SERMON III.

THE DOCTRINE OF ENDLESS MISERY IRRECONCILABLE WITH THE NATURE OF MAN.

And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member be honored, all the members rejoice with it.-1 Cor. xii. 26.

MAN is a wonderful being. He is possessed of organs and powers, so reciprocal in their operation, that "the eye cannot say to the hand, I have no need of thee; nor, again, the head to the feet, I have no need of you." He is one of the proudest monuments of the Creator's skill and goodness, and bears the distinct impress of a Divine Maker. Whenever we consider his complicated physical structure, his vast intellectual powers, and his heart of sympathy, we cannot but exclaim with the Psalmist "How manifold are thy works, Lord God Almighty; in wisdom hast thou made them

all."

By studying this work of God, we can learn with a certainty, satisfactory to the candid and reflecting, the end for which man was designed, and the glorious destiny which awaits him. In

order to gain all the information that is possible on this important subject, I will ask your attention,

I. TO THE PHYSICAL STRUCTURE OF MAN.

II. TO HIS INTELLECTUAL POWERS.
III. TO HIS SYMPATHETIC NATURE.

And,

As I am no anatomist, I shall be obliged to depend entirely on the views of others, for what I have to say on man's physical structure. One of the best articles I ever perused on this subject may be found in Godwin's work against atheism; and on that I shall chiefly rely for what I have to offer on our first proposition.

Let us first consider the arrangement made to protect the brain and heart. In this God has proceeded upon the principle adopted in constructing a watch. The fine work which is peculiarly valuable, and so easily susceptible of injury from dust or external violence, is carefully guarded by a strong metal case. The same prudent precaution is observed in constructing an organ and a piano-forte.

There is the same wise precaution in the structure of man. His brain and heart, which the least violence would destroy, are safely guarded by a frame-work almost as strong as iron. The bones of the cranium rise up around the brains, like solid walls, and, uniting into an arch, spread a dome above them. Within is a plate, hard and brittle, which no point can easily pierce. To prevent this from being chipped or cracked, there is an exterior plate of less hardness, but of less susceptibility from a blow; and over the whole is spread a soft, thick mat of hair, which tends materially to break the shock arising from collision

with any hard body, and thus to save the brain from concussion, while at the same time it gives beauty to the appearance.

A safeguard equally great has been thrown around the heart and lungs. Behind, the spine is the central guard, while from it the ribs extend in a circular form till they join in a front defence, which is the breast bone. Thus room is afforded for the play of these organs, and ample protection is secured.

The same wisdom is manifested in so constructing the human frame, that man can walk and labor. In order to accomplish this end, the framework must not be all of one piece; for then man would be motionless like a statue. Hence, the

human skeleton is made up of two hundred and fifty-four distinct bones, which are all connected and combined into one piece of framework. How wonderfully is this frame constructed! Look at the erect posture of man. One bone is placed upon another, in such a manner as to give strength and firmness to the towering structure.

But erectness secures only one end. Another arrangement was required to enable this framework to move in its different parts. The head, containing four senses, required a freedom and facility of motion in every direction. How fully is this end secured! Look, too, at the facility of motion in the arms, hands, and feet. A joint is fitted in every place which is essential to give man the control over every part of his system. The two hundred and fifty-four bones come together in such a manner that each one is exactly fitted to its place. We have a convex always

working in a concavity, a tenon in a mortice, a projection in an indentation.

The hand, small as it is, has no less than twenty-seven bones, which admit of motions and positions almost innumerable; and the foot, with its thirty-six distinct parts, is so put together, that it supports the fabric like a pedestal, and has elastic arches that preserve the body from sudden shocks in walking, and give a springiness to its motion.

This is only a glance at the framework of man. If we look at the skin, the flesh, the muscles, the veins, we shall see the same wise arrangement. I have not time to enlarge here; but I must ask you to look at the wisdom displayed in the arrangement of the muscles.

To every muscle which moves a bone, there is an antagonist, which acts in a different direction. A single muscle would leave the human frame nearly as incapable of action as though it had none at all. There is a muscle to straighten the arm, as well as bend it; one to bring the head to its position after it has been turned; one to open the eye, as well as to shut it. Without this capability of antagonistic action in the different muscles, it would be impossible to stand, to walk, to eat, or, in fact, to maintain, for any length of time, our existence. It must also be noticed, that whenever, in obedience to the will, any particular muscle is called into action, its antagonist immediately relaxes, or the action of both might keep the limb at rest; a flexor and extensor yield as readily and certainly to each other's movement, as the two scales of a balance, or as if they acted by mutual consent.

To perform all the requisite functions, a very large apparatus of muscles is necessary. Those by which voluntary motion is performed, are four hundred and thirty-six. And is it not a most astonishing instance of contrivance, that these muscles should be so placed as not to interfere with each other's motions, and yet to occupy so small a space? They pass over and under each other, they cross each other; in some cases one passes through another, or they change the direction of their power as by a loop or a pulley; or, situated for convenience at a distance, they perform their office by means of a small cordage, where a large muscle could not act.

What a wonderful arrangement! How perfect the physical structure of man!

Now, I ask, to what conclusion are we irresistibly led by this complete mechanism? Be not hasty in giving an answer. Take time to weigh the question in all its bearings. Godwin, and other writers against atheism, infer from it that there is a God of infinite wisdom, and that he is the Creator of man. This inference is unquestionably correct, and one which no atheist can combat with even a semblance of plausibility. So obvious is this inference to which we refer, that any who dispute it have reason to fear that there is some defect in the organization of their mind, or that they are laboring under a species of derange

ment.

But this is not the only inference which can be legitimately drawn from man's physical structure. There is another, equally as important and obvious as this. The Being that has wisdom thus to contrive and adapt means to a desired end, must have