to account for what I find in Nature," what is this but to
discard the whole question, to give it up as one insoluble, at least _by
him_, and to leave to others the problems which have ever exercised the
noblest and most gifted minds? Mr. Holyoake is not bound, indeed, to
explain everything, and he mistakes if he supposes that any one expects
this at his hand. There are many subjects on which even a man of science
must ingenuously confess his ignorance, and many more so little
connected with the interests and duties of life as to have only a very
slight claim on his interest and attention. But Religion is not one of
these: it is so closely related to the welfare and the duty of men, and
has such a direct bearing on the conscience, that it demands and
deserves the serious attention of all; and no one who undertakes to
instruct his fellow-men, and especially when he attempts to overthrow
their most sacred convictions, is entitled to turn round and say, "I do
not pretend to account for what I find in Nature." He is bound to give
some intelligible answer to the question, What is the cause of these
marvellous phenomena which I behold? and what is the ground of that
religious belief which has always prevailed in the world?

But Mr. Holyoake is deterred from any attempt to answer such questions
by its amazing presumption: "The assumption is,--we may look through
Nature up to Nature's God. That seems to me to imply a power, a
capacity, an endowment, which repels me at the outset. If we are to deal
with the common sense of probability, I say I am repelled by the amazing
probability which is against me if I am to deal with the assumption of
distinctness,--that I can look from Nature up to Nature's God. Why, in
the presence of this shadowy form of things, before which all men stand
in awe and dread, in the presence of so many mysteries and marvels which
art is unable to unravel, which philosophy is unable to explain, it
seems to me an immense endowment when a man can say with confidence, I
look through Nature, and beyond Nature, up to Nature's God. I say the
presumption of the thing does repel me."--"Let the profound sense of our
own littleness, which here creeps in upon us, check the dogmatic spirit
and arrest the presumptuous world; we stand in the great presence of
Nature, whose inspiration should be that of modesty, humility, and
love."--"When my friend talks so much about matter, ... his reasoning
proceeds upon this very great