191

CHAPTER V.

THE LOGICAL NECESSITY OF FAITH IN A DIVINE REVELATION.

THE first and most important claim of the Bible is, that it contains a divine revelation. This also implies an additional claim to universal reception among men. But the contents of this volume are such, that some of the most valuable of them cannot be received except by the exercise of Faith; inasmuch as they are above the power of reason to originate, as well as to explain them. Hence it is that many Modern Infidels refuse their credence and confidence to those portions of the Bible, which, because they are closely connected with all the rest of it, they substitute as part for the whole, and treat the remainder with similar indifference. They disclaim the reception of that which is above and independent of reason, or that which, as they affirm, is contradictory to reason. They contend that this characteristic of mysteriousness is an argument against the divinity of any revelation which possesses it; so that if there was no other evidence which could be produced against all such claimants to inspiration, the Bible among the rest, this would afford an unanswerable and insuperable one to it. It is our purpose now to show that this is false reasoning; that mysteries, or whatever demands the exercise of faith, are not an argument against the credibility and authority of any professedly divine revelation; that there is, moreover, a logical, and

hence absolute necessity for their existence in any revelation claiming a divine origin; and that therefore the Bible, as making this claim preeminently, must, for consistency's sake, possess this characteristic to a remarkable degree.

earth.

I. The striking analogy existing between the works of nature and the teachings of revelation, proves this necessity. for faith. The material and mental universe are full of mysteries, which the mind has been unable to analyze and account for during six thousand years of past endeavor, and which it will probably never be able to explain upon The philosopher looks around him, and he beholds the vast planetary system revolving with harmonious beauty around one great and permanent centre; and that on every one of these planets, the objects there are bound by a strong and uniform tie to their own centres. Now the astronomer may make his calculations, and carry his investigations into many important and useful directions, and produce results which are certain, indisputable and valuable. But he arrives at a point in these processes beyond which he cannot go, which it is impossible for him to surmount. Upon what principle do all these calculations depend? What is the nature of that power which produces the phenomena which are the subject of these investigations? No man can tell. We may call it gravitation; we may term it centrifugal and centripetal forces; yet that does not explain it. But what is gravitation, its nature, its elements, its inherent composition? Here is a deep mystery which human penetration cannot solve. If we grant this mystery and concede its truth, though we cannot explain and account for it, then we may advance to other calculations and investigations which come within our reach, and are useful to us; but these are all forever based upon a granted and conceded mystery which we despair to elucidate.

Thus too if we descend from the outward universe, to the universe within us, we are met with an equal mystery at the very threshold of our examination. Can we understand how, and where, and even when, the union takes place between our intellectual and physical structures? The anatomist examines the nature of our bodies, their structure, their functions; the chemist analyzes their component substances and properties, and so far they vindicate. their respective sciences from the charge of inefficiency. The metaphysician examines the powers and faculties of the mental part of this wondrous being, and exhibits the attributes and characteristics which mark these powers. But when the question is propounded to so much wisdom, how the union and sympathy between these diverse elements are effected by which they control each other, and operate in harmony, the answer is not at hand. It is a mystery. The fact cannot possibly be denied. We may conjecture and make suppositions about it; and these may be very shrewd and striking. But they do not resolve the difficulty or explain the mystery. The action of mind upon matter, and the ready obedience which our physical frames render to a mysterious power connected with them, we see and feel; but we cannot explain and expound the philosophy of the process. We admit the fact, because we cannot deny what our senses affirm to us; but we admit it as a mystery, as a dark enigma which remains hopelessly beyond our power to elucidate. To deny it because we cannot explain it, is an absurdity which few will be willing to commit.

And so also the structure of the various faculties of the mind, and their relation to each other, is a mystery equally inexplicable. How do all these various powers constitute an harmonious whole? The philosopher will tell us, indeed, that these powers may all be classified in three clear

and distinct orders, those of the intellect, the sensibilities, and the will; or, more correctly, the cognitive and sentient ideas, and the active operations. He gives a luminous exposition of every intellectual state, emotion and action. He may accumulate facts of great value and interest. But there still remains the mystery, as to how these many and diverse intellectual states and powers exist together in harmony and in union; and that mystery he takes for granted without hoping to explain it.

There are thousands of similar enigmas crowding around our paths every hour. The harvest has grown up beneath our eye. We have watched its constant progress when first the verdant blade appeared upon the surface of the earth, increasing from day to day in size, strength, and beauty; receiving the genial rains of heaven, and the invigorating beams of the sun; until now it is filled with golden treasures, and bends heavily, and waves gracefully beneath the pressure of the passing breeze. By what process has this strange result been attained; by which the nourishment and strength of the earth, the moisture of the summer shower, and the heat of the summer's sun, have all been appropriated by the crescent germ, to its own development and perfect growth? It is again a mystery which we must admit and admire, but which we must not hope to explain.

Thus also we behold the wonderful stages through which the variegated butterfly passes from the egg, through the conditions of the caterpillar, throwing off from time to time its too contracted skin; how it exists as a larva, then in the chrysalis state; then bursting its shroud, comes forth with beauteous form and colors to soar in a new element. This amazing process we behold, we see the results produced, and the stages which are gone through; but the mode by which these changes take place, how matter and form are thus deposited and moulded, we cannot explain.

It is again a mystery which proud reason must acknowledge her inability to comprehend and expound. We might thus indeed go on, and adduce the most remarkable and interesting phenomena and processes in nature, and show, what indeed is so plain as to need no proof, that they are deep, dark, and impenetrable enigmas, which no human mind can explain, and which nevertheless cannot possibly be denied, and which therefore extort from us the exercise of a faith which is entirely independent of, and superior to reason. He who would proceed to deny these phenomena, or their existence, on the ground that they cannot be understood or defined by his reason, would at once be stigmatized as hopelessly insane. Accordingly we find what might have been expected, that all reasonable beings admit them, with the most cordial assent.

Now the question arises, who is the author of nature? Plainly the one great and supreme Being; that personage whom all men term God. What was his design in thus exercising his omnipotence and other divine attributes in the creation of Nature? Plainly again to display his glory, and to reveal his will to any who may exist to learn it. And who will be the author of any divinely written revelation which may exist? Undoubtedly, it must originate with this same great being; for there is but one universal and supreme God; and whatever is divine must originate from the only divine source. What would be the design of an inspired revelation? Indisputably to proclaim the glory and reveal the will of its great author. The design in this case is the same as in the creation of the works of nature. These are different volumes employed by the same Being to accomplish the same purposes; and when we remember, that one attribute of his perfections is, that he is unchangeable, we must naturally infer that one principle of instruction which he had once adopted, he would also afterward