IT is essential to a true theory of nature and of man, that it should contain somewhat progressive. Uses that are exhausted or that may be, and facts that end in the statement, cannot be all that is true of this brave lodging wherein man is harbored, and wherein all his faculties find appropriate and endless exercise. And all the uses of nature admit of being summed in one, which yields the activity of man an infinite scope. Through all its kingdoms, to the suburbs and outskirts of things, it is faithful to the cause whence it had its origin. It always speaks of Spirit. It suggests the absolute. It is a perpetual effect. It is a great shadow pointing always to the sun behind us.
A true theory of nature and humanity must include something that allows for continued growth. Some uses are exhausted or can be exhausted, and some facts go no further than their statement. These cannot be the whole truth about this splendid home that shelters us. Here, all our abilities find fitting and endless exercise. All the uses of nature can be summed up in one, giving human activity infinite scope. Throughout all its kingdoms, even at the farthest edges of things, nature remains faithful to the cause that created it. It always speaks of Spirit. It suggests the absolute. It is a never-ending effect. It is a great shadow, always pointing to the sun behind us.
The aspect of nature is devout. Like the figure of Jesus, she stands with bended head, and hands folded upon the breast. The happiest man is he who learns from nature the lesson of worship.
Nature has a reverent appearance. Like the figure of Jesus, she stands with her head bowed and her hands folded over her chest. The happiest person is the one who learns from nature how to worship.
Of that ineffable essence which we call Spirit, he that thinks most, will say least. We can foresee God in the coarse, and, as it were, distant phenomena of matter; but when we try to define and describe himself, both language and thought desert us, and we are as helpless as fools and savages. That essence refuses to be recorded in propositions, but when man has worshipped him intellectually, the noblest ministry of nature is to stand as the apparition of God. It is the organ through which the universal spirit speaks to the individual, and strives to lead back the individual to it.
Those who think most deeply about the indescribable essence we call Spirit will say the least about it. We can glimpse God in the crude and seemingly distant workings of matter. But when we try to define and describe him, both language and thought fail us. We are as helpless as fools and people untouched by civilization. That essence cannot be captured in statements. But once we have worshipped him through the intellect, nature’s noblest service is to appear as God’s visible presence. Nature is the instrument through which the universal spirit speaks to each person. It strives to lead each person back to itself.
When we consider Spirit, we see that the views already presented do not include the whole circumference of man. We must add some related thoughts.
When we consider Spirit, we see that the views already presented do not cover the whole of human nature. We must add some related thoughts.
Three problems are put by nature to the mind; What is matter? Whence is it? and Whereto? The first of these questions only, the ideal theory answers. Idealism saith: matter is a phenomenon, not a substance. Idealism acquaints us with the total disparity between the evidence of our own being, and the evidence of the world's being. The one is perfect; the other, incapable of any assurance; the mind is a part of the nature of things; the world is a divine dream, from which we may presently awake to the glories and certainties of day. Idealism is a hypothesis to account for nature by other principles than those of carpentry and chemistry. Yet, if it only deny the existence of matter, it does not satisfy the demands of the spirit. It leaves God out of me. It leaves me in the splendid labyrinth of my perceptions, to wander without end. Then the heart resists it, because it balks the affections in denying substantive being to men and women. Nature is so pervaded with human life, that there is something of humanity in all, and in every particular. But this theory makes nature foreign to me, and does not account for that consanguinity which we acknowledge to it.
Nature poses three questions to the mind. What is matter? Where does it come from? And where is it going? Idealism answers only the first of these questions. It says that matter is an appearance, not a substance. Idealism shows us the complete difference between the evidence of our own existence and the evidence of the world’s existence. The first is certain. The second can offer no certainty at all. The mind belongs to the essential nature of things. The world is a divine dream. We may soon awaken from it to the glories and certainties of daylight. Idealism is a theory that explains nature through principles other than those of carpentry and chemistry. Yet if it merely denies that matter exists, it does not meet the spirit’s needs. It leaves God outside me. It leaves me wandering endlessly in the splendid maze of my perceptions. The heart then resists it. It frustrates our affections by denying that men and women have any substantial existence. Human life fills nature so completely that something human exists in all of it, and in every particular thing. But this theory makes nature foreign to me. It does not explain the kinship we recognize between ourselves and nature.
Let it stand, then, in the present state of our knowledge, merely as a useful introductory hypothesis, serving to apprize us of the eternal distinction between the soul and the world.
Given what we now know, then, let it stand only as a useful starting hypothesis. It serves to make us aware of the eternal distinction between the soul and the world.
But when, following the invisible steps of thought, we come to inquire, Whence is matter? and Whereto? many truths arise to us out of the recesses of consciousness. We learn that the highest is present to the soul of man, that the dread universal essence, which is not wisdom, or love, or beauty, or power, but all in one, and each entirely, is that for which all things exist, and that by which they are; that spirit creates; that behind nature, throughout nature, spirit is present; one and not compound, it does not act upon us from without, that is, in space and time, but spiritually, or through ourselves: therefore, that spirit, that is, the Supreme Being, does not build up nature around us, but puts it forth through us, as the life of the tree puts forth new branches and leaves through the pores of the old. As a plant upon the earth, so a man rests upon the bosom of God; he is nourished by unfailing fountains, and draws, at his need, inexhaustible power. Who can set bounds to the possibilities of man? Once inhale the upper air, being admitted to behold the absolute natures of justice and truth, and we learn that man has access to the entire mind of the Creator, is himself the creator in the finite. This view, which admonishes me where the sources of wisdom and power lie, and points to virtue as to
But when we follow the invisible steps of thought, we begin to ask, Where does matter come from? Where is it going? Many truths emerge from the depths of consciousness. We learn that the highest reality is present to the human soul. This awe-inspiring universal essence is not wisdom, love, beauty, or power alone. It is all of them in one, and each of them completely. All things exist for it, and through it they exist. We learn that spirit creates. Behind nature and throughout nature, spirit is present. It is one, not made of separate parts. It does not act on us from outside, in space and time, but spiritually, through ourselves. So spirit, the Supreme Being, does not build nature around us, but brings it forth through us. It does this as a tree’s life produces new branches and leaves through the pores of its older growth. As a plant rests on the earth, so a person rests against the heart of God. We are nourished by springs that never fail and draw on inexhaustible power as we need it. Who can set limits to human possibilities? Once we breathe the higher air, we are allowed to see the absolute nature of justice and truth. Then we learn that we have access to the Creator’s entire mind. We ourselves are creators within our finite limits. This view reminds me where the sources of wisdom and power lie, and points to virtue as to
"The golden key Which opes the palace of eternity,"
"The golden key that opens the palace of eternity,"
carries upon its face the highest certificate of truth, because it animates me to create my own world through the purification of my soul.
It bears the strongest mark of truth because it inspires me to create my own world by purifying my soul.
The world proceeds from the same spirit as the body of man. It is a remoter and inferior incarnation of God, a projection of God in the unconscious. But it differs from the body in one important respect. It is not, like that, now subjected to the human will. Its serene order is inviolable by us. It is, therefore, to us, the present expositor of the divine mind. It is a fixed point whereby we may measure our departure. As we degenerate, the contrast between us and our house is more evident. We are as much strangers in nature, as we are aliens from God. We do not understand the notes of birds. The fox and the deer run away from us; the bear and tiger rend us. We do not know the uses of more than a few plants, as corn and the apple, the potato and the vine. Is not the landscape, every glimpse of which hath a grandeur, a face of him? Yet this may show us what discord is between man and nature, for you cannot freely admire a noble landscape, if laborers are digging in the field hard by. The poet finds something ridiculous in his delight, until he is out of the sight of men.
The world comes from the same spirit as the human body. It is a more distant and lesser embodiment of God, an expression of God in unconscious form. But it differs from the body in one important way. Unlike the body, it is not now subject to human will. We cannot disturb its peaceful order. So, for us, it is the present interpreter of the divine mind. It is a fixed point by which we can measure how far we have strayed. As we decline, the contrast between us and our home becomes clearer. We are strangers in nature to the same degree that we are estranged from God. We do not understand birdsong. The fox and deer flee from us. The bear and tiger tear us apart. We know the uses of only a few plants, such as corn, apples, potatoes, and grapevines. Isn't the landscape, grand in every glimpse, a face of God? Yet this can show us the discord between humanity and nature. You cannot freely admire a noble landscape if laborers are digging in a nearby field. The poet finds something ridiculous in his delight until he is out of sight of other people.