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Observing the effect of this discourse upon my young hearers, I felt disposed to continue it, and asked Doubtful, if he knew how a bean-stalk was produced, (for I still adopted the language of Careless,) "Yes, said he, "a bean is first put i’ the ground, then it’s watered bie the rain, and the heat o’ the sun makes it sprout up an’ get ripe." "But who made the earth, the rain, and the sun?" rejoined I. He was silent, but his speechless eloquence plainly evinced that he understood my meaning: so I went on, "Yes, David, the earth, the rain, and the sun, have all their several uses in the production of vegetables; but neither the earth, which receives the seed into its bosom, and covereth it as a garment; the clouds, which drop down fatness, and refresh the earth; nor the sun, winch warmeth and fructifieth it by his beams, made themselves! All these causes must have had a cause, and the great primary first cause of all, we call—God!"
"By these observations on a bean-stalk, you see, my young friends, that there is no need for waiting on the loud roaring thunder, and vivid lightning, to convince the unbeliever that there is a God—No! the mild and silent, as well as the rough and boisterous operations of nature, speak forth the existence of a Deity, and challenge our praise, and there is not a spot, however remote, but where the most incontrovertible proofs of Divinity may be distinctly traced and pointed out; 'for whither,' in the beautiful language of the Psalmist, 'shall we go from his Spirit, or whither shall we flee from his presence?"
