image he is said to bear. I know but two sorts
of beings in all nature: those that are endowed with knowledge or
reason, and those that are not Now man is a compound of these two
modes of being. He has a body, as the most inanimate corporeal
beings have; and he has a spirit, a mind, or a soul--that is, a
thought whereby he knows himself, and perceives what is about him.
If it be true that there is a First Being who has drawn or created
all the rest from nothing, man is truly His image; for he has, like
Him, in his nature all the real perfection that is to be found in
those two various kinds or modes of being. But an image is but an
image still, and can be but an adumbration or shadow of the true
Perfect Being.

Let us begin to study man by the contemplation of his body. "I know
not," said a mother to her children in the Holy Writ, "how you were
formed in my womb." Nor is it, indeed, the wisdom of the parents
that forms so compounded and so regular a work. They have no share
in that wonderful art; let us therefore leave them, and trace it up
higher.

SECT. XXXI. Of the Structure of Man's Body.

The body is made of clay; but let us admire the Hand that framed and
polished it. The Artificer's Seal is stamped upon His work. He
seems to have delighted in making a masterpiece with so vile a
matter. Let us cast our eyes upon that body, in which the bones
sustain the flesh that covers them. The nerves that are extended in
it make up all its strength; and the muscles with which the sinews
weave themselves, either by swelling or extending themselves,
perform the most exact and regular motions. The bones are divided
at certain distances, but they have joints, whereby they are set one
within another, and are tied by nerves and tendons. Cicero admires,
with reason, the excellent art with which the bones are knit
together. For what is more supple for all various motions? And, on
the other hand, what is more firm and durable? Even after a body is
dead, and its parts are separated by corruption, we find that these
joints and ligaments can hardly be destroyed. Thus this human
machine or frame is either straight or crooked, stiff or supple, as
we please. From the brain, which is the source of all the nerves,
spring the spirits, which are so subtle that they escape the sight;
and nevertheless so real, and of so great activity and force, that
they perform all the motions of the machine, and make up all in
stren