"But what do you mean by _their_ religion, my son?" "Why, I mean, father, a religion of gloomy forms and notions, that have no tendency to make men good and happy, either in themselves or to others." "So then, my son, you make _man's happiness_ the end of religion." "Certainly I do, father." "Our catechisms, Ben, make _God's glory_ the end of religion." "That amounts to the same thing, father; as the framers of the catechisms, I suppose, placed God's glory in the happiness of man." "But why do you suppose that so readily, Ben?" "Because, father, all wise workmen place their glory in the perfection of their works. The gunsmith glories in his rifle, when she never misses her aim; the clockmaker glories in his clock when she tells the time exactly. They thus glory, because their works answer the ends for which they were made. Now God, who is wiser than all workmen, had, no doubt, his ends in making man. But certainly he could not have made him with a view of getting any thing from him, seeing man has nothing to give. And as God, from his own infinite riches, has a boundless power to give; and from his infinite benevolence, must have an equal delight in giving, I can see no end so likely for his making man as to make him happy. I think, father, all this looks quite reasonable." "Why, yes, to be sure, Ben, it does look very reasonable indeed." "Well then, father, since all wise workmen glory in their works when they answer the ends for which they designed them, God must glory in the happiness of man, that being the end for which he made him." "This seems, indeed, Ben, to be perfectly agreeable to reason." "Yes, sir, not only to _reason_, but to _nature_ too: for even nature, I think, father, in all her operations, clearly teaches that God must take an exceeding glory in our happiness; for what else could have led him to build for us such a noble world as this; adorned with so much beauty; stored with such treasures; peopled with so many fair creatures; and lighted up as it is with such gorgeous luminaries by day and by night?" "I am glad, my son, I touched on this subject of religion in the way I did; your mode of thinking and reasoning on it pleases me greatly. But now taking all this for granted, what is still your idea of the true religion?" "Why, father, if God thus places his glory in the happiness of man, does it not follow that the most acceptable thing that man can do for God, or in other words, that the true religion of man consists in his so living, as to attain the highest possible perfection and happiness of his nature, that being the chief end and glory of the Deity in creating him?" "Well, but how is this to be done?" "Certainly, father, by imitating the Deity." "By imitating him, child! but how are we to imitate him?" "In his goodness, father." "But why do you pitch on his GOODNESS rather than on any other of his attributes?"