storms, with ice, with currents, with unknown rocks and shoals, with
the vicissitudes of climate, and the terrible and seemingly
miraculous diseases which change of climate engenders. He has had to
fight Nature; and to conquer her, if he could, by understanding her;
by observing facts, and by facing facts. He dared not, like a
scholar in his study, indulge in theories and fancies about how
things ought to be. He had to find out how they really were. He
dared not say, According to my theory of the universe this current
ought to run in such a direction; he had to find out which way it did
actually run, according to God's method of the universe, lest it
should run him ashore. Everywhere, I say, and all day long, the
seaman has to observe facts and to use facts, unless he intends to be
drowned; and therefore, so far from being a superstitious man, who
refuses to inquire into facts, but puts vain dreams in their stead,
the sailor is for the most part a very scientific-minded man:
observant, patient, accurate, truthful; conquering Nature, as the
great saying is, because he obeys her.

But if seamen have been forced to be scientific, they have been
equally forced to be religious. They that go down to the sea in
ships see both the works of the Lord, and also His wonders in the
deep. They see God's works, regular, orderly, the same year by year,
voyage by voyage, and tide by tide; and they learn the laws of them,
and are so far safe. But they also see God's wonders--strange,
sudden, astonishing dangers, which have, no doubt, their laws, but
none which man has found out as yet. Over them they cannot reason
and foretell; they can only pray and trust. With all their
knowledge, they have still plenty of ignorance; and therefore, with
all their science, they have still room for religion. Is there an
old man in this church who has sailed the seas for many a year, who