Recollect that I am not preaching my own opinion but explaining
it. Whether matter is eternal or created, whether its origin is
passive or not, it is still certain that the whole is one, and that
it proclaims a single intelligence; for I see nothing that is not
part of the same ordered system, nothing which does not co-operate
to the same end, namely, the conservation of all within the
established order. This being who wills and can perform his will,
this being active through his own power, this being, whoever he may
be, who moves the universe and orders all things, is what I call
God. To this name I add the ideas of intelligence, power, will,
which I have brought together, and that of kindness which is their
necessary consequence; but for all this I know no more of the being
to which I ascribe them. He hides himself alike from my senses
and my understanding; the more I think of him, the more perplexed
I am; I know full well that he exists, and that he exists of himself
alone; I know that my existence depends on his, and that everything
I know depends upon him also. I see God everywhere in his works;
I feel him within myself; I behold him all around me; but if I try
to ponder him himself, if I try to find out where he is, what he
is, what is his substance, he escapes me and my troubled spirit
finds nothing.
Convinced of my unfitness, I shall never argue about the nature of
God unless I am driven to it by the feeling of his relations with
myself. Such reasonings are always rash; a wise man should venture
on them with trembling, he should be certain that he can never
sound their abysses; for the most insolent attitude towards God is
not to abstain from thinking of him, but to think evil of him.
After the discovery of such of his attributes as enable me to conceive
of his existence, I return to myself, and I try to discover what is
my place in the order of things which he governs, and I can myself
examine. At once, and beyond possibility of doubt, I discover my
species; for by my own will and the instruments I can control to
carry out my will, I have more power to act upon all bodies about
me, either to make use of or to avoid their action at my pleasure,
than any of them has power to act upon me against my will by mere
physical impulsion; and through my intelligence I am the only one
who can examine all the rest. What being here below, except man,
can observe others, measure, calculate, forecast their motions,
their effects, and unite, so to speak, the feeling of a common
existence with that of his individual existence? What is there so
absurd in the thought that all things are made for me, when I alone
can relate all things to myself?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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