
 sits on His throne, and things happen as 
 He wills. Let us not think otherwise, because 
 we are beneath His footstool. 
 
74 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 TT was Sunday afternoon. The morning ser- 
 -*- vice had been followed by an early dinner ; 
 and that, in due time, by afternoon service 
 and tea. The weather was too showery for 
 anyone to be disposed to go into the garden. 
 There was a prospect of a long unoccupied 
 stretch of time, much more than was likely 
 to be devoted to continuous reading. And 
 we very naturally took to conversation as a 
 resource. The courteous reader will perceive 
 that the little pronoun which has just slipped 
 from the writer's pen, implies that he was a 
 speaker also. It is in no way an important 
 fact, it must be allowed, except so far as it 
 simplifies proceedings, and ensures an atten- 
 tive, if not an accurate, reporter of the dia- 
 logue. 
 
 Moreover, it was the ninth of September. 
 The tenth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel 
 had consequently been read as the second 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 75 
 
 morning lesson in church. One or two verses 
 were particularly present to our thoughts — 
 those which record our Lord's declaration, that 
 the sparrows are cared for by our Father, and 
 the very hairs of our head are numbered. 
 
 Eliza spoke first on the subject. 
 
 I have been thinking, Henry, that when we 
 were talking of Providence the day before 
 yesterday, we did not pay so much attention 
 to the Bible as we should have done. 
 
 H. A very common fault, Eliza, when we 
 are talking of such things. But I do not feel 
 so guilty on this occasion as perhaps you 
 may imagine. We did not talk much about 
 Holy Scripture then, but I thought of it a 
 good deal. And so did you too, and Philip, 
 I know. 
 
 E. We could not help thinking of it, of 
 course. But what I mean is, that it did not 
 seem to affect the argument much. It came 
 in here and there, and was alluded to : and 
 was often in our minds, I am sure, when 
 nothing was said. But our conversation did 
 not take, on the whole, a Scriptural turn, 
 though it was on a Scriptural subject. 
 
 H. Why, we had a double subject — General 
 Laws and Special Providence. As regards the 
 
76 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 former, I do not suppose that any of us would 
 naturally turn to Holy Scripture as the chief 
 authority. We should not consult its pages 
 to solve any metaphysical question which is 
 not also a religious one. We know from the 
 Bible that God governs the heaven, and the 
 earth, and the sea. Whether he governs these 
 by general laws or not, is a question of Reason, 
 not of Revelation. 
 
 E. I can understand that ; but it does not 
 apply to the other part of our subject — Special 
 Providence. That is, 1 suppose, a directly re- 
 ligious truth. 
 
 H. Yes; and we began by accepting it as 
 such, on the evidence of Holy Scripture. But 
 it is lawful, I suppose, to hold that it is not 
 only a religious truth. And if there is a side 
 on which Reason can approach it, we had better 
 try to approach it from that side when we are 
 considering its relation to general laws. We 
 wrong the majesty of Holy Scripture, when we 
 introduce it as an authority on points where 
 its jurisdiction is open to question. So we 
 spoke of Providence philosophically, if I may 
 use so fine a word to express the manner of our 
 conversation. Our conclusions will, I believe, 
 be found to be essentially religious. 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 77 
 
 E. Might we not rest content with the 
 statements of Holy Scripture without any 
 discussion ? 
 
 H. We might, dear Eliza, if we could or 
 would. But many of us cannot and will not. 
 
 E. If we will not, of course it is wrong. I 
 do not quite see how we cannot. 
 
 H. I do not mean you, of course, or neces- 
 sarily myself, or Philip, or any one in particu- 
 lar ; but I mean this : religion is like some 
 pure ethereal essence, of the finest possible 
 fragrance and odour, but too delicate and 
 volatile to be apprehended by most natures 
 alone. They can only dwell on its perfume 
 and realise its existence, if they blend it with 
 something far less ethereal than itself. A 
 psalm is religion and music mingled; public 
 worship gratifies at once the religious and the 
 social instinct ; even most of our prayers are 
 the union of the wants and wishes of a lower 
 nature with something far more elevated and 
 divine. Religious action realises at once the 
 external world and God; even mystical con- 
 templation will be found, I believe, to have a 
 good deal of self in it, and not to rest entirely 
 on any holy object which is proposed to it. 
 
 E. Yes ; and if it be so ? 
 
78 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 H. "Why, as we blend our feelings, and our 
 desires, and our sensible impressions, with 
 Religion, we blend our reason also. It may be 
 an infirmity, but it is one which we cannot 
 possibly help. Reason will have a relation to 
 Religion. We should do our best to secure its 
 being a right one. 
 
 Ph. For instance, Eliza. A man believes 
 in a Special Providence as a religious truth. But 
 some one tells him, and endeavours to convince 
 him, that this truth of Religion is inconsistent 
 with another truth of Science, namely, that the 
 world is governed by general laws. If he can- 
 not reconcile the two positions, each of which 
 rests on its own evidence, he had better hold 
 the two inconsistently, each as a truth in its 
 separate sphere, and await a solution hereafter. 
 But if Reason can reconcile them, and keep each 
 intact in its due proportions, let it do so by all 
 means. If Reason do harm now and then, do 
 not let us therefore forbid it to do good. 
 
 H. Yes ; and the worst of it is, that if you 
 shut out a real, manly, honest Reason from 
 dealing with religious questions, you cannot 
 exclude a little, factious, carping, depreciating 
 Reason from coming in on the sly. The conse- 
 quence is, that instead of a good philosophy in 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 79 
 
 a recognised position, you get a bad philosophy 
 in an unrecognised position. And a state of 
 things like this augurs little good for truth. 
 Let me ask you a question, Eliza. Do you 
 think it is literally true that the hairs of your 
 head are numbered? 
 
 E. Of course I do, Henry ; and I should be 
 very sorry to be obliged to listen to philosophy, 
 or anything else, if it endeavoured to teach me 
 otherwise. 
 
 H. You need not be afraid that any philo- 
 sophy, or philosopher worthy of the name, will 
 be disposed to make the attempt. Philosophy, 
 as well as religion, teaches us that God is 
 Omniscient ; and Omniscient is, in plain English, 
 knowing everything ; and the number of your 
 hairs comes within that great comprehensive 
 Everything. If you are quite sure that any 
 thing is true, do not be alarmed at its conse- 
 quences ; at any rate, not before you see what 
 they are. But suppose that you took up a ser- 
 mon or commentary on the text which we are 
 thinking of, and found there some such remark 
 as this. ' This lively Eastern image shews us in 
 how great esteem and regard God holds man- 
 kind, because he takes care of their lives and 
 persons/ What would you say to that ? 
 
80 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 E. I should say that it was a sad weakening 
 and diluting of the text. 
 
 H. And you would say right. But you 
 would, most likely, not know what was the 
 reason of this watering down of a most precious 
 truth. While I (you must not think me boast- 
 ful) know what was going on in the mind of 
 the writer, as well as if I had been talking with 
 him on the subject a few minutes before or 
 after he dipped his pen into the inkstand that 
 he might write. 
 
 E. Indeed ! Give us the result of your 
 superior wisdom, if you please. 
 
 H. Why, his thoughts were running much 
 as follows : — ' No doubt God exercises a gene- 
 ral superintendence over the government of the 
 world. But He governs it by general laws ; 
 and I will not commit myself by saying how 
 far these general laws descend into particulars/ 
 And there, if he were by nature a tolerably 
 modest man, he would leave off. If not, he 
 would go on to tell the exact kind of rhetorical 
 figure — metaphor, or synecdoche, or what you 
 please — which our Lord used on the occasion. 
 
 E. Oh, Henry ! 
 
 H. Heally, I do not exaggerate. I met 
 with just that kind of thing only a short time 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 8 1 
 
 ago. I am sure of the fact ; and it is not worth 
 while disinterring the production, that you may 
 see it with your own eyes. But what I want 
 you to observe is this : the writer was very 
 likely, in his way, a sensible sort of person. He 
 perceived, though imperfectly, the religious 
 truth taught in the text; he perceived also, 
 and about as imperfectly, another philosophical 
 truth ; and thinking that they were possibly not 
 quite easily reconciled, he set to work in what, 
 no doubt, seemed to him a very sensible way, 
 to strike the balance between them. And thus, 
 so far as rested with him, he spoiled them 
 both. In his version, the glory is gone from 
 religion and the clearness from philosophy. He 
 is inconsistent, and a heretic to both persua- 
 sions. And why ? because he would try just a 
 little thought, which is considerably more dan- 
 gerous than a little learning. He followed out 
 neither clue ; but merely made a clumsy knot 
 of the ends of each, and so left them. 
 
 Ph. Yes, it is a very illogical and hopeless 
 way of proceeding, to pare off the edges of two 
 truths, with the intention of making them fit 
 each other. You damage the truths, and they 
 will not fit after all. In the case we are think- 
 ng of, all that would be done would be to make 
 
82 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 general laws not quite general, but admitting 
 of a few exceptions ; and Special Providence not 
 quite special, but leaving off when tilings came 
 to a certain point of minuteness. But how is a 
 man in such a state of mind to be dealt with ? 
 
 H. Very easily indeed, if he is open to con- 
 viction at all. He is not complete in his error. 
 He is not involved in any compact circle of mis- 
 takes, which looks like a perfect truth. You 
 can shew him that he is inconsistent. Believer 
 and infidel could attack him in the same 
 way. 
 
 E. And what way would that be? 
 
 H. You might address him somehow as 
 follows : — ' You are a Christian, and yet you 
 hesitate, it would seem, to accept in its plain 
 and literal sense, the text which speaks of the 
 hairs of a Christian's head being numbered. 
 Your reason for this hesitation appears to be, 
 that you cannot imagine the Care of God 
 descending to such minute particulars, which 
 you think to be regulated by the operation of 
 general laws. But why should you draw the 
 line at this particular point ? If it is true, that 
 the growth and decay of men's hair depends on 
 general laws; it is equally true of head and 
 heart, and the whole organization and life of 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 83 
 
 man. You allow that Providence regards our 
 life and general well-being. Do you intend to 
 exempt these from the operation of general 
 laws? If you do, you destroy general laws, as 
 applicable to human life, altogether. The ex- 
 ceptions will overpower the rule ; and the place 
 of Law will be taken by Miracle. But if not, 
 if you allow general laws to be reconcilable with 
 Divine Providence, where brain, and heart,, and 
 lungs, are concerned, why should you think 
 them incompatible when the question concerns 
 hair V 
 
 Ph. Are you not rather too hard upon your 
 supposed antagonist ? Perhaps he only exer- 
 cised a salutary caution in seeming to limit the 
 meaning of the text. There is another passage 
 in the New Testament (not to speak of several 
 in the Old) of which he was very probably 
 thinking, and in which ninety-nine persons out 
 of a hundred would agree that the hair of the 
 head is mentioned metaphorically. 
 
 H. You are thinking, I suppose, of St. Paul's 
 language to his companions in peril — ' There 
 shall not a hair fall from the head of any of 
 you/ 
 
 Ph. Yes, I am. 
 
 H. And I quite allow of its possible bearing 
 
84 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 on our subject. But you will do me the jus- 
 tice, I am sure, to observe a distinction. I was 
 not speaking of any case, real or supposed, in 
 which the language of one passage of Holy 
 Scripture is compared with another, in order to 
 ascertain more accurately the meaning of either, 
 or both. That is at once a religious and 
 reasonable way of proceeding. We shew the 
 greatest respect to the authority of the Bible, 
 when we do not insist on one passage to the 
 exclusion of others, but endeavour, carefully 
 and reverently, to ascertain the one sense which 
 is contained in all. But my supposed commen- 
 tator (let him be wholly imaginary, and then 
 we shall be neither personal nor uncharitable 
 in attributing motives) is in a very different 
 case. I blamed him, not for comparing other 
 texts of Scripture, but for introducing an ele- 
 ment of seeming philosophy into the question ; 
 and that in a sidelong, indirect, unsatisfactory 
 way, which, without recognising the due claims 
 of Philosophy, did wrong to those of Religion. 
 
 Ph. Well, I admit the difference; but what 
 do you say on the question of Interpretation ? 
 What is the result in this case, if you do fairly 
 compare Scripture with Scripture ? 
 
 H. I adhere to my old opinion; and see 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 85 
 
 nothing in the expression employed by St. Paul, 
 to justify me in rejecting the literal meaning of 
 the words of our Saviour. 
 
 Ph. How so ? do St. Paul's words go for 
 nothing ? 
 
 H. Far from it; hut just observe this. 
 Images are copies of really existent things ; we 
 draw our metaphors from realities. St. Paul 
 assured his companions that a hair should not 
 fall from their heads. He grounded his assur- 
 ance of their safety, not upon any strength or 
 power of his own, but upon supernatural com- 
 munications received from the God whom he 
 worshipped. He convinced and comforted his 
 hearers. And perhaps he did so the more 
 easily, because there was an argument concealed 
 under his metaphor. He told them, that their 
 lives had been given to his prayers by an all- 
 powerful Being, whose care extended not to 
 their lives only, but even to the hairs of their 
 head. Thus his words had a power, which his 
 hearers might feel without being aware of its 
 source. His metaphor, far from contradicting 
 our Lord's direct statement, really derives its 
 virtue and power of conviction from the truth 
 which that statement embodies. 
 
 E. You think, then, that St. Paul's fellow- 
 
50 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 sailors did not understand his words as altogether 
 a metaphor ? 
 
 H. I really do not know, Eliza. It must be 
 a mere matter of conjecture. It is a question 
 which we could not even attempt to settle, 
 without knowing more of the moral and 
 spiritual condition of those two hundred and 
 seventy-six souls, than we should probably 
 have known had we made the voyage with 
 them. All I wanted to shew was, that St. 
 Paul's metaphor was no proof that our Lord's 
 words were metaphorical also. If they were 
 taken as a mere figure, that is no reason 
 why we should make a figure of the Words of 
 the Gospel. Nor could a human interpreta- 
 tion even of the words of the Gospel bind 
 us. Generation after generation might under- 
 stand them figuratively; and yet a blessing 
 might rest on those who could receive them 
 as a literal truth. Indeed, it seems to me 
 that the power to receive them literally is 
 itself a great blessing. 
 
 E. It is a power with which I should be 
 very unwilling to part. Does Henry's explana- 
 tion give you satisfaction, Philip ? 
 
 Ph. On the whole. But I want to ask him 
 a further question. You have shewn, I allow, 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 87 
 
 Henry, that there is a great difficulty in the 
 supposing the Divine regulation of the affairs 
 of the world to leave off just at the point which 
 we have been considering. There is a double 
 difficulty, in fact, arising partly from Religion, 
 partly from Reason. No sufficient reason can 
 be made out why the Divine Providence which 
 governs the ordinary events of life, should not 
 also number the hairs of the head ; and then 
 Religion comes in, and asks very naturally, 
 why we should reject the literal statement of 
 Holy Scripture, without even the seeming plea 
 of philosophy to warrant so questionable a 
 measure. Do you think that a fair statement ? 
 
 H. Yes, I do. 
 
 Ph. Then you will admit my question to be 
 a fair one also. Allowing that the line was 
 drawn at the wrong place, where do you fix 
 the right one ? It seems to me that you will 
 find it hard to ascertain the point, or to prove 
 that there is any precise point at all. If Divine 
 Providence descends as low as the hairs of the 
 head, why should it not go further? The same 
 arguments which go to prove that we must not 
 consider its government to cease at one point, 
 need but be shifted a little to prove that it 
 does not cease at another. The trenches are 
 
88 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 advanced a little, and the same guns open a 
 very similar fire. And so on ad infinitum. 
 
 H. I quite agree with you ; and you almost 
 anticipate my answer to your question. "We 
 must go on ad infinitum. The fault would not 
 be in proceeding, but in stopping. There is no 
 limit to be fixed to Divine Providence. The 
 smallest accident of the hair comes under the 
 same category as the hair itself ; and the hair 
 as the head, and the head as the life. 
 
 Ph. Do you say this advisedly ? 
 
 H. Most advisedly. I tell you what I 
 believe, and am far more sure of it than I am of 
 most things. My belief applies to all the end- 
 less multitudes of detail in every minute parti- 
 cular. To keep to the hair of the head — here 
 is Eliza sitting opposite to me, with her back 
 to the fire-place and her face to the light. One 
 very small lock of hair has escaped from its 
 conventional place and form, and is floating 
 free in the grace of its natural curve. It looks 
 dark against her face; but it shoots beyond 
 that fair oval, and stands out against a strong 
 vein in the grayish marble, which looks all the 
 darker for being strengthened by its shadow. 
 The hair comes to an end, but the vein takes up 
 the curve, and continues it for some six inches, 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 89 
 
 till it seems to change its mind, and by a sud- 
 den alteration of direction, with a jagged line 
 like those by which painters represent a flash 
 of lightning, vibrates to and fro through a little 
 space, and then shoots off in a straight line, 
 till vein and marble and chimney-piece end 
 together. What do you think of that, Eliza ? 
 
 E. Please leave me alone. I do not see 
 your purpose at present ; but you can surely 
 contrive to do without me for an illustration. 
 
 H. I only said what I saw; but if you wish 
 it, I will proceed to something which I do not 
 see, though I possibly might under more fa- 
 vourable circumstances. The vein terminates 
 on the lower side of the marble slab which 
 runs across the chimney-piece. It has sloped 
 from right to left, growing gradually finer as 
 it descended. From the point at which it 
 terminates, if you carry your eye from left to 
 right, at an angle of about forty-five degrees, 
 you come to a little vase which contains a rose- 
 bud and a sprig of jessamine, slightly nipped, 
 perhaps, by the frosty nights which have just 
 set in. I suspect, Eliza, that by some little 
 omission in your well-ordered household (you 
 have not been well enough of late always to 
 look to your flowers yourself), the water in 
 
90 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 the said vase has not been changed very lately. 
 The light from the looking-glass is reflected 
 through the opaline vase, just below its neck, 
 and I see a greenish tint in the water which I 
 cannot otherwise account for. My eye-glass 
 tells me thus much ; and if I could give it at 
 this distance the power of the microscope, I 
 should very probably see, between the stalks of 
 the rose and the jessamine, a rotifer, or some such 
 animalcule, in a state of great activity. He has 
 been once before thrown away out of a vase of 
 flowers, and thoroughly dried. But he fell into 
 some water again, and soon came to life. Since 
 that time, he has met with several accidents, 
 having existed (not to specify other calamities), 
 in a pitiably arid condition of suspended anima- 
 tion between the leaves of a botanist's flora. 
 But he is alive once more, and he may have a 
 life or two yet to spend before his adventures 
 are over. At present he goes whirling merrily 
 round. 
 
 Ph. And what then ? 
 
 H. You may well ask, I allow. But I have 
 gone into detail, and even invented, that I may 
 put my meaning beyond mistake. That gentle 
 curve with which Eliza's hair melted into the 
 vein of the marble, and which she has since 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 9 1 
 
 destroyed by a single backward motion of her 
 finger ; the presence of that dark vein in the 
 marble; the exact angle of its zig-zags to each 
 other, and of its general direction to the lines 
 of the chimney-piece; the precise position of the 
 little opaline vase upon the marble shelf; each 
 touch and intertwining of leaf and stalk in the 
 rose and the jessamine; the position, history, and 
 destiny of every animalcule contained in the 
 water which keeps the flowers from fading, 
 these particulars, and every other nameable 
 and conceivable particular, and many more 
 which we can neither name nor perceive, I 
 believe most firmly to be matters of Divine 
 arrangement, and to be ordered and decreed 
 by God. 
 
 E. But surely this is no truth of religion? 
 
 H. I never said it was. I have only given it 
 as my private opinion, in which I hope there is 
 nothing irreligious, at least. 
 
 E. And why introduce such speculations, 
 if they are not religious truths? 
 
 H. I have half told you already. It has 
 been often maintained, that a belief in Special 
 Providence is inconsistent with Reason. I am 
 surely not wrong in contradicting such a posi- 
 tion as that. It has been often supposed, again, 
 
0,2 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 that this Special Providence does not descend 
 to the details of our life and conduct. You 
 will probably think me in the right in denying 
 this also, and shewing that here there is no 
 opposition between Reason and Revelation, 
 Reason thus becomes a party in the contro- 
 versy, and must take her share of its responsi- 
 bility. A question is asked her, and a very 
 fair one, which she is bound to answer if she 
 can. I speak (forgive the presumption) in her 
 name, and as, for this time only, her represen- 
 tative. Philip wished to know at what point 
 it seemed to me that the Divine superinten- 
 dence terminated. I answered, with a feeling 
 that I am as sure on this subject as I can be 
 on anything of the kind, that it terminates at 
 no assignable or imaginable point whatever. 
 And my reasons are at your service if you 
 wish. 
 
 Ph. Yes, Henry is quite right in making 
 this assertion; for he evidently believes it to be 
 true. Whether he is equally right in his be- 
 lief, is quite another question. May I ask your 
 reasons, Henry? I hold my judgment quite 
 in suspense till I know them. 
 
 H. Oh, they are most fully at your dis- 
 posal, and at Eliza's, too, if she will have them. 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 93 
 
 And will you let me ask you an introductory 
 question, Eliza? 
 
 E. If you wish ; only do not let it be dif- 
 ficult : or, if it is, do not expect an answer. 
 
 H. I wish to ask it, that I may be sure 
 you see the drift of my argument — if, indeed, 
 anything so simple deserves k the name. It is 
 an easy question in mathematics. 
 
 E. I know nothing about mathematics. 
 
 H. You will be able to answer my question 
 nevertheless. Supposing it were proved to you 
 on amply sufficient evidence, that two quanti- 
 ties, the amount of neither of which you knew, 
 were equal to each other — 
 
 E. Excuse my stopping you at the very 
 beginning ; but how could I know that they 
 were equal to each other, without knowing the 
 amount of either ? 
 
 H. In several ways ; there is no difficulty 
 about that, I assure you. You cannot know 
 everything about the quantities in question, 
 but you may know quite enough for the pur- 
 pose. Suppose, for instance, you knew that 
 two sisters had once the same fortunes, that 
 they have rested in the same hands, and have 
 been invested in the same manner, you would 
 be tolerably sure that their amount was the 
 
94 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 same at present, without having at all a distinct 
 idea what the amount was. Or you might see 
 two equal empty vessels balanced against each 
 other, and then shot poured into each till they 
 were both full. If they still balanced each 
 other, and the experiment were at all nicely 
 managed, you would be sure that there was 
 about the same number of shot in each, and 
 yet not be able to guess within many thousands 
 what that number was. Or else (not to hunt 
 about for other instances) you might simply 
 have taken it on trust from the most sufficient 
 authority, that the quantities or numbers were 
 the same, and have made no further inquiry 
 about the matter. 
 
 E. Yes, I quite see that ; and what 
 follows ? 
 
 H. Suppose that you find, on further ex- 
 amination and enquiry, one of these quantities 
 enormously and wonderfully great, far greater 
 than anything you could have dreamed and 
 conceived, what would you then know about 
 the other ? 
 
 E. No doubt that the other quantity also 
 was prodigiously and inconceivably great. 
 
 H. Exactly so. You have solved my pro- 
 blem, as I knew you would. I could ask you 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 95 
 
 a harder riddle than this, and have no fear 
 about the answer. 
 
 E. And having obtained my answer, what 
 use do yon intend to make of it ? 
 
 H. A very obvious one. God's Wisdom and 
 Power are co-extensive. His Power extends 
 down to the smallest work of His hands. He 
 made the smallest animalcule, as well as the 
 greatest star. Its vital powers are (if I may 
 be allowed the expression) but a function of 
 His Power. You have allowed this before, and 
 will allow it again, I am sure. You ought, in 
 consistency, and in truth as well, to admit as 
 much of His Wisdom. 
 
 Ph. And we do admit it. I am sure that I 
 may here speak for Eliza, as well as myself. 
 Every one admits it, in fact, whose opinion we 
 are in the least likely to value. If that is all 
 you mean, it is the most obvious Moral of the 
 revelations of the microscope, and insisted on 
 as such by almost every itinerant lecturer you 
 come across, as well as by much higher autho- 
 rities. I do not think there is any risk of our 
 conceiving of God's Wisdom as narrower than 
 His Power. One of the first examples on the 
 subject, which I can remember as a child, was 
 the construction of a fly's leg; and this was 
 
0,6 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 produced as an example of God's Wisdom, 
 rather than of His power. And very naturally 
 so; for we associate the conception of Power 
 with scale, and force, and extent, and ideas of 
 that kind. Minuteness, contrivance, arrange- 
 ment, delicacy, and the like, are much more 
 suggestive of Wisdom than of Power. 
 
 H. Well, of course, I shall be very glad if 
 there is so general a consent on the subject as 
 you seem to think ; but, I must own, I doubt 
 it. I know quite well the way of talking about 
 the wonders of the microscope, to which you 
 allude, and quite allow that it expresses an im- 
 portant truth; but whether either those who 
 use it, or those who hear it, really mean to 
 express the same truth which I am bent on 
 proving, is very open to question. Indeed, we 
 have a case in point before us. Eliza and 
 yourself admit the truth of this general lan- 
 guage, without a moment's hesitation ; but just 
 now, when I put a particular case in rather a 
 strong manner, I saw no symptoms of such an 
 undoubting and ready assent. And yet I give 
 both you and Eliza credit for such an amount 
 of penetration, as will keep you from accepting 
 a truth in its general form, and yet declining 
 to acknowledge its particular application. 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. gj 
 
 E. You must not give me credit for any 
 sagacity. 
 
 Ph. Why really, Eliza, I think we may ac- 
 cept a compliment such as that without blush- 
 ing. Can you show me, Henry, how the view 
 which you advocate differs from the popular 
 one? 
 
 H. I will try, if you please; but I will 
 begin by saying, that it does not so much differ 
 from it as go far beyond it. What is a scien- 
 tific lecturer ordinarily understood to mean, 
 when he speaks of the Divine Wisdom as 
 evidenced in the Works of the Creator? That 
 is our question, is it not? 
 
 Ph. Yes, I suppose it is. Yqur view, whe- 
 ther right or wrong, is clear enough. 
 
 H. I will suppose him, then, to be dwelling 
 on some obvious instance of adaptation in the 
 natural world. We were talking of the leg of 
 a fly just now. Let us keep it as our example, 
 and add to it, also, the web of a spider. Our 
 lecturer (he shall be teaching the merest 
 elements) shall explain to a class of children 
 to their great instruction and delight, the dif- 
 ferent ways in which it has been supposed that 
 a fly is enabled to walk, with feet upward and 
 body downward, over a ceiling. He shall take 
 
 H 
 
98 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 a dead fly from a spider's web ; he shall exhibit 
 to them the foot, duly magnified, and show 
 them, on the convincing evidence of their own 
 eyes, which is the true explanation. He shall 
 then, in all sincerity and good faith, go on to 
 remind the children that we have here a proof of 
 the Divine Wisdom ; and that what we should 
 call, in the case of a human artist, a most in- 
 genious mechanism, was supplied to the foot of 
 the fly, to enable it to perform a work for 
 which it was intended. And should he see 
 another spider's web, hanging quite entire in 
 some stray corner between wall and ceiling, he 
 might descant upon this, too, deduce that the 
 spider was intended to catch flies, that his web 
 was devised in order that he might do so, and 
 by this and other means the balance was held 
 between the due number of spiders and flies, 
 according to that mysterious plan by which 
 the continual destruction of parts is made to 
 contribute to the preservation of the general 
 system of things. 
 
 Ph. And he would be right in all this, I 
 think. 
 
 H. And I think so, too. But before I 
 was convinced, that, in speaking of the Divine 
 Wisdom, as displayed in the structure of web, 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 99 
 
 and spider, and fly, he had exactly the same 
 meaning which I had, there would still be a 
 few points which I should feel obliged to ascer- 
 tain. My suspicion would be, I own, that he 
 only intended to imply that the most wonderful 
 skill and nicety in design and execution could 
 be traced in the formation of the species, with- 
 out any necessary reference to the individual. 
 He would have before his mind's eye, not so 
 much the particular insects which suggested 
 his remarks, as a certain type-fly and type- 
 spider, of which the visible specimens before 
 him would serve as illustrations. He would 
 stand to the actual matter-of-fact web and 
 spider and fly's leg, in much the same re- 
 lation as a mathematician does to the triangles 
 which are numbered A B C at their respective 
 corners in Euclid. He would take them only 
 as examples of the class, and not hold himself 
 answerable for any accidental peculiarities. I 
 am not finding fault with him, please to ob- 
 serve. Perhaps, as an instructor in natural 
 history, he could take no other course ; and, as 
 a popular lecturer, I do not see that he would 
 have any alternative. But his philosophy may 
 have great shortcomings, for all that. 
 
 Ph. How so, in this particular instance ? 
 
100 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 H. As I have imagined the lecturer, you 
 will allow me to imagine a few more particulars. 
 Supposing, on a microscopic examination of 
 another leg of the same fly, it should appear 
 that, from some special deformity, the appa- 
 ratus, which we had been admiring on the 
 former leg, was very incomplete on the latter ; 
 and it was thus rendered probable, that the fly, 
 on this occasion, had not fallen a victim to any 
 cunning on the part of the spider, but had, in 
 a voyage across the ceiling, lost his footing, in 
 consequence of this mechanical imperfection, 
 had fallen by the casualty into this spider's 
 web, and so lost his life ? 
 
 Ph. A most improbable case, and very un- 
 likely ever to have come to our knowledge, 
 even if it had happened. 
 
 H. I allow it ; but it is a possible case, 
 nevertheless ; and a philosophy, which meets 
 only average and ordinary instances, and cannot 
 be pushed to its extreme consequences, and be 
 made to meet extreme cases, is, as a philosophy, 
 worthless. Let me suppose then the occur- 
 rence to have happened as I have said, and to 
 be brought under the notice of the lecturer as 
 a difficulty, which suggested (though I scarcely 
 like to use the words) something like the occa- 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 10 1 
 
 sional failure of the Divine Wisdom — what do 
 you think he would say ? 
 
 Ph. He would probably regard the objection 
 as captious, and say that he could not enter 
 into exceptions; that they did not invalidate 
 the rule ; that he was treating of general laws, 
 and the manner in which they ordinarily 
 operated ; and so on. 
 
 H. And we could not blame him. He 
 marked out his province, and kept within it. 
 But it is very different when we are speaking 
 of Providence. If we then omitted to consider 
 individual and apparently exceptional cases, we 
 should at best play about our subject, without 
 really grasping it at all. 
 
 Ph. Perhaps you are right. And if so, had 
 you not better give this poor lecturer his dis- 
 missal, and complete this affair of fly and 
 spider yourself? 
 
 H. Agreed. Farewell, lecturer; I will 
 answer this objector myself. You must not, ob- 
 jector, imagine for a moment that this casualty 
 to the fly involves the slightest exception to the 
 universality of Divine Knowledge and the per- 
 fection of Divine Wisdom. You are a Christian, 
 I suppose. If so, you believe that not a sparrow 
 falls to the ground without the permission of 
 
102 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 His Providence. There is surely no a priori 
 reason why you should not believe as much 
 with regard to a fly. Their size will not, to 
 the eye of Reason, make any real distinction 
 between the two cases. And the organization 
 of the smaller animal, though different and 
 perhaps inferior, bears in no respect less the 
 marks of intention and design. You would 
 not surely exclude a fly from Divine Protection, 
 because it has cold blood instead of warm, wears 
 its brain in a ring round its throat, instead of 
 having it packed up in a little bony case, and 
 is stiffened by a membranous covering instead 
 of a back-bone. 
 
 Ph. Most assuredly I would not — if, nolens 
 volens, I am to stand for the objector. 
 
 H. So far, then, as I can see, the case is 
 exceedingly simple. The malformation of the 
 fly's leg was produced by causes operating from 
 within or from without. These causes, what- 
 ever and wherever they were, are only a form 
 of the Power of God. The same boundless 
 Power framed the ^spider, and gave it its vo- 
 racious instincts, and the web-spinning propen- 
 sitities appended thereto. That same Power, 
 by a course of causation which I do not pre- 
 sume to investigate, placed that loose particle 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. IO3 
 
 of dust on the ceiling, and poised it there so 
 delicately, that it betrayed the foot of the un- 
 wary fly that trusted to it. And I doubt not 
 for a moment, that God's Wisdom knew every- 
 thing in this transaction which God's Power 
 did. 
 
 Ph. I suppose it does not really affect the 
 question, if I say, that the animal kingdom is 
 endued Avith certain vital and animal powers 
 which work of themselves ? 
 
 H. Not in the least. God gave these vital 
 and animal powers in all their fulness. They 
 are not powers, except in Him. And I know 
 of no sense in which vital and animal powers 
 act of themselves, any more than chemical or 
 mechanical powers. But, be this as it may, 
 I guess the thought, which passed through your 
 mind. Many persons feel it more easy to think 
 of God as directing the course of the lightning, 
 than as guiding the motions of a fly. But a 
 little reflection would tell them, that nervous 
 and muscular force are as truly His creation as 
 electricity. Animate and inanimate beings are 
 His creatures alike; the laws of organic and 
 inorganic chemistry equally proceed from Him. 
 He governs carbon and nitrogen and phos- 
 phorus, whatever form they assume. 
 
104 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 Ph. Are you not in danger of taking rather 
 a materialistic turn? I was not thinking so 
 much of the body as of the vital principle, and 
 especially of the soul of man, with its myste-. 
 rious freedom. 
 
 H. Mysterious, indeed; so mysterious that 
 it would be almost inconceivable, were not its 
 absence more inconceivable still. But I am 
 sure you do not wish to entangle me in ques- 
 tions about the nature of the vital force, still 
 less in the maze of liberty and necessity. 
 Whatever be the nature of life and the power 
 of the soul, the same remark is applicable to 
 them. He made them, and He knows them. 
 
 Ph. Yes ; I see you are consistent. There 
 is nothing apparently wrong in your premises ; 
 and you only follow them out legitimately. 
 But your conclusions are startling, neverthe- 
 less. The though b of such an all-pervading 
 knowledge, descending to every possible detail 
 of thought and being, of cause and conse- 
 quence, startles and alarms the mind. There 
 is something awful in the overwhelming mass 
 of phenomena which it embraces. 
 
 H. No wonder. If we look at it as a mere 
 intellectual problem, we are drawing out the 
 idea of infinity into its consequences ; and those 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 105 
 
 are startling enough. And when we go further, 
 and think of its practical bearings, of the won- 
 derful Presence which it leads us to recognise 
 in the smallest creature and the most shifting 
 phase of nature, of ' the everlasting face-to-face 
 with God ' in every particular of life and con- 
 duct, which it involves, it might become almost 
 insupportable were it not for another thought. 
 If God's Power is infinite, and His Wisdom is 
 as great as His Power, neither is greater than 
 His Love. Dwell on it as we will, there are 
 times when the mind fails to grasp it. It seems 
 too great to be true — like some vast pile of 
 masonry, which would be strong were it but a 
 fraction of its size, but whose own weight is 
 crushing it. And then Sight may come in to 
 the help of Faith and Reason. Take a telescope, 
 and look at the nebulae and Saturn's rings; 
 and look through the microscope at a drop of 
 water, or the spiral vessels of a flower leaf: and 
 when you have seen but a little of God's Power, 
 limit His Wisdom if you dare. 
 
 E. Yes ; these revelations of nature are very 
 wonderful : and they certainly seem to favour 
 your view about Providence. But is it right 
 to speak of them as helping faith? When you 
 carried your view further than the point up to 
 
106 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 which the Bible gives us information, I thought 
 it was agreed to consider the question as one of 
 philosophy, not of religion. 
 
 H. Faith, dear Eliza, is a word with several 
 shades of meaning. It is the ' evidence of 
 things not seen/ as well as the substance of the 
 blessings which religion encourages us to hope 
 for. When we accept a truth on testimony, 
 whether it be on a religious subject or not, we 
 exercise Faith in a certain sense. So in the 
 present case, I thought of the mind as stagger- 
 ing under the mighty proportions of a truth, 
 which reason bids it accept. Sense comes in 
 to its assistance. It shows it another fact, also 
 of mightier proportions than could have been 
 deemed possible beforehand, and thus makes 
 the reception of the sister truth easier. And 
 thus I thought of Sense as a kind of witness to 
 the unseen, and used the word ' Faith/ 
 
 E. You are very likely right. But I am 
 not fond of hearing a word which seems to be- 
 long to religion, used without reference to it. 
 It seems like using a church for every-day 
 purposes. 
 
 If. I hope it involves no such desecration. 
 I would rather it were like a picture on a sacred 
 subject, which would be in place either in a 
 church or a gallery. 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. IO7 
 
 Ph. I doubt if the illustration mends your 
 case. Those who would like it in church would 
 think it out of place in the gallery, to which it 
 would probably have come from some conse- 
 crated place ; and many who admired it in the 
 gallery, would think it, and all other pictures, 
 out of place in church. 
 
 H. Cruel man ! to hoist me with my own 
 petard after that pitiless fashion. I must sur- 
 render my poor attempt to your mercy. And, 
 if Eliza will allow me, I will apparently shift 
 my ground, though I shall really only say what 
 I had in my mind before, and intended to say 
 sooner or later. Assuming that I am right in 
 my belief about the infinite detail of Divine 
 Providence, I am not so sure, Eliza, that to 
 me, and all those who agree with me, it is not 
 a matter of religious faith after all. 
 
 E. And yet you allow that it is not con- 
 tained in Holy Scripture ? 
 
 H. In the letter, it is not ; but yet it may 
 be in the spirit. Besides, no one, of course, is 
 required to believe it as an article of faith, or 
 accept it as necessary to salvation. This is 
 quite out of the question ; and yet it seems to 
 me highly probable that those who receive it 
 at all, ought to receive it as a religious truth. 
 
108 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 Ph. It is quite possible, I see. Will you 
 shew us why you think it highly probable ? 
 
 H. I will do my endeavour, though I 
 scarcely know how to begin. Let me go back 
 to a passage of Holy Scripture of which we 
 were speaking before. St. Paul, we remember, 
 told his companions on shipboard, that not a 
 hair should fall from the head of any of them. 
 Let us suppose that there was on board a per- 
 verse, pragmatical, matter-of-fact heathen sailor, 
 who professed to believe St. Paul's declaration 
 as true, but proceeded to observe, that without 
 losing a hair of his head, he might have such a 
 blow on the said head from an oar of a boat or 
 a fragment of the wreck, as might effectually 
 put an end to his life, or prevent his afterwards 
 making due use of his brains to the end of it. 
 What do you think his comrades would have 
 said to that, Eliza ? 
 
 E. He would scarcely have deserved an 
 answer. It is clear, that St. Paul's words con- 
 tained a promise, to say the least, of exemption 
 from all serious personal injury. 
 
 H. Quite so. And I suppose, on the same 
 principle, we may take it for granted, that our 
 Lord's words, with regard to the hairs of the 
 head, apply not to them only, but to the 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 109 
 
 general Care and Providence which God exer- 
 cises over our bodily frame. 
 
 E. Undoubtedly. 
 
 Ph. I should imagine the hairs of the head 
 were mentioned, to show the minuteness of 
 God's Care. The absence of one or two makes 
 no perceptible difference to us, and yet they 
 are numbered. 
 
 H. Yes ; you have anticipated what I was 
 going to say. And it is this very circumstance 
 which seems to me to prove my point. For 
 there are many cases in which a physical vari- 
 ation, which is materially and mechanically 
 less than the removal of a hair of the head, does 
 make a very perceptible difference to us. The 
 mere position, for instance, not the presence or 
 absence, of a grain of sand or gravel, will some- 
 times determine between life and death. The 
 exact locality of a crumb in the throat, or the 
 angle at which a fish-bone descends from the 
 mouth, is now and then a question of vital im- 
 portance Or, to take an instance in which the 
 moral element is more perceptibly interwoven 
 with the physical, how much often turns upon 
 a word ; and not only on its vowels and conso- 
 nants, but on its tone, its utterance, its per- 
 suasive force. We can most of us remember, 
 
110 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 I should think, more than one important crisis 
 in our lives, at which we wonder in the re- 
 trospect, when we see how thoroughly in sus- 
 pense we were to the very last moment, and 
 what a mere trifle, at that moment, turned the 
 balance. Now it seems to me, that the angle 
 of a fish-hone, the place of a crumb or a grain 
 of sand, the vocal vibrations of the air, the 
 curve of the lip or the glance of an eye, must, 
 as a merely physical phenomenon, be placed 
 below the loss of a hair in the scale of material 
 importance, or cannot, at any rate, claim to be 
 placed above it. And yet life and death, health 
 and sickness, hope and despair, happiness and 
 misery, may turn on these, or particulars like 
 them. May they not ? 
 
 Ph. Yes ; indeed they may. 
 
 H. You see, then, my argument. Particu- 
 lars of such great practical importance as these 
 cannot, according to the teaching of Holy 
 Scripture, be disregarded by God. Neither 
 can their causes be disregarded by Him. For 
 we agreed, I believe, Philip, in rejecting as 
 untenable the theory of interference, which 
 represents God, on each occasion of special 
 providence, as arresting or allowing by some 
 mysterious agency the operation of His own 
 laws. 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. Ill 
 
 Ph. We did. 
 
 H. Suppose then (I need not say that it is 
 no merely imaginary case) a person choked by 
 a fish-bone, and so killed. Life and death, we 
 all allow, are in the hands of God. A believer 
 would not doubt, that one who dies by an acci- 
 dent of this kind, dies at the time and in the 
 manner which God, in His Providence, thinks 
 best. The fish-bone is the instrument of His 
 Will. It has fixed itself in the sufferer's throat 
 by no miraculous agency, but in the ordinary 
 course of cause and effect. But only consider 
 for a moment the complication of causes which 
 placed it there. The toil of the crew of a fish- 
 ing-boat some two nights before — the condi- 
 tions of wind and wave which caused a fish with 
 a bone of this particular shape to be caught — 
 the demand and consequent supply which 
 brought it to a town some hundred miles from 
 the sea — the little circumstances which led to 
 the purchase in the town of this individual 
 fish — and a hundred other points of detail, 
 such as the light by which the dinner was 
 eaten, the exact degree of hardness or softness 
 in the fish, as dependent on the precise manner 
 of cooking, even the power of contractility 
 in the eater's throat, which may again have de- 
 
112 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 pended on his general health, or on the bracing 
 or relaxing state of the atmosphere. Vary 
 but one of these conditions, and the same result 
 would probably not have happened. And per- 
 haps a medical man could not be found till too 
 late ; and his absence was caused by the illness 
 of another patient, itself dependent on causes 
 equally remote and obscure. Could you blame 
 any one who, having first accepted the truth, 
 that death in this case happened according to 
 the Providence of God, saw His finger also in 
 every circumstance which had led to it, and 
 attributed them all to His Will ? 
 
 E. Certainly not. 
 
 H. You see, then, what I meant by the 
 possible extension of religious faith to the mi- 
 nutest detail. It is only a consequence of a 
 very legitimate process — of following out a 
 truth to its results. And it involves, when 
 rightly understood, no extraordinary demands 
 on faith. If the ordinary Christian realised 
 what he believes to be going on about him, he 
 would find that he accepted truths equally 
 wonderful. 
 
 E. I should like an instance, if you please. 
 
 H. I will take the first that occurs to me. 
 We were at Church this morning, and left it 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. I13 
 
 with the belief that God had heard our prayers. 
 Each of us felt that not only our joint offering 
 was accepted by Him, but that any secret wish 
 of our hearts, which had found an expression in 
 some part of the Liturgy, or had been expressed 
 by us in words of our own during some pause 
 in the service, was known to Him. And not 
 only were our prayers known, but our faults 
 likewise — our weak attention, our wandering 
 thoughts, the faintness and remissness of our 
 praise. We realised, in the course of public 
 worship, that each individual soul was open 
 before God. And this, of course, is no local 
 phenomenon. What is true of the congrega- 
 tion in Norton Church, is true of that in Sutton 
 Church as well. God, we believe, knows the 
 separate thoughts and feelings of every man 
 who has worshipped in every Church in Eng- 
 land to-day. But we are only at the beginning 
 still. Why confine ourselves to the ten thou- 
 sand or more Churches of England? What is 
 true of them is true of every place throughout 
 the world, where men are met together in the 
 name of *- , and for His service. But not 
 only this. God, who is present with the two or 
 three, is not absent from the one. Does any 
 one who is shut out from the congregation, and 
 
114 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 sends up a cry to God in the moment of dis- 
 tress or pain, think for a moment that he is 
 heard the less, because God is listening, at that 
 moment, to the prayers of assembled thousands ? 
 And all this refers only to those who know God. 
 But He does not forget those who are igno- 
 rant of Him. Both from within and from without, 
 He calls every heart to repentance. He watches, 
 with a tender care, for the first stirring of the 
 soul, the first pulse of spiritual life, the slightest 
 trace of warmth and motion. I am almost 
 afraid of trespassing on Holy Ground; but if I 
 am cautious, perhaps I may proceed with my 
 thought. I, do not endeavour, or wish you to 
 endeavour, to localise the presence of God ; to 
 say in what sense He is everywhere, or in what 
 sense He is in one place rather than another; 
 or to try and form the least conception how He 
 hears prayer. It is sufficient for our present 
 purpose that we think of Him as a Being with 
 Consciousness, and of that Consciousness as cog- 
 nisant of His creature's prayers. How wonder- 
 ful it is to try and conceive of the blended 
 music of supplication, as it rises up to the 
 throne of Grace. There are morning and even- 
 ing prayer poured forth, every moment, from 
 millions of lips, as each portion of the world 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 115 
 
 successively dips down into the darkness, or 
 rolls forth exultingly into the light of the sun. 
 Children are praying by their mother's knees, 
 and strong men by their bedside ; and schools 
 and families are offering up their worship ; and 
 congregations, assembled in His name, are bow- 
 ing the knee before Him, or singing His praise, 
 or listening to the preaching and reading of 
 His word. In other places, the first dreadful 
 wail of grief is pouring forth from a widow's 
 heart ; and the name of his Saviour is ascend- 
 ing together with his soul, from the lips of a 
 departing saint ; and the cry of the shipwrecked 
 mariner is heard above the loudest dash of the 
 wave upon the rock ; and the soldier calls on 
 God, as his horse rolls over him, amid the flash 
 of lances and the roar of cannon. A strange 
 concert this must be ! If man or spirit could 
 only catch the least echo of its general effect, 
 the least shadow of its overwhelming volume, 
 it would sound like the clear voice of joy, or 
 the shriller cry of grief, rising amid and above 
 the blare of trumpets and the roar of thunder. 
 But it is no merely general effect which reach- 
 es the ear of God. If we know anything about 
 His relations to the human soul, we know that 
 He recognises the minutest individuality of 
 
Il6 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 every prayer which every soul sends up from 
 earth to heaven. He not only hears the child, 
 but knows the exact measure of its ignorance 
 and weakness, as well as of its faith and love. 
 He has fixed, for each of us, the burden of the 
 day; and perceives the degree of sincerity and 
 zeal with which we call upon Him for strength 
 to bear it. He sees how much of public wor- 
 ship is true devotion, and how much is mere 
 formality, or enthusiasm, or infectious fanati- 
 cism ; can tell the proportions in which vanity, 
 and the love of music, and the spirit of praise 
 are mingled in the psalm which rises from every 
 country congregation; and when, in many a 
 foreign city, the cathedral is full of kneeling 
 crowds, and the sound of sweet voices blends 
 with the mellow music of the organ, and the 
 smoke of the rising incense half hides the gor- 
 geous vestments of the priests, as they minister 
 before the altar, He can perceive at once, in 
 what degree this outward pomp is accompanied 
 by true spiritual worship, and what is to be 
 attributed to the ear, and the eye, and the false 
 belief of a local instead of a Spiritual Presence. 
 And not only the present moment is open 
 before Him, but the Past and the Future. He 
 knows the history of every soul, and its destiny. 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. II7 
 
 When He hears the cry of repentance, He sees 
 far more clearly than the penitent himself, each 
 detail of former sin ; He knows, with a certainty 
 wholly impossible to man, the issue of that re- 
 pentance. He hears not only the utterance of 
 the lips, but of the heart. He is conscious of 
 each movement of every soul before it is con- 
 scious of it itself. If our thoughts are quicker 
 than our words, far more is His thought quicker 
 than ours ; and, before we have time to breathe 
 the prayer, it is registered in heaven. We all 
 believe this, if we think on the subject at all. 
 Can any amount of knowledge about the mate- 
 rial world, and the relations and effects of its 
 several parts, be more wonderful than this? 
 
 E. No, indeed. 
 
 H. And observe, dear Eliza, I make no un- 
 due demands on your Faith. You must believe 
 as much, if you are consistent. Once accept 
 the idea of infinity, and all this, or something 
 else as wonderful, follows as a necessary conse- 
 quence. Excuse my mixing you up, even in 
 speculation, with such people ; but the pure 
 Deist must admit the truth of what I have been 
 saying, as well as the Christian. Everything 
 is the result of the nicest Order and Design ; or 
 else there are no such things as order and design 
 
Il8 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 at all. There is no standing-ground between 
 these two positions. And I leave you, or Philip, 
 or any one else, to judge whether the entire 
 absence of design in the world is not at least 
 as difficult to believe as its most perfect pre- 
 sence. The irreligious hypothesis involves, if 
 I am not much mistaken, the greater specula- 
 tive difficulties of the two, to say nothing of its 
 being otherwise uncomfortable. 
 
 Ph. It seems so, indeed, and 
 
 There is no telling how long the conversation 
 might have continued, but for a very simple 
 incident. The door opened, and in walked a 
 friend ; one of those few friends whom we re- 
 joice to see on a Sunday evening : a good, warm, 
 genial man, no philosopher, but a sincere Chris- 
 tian, and the best of neighbours to rich and 
 poor. All was free and unrestrained in his 
 manner and presence ; and yet we always knew 
 that nothing would fall from his lips at all at 
 variance with the gravest and most thoughtful 
 mood. He had the happy power of talking o 
 persons as if they were things, and of things as 
 if they were persons. He could discuss all the 
 little events of the place and all their little 
 embroilments with scrupulous exactness as to 
 the matter of fact, telling us neither more nor 
 
DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 1 19 
 
 less than he knew, and giving his hearty sym- 
 pathy to what he believed the right side, yet 
 without passing uncharitable judgment on the 
 parties concerned; and, for the most part, in- 
 deed, without passing a judgment at all. On 
 the other hand, he could throw a kind of vital 
 warmth into the most inanimate subject. He 
 took an interest in every form, and colour, and 
 substance about him ; would pry into the struc- 
 ture of a rock with the air of a man looking 
 into the countenance of an old friend; could 
 talk about the old camp at the top of the hill, 
 till it was hard to believe he had not been on 
 intimate terms with the old Romans who inha- 
 bited it ; knew thoroughly how each ammonite 
 and terebratula that he dug out of its bed, had 
 comported itself in the days when hard rock was 
 but watery mud; was on sentimental terms 
 with every flower in his garden, and carried on 
 hard business transactions with his apple trees 
 and gooseberry bushes, half-regretting, mean- 
 while, the necessary conditions of his relations 
 to them. On this particular month of Sep- 
 tember, he happened to have many little disclo- 
 sures to make, animal, vegetable, mineral, social, 
 and general. So we listened while his cheery 
 voice went on, catching the pleasant infec 
 
120 DETAILS AND DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 tion of his earnestness, and putting in a remark 
 or question now and then, just to make him go 
 on more easily. And the supper came and 
 went, and the clock struck ten. And then (oh ! 
 happy rustics, if they knew their own happi- 
 ness !) we all began to think that the proper 
 time for talking was over. 
 
121 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PURPOSES OP GOD. 
 
 T~\0 not be tired, gentle reader, of our small 
 ■**' circle. Allow us one more evening's 
 conversation j and our subject, though, far from 
 exhausted, shall be obtruded on your attention 
 no longer. 
 
 It is a chilly evening, and we are beginning 
 to think of frosts and winter. We gather close 
 round the fire, and congratulate ourselves on 
 living a little later than the period at which a 
 stern family tradition fixed, in most households, 
 the exact day of the year in which the fire 
 should first be lighted. We shiver at the 
 thought of waiting for the first of October, or 
 a still later day, in spite of the whistling of 
 winds, the pattering of uncomfortable rain, the 
 development of every latent draught in the 
 house, the fall of the thermometer, and the 
 shrinking of fingers. We watch a billet of 
 beech wood sending out its blue flame, and 
 from it every now and then a small convoy of 
 sparks, which, having been dimly visible for some 
 
122 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 time in the midst of the combustion, like stars 
 in the milky way, detach themselves at last, 
 and go dancing up the chimney. And so we 
 sit in silence and in twilight, till candles are 
 brought, and disturb us in our reverie. Then 
 Philip, without preface or apology, recalls our 
 old topic, and begins. 
 
 Ph. I have certainly learned something, as I 
 expected I should, in our late conversations 
 about Providence. But will you excuse me, 
 Henry, if I say that I am not yet quite satisfied, 
 and am, indeed, in some respects, less satisfied 
 than before we began to talk on the subject at 
 all? 
 
 H. I have nothing to excuse, as I need 
 scarcely say. You and Eliza have very kindly 
 let me think aloud, which is often a great clari- 
 fier of the conceptions. I have seen my own 
 meaning more clearly in endeavouring to state 
 it to you. Then you have corrected me now 
 and then; and often helped me in the argu- 
 ment. I do not think we have often differed 
 much in ultimate conclusions. A little ex- 
 planation has generally sufficed to remove any 
 appearance of disagreement. I would gladly 
 hope that this is a consequence of our being 
 substantially in the right, and, therefore, really 
 
THE PUEPOSES OF GOD. 1 23 
 
 of one mind, and does not arise from any un- 
 satisfactory compromise of opinions. 
 
 Ph. I hope so too. I have certainly spoken 
 my mind ; and so has Eliza, I think. 
 
 E. Yes, so far as I have any. 
 
 H. I am glad to hear it. And if so, let us 
 try, Philip, if you and I cannot attain a more 
 genial agreement on the whole subject than we 
 seem hitherto to have reached. An hour's talk 
 or so should, I am tolerably sure, set all to 
 rights. We agree up to the point at which all 
 fear of serious difference is past. If we seem 
 to differ, the cause lies, probably, in some differ- 
 ence in our way of approaching the subject. 
 But if you have clambered up one side of the 
 hill, and I made my way up another, we ought, 
 nevertheless, to have much the same prospect 
 if we pause in our climbing on the same table- 
 land, and look about us together. We are far 
 from the top, but we can rest here at any rate ; 
 and, perhaps, it is not well to endeavour to 
 mount further. 
 
 Ph. I am quite disposed for the survey ; and 
 I feel with you that our courses have become 
 more alike as we proceeded. I did not at all 
 like the point of view at which we closed our 
 first talk on the subject. 
 
124 THE PUKPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 H. Yes; you shewed that clearly enough. 
 I seemed to you the advocate of mere Power, I 
 might almost say of sheer Force, as the 
 Governor of the World. And if I succeeded 
 in convincing you at all, it was so much against 
 your will that (if there is any truth in the old 
 proverb) you scarcely changed your opinion. 
 The obstacles you put in my way were so great, 
 that I do not think 1 should have had much 
 chance of removing them, if I had not had 
 the Truth to help me. 
 
 Ph. Yes, I allow that ; and I must also own 
 that, on that point, I am now really convinced. 
 You have quite fulfilled your promise. When 
 I look back on the subject of that first conver- 
 sation, I must own that all my repugnance to 
 the idea of Power has disappeared. It has lost 
 none of its grandeur, but all its cold impersonal 
 terror, as the idea of Wisdom has risen up by 
 its side. The same awful features wear a differ- 
 ent expression; for they have no longer the 
 marble look of a colossal statue, but are lit by a 
 vital and Divine intelligence. 
 
 H. I am quite glad to hear you say so. 
 Where is our difference then ? But what say 
 you, Eliza, to all this ? 
 
 E. I do not quite know what to say. You 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 25 
 
 must remember that I was not present at your 
 first conversation. But I am sorry to be obliged 
 to differ on one point from what Philip says. 
 You do not seem to me, Henry, to have fulfilled 
 your promise. 
 
 H. How so? 
 
 E. I will take up Philip's metaphor of the 
 great statue. You have shewn us the full ex- 
 pression of Intelligence, I allow ; but you have 
 not shewn us, as you promised, the look of 
 Love. 
 
 Ph. You have anticipated me, Eliza. At 
 least, I think that our meaning is much the 
 same. I was going to say that we seemed 
 almost to have ignored a Moral Purpose in 
 speaking of Providence. And yet it is the 
 conception of Providence, with which common 
 language and feeling, and, I think, common 
 sense too, begin. We have wandered far away 
 from it ; or, I should rather say, we started at 
 a distance from it, and though we may have 
 come nearer to it in the course of conversation, 
 we have never reached it. Power belongs to 
 quite another family of ideas ; and Wisdom, 
 though not so far removed, is by no means the 
 same thing with Purpose, and Providence, and 
 Love. Do you not think so, Henry ? I have 
 
126 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 given my assent to the matter of our conversa- 
 tions, and I have consequently the less scruple 
 in holding you, to a high degree, responsible 
 for their manner. 
 
 H. If only I am sure that the matter is 
 fairly correct, I do not mind being responsible 
 for my full share of the manner, or even a little 
 more. And I quite think, with Eliza and your- 
 self, that we have left the part of our subject, 
 which has most vital importance and practical 
 interest, to the last. But we followed the 
 due order in this. If we wish to understand 
 the working of a complex machine, we had 
 better examine its parts first, and trace their 
 purpose afterward. Seeing it at rest is the 
 best preparation for appreciating it in motion. 
 
 Ph. Rather a mechanical simile. Is it not 
 drawn too exclusively from human works, to be 
 trusted where the Divine work is in ques- 
 tion? 
 
 H. I did not mean my illustration as an 
 argument; nor does it apply exclusively to 
 human works. It is as true of the human eye 
 as it is of a steam-engine. Living and palpi- 
 tating organisms will not stand still to be 
 examined. But be this as it may, we need not 
 discuss the subject now. I think we are all 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 27 
 
 agreed in one point. Having spoken of Divine 
 Power and Divine Wisdom, we are to proceed 
 to Divine Love. We have considered, however 
 imperfectly, what He does, and what He 
 knows ; we will speak, in conclusion, of what 
 He wills. Is not that your wish ? 
 
 E. It is. 
 
 H. But though there is much food for con- 
 templation, I really do not think there is much 
 matter for argument here. The Purposes of 
 God are quite beyond the reach of the hu- 
 man mind. We are indebted to Revelation for 
 almost everything beyond uncertain and un- 
 proved guesses on the subject. Reason has very 
 little to do here, except to receive the teaching 
 of Faith, and follow it out to its consequences, 
 
 E. Are not the Power and Wisdom of God 
 as much beyond the reach of the human mind 
 as His Purposes? 
 
 H. Not quite, dear Eliza, at least not in 
 the same sense. His Power and Wisdom are 
 in all His Works. His eternal Power and 
 Godhead, we are told, are understood by the 
 things which are made. There is no power 
 which can for a moment erect itself against 
 His Power, no wisdom which can withstand 
 His Wisdom. 
 
J 28 THE PUEPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 E. And, of course, we may also say, that 
 there is no goodness like His Goodness. 
 
 H. Of course ; but there is this great differ- 
 ence. There is nothing in Nature which stands 
 up against His Power, or rivals His Wisdom. 
 But there is something within us and about us 
 which is opposed to His Goodness — and that 
 is, Evil. 
 
 Ph. And how does that affect the case? 
 You are not prepared, I know, to discuss the 
 origin of evil. 
 
 H. No ; and I do not want to go into the 
 metaphysics of our subject at all. But thus 
 much, I think, is pretty clear. Human reason 
 can conceive of the universe as being one great 
 design, attributable to one Almighty Power. 
 It can learn much of its laws and construction. 
 It has a growing and increasing knowledge 
 how things are. There is little which looks 
 like positive weakness thwarting the Divine 
 Power, or positive folly neutralising Divine 
 Wisdom. But there is so much that looks like 
 positive evil thwarting Divine Goodness, that 
 speculation, of itself, may well be puzzled to the 
 last degree. And Keason without Revelation 
 has never been able to give more than vague 
 and unsatisfactory guesses why things are. 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 29 
 
 E. And has Revelation answered the ques- 
 tion? 
 
 H. No, I do not think it has. It is meant 
 to give us practical, and not speculative, 
 guidance. It tells us enough to light our path 
 in life, and to shew us our great destiny. But 
 it does not teach us any general comprehensive 
 scheme of God's Purposes. It gives us Truth, 
 but not a System. 
 
 E. Surely it teaches us the great scheme of 
 Salvation. 
 
 H. It does ; but I hope you will not mis- 
 understand me when I say that this scheme is 
 not, theoretically, complete. The economy of 
 Salvation is founded on another economy, which 
 it presupposes, and does not supersede. And 
 of this previous economy, the Bible tells us very 
 little. 
 
 E. I must own I do not understand you, 
 though I wish to do so. 
 
 H. I will try to explain my meaning. And 
 forgive me, if, in order to do so more readily, I 
 ask you a few easy questions. You will answer 
 them, if you can, 1 know. 
 
 E. I will. 
 
 H. Then I will begin my catechism. Why 
 was life given you ? 
 
 K 
 
130 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 E. I should say, that I might rise from a 
 death of sin to a life of righteousness, and at 
 last attain to Heaven. 
 
 H. Very well. And why was life given to 
 Adam? 
 
 E. That he might continue in the state of 
 innocency in which God had placed him. 
 
 H. Very well again. And why was life 
 given to all other creatures besides man at the 
 Creation ? 
 
 E. That Adam might rule them in Paradise. 
 
 H. True as far as it goes, Eliza ; but you 
 will scarcely, on reflection, think it to be the 
 whole truth, Adam was intended to rule 
 them, no doubt; but all the exulting and 
 abounding life of the animal kingdom was 
 scarcely meant for that purpose alone. 
 
 E. I suppose not. Life was meant, I should 
 think, to be enjoyment also. 
 
 H. And what was Death meant to be? 
 That could scarcely be enjoyment. 
 
 E. But we were speaking of animals in 
 Paradise ; and there was no death there. Death 
 came by sin. 
 
 H. No doubt death came by sin to Adam. 
 Do you mean the remark to apply to the brute 
 creation as well ? 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 131 
 
 E. I certainly did. Is there any reason to 
 the contrary? 
 
 H. I do not pledge myself, or wish you to 
 pledge yourself, to either view ; but you should 
 know, that there are two very different views on 
 the subject. You have been accustomed to 
 think, I imagine, that before the Fall of Man, 
 there was no death in the world ; and that 
 death, and pain, and misery, both in man and 
 in the lower animals, are the consequence of 
 his sin. Is it not so ? 
 
 E. Yes, I certainly thought so. What do 
 you mean that other people think ? 
 
 H. Why, there is a very different belief 
 about all this, which I merely wish to explain, 
 without expressing any opinion of its correct- 
 ness. It is as follows : — The animal kingdom 
 has always been liable to death, and conse- 
 quently to suffering. Even man himself, in a 
 state of innocency, was probably, so far as his 
 natural powers went, mortal ; but, while he was 
 still innocent, the divine gift of immortality 
 clothed him like a robe. He fell ; and death 
 extended to him the sway which it had pre- 
 viously exercised over the lower animals. His 
 fall has probably increased their suffering in 
 many ways; but even had he not fallen, 
 
132 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 pleasure and pain, life and death, destruction 
 and reparation, would still have gone on in 
 their mysterious circle. 
 
 E. And what evidence is there in favour of 
 such a belief? 
 
 H. More than you would probably expect 
 at first. It is very much favoured, I need not 
 say, by Geology, which finds in a bed of chalk 
 or a layer of rock abundant proof that life and 
 death were running their course in very varied 
 forms long before Adam and Eve existed. Yet 
 it is no invention of geologists, but seems to 
 have suggested itself to many thinkers in very 
 early times as the most natural and obvious 
 interpretation of Scripture. And perhaps if 
 you were to refer to the Bible with the inten- 
 tion of seeing how far this view tallied with its 
 words, you would find a much greater con- 
 formity than you are prepared just now to 
 believe. 
 
 E. I can assure you that I do not wish to 
 disbelieve it, if it is true. But if it were so, 
 how would it bear on our present subject? 
 
 H. Pretty directly, I think. It would 
 shew that there was another economy under- 
 lying Christianity, and not superseded by it. 
 It would point to some lasting, and I might 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 33 
 
 almost say unchangeable, Purpose of God, of 
 which we can trace the existence, while we 
 know nothing, or next to nothing, of its nature. 
 A dispensation is still in force, which existed 
 before the Gospel, and the effects of which, 
 however modified, are still seen and experienced 
 every day. It comprehends not only man, but 
 the lower animals as well. It has gone on 
 working from the most remote periods, long 
 before man existed, and while race after race 
 of organised beings have succeeded each other 
 on the earth. Not only has individual followed 
 on individual, and species on species, in almost 
 infinite succession ; but the very type has been 
 repeatedly changed. The vast monsters im- 
 bedded in the rock have no brethren now 
 roaming in the forest. And where a relation- 
 ship can be traced, the resemblance is often so 
 disguised by the difference of scale or other 
 accidents, that science alone can perceive it. 
 The amphitherium has grown into an elephant, 
 and the saurian shrunk to a lizard. But in 
 spite of all these changes in the past and 
 differences in the present, all the various deve- 
 lopments and degrees of physical power and 
 intelligence, amidst variations of climate and 
 convulsions of nature, while earth has been 
 
134 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 subsiding into sea, and dry land rising from 
 the ocean, the same law of life and death, of 
 destruction and reproduction, of enjoyment and 
 suffering, of the hostility of species to species, 
 and the instinctive care of eggs or young, so 
 far as it is necessary for the preservation of the 
 race, has still been working on. 
 
 E. And what do you infer from this ? 
 
 H. I do not exactly wish to infer anything, 
 at least not anything positively. I have owned 
 the uncertainty of my data, and must not pre- 
 tend to certainty in my conclusions. But the 
 very doubt, indeed, will serve my purpose as 
 well as a certainty. It is enough for my argu- 
 ment, if you admit that man has not only a 
 special destiny proposed to him, which is the 
 subject of Revelation, but is also a part of a 
 great comprehensive scheme, which includes the 
 animal creation in general, and of the purposes 
 of which he is nearly, or quite, as ignorant as 
 they are. 
 
 Ph. But there are some passages in the 
 Bible which are supposed to throw light on the 
 destinies of the brute creation. 
 
 H. They are supposed to do so; but it is 
 sometimes doubtful if they bear on the subject 
 at all; and, if they do, it is a very dubious 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 35 
 
 light which they bring to it. They may be 
 meant to teach us our ignorance about it ; but 
 they yield no positive knowledge. The ray of 
 light shoots into a region where there is neither 
 object to reflect it nor medium to refract it, 
 and illumines nothing but itself. 
 
 Ph. And why enter this world of shadows ? 
 
 H. A seasonable question, though I do not 
 think I have entered it, however near I may 
 have been to its boundaries. I will depart from 
 its vicinity, only telling Eliza, as she wished, 
 the probable result of my investigation. It 
 seems exceedingly likely, for many reasons 
 (though we have only touched on one) that the 
 Purposes of God are as infinite as His Works. 
 We see much of His Works; but compara- 
 tively little of His Purposes. Revelation has 
 instructed us in those of His Purposes toward 
 ourselves, which it is most important for us to 
 know. But it does not tell us all even on this 
 head ; and, as to His Purposes towards other 
 parts of His Creation, it preserves all but an 
 absolute silence. We have then, as I have said, 
 enough information on the subject for our 
 practical guidance; but not enough to enable 
 us to form a system, or, perhaps, to justify us 
 in attempting to form it. We had better rest 
 
136 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 in the Truth as God has revealed it to us, and 
 not endeavour to combine it with our own im- 
 perfect guesses or fancied inferences. We know 
 this at least, that whatever be the tendencies 
 and destinies of the marvellous system of which 
 we are in one sense a part, neither life, nor 
 death, nor any other creature, can ever separate 
 us from His Love. 
 
 Ph. I quite fall in with your view. There 
 can be no absolute need of system here, even 
 were it possible, and we are far from knowing 
 that it is. Our question then, it seems, assumes 
 a very definite complexion. It will run some- 
 how as follows, will it not? What light does 
 Holy Scripture throw on the Divine Purposes 
 towards us ? 
 
 H. It will. At least that meets my mean- 
 ing. Does it suit yours, also, Eliza? 
 
 E. Yes, perfectly. 
 
 Ph. Well, that is the question ; where shall 
 we find the answer? 
 
 H. We must all contribute, I suppose. Will 
 you begin, Eliza ? 
 
 E. If I must, I will begin with a very brief 
 text, c God is Love/ 
 
 H. A very full text, though a very brief one. 
 If we could exhaust its meaning, we should 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 137 
 
 exhaust the subject as well. It seems to tell us 
 something, not only of the "Work or the Will 
 of God, but of God Himself. He is not only 
 the Source and Father of Love, but, if I may 
 so speak, His very nature is Love. 
 
 Ph. Could we say that all the Moral Attri- 
 butes of God are summed up in Love ? 
 
 H. I am afraid it is a question on which we 
 could say very little, without running great risk 
 of breaking the rule which we have lately laid 
 down, by trying to form a system where system 
 is out of place. So we had better not attempt 
 to answer it. 
 
 Ph. I suppose you are right ; but does not 
 Bishop Butler touch on it somewhere ? 
 
 H. Yes; he mentions it as the opinion of 
 some men, that the only character of God is 
 that of simple, absolute Benevolence. But he 
 recommends extreme caution in speaking on 
 the subject; and warns us that we are apt to 
 make very free with Divine Goodness in our 
 speculations. 
 
 Ph. Yes, I remember; and it is an error 
 into which we must be careful not to fall now. 
 But we may say, I think, that Love is in some 
 peculiar and especial sense a part of the Divine 
 Nature, without running into danger. 
 
138 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 H. I quite think so too. There is only one 
 other text, I think, which uses the same form 
 in speaking of God — ' God is Light.' 
 
 E. Is not f God is a Spirit ' another ? 
 
 H. I think not quite, dear Eliza. Light 
 and Love are both abstract words ; but Spirit 
 is not. God is called a Spirit, and True, and 
 One. But it is not said, directly, that God is 
 Spirituality, or Truth, or Unity. And these 
 are the expressions which would answer exactly 
 to ' God is Light/ and ' God is Love.' 
 
 E. Thank you. I quite see there is a dis- 
 tinction; and I suppose that this shows that 
 Philip was right in saying that Love was an 
 Attribute of God in some particular and espe- 
 cial manner. 
 
 H. No doubt he was right. And, if so, we 
 may expect to find further information in Holy 
 Scripture on the subject, so far, that is, as it is 
 of practical concern to ourselves. 
 
 E. The Psalms abound in declarations of 
 the Goodness of God, do they not? As for 
 instance, ' the Lord is loving unto every man ; 
 and His Mercy is over all His Works/ 
 
 H. A very comprehensive declaration. 
 Would you mind, Eliza, if we only considered 
 the former part of it? We wish to speak of the 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 39 
 
 Purposes of God ; and we had better confine 
 ourselves, on the whole, to His Purposes to- 
 wards ourselves. If not, we shall soon be afloat 
 on the sea of infinity once more, and (as Scrip- 
 ture does not say much on the subject) without 
 any sufficient guide. We will believe that the 
 Goodness, as well as the Wisdom of God, 
 watches over sparrow, and fly, and spider, as 
 well as over man. Had we not better be con- 
 tent with this belief; and keep our inquiries 
 within narrower limits ? We shall find there is 
 mystery and wonder enough, if we think of man 
 alone. 
 
 E. Yes, it will be the wiser course. So I 
 will only repeat the words ' the Lord is loving 
 unto every man.' 
 
 H. Most pleasant words, as the voice of 
 thanksgiving always is. But, as they are words 
 of thanksgiving, I would rather employ them 
 when we have concluded an inquiry, than when 
 we are beginning it. 
 
 Ph. Why so ? They are true in either place. 
 
 H. They are true, as I believe from my 
 heart. But, for all that, I had rather not use 
 them in argument. The Psalms seem meant 
 to be the expression of sanctified and exalted 
 human feeling. And the language of emotion 
 
I40 THE PURPOSES OP GOD. 
 
 never aims at exact logical correctness, though 
 it often attains to it, or to something higher 
 and better. In the General Thanksgiving, for 
 instance, we declare that we give God ' most 
 humble and hearty thanks ' for His Goodness. 
 And yet, I fear, our thanks are not always 
 either most humble or most hearty. But who 
 would restrict or alter the language of his praise 
 for such a reason ? We are sure that God will 
 not be angry with our words, if only we wish to 
 praise Him as saints and angels do. 
 
 Ph. But the General Thanksgiving is not 
 Holy Scripture. 
 
 H. I will take, then, an example from the 
 Psalms themselves. It is said there that God 
 ' giveth food to all flesh' ; and yet it is a sim- 
 ple matter of fact, that men are occasionally 
 starved to death. But, for all this, you would 
 not feel any repugnance to using the words of 
 the Psalm in Church, though you had some 
 shocking case of starvation, from the newspa- 
 pers, fresh on your mind. I do not want to go 
 into the reason of this ; but the fact, I suppose, 
 is certain. 
 
 Ph. It is a long question ; and, perhaps, we 
 had better not enter on it now. So I will add 
 to Eliza's quotation, or substitute for it, as the 
 
THE PURPOSES OP GOD. 141 
 
 case may be, the results of an observation of 
 my own. You alluded j ust now, Henry, though 
 without quoting it, to that noble passage which 
 concludes the eighth chapter of the Epistle to 
 the Romans, — 'I am persuaded, that neither 
 death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, 
 nor powers, nor things present, nor things to 
 come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other 
 creature, shall be able to separate us from the 
 love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' 
 H. Yes, I did allude to it. 
 Ph. Well, the course of our conversation 
 has reminded me of a remark which occurred to 
 me some time ago as I was reading that por- 
 tion of the Epistle, which is surely argumenta- 
 tive enough. There is probably no part of 
 St. Paul's writings, in which he speaks so forci- 
 bly and emphatically of the love of God, as the 
 passage which immediately precedes, or I 
 should rather say introduces, his most difficult 
 speculations on the most difficult of subjects — 
 Predestination. I allude particularly to the 
 ten or eleven verses at the end of the eighth 
 chapter. There are the closing wcrds, which I 
 repeated just now. Immediately before them 
 comes the question ' Who shall separate us from 
 the love of Christ V which is answered by the 
 
142 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 assurance that even in tribulation, distress, and 
 famine, we are more than conquerors through 
 Him that loved us. Then we have other ex- 
 pressions of confidence thrown into the same 
 interrogative forms. ' If God be for us, who 
 can be against us ? He that spared not His 
 own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how 
 shall He not with Him also freely give us all 
 things ?' And the words with which St. Paul 
 prefaces his short summary of the scheme of 
 Predestination are among the most consoling 
 and strengthening which we find in the 
 Epistles. ' All things work together for good 
 to them that love God.' 
 
 E. The last text is very much like one in 
 the Psalms, which I should be sorry to think I 
 might not take literally, and depend on as 
 much as I can. f All the paths of the Lord are 
 mercy and truth, unto such as keep His Cove- 
 nant and His Testimonies.' 
 
 H. Build on it as much as you please, 
 Eliza. There will be no fear of your foundation 
 failing you. It seems to me not only a definite 
 and precise statement, but meant to be definite 
 and precise, and to be used as you would use 
 it. Its very limitation gives it a point. It 
 does not apply to all men ; but its application 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 143 
 
 is most direct to those to whom it does apply. 
 It has, no doubt, a very close relation to the 
 teaching of St. Paul -, although the Psalmist is 
 raising his voice to God when overcome by 
 the sense of desolation and misery, while the 
 Apostle is looking boldly and hopefully forward 
 through the sorrows of this world to the next, 
 and uttering words which sound like a trumpet. 
 The strain is the same in either case, though 
 in a different key. But I think we ought to 
 observe one particular in the language both of 
 David and of St. Paul. It is not of universal 
 application. The paths of the Lord are not 
 said to be mercy and truth to all men, but to 
 such as keep His Covenant. All things, we are 
 told, work together for good, not to all men, 
 but to those who love God, or, as the next 
 words run, the Called. These promises are to 
 the elect, and not to all. 
 
 Ph. I should not have expected the limita- 
 tion of the promise from you ; but I think you 
 are right in making it. 
 
 E. And I am afraid it is very wrong ; but 
 I am quite sorry to hear one of you making the 
 limitation, and the other assenting to it. It 
 seems quite curious to me that I have so often 
 thought of the words both of David and of 
 
144 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 St. Paul, without its occurring to me that there 
 was any expression in either text which nar- 
 rowed its meaning. 
 
 H. It may not seem so curious to other 
 people, perhaps; but let that pass. You 
 must not accuse me of making a limitation, 
 because I find one made. Nothing is more 
 foreign and repulsive to my instinct and my 
 reason and my faith, than to explain away the 
 majesty of an universal Truth, and diminish 
 all into some. But neither taste, nor reason, 
 nor any thing else, can justify me if, where 
 God has written some, I insist on reading all. 
 
 E. And would you exclude all but a certain 
 number from the mercies of God ? 
 
 H. Not I ; but I am bound in truthfulness 
 to say, that the promises in question do not 
 apply directly to mankind in general. At the 
 same time, I dare not, if I would, narrow God's 
 mercy. There are other texts which do apply 
 to mankind at large. And even the passages 
 of which we are talking, do, I believe, indirectly 
 apply to all. 
 
 JE. How can they apply indirectly ? 
 
 H. That is very easily explained. I need 
 only call a single text to my aid. ' Who will 
 have all men to be saved, and to come unto the 
 
THE PURPOSES OP GOD. I45 
 
 knowledge of the Truth/ It is not His Will 
 which excludes any from the circle of those 
 who love Him. He promises that all things 
 shall work together for good, not only to those 
 who love Him now, but to all who shall love 
 Him hereafter. If His choicest blessings are 
 bestowed only within the boundary of His 
 sanctuary, yet the sanctuary is open to all. 
 Some have the promise absolutely; the rest, 
 subject to a condition. All shall be theirs, if 
 they will but enter. 
 
 Ph. And what if they will not enter ? 
 
 H. Let us leave that subject alone. We 
 are talking about the Gospel, and not preach- 
 ing the Law. 1 think that any one who reads 
 the New Testament with an unprejudiced mind, 
 will see that those who refuse God's blessings 
 do all that man can do to frustrate and not to 
 further His purposes. We are enquiring what 
 those purposes are. And we have made some 
 advances in the enquiry. He would have the 
 wicked become good; and for the good, 
 Eliza ? 
 
 E. Please do not ask me. I have not been 
 successful of late when I tried to answer your 
 questions. If I were to quote my favourite texts 
 again, I should fear some fresh restrictions. 
 
 L 
 
146 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 H. Nay, do not be afraid. I have done, as 
 I hope, with that disagreeable work. There is 
 a fair field before you. Repeat the dear words 
 again; and give them all the force you can. 
 ' All things work together for good to them 
 that love God/ 'All the paths of the Lord are 
 mercy and truth unto such as keep His cove- 
 nant and His testimonies/ 
 
 E. What, no more limitations ? 
 
 H. Not the shade of one. I have dismissed 
 them all ; at least I hope so. You must forgive 
 me if I seemed to like them for their own sake. 
 But I made them, I believe, simply from a 
 respect to justice and prudence. We must not 
 overrate our resources because we know them 
 to be great, and wish them greater. The re- 
 sult may be, that they will fail us at the hour 
 of need, and make us perhaps distrust them 
 unduly for the future. We should not only 
 reckon the cost before we begin, but make sure 
 that we can defray it. And I hope this has 
 been done. Let us now be happy misers, if 
 you please, and count our treasures over. Un- 
 less, indeed, you wish to impose restrictions in 
 your turn, and to limit the meaning of all. 
 
 E. I have not the slightest wish to do so. 
 
 H. Nor have I. In entertaining such a 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 147 
 
 wish, besides being unnecessarily suspicious of 
 the extent of God's mercies, I should also be 
 false to myself. I should retract, in connection 
 with Revelation, a Truth which I delight to 
 uphold as a matter of Reason. I should be 
 fixing, in spite of the Word of God, a limit to 
 His Goodness, when I have denied, on grounds 
 of reason and experience, that any limit can be 
 fixed to His Wisdom and His Power. After 
 having endeavoured to show that even the 
 Finite points to the Infinite, I have no inclina- 
 tion to restrict the Infinite, when it reveals 
 itself, within the bounds of the Finite. No; 
 God is infinitely good, as well as infinitely 
 wise, and infinitely powerful. If I declined 
 to admit Eliza's verse from the Psalms as a 
 sufficient basis for an argument, I accept it 
 most thoroughly as the expression of a most 
 true and reasonable feeling. 'The Lord is 
 loving unto every man ; and His Mercy is over 
 all His Works.' Every breath of air that fans 
 our cheek; every sight, and sound, and odour 
 which salutes us ; the thousand physical influ- 
 ences which are at work about us ' from morn to 
 dewy eve,' and in the darkness of the night as 
 well; all that has moulded us, from infancy to 
 mature age, with or without our knowledge, and 
 
148 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 has made us what we are; the sudden thrill of 
 pleasure and shoot of pain, the springs of health 
 and disease, of life and death, all obey the laws 
 which He has made, to which He alone has 
 given power, which have no power irrespective 
 of Him, and which, in all their workings, never 
 frustrate His Will, but run, if I may so speak, in 
 the grooves which His Knowledge has made for 
 His Power. And this Knowledge and Power 
 have a purpose; and that purpose is good. 
 We can but guess and conjecture about His 
 universal purposes, and shall, probably, con- 
 jecture in vain. Most likely, we can no more 
 conceive of the absolute unity of His pur- 
 pose, than we can sum up all His Knowledge in 
 a single proposition, or compress the motive 
 powers of the Universe into an atom. But 
 thus much we know, because He has told us; 
 His purpose toward us is good, and all things 
 contribute and work together to that purpose. 
 It is not more certain that the Thunder and 
 Lightning are His creatures, than that they 
 are His servants, and, though they sometimes 
 seem to play the tyrant, our servants too. 
 Indeed, they serve us even when they seem to 
 tyrannize. We call the Lightning our slave, 
 when we bring it down from the cloud, and 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 149 
 
 pass it along our wires, and bid it rest or move, 
 and speak or be silent, at our pleasure, and 
 make sport for us like some lion of the desert, 
 which Ave catch and imprison in our cages. 
 But it does no more real service to mankind 
 when it waits at the beck of the philosopher, 
 than when it flashes from the sky to arrest the 
 course of wickedness, or the deep voice of the 
 thunder suddenly calls a good man, who was 
 walking in the path of duty, to a higher life 
 than this, and a closer presence of God. But 
 the Lord is not in the thunder only, in the 
 great, the mighty, the magnificent. What- 
 ever He does, we know that He does well. 
 Wherever we can trace His Wisdom or Power 
 (and where can we not trace them?) we are 
 also certain of His Goodness. He has set His 
 own seal on the purpose of His own works. 
 W r hatever agency of His universe affects us at 
 all, affects us for our good. It is not more 
 certain that the cold of this morning chilled us, 
 or the fire of this evening warms us, or that 
 the occurrences of last week gave us pain and 
 anxiety, or that we saw in the garden to-day 
 the first yellow leaves of autumn spinning about 
 upon the grass, and the petals of the lingering 
 jessamine quaintly twisted by the frost, than it 
 
150 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 is that each and all of these impressions on 
 sense and soul, as they tend, physically, to 
 make us what we are, are also God's messen- 
 gers, to make us, morally, what we should be. 
 And, as the touch of nature is finer than we 
 could possibly have conceived ; as the minute- 
 ness of causes exceeds our powers of thought or 
 observation, and evades reason and the micro- 
 scope alike ; as we often fail to detect in air, or 
 food, or water, the conditions of health or the 
 cause of disease; and even when we can trace 
 them, are often at a loss to account for their 
 causes or their presence ; as we know that meat, 
 and drink, and exercise, are necessary for our 
 well-being, and yet should try in vain to dis- 
 cover the exact degree in which our vigour of 
 mind and body were promoted by the dinner of 
 yesterday or the walk of to-day, can we wonder 
 at a similar phenomenon in the world of Grace ? 
 Surely the chords of our inner being vibrate as 
 truly and freely, and to as gentle a touch as the 
 framework in which God has strung them. 
 Surely that blessed Spirit, who is the Giver of 
 all life, can invest even the minutest accident of 
 that life with a purpose. But I am in danger 
 of doing my cause wrong, by speaking of a 
 certainty as if it were only a probability, and 
 
THE PURPOSES OP GOD. 151 
 
 urging my weak reasons where Faith speaks 
 clear and strong. It is no position of my own 
 that all things work together for good to them 
 that love God. There is no reason which I can 
 discover, why we should rob the words of the 
 least portion of their literal breadth and fulness. 
 The more I think of them, the more I rest on 
 them with a deepened conviction that all the 
 thousand influences of which we are conscious 
 day by day, and the tens of thousands of which 
 we are unconscious, are each sent by God, and 
 pause with us for a moment on an errand of 
 goodness as they pass, or do their work of 
 mercy without pausing, as they come we know 
 not whence, and go we know not whither. And 
 I hope my conviction is shared ; is it not ? 
 
 E. By me most certainly. I must not pre- 
 tend to have thought out the subject as you 
 have done. But I can follow you in all you 
 say, and agree with it. And it seems as if a 
 good deal you say should have occurred to me 
 before. 
 
 H. But what says Philip ? He observes, I 
 fear, an ominous silence. 
 
 Ph. Yes, my silence certainly does not 
 altogether give consent. And yet I doubt 
 with reluctance, and should differ with more 
 
152 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 reluctance still. Perhaps you will be able to 
 remove, or if not, to modify my one great 
 difficulty. 
 
 H. And what is that ? 
 
 Ph. It appears to me, that both Reason and 
 Revelation suggest one great exception, which 
 we ought to bear in mind before we assert that 
 literally all things work together for our good. 
 
 H. What, are you going to make exceptions 
 in your turn ? 
 
 Ph. Not exceptions, but an exception, and 
 that no small one ; but one of the most startling 
 and patent facts which the moral aspect of the 
 world presents to us — no less an exception than 
 Sin. 
 
 H. It would be a huge exception, if we 
 admit it to be such at all ; which I am not pre- 
 pared to do. 
 
 Ph. Indeed! 
 
 H. Yes, I am quite serious; and am not 
 without hope that, on reflection, you will agree 
 with me. 
 
 E. But how can Sin, which is thoroughly 
 evil, and opposed to God, promote His Purposes, 
 and do Good? I confess that Philip's excep- 
 tion has quite startled me. 
 
 H. I doubt if we can explain how it can do 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 153 
 
 good, dear Eliza. But let that question stand 
 over. If I show you the fact that Sin can do 
 good, though itself of the very essence of evil, 
 will that suffice ? 
 
 Ph. It will suffice partially; though perhaps 
 not entirely. But let us hear what you have to 
 say. 
 
 H. I ought to say, in the first place, that I 
 had thought over your difficulty before you 
 mentioned it. Had I not, I should have been 
 startled like Eliza, but perhaps not for exactly 
 the same reasons. Have you really considered 
 what it amounts to ? 
 
 Ph. Not very precisely ; for, till it occurred 
 to me as an objection to your universal state- 
 ment, I had not considered it at all. 
 
 H. I should like then to ascertain, as exactly 
 as I well can, what your objection is. I shall 
 then have a fair chance of answering it. Will 
 you help me in the attempt ? 
 
 Ph. Yes, if I can. And perhaps I may make 
 my own meaning more definite at the same 
 time. 
 
 H. Perhaps so. And I should like to know, 
 in the first place, if you are of the same mind 
 with me on one very general question. Do you 
 think that we ought, without the gravest reason, 
 
154 THE PUEPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 to insert a condition or limiting clause in a 
 promise, which is given absolutely in Holy 
 Scripture ? 
 
 Ph. Certainly not. 
 
 H. I am glad to hear you say so, though I 
 quite expected it. The reason why I asked was 
 this. There are people, and very good people 
 too, who feel a conscientious reluctance to 
 accept the Gospel and its promises without 
 so many conditions and provisos annexed, that, 
 to my mind, it ceases altogether to be a Gospel. 
 I will give you a common instance. I dare say 
 it has more than once befallen you, as it has 
 me, to hear a sermon which began by setting 
 forth in the strongest and most unconditional 
 manner the promises of Divine Grace, Forgive- 
 ness of Sin, and Holiness, as the heritage of 
 Christians. But when the first part of the 
 sermon was finished, it appeared in the second 
 part that all these privileges belonged to 
 baptised Christians in the abstract ; but that, 
 practically, almost every member of every 
 Christian congregation had sullied his bap- 
 tismal robe, dimmed the gift of grace, incurred 
 the sentence of sin, and thus, though nominally 
 under the Gospel, had, from this forlorn and 
 penitential condition, to work his way up to the 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 155 
 
 position which he had once enjoyed, but had 
 forfeited. The result was, of course, a prac- 
 tical scheme, which was a kind of inversion of 
 the true order, being Gospel first, and Law 
 afterward. Does this recommend itself to 
 you? 
 
 Ph. I need scarcely say that it does not. 
 My inclination is quite the other way. I know 
 that it is quite possible to teach the broadest 
 Truth in such a manner, that it shall shrink 
 under the teacher's hands to very narrow 
 dimensions indeed. But I see no justification 
 for such a course in Holy Scripture, which is 
 singularly free and unfettered in its statements, 
 and is meant, I doubt not, to be received with 
 a Faith, which shall answer to its freeness and 
 fulness, and shall be, in its measure, as liberal 
 and open as itself. 
 
 H. You will then, no doubt, think with me, 
 that the antecedent probability is against intro- 
 ducing Sin as a limiting condition under the 
 Gospel covenant, unless the nature of the case, 
 or the express words of Holy Scripture require 
 its introduction. The case would be very dif- 
 ferent, of course, if the Gospel scheme, as 
 exhibited in Scripture, were intended to fami- 
 liarise us with a new set of ideas, which should 
 
156 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 have no possible relation to those with which 
 we were already familiar, and should ignore Sin 
 among the number. But it is not so. We 
 cannot understand what the Gospel means, 
 unless we understand what Sin means as well. 
 Jesus, our Saviour, are unintelligible terms, 
 till we know from what we are to be saved. Sin 
 is presupposed as the natural state of man 
 before Grace, and as the evil which cleaves to 
 him in some degree, even after Grace is 
 given. Only apply the Gospel in cases where 
 Sin does not interfere, and you will never apply 
 it at all. 
 
 Ph. Quite true ; but I should like to see how 
 the principle applies in the case before us. I 
 allow that when it is said ' All things work toge- 
 ther for Good to them that love God/ there is 
 no express mention of Sin as an exception. 
 Holy Scripture is silent on the point. But you 
 spoke just now of ' the nature of the case/ 
 Does not that necessarily exclude Sin from co- 
 operating in the work of Good ? 
 
 H. Let us see. We have narrowed the 
 point at issue considerably; and 1 think we 
 shall soon narrow it considerably more. Yet 
 I must own I rather recoil from my own phrase, 
 when you take it and turn it on me. ' The 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 157 
 
 nature of the case' is a very high abstraction. 
 If once we get to considering the relations of 
 Good and Evil in themselves, when shall we get 
 back to common sense and our question 
 again ? 
 
 Ph. I assure you I have no wish to venture 
 into such high metaphysical latitudes, and 
 depart from common sense or our question 
 either. Cannot we keep on safer or easier 
 ground, and yet work towards our point ? 
 
 H. Perhaps we can, if you do not mind a 
 very matter-of-fact treatment of it. And, on 
 reflection, I must own you have not courted 
 such discussions. You have displayed no un- 
 reasonable anxiety to attain the nature of the 
 Absolute Good, or to assail with Quixotic gal- 
 lantry the Origin of Evil. 
 
 Ph. No. So far you only do me justice. I 
 know my own strength too well — or, I should 
 say, my weakness. 
 
 H. And so I hope do I. It is agreed then 
 to leave all high abstractions to float in air as 
 they please ; and we have each permission to be 
 as matter of fact as we like, have we not ? 
 
 Ph. We have. 
 
 H. I resume then my questions as to your 
 meaning. You doubt whether Sin can be said 
 
158 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 to work together with other things for Good. 
 What do you mean by Good — Good absolute, 
 or in reference to the individual ? 
 
 Ph. The text, I think, answers the question 
 for me. It speaks of what is good for indivi- 
 duals, or rather for a class — those that love 
 God. Besides, if we are to talk practically, and 
 not philosophically, we must certainly content 
 ourselves with that which is good for the 
 individual. 
 
 H. We are coming still closer to the point, 
 1 perceive. Let us then suppose an individual 
 belonging to the class of those who love God. 
 You doubt if Sin can work for his Good. 
 Whose sin do you mean ? His own, or that of 
 others ? 
 
 Ph. My principal difficulty would concern 
 his own sins. At the same time, I am not 
 quite clear about the good effect of the sins of 
 others. 
 
 H. Let us take the easier question first. 
 Why do you doubt if a good man can be 
 benefited by another man's sins ? 
 
 Ph. I do not understand how Evil can thus 
 come out of Good. It is almost making the 
 order of nature exclaim, ' Let us do Evil that 
 Good may come/ 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 59 
 
 H. Hold ! I must put in my protest. You 
 are philosophising, even if you do not know it. 
 We cannot discuss your difficulty, without 
 theorising, if not about the origin, at least 
 about the final destinies of evil; which will 
 prove perhaps nearly as difficult a subject. Are 
 you prepared for this ? 
 
 Ph. Certainly not; and I perceive, on re- 
 flection, that I am breaking our contract. But 
 what other course can I pursue? Perhaps 
 it is easier to propose discussing the subject 
 practically and not philosophically, than to do 
 so when it comes to the point. 
 
 H. I can suggest a course, which I think 
 will meet with your approval. Holy Scripture 
 may be considered, from one point of view, 
 mainly as a history of the causes, conse- 
 quences, and remedies of Sin. You will be 
 able to find some examples there, which are 
 quite to your purpose. Some occur to me at 
 once; but if I named them, I might seem to 
 select those which favoured my own view. So I 
 leave the selection to you. 
 
 Ph. Yes, that seems a very fair plan, and 
 quite practicable. And instances, as you ob- 
 serve, are plentiful enough. I should think it 
 would be satisfactory, if we took the first which 
 
l6o THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 is recorded — the sin of Adam. Will you 
 allow that as a sufficient example? 
 
 H. I am quite prepared to do so. Indeed, 
 you could probably not have chosen a better. 
 The sin of Adam is constantly placed by St. 
 Paul in direct contrast with the Salvation of 
 Christ. All die in Adam, as all shall be made 
 alive in Christ. The first man Adam is a type 
 of our Lord, the last Adam, because the conse- 
 quences of his sin are so great and so universal. 
 What use do you intend to make of your 
 example ? 
 
 Ph. Surely much sin and suffering came into 
 the world by his fall. 
 
 H. Quite true ; but this does not decide the 
 point at issue. Suffering, the Christian knows, 
 has its blessing ; and whether Sin can work for 
 good or not is the subject of our enquiry. 
 
 Ph. Yes, I must admit that to be true ; and 
 it appears, after all, that my example has not 
 helped me much. 
 
 H. But I think it may help you. It points, 
 unless I am mistaken, to a very definite answer 
 to the question, whether the sin of one man can 
 be a benefit to another. 
 
 Ph. How so ? 
 
 H. I will reply in the words of St. Paul. 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. l6l 
 
 ' Where Sin abounded, Grace did much more 
 abound ; that as Sin had reigned unto death, 
 even so might Grace reign through righteous- 
 ness unto eternal life by Jesus Christ our 
 Lord/ 
 
 Ph. And how do they decide the question ? 
 
 H. How they decide it is not so clear ; but 
 the fact that they do decide it is certain. There 
 are difficulties in explaining the text, no doubt : 
 but it means this at least ; that the blessings of 
 the Gospel are greater than the penalties of the 
 Fall. Those who love God will derive a positive 
 advantage from the sin of their first parent. 
 His fall opened to them the way to a higher 
 glory ; for the sin of Adam was the occasion of 
 the coming of Christ. 
 
 Ph. So indeed it seems ; and perhaps it is 
 only some disguised philosophical scruple which 
 keeps me from being quite satisfied. What 
 think you, Eliza ? 
 
 E. I think that Henry is right in saying 
 that the sin of one man can be a benefit to 
 another. I met with two texts in the history 
 of Joseph a few days ago, which seem to the 
 point. When he declares himself to his 
 brethren, he says, ' it was not you that sent 
 me hither, but God/ And after his father's 
 
 M 
 
l62 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 death, he expresses the same thought more 
 fully : ' As for you, ye thought evil against me ; 
 but God meant it unto Good/ 
 
 Ph. I surrender then; and allow that the 
 consequences of one man's sin may be beneficial 
 to another. If I do so hesitatingly, it is because 
 I feel that there is a deep mystery about the 
 whole subject, which makes me very reluctant 
 to be positive. 
 
 H. I share your feeling most fully. Sin, 
 though in one sense a most painful reality, 
 belongs in another to the world of shadows. It 
 ought not to be, though it is. While it is 
 recognised in the Divine Scheme, it is with a 
 view to its destruction. We know many truths 
 about it, and yet it is itself an essential false- 
 hood. And so our knowledge catches the 
 indefiniteness of its subject, and is vague, misty, 
 and incoherent. We think of it, and its con- 
 sequences, and its victims, till we find ourselves 
 as it were in a limbo, or in the region of the 
 dead, as old heathen poets depicted it, where 
 all is dark and sad and melancholy ; and 
 shadows are half substances, and substances 
 are shadows ; where the eye betrays the hand, 
 and the hand the eye ; where the voices of 
 others sound shrill, and our own hollow; and 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 163 
 
 we start at the echo of our footsteps, and won- 
 der if it is a groan. 
 
 Ph. A visionary world indeed ! Thank 
 God that we shall one day awake, and find it is 
 a dream. But are we to quit it now, without 
 even the endeavour to see whether there is any 
 reason for my remaining difficulty ? You 
 remember that when we had spoken of the sins 
 of others, we were to consider whether a man's 
 own sin could cooperate to his good. I must 
 own 1 should like to do so. At the same time 
 it is possible that the enquiry may pass the 
 limits which are set to our knowledge. If so, 
 it will be useless, not to say wrong, to pursue 
 it. It will only lead us into darkness, and ter- 
 minate in nothing. 
 
 H. Yet the enquiry may not be forbidden ; 
 and the darkness may not be so complete as to 
 prevent us from seeing a dim outline of truth 
 through it. Shall we venture a few, a very 
 few steps into it ? I am ready to make the 
 attempt, if you will help me. 
 
 Ph. With all my heart ; only you must lead 
 the way. 
 
 H. I will try. There is one preliminary on 
 which we* are agreed, of course. No blessing 
 can rest on unrepented sin. 
 
164 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 Ph. Yes, we are agreed so far. But does 
 not your agreement virtually surrender the 
 position in question ? If unrepented sin can- 
 not receive a blessing, how can it be said that a 
 man's own sins can work for his good ? 
 
 H. You will remember that the text speaks 
 of those who love God. And with such, re- 
 pentance is an habitual frame of mind. Thus 
 their sins do not remain unrepented. Their 
 penitence leads them continually to acknow- 
 ledge and lament their sinfulness. If the special 
 sin, owing to its being unobserved or forgotten, 
 is not specially repented of, yet their general 
 repentance, so to speak, covers it. 
 
 Ph. Yet repentance does not, for the most 
 part, follow immediately on Sin. There is an 
 interval which, if short, is often very noticeable, 
 and which often is not short at all. Thus sins 
 in general have, if you will allow me such a 
 phrase, gone through the unrepented stage. 
 And how can these work for good ? 
 
 H. You press me hard ; but I think I can 
 hold my ground nevertheless. But please to 
 bear this in mind once more, that we decline, 
 by common consent, the metaphysics of the 
 whole question. 
 
 Ph. Yes, we do. 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 65 
 
 H. In that case I do not think that I am 
 called on to show how sins, which were once 
 unrepented, but have been followed by peni- 
 tence, work together for our good, but only to 
 make it probable that they do so. The question 
 is of the fact, not of the reason. 
 
 Ph. True ; I concede so much willingly. 
 
 H. Let us then begin at the beginning. 
 Let us suppose a good man to have fallen, and 
 not as yet to have repented of his sin. In 
 sinning he has, so far as his sin goes, frustrated 
 the purposes of God. But does his whole life 
 and well-being, therefore, become indifferent in 
 the sight of God? 
 
 Ph. I imagine not. God would lead him to 
 repentance. 
 
 H. Yes ; that is, I think, a necessary admis- 
 sion. Just as the r . as a general scheme, 
 recognises Sin that it may remedy it, so in the 
 individual case. Sin does not remove us from 
 the sphere of the Divine Counsels. It brings 
 us under a new and remedial dispensation ; but 
 that dispensation is one of mercy. 
 
 Ph. Yes, I allow that. 
 
 H. Well, if you allow so much of unre- 
 pented sin, what will you say of sin when it is 
 succeeded by penitence ? A Christian's life, 
 
1 66 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 we will suppose, to make the case a strong one, 
 has been marked at one period by a foul and 
 heinous blot of sin. Repentance did not follow 
 at once ; but even in the time of impenitence, 
 God was knocking at the door of his heart, and 
 the healing balm was ready. At length he 
 relents, and bares his gaping wounds to the 
 Great Physician, who closes them with a touch. 
 Look at the history of such a man as a whole. 
 View him as loving God, and on his road to 
 heaven. Put your finger on the scar which his 
 wound, though healed, has left behind it. Do 
 not ascribe to him an ideal life ; but realise, as 
 fully as you can, the great events which have, 
 under God, determined its complexion — his 
 sin and his penitence. Do not endeavour to 
 conceive of him as some quite different being 
 from what he is ; but take him as one whom his 
 own faults greatly injured, and whom God's 
 mercy has wonderfully restored. Can you say 
 of any incident in such a life, can you say even 
 of the sin itself, that it has not, after all, 
 worked for Good? 
 
 Ph. Perhaps not, though it is a difficult 
 question. And he can never, even after a deep 
 repentance, be the man he would have been, 
 had he not sinned. 
 
THE PURPOSES OP GOD. 167 
 
 H. You can never say of any one that he is 
 the same man that he would have been, had he, 
 at any period of his life, acted differently. No 
 doubt the consequents vary with the antece- 
 dents. If Milton had not been blind, we should 
 have lost the pathetic passage in his Apostrophe 
 to Light; he might even have never composed 
 Paradise Lost; but he would probably have 
 given to the world something great and beau- 
 tiful instead. Had Julius Csesar been dropped 
 in Greece, or Alexander in Rome, or either in 
 a country village, the history of mankind might 
 have been considerably altered. 
 
 Ph. Oh, I mean more than that. The man 
 who has once committed a grave transgression is 
 never himself again. He is not only a different 
 man, but not so good a man. 
 
 H. Indeed, who told you that? 
 
 Ph. No one told me : but it is, I believe, the 
 general opinion ; and I expected you to enter- 
 tain it. What have you to say to the contrary ? 
 
 H. I should rather ask, what you have to 
 urge in the affirmative. You have made an 
 assertion : I do not venture to contradict it ; 
 but I am anxious to know your proof. 
 
 Ph. I am in no position to prove it. Does 
 Holy Scripture cast any light upon the point? 
 
1 68 THE PURPOSES OP GOD. 
 
 H. I can think of nothing there which 
 favours your view. Shall we take the case of 
 Adam once more? He was in perfect inno- 
 cence ; yet he fell. Do you think that any of 
 his children would be justified in asserting that 
 it was impossible for Adam to attain in Heaven 
 as high a state as he had lost in Paradise, or 
 even rising to a higher? 
 
 Ph. Of course I think no such thing. But 
 surely your instance is not to the purpose. I 
 was not speaking of Heaven; but of the re- 
 covery of lost grace in this life. 
 
 H. That makes a difference, I allow. And 
 yet, perhaps, the parallel is nearer than you 
 suppose. Paradise was a state of Innocence, as 
 well as Heaven. We agree that Adam's Fall 
 from a state of innocence could not prevent his 
 attaining even a more glorious state of inno- 
 cence than he enjoyed before. Surely this 
 affords a presumption, that his children, in this 
 world of guilt, may sink very low indeed, and 
 yet, though guilty still, rise higher than they 
 were before. It seems much further from 
 Innocence to Guilt than from one degree of 
 Guilt to another. 
 
 Ph. Yes, I admit there is a presumption ; 
 but it does not amount to proof. 
 
THE PURPOSES OP GOD. 1 69 
 
 H. I do not think that it does ; nor do I 
 even wish it to do so. Perhaps we are meant 
 to be ignorant on this and many similar sub- 
 jects. If you allow that your position is un- 
 proved, I am ready to admit as much of the 
 counter position, which is no assertion of mine. 
 At the same time, I ought in candour to say 
 that my own opinion inclines to the contrary 
 side to yours. A great sin is often like a great 
 catastrophe in nature. It implies no new or 
 extraordinary effort, but only some strange and 
 unexpected collision of already existing forces. 
 It is like an earthquake, which overthrows a 
 capital, and strikes the world as most awful in 
 itself as well as in its consequences, but of 
 which all the conditions had been for ages 
 latent in the bowels of the earth, and only 
 restrained from operation by some compa- 
 ratively trivial cause. A man does an act in 
 ignorance; and is stupified when knowledge 
 removes the veil, and shows him the sin in 
 its true character. Some passion, of whose 
 strength he was not at all aware, is roused by a 
 sudden occasion, and sweeps the will almost 
 unresisting before it. In such a case we may 
 apply the proverb, ' forewarned, forearmed/ 
 The fact that it has occurred once, becomes a 
 
170 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 kind of warrant that it will not occur again. 
 But I am in danger of enunciating a theory 
 which, even if it were right, would be out of 
 place now. So I close, my imperfect case with 
 two New Testament instances. I cannot ima- 
 gine, for my own part, that St. Paul's sin in 
 persecuting Christ made him, after his conver- 
 sion, less fit to be the Apostle of the Gentiles ; 
 or that St. Peter's words, ' Lord, thou knowest 
 all things, thou knowest that I love thee,' came 
 from a heart less full of love and faith, than the 
 bolder declaration, ' If I should die with thee I 
 will not deny thee,' which he made when he was 
 about to break it. 
 
 Ph. Well, I am inclined to allow that my 
 statement was too broad, especially as you do 
 not insist in contradicting it. And I quite see 
 that there is a sense in which our own sin, as 
 well as that of others, can cooperate with other 
 influences to our good. Eliza, what say you? 
 
 E. I agree as far as I understand. But, in 
 spite of your disclaimers, you seem to me to 
 have been philosophising a little. 
 
 H. Perhaps we have ; it is sometimes very 
 hard to avoid doing so. But I hope we have 
 exercised all salutary caution ; and our conclu- 
 sion, you will admit, is practical enough. 
 
THE TURPOSES OF GOD. 171 
 
 E. I am glad to hear it. 
 
 H. Such assent as that, Eliza, is only a 
 species of incredulity. How do you justify 
 it? 
 
 E. I did not mean to be incredulous ; and 
 yet it seems to me that you had arrived at your 
 practical conclusion before you began your last 
 discussion. We were all agreed that the text 
 about all things working for good was to be 
 taken as literally as possible. And I should 
 think that a true penitent would accept this in 
 faith, and would pray God to shield him, as far 
 as might be, from the consequences of his sin, 
 and would leave the rest to Him. 
 
 H. And that would be the right course, no 
 doubt. And if it were adopted, our practical 
 conclusion would be superfluous ; just as those 
 customary appendages of Sermons, and even 
 the Sermons themselves, would be unnecessary 
 if men did and felt what was right without 
 them. But people have a strange habit of 
 putting their own sins and those of others 
 between God and His Providence. 
 
 E. What do you mean ? 
 
 H. I spoke of Sermons just now. There is 
 a topic so frequently handled in them, that we 
 must be all familiar with it. We are taught 
 
172 THE PUKPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 continually, and with very good reason, that 
 we must not let our sins stand between us and 
 God, and that it is idle to wait till we have put 
 them away, with the intention of coming to 
 Him afterwards; for in that case we shall 
 never come at all. And we are told that how- 
 ever great our sins may be, if we will only lay 
 them at the foot of the Cross, with the sincere 
 and prayerful purpose of leaving them there, 
 His Grace is sufficient, and more than suffi- 
 cient, for our needs. 
 
 E. True, and what then? 
 
 H. Why, all that I want is, that good and 
 conscientious people should recognise the same 
 truth with regard to this world, which they own 
 and are thankful for with regard to the next. 
 Surely, it is wrong to let opportunities of good 
 pass by unused, and to throw oneself out of 
 gear with the common course of things, and to 
 fail to hear God's voice in the present, and 
 despond or despair for the future, because, at 
 some former time, our own or another's sin 
 came in, and perplexed and entangled every- 
 thing. That matters have been in a bad state 
 is no reason why they should remain so. The 
 disease may justly be an occasion for sorrow or 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 73 
 
 repentance as the case may be 3 but for all that 
 we should try and cure it. 
 
 E. And who does not, under such circum- 
 stances ? 
 
 H. A great many more persons do not than 
 you apparently imagine. I am sure that I 
 have known instances, and those of men whom 
 you would have thought before-hand quite 
 incapable of such an inconsistency, who submit 
 with all appearance of resignation and patience 
 to such evils as ill health or the loss of friends, 
 but if only they suffer from the injustice, or 
 iugratitude, or unloving nature of others, are 
 disquieted and harassed to the last degree. In 
 the one case, they will see the finger of God> 
 and own that He does all for the best ; in the 
 other, they are indignantly sorrowful, and 
 declare that their neighbour has ruined and 
 undone them, and destroyed all their hopes in 
 life. And it is much the same when they suffer 
 from the consequences of their own sins. After 
 the most sincere repentance, they feel it a point 
 of conscience to believe that their powers are 
 enfeebled, their strength paralysed, their force 
 and vigour of action gone. They have once 
 been prisoners, and they are now free; but 
 they decline motion and active exertion, and 
 
174 TH E PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 find a sorrowful pleasure in looking at the 
 marks which their fetters have left, and 
 declaring that they can never be removed. 
 
 E. But surely the consequences of Sin are 
 very serious. 
 
 H. Very serious indeed. We often feel 
 them for the rest of our lives. We may not 
 be conscious of them ; but the wheel has been 
 set rolling and rolls on. They may lie down 
 with us, as the Psalmist says, in the dust. Yet 
 these consequences, be they what they may, are, 
 to those who repent and love God, part of His 
 Divine Scheme of mercy towards them. And 
 we should remember that He knows them, and 
 should bear them not only submissively but 
 manfully. If they oppress us and weigh us 
 down, we should struggle against them, and 
 endeavour to be brave and cheerful, and to go 
 about our work with a good courage in spite of 
 them. If they are not thus sensibly felt as 
 impediments, we should be brave and cheerful 
 still, and labour the more vigorously, because 
 we do not work at a disadvantage. If the 
 memory of our sins haunts us, and we think 
 how different we might have been had our 
 early course been different, let us not dwell on 
 the thought till it becomes morbid. There are 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 75 
 
 many duties on earth, as there are many man- 
 sions in heaven. Whatever opportunities we 
 have thrown away, howewer we have abused 
 our gifts, there is still a sphere open to us, 
 which calls for all our exertions. Let us first 
 look up to God through our tears, and then dry 
 our eyes, and look about for our work, and do 
 it. If we find peace in it, let us receive it 
 thankfully as His gift. There are channels 
 enough through which He can send us sorrow, 
 if He wills it. And if sorrow comes, let us try 
 and rejoice in this also, if we can. It is His 
 gift, too and works us Good. 
 
 E. Yes, the duty of resignation is a very 
 clear one. 
 
 H. Very clear indeed ; but resignation only 
 expresses half the idea which I wish to convey. 
 The other half is something more like activity. 
 There is perhaps a kind of superficial opposition 
 between the two. Resignation is, by common 
 consent, graced with the epithet of passive ; and 
 it would seem natural to most people to speak 
 of impatient, rather than patient, activity. Yet 
 there is no real contradiction between them; 
 and I think that the highest Christian tempe- 
 rament is that in which both are blended. 
 Resignation, however difficult to practise, is in 
 
176 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 theory simple enough. It is a virtue of weak- 
 ness. Reason and common sense tell us, that 
 it is of no use to struggle where we must yield 
 at last. If we are utterly lost and perplexed, 
 and have given up all hope in ourselves, we are 
 ready to follow implicitly any clue or shadow of 
 guidance which is offered us. And thus, when 
 we become sensible of the infinite Power and 
 Wisdom of God, and learn our nothingness 
 before Him, we feel that it is good to be 
 resigned. This is the obvious moral suggested 
 by the contrast of His Strength and our weak- 
 ness, His Knowledge and our ignorance. When 
 our plans are frustrated and our hopes crossed, 
 when our labour has issued in nothing, or dis- 
 appointed us in its results, when calculation is 
 baffled, and probability overturned, if self- 
 reliance has given way, self-will may yet pro- 
 tract the struggle, though all the while the still 
 small voice within is telling us that our efforts 
 are only increasing our perplexities, and bring- 
 ing down the work of our hands in more com- 
 plete ruin about us. But let us suppose that 
 the resistance is overcome, and the stubbornness 
 of the will broken; and the supreme Power 
 and Wisdom of God are both felt and acknow- 
 ledged. The heart forces itself to quietness, 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 77 
 
 and sits amid the wreck of its hopes like a 
 sailor on the sea-shore with the fragments of 
 his ship around him, and conscious, it may be, 
 that its loss is the consequence of his own 
 temerity, or carelessness, or self-will. The 
 moral idea is present, but not developed ; the 
 catastrophe is not attributed to chance, or me- 
 chanical force, or a kind of natural caprice ; 
 but somehow it is felt that Purpose has been 
 brought into conflict with purpose ; that pride, 
 and presumption, and self-confidence, have been 
 quelled, and it is not for nothing that plans 
 have been ruined and energies all but broken. 
 But this amounts only to a negative Purpose ; 
 we see what displeases God, but not what 
 pleases Him; He has broken our idols, and we 
 confess that He has done rightly. We submit, 
 and wait, and are quiet. 
 
 E. And this is right, is it not ? 
 
 H. Hight as far as it goes, no doubt. But 
 it does not go far enough. Such a frame of 
 mind implies a view of the Divine Attributes, 
 which is practically, as well as theoretically, 
 most imperfect. Experience has combined with 
 Reason and Faith in teaching God's Power and 
 Wisdom. But how little is hitherto seen of 
 His Goodness I He has appeared as a Sub- 
 
 N 
 
178 THE PURPOSES OP GOD. 
 
 duer, an Avenger, from whose hand and whose 
 eye none can escape, and who rules His 
 creatures according to His will. How little 
 there is in such a view of God, if it stands alone, 
 to prompt us to action ! We feel as if we could 
 do little good, but much harm ; as if an awful 
 Nemesis were always standing over us, and 
 watching our mistakes, and turning our efforts 
 to our disadvantage, and humbling us before 
 ourselves and others. How far is this from 
 love ! 
 
 E. But, surely, this is a state of mind which 
 many do not go through. 
 
 H. Yes; and I hope that I have said no- 
 thing which implies that God reveals Himself 
 and His perfections in any one unchangeable 
 order. There is no foundation for such an 
 opinion either in Holy Scripture or experience. 
 It is probably held by none, except those who 
 receive a theological scheme at the hands of 
 some human teacher, which they repeat with- 
 out understanding it, and enforce with a rigour 
 which would shock its original author. No 
 doubt, in many of the truest and tenderest 
 natures, the Divine Purposes are first recog- 
 nised in their aspect of Love. Their hearts 
 open to Love, like flowers to the sun. The 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 79 
 
 most precious truth has the deepest hold on 
 their consciousness. Their sense of the loveli- 
 ness of Religion and its Author tempers, from 
 the first, their perception of its awfulness. The 
 shocks and trials of life deepen every feeling of 
 their own nothingness and God's Omnipotence; 
 but they do not stop for a moment the habitual 
 current of their thoughts, in which faith and 
 hope and love run on, gently mingling toge- 
 ther. But others have a very different history 
 from this. There is, perhaps, no small portion 
 of gentleness and love in their nature; but 
 there is much rude power and undirected force 
 as well. Their very energy misleads them. 
 Their strength of will hurries them along a 
 mistaken course ; or their own power of 
 thought plunges them deep in error. The pro- 
 bability is, that their real life begins with a 
 convulsion. To them there is war before 
 peace, sin before holiness, error before truth, 
 confusion before order, darkness before light, 
 Chaos before Creation. And somehow, as we 
 spoke of Sin, and its incapacity to arrest the 
 Divine Purposes, my thoughts wandered to 
 these. 
 
 E. But, as you say, they are not to remain 
 strangers to love ? 
 
l8o THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 H. No ; but, as I said also, they must, for 
 the most part, first learn by experience what is 
 meant by that broken and contrite heart which 
 God does not despise. They must bow to the 
 law of necessary obedience. They must listen 
 to the voice of authority, which calls on them 
 to stop in their self-chosen course, and proves 
 to them the emptiness of their fancied inde- 
 pendence. But their work is not ended here ; 
 it is only just beginning. Their purposes are 
 frustrated; but God has His own. The nega- 
 tive command must become positive. They 
 were forbidden Evil, only that they might do 
 Good. If they will but look around, they will 
 perceive the path of duty opening before them. 
 They will walk as into a new world. They will 
 toil as willing servants of a Master who knows 
 their powers, and will neither overtask nor 
 waste them. And that awful Face, which 
 seemed to regard them from heaven only to 
 vex and terrify them, will bless them with a 
 look of Love. They will work cheerfully, 
 hopefully, and vigorously; and build, it may 
 be, a glorious Future on the ruins of a sad- 
 dened and perhaps disgraceful Past. They will 
 be strong, but in His Strength; Avise, but in 
 His Wisdom ; happy, but in His Love. 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 18 1 
 
 Ph. You have mentioned two types of cha- 
 racter, and each is a remarkable one. But I 
 am afraid that the mass of mankind exhibit 
 neither one nor the other. If we take human 
 life in general as it is in itself, and not in its 
 possible tendencies, it is a sadly mediocre thing 
 after all. f 
 
 H. Not so mediocre as many people think. 
 There is a vast deal of true and deep feeling in 
 the world, even among very ordinary people, 
 if we only knew how to look for it. Those 
 who have the gift of knowing what passes in 
 the hearts of others, are often shocked by 
 much that they see ; but find, nevertheless, 
 abundance of all that constitutes the poetry 
 and beauty and pathos of life. But, apart from 
 this, the characters and inner histories of men 
 vary indefinitely. They cannot be accurately 
 ranged under two types, or a thousand. Yet, 
 however many they be, I hope and believe that 
 one Good Purpose runs through them all. 
 They are meant to lead from different quarters 
 to a single Centre. However unlike each other 
 as men, we should all be one in Christ. I 
 have spoken, of course, according to my own 
 individuality ; and, in thinking of others, have 
 had, from time to time, a particular character 
 
102 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 or class of characters in view. Dealing with 
 men as pure abstractions would be useless, 
 even were it possible. But while we recognise 
 differences, we should seek for points of agree- 
 ment. And I have been trying to find a point 
 from which this great and wonderful idea of 
 Providence should, to very different tempera- 
 ments, seem one and the same. Unity of mere 
 opinion is, in my eyes, a matter of compara- 
 tively little consequence; but unity of feeling 
 and practical tone can scarcely be valued too 
 highly. And it is this which I desire to see 
 prevailing with regard to Providence, as well 
 as to other subjects. If only we believed that 
 this mighty complex of beings and agencies 
 and influences among which we live, from its 
 boldest feature to its least particular, is God's 
 messenger to us for Good ; that His Love is 
 as wide and deep as His Wisdom and Power ; 
 and that every link between every part of His 
 Creation is at last gathered up into His hands, 
 and serves the purpose of His Providence — 
 what a strange and supernatural light should 
 we see investing every detail of our life, and 
 glorifying it without consuming it ! Things 
 would remain in their old proportions ; and yet 
 how changed ! No lawful freedom would be 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 183 
 
 checked, no good or innocent action impeded; 
 yet nothing which was good or lawful or inno- 
 cent would appear mean or base or trivial. 
 Purpose would take the place of Accident, and 
 Will of Chance. Law would be seen working 
 out the ends of Providence, and the eternal 
 Providence ordering all things in Love. The 
 World, however sad in many of its facts, would 
 be Heaven in its tendencies. Everything would 
 have its ideal and noble aspect, which would 
 be not only ideal, but real as well. We should 
 do our willing service in the full feeling of 
 liberty ; and submission would go hand in 
 hand with action. The God of Nature would 
 be felt to be also the God of Grace, and His 
 Majesty not to be greater than His mercy. 
 
 Ph. But some of these results, I hope, 
 Henry, can be attained without adopting your 
 view. Do not suppose I am making any ob- 
 jection to it. On the contrary, I am quite in 
 a different position with regard to it, from 
 that which I held at the time of our first con- 
 versation. You have modified my opinions 
 considerably. I agree with you generally, and, 
 on other points, doubt where I cannot follow. 
 But you seem to me, after all, to think of 
 Providence in a way which is and will be 
 
184 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 strange to most minds. It is consistent, I 
 allow, and wide, and I think it is true ; but it 
 requires some grasp of mind, I will not say to 
 comprehend, but to appreciate it. And many 
 persons, surely, have a real and practical faith 
 in Divine Providence, who are quite strangers 
 to such speculations as yours, and are likely to 
 remain so. 
 
 H. I agree with you most fully. The great 
 majority of pious minds believe that God 
 watches over them, and directs and controls 
 events about them for their good ; and have no 
 doubts and difficulties on the subject whatever. 
 I hope I have said nothing at all to unsettle or 
 disturb them. They have gone the shortest 
 way to a right conclusion. But there are 
 others who know just enough of the subject to 
 see that it is not without its difficulties, and yet 
 are far from disbelief. And they are often 
 afraid to follow out their own thoughts to their 
 consequences, for fear of coming upon some- 
 thing very shocking and dreadful indeed. I 
 hope it has been no presumption on my part, 
 to sit here quietly in your good company, and 
 make myself in imagination, with your assist- 
 ance, their pioneer. If I am right, I think I 
 could help these doubters and waverers now and 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 85 
 
 then. When they stand on the brink of some 
 strong stream of thought, which glides beneath 
 over-hanging rocks, and is soon lost in the dark- 
 ness, I would bid them not be afraid to trust 
 themselves to it, but to strike a few bold strokes 
 like ready and skilful swimmers, and emerge in 
 light on the other side. 
 
 Ph. Well, it is as I hoped. There is no 
 ground of difference here. But there is another 
 point on which I am not quite satisfied. You 
 have spoken of your view as practical, and re- 
 presented it as leading to energetic action. I 
 must own to some doubt on this head. 
 
 H. In a certain sense no doubt you are 
 right. Any view of considerable breadth bears 
 indirectly, rather than directly, on practice. 
 It is, in its way, a principle, not a mere em- 
 pirical formula. You cannot administer it like 
 a quack medicine, but may have to think how 
 it applies, when you are sure that it applies 
 somehow. But this is no real objection to it ; 
 or, if it is an objection, is shared by it in very 
 good company. Faith works more slowly than 
 instinct, and reason than passion. There is 
 almost always an air of calmness, which looks 
 like indecision, about the actions of the man of 
 broad comprehensive views. On the other 
 
1 86 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 hand, no one is so rapid in decision, and in a 
 way energetic, as the man of only one idea, and 
 that a very narrow one. Yet I have no doubt 
 on which basis I would rather build the work of 
 many years, or of a life. 
 
 Ph. Nor have I. But I mean more than this. 
 You seem to me to put the consequences of our 
 actions so entirely out of our own reach, that 
 many persons, if they agreed with you, would 
 doubt if it were worth while acting at all. 
 Enterprise would be paralysed ; and the world 
 in danger of coming to a stand-still. 
 
 H. Do not be afraid of that. There is no 
 fear that all men will think before they act. 
 The generalising philosophising mind is not 
 very common; and a large proportion of the 
 few who possess it are completely two-sided in 
 this respect ; they reflect when in their studies, 
 but shut up their minds, just as they do their 
 books, when they are going out into the world. 
 No j if I had every educated person in England 
 for my audience, instead of two (I should say 
 one, for I perceive Eliza is gone) and convinced 
 the greater part of them, no striking result 
 would follow. You should go out in a year's 
 time into the streets of London, and you would 
 see no perceptible difference in the bustle. 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 1 87 
 
 Not only would carts and cabmen be as plentiful 
 as ever; but I should not be surprised if you 
 found one or two of my principal supporters 
 considerably busy on 'Change. 
 
 Ph. Nay, but that is an evasion. If you 
 wish to see the tendency of a principle, you 
 must not suppose it to fail, but to succeed. 
 My question is, would not your views of Provi- 
 dence, if adopted and carried out, be fatal to 
 much exertion? 
 
 H. Yes, to much exertion of a certain kind. 
 I hope they are not favourable to many of the 
 commonest motives for activity. They would 
 certainly teach those who believed them, that 
 it was scarcely Avorth while to make it the one 
 business of life to amass a fortune ; since, in 
 the first place, it was very doubtful whether 
 the attempt would be allowed to succeed ; and, 
 in the second place, success might prove the 
 reverse of a blessing. They would discourage 
 the strong disposition which many persons feel 
 to accumulate all the influence and power they 
 possibly can, with about as much reasonableness 
 as a rich monomaniac steals everything she can 
 lay hands on, and with not much more definite 
 ideas as to what would be their use when 
 accumulated. But I cannot make myself 
 
1 88 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 look on this as an evil. It is the ordinary 
 lesson of Religion, and, I may add, common 
 sense. 
 
 Ph. But this is a vicious and silly activity. 
 Suppress that by all means if you can. But 
 would not your ideas interfere with a good deal 
 of energy, which deserves some better name 
 than folly and wickedness ? 
 
 H. Folly and wickedness are strong terms, 
 which I am rather chary of using. There is 
 certainly a great deal of exertion going on in 
 the world, which scarcely deserves either name, 
 and yet is either useless or mischievous. It 
 scarcely mends matters if we reflect that much 
 of it is really well intentioned. If I look at a 
 newspaper with this thought in my mind, it 
 makes me quite sad. A mob-orator is flattering 
 himself that he is enlightening his fellow-citi- 
 zens, while he is really inflaming their passions, 
 and stimulating their vanity as well as his own. 
 Or two indiscreet partizans, very enthusiastic 
 and short-sighted, are laying hold of opposite 
 ends of a Truth, and doing their best to tear it 
 to pieces between them. Or a fussy, well- 
 meaning man patronises, as he thinks, a good 
 cause, till he makes it seem as pompous and 
 hollow as himself. Or an aspirant to taste is 
 
THE PURPOSES OP GOD. 1 89 
 
 alternately skinning and varnishing a picture, 
 and thinking that he improves it. Or an inju- 
 dicious advocate is performing the same process 
 on a friend's reputation, and with a like result. 
 I am afraid that it would be very hard to teach 
 these men, and such as these, to be quiet. But 
 if they could learn that the first step toward 
 doing good is not to do harm, they would lose 
 their vocation for a time, without any real loss 
 to the world or to themselves. 
 
 Ph. I will give you all these ; and you may 
 keep them quiet if you can. Only, if you dis- 
 able them from action, please give them, for 
 mercy's sake, an anodyne at the same time. 
 They will else never be able to endure the sharp 
 pangs of repose. But I must press my ques- 
 tion still. What becomes of really good and 
 useful men ? How will they be influenced by 
 a doctrine which tells them, in effect, that they 
 can do nothing? 
 
 H. I must disclaim such an interpretation 
 of my teaching. But let me suggest an addi- 
 tion. Say that they can do nothing of them- 
 selves ; and it is not my teaching, but a better. 
 And I do not think you need fear that any 
 theories about the consequences of actions will 
 have any perceptible effect on the daily work of 
 
I9O THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 good men of the ordinary calibre. They do 
 not for the most part carve out a path for 
 themselves; but duties come to them in the 
 ordinary course of things; and they do them. 
 If they agreed with me, their general mode of 
 life would be in no way disturbed. They might 
 perhaps have the impression a little strength- 
 ened in their minds, that they must do their 
 work, and leave the issue to God. But this, 
 surely, would be no disadvantage. They are 
 not likely to make it an excuse for idleness. 
 If those precepts are most enforced in the New 
 Testament which Christians are most liable to 
 overlook, there is not so much danger of their 
 neglecting the work of to-day as of their being 
 over-anxious about to-morrow. 
 
 Ph. You are right, no doubt, about good 
 men in general. They are, as you say, of only 
 ordinary calibre. But what of the few to whom 
 this description does not apply, who conceive 
 great ideas, and endeavour to execute them ? 
 They lay their plans for years, and spend the 
 labour of a life upon them. Would it not be 
 fatal to their aspirations if they thought as you 
 do, and felt themselves rather instruments than 
 independent agents, doing the will of another, 
 and not working out their own ? 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 191 
 
 H. I know of no principle on which we can 
 exempt men of great ideas from the observance 
 of the Gospel Morality. They should both 
 adopt and pursue their ends in a sense of 
 dependence on God. If they natter themselves 
 that they are independent agents, they are of 
 course greatly mistaken ; and that is at best a 
 spurious greatness, which is founded on a mis- 
 take. It is quite true, that it is a spirit of self- 
 reliance which generally animates the great 
 disturbers of the world, who make their own 
 way to their own object in spite of every impe- 
 diment, and build themselves a monument on 
 the wreck of old opinions, or constitutions, or 
 empires. But even these do the will of God 
 without knowing it. He can raise them up to 
 perform their work, and humble them again 
 when they have done it. No arguments of 
 mine will interfere either with their attempts or 
 their success. I have no personal sympathy 
 with them ; and I am not disposed to relinquish: 
 my opinion, because it appears that if they had 
 held it, they would have been much more quiet 
 than they were. 
 
 Ph. You do not suppose then, that specula- 
 tions like yours would deter a really great and 
 
192 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 good man from acting constantly and firmly on 
 the sense of a high vocation? 
 
 H. Not in the least. Such a person would 
 wish, in the first place, to be sure that his 
 Vocation was from God. He would take care 
 that the work to which he applied himself was 
 good in itself, and suited to his powers. He 
 would be unwilling to trust simply to a strong 
 internal impulse ; but would look for the indi- 
 cations of an external call as well. If these 
 conditions are observed, there is no degree of 
 tenacity of purpose which I cannot conceive of 
 him as exhibiting. The work is not his own, 
 but God's. There is no hindrance which, with 
 God's assistance, he has not power to over- 
 come. Perseverance has become a duty. There 
 is a woe behind him if he desists or hesitates, 
 while there is a glorious hope before. Should 
 all his Powers fail, after all, to accomplish his 
 purpose, God has other instruments to effect it ; 
 and his labour is not unblest, though, in a cer- 
 tain sense, ineffectual. If ever it occur to him 
 that he has laboured in vain, and spent his 
 strength for nought, the answer is ready. His 
 judgment is with the Lord, and his work with 
 his God. 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 193 
 
 Ph. Thank you; I have had my say, and 
 have no more questions to ask. 
 
 H. But you will let me, I have no doubt, 
 Philip, say a few words on my own account. 
 You have been thinking how certain opinions 
 about Providence might affect those who 
 work. My thoughts, I must own, have turned 
 rather to those who suffer. Action absorbs 
 thought, and is the best remedy when thought 
 becomes painful. We speculate very little 
 on the reasons of things, when we are up 
 and doing. But there are times when action 
 becomes impossible, and distress or weak- 
 ness wears us out. The mind cannot divert 
 itself from its own reflections ; but the ideas 
 recur which we strive to banish, till the heart 
 sickens with the vain endeavour, and the 
 weary brain turns round. I should like very 
 much, if I could, to do some good at times 
 like these. I should like to have an oppor- 
 tunity of saying that there is no disorder 
 which has not within it a principle of Order, 
 and that the most painful monotony is a 
 work of loving Design. It might be a com- 
 fort to those who suffer, and love God in 
 their sufferings, to be reminded that the 
 least detail of their life is determined by 
 o 
 
194 THE PURPOSES OF GOD. 
 
 His Love, and Wisdom, and Power ; and that, 
 id the hour of distress and pain, however 
 Sin stain the past, and anxiety cloud the 
 future, all our present needs are present 
 to His Almighty Consciousness, and the 
 Eternal God is our refuge, and underneath are 
 the Everlasting Arms. 
 
 Our conversation had drawn to a close. We 
 looked at the clock, and wondered that it was 
 so late. Eliza had gone some little time be- 
 fore. She had heard, I imagine, a sound which 
 came home closer to her heart than any argu- 
 ment, and had quietly left the room. The fire 
 was nearly out, and the candles were burning 
 bright, and "sending their flames straight up- 
 ward, as if the night were frosty ; but still we 
 were unpleasantly warm. We opened the win- 
 dow, and went out into the garden. It was a 
 still, cold night, and not quite clear. There was 
 no moon, but some of the brighter stars were 
 visible. A.few dry leaves, which we could not 
 see, were blown along the gravel-walk, and 
 made a low, rustling sound. There was a 
 light at a window above, and wc could just 
 
THE PURPOSES OF GOD. I95 
 
 hear the voice of Eliza, singing a restless 
 babe to sleep. 
 
 We went in again, and spoke a few words to 
 each other on indifferent subjects, yet as men 
 who were thinking gravely. 
 
 And so good night to each other, and, gentle 
 reader, to thee. 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE TANGLED SKEIN. 
 
 To which of the weaker sex has not the remark been 
 addressed, " What a mess you have made of that wool " ? 
 Only one reply which is strictly honest can be given — 
 " Yes, I have opened my skein badly." What follows this 
 bad beginning depends on the character of the individual. 
 We will notice three workers. 
 
 The first is the well-trained hand, who has learnt the 
 opening of her skein properly, and, consequently, has not 
 to deal with a tangled skein. The second gets impatient 
 or loses heart ; if you unrolled her ball you would find it 
 a series of joins. These will entirely spoil the appearance 
 of any work for which she purposes using her woo). The 
 third unravels her skein with a patience you cannot but 
 admire, even if you view it as a waste of time ; but I want 
 you to note one point. As each strand is disentangled 
 she winds it up, otherwise her task would be aa endless 
 one. 
 
 If you have ever watched such a process as I have just 
 described, has it ever occurred to you how much life, in 
 many cases, resembles a tangled skein ? I do not address 
 myself to my sisters only, for most of us have either given 
 a helping hand in the winding of a skein, looked idly on, or 
 possibly opened and wound up a hank of twine for our own 
 use. Let us think then of, say, a pound of wool as it comes 
 fiom the manufacturer. To divide the skeins is not diffi- 
 cult. Each one looks beautifully even and as if the task 
 of opening and winding it up into a ball would be an easy 
 one. 
 
 But look at the third worker. She has opened her 
 skein badly, sees it is all in a tangle, and knows she has 
 no one to blame but herself for it. What can she do ? 
 Each strand of the wool must be separated and looked 
 closely into. After a long series of efforts all goes on 
 more smoothly for awhile ; again she finds another tangle 
 and again searches into the cause, until she discovers 
 where the mistake arose. As she extricates each piece 
 she winds it on to the ball. In time the skein is all 
 unwound and the ball is ready for use. 
 
THE FLOWING WATERS. 
 
 " He bloweth with His wind and the waters flow." 
 
 Wind of God, upon ua blow, 
 And make Thy living waters flow, 
 That we the tears of penitence 
 May give to Hira Who our offence 
 Bore on the '^ >_ Who thirsted sore 
 To satisfy us e> Rrmore. 
 
 The Waters of •> . smal grace 
 Have flowed upon our infai-t face, 
 And deepened into sevenfold power 
 They came in Confirmation hour ; 
 And Thou, O Wind of God, dost dwell 
 In us with might unt-peakable. 
 
 Come to us Thou as South Wind sweet 
 
 When fainting in earth's weary heat, 
 
 And softly blow, that we again 
 
 May follow in the path of pain, 
 
 Such strength Thy soothing Breath can give, 
 
 And wanting It wo cannot live. 
 
 And come as North Wind when we need 
 
 More roughly shaking, for indeed 
 
 Thy blasts that come with rushing great 
 
 But strengthen and invigorate, 
 
 And waters 'gainst Thy South Wind sealed 
 
 Responding to Try Nuitu Wind yield. 
 
 And when those other waters re 11 
 
 In mighty waves about our s«.ul, 
 
 O Wind of God, upon them blow, 
 
 That they may not quite overflow, 
 
 That be rue upon Thy power we may 
 
 By fourfold stream rejoice alway. K. E. V 
 
PRINCIPLES OP INTERPRETATION. , 
 
 Before entering upon the subject I think it will be well to 
 lay down one or two principles to which we ought to adhere 
 in interpreting the Bible. 
 
 1. First, let us keep as nearly as we can to the plain and 
 literal meaning of the words. This is the rule which we 
 should apply to any other book. We should assume the 
 writer to mean simply what he said, not try to diminish or 
 explain away the meaning. In the case of the Bible some 
 allowance is to be made in parts for the poetical element in it, 
 and some allowance all through for the difficulty, which we 
 shall presently touch upon, of bringing spiritual truths down 
 to the level of man's understanding. But this allowance being 
 made, we shall surely be right in keeping as nearly as possible 
 to the literal sense. If, for instance, the Bible speaks of angels 
 or messengers from God to man, of good and evil spirits, we 
 shall conclude that there are such beings, rather than say- 
 all this language about angels is merely a way of telling us 
 that certain thoughts arise in the heart. 
 
 2. Secondly, let us beware of forcing the meaning of the 
 Bible to suit our inclinations and wishes, or any preconceived 
 notions that we may have, about, for instance, the character of 
 God. We must remember that it is the very office of the 
 Bible to tell us what we cannot learn from any other source, 
 and that its statements are constantly, by its own showing, 
 unpalatable, most unwelcome to the natural man. If we 
 believe the Bible — and; I am speaking to those who do believe 
 it, or profess to believe it — our hearts are deceitful and mis- 
 leading, and therefore it is not surprising that God's truth is 
 
 very often by no means what we wish or what we expect.) 
 
 I 
 
SERMON. I. 
 
 IS THERE AN ETERNAL EXISTENCE 
 FOR ALL MEN? 
 
 The Bible — which we call the Bible, because it is the book 
 of books, the one book, which stands alone in its value and 
 its authorship — is the one source of our knowledge of any 
 state of existence that may be in store for man beyond the 
 present. We may have, independently of the Bible, con- 
 jectures about another life; we may have, as the heathen 
 have, an instinctive expectation of a future for man beyond 
 the grave, of a great spirit world, invisible to the bodily eye, 
 in which the soul, the thinking, conscious part of man, is to 
 have a place. We may reason with much probability, from 
 the intimations of nature in her changes, that it will be so. 
 But the Bible alone gives us knowledge upon this point. For 
 the Bible alone speaks with authority upon it — speaks so, 
 that is, to all who accept it as the Word of God, as the 
 message of the God who made the world and all things 
 therein to the one rational creature, for whom He made it, 
 and whom He made in His own image«after His own likeness. 
 
THE MEANING OF THE TEEMS LIFE AND DEATH 
 IN THE BIBLE. 
 
 Genesis ii., part of verse 17—" In the day that thou eatest thereof 
 thou shalt surely die." 
 
 If we were to ask a man who had never heard of God and of 
 the Bible— a savage, suppose, or a civilised heathen— what he 
 understood by the terms life and death, there is no doubt that 
 he would tell us that life meant breathing, and eating and 
 moving about on the earth ; and death, he would say, is the 
 end of that life ; and if you want to know what death is, look 
 at the corpse of a man or any other animal— it matters not 
 which— that will tell you better than I can what death is. 
 The savage, indeed, or the heathen might have, most probably 
 would have, some shadowy notions of a state beyond the 
 grave, some repetition under altered circumstances of the 
 present state; for the instinct of immortality exerts its in- 
 fluence on the human mind even where there is no knowledge 
 to justify it. But if it were so, still we may be sure that the 
 present state would be so much more real to him than any 
 
 of God's Word, and but one soul of those whom we were bound 
 to lead to the truth should have been tempted by our teaching 
 to continue in the way that leads to everlasting destruction ? 
 God forbid that this should be the experience of you or me. 
 Let me rather try, while delivering to you as faithfully as I 
 can what God has been pleased to make known to us of the 
 future state, to accompany that statement with such reasons 
 drawn from the general teaching of the Bible upon sin and its 
 ^nsp.miences as mav help us to bow in submission to God] 
 
Of the use and value of a traditional religion, and of the con- 
 currence of revelation in the doctrines of natural religion 
 already laid down. 
 
 On the evidences which have been thus brought for- 
 ward of the design of creation, rests firmly and indu- 
 bitably the argument for the power, and wisdom, and 
 goodness of the Creator, and for a future state, which 
 we derive from natural religion. In almost all ages, 
 also, this argument has had its weight. There has 
 not, I imagine, been any age in which it has not been 
 or would not have been, accepted by the immense 
 majority of mankind, as among the first and weightiest, 
 and simplest, elements of religious belief. If men 
 have ever been blind to it, they have been blinded by 
 brutish ignorance : if they have ever distrusted it, this 
 has only been, I believe, through the wilfulness or over- 
 refinements of a false philosophy. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is to be remarked, and the remark is 
 of importance, that though thus the argument for all 
 
 
PAITH AND PRACTICE. 
 
 these great doctrines of religion rests on evidence 
 wholly incontrovertible, and which, either directly or 
 indirectly, has always had great influence, it has not 
 ever, I suppose, owed directly to the operation of this 
 evidence its greatest effect, or most extensive recep- 
 tion. Eeligion is reason. There may he, and, doubt- 
 less, have been, sincere inquirers into truth, who have 
 found religion the result of their reasonings; and that 
 result it always will be to all who institute their in- 
 quiry on just principles, and conduct it dispassionately. 
 But in point of fact, God has dealt more graciously 
 with us than to leave our knowledge either of his ex- 
 istence, or of the law under which we were born, to 
 the use which we may make of a faculty, which, 
 though next to our moral qualities themselves, our 
 highest and noblest, and, with the exception of his 
 overruling goodness, our only safeguard from error, we 
 yet seldom allow to speak, except in a faint voice, and 
 which is often perverted. 
 
 In God's great wisdom and- goodness, therefore, 
 even our religion is not often the actual work of even- 
 that reason which justifies it, and which is also neces-- 
 sary to keep it from perversion. In the vast majority 
 of instances, our religion, and this, I apprehend, in 
 common with all our other moral susceptibilities, is a 
 traditional religion. Like the sense of obligation, 
 which is impressed on the child by frown, r ffl 
 
WHAT IS HEAVEN? 
 
 By Pastor F. E. Marsh {Sunderland). 
 A great deal of sentimental nonsense has 
 been written on the subject of heaven. 
 Visions of golden streets, pearly gates, and 
 jasper walls, have blinded many to the more 
 important matter — namely, fitness for the 
 place. Heaven is known as an experience, 
 before it is enjoyed as a place. Eliza 
 Scudden has well voiced the fact that 
 heaven is something more than the delights 
 of a paradise of external enjoyment — 
 " In Thee my powers, my treasures live, 
 In Thee my life must tend ; 
 Giving Thyself, Thou all dost give, 
 O soul- sufficing Friend ! 
 " And wherefore should I seek above 
 The city in the sky, 
 Since firm in faith, and deep in love, 
 Its broad foundations lie ? 
 " Since in a life of peace and prayer, 
 Nor known on earth, nor praised, 
 By humble toil, by ceaseless care, 
 Its holy towers are raised. 
 " Where pain the soul hath purified, 
 And penitence hath shriven, 
 And truth is crowned and glorified, 
 There— only there — is heaven." 
 
 Falsehood and impurity would turn a heaven 
 into hell, a paradise into a pandemonium. 
 
 i ' "" ■ i.. i n ' » ii ' " 1 " " ' in p— awwfr 
 
 In speaking of heaven, Vaugnan says : 
 ' Where God is, all agree." Yes, and may ; 
 are not say, since hsaven is where God is, 
 
 3d is what heaven is ; therefore, conformity 
 o Him makes our heaven. 
 
 All our difficulties and dangers arise from 
 ot lying back in the will of God. One of 
 le most touching scenes in modern fiction 
 , where two believers are talking about the 
 ill of God. One of them had met with an 
 xident and been lamed. She is now dying 
 id is talking about her lameness — 
 
 I shall get rid of my lameness there, 
 [argaret, shall I not ? " said Euphra one 
 ay, half-playfully. 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
 " It will be delightful to walk again with- 
 ut pain." 
 
 " Perhaps you will not get rid of it all at 
 free." 
 " Why do you think so ? " asked Euphra, 
 ith some appearance of uneasiness. 
 " Because if it is taken from you before 
 ou are quite willing to have it as long as 
 rod pleases, by-and-by you will not be able 
 ) rest till you have asked for it back again, 
 lat you may bear it for His sake." 
 
 " I . am willing, Margaret — I am willing; 
 nly one can't like it, you know." 
 " I know that," answered Margaret. 
 She spoke no more, and Margaret heard 
 ter weeping gently. 
 
 Half an hour had passed away, when she 
 ooked up and said : 
 " Margaret, I begin to like my lameness, 
 think." 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Why, just because God made it, and 
 aade me bear it. May I not think it is a 
 mark on me from His hand ? " 
 " Yes, I think so." 
 
 " Why do you think it came on me ? " 
 "To walk back to Him with it." 
 " Yes, yes, I see it all." 
 
 
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