HORIZON LINES 



vital machinery going, my secretions and my ex- 

 cretions, my lungs to lay hold of the air and purify 

 the blood, my liver and kidneys to eliminate the 

 poisons and effete matter, my marvelous diges- 

 tive system to furnish the fuel that generates the 

 physical power, and, more than all these things, 

 that looked after my germ in the old Cambrian 

 seas and brought it safely down through the haz- 

 ards of the long road of evolution and developed 

 it and made me a man, and gave me the capacity 

 to contemplate and enjoy this amazing universe — 

 the power or the blind force or the law of chance, 

 I say, that could do all this is god enough for me. I 

 want no other. 



Do we expect to see the Natural Providence at 

 work as we see man at work? Nature works from the 

 inside. In the human sphere there is a maker and a 

 thing made. Not so in the universe. Things are in 

 their place without being made. Our concepts of the 

 beginning and the end do not apply to them. The 

 words "chance" and "design" are born of our lim- 

 ited knowledge. 



That man or an ant or a leaf or a flower could re- 

 sult from the haphazard jostling together of the 

 molecules of matter, or the units of force, is un- 

 thinkable. Could one get an intelligent sentence, or 

 one's own name, by putting the letters of the print- 

 er's type in a hat and shaking them up till the crack 

 of doom? — an old and trite comparison, but it 



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