The precise manner in which the diastase operates in these cases we may not be able to explain. The particles of the diastase, being themselves in motion, possess the power of putting in motion the particles of other bodies; and these, again, operate upon others, and so on, often to an astonishing extent. In the case of the platinum and the acid, however, no change takes place in their molecules, and we can only state it, as an unexplained fact, that they do produce changes in other bodies.
We have other examples of catalytic influences in nature,exhibiting an agency still more subtile and energetic. I refer to contagious and epidemic diseases in animals and plants. An influence goes abroad, and seems to be propagated through the atmosphere, traversing whole continents, and crossing wide oceans, powerful and deadly in its effects, yet inappreciable by the most delicate mechanical or chemical tests. But the phenomena admit of explanation by supposing a movement, either in the particles of the atmosphere, or of the still more subtile and elastic medium that pervades all space; a movement started at a particular spot, as the cholera in India, and the small-pox or some epidemic from some focus, and communicating an unhealthy movement from atom to atom, till it has encircled the earth and mowed down its hecatombs.
Now, when we look at such facts, who can suppose it improbable that man, who can hardly lift a finger without producing some chemical change, should start some of these movements, that may reach far beyond his imagination? And here, as in the cases that have preceded, we must not estimate the actual change in the constitution of bodies by the apparent; for we know that multitudes of such changes are passing within us and around us, without our cognizance; and yet there may be chemical eyes in the universe quick enough to see them all, and to follow them onward to the final result; for there must be a final resultant of all such forces; nor can we doubt that, some time or other, and to some beings, if not to ourselves, it will be manifest. Here, then, is another mode in which a chemical influence may go forth from us, reaching the utmost limits of matter and of time; nay, perhaps extending into eternity, and revealing our actions to the finer sensibilities of exalted beings.
I derive my sixth argument in support of the general principle from organic reaction.
Few persons, save the zoölogist and comparative anatomist, have any idea of the great nicety and delicacy of the relations that exist between all the species of animals and plants, so that what affects one affects all the rest. Perhaps the subject may be illustrated by supposing all the species of organic beings to be distributed at different distances through a hollow sphere, while between them all there is a mutual repulsion, and the whole are retained in the form of a sphere by an attracting force directed to the centre. By such an arrangement, if one species be taken out of the sphere, or its repellency become stronger or weaker, the relative position of all the rest would be altered. No matter how many millions of species there are, the movements of one will cause a reaction among all the rest.
Now, this illustration, although an approximation, falls short of representing the actual state of things in nature. It is no exaggeration to say that a relation similar to the supposed one exists throughout the vast dominions of animate beings; so that you cannot obliterate or change one species without affecting all the rest. Often the change is effected so slowly and indirectly that the beings experiencing it are unconscious of it; or they may realize some slight disturbance of the balance in organic nature, and yet be unconscious of the cause. By the illustration above given, when one or more species is removed from the supposed sphere, or its repellent force weakened or strengthened, although an influence will reach all the other species, yet a new equilibrium will soon be established, and no permanently bad effects seem to follow. But not so in nature. There the balance originally fixed between different beings by infinite wisdom is the best possible; and every change, not intended by Providence, must be for the worse. It was intended, for instance, that man shouldsubdue forests and extirpate noxious plants, as well as ferocious and noxious animals; and, therefore, such a change operates to his advantage, but to the injury of the inferior animals. Yet often he pushes this exterminating process so far as to injure himself also. Thus the farmer wages a relentless war against certain birds, because of some slight evils which they occasion. But when they are extirpated, opportunity is given for noxious insects to multiply, and to bring upon the farmer evils much greater than those he thus escapes.
To prevent an excessive multiplication of some species is one of the grand objects of the present balance established among the whole. Such an increase is an inevitable effect of the extinction of a species, and it often occasions great mischief. The carnivorous species, especially, were intended to act as nature’s police, to prevent a too great increase of the herbivorous races, which are rendered excessively fruitful to keep the world full. If, then, a carnivorous species become extinct, the species on which it has fed will so multiply as to prove great nuisances, and to produce wide disorder among many species, not only of animals, but of plants. And often has man, in this way, by the extermination of species, in particular districts, unwittingly brought a powerful reaction on himself.
On the Island of New Zealand, within one or two hundred years past, eight or ten species of gigantic birds—the dinornis and palapteryx—have become extinct, probably through the persecution of man. The natives, without doubt, hunted them down for food, until all disappeared: and as no quadruped of much size inhabits the island, we think there is no little plausibility in the suggestion of Professor Owen, that when the birds were all gone, or nearly gone, the natives were tempted to the practice of cannibalism, as the only means ofgratifying their passion for meat. What a terrible retribution for disturbing the equilibrium of organic nature!
The records of zoölogy and botany afford endless illustration of this subject. But the great truth which they all teach is, that so intimately are we related to other beings, that almost every action of ours reacts upon them for good or evil; for good, upon the whole, when we conform to the laws which God has established; and for evil, when by their violation we disturb the equilibrium of organized nature, and produce irregular action. In this latter case, we cannot tell where the disturbance, thus introduced, will end; for it is not a periodical oscillation, like the perturbations of the heavenly bodies, nor a mere change of position and intensity by mechanical forces.
But does not this law of mutual influence between organic beings extend to other worlds? Why should it not be transmitted by means of the luminiferous ether to the limits of the universe? Who knows but a blow struck upon a single link of organic beings here may be felt through the whole circle of animate existence in all worlds? That is a narrow view of God’s work, which isolates the organic races on this globe from the rest of the universe. The more philosophical view throws the golden chain of influence around the whole animal creation, whether small or great, near or remote.
Reverting to the reasoning which we employed in tracing out the extent of mechanical reaction, we shall see that organic reaction may extend not only to other worlds, but also into eternity. For if the matter of the universe is to survive the conflagration of the last day, the future economy of life must have some connection with the present, whether this earth or some other part of the universe be the theatre of its development.
I speak here not of moral influences, which we know willpass over from time into eternity, but of a physical reaction, which may also reach beyond the same gulf. For at least a part of those creatures, who in this world have felt the modifying power of other beings, will survive the world’s final catastrophe, and occupy material, though spiritual bodies, whose germ is represented as derived from their bodies on earth. We have reason, then, to suppose some connection and modifying influence between them. And we might show, also, that moral causes, which so affect the physical character here, may exert a like power in eternity. But time will not permit the argument to be followed out.
The conclusion, then, from this argument also, is, that probably every action of ours on earth modifies the condition and destiny of every other created being in this and other worlds through time and eternity. What though human experience, dependent on the bluntness of mortal sensibilities, cannot demonstrate such an influence? Shall the gross perceptions of this disordered world be made the standard of all that exists? Rather let us listen to the suggestions of science, which tell us of the possibility of senses far more acute in other worlds, and in a future state of being—senses that can trace out and feel the vibrations of the delicate web of organic influence that binds together the great and the small, the past, the present, and the future, throughout the universe.
My seventh argument in support of the general principle depends upon mental reaction.
Mental reaction operates in two ways—indirectly and directly; indirectly through matter, directly by the influence of mind upon mind, without an intervening medium. When describing electric reactions, I have shown how our thoughts and volitions change the electric, chemical, and even mechanical condition of the body, and, through these media,that of all the material universe; and I need not repeat that argument. But to modify the inanimate world through these agencies necessarily affects all other intellects, which are connected with matter; and since man in a future world is to assume a spiritual body, we may reasonably suppose that all created beings are in some way connected with matter; and, therefore, by means of materialism, through the subtile agencies that have been named, we may be sure that an influence goes out from every thought and volition of ours, and reaches every other intellect in the wide creation. I know not whether, in other worlds, their inhabitants possess sensibilities acute enough to be conscious of this influence; certainly, in this world, it is only to a limited extent that men are conscious of it. Yet we must admit that it exists and acts, or deny the demonstrated verities of science.
But is there not evidence that mind sometimes acts directly upon other minds, without any gross, intervening media? It may, indeed, be doubted whether any created intellect operates, except in connection with some form of matter. Yet there are certain facts in the history of individuals in an abnormal state, which show that one mind acts upon another, independent of the senses, or any other material means or intercommunication discoverable by the senses. Take the details of sleep-waking, or somnambulism; and do not they present us with numerous cases in which impressions are made by one mind upon another, even when separated beyond the sphere of the senses? Take the facts respecting double consciousness, and those where the power was possessed of reading the thoughts, of others, or the facts relating to prevision; and surely they cannot be explained but by the supposition of a direct influence of one mind upon another.
Still more decided in this respect are the most familiar factsof artificial somnambulism, called mesmerism. Whatever may be our views of this unsettled branch of knowledge as a whole, it would seem as if we could not doubt that its facts prove the action of mind upon mind, independently of bodily organization, without rejecting evidence which would prove any thing else.
Now, if we admit that mind does operate upon other minds while we are in the body, independent of the body, can we tell how far the influence extends? If electricity, or some other subtile agent, be essential to this action, it would indeed transfer this example to electric reaction, but it would still be real. Yet, in the absence of all certain proof of the electric power in this case, and with certain proof of the existence of such an influence, we may place it among those marvellous means by which man makes an impression, wide beyond our present knowledge, upon the universe, material and mental; and it ought to make us feel that our lightest thoughts and feeblest volitions may reach the outer limit of intellectual life, and its consequences meet us in distant worlds, and far down the track of eternity.
Finally. I derive an argument in support of the general principle from geological reaction.
By this expression, I mean those reactions of whose existence geology furnishes the proof. They are, in fact, the reactions already considered; but geology proves that they have actually operated in past time in many instances, by evidence registered on the rocks, and thus tends to confirm our reasoning derived from other sources. I do not mean that the proof is before us of precisely such an action as our reasoning has supposed, but so analogous to that supposed as to lend it confirmation. A few examples will illustrate the argument.
The effects of mechanical reaction are, perhaps, most frequent and striking in the rocks, especially those deposited from water. Here we have, for instance, theripple marks, which present us with a faithful register of the slightest movement of the waters, and also of the motions of the atmosphere, or of the currents in it, that agitated the waters. In the almost impalpable powder that sometimes constitutes the rocks, we can trace the slightest erosion and comminution of the strata from which the deposit was worn. In the petrified rain drops we find an indelible trace of the most gentle shower. And here, too, we can see the direction of the wind. Such facts, also, imply the operation of electricity and gravity, of heat and cold, collecting and condensing the rain, and bringing it down; and so similar to present meteorological phenomena do these ancient showers appear to have been, that we may conclude that electrical reactions, in all respects, were the same as at present.
The preservation of the tracks of numerous animals in some of the sandstones shows us how deep and permanent an impression the most trivial action of a living being may make. In these footmarks we sometimes notice a change in the direction of the animal along the surface; and, of course, an impression deeper or more shallow than usual, of parts of the foot, by the action of the muscles employed in changing the animal’s course. Here, then, we have the register of so slight an action as an increased or diminished action of a particular muscle of the leg. Nay, further, such a movement affords us an infallible register of an act of the animal’s will, since that must have preceded the change; and that implies an electric current, first inward along the sensor nerves, and then outward along the motor nerves.
Geology lays open before us a map of the changes in organicnature from the apparent commencement of life on the globe, and thus enables us to see examples of this kind of reaction. We find different economies of life to have appeared, but all of them most wisely adapted to existing circumstances. In each economy we perceive the balance between the different tribes provided for. If, for instance, one race of carnivorous species died out, new races were created to occupy their place, so that the herbivorous species should not overrun the globe. Thus, when the early sauroid fishes diminished, the gigantic and carnivorous marine saurian reptiles were introduced. And when the chambered shells, whose occupants were carnivorous, disappeared with the secondary period, numerous univalve mollusks were created to feed on other animals; although previously that family were herbivorous. It would seem, however, as if each successive economy of organic life had contained within itself the seeds of extinction. It was, indeed, mainly a change of climate which first caused some species to disappear. But their destruction so disturbed the balance of creation that others followed, until total extinction was the result, which, however, was often hastened by catastrophes.
Thus we have in the stony volume of the earth’s history actual examples of effects resulting from the acts, and even volitions, of the inferior animals, which can never be erased while the rocks endure.
If, therefore, with our imperfect senses, we can see these results so distinctly, we may safely infer that human conduct, and thought, and volition impress upon the globe, nay, upon the universe, marks which nothing can obliterate.
The thoughts which press upon the mind, in view of such a conclusion, are numerous and interesting. A few we can hardly help noticing.
In the first place, what a centre of influence does man occupy!
It is just as if the universe were a tremulous mass of jelly which every movement of his made to vibrate from the centre to the circumference. It is as if the universe were one vast picture gallery, in some part of which the entire history of this world, and of each individual, is shown on canvas, sketched by countless artists, with unerring skill. It is as if each man had his foot upon the point where ten thousand telegraphic wires meet from every part of the universe, and he were able, with each volition, to send abroad an influence along these wires, so as to reach every created being in heaven and in earth. It is as if we had the more than Gorgon power of transmuting every object around us into forms beautiful or hideous, and of sending that transmuting process forward through time and through eternity. It is as if we were linked to every created being by a golden chain, and every pulsation of our heart or movement of our mind modified the pulsation of every other heart and the movements of every other intellect. Wonderful, wonderful is the position man occupies, and the part he acts! And yet it is not a dream, but the deliberate conclusion of true science.
Secondly. We see in this subject the probability that our minutest actions, and perhaps our thoughts, from day to day, are known throughout the universe.
I speak not here of the divine omniscience, which we know reaches every thought and action; but I refer to created beings. Science shows us how, in a variety of modes, such knowledge may be conveyed to them by natural agencies; and we have only to suppose them to be possessed of far more acute sensibilities than man’s, in order to be affected by these agencies as we are by more powerful impressions.And when we consider how fettered and depressed a condition this world obviously is in, because of its sinfulness, who will doubt but the unfallen beings of other spheres may enjoy those keener perceptions that will bring our whole history distinctly before them, day by day? The thought is, indeed, startling, but not unphilosophical.
If this suggestion be true, then may we indulge the thought as highly probable that our friends, who have gone before us into the eternal world, may be as familiar with our conduct, our words, and even our thoughts, as we are ourselves. If we are acting as we ought, and so as will please them, this must be an animating idea; but if we are not, let it serve to stimulate us to our duty, if a sense of the divine omniscience is not sufficient.
We infer from this subject, thirdly, the probability that, in a future state, the power of reading the past history of the world, and of individuals, may be possessed by man.
The nature of the future spiritual body, and of the heavenly state and employments, impresses the mind with the belief that it will be a condition far more exalted than the present, and that the inlets to the soul will be cleared of all obstructions; so that no impression made on such a sensorium shall fail to give the mind a distinct perception. In heaven, such extreme sensibility might become a source of richest pleasure; in the world of despair, an instrument of severe punishment; yet in both cases it might be the natural result of a man’s earthly course. Now, such an indefinite exaltation of the perceptions in futurity scarcely any one will doubt. Why should we doubt any more that it may rise so high that man will be able to read, through the agencies we have pointed out, the minutest action and thought in human experience? If, as we have reason to suppose, angelscan do it now, the Bible informs us that we shall be like the angels.
If this view be admitted, then it may be that the present world is the only spot in the universe where deeds of wickedness can be concealed. In a sinful world we can see reasons why the power of concealment should exist to some extent. For though no man should do or think any thing which he is ashamed to have known, yet, if all the plans of men for the promotion of good objects were fully known from their inception, the wicked could generally defeat them. But in a world of perfect holiness no such necessity would exist, since the universal desire would be to promote every worthy object; and, therefore, it may be that every soul will lie perfectly open to the inspection of all other souls—an arrangement that seems appropriate to such a world.
In what an aspect does this principle present the conduct of the suicide! Tired of earthly scenes, he rushes unbidden into eternity to escape them. But instead of escaping them, he goes where every one of these mortal evils—yea, and multiplied, too, a thousand fold—shall start up in his path with a distinctness of which he had no conception. And henceforth he can never find, as in this world, even a partial deliverance from their terrible vividness. It is as if, to avoid the moonlight, because too bright, a man should plunge into the sun.
Again, if this principle be true, how annoying will it be, to the man who has not acted well his part in this world, to meet in eternity the ever-recurring mementoes of his evil deeds! He will hardly be able to open his eyes without seeing some plague-spot on creation as the result of his conduct; and although infinite wisdom and power have stayed the plague, no thanks are due to him. The tendencies of his conduct onearth will be most distressing to look upon; and these shall not cease to lie open before him till the last sand in the glass of eternity is run out.
But, on the other hand, how does this principle strew the path of eternity with flowers to that man who, in this world, finds his highest pleasure in doing good! Not merely his highest and noblest deeds of benevolence here shall loom up in bright perspective there, but a thousand acts of private beneficence, unknown to the world and forgotten by himself, shall stand out distinctly on the moving panorama of that better world; and he will be amazed to see what a wide and blessed influence they have exerted, and will exert, as the catalytic influence moves on and widens in its endless march. It might have ruined him to see these fruits in this world, by exciting pride and vain glory; but it will awaken there only gratitude and love to the grace that enabled him thus, in time, to sow the seeds which should fill eternity with flowers, and fragrance, and golden fruit.
Finally. What new and astonishing avenues of knowledgedoes this subject show us will probably open upon the soul in eternity!
I do not now speak of the new knowledge of the divine character which will then astonish and delight the soul by direct intuition, but rather of those new channels that will be thrown open, through which a knowledge of other worlds, and of other created beings, can be conveyed to the soul almost illimitably. And just consider what a field that will be. At present we know nothing of the inhabitants of other worlds, and it is only by analogy that we make their existence probable. Nor, with our present senses, could we learn any thing respecting them but by an actual visit to each world. But let the suggestions to which our reasonings haveconducted us prove true,—let our sensorium be so modified and spiritualized that every thought, word, and action in those worlds shall come to us through pulsations falling upon the organ of vision, or by an electric current through the nerve of sensation, or by some transmitted chemical change,—and on what vantage ground should we be placed! Without leaving the spot of our residence, supposing the universe constituted as it now is, we might study out the character and constitution of the countless inhabitants of at least one hundred millions of worlds, which we know to exist; nay, of ten thousand times that number, which probably exist. Every movement of matter around us, however infinitesimal, would be freighted with new knowledge, perhaps from distant spheres. Every ray of light that met our gaze from the broad heavens above us would print an image upon our visual organs of events transpiring in distant worlds, while every electrical flash might convey some idea to our mind never before thought of. Every chemical ray, too, might inform us of scenes far off in the regions of night; and then who can calculate what organic and mental influences might be transmitted to us from beings of all ranks and scattered through all worlds? To speak of organs, indeed, as the medium of perceptions in another world, may be absurd; but we mean only, by that term, whatever may be substituted for our present organs; and we assume that the properties of matter will exist forever; and, therefore, we may presume that light, and electricity, and chemical affinity, and corporeal and mental influences will, under modified forms, be the modes by which knowledge shall ever be transmitted. At least, assuming that they will be, and the magnificent conceptions we have now traced out may be hereafter realized. And surely, if they be only slightly probable, the anticipation is full of thrillinginterest, and the moral effect of dwelling upon it must be salutary. It spreads out before us fields of knowledge which eternity can never exhaust, and attractive so immeasurably above all the knowledge of earth that we almost wait impatiently for the summons to break from our prison-house below, and to rise on our new pinions to celestial scenes.
If such rich means of knowledge of created things be enjoyed by celestial minds, and they can drink it in to the full measure of their faculties, then one inevitable effect must be to make them unite, ever and anon, in adoration and praise to the infinite Being who created and sustains all, and whose glory is illustrated by all his works. And we can conceive that there may be stated periods, when, from every part of the universe, the anthem of praise comes rolling onwards towards some central spot, where the divine presence is most felt. O, how gladly will each happy soul, animated by every new accession of knowledge, join in the swelling pæan as it mounts up to the third heavens! Who knows but this is the hour when the peal is beginning? O, let not this world be the only spot in the universe where it shall be unheard and unheeded. Surely we see enough of the divine glory here to begin the song, which we hope to pour forth in loftier notes on high,unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God; to whom be honor and glory, forever and ever. Amen.
THE VAST PLANS OF JEHOVAH.
It is interesting and instructive to trace the history of man’s progress in the knowledge of the existence, character, and plans of Jehovah. We shall find that progress to have been marked by epochs, rather than continuous advancement. Some new revelation from heaven, or some new discovery in science, has given a sudden expansion to his views of the Deity, which have then remained in a good degree stationary for a long period. My chief object in this lecture is to show what accessions to our knowledge of the divine plans have been derived from science, especially from geology. But it will give greater distinctness and impressiveness to the subject to take a review of the principal steps by which the human mind has reached its present accurate spiritual and enlarged views of the Deity.
We will first look at man in the rudest condition in society, in which he has any idea of the existence of beings superior to himself.
For there is a state of his being in which no such ideas exist in his mind; tribes of men, and especially individuals, who have lived in a wild state, away from all human intercourse, have been found with no idea of a superior being of any sort. Other tribes have existed a little more elevated above the irrational animals, and these have an impression, derived perhaps from their moral sense, or growing out oftheir superstitious fears, that some power exists in the universe greater than themselves. But having never entertained an abstract idea on any other subject, and depending alone upon their senses for their knowledge, they identify God with the most remarkable objects of nature. They listen to his voice in the wind and the thunder, in the ocean’s roar, and the volcano’s bellowing; and they see him in the sun, moon, and stars. They feel that he must be superior to themselves; but how much superior, they know not. They never think of him as infinite, because the idea of infinity on any subject never enters their mind. They conceive of the earth only as a plain of considerable extent, bounded by a circle, beyond which their thoughts never wander; and they look up to the heavens as a dome, perhaps solid, studded by luminous bodies, it may be a few feet or yards in diameter. They suppose that, somehow or other, this superior Being has the control of their destinies; but the idea of any thing like worship is too spiritual to be conceived of, except, perhaps, some superstitious rite, performed to deprecate the divine displeasure. In short, every thing in their notion of God is indefinite, gross, and confined to the narrow sphere of the senses.
In the second place, polytheism, especially among nations somewhat civilized, is an advance in man’s conceptions of the Supreme Being.
Polytheism probably originated in the deification of distinguished men. Superior minds, who had been the leaders or the benefactors of mankind, were suddenly torn from an admiring world by death. Their bodies were left behind, but the animating principle, the immortal mind, had vanished in a moment; and it was a most natural inquiry, even among the most ignorant, whether some undying principle had not escaped and gone to a higher sphere; for it would be difficultto conceive how so much intelligence and virtue should be quenched in a moment in eternal night. It would be a most natural and gratifying conclusion with survivors, that their departed leaders and benefactors still lived, and were in some way concerned in watching over their interests, and in controlling their destinies. Conjectures of this sort would, in a few generations, settle into positive belief. Now, this would be a most important advance upon the gross materialism, and indefinite ideas, which identified divinity with striking objects of nature; for if distinguished warriors and statesmen were still alive after their bodies were laid in the grave, there must have escaped, at the moment of death, some principle too subtile to be cognizable by the senses, or by chemical, mechanical, or electrical agencies; and which, therefore, may have been immaterial. At least, by such a belief, men would be led insensibly to form an idea of the human soul as an extremely tenuous, if not immaterial, principle. Especially would educated men—those devoted to philosophical pursuits—come at length to have a clear conception of a spiritual being, neither visible by the senses, nor dependent upon the senses for the exercise of its faculties. Very soon would the imagination fill the universe with such beings, and conceive them as holding intercourse with one another, and as presiding over all the objects of this lower world, and directing all its destinies. It would be very natural, however, to endow these superior beings with human characteristics, and to suppose them actuated by human passions; and thus would the celestial society be represented as a counterpart of that on earth, deformed by the same vices and crimes. This would lead to the idea of a gradation in rank, power, and intellect among the gods, and to the conception of one as supreme. In the popular mythology, however, even Jupiter wasrepresented as acting under the influence of selfishness, pride, lust, and passion; and as sometimes brought into peril by his powerful inferiors. Some of the philosophers of Greece and Rome did, indeed, give descriptions of their supreme divinity not unworthy the biblical views of Jehovah. It may be that they got the clew to these just and elevated conceptions from the Bible. But it is not difficult to conceive that, in the manner which I have described, they might, by reasoning, with, perhaps, some hints derived from revelation, have gradually attained to these just and noble conceptions of the supreme divinity. Yet it ought not to be forgotten that these exalted views of the philosophers were not shared at all by the common people, and that even the philosophers themselves were for the most part polytheists.
The next step in man’s knowledge of God was an immeasurable advance upon polytheism.I refer to the revelation which God made of himself to the Jews in the Old Testament.Most of this revelation did, indeed, precede the writings of the Greek and Roman philosophers, but it was confined to a rude and almost unknown people, until the days of their glory had gone by, and did not spread over the globe till an opportunity had been afforded to prove thatthe world by wisdom knew not God. You may, indeed, find, in the writings of a few philosophers, passages descriptive of the natural attributes of the Deity that will compare favorably with those of the Old Testament. But his moral attributes, his benevolence, mercy, justice, and holiness, are brought out in the Old Testament in a far more distinct and impressive manner than in all other ancient writings. Another point, and a vital one, with the writers of the Old Testament, in which that inspired volume goes infinitely beyond the philosophers, is the unity of God. They teach, as a fundamental principle, and withall the earnestness which inspiration can bestow, not only that Jehovah is supreme, but that he is God alone, and that no other gods exist. You may, indeed, find statements to this effect in the works of the philosophers; but the conduct of Socrates, the most enlightened of them all,—in his dying moments,—in directing a sacrifice to be made to Æsculapius, is a good practical commentary upon their doctrine of the divine unity. It shows that, with some correct notions of the supreme divinity, they believed in the existence of inferior deities; or, at least, they did not regard the popular error on this subject of importance enough to require them boldly to testify against it. But such testimony constitutes the burden of the Old Testament, as if all other religious truths were of little importance without it. And so far as these inspired books succeeded in fixing this doctrine in the minds of the Jews, they performed an immense service for religion. They swept at once from the universe the thirty thousand divinities of Greece and Rome, and placed Jehovah only on the throne. But, for some reason or other, polytheism has always been a doctrine most congenial to human nature; especially to the uncultivated mind; and the probability is, that the great mass of the Jews, while they believed in the supremacy of Jehovah, still supposed that the gods of the heathen had a real existence. This certainly was the case before the Babylonish exile, though doubtless the patriarchs had more correct notions. This fact explains the otherwise unaccountable disposition of the Jews to fall away to idolatry, in spite of all which Jehovah did to preserve among them his true worship.
On the subject, also, of the divine spirituality, we have evidence that the notions of the great mass of the Jewish nation were low and confused. They distinguished, it is true, very clearly between the body and the soul. But they probablyconceived of the latter as a very subtile, invisible, corporeal essence, and not that pure, immaterial substance which is understood by that term in metaphysics. The abstract ideas attached to the soul in the nineteenth century probably never entered their minds; and though in strict language they might be called materialists, they were by no means such materialists as modern times have produced, who understandingly deny the existence of the soul, and regard it as a function of the brain. The Jews thought of God as the most subtile essence of which they could form any idea; but whether he were material, or immaterial, probably they never inquired. And it cannot escape the notice of a reader of the Old Testament how frequently God is represented by figures derived from material objects. This was in accommodation to the rude and uncultivated state of most minds in those early days. Purely abstract truths would have conveyed no ideas to minds which had never been accustomed to abstractions. Hence it is, that we meet in the Bible with so many descriptions of the Deity, which theologians and philosophers denominateanthropopathicandanthropomorphic. It was in accommodation to the uncultivated state of common minds, which could form no conceptions of God that were not founded on some property belonging to man. The language of the sacred writers does, indeed, when correctly interpreted, convey the idea of the most perfectly simple, spiritual, and immaterial substance as constituting the divine essence; and minds accustomed to abstract ideas find no difficulty in enucleating the spiritual meaning of Scripture. But had the divine Being been described by abstract terms, the great mass of men, even at the present day, would receive no impressive conception of the Godhead. God, therefore, in the Old Testament, revealed as much concerning himself and his plans, as men wouldunderstand. But other revelations and developments would follow, when the human mind should be prepared to receive and appreciate them.
The revelations of Christianity have brought to light so much respecting the moral character and moral government of Jehovah, as to leave little further to be desired or expected in this world.
The natural attributes of the Deity have a more spiritual and less anthropopathic aspect in the New Testament than in the Old. We are told in the former distinctly, thatGod is a spirit, and those who worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth. But God’s moral character, as developed in the New Testament, in the plan of redemption and salvation, presents us with a perfection and a glory unknown in all previous revelations. We have, it is true, in the Old Testament intimations and predictions of the plan, which is fully developed and exemplified in the new dispensation. But these were only shadows of Jesus Christ and him crucified. When he appeared, and by his sufferings, as a substitute for man, reconciled divine justice and mercy, and made a clear exposition of the moral law, and a disclosure of a future state of retributions, a flood of light was thrown upon God’s moral character. Every cloud that had rested upon it was cleared away, and immaculate holiness covered it with unapproachable splendor. In short, the human mind is incapable of forming a more correct estimate of moral excellence than is exhibited in the scriptural plan of salvation. The more it is meditated upon, and the more we experience its practical influence, the higher will be our conceptions of the moral glory of the divine character; nor have we reason to suppose that any further revelations would increase our apprehensions of it. For benevolence, mercy, justice, and grace are here exhibited inunlimited, that is, in infinite, glory and perfection, and therefore can never be exceeded.
But though the exhibitions of the divine character and plans contained in the Bible are thus perfect and excellent, they are not the only exhibitions which the universe contains, and which man is capable of understanding.Lo, these are a part of his ways.The Bible has left the wonders of the natural world where it found them, to be examined and developed by philosophy. Some have thought that it has anticipated a few scientific discoveries; but if it had done this in one instance, it must have carried the same plan through the whole circle of science; else how could readers determine when the sacred writers were describing phenomena according to appearances and general belief, and when according to real scientific truth? But the fact is, scientific discoveries are left to man’s ingenuity; and as they are made from time to time, they bring out new and splendid illustrations of the character and plans of Jehovah. Let us now recur to some of these discoveries, that have opened the widest vistas into the arcana of nature.
The discoveries in modern astronomy constitute the fifth step in man’s knowledge of God.
In order to see how much man’s conceptions of the universe have been enlarged by these discoveries, compare the opinions which prevailed before the introduction of the Copernican system with what is now certain knowledge, founded upon physico-mathematics, respecting the extent of the universe. Then this earth was thought to be the centre and the principal body of the creation, immovably fixed, with the heavenly bodies, generally thought to be of diminutive size, revolving around it every twenty-four hours. The earth, too, except in the opinion of a few sagacious philosophers, was not imagined to be that vast globe which we now understand it to be, but aflat surface, perhaps a few hundred or thousand miles in extent, bounded by a circle, and resting on an imaginary foundation. The heavenly bodies were looked upon as little more than shining points, or at most a few yards, or by the most daring fancies a few miles, in extent. What a change have the telescope, the quadrant, and the transit instrument, aided by profound mathematics, and the talismanic power of the Newtonian theory of gravitation, produced! Every schoolboy now knows that this globe, enormous though it be compared with what the eye can take in from the loftiest eminence, is but a mere speck in creation, and, with the exception of the moon, appearing from other worlds only as one of the smallest stars in their heavens; so small that its extinction would not be noticed. To the ignorant mind, distances and magnitudes exceeding a hundred miles are conceived of only with great difficulty. But the astronomer, when he conceives of magnitudes, must make a thousand miles his shortest unit, and a million of miles when he conceives of distances in the solar system. And when he attempts to go beyond the sun and the planets, the shortest division on his measuring line must be the diameter of the earth’s orbit; and even then he will be borne onward so far, not on the wings of imagination, but of mathematics, that this enormous distance has vanished to a point. Even then he has only reached the nearest fixed star, and, of course, has only just entered upon the outer limit of creation. He must prepare himself for a still loftier flight. He must give up the diameter of the earth’s orbit as the unit of his measurements, because too short, and take as his standard the passage of light, at the rate of two hundred thousand miles per second. With that speed can he go on, until his mind has reckoned up six thousand years of seconds, and he will reach fixed starswhose light has not yet arrived at the earth, because it did not commence its journey till the time of man’s creation.
But it is not merely in respect to distance and magnitude that astronomy has enlarged our knowledge of the universe. Numerically it has opened a field equally wide. Think of two thousand worlds rolling nightly around us, visible to the naked eye. Take the telescope, and see those two thousand multiply to fifty or one hundred millions, and then recollect how very improbable it is that the keenest optics of earth can reach more than an infinitesimal part of creation. Surely the mind is as much confounded and lost, when it attempts to conceive of the number of the worlds in the universe, as when it contemplates their distances and magnitudes. In respect to number and distance, at least, we find no resting-place but in infinity.
Now, when we turn our thoughts to the Author of such a universe, our conceptions of his power, wisdom, and benevolence cannot but enlarge in the same ratio as our views of his works. They must, therefore, experience a prodigious expansion. And, indeed, the merest child in a Christian land, in the nineteenth century, has a far wider and nobler conception of the perfections of Jehovah than the wisest philosopher who lived before astronomy had gone forth on her circumnavigation of the universe. From the fact, also, which astronomy discloses, that worlds are in widely different chemical and geological conditions, some gaseous and transparent, some solid and opaque, and some liquid and incandescent, the mind can hardly avoid the inference that they are fulfilling the vast and varied plans of Jehovah.
The sixth step in man’s knowledge of Jehovah has been made by the microscope.
To give any correct idea of the boundless field which thatinstrument has opened into the infinitesimal parts of creation, it would be necessary to go into details too extended for the present occasion. Perhaps the animalcula or infusoria furnish the best example. “In the clearest waters,” says an able writer, “and also in the strongly-troubled acid and salt fluids of the various zones of the earth; in springs, rivers, lakes, and seas; in the internal moisture of living plants and animal bodies; and probably, at times, carried about in the vapor and dust of the whole atmosphere of the earth, exists a world, by the common senses of mankind unperceived, of very minute living beings, which have been called, for the last seventy years,infusoria. In the ordinary pursuits of life, this mysterious and infinite kingdom of living creatures is passed by without our knowledge of, or interest in, its wonders. But to the quiet observer how astonishing do these become, when he brings to his aid those optical powers by which his faculty of vision is so much strengthened! In every drop of dirty, stagnant water, we are generally, if not always, able to perceive, by means of the microscope, moving bodies, of from one eleven hundred and fiftieth to one twenty-five thousandth of an inch in diameter, and which often lie packed so closely together that the space between each individual scarcely equals that of their diameter.”—Prichard,History of Infusoria, p. 2, 1841.
Again says he, “It is hardly conceivable that, within the narrow space, [of a grain of mustard-seed,] eight millions of living, active creatures can exist, all richly endowed with the organs and faculties of animal life. Such, however, is the astonishing fact.”—Ib.p. 3.
In short, whoever will thoroughly study this subject will be satisfied that Dr. Ehrenberg does not exceed the truth when he asserts, as the result of his inquiries, that “experienceshows an unfathomableness of organic creations, when attention is directed to the smallest space, as it does of stars, when revealing the most immense.”—Prichard, p. 8.
He who follows out the revelations of the telescope, as it penetrates deeper and deeper into space, will feel, when he has seen the remotest object which its power discloses, that there must certainly be a vast unknown region beyond, infinitely exceeding that one over which he has passed. Just so is it with the microscope. It penetrates to an astonishing distance into the infinitesimal forms of organic and inorganic matter; but every improvement in the instrument reaches a new and equally interesting field; and the conclusion forces itself upon the mind that there are regions beyond of indefinite extent, teeming with countless millions even of organic beings, of a size much more diminutive than those yet discovered, and with inorganic forms too minute for the imagination to conceive. Indeed, we can no more set limits to creation in the direction pointed out by the microscope than in that laid open by the telescope. We hence get a most impressive conception of divine wisdom and benevolence, which could thus bestow exquisite organization and life upon atoms minute beyond the power of the imagination to conceive. Indeed, it seems to me that the lesson is even more striking than the contemplation of vast worlds in rapid and harmonious motion; because the latter seem to demand only infinite power, but the former requires infinite wisdom to direct infinite power.
In the seventh and last place, geology has given great enlargement to our knowledge of the divine plans and operations in the universe, and in the following particulars:—
1. It expands our ideas of the time in which the material universe has been in existence as much as astronomy does in regard to its extent.
To those not familiar with the details of geology, this will probably seem a startling and extravagant assertion. There has been, and still is, an extreme sensitiveness in the minds of intelligent men on this subject. And I highly respect the ground from which their apprehensions spring, viz., a fear that to admit the great antiquity of the globe would bring discredit upon revelation. And yet I believe the most candid and able theologians of the present day do not fear that to admit the existence of the matter of the world previous to the six days’ work of creation, is inconsistent with the Mosaic statement. But if we allow any period between its creation and the six demiurgic days, it is no more derogatory to Scripture to make that period ten millions of years than ten years. For if the sacred writer would pass over ten years in silence, he could, with the same propriety, pass over ten millions. Now, the longer I study geology, the nearer do my ideas approximate to the latter number as a measure of the earth’s duration. Let us contemplate a few facts. We are able to trace the geological changes that have taken place on the earth since man’s existence upon it with a good deal of accuracy. For since his remains are found only in alluvium, we must regard all changes that took place previous to the deposition of that formation to have been of an earlier date than his creation. Now, what are the changes which the last six thousand years have witnessed? In some places, the agency of rivers and other causes have made an accumulation of alluvial matter to the depth of not more than one or two hundred feet, although in particular places it is several hundred feet. These deposits have been pushed forward at the mouths of some large rivers, so as to cover hundreds, and even thousands, of square miles. Oceanic currents have also made deposits in the bottom of wide seas of considerable extent; and in some limited spotsthese deposits have been consolidated into rock. The action of frost and gravity, also, has crumbled from precipitous ledges angular fragments enough to form a slope of detritus sometimes a hundred feet high. The polyparia, or coral builders, have advanced their work only a few feet in thickness during this period, and soils have accumulated in some places about as much. Volcanic action has occasionally thrown up a new island from the ocean’s bed; but only a few of them have been permanent. Some tracts of country, in no case more than a few hundred miles in extent, have, by the same agency, been raised a few feet, or sunk down the same amount. But after all, the earth’s surface remains essentially the same as when man was placed upon it.
Now, compare these slight changes with those which have preceded it, through the operation of the same agencies, since the first existence of animals upon the globe. I will not contend, with some distinguished geologists, that these same changes have always operated with the same intensity as at present. But there are several circumstances which show that the depositions from water could not have been essentially different in ancient and modern times. Now, just compare six or eight miles in thickness of the fossiliferous deposits of the previous periods with the two hundred feet of alluvium accumulated during the historic period; and, after you have made all reasonable allowance for the greater intensity of action in former times, you will still find yourselves confounded by the incalculable time requisite to pile up such an immense thickness of materials, and then to harden most of them into stone; especially when you call to mind the numerous changes of organic life, and the vast amount of animal remains which they exhibit. A superficial observer might lump such a work, and crowd it into a few thousandyears. But the more its details are studied, the longer does the period appear that is requisite for its production. Each successive investigation discovers new evidence of changes in composition, or organic contents, or of vertical movements effected by extremely slow agencies, so as to make the whole work immeasurably long.
But when we have gone back to the commencement of animal existence on the globe, we have taken but one step in our review of its early history. The next backward step embraces that wide period during which the stratified, non-fossiliferous rocks—far thicker than the fossiliferous—were deposited; probably by the agency of fire and water. Or if we adopt the metamorphic theory of Mr. Lyell, we shall be still more deeply impressed by the length of that period, during which these rocks were in a course of deposition, consolidation, and metamorphosis. For he supposes them originally deposited from water, just as mud, sand, and gravel now are accumulating in the ocean’s bed, and to have enveloped organic beings, as similar materials now do. Next the whole were consolidated, so as to form the exact prototype of the existing fossiliferous rocks; and finally it underwent almost complete fusion, by the slow propagation of internal heat upwards, until all the organic contents were obliterated, and a crystalline structure was substituted. Nay, according to this theory, other systems of rocks, of an analogous character, may have preceded the present primary stratified ones, and have been at length entirely melted into the unstratified; so that we cannot say when organic life first began on the globe. But I will not press this theory, because most of the ablest geologists reject it, at least in its full extent. And we have a period long enough to confound the imagination, if we take the common view, which supposes the non-fossiliferousrocks to have been deposited from water, at a temperature too high to admit the existence of organic beings.
We have now gone back to that point in the earth’s history when a crust had begun to form over the shoreless ocean of melted matter, of which we have reason to suppose it was then composed. Shall we attempt to trace back that history any farther? The light does, indeed, grow dim, and the clew more and more uncertain, the farther we recede along the track of the earth’s existence. Still there are some scattered rays that seem to recall to us a condition of the earth still earlier than that in which it constituted a molten globe. It may have been dissipated into vapor, like a comet, or a nebula; and subsequently, by the slow radiation of its heat, have been condensed into an opaque, though a melted, incandescent mass. Several analogies certainly throw an air of plausibility over this hypothesis. And if such was, indeed, the earliest condition of the earth, the time requisite to condense it into melted matter must have been longer than any other period of its history.
Who, now, at all familiar with the dynamics of geological agencies, shall undertake to give an arithmetical expression to the periods that make up the world’s entire history? Not only does the reasoning faculty fail to grasp the entire sum, but even imagination, as she flies backwards through period after period, tires in the effort, and brings back not even a conjectural result. The same feeling does, in fact, come over the mind, which she experiences when astronomy has hurried her from world to world, from sun to sun, from system to system, from nebula to nebula, and yet she seems no nearer to the limits of creation than when she started. We know certainly that there are limits; because matter cannot be infinite. But we cannot conjecture where they are fixed. We know, alsothat there was a time when this world did not exist, an epoch when its entire mass was spoken into existence by the fiat of Jehovah; because the Bible expressly declares it. But that epoch is unrevealed. If there is any truth in geology, it was certainly more than six thousand years ago. Nay, that science carries us as far back into the arcana of time as astronomy does into the arcana of space. Neither the distance in the one case, nor the duration in the other, can be estimated. But there is a sublime inspiration in the effort to grasp the subject; and I see not why there is not as much grandeur and high gratification in the idea of vast duration as of vast expansion. And I see not why we do not gain as much enlargement of our conceptions of the plans of Jehovah respecting the universe in the one case as in the other. We cannot but infer, from the pre-Adamic state of our world, that it must have subserved other purposes than to sustain its present inhabitants.
2. In the second place, geology gives us impressive examples of the extent of organic life on the globe since its creation.
I shall not contend, with some geologists, that even the primary crystalline rocks may once have been filled with organic remains, which have been obliterated by heat; and that, in this way, there may have been a number of creations of organized beings on the globe, of which no trace now remains. I take as the basis of my argument only the relics of animals and plants actually found in the rocks. And when one sees mountain masses, often of small shells, and spread over wide areas, he is amazed to learn how prolific nature has been. What a countless number of vegetables, too, must have been required to produce beds of coal from one to fifty feet thick, and extending over thousands of square miles, and alternating several times with sandstone in the same basin!There is reason to believe, too, that the number of animals preserved in the strata bears only a small proportion to those which have been utterly destroyed and decomposed into their original elements. For example, in the sandstone along Connecticut River, the tracks of more than forty species of bipeds and quadrupeds have been found most distinctly marked. Some of these bipeds must have been of colossal size—as much as twelve or fifteen feet in height. And yet scarcely any other vestige of their existence has been discovered. They were the giant rulers of that valley for centuries; but they have all vanished. How numerous, then, may have been the softer animals of the ancient world, which have not left even a footmark to certify their existence to coming generations!
But the facts recently brought to light respecting infusoria and polythalamia fill us with the greatest admiration of the extent of organic life upon the globe. We have already seen that some of these animals are so minute that eight millions of them are found in a space not larger than a mustard-seed; and yet they had skeletons of silex, lime, and iron; and, of course, these skeletons have been preserved; and, though of the smallest size, it requires not less than forty-one billions to make a single cubic inch; yet deposits of them, or of species not much larger, occur, several feet in thickness, and extending over several square miles. Nay, the chalk of Northern Europe, and also of Western Asia, where it constitutes most of Mount Lebanon, and extends southerly through Palestine into Arabia and Egypt, and also deposits in North and South America, thousands of miles in extent,—this rock, I say, is nearly half composed of microscopic shells. The oölite, also, contains them; and, indeed, infusorial remains occur in flint and opal; and, as instruments and observations areperfected, more and more of the solid rocks are found to have once constituted the framework of animals. It is hardly to be doubted that such was the fact with nearly all the limestone on the globe, occupying at least a seventh part of its surface. In fact, we seem fast coming to regard as sober truth the ancient adage, apparently so extravagant—Omnis calx e vermibus; omne ferrum e vermibus; omnis silex e vermibus.Indeed, it is the opinion of so competent a geologist as Dr. Mantell that “probably there is not an atom of the solid materials of the globe which has not passed through the complex and wonderful laboratory of life.”—Wond. of Geology, vol. ii. p. 670.—What a vast field here opens before us to contemplate the far-reaching plans, the benevolence, and the wisdom of the Deity!
In the third place, geology shows us that the present system of organic life on the globe is but one link of a series, extending very far backward and infinitely forward.
Revelation describes only the existing species, leaving to science the task and the privilege to lift up the veil that hangs over the past, and to disclose other economies that have passed away. How many of them have existed we do not certainly know. If, with Agassiz, we characterize them by their predominant tribes, we might say that all the period previous to the new red sandstone constituted the reign of fishes; from thence to the chalk, the reign of reptiles; from thence to the drift, the reign of mammifera. But this is a less philosophical view than that of Deshayes, who finds five great groups of animals, specifically independent of one another. But who will attempt to fix the chronological limits of these systems? We can only say that they must have been exceedingly long, if we can place any dependence upon existing analogies; and we know that each one of them is made up ofnumerous subdivisions, or minor groups, widely, though not entirely, different in composition and organic contents. We know that the more we examine the whole series, the deeper does our conviction become that its commencement runs back far, very far, into the depths of past eternity. We know, also, from the joint testimony of Scripture and geology, that another change is to pass over the world, to prepare it for inhabitants far more elevated than those now living upon it, and in possession of perfect holiness and perfect happiness. And it may be it will experience far greater changes, adapting it for higher and higher grades of being, through periods of duration to which we can assign no limits. O, what a vast chain of being is here spread out before the imagination, reaching immeasurably far into the depths of the eternity which is past, and into the eternity which is to come! What a field for the display of God’s infinite perfections! What a vista does it open to us into the vast plans and purposes of Jehovah!
In the fourth place, geology reveals to us a curious series of improvements in the condition of worlds, as they pass through successive changes.
If the earth began its existence in the state of vapor, we can hardly imagine it in that state capable of sustaining any organic natures, formed upon the general type of those now existing. Nor, when the vapor was condensed into a molten globe, could such natures inhabit it, till a crust had formed over its surface, and the heat had been so reduced as not to decompose animals and plants. Even then, the natures placed upon it must have been of a peculiar and low type of organization, capable of enduring the high temperature and catastrophes which would destroy those of more delicate and complicated organization. But gradually did the temperaturediminish, while aqueous and atmospheric agencies were accumulating a deeper and a richer soil, so that the next change of inhabitants would allow natures of a higher organization and a denser population to occupy the surface. Their remains, buried in the earth, would increase the quantity of carbonate of lime in a form available for the use of animals and plants; that is, lime would gradually be eliminated, by plants and animals, from its more concealed combinations in the crystalline rocks, and be converted into carbonates, sulphates, and humates. A larger amount of organic matter would also be converted into humus. Now, limestone soils are of all others most favorable to vegetation, when there is a sufficient supply of organic matter. Hence every successive change becomes more and more adapted for animals and plants, because the lime and the organic matter in a state favorable for their support have been increasing; and the present state of the surface is more favorable than any conditions which have preceded it, and accordingly it is peopled with more perfect and more numerous organic natures. Can we doubt but that, if another change passes over the earth, this same great principle of progressive improvement will be manifested in the renovated world? I am not prepared to maintain, however, that this future change will be, like the past ones, an improvement as to soil and climate; for the change, as Scripture teaches, will be accomplished by fire; and so different will be the state of existence in the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness, that we cannot say how far the present system of nature will be introduced. But that it will be an improved condition, we can hardly doubt, if we infer any thing from the splendid figures by which it is described in the Bible, and from the character of those who are to be its denizens.
Some of the facts of modern astronomy impress us with theidea that this principle of progress may extend to other worlds. Some of these are in a gaseous state, some condensed into fiery liquid globes, some covered with a crust of solidified volcanic matter, and some surrounded by a liquid, like water. Do not these facts justify the supposition, that the changes which our earth has undergone are merely a single example of a great principle in God’s government of the natural world? If so, it presents the divine wisdom in an interesting aspect. We see the Deity employing the same matter for different purposes. Instead of creating it for one single economy of organic beings, he seems to have made it the theatre for the display of his benevolence through successive periods; but at the same time not losing sight of the highest use he intended to make of it, by the introduction of rational and immortal natures upon it. Human wisdom would have pronounced this impossible; but divine wisdom, prompted by divine benevolence, could accomplish it.
Finally, geology discloses to us chemical change as a great animating, controlling, and conservative principle of the material universe.
When Newton brought to light the principle of gravitation, and showed how it controls and keeps in harmonious movement the heavenly bodies, he developed the great mechanical power by which the universe is governed. And this power was supposed for a long time to be superior to all others. But geology has brought out a second great controlling and conservative agency,—the chemical power,—“the second right hand of the Creator,” as Dr. McCulloch expressively calls it. Suppose matter under the control of gravity, and let it be balanced by a centrifugal force. You have, indeed, harmonious motions among the celestial bodies, and, if no disturbing cause come in, you have endless motion. But untilyou introduce chemical agencies, every thing in the individual worlds would be compacted by gravity into one dead mass of matter, destined to no resurrection. But let chemical agencies leaven that mass, let affinity and cohesion commence their segregating processes, and constant motion and change would follow, with a thousand new and splendid forms. Especially when the Deity had infused the living principle into portions of that matter, and put chemistry, and her handmaid electricity, under the control of the vital power, would these worlds teem with animation, and countless exhibitions of beauty.
And in all known worlds, these chemical changes are at work unceasingly. We know not whether those worlds are all inhabited, but we have evidence that all are undergoing the transmutations of chemistry; not on their surface merely, but in their deep interior. The consequence is, universal change; change often upon a vast scale; change extending through thousands and millions of years, and through the entire mass of immense worlds. We have glanced, in these lectures, at the most important of those changes which this world has undergone, and we have seen it to be almost universal. We have found that the entire crust of the globe, many miles in thickness, and probably to its centre, has been dissolved by heat, and much of it also by water; that a large part of it, at least, has, by the same chemistry, been made to constitute portions of the animal frame; that, even now, much of its interior is held in igneous solution, and that probably the time was when its entire mass was a molten, self-luminous world. Indeed, the conjecture is not without some foundation, which carries back this chemical action one step farther, and makes the world originally a diffused mass of nebula.
At this point of the argument, geology appeals to astronomy,to show how widely this principle of chemical change has operated, and still operates, in the universe. We look first at the nebulæ; for here we probably find matter in its most chaotic and attenuated form, constituting self-luminous, diffused masses of vapor. In some of them, however, that matter has begun to condense, doubtless by the radiation of its heat. In the comets, we find probably similar matter, some of it still farther advanced in the process of condensation, so that perhaps a nearly solid nucleus may exist. In the sun and fixed stars, the condensation has gone on so far that cohesive attraction begins to operate, the latent heat of the vapor is extricated, and melted luminous worlds are the result. Around them, however, there probably still floats a wide atmosphere of the more elastic materials, which the heat dissipates, of which the zodiacal light, perhaps, furnishes us with an example. The nebulosity which surrounds the asteroids, Ceres, Pallas, Juno, Vesta, and Astrea, renders it probable that, though they have advanced so far in the process of refrigeration as to become opaque, they may still retain heat enough to dissipate much of their substance. Still farther advanced towards the condition of a habitable world is the moon; and yet volcanic desolation covers its surface. Not improbably Jupiter is nearly surrounded with a fluid like water, and Saturn by a fluid lighter than water—being still farther advanced towards the condition of the earth.
I acknowledge that these are but slight glimpses of the geology and chemistry of other worlds. And yet, taken in connection with the geological history of our own globe, do they not furnish us with some extremely probable examples of those changes to which our earth has been subject? They show us that worlds may exist in the form of vapor, and that some are actually at this time in the various conditions throughwhich geology supposes this world to have passed. Do we not, in these examples, gather strong intimations of a great law of chemical change in the universe? Gaseous matter, so far as we know, appears to have been the earliest state of the universe; and then, by the agency of heat, it passes through the successive changes of liquid and solid, which have been described.
The chemical changes that take place on the earth, under our immediate cognizance, through the agency of water, usually proceed, under favorable circumstances, in a cycle; that is, the substance, after passing through a series of changes, returns at length into the same condition from which it started. Thus aqueous vapor, by the loss of heat, is first converted into water, next into ice, and then, by the access of heat, into water again, and at last into vapor. The question naturally arises, whether those mutations, through which worlds are passing, may not form a similar cycle. We are able to trace them through several steps, from gaseous to liquid, and from the liquid to the solid; and we are assured, on the testimony of Scripture, that the next change of the earth will be from solid to liquid. And in those stars which in past ages have suddenly broken forth with remarkable splendor, and then disappeared, may we not have examples of other worlds burnt up,—not annihilated,—but deluged by fire, and either dissipated or again cooled? What changes, if any, will succeed the final conflagration of the globe, neither science nor revelation informs us.