"
If we find beauty thus depicted in the inanimate, how much greater
will be our admiration in the contemplation of animate creation? If
we descend into the depths of the ocean we shall find it teeming with
life, from the sponge that clings to the rock, to the mighty leviathan
that sports amid the bounding billows.
Or search we the air, we find it peopled with myriads of floating
insects, on silken wings, each moving in its own little sphere, and
then passing away. The spotted butterfly, that flits through the air,
on fairy wing, or rests its downy pinions on the bosom of the fragrant
rose; the bird that carols on the spray, or warbles sweetly through
the air; the mountain bee, that comes humming round the summer
flower, sipping its store of sweets, and even the drowsy hum of the
summer-fly, as it floats in mazy circles, are all connecting links in
nature's chain.
But where shall we stop? the spider, the cricket, the beetle, the
glow-worm, with his feeble lamp, the firefly that flies twinkling
through the air all the "midsummer night," and every beast that roams
the field, whether wild or tame, all--all have their proper sphere,
and are in proper order.
But we have still to contemplate the most beautiful piece of
mechanism, of nature's plastic hand, in the formation of man, for
whose convenience and use, all things else seem created. A careless
observer looks upon man, and sees in the general outline a beautiful
piece of mechanism, moving in grace and dignity, and standing in an
exalted position upon the earth.
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