s urged
in connection with the admission that "the power of reason is yet a
growth," and that although "it has not yet attained to evidence of
Supernatural Being," the denial of it "would imply infinite knowledge as
the ground of disproof." Mr. Holyoake does not deny that there _may be_
a God, distinct from Nature and superior to it; but he denies, first of
all, the sufficiency of the evidence to which we appeal, embracing here
that form of Atheism which is merely skeptical; and he denies, secondly,
the possibility of any sufficient proof, for "no imaginable order would
be sufficient," and the whole "subject exceeds human comprehension,"
embracing, in this instance, that form of Atheism which is strictly
dogmatic, if not in affirming that there is no God, yet in affirming
that it is impossible He can ever be known to exist. What then becomes
of his cautious limitations,--"The fact is _yet_ a problem in
philosophy."--"The world possesses as _yet_ no adequate logic for that
province of speculation"--"Men must die to solve the problem of Deity's
existence?" Is it still a problem, and one, too, which may after all be
solved, and solved even in the affirmative? If it be, why may it not be
solved before death? or what _other_ evidence will there be after death?
And as to the plea of insufficient evidence, what is its precise
meaning? Does it mean merely that it has hitherto failed to convince
himself and his associates? If so, how can he tell that it may not yet
flash upon him with irresistible power, and that he too, like his former
associate, Mr. Knight, may be able to say, "By the blessing of God, the
exercise of those mental powers which He has bestowed upon me has led me
to the conclusion that He exists. There is a God."[266] If it means more
than this, will he say that it is insufficient for others as well as for
him? But why, if others believe on the ground of that evidence, and if,
according to his favorite theory, belief is _the inevitable_ result of
evidence? Is his belief, or theirs, the measure of truth? Does he not
know that multitudes have passed through the same dreary shade of
unbelief in which he is still involved, and have afterwards emerged into
the clear light of faith, discovering what they now wonder they had
overlooked before, and saying with heartfelt humility and gratitude,
"One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see"?[267] But what
has their belief, or his unbelief, to do with the great, the