with the great strokes of
Providence in the conduct of the whole world during a long
succession of ages. There is nothing but the whole that is
intelligible; and the whole is too vast and immense to be seen at
close view. Every event is like a particular character that is too
large for our narrow organs, and which signifies nothing of itself
and separate from the rest. When, at the consummation of ages, we
shall see in God--that is, in the true point and centre of
perspective--the total of human events, from the first to the last
day of the universe, together with their proportions with regard to
the designs of God, we shall cry out, "Lord, Thou alone art just and
wise!" We cannot rightly judge of the works of men but by examining
the whole. Every part ought not to have every perfection, but only
such as becomes it according to the order and proportion of the
different parts that compose the whole. In a human body, for
instance, all the members must not be eyes, for there must be hands,
feet, &c. So in the universe, there must be a sun for the day, but
there must be also a moon for the night. Nec tibi occurrit perfecta
universitas, nisi ubi majora sic praesto sunt, ut minora non desint.
This is the judgment we ought to make of every part with respect to
the whole. Any other view is narrow and deceitful. But what are
the weak and puny designs of men, if compared to that of the
creation and government of the universe? "As much as the heavens
are above the earth, as much," says God in the Holy Writ, "are My
ways and My thoughts above yours." Let, therefore, man admire what
he understands, and be silent about what he does not comprehend.
But, after all, even the real defects of this work are only
imperfections which God was pleased to leave in it, to put us in
mind that He drew and made it from nothing. There is not anything
in the universe but what does and ought equally to bear these two
opposite characters: on the one side, the seal or stamp of the
artificer upon his work, and, on the other, the mark of its original
nothing, into which it may relapse and dwindle every moment. It is
an incomprehensible mixture of low and great; of frailty in the
matter, and of art in the maker? The hand of God is conspicuous in
everything, even in a worm that crawls on earth. Nothingness, on
the other hand, appears everywhere, even in the most vast and most
sublime genius. Whatever is not God, can have but a stinted
per