that nature is the primordial and sole existence. If he cannot with certainty assign the cause of all that he perceives to exist, that cause may be nature. If he does not know everything that has been done in the immeasurable ages that are past, some things may have been done by nature. Thus, unless the theist knows all things-that is, precludes all other independent existence by being the infinite existence himself-he does not know that the nature whose supremacy he rejects, does not self-subsist and act on its own eternal essence." Foster's argument is here travestied, but certainly not answered. Where is the wonder that men should know that there is a God? Such knowledge must indeed be elevated and glorious, but it may well be within the reach of a feeble and limited intelligence. It implies a certain likeness to God, but none of the distinctive attributes of God. A single square foot of earth may contain numerous proofs that there is a God, but only the entire universe can furnish evidence that there is none. He who does not know absolutely every agent in the universe cannot be sure that the one of which he is ignorant may not be the eternal source of all life and thought, while the most familiar manifestations of life and thought may reasonably convince him that their eternal source cannot be dead and thoughtless matter. If the theist undertook to prove the non-existence of nature,-that there

are no natural causes and no effects produced by them, he would venture on the same kind of task as that of the atheist who attempts to establish that there is no God, and his audacity might then be rebuked and his want of wisdom evinced by the same kind of reasoning. In that case refutation by inversion would be legitimate and conclusive; but it is clearly inapplicable in any other case. Before it can be employed some one must be found to maintain that there is no nature, which is the only proposition corresponding to there is no God. But no theist maintains the non-existence of nature. What he maintains is that nature is an effect whose cause is God.

If the argument of Foster and Chalmers be well founded, atheism ought certainly not to be a selfconfident system. It can never be sure that there is no God, and can never have a right to deny that there is a God. It must simply affirm that theism has not been proved true, and must abandon the hope of ever proving it to be false. It must rest in a state of suspense and hesitation from which there is no probability of deliverance, unless by theism being proved true. It must never express itself more strongly than by such phrases as "there is no knowing whether there be a God or not,"-" there is no saying,"-" it doth not yet appear." Is this not a very strange and dreary condition for the human mind to be condemned

to abide in? If such be the natural condition of the human mind, must not the constitution both of the mind and of the universe in relation to the mind be about the worst conceivable? But is it not much more likely that atheists have deceived. themselves, than that either the mind or the universe has been so badly made as atheism implies? Is it not much more likely that atheism is false, than that the human mind has been made not for truth, but for doubt?

To deny that God can be known is scarcely less presumptuous than to deny that God is. For, it will be observed, it assumes that we are capable of describing the limits both of human attainment and of Divine power. It assumes that we are not only able to say here is a proposition which the human mind can never ascertain to be true, but also here is a proposition which cannot be revealed to be true even by an infinite mind, supposing such a mind to exist. It assumes, that is to say, in the first place, a kind of knowledge of the human mind such as no man has got. We can discover the conditions and laws to which reasoning and research must be conformed if the human mind would attain truth; but we cannot ascertain the external limits of intellectual progress. To lay down that this or that proposition, which involves in itself no contradiction, can never be known, never be proved, is sheer dogmatism. The

mind has no right to assign fixed limits to its own advancement in knowledge; it has no warrant even for doubting that it may advance for ever, its horizon constantly receding, its range of vision growing always wider and more distinct. When the atheist declares, therefore, that God cannot be known, he dogmatises presumptuously as to the limits of human power; he arrogates to himself a superhuman knowledge of the possible attainments of the human mind. But worse than this, while denying that an infinite mind can ever be known, he assumes that he himself knows what an infinite mind would be capable of. He tells us in one breath that we can never know even the existence of an almighty Being, and in the next that he himself knows what such a Being could not do; that he knows that God could not make Under the apparent

His existence known to us. humility of the declaration God cannot be known, there lurks the affirmation that a finite mind can trace the limits of infinite power. Therefore, I say, to deny that God can be known is scarcely less presumptuous than to deny that God is. It implies in him who makes the denial the possession of a Divine attribute-the possession of infinite knowledge.

The atheist, then, who would not virtually declare himself to be a god, must not venture to deny either that God is or that God can be known,

but must be content merely to deny the sufficiency of the evidence for God's existence. He must be content to be a mere critic; he is bound to confess that atheism is really no theory or explanation of the universe; that no positive or independent or scientific proof of it need be looked for; and that facts sufficient to overthrow it may be brought to light any instant. Atheists are, however, seldom thus diffident, and we cannot wonder that they are not. There are very few minds which could acquiesce in a hopeless and inexplicable hesitancy and suspense. Atheism would make no converts unless it showed more confidence than it is rationally entitled to do.

Not unfrequently it displays great confidence. Thus Von Holbach, in the 'System of Nature,' tells his readers that the existence of God is "not a problem, but simply an impossibility." But for this strong statement he had only the weak reason that " Iwe cannot know God truly unless we are God." We have just seen that to know there is no God, or that God cannot be known, implies such knowledge as only a God can have, but that only a very little knowledge may suffice reasonably to convince us that there is a God. Feuerbach, as I have already mentioned, declares it "clear as the sun and as evident as the day, not only that there is no God, but that there can be none." We seek in vain, however, for the demon