Looking away from our solar system, we find that each star is a sun, in
most instances the center of a group of worlds. So, for the lack of a
better phrase, we shall say that there are millions of solar systems
distributed through limitless space, each one serving its part in the
great universal plan.

For what purpose are all these immense worlds shining and swinging in
the depths of immensity? Could it be possible that they are nothing more
than vast pieces of dead machinery, barren of all vegetable growth and
intelligent life, whereon desolation and solitude forever prevail?

Our own Earth is inhabited by a large variety of living forms ranging
from the microscopic bacteria and animalcula to the glorious form of man
with all his superior endowments. The air, earth and water are teeming
with their billions of sensitive creatures; even a breath of air, a drop
of water, or a leaf on a tree often contains a miniature world of living
forms.

Amidst all this confusing animation around us, is it not absurd to
suppose that other worlds, larger or smaller than our own, are barren of
all life, and that from them no songs of thanksgiving ever arise to the
Maker and Ruler of all things?

Such a supposition not only gives us a strange view of the character and
attributes of God, but is at once repulsive to our instincts; anyone
wishing to accept it may do so, but as for me and for a large company of
my kind, we prefer to give a larger meaning to creation and a higher
glory to the Creator.

Let no one doubt that the universe is full of intelligent life, in