The Existence of God | Page 9

flame glides and penetrates into all
seeds. It is, as it were, the soul of all living things; it consumes all that
is impure, and renews what it has purified. Fire lends its force and
activity to weak men. It blows up, on a sudden, buildings and rocks.
But have we a mind to confine it to a more moderate use? It warms
man, and makes all sorts of food fit for his eating. The ancients, in
admiration of fire, believed it to be a celestial gift, which man had
stolen from the gods.
SECT. XVI. Of Heaven.
It is time to lift up our eyes to heaven. What power has built over our
heads so vast and so magnificent an arch? What a stupendous variety of
admirable objects is here? It is, no doubt, to present us with a noble
spectacle that an Omnipotent Hand has set before our eyes so great and
so bright objects. It is in order to raise our admiration of heaven, says
Tully, that God made man unlike the rest of animals. He stands upright,
and lifts up his head, that he may be employed about the things that
were above him. Sometimes we see a duskish azure sky, where the
purest fires twinkle. Sometimes we behold, in a temperate heaven, the
softest colours mixed with such variety as it is not in the power of
painting to imitate. Sometimes we see clouds of all shapes and figures,
and of all the brightest colours, which every moment shift that beautiful
decoration by the finest accidents and various effects of light. What
does the regular succession of day and night denote? For so many ages
as are past the sun never failed serving men, who cannot live without it.
Many thousand years are elapsed, and the dawn never once missed
proclaiming the approach of the day. It always begins precisely at a
certain moment and place. The sun, says the holy writ, knows where it

shall set every day. By that means it lights, by turns, the two
hemispheres, or sides of the earth, and visits all those for whom its
beams are designed. The day is the time for society and labour; the
night, wrapping up the earth with its shadow, ends, in its turn, all
manner of fatigue and alleviates the toil of the day. It suspends and
quiets all; and spreads silence and sleep everywhere. By refreshing the
bodies it renews the spirits. Soon after day returns to summon again
man to labour and revive all nature.
SECT. XVII. Of the Sun.
But besides the constant course by which the sun forms days and nights
it makes us sensible of another, by which for the space of six months it
approaches one of the poles, and at the end of those six months goes
back with equal speed to visit the other pole. This excellent order
makes one sun sufficient for the whole earth. If it were of a larger size
at the same distance, it would set the whole globe on fire and the earth
would be burnt to ashes; and if, at the same distance, it were lesser, the
earth would be all over frozen and uninhabitable. Again, if in the same
magnitude it were nearer us, it would set us in flames; and if more
remote, we should not be able to live on the terrestrial globe for want of
heat. What pair of compasses, whose circumference encircles both
heaven and earth, has fixed such just dimensions? That star does no
less befriend that part of the earth from which it removes, in order to
temper it, than that it approaches to favour it with its beams. Its kind,
beneficent aspect fertilises all it shines upon. This change produces that
of the seasons, whose variety is so agreeable. The spring silences bleak
frosty winds, brings forth blossoms and flowers, and promises fruits.
The summer yields rich harvests. The autumn bestows the fruits
promised by the spring. The winter, which is a kind of night wherein
man refreshes and rests himself, lays up all the treasures of the earth in
its centre with no other design but that the next spring may display
them with all the graces of novelty. Thus nature, variously attired,
yields so many fine prospects that she never gives man leisure to be
disgusted with what he possesses.
But how is it possible for the course of the sun to be so regular? It

appears that star is only a globe of most subtle flame. Now, what is it
that keeps that flame, so restless and so impetuous, within the exact
bounds of a perfect globe? What hand leads that flame in so strait a
way and never suffers it to slip one side or other? That flame