The Heavenly Father | Page 5

their reason for
existing? We see thus appear philosophies noble in their
commencement, but which soon descend a fatal slope. The divine,
so-called, is spoken of still; but the divine is an abstraction, and apart
from God has no real existence. If truth, beauty, holiness are not the
attributes of an eternal mind, but the simple expression of the
tendencies of our soul, man may render at first a sort of worship to
these lofty manifestations of his own nature; but logic, inexorable logic,
forces him soon to dismiss the divine to the region of chimeras. These
rays are extinguished together with their luminous centre; the soul loses
the secret of its destinies, and, in the measureless grief which possesses
it, it proclaims at length that all is vanity. We shall have, in the sequel,
to be witnesses together of this sorrowful spectacle.
Such is the basis of our idea of God: we must now discover its summit.
Before the thought of this Sovereign Being, by whose Will are all
things, and who is without cause and without beginning, our soul is
overwhelmed. We are so feeble! the thought of absolute power crushes
us. Creatures of a day, how should we understand the Eternal? Frail as
we are, and evil, we tremble at the idea of holiness. But milder accents,
as you know, have been heard upon the earth: This Sovereign God--He
loves us. In proportion as this idea gains possession of our
understanding, in the same proportion our soul has glimpses of the
paths of peace. He loves us, and we take courage. He hears us, and
prayer rises to Him with the hope of being heard. He governs all, and
we confide in His Providence. When your gaze is directed towards the
depths of the sky, does it never happen to you to remain in a manner
terrified, as you contemplate those worlds which without end are added

to other worlds? As you fix your thoughts upon the immeasurable
abysses of the firmament,--as you say to yourselves that how far soever
you put back the boundary of the skies, if the universe ended there, then
the universe, with its suns and its groups of stars, would still be but a
solitary lamp, shining as a point in the midst of the limitless
darkness,--have you never experienced a sort of mysterious fright and
giddiness? At such a time turn your eyes upon nearer objects. He who
has made the heavens with their immensity, is He who makes the corn
to spring forth for your sustenance, who clothes the fields with the
flowers which rejoice your sight, who gives you the fresh breath of
morning, and the calm of a lovely evening: it is He, without whose
permission nothing occurs, who watches over you and over those you
love. Possess yourselves thoroughly with this thought of love, then lift
once more your eyes to the sky, and from every star, and from the
worlds which are lost in the furthest depths of space, shall fall upon
your brow, no longer clouded, a ray of love and of peace. Then with a
feeling of sweet affiance you will adopt as your own those words of an
ancient prophet: "Whither shall I go from Thy Spirit, or whither shall I
flee from Thy Presence? If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there: if I
make my bed in hell, behold, Thou art there. If I take the wings of the
morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall
Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me:"[3] then you will
understand those grand and sweet words of Saint Augustine, some of
the most beautiful that ever fell from the lips of a man: "Are you afraid
of God? Run to His arms!"
Thus our idea of God is completed,--the idea of Him whom, in a
feeling of filial confidence, we name the Father, and whom we call the
Heavenly Father, while we adore that absolute holiness, of which the
pure brightness of the firmament is for us the visible and magnificent
symbol. Goodness is the secret of the universe; goodness it is which
has directed power, and placed wisdom at its service.
My object is not to teach this idea, but to defend it: it is not, I say, to
teach it, for we all possess it. There is no one here who has not received
his portion of the sacred deposit. This sacred idea may be veiled by our
sorrows, perverted by our errors, obscured by our faults; but, however

thick be the layer of ashes heaped together in the depth of our
souls--look closely: the sacred spark is not extinguished, and a
favorable breath may still rekindle the flame.
We have considered the essential