inly indicates, that whenever
the benefits which she confers are not put to use as she designed, they
will gradually, but most certainly, be withdrawn.
The same fact is also proved positively:--For we find, that the proper
use of any portion of our knowledge, is invariably rewarded by its
becoming still more familiar. The student who puts a principle in
chemistry to the test of experiment, will understand it better, remember
it longer, and be able to apply it to useful purposes, much more readily
than his companion who merely reflects upon it. And of two individuals,
who by a lecture have been taught the duty and the delights of mercy,
that one will learn it best, and remember it longest, who, immediately
on hearing it, is prompted to relieve a fellow creature from distress,
or to save a family from ruin.
This principle of making every thing conduce to the promotion of
practical good, seems to pervade all the works of God; and there is no
department in Nature, mineral, vegetable, or animal, that does not
afford proofs of its existence. Every thing that the Almighty has formed
is practically useful; and is arranged in such a manner as to give the
clearest indications, that it was designed to be turned to some useful
purpose by man. The annual and diurnal motions of the earth in its
orbit; the obliquity of its axis; the inequality of its surface, and the
disposition and disruption of its strata, all shew the most consummate
wisdom, and are severally a call to intelligent man to turn them to use.
On these, and on every other department of Nature's works, there is
written in legible characters, that it is the _use_ of knowledge, and
not the _possession_ of it merely, that is recommended. This she teaches
by every operation of her hand, both directly, and by analogy. For could
we suppose that the vegetable creation were capable of receiving
knowledge, we might conclude from various facts, that this principle was
not confined to the animal kingdom alone, but that it regulated the
operations of all organic existences. The living vegetable has at least
the appearance of acting under its influence; for, as if it knew that
light was necessary for its health and growth, it invariably turns
towards the light;--as if it knew that certain kinds of decayed matter
were better fitted for its nourishment than others, it pushes out new
fibrous roots in the direction of the spot where they are to be
found;--and even when isolated on a r
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