is is a very clear inference, even
from no higher consideration than the interests of this world. There is
hardly any human action, however particular a character be assigned
to it, which does not originate in some very general idea men have
conceived of the Deity, of his relation to mankind, of the nature of
their own souls, and of their duties to their fellow-creatures. Nor can
anything prevent these ideas from being the common spring from which
everything else emanates. Men are therefore immeasurably interested in
acquiring fixed ideas of God, of the soul, and of their common duties
to their Creator and to their fellow-men; for doubt on these first
principles would abandon all their actions to the impulse of chance,
and would condemn them to live, to a certain extent, powerless and
undisciplined.

This is then the subject on which it is most important for each of us to
entertain fixed ideas; and unhappily it is also the subject on which
it is most difficult for each of us, left to himself, to settle his
opinions by the sole force of his reason. None but minds singularly free
from the ordinary anxieties of life--minds at once penetrating, subtle,
and trained by thinking--can even with the assistance of much time and
care, sound the depth of these most necessary truths. And, indeed, we
see that these philosophers are themselves almost always enshrouded in
uncertainties; that at every step the natural light which illuminates
their path grows dimmer and less secure; and that, in spite of all their
efforts, they have as yet only discovered a small number of conflicting
notions, on which the mind of man has been tossed about for thousands of
years, without either laying a firmer grasp on truth, or finding novelty
even in its errors. Studies of this nature are far above the average
capacity of men; and even if the majority of mankind were capable of
such pursuits, it is evident that leisure to cultivate them would still
be wanting. Fixed ideas of God and human nature are indispensable to the
daily practice of men's lives; but the practice of their lives prevents
them from acquiring such ideas.

The difficulty appears to me to be without a parallel. Amongst the
sciences there are some which are useful to the mass of mankind, and
which are within its reach; others can only be approached by the few,
and are not cultivated by the many, who require nothing beyond their
more remote applications: but the daily practice of the sci