know that any new and higher forces have been added to
matter since man's acquaintance with it. But it would be easy to
add any number of them, or change any lower into higher. That is the
[Page 263] meaning of the falling granite that becomes soil, of the
pulverized lava that decks the volcano's trembling sides with
flowers; that is the meaning of the grass becoming flesh, and of all
high forces constitutionally arranged for mastery over lower. Take
the ore from the mountain. It is loose, friable, worthless in
itself. Raise it in capacity to cast-iron, wrought-iron, steel, it
becomes a highway for the commerce of nations, over the mountains
and under them. It becomes bones, muscles, body for the inspiring
soul of steam. It holds up the airy bridge over the deep chasm. It
is obedient in your hand as blade, hammer, bar, or spring. It is
inspirable by electricity, and bears human hopes, fears, and loves
in its own bosom. It has been raised from valueless ore. Change it
again to something as far above steel as that is above ore. Change
all earthly ores to highest possibility; string them to finest
tissues, and the new result may fit God's hand as tools, and thrill
with his wisdom and creative processes, a body fitted for God's
spirit as well as the steel is fitted to your hand. From this world
take opacity, gravity, darkness, bring in more mind, love, and God,
and then we will have heaven. An immanent God makes a plastic world.

When man shall have mastered the forces that now exist, the original
Creator and Sustainer will say, "Behold, I create all things new."
Nature shall be called nearer to God, be more full of his power.
To the long-wandering AEneas, his divine mother sometimes came to
cheer his heart and to direct his steps. But the goddess only showed
herself divine by her departure; only when he stood in desolation
did the hero know he had [Page 264] stood face to face with divine
power, beauty, and love. Not so the Christian scholars, the
wanderers in Nature's bowers to-day. In the first dawn of discovery,
we see her full of beauty and strength; in closer communion, we find
her full of wisdom; to our perfect knowledge, she reveals an
indwelling God in her; to our ardent love, she reveals an indwelling
God in us.

But the evidence of the progressive refinements of habitation is no
more clear than that of progressive refinement of the inhabitant:
there must be some one to use these finer things. An empty house is