authority, the motive may perhaps as much be traced to human pride, as to orthodox zeal. The whole subsequent history of astronomy is, simply, the record of the way in which man has been brought to his level, as far, at least, as his dignity depends on the abode in which he dwells. But the grand lesson of astronomy is, that man's true dignity does not consist in the mere outward and physical. The more that the discoveries of astronomy make this world shrink into insignificance, the more amazing is the view we obtain of man's spiritual dignity. It is the immensity of the universe, contrasted with the humble abode of man, that brings out most strikingly the value of the human soul, as redeemed by the death of the Cross. When you attempt to plumb the depths of space, or number the orbs of heaven, your feeling is, How little is man! And, yet, how great, when measured by the price of his redemption! How little are worlds and systems to a God-loving spirit! The holy breathings of one devout heart, give to God more glory than the loudest anthems of the heavenly hosts. And the starry firmament has not been created in vain, while it teaches this great truth to all spiritual intelligences. There is something that urges us to find some use or adaptation for all God's works, but we too often restrict the nature of the use; and unless we find some physical adaption, we think that we have failed. Is it not use enough for the innumerable hosts of heaven to be the silent teachers
