see some one single human being
die--or swaying and swinging backwards and forwards, and to and fro, to
hail a victorious armament returning from the war of Liberty, with him
who hath "taken the start of this majestic world" conspicuous from afar
in front, encircled with music, and with the standard of his unconquered
country afloat above his head. Thus, and by many thousand other potent
influences for ever at work, and from which the human heart can never
make its safe escape, let it flee to the uttermost parts of the earth,
to the loneliest of the multitude of the isles of the sea, are men, who
vainly dream that they are Atheists, forced to feel God. Nor happens
this but rarely--nor are such "angel-visits few and far between." As the
most cruel have often, very often, thoughts tender as dew, so have the
most dark often, very often, thoughts bright as day. The sun's golden
finger writes the name of God on the clouds, rising or setting, and the
Atheist, falsely so called, starts in wonder and in delight, which his
soul, because it is immortal, cannot resist, to behold that Bible
suddenly opened before his eyes on the sky. Or some old, decrepit,
greyhaired crone, holds out her shrivelled hand, with dim eyes patiently
fixed on his, silently asking charity--silently, but in the holy name of
God; and the Atheist, taken unawares, at the very core of his heart bids
"God bless her," as he relieves her uncomplaining miseries.

If then Atheists do exist, and if their deathbeds may be described for
the awful or melancholy instruction of their fellow-men, let them be
such Atheists as those whom, let us not hesitate to say, we may
blamelessly love with a troubled affection; for our Faith may not have
preserved us from sins from which they are free--and we may give even to
many of the qualities of their most imperfect and unhappy characters
almost the name of virtues. No curses on their deathbeds will they be
heard to utter. No black scowlings--no horrid gnashing of teeth--no
hideous shriekings will there appal the loving ones who watch and weep
by the side of him who is dying disconsolate. He will hope, and he will
fear, now that there is a God indeed everywhere present--visible now in
the tears that fall, audible now in the sighs that breathe for his
sake--in the still small voice. That Being forgets not those by whom he
has been forgotten; least of all, the poor "Fool who has said in his
heart there is no God," and who knows at la