him who enters upon its study in a reverent spirit.  It affords the purest intellectual gratification only when its pursuits are undertaken with a humble acknowledgment of the littleness of man and the greatness of God.  Half the wonder, half the mystery of creation is lost, when we fail to recognize the truth that it is governed by eternal laws springing from an Almighty Intelligence.  Take the Creator out of creation, and it becomes a hopeless puzzle—­a dreary problem, incapable of solution.  But we restore to it all its brightness, all its beauty, all its charm, when we are able to lift up our hearts with the Psalmist and to say:  “Praise ye the Lord.  Praise ye the Lord from the heavens; praise him in the heights.  Praise ye him, sun and moon:  praise him, all ye stars of light.  Let them praise the name of the Lord:  for his name alone is excellent:  his glory is above the earth and heaven.”

And it is to be observed that the soul cannot be satisfied without this religious view of Nature.  The heavens and the earth are as nothing to man, if they do not excite his awe and call forth his thanksgiving.  We might almost suppose that it is for this purpose that the sea rolls its waves on the shore, and the violet smiles by the wayside, and the moon floods the night with its silver radiance.  As a recent writer has observed,[1] the beauty of Nature is necessary for the perfection of praise; without it the praise of the Creator would be essentially weakened; our hearts must be roused and excited by what we see.  “It may seem extraordinary,” adds our authority, “but it is the case, that, though we certainly look at contrivance or machinery in Nature with a high admiration, still, with all its countless and multitudinous uses, which we acknowledge with gratitude, there is nothing in it which raises the mind’s interest in nearly the same degree that beauty does.  It is an awakening sight; and one way in which it acts is by exciting a certain curiosity about the Deity.  In what does God possess character, feelings, relations to us?—­all unanswerable questions, but the very entertainment of which is an excitement of the reason, and throws us upon the thought of what there is behind the veil.  This curiosity is a strong part of worship and of praise.  To think that we know everything about God, is to benumb and deaden worship; but mystical thought quickens worship, and the beauty of Nature raises mystical thought.  So long as a man is probing Nature, and in the thick of its causes and operations, he is too busy about his own inquiries to receive this impress from her; but place the picture before him, and he becomes conscious of a veil and curtain which has the secrets of a moral existence behind it,—­interest is inspired, curiosity is awakened, and worship is raised.  ’Surely thou art a God that hidest thyself.’  But if God simply hid himself and nothing more, if we knew nothing, we should not wish to know more.  But the veil suggests that it is a veil, and that there is something behind it which it conceals.”