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consequences, they invented them whence it happens, that the principle originates in the consequence, whereas the consequence ought to follow from the principle. Those sophisters proceed exactly like one that would define man to be, an animal with two legs, and without feathers," in order to be able to conclude, that a goose, devested of its feathers, is a man. Can there be any thing more extravagant? This, their pretended axiom is, in the main, but empty wit, which signifies nothing; for when they say that all that is above reason is against reason, they mean to speak either of the reason of man, or of the sovereign, uncreated, and infinite reason of God. If they mean the reason of man, this proposition is disgustingly absurd, as it is self-evident that the world presents to men an infinity of mysteries which are above reason, and which this same reason is nevertheless forced to admit : and if they mean to speak of the reason of God, this proposition is equally absurd; because they then must suppose, that there are things which are above the sovereign reason of God; a supposition the most revolting to the very first notions we have of the Supreme Being, and I must add, the most impious, as it necessarily implies, that nothing is true but what is demonstrated as such to man, that is to say, but what he can comprehend; and, of course, that what man cannot comprehend, God himself cannot comprehend.

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XVII. Our Unitarian friend is not yet done reason, says he, is one, and, of course, the reason of God and the reason of man, are not two reasons, but the same reason, and, by a necessary consequence, what is according to the reason of man, is according to the reason of God, and what is against the reason of man, is against the reason of God. This is marvellous reasoning indeed: it is exactly as if you were to say: the water of a fountain is the same as that of the ocean; the light of a ray is the same as that of the sun; therefore, with the water of a fountain, I can water and fertilize as large a tract of land, as with all the waters of the ocean; and with one ray of the sun, I can see as many objects, and as distinctly, as I can with all the light of the sun. The comparison, however, is far

from being exact; for there is some proportion between one drop of water, and all the waters of the seas; between the light of a ray of the sun, and that of the sun itself: both these objects being essentially of a limited nature-but between the reason of man, which is essentially finite, and the reason of God, which is infinite, there can be no proportion at all.

Reason is one; that is to say, that, what has been demonstrated to be true by an evident principle, cannot be demonstrated to be false by another evident principle; because principles do not contradict each other: whence it results, that faith is not contrary to reason; because, for the very reason that a doctrine is evidently revealed by the God of infinite veracity, it is self-evident that it cannot be false or contrary to reason. In any other point of view, there exists an infinite difference between the reason of man and the reason of God. God knows all things; man knows almost nothing. God knows all the relations which things have to one another: man perceives but few of those relations, and scarce ever otherwise than in a confused manner. God judges infallibly of the nature of those relations in which things stand with each other: man may be mistaken, and is, indeed, often mistaken, in his judgment about the relations of the things which he knows. Thus man rushes into a thousand errors, suffers himself to be deluded by a thousand prejudices, draws at every turn false and rash inferences; in a word, man, that rational animal, is every moment at variance with reason and good sense. What then must we think, when, to use the language of the Apostle, we behold that pitiful animal insolently rising up against the infinite knowledge of God? When we see man argue with his God, and maintain that, what he has revealed, is not, or cannot be? when we see him demand of God his proofs, and solemnly protest to God, that he will not believe him, unless he see and comprehend what he reveals? Is it possible to unite so much rashness with so much weakness ?*

* Let the insolent creature, who pretends to have a right to dispute with his God, and to call him to an account at the bar of his haughty reason, turn over to the 38th, 39th, 40th, and 41st chapters of the book of Job ; “Then the Lord

XVIII. Why, then, (so goes on our Unitarian friend,) do Christians say, that in order to believe the mysteries of religion, man must renounce his reason? If they be not against reason, why, in order to believe them, should he be obliged to give up his reason?

This objection obviously rests upon nothing but a pitiful equivocation. Christians say, that in order to believe the mysteries of religion, man must renounce, not reason, but his reason; that is to say, not the light of reason, but the curiosity of his reason, which claims a right to know and to fathom every thing; the pride of his reason, which affects a ridiculous independence; the rashness of his reason, which persuades him, that, what he does not compréhend and clearly conceive, cannot be true. Thus, in renouncing, not reason, but my reason, it is reason itself that guides me. How so? Because my reason dictates to me, that, as God on the one hand comprehends infinitely more things than a created being can understand; and as on the other he has a right to be believed on his sacred word in what he is pleased to reveal to men, how incomprehensible soever it be to them, the best and most noble use I can make of my reason, is that of submitting it to God's infallible oracles: the submission, therefore, with which I believe the most impenetrable mysteries, is, to use the words of the Apostle, a rational submission, rationabile obsequium, that is to say, a submission, for which reason itself furnishes me the motives, and motives not only probable and, plausible, but altogether evident. What I believe, is ob

answered Job out of a whirlwind, and said: Who is this that wrappeth up sentences in unskilful words? Gird up thy loins like a man: I will ask thee, and answer thou me. Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me, if thou hast understanding, who has laid the measure thereof, if thou knowest? or who has stretched the line upon it? Upon what are its bases grounded? or who laid the corner stone thereof? When the morning stars praised me together, and all the sons of God made a joyful melody? Who shut up the sea with doors, when it broke forth, as issuing out of the womb? When I made a cloud a garment thereof, and wrapped it in a mist as in swaddling bands? I set my bounds around it, and made it bars and doors; and I said: hitherto shalt thou come, and shalt go no further; and here thou shalt break thy swelling waves. Didst thou know then that thou shouldst be born, and didst thou know the number of thy days?" &c. &c,

scure for me, but I see clearly that I ought to believe it. I do not see what I believe, but I know that God has revealed it; and this alone is a sufficient reason for me to believe it as firmly as if I saw it; for I am convinced that the word of God has more weight of itself alone, than all demonstrations taken together. Accordingly, when I renounce my reason, in order to believe the mysteries of religion, I renounce it because reason commands me to do so.* I make use of my reason, to examine the proofs of revelation: I discuss the facts, and compare them one with another; I ponder and appreciate the evidences; I carry every where the flambeau of the severest criticism; and when, from this investigation, it irrefragably results, that God has actually revealed to the world the mysteries of the Christian religion, I unhesitatingly determine to believe them; for it is assuredly the duty of man to listen, when God speaks; to believe, when God reveals; to adore and obey when God commands. Is it possible to proceed

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"The more I endeavour to contemplate the infinite essence of God," says one of the brightest geniuses of the past age, "the less I conceive it: but it exists, that suffices me. The less I conceive it, the more I adore it. I humble myself, and say to him: Being of Beings! I ain, because thou art. tate thee, is to remount to my source. The most worthy use of my reason, is to annihilate myself before thee. My mind is delighted, and my weakness charmed, when I feel myself overwhelmed by thy greatness." Pens. Maxim. Esp. de J. J. Rousseau.

"I shall therefore say to the haughty philosopher," says a judicious writer of the last century, "Do not rail against those mysteries, which reason cannot possibly fathom; attach yourself to the examination of those truths which may be easily approached, and which you may, as it were, touch and handle, and which answer for all the rest. These truths are striking and sensible facts, in which religion has, as it were, entrenched herself entirely, in order to strike equally the learned and the unlearned. These facts are given over to your curiosity, to your severest scrutiny. These are the foundations of your religion; dig, then, around them; try to shake them; go down with the flambeau of philosophy till you reach that very antique stone which has been so repeatedly rejected by unbelievers, and which has crushed them all. But when, after having come to a certain death, you shall have reached the hand of the Most High, who since the commencement of the world sustains this grand and majestic edifice; an edifice strengthened and consolidated by the very storms and torrents of years-stop, and dig not down to the very abyss of hell. Philosophy cannot guide you further without, leading you astray; you

more wisely? I follow the voice of my reason, as far as it can guide me, and when I leave it, it is by its advice that I do so, and in order to place myself in the hands of a guide infinitely more sure, and who cannot lead me astray. Reason, after having conducted me, according to the above procedure, to the very sanctuary of Religion, struck with religious awe, seems to hold forth to me this exalted language: I have hitherto guided thee, but henceforth thou shalt be guided by a surer and a higher authority: it is no longer a dim ray, but the sun itself, in all its splendour, that will direct thy steps: It is no longer man, but God himself: no longer reason, but the uncreated wisdom, that will dictate to thee its oracles. My last advice is, Believe and adore.

SECTION V.

XIX. Is it most worthy of God's infinite wisdom and goodness, to reveal mysteries to men.

The Unitarian opens another battery-why, says he, should God oblige men to believe impenetrable mysteries, and bring their reason into such hard captivity? What use is there in believing mysteries?

In answer, in the first place, that God was not bound to call our Unitarian friend to his council, nor to take his advice on the laws which he was to give him; that he, himself, knows why he would bring his reason under the yoke of faith, and that it ought to suffice him that he knows it; that he is his creature, and not his judge; that he ought to adore the conduct which he holds in his regard, and not rashly scrutinize it: that all that he commands, ought to appear wise to him, for the sole reason, that it is he who commands it, since he is wisdom itself, and that, if he does not obey him but because that which he commands, appears to him wise,

enter upon the unfathomable abyss of eternity; philosophy must here veil her eyes as well as the vulgar, and entrust man with confidence to the hands of faith." P. Guenard, Discours sur l'esprit Philosophique, Courronne a L'acca, Franc. en 1775.

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