vegetable life as that no human mind can form the faintest
approach to anything that can be called a conception of their
multitude, and let him remember that all these forms have touched
and touched and touched other living beings till they meet back
on a common substance in which they are rooted, and from which
they all branch forth so as to be one animal. Will he not in this
real and tangible existence find a God who is as much more worthy
of admiration than the God of the ordinary Theologian-as He is
also more easy of comprehension?

For the Theologian dreams of a God sitting above the clouds among
the cherubim, who blow their loud uplifted angel trumpets before
Him, and humour [sic] Him as though He were some despot in an
Oriental tale; but we enthrone Him upon the wings of birds, on
the petals of flowers, on the faces of our friends, and upon
whatever we most delight in of all that lives upon the earth. We
then can not only love Him, but we can do that without which love
has neither power nor sweetness, but is a phantom only, an
impersonal person, a vain stretching forth of arms towards
something that can never fill them-we can express our love and
have it expressed to us in return. And this not in the uprearing
of stone temples-for the Lord dwelleth [sic] in temples made with
other organs than hands-nor yet in the cleansing of our hearts,
but in the caress bestowed upon horse and dog, and kisses upon
the lips of those we love.

Wide, however, as is the difference between the orthodox
Theologian and ourselves, it is not more remarkable than the
number of the points on which we can agree with him, and on
which, moreover, we can make his meaning clearer to himself than