He is the undying human memory, the increasing human will_" (p. 61).
When, in the last chapter, I discussed the date of the divinity's
birth, I had overlooked this text. Here we have it in black and white
that he did not precede mankind--that, of course, would have implied
independence--but began with the "dawning" of the race, and has grown
with its growth. Moreover, the analogy of a "current of thought" is
expressly suggested--reinforcing the suspicion which has all along
haunted us that the God of Mr. Wells is nothing else than what is
known to less mythopoeic thinkers as a "stream of tendency." But Mr.
Wells will by no means have it so. Indeed he evidently regards this as
the most annoying, and perhaps damnable, of heresies. On the very next
page he proceeds to rule out the suggestion that "God is the
collective mind and purpose of the human race." "You may declare," he
says, "that this is no God, but merely the sum of mankind. But those
who believe in the new ideas very steadfastly deny that. God is, they
say, not an aggregate but a synthesis." And he goes on to suggest
various analogies: a temple is more than a gathering of stones, a
regiment more than an accumulation of men: we do not love the soil of
our back garden, or the chalk of Kent, or the limestone of Yorkshire;
yet we love England, which is made up of these things. So God is more
than the sum or essence of the nobler impulses of the race: he is a
spirit, a person, a friend, a great brother, a captain, a king: he "is
love and goodness" (p 80); and without him the Service of Man is "no
better than a hobby, a sentimentality or a hypocrisy" (p. 95).

Let us reflect a little upon these analogies, and see whether they
rest on any solid basis. Why is a temple more than a heap of stones?
Because human intelligence and skill have entered into the stones and
organized them to serve a given purpose or set of purposes: to delight
the eye, to elevate the mind, to express certain ideas, to afford
shelter for worshippers against wind, rain and sun. Why is a regiment
more than a mob? Again because it has been deliberately and
elaborately organized to fulfil certain functions. Why is England more
than the mere rocks of which it is composed? Because these materials
have been grouped, partly by nature, but very largely by the labor of
untold generations of our fathers, into forms which give pleasure to
the eye and appeal to our most intimate and cherished associations.
Bes