But does it not follow that the moment we attempt to reach into the secrets of God we are perfectly certain to meet with difficulty? We get out of depth directly, and are like people who cannot swim. For how can the human mind, for one moment, expect to solve the mysteries of the deep things of God? How can it aspire either to fathom its depths, or to scale its heights? Think for one moment what man is, a little creature on this little ball of earth, here for a few years, and then passing away for ever. And think what He is, “the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy,” the “everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.” And is it likely that man should be able to put as it were into the balances the deep mysteries of His eternal will? When Zophar thought of it he said (Job xi. 7, 8), “Canst thou by searching find out God? canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is as high as heaven; what canst thou do? deeper than hell; what canst thou know?” When David thought of the knowledge of God, he said (Psalm cxxxix. 6), “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.” When St. Paul was meeting the objection of those who cavilled at the righteousness of the government of God, he met them with the words (Rom. ix. 20), “Nay, but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?” And when the Sadducees put a difficult puzzle on the subject of the resurrection, our Lord Himself silenced them with the words, “Ye do err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of God.” (Matt. xxii 29.) And were they not all right? Shall the finite sit in judgment on the infinite? the created on the Creator? the man of to-day on the God of all eternity? And are we to doubt His revelation because we cannot fathom the depths of His wisdom nor the hidden mysteries of His being? Nay, rather, are not those very depths witnesses to the divinity of His revelation? If it were all so shallow that any young man could wade in it without wetting even his ancles, might we not then believe that it came from some shallow mind no deeper than his own? If it contained no mysteries, might we not begin to doubt whether it really came from a mysterious God? So these difficulties of which we hear so much in modern times, these difficulties on which so many of our young men are so perfectly ready to decide, and on account of which they are even tempted to cast aside the revelation of God—these very difficulties are to us who believe, divine “witnesses” to the divine authorship of the whole. Had the Book been a man’s book, drawn up by man to commend itself to the mind of man, it never would have had in it those high and holy mysteries by which we see the intellect of man altogether baffled. Man’s mind would have produced nothing which man’s mind could not comprehend.