Here, on this earth on which we dwell, the sky does not cease to be friendly, nor the trees, in their proper season, to shoot forth branches, nor the vines to bud and bring their reviving fruits to perfection, nor the boughs to hang down with ripe berries, nor the corn to yield its expected increase; but all things flourish, the springs are continually running, and the fields are clothed with grass. And then, if we consider what a multitude there is of cattle, partly for food, partly for carrying, and partly for clothing our bodies; and the nature of man himself, who seems to be formed for contemplating heaven and the gods, and to adore and worship them, and that the whole earth and sea lie open for his use; when we see and consider these, and innumerable other things, can we doubt whether there is a Superior Being, who is either the Creator of these things, if they were indeed created, as Plato thinks; or, if they always were, as Aristotle supposes, who is the Manager and Disposer of so great a work and charge.


If we hearken to the voice of the world, we shall hear it say nothing but God hath made me.