tinues satisfied, fearless and unmoved. Such strange insensibility to things of the most tremendous consequences, in a heart so keenly alive to the merest trifles, is an astonishing prodigy, an incomprehensible enchantment, a supernatural supineness.

A man in a dungeon, who knows not if the sentence of death has gone forth against him, who has but one hour to ascertain the fact, and that one hour sufficient, if he knows it is granted, to secure its revocation, acts contrary to nature and to common sense, if he employs that hour, not in the needful inquiry, but in sport and trifling. Now, this is the condition of the persons whom we are describing, with this difference, that the evils with which they are threatened, do infinitely surpass the mere loss of this life, and that transient punishment which the prisoner has to dread. Yet they run thoughtlessly onward to the precipice, having cast a veil over their eyes to hinder them from discerning it, and then they mock at those who warn them of their danger.

Thus, not only does the zeal of those who seek God, demonstrate the truth of religion, but even the blindness of those who seek him not, and who pass their lives in this criminal neglect. Human nature must have experienced a dreadful revolution, before men could live in this state, much more before they could boast of it. For supposing they were absolutely certain, that there was nothing to fear after death but annihilation, would not this be a cause rather for despair, than for boasting? But as we have not this assurance, is it not inconceivably foolish to boast because we are in doubt?

And yet, it is evident, that man is so debased, as to nourish in his heart a secret joy on this account. This brutal

insensibility to the fear of hell or of annihilation, is thought so noble, that not only do those who are really in this unhappy skepticism, make their boast of it, but even those who are not, are proud to counterfeit a doubt. For experience proves, that the greater part of these men are of this latter kind, mere pretenders to infidelity, and not what they would appear. They have been told, that the spirit of high life consists in rising above these vulgar prejudices. They call this throwing off the yoke; and most men do this, merely from the principle of imitation.

Yet if they have but a particle of common sense, it will not be difficult to make them comprehend, how they abuse themselves by seeking esteem in such a course. This is

not the way to obtain respect, even with men of the world, who judge accurately, and know that the only way to succeed in obtaining regard, is to approve ourselves honest, faithful, prudent, and capable of advancing the interest of our friends; because men naturally love those alone, who can contribute to their welfare. Now what can we gain by hearing a man has thrown off the yoke; that he does not believe there is a God, who watches over his conduct; that he considers himself the absolute master of his own actions, and accountable for them only to himself? Will he imagine that we shall repose in him a greater degree of confidence than before, and that henceforth we shall look to him for comfort, advice or assistance in the vicissitudes of life? Does he think we are delighted to hear that he doubts whether our very soul be anything more than a breath or vapor, and that he can tell it us with a proud and satisfied air? Is this then the topic for a jest? Should it not rather be told with tears, as the saddest of all things?

If they thought seriously, they would see that this con

duct is so ill chosen, so contrary to sound sense, so opposed to virtuous principle and good taste, so entirely remote from that to which they pretend, that nothing can more effectually expose them to the contempt and aversion of mankind, or more evidently mark them for weakness of intellect or want of judgment. And indeed, should we require of them an account of their sentiments, and of their doubts on the subject of religion, their statements would be found so weak and trifling, as to confirm, rather than shake our confidence. This was once very aptly remarked by one of their own number: "Positively, if you continue to dispute at this rate you will convert me." And he was right; for who would not tremble to find himself associated in his opinions with men so truly despicable?

They who do no more than pretend to hold these sentiments, are truly pitiable; for they control their natural tendencies, only to make themselves of all men the most inconsistent. If, from their inmost heart, they regret that they have not more light, let them not deny it. Such a confession would be no disgrace; there is really no shame but in shamelessness. Nothing more completely betrays a strange weakness of mind, than insensibility to the misery of man, without God in the world; nothing more strongly indicates extreme baseness of heart, than not to wish for the truth of eternal promises; nothing is so base as to defy God. Let them therefore leave these impieties to those who are vile enough to be truly capable of them; if they cannot be completely Christians, let them at least be honest men ; and let them at length admit the fact, that there are but two classes of men, who may be called rational;— those who serve God with all their heart, because they

know him; and those who seek him with all their heart, because they do not yet know him.

If there be any who sincerely inquire after God, and who, sensible of their misery, truly desire to emerge from it, for these we ought to labor, that we may lead them to the discovery of that light which they have not.

But as for those who live without knowing God or endeavoring to know him, they count themselves so little worthy of their own care, that they are not worthy the care of others; and it requires all the charity of the religion which they despise, not to despise them so far as to abandon them to their folly. But since our religion obliges us ever to consider them, while they remain in this life, as capable of receiving enlightening grace, and to believe, that in the course of a few days, they may possess more faith than ourselves; and that we, on the contrary, may become as blind as they; we ought to do for them, what we would wish them to do for us, if we were in their circumstances; we should intreat them to take pity on themselves, at least to take some steps forward, and try if they may not find the light. Let them give to the reading of this work, a few of those hours which they would otherwise spend so unprofitably; they may gain something by it, they can lose but little. But if any shall bring to this work, a perfect sincerity, and an unfeigned desire of knowing truth, I hope they will find comfort in it, and be convinced by the proofs of our divine religion, which are here accumulated.

CHAPTER III.

THOUGH DIFFICULT TO PROVE THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD BY THE LIGHT OF NATURE, IT IS SAFEST TO BELIEVE IT.

I. LET us speak according to the light of nature. If there is a God, he is infinitely incomprehensible, because, having neither parts nor limits, there is no resemblance between him and us; we are therefore incapable of comprehending his nature, or even knowing his existence. And under these circumstances, who will dare to undertake the solving of this question? Certainly not we, who have no likeness to him.

P. I will not undertake here, to prove by natural reason, either the existence of a God, the doctrine of the Trinity, the immortality of the soul, or any other point of this kind; not only that I do not feel myself strong enough to find in nature, proofs that would convince a hardened atheist; but that this knowledge, if gained, without the faith of Jesus Christ, would be equally barren and useless. Suppose a man to become convinced, that the proportions of numbers are truths immaterial, eternal and dependent on one first truth, on which they subsist, and which is called God; I do not find that man much advanced toward his own salvation.

I. It is surprising that no canonical writer has made use of nature to prove the existence of God. All tend to establish the belief of this truth; yet they have not said, there is no void, therefore there is a God; they must have been

* A supposed dialogue between Pascal and an Infidel.