Chapter IX: Part 9

Such are the evidences of divine benevolence, drawn from a field at first view most unpromising. And yet, when we come to look beyond the surface, where do we find more decisive or more numerous indications of God's beneficence? They are not like many hasty generalizations, which superficial examination has often brought from natural phenomena in proof of this same truth, but which, although beautiful at first view, must be abandoned upon careful research. But these, though repulsive at first, gain solidity and beauty by examination. And they are the more interesting because they come from an unexpected quarter. Men have been accustomed to search among the drift piled up by water and ice, among dislocated and rent strata of rocks, among mountains overturned and fields made desolate by volcanic eruptions, for the mementoes of penal inflictions; but they have not imagined that divine benevolence might be seen among these disturbances and desolations; and that simply because they confined their views to the immediate effect of geological agencies, and did not enlarge their views to take in their connection with the great system of the universe. But now that we find the stamp of benevolence even here, we learn an instructive lesson. Every reflecting mind is aware that the doctrine of divine benevolence lies at the foundation of all natural and revealed religion, and that until this be established we labor in vain to erect a superstructure. It is well known, also, that the existence of natural and moral evil has been considered a strong objection to this great truth. Now, geology furnishes us with many examples, in which agencies, often fraught with terrific evils, are nevertheless eminently beneficial when the whole extent of their operation is taken into account. Why is it not a fair inference that, in all other cases where evils stand out prominently, they are only incidental results of some wide system of operations, of which our limited vision embraces only a part, but whose tendencies as a whole are eminently salutary, and whose incidental evils do, in fact, increase the salutary effects? If so, what reason have we to believe that, when the light of eternity shall clarify our mental eye, and enlarge our knowledge of the present system of the universe, we shall find all "partial evil to be universal good," and that our narrow views alone threw obscurity and difficulty over this subject in this life? O, if even here so many rays of divine love find their way into our narrow prison-house, what will be their brightness when they pour in upon us from the unveiled glories of the heavenly world!

LECTURE VII.

DIVINE BENEVOLENCE AS EXHIBITED IN A FALLEN WORLD.

The geological proofs of the divine benevolence considered in the last lecture present only a partial view of that glorious characteristic of Jehovah. I am tempted, therefore, to exhibit it in its more general aspect and broader relations. This will necessarily bring into view other important religious truths respecting man's fallen condition and character, and, as a consequence, the modified aspect of the divine goodness in such a world.

To those destitute of a revelation this world has, indeed, ever seemed an inextricable maze, an enigma too dark for human wisdom to solve. Nor have those favored with the Bible agreed in their modes of clearing up the mystery. Having endeavored to explain all by following out some leading and favorite idea, their theories have varied as these predominant conceptions differed. One, for instance, fixes his gaze so intently upon the divine benevolence that he is blind to every manifestation of Jehovah's sterner attributes. Another, deeply impressed with the story of man's original apostasy, sees only vindictive justice, and penal infliction, and disordered action, in all the movements of nature and the trials and sufferings of man. A third, captivated by the discoveries of modern geology, relative to the existence of suffering and death in the world before man's creation, and learning, moreover, from physiology, that death is a general law of all organized natures, vegetable as well as animal, is led to doubt whether the disorders of the world have any important connection with man's apostasy.

Now, it were easy to show that our views on these subjects have a most important bearing upon our entire system of theology; and, therefore, they deserve our most thorough and candid examination. To such an examination I now invite your serious attention.

It is not my object to appeal to the Scriptures to prove the divine benevolence. That were an easy task. So, were this an unfallen world, every object and event would be redolent of God's goodness. But where sin and death abound, that goodness must assume a different aspect, since its unmixed manifestation would work mischief. Now, the point aimed at in this lecture is to ascertain whether natural religion can point out decisive evidence of divine benevolence. We can conceive it quite possible that in a fallen world God might find it necessary so to mingle displays of justice with those of goodness, that man might be in doubt which predominated.

There is another reason for considering this subject apart from scriptural evidence. We need to establish the doctrine of divine benevolence as a basis on which to rest the evidences of inspiration; or, rather, we want to be able to assume God's benevolence, in arguing for the truth of the Bible, and in judging of its contents. This doctrine, therefore, is one of the most important, as it is certainly the most difficult, in natural theology.

Obviously the first step in this investigation must be to ascertain what is the real state of this world, as a manifestation of the benevolence and justice of God. In other words, we need to ascertain what exhibitions of these attributes are presented to us in nature, and in the economy of Providence, and how much of the evil in the world is to be imputed to man's perversion of the gifts of God. I shall proceed, therefore, to state the main points on this subject which fair and candid reasoning seems to me to sustain. When these points are before us, with a summary of the evidence by which they are supported, we shall be prepared to deduce important conclusions respecting God's character and dispensations, and man's position and destiny.

_In the first place, then, I maintain that benevolence decidedly predominates in the present system of the world._

Let this proposition be fully understood. It does not mean that there is no mixture of evil in the operations of nature, but only that good decidedly overbalances the evil. And by the operations of nature I mean those processes resulting from natural laws, which are uninfluenced by the perverseness of man. How much of evil may be imputed to his perversion of the gifts of Providence will be considered in another place, as will also those cases in which evil seems inseparable from the original arrangements of the world. All that I am now concerned to prove is, that, in a vast majority of instances, we see the marks of benevolent design and benevolent operation in the arrangements of nature.

This position is established, in the first place, by the fact that the design of every natural contrivance is to produce happiness.

To show that such is the case, by an appeal to facts, would be, in truth, to write the history of every natural process, and show its design. But it will be sufficient to consider only such cases as appear most decidedly to militate against my position, and to show that even these are not designed to cause evil or suffering.

How does it happen, then, you may inquire, that evil is the result of a multitude of contrivances and processes in nature? It is an incidental effect, I answer; that is, an effect happening aside from the main design of the contrivance. Take a few illustrations.

No one can doubt that the law of gravity is essential to the preservation and comfort of the world, and to the harmonious motions of the heavenly bodies. Yet how often does it give rise to frightful accidents to men and animals! But when they are crushed by falling bodies, or by falling themselves, who imagines this to be the design of gravitation? How clear that its real object is beneficial, and that the evil resulting from it is unavoidable in a world constituted like ours! Why the world is not constituted differently, is an inquiry which men may try to answer; but an answer is not important to my present object.

Take an example from the organic world. Every one is aware that without a nervous system in animals there would be no sensibility, nor sensation, and, of course, no enjoyment; and without these, animals would be unconscious of danger, and would not guard against it, nor withdraw from it. We are sure, therefore, that these two objects are the grand design of the nervous system, and, of course, it is a benevolent design. But the nervous system causes a great deal of suffering as well as pleasure. Obviously, however, this is only an incidental effect, which could not be prevented without a miracle; while the main design is to produce happiness and guard against evil.

It may be asked, however, by what principle we can determine what is the design of a contrivance, and what the incidental effect. Why select a part of the effects, and call them the object aimed at by the contriver, while we regard others as incidental, and merely permitted, not intended?

The principle on which we make this distinction is very clear. We judge of the design of a contrivance by its predominant tendencies and effects. If evil as often results as good, misery as often as happiness, we could not decide whether the design was benevolent or malevolent, or an indifference to both. But the benevolent tendency and effects of every natural contrivance are so obvious, and so immensely outweigh all its evil results, that we are compelled to admit the design of the Author of nature to be benevolent. And, therefore, when we see evil occasionally result from such contrivances, we are authorized to say that this is only an incidental effect; not, indeed, wholly undesigned, for we cannot doubt that God has a design in the permission of all evil. But for each particular arrangement and movement in nature we can discover a predominant and benevolent object.

Take another example from the human frame. In that frame we find a multitude of organs, nearly all of which are obviously adapted to a particular use. Now, the anatomist cannot lay his finger upon one of them, and say, This was intended to produce derangement and suffering in the system. Here is a muscle contrived to clog the operations of its neighbors; here a blood-vessel adapted to corrupt the blood and produce disease; here a gland whose object is to secrete a poisonous fluid, to contaminate the whole system; here a nerve made to produce pain; here a plexus of vessels suited to bring on disease. On the contrary, this anatomist perceives at once that all the organs of the animal system, and their collocation, are fitted in the best possible manner to produce health. It is obvious at a glance that this is their design.

But if such be the fact, how happens it that so few persons pass through life without disease? Is it all to be imputed to an abuse and perversion of the organs and powers of life? Not so, in my opinion. But those organs are all liable to disease; and when we see how delicate and complicated they are, we ought not to wonder that even the unavoidable causes of derangement should often bring it on. Yet, after all, health is the rule and the object, and disease only the exception. But I shall say more on this subject in another part of the argument.

Some one, however, who hears me, has doubtless ere this had his thoughts recur to the organs of carnivorous animals, the poisonous fangs of serpents, and the organs of the scorpion, the tarantula, and of insects, for the generation and protrusion of deadly poison. Here we have organs expressly provided for the destruction of other animals. That such is their design, no physiologist can doubt; and hence they are intended to produce suffering, and not happiness.

Is this an exactly correct statement of the case? True, suffering is the result of such organs; but the arrangement is intended to accomplish still higher purposes. The leading one is to procure food for sustenance, the other is self-defence. Both of these are essential to the animal's continued existence. That suffering should be incidentally connected with instruments or organs so important, is no more difficult to explain than is the existence of evil any where. The object even of these contrivances, then, is beneficial. And if so, I know of no other example in nature so seemingly adverse to the position I have laid down, that the main object of every natural contrivance is benevolent in its origin and results. If this be so, how clearly does it indicate the character of the contriver to be benevolent!

My second argument is derived from the fact that the organic functions often produce pleasure where suffering was just as consistent with their most perfect action; or I might say that such are the arrangements of the natural world, that pleasure often results to sentient beings from its operations, when they might have been as perfectly performed with the production of pain. A few illustrations will render the meaning of this position obvious.

As we look abroad upon nature, one of the most striking traits we discover is its unbounded variety. With the Psalmist we involuntarily exclaim, _O Lord, how manifold are thy works!_ It is not merely variety as to form, texture, attitude, and arrangement; but who can describe the countless tints of coloring which are spread over the heavens and the earth? Now, there is in the human soul an aptitude to be pleased with variety; nay, there is a craving for it. Nor can there be a more terrible infliction than unvarying monotony and sameness of appearance, arrangement, and action. If, therefore, the Creator had been malevolent, or indifferent to the happiness of man and other sentient beings, he might have gratified this disposition most perfectly by giving to the human soul its present love of variety, and then spreading over the face of nature a dead uniformity of figure, position, arrangement, and coloring; forming every thing upon the same model. And this might have been done without impairing at all the perfect operation of all her laws that are essential. Every thing might have been as systematic and harmonious as it now is; but sentient beings would have been miserable; and this must have been supremely gratifying to infinite malevolence. He might also have so constructed the organs of hearing, sight, and smell, that every sound might have been ungrateful and grating, every odor repulsive, and every prospect disgusting. While hunger would have urged animals, as it now does, to seek food, its reception might have been painful, or utterly void of gustatory enjoyment. So in regard to social enjoyments; we might have been irresistibly drawn towards our fellow-men, and yet their society might have been hateful in the extreme.

Had such a state of things existed, how very clearly we should have inferred the malevolence of the Author of nature! Or if such a state had been witnessed about as often as its opposite, we might reasonably have said that he was indifferent to the happiness of his creatures. Why, then, may we not, with equal reason, infer his benevolence, when we find, in a vast majority of cases,--nay, for aught I know, universally,--that pleasure is superadded to animal enjoyment where it was wholly unnecessary to the perfect operation of nature's laws?

The fact is, God has made all nature "beauty to our eye and music to our ear," when it was wholly unnecessary for the perfect operation of her laws; and the inference is irresistible, that he delights in the happiness of his creatures. Nor can the fact that evil exists in the world destroy the force of this argument, unless that evil is so general as to be obviously the design of the Creator in devising and arranging the system of the world. While we admit its existence, we say that it is only incidental, and that pleasure is so often superadded unnecessarily, as to prove happiness to be the design, and evil the exception.

The two arguments above presented are the evidence on which Dr. Paley relies to prove the divine benevolence. They are, indeed, as it seems to me, unanswerable. But if I mistake not, they do by no means exhaust the storehouse of nature's proofs of this fundamental principle of natural and revealed religion. I derive a third argument for the predominance of benevolence in the works of nature from the variety of means often provided for the performance of important functions; so that animals and plants can adapt themselves to different circumstances, and prolong their existence.

The examples which I have in mind to illustrate this argument are all derived from the organic world. I refer, for instance, to the fact that nearly all our muscles, and many other important organs, as the hands, the feet, the eyes, and the lungs, are in pairs, so that if one meets with an injury, or is destroyed, the other can, to some extent, perform the office of both. The brain has two hemispheres, and one of them may be seriously wounded without destroying the healthy action of the other.

But perhaps the most appropriate example is in the blood-vessels, whose inosculations are so numerous that even though large arteries and veins be tied, the blood will find its way through the smaller ones, which ultimately will so enlarge as to keep up the circulation nearly as well as before the injury. And, in fact, almost every one of the large blood-vessels has been tied by the surgeon with little ultimate injury to the patient.

In the process of deglutition, or swallowing the nourishment essential to the existence of all the more perfect animals,--since the food and the air for respiration pass for a time through a common opening, the pharynx,--it is extremely important that the passage to the lungs should be most vigilantly guarded; since strangulation would follow the introduction there of any thing but air. Accordingly, the entrance of the glottis is so sensitive, that the approach of the food causes it to close. But lest this security should sometimes fail, we have an additional guard in the epiglottis, which shuts down like a valve upon the orifice. Even with this double precaution, strangulation sometimes follows the act of deglutition. How much oftener would it occur, had not benevolence thus multiplied its vigilant sentinels at the point of danger!

Another illustration of this argument lies in the fact, that many of the organs of animals and plants possess the power, when an exigency requires it, of greatly increasing their action. When, for instance, an unusual quantity of osseous matter is requisite to repair a broken bone, the glands, whose office it is to elaborate that matter, are capable of secreting an extraordinary quantity, until the injury is repaired.

Of an analogous character is the sympathy existing between the different organs, so that when one has an unusual amount of labor to perform, the rest impart of their nervous energy to sustain their overtasked companion. Thus, and thus only, could animals be carried through many of the severe exigencies of their existence. Their organs help one another, just as if they were conscious of one another's necessities, and were prompted by benevolence to aid the weakest.

In like manner, some of the organs possess the power of vicarious secretion; that is, of producing, in peculiar circumstances, secretions that are usually made by other glands. How they can do this, and how they can know when to do it, are among the mysteries of physiology. Nevertheless, the object of this arrangement is most obvious, viz., the continuance of health and life in spite of accidents, which would otherwise prove fatal.

The same vicarious system is manifest in the well-known examples, where the loss of one or more of the senses gives increased acuteness to the rest. The sense of touch, for instance, in the blind man, has sometimes proved no mean substitute for eyes; and, indeed, any of the senses by cultivation, in peculiar exigencies, may be prodigiously strengthened.

Now, in all these cases, where the vicarious principle is brought into operation, or sympathy concentrates the power of many organs in one, or the loss of one organ or sense quickens the sensibility of the rest, do we not recognize the prospective care and kindness of infinite benevolence? Do you say that it merely shows infinite wisdom, which adjusts means to ends with consummate skill, in order to be sure of success in its designs? Why, then, I inquire, should these provisions for trying exigencies in the animal system always tend to the happiness of the creature? Surely there were other means at the command of infinite wisdom for securing the existence of the animal, which would bring misery upon it instead of happiness. The benevolent tendency of the design, therefore, proves the benevolent feelings of the designer.

The extraordinary provisions that are made in some cases for the multiplication of animals and plants, in order to prevent the extinction of any races, and to give life and happiness to as many animals as can be sustained, is another indication of benevolent care on the part of the Creator. Not less than five modes of reproduction are known to exist, viz., the viviparous, the ovo-viviparous, the oviparous, the gemmiparous, and the fissiparous; and among the lowest families of animals several of these modes exist in the same species, so that their extinction, or even deficient multiplication, is scarcely possible.

The same benevolence is manifested in the power possessed by animals and plants to adapt themselves to different circumstances. Often are they thrown into conditions widely diverse as to food, temperature, and exposure to chemical and mechanical agencies, with no possibility on their part of avoiding them. This is eminently true of man; and were not animals able to adapt themselves to these various states, they must perish. True, there are limits to this adaptation; but they are wide enough to accomplish the great purposes of existence, and to make us comfortable and happy amid great changes in our condition. Nor is this power of adaptation among animals limited to their physical nature. Their mental habits admit of an oscillation equally wide, so that, ere long, we become happy in a condition which at first was painful in the extreme. New habits take the place of the old ones so gradually that we scarcely realize the change.

Now, if this power were not possessed in such a world as ours, could organic natures not bend at all to circumstances, constant suffering and premature dissolution would be the result. The power of adaptation, therefore, looks like the benevolent provision of a kind Father, who wishes to make his creatures as happy as he can in the circumstances in which his wisdom has placed them. Certainly, malevolence, or indifference to their happiness, would not have introduced this power of adaptation into their natures; for it is certain that their continued existence might have been secured in some other way, had no reference been had to their happiness.

I base my fourth argument for the predominance of benevolence, in the arrangements of nature, upon the aggregate results of the most destructive and terrific agencies which she employs.

The immediate effects of these agencies are often so appalling and so unmixed with good, that men view them only as penal inflictions; or, when the sufferers are unconscious of guilt, as mysterious dispensations of evil, which need the light of another world to reconcile with infinite benevolence. When the tornado or sirocco's hot breath sweeps over the devoted land; when the river overflows its banks, and ingulfs the defenceless inhabitants along its course, or the giant waves of the ocean roll in upon the devoted shore; when the heaving earthquake overturns in a moment vast cities, and the earth swallows them in its bosom; or when the volcano pours out its suffocating smoke and its scorching lava, and obliterates from earth the defenceless town, as once Herculaneum and Pompeii were converted into petrified cities,--in the midst of such desolating agencies, where can we discover a gleam of benevolence? Not surely in the immediate effects. But suppose the tornado, the flood, the earthquake, and the volcano are essential to the preservation of the earth from a far wider ruin, so that, in fact, while they destroy some property and life, they preserve a far greater amount, and are essential to such preservation,--why is it not benevolence that gives a slight play to these terrific elements, while it checks their wild war so soon as the requisite security has been obtained? When the storm has sufficiently purified the atmosphere, when the flood has enriched the wide alluvial fields, and the earthquake and the volcano have given vent to the pent-up fires in the earth, so that they no longer threaten to rend a continent asunder, then a restraining power is put upon them, and they are allowed no more range than is essential to the general good. We may not, indeed, see why the good could not be secured without the evil. But this question leads to the inquiry, whether the present system of the universe is the best possible; and that it is so we have the guaranty of the divine perfections. Those perfections admit the existence of evil; but at the same time they take care that the aggregate result of the greatest evils should be beneficial.

Nor would we limit this position to evils springing out of the nature or the changes of the inanimate world; for some of the severest evils are dependent upon the organization or operation of animate nature. Man, for instance, finds himself often grossly annoyed by some species of the inferior animals, in his comfort, property, and even life. And he wonders why infinite wisdom and benevolence should permit certain species to exist, when they seem fitted only to annoy the rest. But he knows not what he desires when he wishes their extinction. For such is the balance of organic nature, that to strike out even one species, is like removing a link from a chain. Once broken, every other link is affected, and the whole chain lies useless upon the ground. Or, to speak without a figure, if you blot out certain species of animals or plants, you disturb the balance of the whole system of organic nature; nor can you tell where the disturbance thus introduced will end. It may lead to the excessive multiplication of species still more injurious than those you have destroyed. At any rate, since the perfections of the Deity lead to the conclusion that the existing proportion between different species is the best, all things considered, and change in the balance must be injurious, we may conclude, that though noxious animals and plants may produce individual inconvenience and injury, the aggregate effects upon the whole of organic nature are salutary, and, therefore, indicative of benevolence.

Similar reasoning will, I think, apply to the existence of that large class of animals called carnivorous. These are evidently intended to prey upon other animals; and for this purpose they are provided with weapons for seizing and destroying their prey. It is often extremely painful to a man of kind feelings to witness the scenes of blood and havoc which these flesh-eating animals produce. But we forget two things. The first is, that in order to keep the numbers of animated beings full in the different tribes, it is necessary that there should be a great excess of numbers created, to meet all the casualties to which they are exposed; and that excess must in some way or other be removed from life. Secondly, all the enjoyment of the carnivorous races is so much clear gain to the sum of animal happiness; for the excess of numbers in the tribes of vegetable feeders suffer no more in being destroyed by the carnivorous races, than if they died in some other way; not so much, indeed, as if they perished by famine. We may safely conclude, then, that even this system of mutual slaughter, when viewed in all its relations, is the means, in such a world as ours, of increasing the amount of enjoyment, and is, therefore, a benevolent provision.

This course of reasoning may be extended, as I judge, to the greatest of all mortal evils,--I mean death. In the case of the inferior animals, the amount of physical or mental suffering from this cause is comparatively small. And if they survive the change of death, surely there is benevolence in so easy a translation. Or, if they do not exist hereafter, the stroke of death is a small deduction from the happiness of a whole life. In man's case, we must not take into the account the aggravations of death which his own misconduct produces. And aside from these, what a blessing it would be to be transferred to a more exalted state of being, by an experience no more painful than that of a Christian dying what may be called a natural death, by mere decay! Then, too, how much greater happiness is the result of a succession of beings on earth, than one undying race would enjoy, both because the successive races would be ever passing through novel scenes, which would soon become monotonous to a continuous race, and because, as we have already suggested, a succession of races admits of the existence, at any one time, of a far greater number of species! Then, too, we must not forget the salutary moral influence which man experiences from the expectation of death; so great, indeed, that without it, it seems doubtful whether the world would be any thing better than a Pandemonium. In making indissoluble the connection between sin and death, therefore, in such a system as the present, benevolence presided with wisdom and justice in the councils of Jehovah.

But in the third lecture I have treated this whole subject so much more fully, that I need not add any thing further in this connection.

I base my fifth and last argument, to prove the predominance of benevolence in the present system of nature, on the fact that good so often results from evil as a natural consequence. Or, to state the argument in another form, good seems generally to be the object or final cause of evil, whereas evil flows only incidentally from good.

This argument scarcely differs from the last, except in the more general form of its statement. That brings forward certain prominent and appalling evils, and endeavors to show that, in striking the balance of their effects, the preponderance is on the side of benevolence. This advances a step farther, and attempts to show that the direct object of evil is to produce good.

It follows, hence, that the examples adduced and elucidated under the last argument are not inappropriate to sustain and illustrate the present. Yet others should be added.

Almost the entire history of medicine and surgery illustrates the manner in which physical evils result in physical good. Indeed, men never resort to the physician, or the surgeon, because their remedies and operations are desirable, but only because they are the necessary means of health and comfort. These means are, indeed, for the most part, of human invention, but not, therefore, the less indicative of the divine intention; for they are founded upon such a constitution in nature as makes it possible to discover remedies for disease and accidents. And the characteristics of nature's constitution are an index of the intentions of its Author.

The severe mental discipline through which the youth must pass, who would attain distinction in learning, affords us an example of intellectual evil resulting in intellectual wealth and happiness. The trial is too severe for many irresolute minds, and they give over the effort, and sink down into a state of indolence and neglect. But he who bears manfully the discipline will at length gather the golden fruit. And he will be satisfied, too, of the wisdom and benevolence of that law of mental progress, which makes it impossible ever to find a royal road to the temple of learning, and which shuts out from that temple all who shrink from the preparatory discipline.

Still more strikingly illustrative of this argument are the evils which men suffer as necessary precursors of moral good. These may be physical or mental; embracing all those experiences that take the name of trials, afflictions, and disappointments. These are often intensely bitter, and they constitute, indeed, the master evils of life. We shudder when we see them coming; and we often writhe in agony when in the furnace. But how many have come out of that furnace purified from base alloy, and ready for the service of God and the world! To do good is henceforth their delight; and they thank God for the severe discipline. When his heavy blows fell upon them, one after another, they felt as if they were the strokes of an incensed Deity. But now they see that they were only the necessary inflictions of infinite love. And they admire the wisdom that could thus educe so much good out of so great evil.

I do not contend that good is always educed from evil in this world, or could be; but only that, in a plurality of cases, if men improve the evils they suffer as they might, such would be the effect. And if this be admitted, it is sufficient to establish the general principle, that one of the direct objects of evil in this world is to produce individual benefit.

But the converse of this proposition cannot be maintained. We cannot, indeed, deny that evil sometimes results from good; but never as the direct object of the latter. The effect is only incidental; that is, not as the main object; and so a few cases of this sort cannot invalidate the proposition which I defend.

I might multiply much more the arguments furnished by nature to prove a predominance of benevolence in the arrangements and operations of the present system of things. But I see no way of escaping the force of those presented, and cannot doubt that all will admit the conclusion. I advance, therefore to a second proposition, and maintain that _the benevolence exhibited in the present system of nature is not unmixed_.

I mean, by this statement, that the divine benevolence exhibited in this world is modified by other perfections. While there is a predominance of benevolence, there are also indications of God's displeasure; or, at least, his dealings seem to be adapted to restrain and amend a wicked race, rather than to make an innocent and holy race happy; so that the condition of the human family is far less happy than unmixed benevolence would confer.

In proof of this assertion, I maintain, first, that evil is incidental to every process and event in nature.

This is preeminently true of all those actions which we call vicious. Indeed, they are in themselves evils of the worst kind; and not only so, but they are connected incidentally with scarcely any thing but evil, though sometimes, as theologians say, overruled for good.

Take next the common operations of nature, which, of course, have no moral character. Their leading design, as we have already seen, is to produce good to sentient beings; but incidentally they bring much evil. Food is intended for gustatory enjoyment and for nourishment; but it is often the occasion of severe suffering, and becomes an active poison. Gravity is intended to hold the material universe in a proper balance, and to attach every moving thing on earth to the surface; but it occasions a vast number of accidents, and a vast amount of suffering. Water and fire are of immense direct benefit; yet the first buries a vast amount of property and life in its bosom, and the latter is scarcely less injurious in its incidental effects. Indeed, what natural agency can be named, that is not armed with the power to do evil?

But the same principle extends also to benevolent actions. With our views of divine benevolence, we might expect that virtuous conduct would never be coupled with evil. But this notion does not accord with facts; for the incidental evils connected with benevolent action are often the most painful in life. Indeed, in how many instances has doing good been rewarded by the loss of life, and under all the aggravations of suffering which malignant ingenuity could invent! And the fact has been, that those whose motives in doing good were the purest have suffered the most. Witness the life and the death of Him who knew no sin, and yet was led as a lamb to the slaughter. Since wickedness in this world is sometimes allowed to have the power of annoying goodness we might expect that the more disinterested the latter, the more malignant and persecuting would be the former, because its own deformity is made more manifest.

But the incidental evils connected with benevolent action are not limited to those resulting from the malice of the wicked. If, for instance, some huge system of iniquity has become incorporated into the very texture of society, benevolence cannot root it out without producing many a severe laceration of individuals, who are incidentally connected with the system, but to whom no blame attaches. The history of the efforts that have been made to substitute Christianity for heathenism and other false religions, is full of examples illustrative of this principle, in conformity with the remarkable declaration of Christ, _Think not that I am come to send peace on earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword._ Alike prolific of illustrations are all the great attempted reforms which the world has witnessed, whether for delivering religion from human corruptions, or eradicating slavery, or intemperance, or breaking the political yoke of the oppressor. In fine, no reasonable man ought to expect to do much good in this world, without suffering much himself and bringing some incidental suffering upon others.

Now, although the evils that have been described are incidental, they belong to the constitution of this world, and, therefore, show the feelings and intentions of its Author, as much as those effects of his works which appear to be their final causes. But do not such evils, incidental to every event, indicate a feeling in the divine mind different from unmixed benevolence? Strictly speaking, these evils are not penal inflictions. But they certainly do not show in the Creator a simple desire to promote the happiness of men, by directly conferring it. They rather indicate a necessity, on account of some peculiarity in the character of man, of mingling severity with goodness in the divine conduct towards him.

In thus representing incidental effects as indicative of the feelings of the Deity, I may seem to contradict my reasoning under the first head, where I gave, as proof of God's benevolence, the fact that the direct object of every contrivance is beneficial, and evil only incidental. But I did not mean to intimate that the incidental effects of a contrivance are no index of the feelings of its author, but only that the direct effects show more clearly than the incidental what are his wishes and intentions, especially if the former are the most numerous, important, and striking. Still, incidental effects are never without an object; and where they are evil, as in the case supposed, they indicate other feelings towards men, in the divine mind, than unmixed benevolence. For it is a strange limitation of God's wisdom and power to say, as some do, that the evils could not be prevented.

It may be said, however, that if men only conform to the laws of nature, they will escape all the evils they suffer. On the other hand, I maintain,--and this constitutes my second argument to show that the divine benevolence is not unmixed,--I maintain that the highest virtue and the most consummate prudence cannot avoid all the evils of life.

Such prudence and virtue will not secure any one against many destructive natural agencies and operations to which he is exposed. Miasms productive of fatal disease may contaminate the atmosphere we breathe, unperceived by us; poison may exist in the food which we take as our necessary sustenance; the mechanical violence of the elements, or of gravity, may crush us; the lightning may smite us to the earth; the wild beast may rush from his unnoticed lair as we pass; or the deadly insect, or serpent, may inject its poison into our blood at an unexpected moment; or the floods may overwhelm, or the fire consume us.

Now, although prudence and virtue may defend us against many evils, they afford no security against such as I have named, in very many instances. We are often ignorant of their existence or proximity till we become their victims, and suffering, often intense, is the consequence. Indeed, the greatest of all physical evils--I mean death--is as sure to visit every son and daughter of Adam as any event can be; and nothing but insanity, or its religious synonyme, fanaticism, has ever pretended to be proof against disease and death. You cannot, indeed, point out any particular organ or agency, whose direct object is to produce disease and death; but they are nevertheless the inevitable result of organic operations and agencies in such a world as this.

It will be said, perhaps, that the good resulting to the whole from even the most severe of these sufferings, overbalances the evil, and therefore they are indications of benevolence in such a world as ours. True, as things are, this may be so. But the question is, Why is there such a constitution given to nature as made it necessary to introduce disease, accident, and death? Would not unmixed benevolence have conferred the good, but have withheld the evil? Had there not been something in man's character requiring the discipline of trials, would pure benevolence have sent them? At least, we should suppose that they might all have been avoided by prudence and virtue. Why should benevolence make such severe drawbacks upon the happiness even of the virtuous, if something were not radically wrong in the human constitution?

Thirdly. The great sterility of so large a part of the earth, and the necessity of severe bodily labor to secure sustenance from it, show us that the benevolence exhibited in nature and in man's condition is not unmixed. Though some limited regions are exuberantly fertile, the larger part of the earth yields up even a mere sustenance only after the severest labor. And the vast majority of the race can do nothing more than to obtain food for the body. The artificial state of most societies does, indeed, keep the lower classes much more depressed than a better state of the world would bring them into; but at the best, nature unites with revelation in attesting the truth of the sentence passed upon man--_In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat thy bread._

Nor is this necessity for severe labor confined to the cultivation of the earth, but extends to all kinds of human pursuits. Success, as a general fact, can be secured only by vigorous industry; and often, in spite of their most honest and persevering efforts, men fail of securing even a competence for the support of themselves and their dependants.

Some will say that all this arises from a necessity in the very nature of the case. But does not such a view limit the divine power and wisdom? Could not God have prepared a world more paradisiacal than the present, where the earth should spontaneously yield her fruits, and pour out her hidden treasures at man's feet? Who will deny this? Why, then, has he not done it? Because obviously a race so prone to evil as man, so incapable of maintaining his integrity in the lap of ease and indulgence, needs all this severe discipline to keep him where he ought to be. Here, then, we see a reason why God must mingle seeming severity with benevolence.

The same thing is seen, in the fourth place, in the confined and depressed condition of the human mind in this world, and in the multiplied obstacles in the way of its cultivation and enlargement.

What a clog to the intellect is a body governed by gross appetites, and often stopping the ingress of truth, or perverting its aspect, by disordered and imperfect senses! Nearly one third of the time must that intellect sink into oblivion, while sleep recruits the physical powers. And nearly another third of life must be given to the wants of the body; and as we have seen, the great mass of men are obliged to devote nearly their whole time to serve the necessary wants of the body. What an incalculable waste of mind does the world exhibit! And even when all artificial and unnecessary obstructions are taken out of the way, what an immense waste must it always present, while in so gross a corporeal tenement! for were it free to exhibit its true nature, we cannot doubt its power of unwearied and incessant activity. And such might have been its condition here, had it pleased infinite wisdom and benevolence. But what unmixed benevolence would have prompted, perfect wisdom would not permit to fallen man.

I feel confident that my first two propositions are established, viz., that there is a predominance of benevolence in the arrangements and operations of the present world, and yet that it is not unmixed benevolence. I advance to a third proposition, which asserts that _the same mixed system of good and evil, which now exists, has always prevailed since the earth was inhabited_.

Geology shows us the true succession of events since the first appearance of organic beings on the globe, but no chronological dates are registered on the rocks. And it is only by observing processes in existing nature, analogous to those whose record is engraven on the solid strata, that we can infer that the years since life first appeared on the surface must have been very many. But however far back in the hoary past that event occurred, we have indisputable evidence that the same laws then controlled the operations of nature as now, and the result was the same mixture of good and evil.

In the crystalline structure, and in the perfect crystals of the older rocks, we learn the laws which predominated at their production. And we find that the same chemical, electrical, and electro-magnetical influences presided over their formation as are now exhibited in the laboratory of the chemist or the laboratory of nature. Now, these crystals conduct us back much farther than the dawn of terrestrial life, though similar ones, and produced by the same laws, are found through the whole series of rocks, from the oldest to the newest. And I might appeal to many other facts in the earth's history, which demonstrate an identity between the physical laws that have controlled nature's processes in every period of past time.

We have evidence, also, of the same identity in the laws of life, or organic laws. In the anatomical structure of the earliest animals and plants we find the same general type that pervades the present creation, modified only, as it now is, to meet peculiar circumstances. This is true not only of the osseous, but also of the muscular, circulatory, nervous, lymphatic, and nutritive organs. Hence, as we might expect, we have evidence of the prevalence of the same functional or physiological laws then, as now. Respiration was performed, as it now is, and with the same effects. Vegetable and animal food was then, as now, masticated, digested, and assimilated; and since animals possessed the same senses, we infer that their habits were essentially the same. There is not, indeed, any evidence that ancient animals and plants exhibited any peculiarities of structure or function, save those necessary to adapt them to the circumstances, so unlike the present, in many respects, in which they lived.

We are sure, also, that death has ever reigned over all organic nature. It has always been produced by the same causes, and attended by the same suffering. And its ravages were repaired by the same system of reproduction as now exists. All this we might presume would be the case, upon the discovery of an identity of laws, mechanical, chemical, and organic; but we have direct evidence, also, in the countless remains of animals and plants entombed in the rocks, more than twenty thousand species of which have been disinterred by naturalists and described.

I might multiply facts almost without number to sustain the position, that the same mixed system has ever prevailed upon the globe; for geology is full of the details. But in a subsequent lecture, the subject will be more amply discussed.

Such are the facts respecting the divine benevolence, as they are presented in the volume of nature. Though benevolence decidedly predominates, it is modified by other divine attributes, and ever has been, since organic existence began upon the globe. Let us now, _in the fourth place, see what inferences are fairly deducible from the whole subject_. For those inferences, if I mistake not, will not only clear away every cloud from the divine benevolence, but throw much light upon man's condition.

In the first place, the subject shows us that the world is not in a state of retribution.

As a general fact, virtue is to some extent rewarded, and vice to some extent punished. But it is not always so. Indeed, the picture is sometimes reversed apparently; and the good are afflicted because they do good, and the wicked triumph because they do evil. Evil abounds, but it is not so distributed as righteous retribution would award it; neither is good. Since, therefore, God's justice must be infinitely perfect, there must be some other object for the prevalence of good and evil in the world besides righteous retribution.

Secondly. We learn from the subject that the world is in a fallen condition.

I mean, that man has fallen from holiness and happiness. For the world is evidently not such a world as infinite wisdom and benevolence would prepare for a being perfectly holy and happy. Philosophize as we may, we cannot discover any reason why the abode of such a being should be filled with evils of almost every name--evils which the most consummate prudence and the most elevated virtue cannot wholly avoid--evils which often come upon the good man because he is eminent for holiness. But if man has fallen from original holiness and happiness by transgression, we might expect just such a world to be fitted up for his residence, because evil is indissolubly linked to sin, perhaps in the very nature of things, certainly by divine appointment. We know that it brings a curse upon every thing with which it is connected; and here we see a reason for the blight that has marred some of the fairest features of nature, and introduced pain and suffering into the animal frame, and brought a cloud over man's noble intellect, and hebetude over his moral powers. Such a fallen condition will explain what no other supposition can, viz., the clouded, fettered, and depressed condition of all organic nature.

Yet, thirdly. We should not infer that man's condition was hopeless, but rather that mercy might be in store for him.

The very fact that the world is not in a state of retribution would seem to afford hope that God had other purposes than punishment in allowing evil to be introduced. And then the vast predominance of benevolence and happiness around us cannot but inspire hope for the fallen.

This will be still more manifest if we infer, and can show, fourthly, that the world is in a state of probation or trial.