prints are to be seen on the earth all round them, and His handiwork in the heavens above them. One might, indeed, reasonably be inclined, with Hume, to doubt whether such a being as an atheist ever existed,—were there not found some, so doubly weak as to declare their own folly. "The philosopher, when asked how he could prove the existence of God, answered—'Why, by opening my eyes. God is seen everywhere,—in the growth of the grass, and in the movement of the stars; in the warbling of the lark, and in the thunder of heaven.'"[1] And an illiterate Arab, when asked how he felt assured of the existence of God, replied, "In the same manner as I know, by footprints in the sand, that a man or beast has there passed by."[2] Every man, indeed, carries about with him indubitable proof of God's existence in his own wondrous frame-work. He has but to look at his own hand: there, he may see proofs of skill and wisdom, far above that of any man or of all men together: and such wisdom we call Divine. Now, all wisdom dwells in a personal form. We cannot conceive of wisdom and goodness, either without form, or diffused like the air or ether, or round like the globe. It is man, man alone—the human form—in which wisdom finds its fit abode and expression. Thus, then, this Divine Wisdom that made all things, must dwell in a Divine Human Form,—that which was the great Prototype of humanity; for we are taught in the Revelation derived from that Wisdom, that God created man in "His own image and likeness." It matters not, that that Divine Person is invisible to the eyes of our fleshly bodies: we know that these are com-
