Thus have we seen that God knows man altogether,--that He knows all that
man knows of himself, and all that man might but does not yet know of
himself. The Searcher of hearts knows all the thoughts that we have
thought upon, all the reflections that we have reflected upon, all the
experience that we have ourselves analyzed and inspected. And He also
knows that far larger part of our life which we have not yet subjected to
the scrutiny of self-examination,--all those thoughts, feelings, desires,
and motives, innumerable as they are, of which we took no heed at the
time of their origin and existence, and which we suppose, perhaps, we
shall hear no more of again. Whither then shall we go from God's spirit?
or whither shall we flee from His presence and His knowledge? If we
ascend up into heaven, He is there, and knows us perfectly. If we make
our bed in hell, behold He is there, and reads the secret thoughts and
feelings of our heart. The darkness hideth not from Him; our ignorance
does not affect His knowledge; the night shineth as the day; the darkness
and the light are both alike to Him.

This great truth which we have been considering obtains a yet more
serious emphasis, and a yet more solemn power over the mind, when we take
into view the _character_ of the Being who thus searches our hearts, and
is acquainted with all our ways. Who of us would not be filled with
uneasiness, if he knew that an imperfect fellow-creature were looking
constantly into his soul? Would not the flush of shame often burn upon
our cheek, if we knew that a sinful man like ourselves were watching all
the feelings and thoughts that are rising within us? Should we not be
more circumspect than we are, if men were able mutually to search each
other's hearts? How often does a man change his course of conduct, when
he discovers, accidentally, that his neighbor knows what he is doing.