Chapter 5: Objections Considered Regarding the Knowledge of God

Demands in reference to what has been so far discoursed, with some reasonings thereupon: 1. Is it possible, that, upon supposition of this Being's existence, it may be, in any way suitable to our present state, made known to us that it does exist? Proved 1. That it may. 2. That, since any other fit way, that can be thought on, is as much liable to exception as that we have already: this must be, therefore, sufficient. Strong Impressions. Glorious Apparitions. Terrible Voices. Surprising Transformations. If these necessary. Is it needful they be universal? Frequent? If not, more rare things of this sort not wanting. 2nd Demand. Can subjects, remote from their prince, sufficiently be assured of his existence? 3rd Demand. Can we be sure there are men on earth?

And if any should in the mean time, still remain either doubtful, or apt to cavil, after all that has been said, for proof of that Being's existence which we have described, I would only add these few things, by way of inquiry or demand, namely.

First, Do they believe, upon supposition of the existence of such a Being, that it is possible it may be made known to us, in our present state and circumstances, by means not unsuitable thereto, or inconvenient to the order and government of the world, that it does exist? It were strange to say or suppose, that a Being of so high perfection as this we have so far given an account of, if he is, cannot in any fit way make it known that he is, to an intelligent and apprehensive sort of creatures.

If, indeed, he is; and be the common cause, Author and Lord of us and all things (which we do now but suppose — and we may defy cavil to allege any thing that is so much as colorable against the possibility of the supposition) surely he has done greater things than the making of it known that he is. It is no unapprehensible thing. There has been no inconsistent notion so far given of him. Nothing said concerning him; but will well admit that it is possible such a Being may be now existent. Indeed we not only can conceive, but we actually have (and cannot but have) some conception, of the several attributes we have ascribed to him; so as to apply them (severally) to somewhat else, if we will not apply them (jointly) to him. We cannot but admit there is some eternal necessary Being; somewhat that is of itself, active; somewhat that is powerful, wise, and good. And these notions have in them no repugnancy to one another; therefore it is not impossible they may meet and agree together in full perfection to one and the same existent Being. And hence it is manifestly no unapprehensible thing, that such a Being does exist. Now supposing, that it does exist, and has been to us the cause and Author of our Being; has given us the reasonable, intelligent nature which we find ourselves possessors of; and that very power whereby we apprehend the existence of such a Being as he is to be possible (all which we for the present do still but suppose) while also his actual existence is not unapprehensible, were it not the greatest madness imaginable to say, that if he does exist, he cannot also make our apprehensive nature understand this apprehensible thing that he does exist? We will therefore take it for granted, and as a thing which no man well in his wits will deny, that upon supposition such a Being, the Cause and Author of all things does exist, he might, in some convenient way or other, with sufficient evidence, make it known to such creatures as we, so as to beget in us a rational certainty that he does exist.

Upon which presumed ground we will only reason thus or assume to it; That there is no possible, and fit way of doing it; which is not liable to as much exception, as the evidence we already have. From where it will be consequent, that if the thing be possible to be fitly done, it is done already. That is, that if we can apprehend, how it may be possible such a Being, actually existent, might give us that evidence of his existence that should be suitable to our present state, and sufficient to outweigh all objections to the contrary (without which it were not rationally sufficient.) And that we can apprehend no possible way of doing this, which will not be liable to the same or equal objections as may be made against the present means we have for the begetting of this certainty in us, then we have already sufficient evidence of this Being's existence. That is such as ought to prevail against all objections, and obtain our assent that it does exist.

Here it is only needful to be considered what ways can be thought of, which we will say might assure us in this matter, that we already have not. And what might be objected against them, equally, as against the means we now have.

Will we say such a Being, if he did actually exist, might ascertain us of his existence by some powerful impression of that truth upon our minds?

We will not insist, what there is of this already. Let them consider who gainsay, what they can find of it in their own minds. And whether they are not engaged by their atheistical inclinations in a contention against themselves, and their more natural sentiments: from which they find it a matter of no small difficulty to be delivered? It was not for nothing, that even Epicurus himself calls this of an existing Deity, a proleptical notion. But you may say, the impression might have been simply universal, and so irresistible, as to prevent or overbear all doubt or inclination to doubt.

And, first, for the universality of it, why may we not suppose it already sufficiently universal? As has been so far alleged. With what confidence can the few dissenting atheists, that have professed to be of another persuasion, put that value upon themselves, as to reckon their dissent considerable enough to impede the universality of this impression? Or what does it signify more to that purpose, than some few instances may do, of persons so stupidly foolish as to give much less discovery of any rational faculty, than some beasts, to the impugning the universal rationality of mankind?

Besides that, your contrary profession is no sufficient argument of your contrary persuasion, much less, that you never had any stamp or impression of a Deity upon your minds, or that you have quite razed it out. It is much to be suspected that you hold not your contrary persuasion, with that unshaken confidence, and freedom from all fearful and suspicious misgivings, as that you have much more reason to brag of your disbelief for the strength, than you have for the goodness of it. And that you have those qualmish fits, which betray the impression (at least to your own notice and reflection, if you would but allow yourselves the liberty of so much converse with yourselves) that you will not confess, and yet cannot utterly deface.

But if in this you had quite won the day, and were masters of your design; were it not pretty to suppose that the common consent of mankind would be a good argument of the existence of a Deity. If it be so universal as to include your vote and suffrage (as no doubt it is without you a better than you can answer) but that when you have made a hard shift to withdraw your assent, you have undone the Deity and Religion! Does this cause stand and fall with you? To which you can contribute about as much as the fly to the triumph! Was that true before, which now your hard-labored dissent has made false?

But if this impression were simply universal, so as also to include you, it matters not what men would say or object against it; (it is to be supposed they would be in no disposition to object anything.) But what were to be said; or what the case itself, objectively considered, would admit. And though it would not (as now it does not) admit of anything to be said to any purpose; yet the same thing were still to be said that you now say. And if we should but again unsuppose so much of the former supposition, as to imagine that some few should have made their escape, and disburdened themselves of all apprehensions of God. Would they not with the same impudence as you now do, say that all religion were nothing else but enthusiastical fanaticism? And that all mankind, besides themselves, were enslaved fools?

And for the mere irresistibleness of this impression; it is true it would take away all disposition to oppose, but it may be presumed this is none of the rational evidence which we suppose you to mean; when you admit (if you do admit) that, some way or other, the existence of such a Being might be (possibly) made so evident, as to induce a rational certainty thereof. For to believe such a thing to be true only upon a strong impulse (how certain soever the thing be) is not to assent to it upon a foregoing reason. Nor can any, in that case, tell why they believe it, but that they believe it. You will not sure think anything the truer for this, only, that such and such believe it with a sturdy confidence. It is true that the universality and naturalness of such a persuasion, as pointing us to a common cause thereof, affords the matter of an argument, or is a medium not contemptible nor capable of answer, as has been said before.

But to be irresistibly captivated into an assent, is no medium at all; but an immediate persuasion of the thing itself without a reason.

Therefore must it yet be demanded of atheistical persons, what means, that you yet have not, would you think sufficient to have put this matter out of doubt? Will you say some kind of very glorious apparitions, becoming the majesty of such a one as this Being is represented, would have satisfied? But if you know how to fancy, that such a thing as the Sun, and other luminaries, might have been compacted of a certain peculiar sort of atoms, coming together of their own accord; without the direction of a wise Agent: indeed and consist so long, and hold so strangely regular motions;

How easy would it be to object that, with much advantage, against what any temporary apparition, be it as glorious as you can imagine, might seem to signify to this purpose.

Would dreadful loud voices proclaiming him to be of whose existence you doubt have served the turn? It is likely, if your fear would have permitted you to use your wit, you would have had some subtle inventions how by some odd encounter of angry atoms, the air or clouds might become thus terribly vocal. And when you know already, that they do sometimes salute your ears with very loud sounds (as when it thunders) there is little doubt, but your great wit can devise a way, how possibly such sounds might become articulate. And for the sense and coherent import of what were spoken; you that are so good at conjecturing how things might casually happen, would not be long in making a guess that might serve that turn also. Except you were grown very dull and barren; and that fancy that served you to imagine how the whole frame of the universe: and the rare structure of the bodies of animals, indeed and even the reasonable soul itself might be all casual productions, cannot now devise how, by chance, a few words (for you do not say you expect long orations) might fall out to be sense, though there were no intelligent speaker.

But would strange and wonderful effects that might surprise and amaze you do the business? We may challenge you to try your faculty, and stretch it to the uttermost; and then tell us, what imagination you have formed of anything more strange and wonderful, than the already extant frame of nature in the whole, and the several parts of it. Will he that has a while considered the composition of the world; the exact and orderly motions of the Sun, Moon, and Stars; the fabric of his own body, and the powers of his soul, expect yet a wonder to prove to him there is a God?

But if that be the complexion of your minds, that it is not the greatness of any work, but the novelty and surprisingness of it, that will convince you; it is not rational evidence you seek. Nor is it your reason, but your idle curiosity you would have gratified; which deserves no more satisfaction than that fond wish, that one might come from the dead to warn men on earth lest they should come into the place of torment.

And if such means as these that have been mentioned should be thought necessary, I would ask, are they necessary to every individual person? So as that no man shall be esteemed to have had sufficient means of conviction who has not with his own eyes beheld some such glorious apparition; or himself heard some such terrible voice, or been the immediate witness or subject of some prodigious wonderful work? Indeed, or will that once seeing, hearing, or feeling them suffice? Is it not necessary there should be a frequent repetition and renewal of these amazing things, lest the impression wearing off, there be a relapse, and a gradual sliding into an oblivion and unapprehensiveness of that Being's existence, of which they had sometime received a conviction. Now if such a continual iteration of these strange things were thought necessary, would they not thereby soon cease to be strange? And then if their strangeness was necessary, by that very thing wherein their sufficiency for conviction is said to consist, they should become useless. Or, if by their frequent variations (which it is possible to suppose) a perpetual amusement be still kept up in the minds of men: and they be always full of consternation and wonder. Does this temper so much befriend the exercise of reason? Or contribute to the sober consideration of things? As if men could not be rational without being half mad. And, indeed, they might soon become altogether so, by being, but a while, beset with objects so full of terror, as are, by this supposition, made the necessary means to convince them of a Deity. And were this a fit means of ruling the world, of preserving order among mankind? What business could then be followed? Who could intend the affairs of their callings? Who could either be capable of governing, or of being governed while all men's minds should be wholly taken up either in the amazed view or the suspenseful expectation of nothing else but strange things? To which purpose much has been of late, with so excellent reason, discoursed by a worthy author, that it is needless here to say more. And the aspect and influence of this state of things would be most pernicious upon religion, that should be most served thereby. And which requires the greatest severity and most peaceful composure of mind to the due managing the exercises of it. How little would that contribute to pious and devout conversation with God, that should certainly keep men's minds in a continual commotion and hurry? This course, as our present condition is, what could it do but craze men's understandings, as a too bright and dazzling light causes blindness, or any over-excelling sensible object destroys the sense; so that we should soon have cause to apply the Arabian proverb, Shut the windows that the house may be light. And might learn to put a sense, not intolerable, upon those passages of some mystical writers that God is to be seen in a divine cloud or darkness, as one says; and with closed eyes, as another speaks (though what was their very sense I will not pretend to tell.)

Besides that, by this means, there would naturally ensue the continual excitation of so vexatious and enthralling passions, so servile and tormenting fears and amazements; as could not but hold the souls of men under a constant and comfortless restraint, from any free and ingenuous access to God, or conversation with him. Wherein the very life of religion consists. And then to what purpose does the discovery and acknowledgment of the Deity serve? Inasmuch as it is never to be thought that the existence of God is a thing to be known only that it may be known. But that the end it serves for is religion. A complacent and cheerful adoration of him and application of ourselves with at once both dutiful and pleasant affections towards him. That were a strange means of coming to know that he is, that should only tend to destroy or hinder the very end itself of that knowledge.

Therefore all this being considered, it is likely it would not be insisted upon as necessary to our being persuaded of God's existence, that he should so multiply strange and astonishing things, as that every man might be a daily amazed beholder and witness of them.

And if their frequency, and constant iteration be acknowledged not necessary, but shall indeed be judged wholly inconvenient, more rare discoveries of him in the very ways we have been speaking of have not been wanting. What would we think of such an appearance of God as that was upon Mount Sinai? When he came down (or caused a sensible glory to descend) in the sight of all that great people! Wherein the several things concurred that were above-mentioned! Let us but suppose such an appearance in all the concurrent circumstances of it as that is said to have been. That is, we will suppose an equally great assembly or multitude of people is gathered together, and a solemn forewarning is given and proclaimed among them by appointed heralds or officers of state, that, on such a prefixed day, now very near at hand, the divine majesty and glory (even his glory set in majesty) will visibly appear and show itself to them. They are most severely enjoined to prepare themselves and be in readiness against that day. Great care is taken to sanctify the people, and the place, bounds are set about the designed theater of this great appearance. All are strictly required to observe their due and awful distances, and abstain from more audacious approaches and gazings; lest that terrible glory break out upon them and they perish. An irreverent or disrespectful look, they are told, will be mortal to them, or a very touch of any part of this sacred enclosure. In the morning of the appointed day, there are thunders and lightnings, and a thick cloud upon the hallowed mount. The exceeding loud sound of trumpet proclaims the Lord's descent. He descends in fire, the flames of which envelop the trembling mount (now floored with a sapphire pavement clear as the body of heaven.) And ascend into the middle region or (as it is expressed) into the midst or heart of the heavens. The voice of words (a loud and dreadful voice) audible to all that mighty assembly, in which were 600,000 men (probably more than a million of persons) issues forth from amidst that terrible glory pronouncing to them, that I am Jehovah your God — and proceeding to give them precepts, so plain and clear, so comprehensive and full, so unexceptionably just and righteous, so agreeable to the nature of man, and subservient to his good; that nothing could be more worthy the great Creator, or more aptly suitable to such a sort of creatures.

It is very likely, indeed, that such a demonstration would leave no spectator in doubt concerning the existence of God; and would puzzle the philosophy of the most skeptical atheist to give an account, otherwise, of the phenomenon. And if such could devise to say anything that should seem plausible to some very easy half-witted persons that were not present, they would have a hard task of it to quiet the minds of those that were; or make them believe this was nothing else but some odd conjuncture of certain fiery atoms, that by some strange accident happened into this occurrence and conflict with one another; or some illusion of fancy, by which so great a multitude were all at once imposed upon. So as that they only seemed to themselves to hear and see what they heard and saw not. Nor is it likely they would be very confident of the truth of their own conjecture, or be apt to venture much upon it themselves, having been the eye and ear-witnesses of these things.

But is it necessary this course shall be taken to make the world know there is a God? Such an appearance indeed would more powerfully strike sense; but to sober and considerate reason were it a greater thing than the making such a world as this? And the disposing this great variety of particular beings in it, into so exact and elegant an order? And the sustaining and preserving it in the same state through so many ages? Let the vast and unknown extent of the whole, the admirable variety, the elegant shapes, the regular motions, the excellent faculties and powers of that inconceivable number of creatures contained in it, be considered. And is there any comparison between that temporary transient occasional, and this steady permanent and universal discovery of God? Nor (supposing the truth of the history) can it be thought the design of this appearance to these Hebrews was to convince them of the existence of a deity to be worshipped; when both they had so convincing evidence of it many ways before; and the other nations, that, which they left, and those where they went, were not without their religion and worship, such as it was. But to engage them by so majestic a representation of it, to a more exact observance of his will, now made known. Though, had there been any doubt of the former (as we can hardly suppose they could, before, have more doubted of the being of a God, than that there were men on earth) this might collaterally and besides its chief intention, be a means to confirm them concerning that also: But that it was necessary for that end, we have no pretense to imagine. The like may be said concerning other miracles previously wrought, that the intent of them was to justify the divine authority of him who wrought them, to prove him sent by God, and so countenance the doctrine or message delivered by him. Not that they tended (otherwise than on the by) to prove God's existence. Much less was this so amazing an appearance needful or intended for that end, and least of all was it necessary, that this should be God's ordinary way of making it known to men that he does exist: So as that for this purpose he should often repeat so terrible representations of himself. And how inconvenient it were to mortal men, as well as unnecessary, the astonishment wherewith it possessed that people is an evidence. And their passionate frightened wish upon that, Let not God any more speak to us, lest we die. They apprehended it impossible for them to outlive such another sight!

And if so amazing an appearance of the Divine Majesty (sometime afforded) were not necessary, but some way, on the by, useful for the confirming that people in the persuasion of God's existence, why may it not be useful also for the same purpose even now to us? Is it that we think that can be less true now which was so gloriously evident to be true four thousand years ago? Or is it that we can disbelieve or doubt the truth of the history? What should be the ground or pretence of doubt? If it were a fiction, it is manifest it was feigned by some person that had the use of his understanding, and was not besides himself, as the coherence and contexture of parts does plainly show. But would any man not besides himself, designing to gain credit to a forged report of a matter of fact ever say there were 600000 persons present at the doing of it? Would it not rather have been pretended done in a corner? Or is it imaginable it should never have met with contradiction? That none of the pretended by-standers should disclaim the avouchment of it? and say they knew of no such matter? Especially if it be considered that the laws said to be given at that time; chiefly those which were reported to have been written in the two Tables, were not so favorable to vicious inclinations, nor that people so strict and scrupulous observers of them. But that they would have been glad to have had anything to pretend against the authority of the legislature, if the case could have admitted it. When they discovered, in that, and succeeding time, so violently prone, and unretractable a propension to idolatry and other wickednesses directly against the very letter of that law. How welcome and covetable a plea had it been, in their frequent and sometimes almost universal apostasies, could they have had such a thing to pretend that the law itself that curbed them was a cheat. But we always find, that though they labored, in some of their degeneracies, and when they were lapsed into a more corrupted state, to render it more easy to themselves by favorable glosses and interpretations. Yet, even in the most corrupt, they never went about to deny or implead its Divine original; whereof they were ever so religious asserters as no people under heaven could be more. And the awful apprehension whereof prevailed so far with them, as that care was taken (as is notoriously known) by those appointed to that charge that the very letters should be numbered of the sacred writings, lest there should happen any the minutest alteration in them. Much more might be said if it were needful for the evincing the truth of this particular piece of history; and it is little to be doubted but any man who with sober and impartial reason considers the circumstances relating to it, the easily evidenceable antiquity of the records whereof this is a part. The certain nearness of the time of writing them to the time when this thing is said to have been done, the great reputation of the writer even among pagans, the great multitude of the alleged witnesses and spectacles, the no-contradiction ever heard of. The universal consent and suffrage of that nation through all times to this day, even when their practice has been most contrary to the laws then given; the securely confident and unsuspicious reference of later pieces of sacred Scripture thereto (even some parts of the New Testament) as a most known and undoubted thing. The long series and tract of time through which that people are said to have had extraordinary and sensible indications of the Divine presence, (which if it had been false could not in so long a time but have been evicted of falsehood.) Their miraculous and wonderful eduction out of Egypt not denied by any, and more obscurely acknowledged by some heathen writers, their conduct through the wilderness, and settlement in Canaan; their constitution and form of polity known for many ages to have been a theocracy; their usual ways of consulting God upon all more important occasions. Whoever I say shall soberly consider these things (and many more might easily occur to such as would think fit to let their thoughts dwell a while upon this subject) will, not only, from some of them think it highly improbable, but, from others of them, plainly impossible that the history of this appearance should have been a contrived piece of falsehood. Indeed, and though as was said, the view of such a thing with one's own eyes would make a more powerful impression upon our fancy or imagination, yet if we speak of rational evidence (which is quite another thing) of the truth of a matter of fact that were of this astonishing nature, I should think it were much (at least if I were credibly told that so many hundred thousand persons saw it at once, as if I had been the single unaccompanied spectator of it myself. Not to say that it were apparently in some respect much greater; could we but obtain of ourselves to distinguish between the pleasing of our curiosity and the satisfying of our reason.

So that, upon the whole, I see not why it may not be concluded, with the greatest confidence, that both the (supposed) existence of a Deity is possible to be certainly known to men on earth, in some way that is suitable to their present state, that there are no means fitter to be ordinary than those we already have, and that more extraordinary additional confirmations are partly therefore not necessary, and partly not wanting.

Again it may be further demanded (as that which may both immediately serve our main purpose, and may also show the reasonableness of what was last said.) Is it sufficiently evident to such subjects of some great prince as live remote from the Royal Residence that there is such a one now ruling over them?

To say no, is to raze the foundation of civil government, and reduce it wholly to domestic, by such a ruler as may ever be in present view. Which yet is, upon such terms, never possible to be preserved also. It is plain many do firmly enough believe that there is a king reigning over them; who not only never saw the king, but never saw the splendor of his court, the pomp of his attendance, or it may be, never saw the man that had seen the king? And is not all dutiful and loyal obedience accustomed to be challenged, and paid by such as well as his other subjects? Or would it be thought a reasonable excuse of disloyalty, that any such persons should say they had never seen the king or his court? Or a reasonable demand, as the condition of required subjection, that the court be kept sometime in their village, that they might have the opportunity of beholding at least some of the insignia of royalty, or more splendid appearances of that majesty which claims subjection from them? Much more would it be deemed unreasonable and insolent, that every subject should expect to see the face of the prince every day, otherwise they will not obey nor believe there is any such person. Whereas it has been judged rather more expedient and serviceable to the continuing the veneration of majesty (and in a monarchy of no mean reputation for wisdom and greatness) that the prince did very rarely offer himself to the view of the people. Surely more ordinary and remote discoveries of an existing prince and ruler over them (the effects of his power, and the influences of his government) will be reckoned sufficient even as to many parts of his dominions, that, possibly through many succeeding generations never had other. And yet how unspeakably less sensible, less immediate, less constant, less necessary, less numerous are the effects and instances of regal human power, and wisdom than of the Divine; which latter we behold whichever way we look, and feel in everything we touch or have any sense of, and may reflect upon in our very senses themselves, and in all the parts and powers that belong to us. And so certainly that if we would allow ourselves the liberty of serious thoughts, we might soon find it were utterly impossible such effects should ever have been without that only cause. That without its influence, it had never been possible, that we could hear, or see, or speak, or think, or live, or be anything, nor that any other thing could ever have been, when as the effects that serve so justly to endear and recommend to us civil government (as peace, safety, order, quiet possession of our rights) we cannot but know are not inseparably and exclusively appropriate or to be attributed to the person of this or that particular and mortal governor; but may also proceed from another: indeed and the same benefits may (for some short time at least) be continued without any such government at all. Nor is this intended merely as a rhetorical scheme of speech to beguile or amuse the unwary reader: but, without arrogating anything, or attributing more to it, than that it is an (altogether inartificial and very defective, but) true and naked representation of the very case itself as it is. It is professedly put forward as having something solidly argumentative in it. That is that, (whereas there is most confessedly sufficient yet) there is unspeakably less evidence to most people in the world under civil government; that there actually is such a government existent over them; and that they are under obligation to be subject to it; than there is of the existence of a Deity, and the (consequent) reasonableness of religion. If therefore the ordinary effects and indications of the former, be sufficient, which have so contingent and uncertain a connection with their causes (while those which are more extraordinary are so exceeding rare with the most) why shall not the more certain ordinary discoveries of the latter be judged sufficient, though the most have not the immediate notice of any such extraordinary appearances as those are which have been before mentioned?

Moreover, I yet demand further, whether it may be thought possible for any one to have a full rational certainty that another person is a reasonable creature, and has in him a rational soul, so as to judge he has sufficient ground and obligation to converse with him, and carry towards him as a man? Without the supposition of this, the foundation of all human society and civil conversation is taken away. And what evidence have we of it, to which that which we have of the being of God (as the foundation of religious and godly conversation) will not at least be found equivalent?

Will we say that mere human shape is enough to prove such a one a man? A philosopher would deride us, as the Stagirite's disciples are said to have done the Platonic man. But we will not be so nice. We acknowledge it is, if no circumstances concur (as sudden appearing, vanishing, transformation or the like) that plainly evince the contrary; so far as to infer upon us an obligation, not to be rude, and uncivil; that we use no violence, or carry ourselves abusively towards one, that, only thus, appears a human creature. Indeed, and to perform any duty of justice or charity towards him within our power, which we owe to a man as a man. As suppose we see him wronged, or in necessity, and can presently right, or relieve him; though he does not, or cannot represent to us more of his case, than our own eyes inform us of. And should an act of murder be committed upon one whose true humanity was not otherwise evident, would he not be justly liable to the known and common punishment of that offense? Nor could he acquit himself of transgressing the laws of humanity, if he should only neglect any seasonable act of justice or mercy towards him, of which he beholds the present occasion.

But if any one were disposed to cavil or play the sophist; how much more might be said, even by infinite degrees, to oppose this single evidence of anyone's true humanity; than ever was, or can be brought against the entire concurrent evidence we have of the existence of God. It is, here, most manifestly just and equal thus to state the case, and compare the whole evidence we have of the latter, with that one of the former; inasmuch as that one alone, is apparently enough to oblige us to carry towards such a one as a man. And if that alone be sufficient to oblige us to acts of justice or charity towards man, he is strangely blind that cannot see infinitely more to oblige him to acts of piety towards God.

But if we would take a nearer and more strict view of this parallel, we would state the general and more obvious aspect of this world, on the one hand, and the external aspect and shape of a man on the other; and should then see the former does evidence to us an in-dwelling Deity, diffused through the whole, and actuating every part, with incomparably greater certainty, than the latter does an in-dwelling reasonable soul. In which way we shall find, what will aptly serve our present purpose, though we are far from apprehending any such union of the blessed God with this world, as is between the soul and body of a man. It is manifestly possible, to our understandings, that there may be, and (if any history or testimony of others be worthy to be believed) certain to experience and sense, that there, often, has been, the appearance of human shape, and of agreeable actions, without a real man. But it is no way possible such a world as this should have ever been without God. That there is a world, proves that eternal Being to exist whom we take to be God; suppose we it as rude a heap as at first it was, or as we can suppose it; as external appearance represents to us that creature which we take to be a man; but that, as a certain infallible discovery, necessarily true. This, but as a probable and conjectural one, and (though highly probable) not impossible to be false.

And if we will yet descend to a more particular inquiry into this matter, which way will we fully be assured that this supposed man is truly and really what he seems to be. This we know not how to go about without recollecting, what is the differencing notion we have of a man — that he is (namely) a reasonable living creature, or a reasonable soul inhabiting, and united with a body. And how do we think to discern that, here, which may answer this common notion we have of a man? Have we any way, besides that discovery, which the acts and effects of reason do make of a rational or intelligent Being? We will look more narrowly, that is, to somewhat else than his external appearance: and observe the actions that proceed from a more distinguishing principle in him; that he reasons, discourses, does business, pursues designs; in short he talks and acts as a reasonable creature. And hence we conclude him to be one, or to have a reasonable soul in him.

And have we not the same way of procedure in the other case. Our first view, or taking notice of a world, full of life and motion, assures us of an eternal active Being, besides it; which we take to be God, having now before our eyes a darker shadow of him; only, as the external bulk of the human body is only the shadow of a man. Which, when we behold it stirring and moving, assures us there is somewhat besides that grosser bulk (that of itself could not so move) which we take to be the soul of a man. Yet as a principle that can move the body makes not up the entire notion of this soul; so an eternal active Being, that moves the matter of the universe, makes not up the full notion of God. We are thus far sure in both cases, that is, of some mover distinct from what is moved. But we are not yet sure (by what we hitherto see) what the one or the other is. But as, when we have, upon the first sight, thought it was a reasonable soul that was acting in the former: or a man (if we will speak according to their sense, who make the soul the man) in order to being sure (as sure as the case can admit) we have no other way, but to consider what belongs, more distinguishingly, to the notion of a man, or of a reasonable soul; and observe how actions and effects, which we have opportunity to take notice of, do answer thereto, or serve to discover that. So when we would be sure, what that eternal active Being is (which that it is we are already sure, and) which we have taken to be God, that I say we may be sure of that also, we have the same thing to do.

That is to consider what more peculiarly belongs to the entire notion of God (and would even in the judgment of opposers be acknowledged to belong to it) and see whether his works more narrowly inspected do not bear as manifest correspondence to that notion of God, as the works and actions of a man do to the notion we have of him. And certainly, we cannot but find they do correspond as much. And that upon a serious and considerate view of the works and appearances of God in the world, having diligently observed, and pondered the vastness and beauty of this universe, the variety, the multitude, the order, the exquisite shapes, the numerous parts, the admirable and useful composure of particular creatures; and, especially, the constitution and powers of the reasonable soul of man itself, we cannot, surely, if we be not under the possession of a very voluntary and obstinate blindness, and the power of a most vicious prejudice, but acknowledge the making sustaining and governing such a world is as God-like, as worthy of God, and as much becoming him, according to the notion that has been assigned of him, as at least, the common actions of ordinary men are of a man; or evidence the doer of them to be a human creature. Indeed, and with this advantageous difference, that the actions of a man do evidence a human creature more uncertainly, and so as it is possible the matter may be otherwise: but these works of God do with so plain and demonstrative evidence discover him the Author of them, that it is altogether impossible they could ever otherwise have been done.

Now, therefore, if we have as clear evidence of a Deity as we can have in a way not unsuitable to the nature and present state of man, and we can have in a suitable way that which is sufficient.

If we have clear and more certain evidence of God's government over the world, than most men have or can have of the existence of their secular rulers; indeed, more sure than that there are men on earth, and that from there (as far as the existence of God will make towards it) there is a less disputable ground for religious than for civil conversation, we may reckon ourselves competently well assured, and have no longer reason to delay the dedication of a temple to him upon any pretense of doubt, whether we have an object of worship existing yes or no.

Therefore we may also by the way take notice how impudent a thing is Atheism, that by the same foul and poisonous breath, whereby it would blast religion, would despoil man of his reason and apprehensive power, even in reference to the most apprehensive thing, would blow away the rights of princes and all foundations of policy and government, and destroy all civil commerce and conversation out of the world, and yet blushes not at the attempt of so foul things.

And here it may perhaps prove worth our while (though it can be no pleasant contemplation) to pause a little, and make some short reflections upon the atheistical temper and genius, so as to remark some few more obvious characters of Atheism itself.

And first such, as have not been themselves seized by the infatuation, cannot but judge it a most unreasonable thing, a perverse and cross-grained humor, that so oddly writhes and warps the mind of a man, as that it never makes any effort, or offer at any thing against the Deity, but it therein does (by a certain sort of serpentine involution and retortion) seem to design a quarrel with itself: That is, with (what one would think should be most intimate and natural to the mind of man) his very reasoning power, and the operations thereof. So near indeed was the ancient alliance between God and man (his own Son, his likeness, and living image) and consequently between reason and religion; that no man can ever be engaged in an opposition to God and his interest, but he must be equally so to himself and his own. And any one that takes notice how the business is carried by an Atheist, must think in order to his becoming one, his first plot was upon himself. To assassinate his own intellectual faculty by a sturdy resolution, and violent imposing on himself not to consider, or use his thoughts, at least with any indifference, but with a treacherous pre-determination to the part resolved on beforehand. Otherwise it is hard to be imagined, how it should ever have been possible, that so plain and evident proofs of a Deity, as every where offer themselves to observation; even such as have been here proposed (that do even lie open for the most part to common apprehension, and needed little search to find them out; so that it was harder to determine what not to say than what to say) could be overlooked.

For what could be more easy and obvious, than, taking notice, that there is somewhat in being, to conclude that somewhat must be of itself, from where, whatever is not so, must have sprung. That since there is somewhat effected or made (as is plain, in that some things are alterable, and daily altered which nothing can be that is of itself, and therefore a necessary being.) those effects have then had an active being for their cause. That since these effects are, partly, such as bear the manifest characters of wisdom and design upon them; and are partly, themselves, wise and designing; therefore they must have had a wisely active and designing cause. So much would plainly conclude the sum of what we have been pleading for; and what can be plainer or does require a shorter turn of thoughts? At this easy expense might any one that had a disposition to use his understanding to such a purpose, save himself from being an Atheist. And where is the flaw? What joint is not firm and strong in this little frame of discourse? Which, yet, arrogates nothing to the contriver; for there is nothing in it worthy to be called contrivance: but things do themselves lie thus. And what has been further said concerning the perfection and oneness of this cause of all things (though somewhat more remote from common apprehension) is what is likely would appear plain and natural to such as would allow themselves the leisure to look more narrowly into such things.

Atheism, therefore, seems to import a direct and open hostility, against the most native, genuine, and facile dictates of common reason.

And being so manifest an enemy to it, we cannot suppose it should be at all befriended by it. For that will be always true and constant to itself. Whatever false shows of it a bad cause does sometimes put on. That having yet somewhat a more creditable name, and being of a little more reputation in the world, than plain downright madness and folly. And it will appear how little it is befriended, by any thing that can justly bear that name; if we consider the pitiful shifts the Atheist makes for his forlorn cause: and what infirm tottering supports, the whole frame of Atheism rests upon. For what is there to be said for their hypothesis, or against the existence of God, and the duty of religion?

For there's directly nothing at all. Only a possibility is alleged, things might be as they are, though God did not exist. And if this were barely possible, how little does that signify? Where reason is not injuriously dealt with, it is permitted the liberty of balancing things equally, and of considering which scale has most weight. And is he not perfectly blind, that sees not what violence is done to free reason in this matter? Are there not thousands of things, not altogether impossible, which yet he would be concluded altogether out of his wits that should profess to be of the opinion they are or were actually so? And as to the present case, how facile and unexceptionable, how plain and intelligible is the account that is given of the original of this world, and the things contained in it, by resolving all into a Deity, the author and maker of them? When as the wild, extravagant suppositions of Atheists, if they were admitted possible, are the most unlikely that could be devised. So that, if there had been any to have laid wagers, when things were taking their beginning; there is no body that would not have ventured thousands to one that no such frame of things (no not so much as one single mouse or flea) would ever have hit. And how desperate hazards the Atheist runs upon this mere supposed possibility, it will be more in our way to take notice by and by.

But besides; that pretended possibility plainly appears none at all. It is impossible any thing should spring up of itself out of nothing. That any thing that is alterable should have been necessarily of itself, such as it now is. That what is of itself inactive should be the maker of other things. That the author of all the wisdom in the world should be himself unwise. These cannot but be judged most absolute impossibilities to such as do not violence to their own minds; or with whom reason can be allowed any the least exercise. Therefore the atheistical spirit is most grossly unreasonable in withholding assent, where the most ungainsayable reason plainly exacts it.

And are not the atheists' cavils as despicably silly against the Deity, and (consequently) religion? Whoever shall consider their exceptions against some things in the notion of God, eternity, infinity, etc., which themselves in the meantime are forced to place elsewhere, will he not see they talk idly? And as for such other impeachments of his wisdom, justice, and goodness, as they take their ground for from the state of affairs, in some respects, in this present world (many of which may be seen in Lucretius, and answered by Doctor More in his Dialogues): how inconsiderable will they be, to any one that bethinks himself with how perfect and generous a liberty this world was made, by one that needed it not; who had no design, nor could have inclination, to a fond self-indulgent glorying, and vaunting of his own work; who did it with the greatest facility, and by an easy inexpensive granting of his good pleasure; not with a laborious curiosity, studious to approve itself to the contrary eye of every froward Momus, or to the nauseous squeamish gust of every sensual Epicure. And to such as shall not confine their mean thoughts to that very clod or ball of earth on which they live. Which, as it is a very small part, may, for anything we know, but be the worst or most abject part of God's creation, which yet is full of his goodness, and has most manifest prints of his other excellencies besides; as has been observed. Or, that shall not look upon the present state of things as the eternal state, but upon this world only as an antechamber to another, which shall abide in most unexceptionable perfection for ever.

How fond and idle, I say, will all such cavils appear to one that shall but thus use his thoughts, and not think himself bound to measure his conceptions of God, by the uncertain rash dictates of men born in the dark, and that talk at random: nor shall affix anything to him which plain reason does not dictate, or which he does not manifestly assume or challenge to himself. But that because a straw lies in my way, I would attempt to overturn heaven and earth, what raging frenzy is this?

Again it is a base abject temper, speaks a mind sunk and lost in carnality, and that having dethroned and abjured reason, has abandoned itself to the hurry of vile appetite, and sold its liberty, and sovereignty, for the insipid tasteless pleasures of sense: an unmanly thing. A degrading of one's self. For if there be no God, what am I? A piece of moving thinking clay, whose ill compacted parts will shortly fly asunder, and leave no other remains of me, than what shall become the prey and the triumph of worms!

'Tis a sad, mopish, disconsolate temper, cuts off, and quite banishes all manly rational joy. All that might spring from the contemplation of the divine excellencies and glory, shining in the works of his hands. Atheism clothes the world in black, draws a dark and duskish cloud over all things. It does more to damp and stifle all relishes of intellectual pleasure, than it would of sensible, to extinguish the Sun. What is this world (if we should suppose it still to subsist) without God? How grateful an entertainment is it to a pious mind to behold his glory stamped on every creature sparkling in every providence; and by a firm and rational faith to believe (when we cannot see) how all events are conspiring to bring about the most happy and blissful state of things! The Atheist may make the most of this world; he knows no pleasure, but what can be drawn out of its dry breasts, or found in its cold embraces: which yields as little satisfaction, as he finds whose arms aiming to enclose a dear friend do only clasp a stiff and clammy carcass. How uncomfortable a thing is it to him, that having neither power nor wit to order things to his own advantage or content, but finds himself liable to continual disappointments, and the encounter of many an unsuspected cross accident, has none to repose on that is wiser and mightier than himself? But when he finds he cannot command his own affairs, to have the settled apprehension of an Almighty Ruler that can with the greatest certainty do it for us, the best way; and will, if we trust him: how satisfying and peaceful a repose does this yield! And how much the rather, inasmuch as that filial unsuspicious confidence and trust, which naturally tends to and begets that calm and quiet rest, is the very condition required on my part; and that the chief thing I have to do, to have my affairs brought to a good pass, is to commit them to his management. And my only care to be careful in nothing. The Atheist has nothing to mitigate the greatness of this loss, but that he knows not what he loses, which is an allay that will serve but a little while. And when the most unsupportable pressing miseries befall him, he must in bitter agonies groan out his wretched soul, without hope; and sooner die under his burden, than say, Where is God my Maker? At the best, he exchanges all the pleasure, and composure of mind, which certainly accompanies a dutiful son-like trust, submission and resignation of ourselves, and all our concerns, to the disposal of fatherly wisdom and love, for a sour and sullen succumbency to an irresistible fate, or hard necessity, against which he sees it's vain to contend. So that at the best he only not rages, but tastes nothing of consolation; of which his spirit is as incapable, as his desperate affairs are of redress. And if he has arrived to that measure of fortitude, as not to be much discomposed with the lighter crosses which he meets with in this short time of life, what a dreadful cross is it that he must die! How dismal a thing is a certain never to be avoided death! Against which as Atheism has not, surely, the advantage of religion in giving protection: so it has greatly the disadvantage, in affording no relief. What would the joy be worth in that hour, that arises from the hope of the glory to be revealed? And is the want of that the total sum of the Atheist's misery at this hour? What heart can conceive the horror of that one thought if darted in upon him at that time (as 'tis strange, and more sad, if it be not) what becomes now of me, if there prove to be a God! Where are my mighty demonstrations upon which one may venture? and which may cut off all fear and danger of future calamity in this dark unknown state I am going into? Shall I be the next hour nothing or miserable? Or, if I had opportunity, shall I not have sufficient cause to proclaim (as once one of the same fraternity did, by way of warning, to a surviving companion) — A Great and a Terrible God! a Great and a Terrible God! A Great and a Terrible God!

I only add, 'tis a most strangely mysterious and unaccountable temper. Such as is hardly reducible to its proper causes. So that it would puzzle any man's inquiry to find out, or even give but probable conjectures how so odd and preternatural a disaffection as Atheism should ever come to have place in a human mind.

It must be concluded a very complicated disease, and yet when our thoughts have fastened upon several things that have an aspect that way as none of them alone could infer it, so it is hard to imagine, how all of them, together, should ever come to deprave reasonable nature to such a degree.

'Tis, first, most astonishingly marvelous (though it's apparent this distemper has its rise from an ill will) that any man should so much as will, that which the Atheist has obtained of himself to believe, or affect to be what he is.

The commonness of this vile disposition of will, does but sorrily shift off the wonder, and only with those slight and trifling minds that have resigned the office of judging things to their (more active) senses, and have learned the easy way of waving all inquiries about common things, or resolving the account into this only, that they are to be seen every day. But if we allowed ourselves to consider this matter soberly, we would soon find that however it most plainly appears a very common plague upon the spirits of men (and universal till a cure be wrought) to say by way of wish, No God, or I would there were none: yet by the good leave of them who would thus easily excuse the thing, the commonness of this horrid evil does so little diminish, that it increases the wonder. Things are more strange as their causes are more hardly assignable. What should the reason be, that a Being of so incomparable excellency, so amiable and alluring glory, purity, love, and goodness is become undesirable and hateful to his own creatures! That such creatures, his more immediate peculiar offspring, stamped with his likeness, the so vivid resemblances of his own spiritual immortal nature, are become so wickedly unnatural towards their common and most indulgent Parent! What, to wish him dead! to envy life and being, to him from whom they have received their own! 'Tis strange as it is without a cause. But they have offended him, are in a revolt, and sharply conscious of fearful demerits. And who would not wish to live? and to escape so unsupportable revenge? 'Tis still strange we would ever offend such a one! Wherein were his laws unequal? his government grievous? But since we have; this only is pertinent to be said by them that have no hope of forgiveness, that are left to despair of reconciliation, why do we sort ourselves with Devils? We profess not to be such.

Indeed, but we have no hope to be forgiven the sin we do not leave, nor power to leave the sin which now we love. This, instead of lessening, makes the wonder a miracle! O wretched forlorn creature! would you have God out of being for this? (I speak to you who do not yet profess to believe there is no God, but do only wish it.) The sustainer of the world! The common basis of all being! do you know what you say? Are you not wishing yourself and all things into nothing? This, rather than humble yourself, and beg forgiveness? This! rather than become, again, a holy, pure, obedient creature, and again, blessed in him who first made you so!

It can never cease, I say, to be a wonder, we never ought to cease wondering that ever this befell the nature of man, to be prone to wish such a thing that there were no God!

But this is, 'tis true, the too common case; and if we will only have what is more a rarity go for a wonder; how amazing then is it, that if any man would even never so willingly; he ever can make himself believe there is no God! and shape his horrid course according to that most horrid misbelief! By what fatal train of causes is this ever brought to pass! Into what can we devise to resolve it?

Why, such as have arrived to this pitch are much addicted to the pleasing of their senses; and this they make their business; so as that, for a long time they have given themselves no leisure to mind objects of another nature; especially that should any way tend to disturb them in their easy course: till they are (gradually) fallen into a forgetful sleep, and the images of things are worn out with them; that had only more slightly touched their minds before. And being much used to go by the suggestions of sense, they believe not what they neither see nor feel.

This is somewhat, but does not reach the mark; for there are many very great sensualists (as great as they at least) who never arrive here, but firmly avow it that they believe a Deity, whatever mistaken notion they have of him; whereupon they imagine to themselves impunity in their vicious course.

But these, it may be said, have so disaccustomed themselves to the exercise of their reason, that they have no disposition to use their thoughts about anything above the sphere of sense; and have contracted so dull and sluggish a temper, that they are no fitter to mind or employ themselves in any speculations that tend to beget in them the knowledge of God, than any man is for discourse or business when he is fast asleep.

So indeed in reason one would expect to find it, but the case is so much otherwise, when we consider particular instances, that we are the more perplexed and entangled in this inquiry, by considering how agreeable it is that the matter should be thus, and observing that it proves oftentimes not to be so: insomuch that reason and experience seem herein, not to agree, and hence we are put again upon new conjectures what the immediate cause of this strange malady should be.

For did it proceed purely from a sluggish temper of mind, unapt to reasoning and discourse; the more any were so, the more disposed they should be to Atheism; whereas, every one knows that multitudes of persons of dull and slow minds to anything of argumentation would rather you should burn their houses, than tell them they did not believe in God; and would presently tell you, it were a pity he should live, that should but intimate a doubt whether there were a God or no. Indeed, and many, somewhat more intelligent, yet in this matter, are shy of using their reason, and think it unsafe, if not profane, to go about to prove, that there is a God, lest they should move a doubt, or seem hereby to make a question of it. And, in the mean time, while they offer not at reasoning, they, more meanly, supply that want, after a sorry fashion, from their education, the tradition of their forefathers' common example, and the universal profession and practice of some religion, round about them; and it may be only take the matter for granted, because they never heard such a thing was ever doubted of, or called in question in all their lives.

Whereas, on the other hand, they who incline to Atheism are, perhaps, some of them the greatest pretenders to reason. They rely little upon authority of former times and ages, upon vulgar principles and maxims, but are [reconstructed: vaunted] great masters of reason, diligent searchers into the mysteries of nature, and can philosophize (as sufficiently appears) beyond all imagination. But it is hoped it may be truly said for the vindication of philosophy, and them that profess it, that modern atheists have little of that to glory in, and that their chief endowments are only their skill to please their senses, and a faculty with a pitiful sort of drollery to tincture their cups, and add a grace to their (otherwise) dull and flat conversation.

Yet all this however being considered, there is here but little advance made to the finding out from where Atheism should proceed: for, that want of reason should be thought the cause, what has been already said seems to forbid. That many ignorant persons seem possessed with a great awe of a Deity from which various more knowing have delivered themselves. And yet neither does the former signify anything (in just interpretation) to the disrepute of religion. For truth is not the less true, for that some hold it they know not how or why. Nor does the latter make to the reputation of Atheism, inasmuch as men otherwise rational may sometimes learnedly dote. But it confirms us that Atheism is a strange thing, when its extraction and pedigree are so hardly found out, and it seems to be directly of the lineage, neither of knowledge nor ignorance, neither sound reason nor perfect dotage.

Nor does it at all urge to say, and why may we not as well stand wondering from where the apprehension of a God, and an addictedness to religion should come, when we find them peculiar, neither to the more knowing, nor the more ignorant. For they are apparently and congruously enough to be derived from somewhat common to them both. The impression of a Deity universally put upon the minds of all men (which atheists have made a shift to raze out or obliterate to that degree as to render it illegible) and that cultivated by the exercise of reason, in some, and in others, less capable of that help, somewhat confirmed by education and the other accessories mentioned above.

Therefore is this matter still most mysteriously intricate that there should be one temper and persuasion agreeing to two so vastly different sorts of persons, while yet we are to seek for a cause (except what is most tremendous to think of) from where it should proceed, that is common to them both. And here is in short the sum of the wonder, that any, not appearing very grossly unreasonable in other matters, (which cannot be denied even of some of the more sensual and lewder sort of atheists) should, in so plain and important a case, be so, beyond all expression, absurd. That they, without scruple, are pleased to think like other men, in matters that concern and relate to common practice, and wherein they might more colorably and with less hazard, go out of the common road. And are here only, so dangerously and madly extravagant. Theirs is therefore a particular madness, the Dementia quoad hoc. So much the stranger thing, because they whom it possesses, do only in this one case put off themselves, and are like themselves, and other men in all things else. If they reckoned it a glory to be singular they might (as has been plainly shown) more plausibly profess it as a principle, that they are not bound to believe the existence of any secular ruler (and consequently not be subject to any) longer than they see him, and so subvert all policy and government; or pretend an exemption from all obligation to any act of justice, or to forbear the most injurious violence towards any man, because they are not infallibly certain any one they see is a human person, and so abjure all morality as they already have so great a part; than offer with so fearful hazard to assault the Deity (of whose existence if they would but think a while, they might be most infallibly assured, or go about to subvert the foundations of religion. Or, if they would get themselves glory by great adventures, or show themselves brave men, by expressing a fearless contempt of divine power, and justice. This fortitude is not human. These are without the compass of its object. As inundations, earthquakes, etc. are said to be, to which, that any one should fearlessly expose himself, can bring no profit to others, nor therefore glory to him.

In all this harangue of discourse the design has not been to fix upon any true cause of Atheism, but to represent it a strange thing; and an atheist a prodigy, a monster among mankind. A dreadful spectacle, forsaken of the common aids afforded to other men, hung up in chains, to warn others; and let them see what a horrid creature, man may make himself by voluntary aversion from God that made him.

In the meantime they upon whom this dreadful plague is not fallen, may plainly see before them, the object of that worship which is implied by a temple, an existing Deity, a God to be worshipped.

To whom we shall yet see further reason to design, and consecrate a temple for that end (and even ourselves to become such) when we have considered (what comes next to be spoken of) his conversableness with men.