the universe, it exclaims "Eureka," "Eureka," "I have found it!"—then, what must be the greatness of the Divine Mathematician who made what it renders a human mathematician illustrious merely to discover? What must be the wisdom and power of the great Architect, who alone and in secret "laid the foundations of the earth," and constructed the universe on those great mathematical principles, which it is man's highest glory merely to perceive and to be able to comprehend?—and who, when He had finished, "waited" as Kepler said, "six thousand years for an observer." Yes, truly, "God geometrizes."
And is not every instance of such great intellect in man, proof of the vastness of the Divine Intellect, from which it was derived? Does not the depth and clearness of the stream prove the purity and richness of the Fountain? And if we think justly, will not the sight of the stream naturally lead our minds to the Source from which it flows? Shall we merely stand upon the bank, and gazing upon the bright waters, exclaim, in the poet's words,
"Flow on, thou shining river,"
and thus glorify the stream as if it were its own author, and not, as it is, a mere efflux from a rich fountain above. Trace the stream of intelligence, as you see it flowing through a Newton's mind, to its Head and Source, and you will find yourself at a vast lake—a sea, ever welling up afresh from infinite depths, and pouring forth on all sides ten thousand times ten thousand streams of intelligence, like Newton's, and less and greater than Newton's,—as many as the rays of light from the sun,—refreshing and illuminating not only the minds of all men in all worlds, but also the
