The attentive view of the universe should make us mistrust the judgment, which we form, of that which is the most simple in the order of things; for all the general operations of nature arise from a movement more noble and complicated than we can easily form an idea of. We should surely find, contrary to a perfect simplicity of means, that a circuit of two hundred millions of leagues, which our globe makes every year, is necessary, in order to produce the successive changes of seasons, and to assure the reproduction of the necessary fruits; we should find, that the distance of thirty-four millions of leagues, between the sun and the earth, was necessary to proportion the rays of light to the delicacy of our organs. However, if even in the narrow circle we traverse, we do not discover any constant application of that simple order, of which we form an idea, how could such a principle serve to guide our opinions, at the moment when we elevate our meditations to the first link of the vast chain of beings; when we undertake to examine, whether, throughout the immensity of the universe, there exists, or not, an intelligent cause? What would become, in that immensity, of the insignificant phrase, _it is one difficulty more_? The buzzing fly would be less ridiculous, if capable of perceiving the order and magnificence of a palace, it asserted, that the architect never existed. Every thing indicates, that, according to our different degrees of sense and knowledge, what is simple, and what is easy, have a very different application; we may continually observe, that these expressions are not interpreted in the same manner, by a man of moderate abilities and a man of genius; however, the distance which separates the various degrees of intelligence with which we are acquainted, is probably very trifling in the universal scale of beings. All our reflections would lead us then to presume, that beyond the limits of the human mind, the simple is compounded, the easy our wonderful, and the evident our inconceivable. After having examined the principal arguments of the partisans of athiestical systems, which we now attack; let us change the scene, and in the midst of the labyrinth, in which we are placed, try to find a clue for our meditations. We are witnesses of the existence of the world, and intimately acquainted with our own; thus, either God or matter must have been eternal; and by a natural consequence, an eternal existence, which is an idea the most incomprehensible, is, however, the most incontestible truth. Obliged now, in order, to fix our opinion, to chuse between two eternal existences, the one intelligent and free, the other blind, and void of all consciousness, why not prefer the first? An eternal existence is an idea so astonishing, so much above our comprehension, that we decorate it with every thing sublime and beautiful, and nothing deserves more those decorations than thought.