I Believe in God

In the rainless, smokeless air, the temples, public buildings, and statues of Athens must have stood out in clear-cut beauty, as the Apostle rose to make his defence before the most cultured and critical audience of the age. The faces which met his were not only exquisitely chiselled by nature, but were refined by habitual contemplation of the highest themes that can engage the heart of man. They, however, confessed themselves Agnostic as to the Existence and Nature of the Supreme Being. The altar which he had espied among many others testified to this. The inscription which it bore upon its face contained that word. The contrast was therefore the more startling when the stranger, whose disputations in the Agora had aroused so much interest, opened his address by saying: Whom ye worship, without knowing, Him I declare unto you — God that made the world and all things therein.

It is a noble position for any man to take up and maintain in a world of agnostics. It is a great thing to be able to say, I believe in God.

That magnificent affirmation can only be made by a reverent, thoughtful, pure-hearted soul, whose windows stand open to the Infinite. Nature cannot say it. Like a mirror she can flash the Glory of God from world to world, as birds pass their morning carol from tree to tree, but she cannot say, I believe in God. The brute creatures may recognise their owners and “their master’s crib,” but they cannot say, We believe tn God. The idiot and the sensualist are alike excluded from the grandeur of these words. It needs manhood, intelligence, sobriety, self-control, reverence, before the heart can inspire, and the lips utter, the first clause of the Creed, I believe in God.

Obviously the grounds on which this affirmation rests differ widely from those on which students of nature are wont to rest their arguments. They use the hammer, crucible, or chemical test, the scalpel or microscope, which convey their message immediately to the senses of sight, touch, or taste. But the existence and nearness of God cannot be proved to human sense. “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard.”’ He cannot be unveiled to the eye; nor touched by the hand reached out to feel Him in the dark; nor inhaled as a scent or breath. To ail these tests He is as impalpable as the love of your most intimate and devoted friendship. The Being of God is only apprehended by the spirit of man, which is probably endowed with senses which correspond to those of the body. It too has its sight, its touch, its hearing, and its taste; to which, when they are awake, and not drenched by materialism and sensuality, it is as easy to demonstrate the Being of God as the existence of matter. ‘“‘ The spiritual man discerneth all things, though he himself is discerned of no man.” Clean and uncurtain the windows of your inner life. Cease to do evil, learn to do well. Be absolutely true to your highest ideals. If the Dawn is not yet on the sky, yet face the east, and as certainly as you seek you shail find. The light of the glory of God will break on you. “He that is of the Truth heareth My voice.”

It will come to you thus: If there be a God, He must be a Thinker; the universe is everywhere full of thought; and on your heart and mind thoughts will steal of purity and wide horizons, and lofty inspirations. If there be a God, He must be Full of Force and Energy; the worlds bear witness to the Presence of some mysterious pressure behind them, urging them forward; and through your being, you will become aware of the thrill of His energy. If there be a God, He must be Love; for this is universally diffused in lower and higher forms amongst His creatures, and if you are still you will experience in moments of depression, and penitence, the wafting of a warm breeze of tenderness across your weary, fevered spirit. If there be a God, He must be Truth; for the heart of man bears witness to this as its highest attribute, and it is impossible that what is so prominent in man can be deficient in Him who is postulated as the origin and source; and you may verify this, as you listen to the voice which expostulates within you against all that is base and false and mean. Thus each man carries within His own heart the means by which He can verify the existence of God, so that for himself and by the exercise of his own faculties, he may be able to say, I believe in God.

It fell to my lot the other morning to cross Westminster Bridge, as the dawn was breaking over the noble forms of the buildings which line the river-front. Before me lay the Houses of Parliament, the venerable Abbey, and the long array of the Embankment carrying the eye to the Dome of St. Paul’s rising out of the morning haze. Beside me was St. Thomas’ Hospital. I had hardly passed it, when I became conscious of an unwonted sound — the lapping of the Thames against the steps. I had never heard it before, because never before had I crossed the bridge when the noise of the traffic was hushed. So is it with the soul. Amid life’s busy rush, we cannot hear the inner whisper which attests the Being of God: but when the day is done, the stars glimmer out; when feet cease to trample the forest, squirrels, rabbits, and birds reveal their presence; when the heart is hushed, a voice is heard crying, I believe in God.