35. And, that we may see the full dignity of this work, we must always recollect that Man is a part of it, and the crowning part. The workmanship which is employed on mere matter is, after all, of small account, in the eyes of intellectual and moral creatures, when compared with the creation and government of intellectual and moral creatures. The majesty of God does not reside in planets and stars, in orbs and systems; which are, after all, only stone and vapor, materials and means. If, as we believe, God has not only made the material world, but has made and governs man, we need not regret to have to depress any portion of the material world below the place which we had previously assigned to it; for, when all is done, the material world _must_ be put in an inferior place, compared with the world of mind. If there be a World of Mind, _that_, according to all that we can conceive, must have been better worth creating, must be more worthy to exist, as an object of care in the eyes of the Creator, than thousands and millions of stars and planets, even if they were occupied by a myriad times as many species of brute animals as have lived upon the earth since its vivification. In saying this, we are only echoing the common voice of mankind, uttered, as so often it is, by the tongues of poets. One such speaks thus of stellar systems: Behold this midnight splendor, worlds on worlds; Ten thousand add and twice ten thousand more, Then weigh the whole: one soul outweighs them all, And calls the seeming vast magnificence Of unintelligent creation, poor. And as this is true of intelligence, with the suggestion which that faculty so naturally offers, of the inextinguishable nature of mind, so is it true of the moral nature of man. No accumulation of material grandeur, even if it fill the universe, has any dignity in our eyes, compared with moral grandeur: as poetry has also expressed: Look then abroad through nature, to the range Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres, Wheeling unshaken through the void immense, And speak, O man! Can this capacious scene With half that kindling majesty exalt Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose Refulgent from the stroke of Cæsar's fate Amid the band of patriots; and his arm Aloft extending, like eternal Jove When guilt calls down the thunder, call'd aloud On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, And bade the Father of his Country, Hail! For lo! the tyrant prostrate in the dust, And Rome again is free.