5. If any creature could make itself, or other creatures of the same species, why did he not preserve himself; for he that can give being to himself, can certainly continue himself in being? or why did he not make himself more perfect? Why did he make himself, and other creatures of the same species, in such a condition, that they are always indigent, or stand in need of support from other creatures. Or farther, supposing the creature made himself, and all other things, how comes it to pass that no one knows much of himself comparatively, or other things? Does not he that makes things understand them? therefore man could not make himself, or other creatures. 6. It follows therefore from hence, that there must be a God, who is the first cause of all things, necessarily existing, and not depending on the will of another, and by whose power all things exist; _Of him, and through him, and to him are all things_, Rom. xi. 36. _In him we live, and move, and have our being_, Acts xvii. 28. Thus much concerning the more general method of reasoning, whereby the light of nature evinces the being of a God; we proceed, II. To consider more particularly how the being of God may be evinced from his works. The cause is known by its effects; since therefore, as was but now observed, creatures could not produce themselves, they must be created by one who is not a creature. Now, if there be no medium between God and the creature, or between infinite and finite, between a self-existent or underived, and a derived being; and if all creatures exist, as has been shewn, by the will and power of their Creator, and so are finite and dependent; then it follows, that there is one from whom they derived their being, and on whom they depend for all things; that is, God. This is usually illustrated by this similitude. Suppose we were cast on an unknown island, and there saw houses built, but no men to inhabit them, should we not conclude there had been some there that built them? Could the stones and timber put themselves into that form in which they are? Or could the beasts of the field build them, that are without understanding? Or when we see a curious piece of workmanship, as a watch, or a clock, perform all its motions in a regular way, can we think the wheels came together by chance?[10] should we not conclude that it was made by one of sufficient skill to frame and put them together in that order, and give motion to them? _Shall the clay say to him that fashioned it, What makest thou, or thy work, He hath no hands?_ Isa. xlv. 9.