Without, therefore, binding ourselves down to any hard and fast line as to date, we may regard, for the purposes of this inquiry, the Hebrew account of the Creation as one of the traditions handed down in the thought of many minds extending over many centuries, and as having been chosen and elaborated by the inspired writer of Genesis for the purpose of his narrative, the object of which was to set forth the origin of man and the Hebrew nation, to which he belonged, and whose history he was about to narrate in detail. The Hebrew story of the Creation, as detailed in Genesis i., may be regarded as one of the most remarkable documents ever produced. It must not be forgotten, however, that it is a document that is essentially Hebrew. For the author of this book the language of God and of the first man was Hebrew—a literary language, showing much phonetic decay. The retention of this matter (its omission not being essential at the period of the composition of the book) is probably due, in part, to the natural patriotism of the writer, overruling what ought to have been his inspired common-sense. How this is to be explained it is not the intention of the writer of this book to inquire, the account of the Creation and its parallels being the subject in hand at present. The question of language apart, the account of the Creation in Genesis is in the highest degree a common-sense one. The creation of (1) the heaven, and (2) the earth; the darkness—not upon the face of the earth, but upon the face of the deep. Then the expansion dividing the waters above from the waters below on the earth. In the midst of this waste of waters dry land afterwards appears, followed by the growth of vegetation. But the sun and the moon had not yet been appointed, nor the stars, all of which come into being at this point. Last of all are introduced the living things of the earth—fish, and bird, and creeping thing, followed by the animals, and, finally, by man. It is noteworthy and interesting that, in this account, the acts of creation are divided into seven periods, each of which is called a “day,” and begins, like the natural day in the time-reckoning of the Semitic nations, with the evening—“and it was evening, and it was morning, day one.” It describes what the heavenly bodies were for—they were not only to give light upon the earth—they were also for signs, for seasons, for days, and for years. And then, concerning man, a very circumstantial account is given. He was to have dominion over everything upon the earth—the fish of the sea, the fowl of the air, the cattle, and every creeping thing. All was given to him, and he, like the creatures made before him, was told to “be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth.” It is with this crowning work of creation that the first chapter of the Book of Genesis ends.