and sliding away, seemed to swallow up itself. We
saw some boys eagerly engaged in the game of throwing shells in
the sea.... Caecilius said: 'All things ebb into the fountain from
which they spring, and return back to their original without
contriver, author, or supreme arbiter ... showers fall, winds
blow, thunder bellows, and lightnings flash ... but they have no
aim.' Octavius answers: 'Behold the heaven itself, how wide it is
stretched out, and with what rapidity its revolutions are
performed, whether in the night when studded with stars, or in
the daytime when the sun ranges over it, and then you will learn
with what a wonderful and divine hand the balance is held by the
Supreme Moderator of all things; see how the circuit made by the
sun produces the year, and how the moon, in her increase, wanes
and changes, drives the months around.... Observe the sea, it is
bound by a law that the shore imposes; the variety of trees, how
each of them is enlivened from the bowels of the earth! Behold
the ocean, it ebbs and flows alternately. Look at the springs,
they trickle with a perpetual flow; at rivers, they hold on their
course in quick and continued motion. Why should I speak of the
ridges of mountains, aptly disposed? of the gentle slope of
hills, or of plains widely extended?... In this mansion of the
world, when you fully consider the heaven and the earth, and that
providence, order, and government visible in them, assure
yourself that there is indeed a Lord and Parent of the whole ...
do not enquire for the name of God--God is his name.... If I
should call Him Father, you would imagine Him earthly; if King,
carnal; and if Lord, mortal. Remove all epithets, and then you
will be sensible of His glory....'

How like Faust's confession of faith to Gretchen:

Him who dare name
And yet proclaim,
Yes! I believe...
The All-embracer,
All-sustainer,
Doth he not embrace, sustain,
Thee, me, Himself?
Lifts not the Heaven its dome above?
Doth not the firm-set earth beneath us rise?...
And beaming tenderly with looks of love
Climb not the everlasting stars on high?...
Fill thence thy heart, how large so e'er it be,
And in the feeling when thou'rt wholly blest,
Then call it what thou wilt--Bliss! Heart! Love! God!
I have no name for it--'tis feeling all
Name is but sound and smoke
Sh