ise above that which
imagines all history gathered as it were into one original creative act
from which the infinite variety of the Universe has come and more is
coming even yet?

And yet again, it is a common objection to Paley's and similar arguments
that, in spite of all the tokens of intelligence and beneficence in the
creation, there is so much of the contrary character. How much there is
of apparently needless pain and waste! And John Stuart Mill has urged
that either we must suppose the Creator wanting in omnipotence or
wanting in kindness to have left His creation so imperfect. The answer
usually given is that our knowledge is partial, and, could we see the
whole, the objection would probably disappear. But what force and
clearness is given to this answer by the doctrine of Evolution which
tells us that we are looking at a work which is not yet finished, and
that the imperfections are a necessary part of a large design the
general outlines of which we may already trace, but the ultimate issue
of which, with all its details, is still beyond our perception! The
imperfections are like the imperfections of a half-completed picture not
yet ready to be seen; they are like the bud which will presently be a
beautiful flower, or the larva of a beautiful and gorgeous insect; they
are like the imperfections in the moral character of a saint who
nevertheless is changing from glory to glory.

To the many partial designs which Paley's Natural Theology points out,
and which still remain what they were, the doctrine of Evolution adds
the design of a perpetual progress. Things are so arranged that animals
are perpetually better adapted to the life they have to live. The very
phrase which we commonly use to sum up Darwin's teaching, the survival
of the fittest, implies a perpetual diminution of pain and increase of
enjoyment for all creatures that can feel. If they are fitter for their
surroundings, most certainly they will find life easier to live. And, as
if to mark still more plainly the beneficence of the whole work, the
less developed creatures, as we have every reason to believe, are less
sensible of pain and pleasure; so that enjoyment appears to grow with
the capacity for enjoyment, and suffering diminishes as sensitivity to
suffering increases. And there can be no doubt that this is in many ways
the tendency of nature. Beasts of prey are diminishing; life is easier
for man and easier for all animals that are under his c