of human faces, the hundreds of different things and places, which
you can recollect; and then consider that all those different
pictures are lying, as it were, over each other in hundreds in that
small place, your brain, for the most part without interfering with,
or rubbing out each other, each ready to be called up, recollected,
and used in its turn.

If this is not wonderful, what is? So wonderful, that no man knows,
or, I think, ever will know, how it comes to pass. How the eye
tells the brain of the picture which is drawn upon the back of the
eve--how the brain calls up that picture when it likes--these are
two mysteries beyond all man's wisdom to explain. These are two
proofs of the wisdom and the power of God, which ought to sink
deeper into our hearts than all signs and wonders;--greater proofs
of God's power and wisdom, than if yon fir-trees burst into flame of
themselves, or yon ground opened, and a fountain of water sprung
out. Most people think much of signs and wonders. Just in
proportion as they have no real faith in God, just in proportion as
they forget God, and will not see that he is about their path, and
about their bed, and spying out all their ways, they are like those
godless Scribes and Pharisees of old, who must have signs and
wonders before they would believe. So it is: the commonest things
are as wonderful, more wonderful, than the uncommon; and yet, people
will hanker after the uncommon, as if they belonged to God more
immediately than the commonest matters.

If yon trees burst out in flame; if yon hill opened, and a fountain
sprang up, how many would cry, 'How awful! How wonderful! Here is
a sign that God is near us! It is time to think about our souls
now! Perhaps the end of the world is at hand!' And all the while