They lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world, Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands, Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands, Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands.

And praying hands.  Oh, my friends, is not the question of all questions for such poor mortal souls as you and me, beset by ignorance and weakness, and passions which are our own worst enemies, and chances and catastrophes which we cannot avert—­Is not the question of all questions for such as us—­Will this same Word of God—­will any unseen being out of the infinite void which surrounds our little speck of a planet, take any notice of our praying hands?  Will He hear us, teach us, when we cry?  Or is God, and The Word of God, like those old heathen gods?  Is He a God who hides Himself, and leaves us to despair and chance:  or is He a God who hears, and gives us even a single ray of hope?  Is He a gracious God, who will hear every man’s tale, however clumsily told, and judge it according to its merits:  or even—­for that is better than dead silence and carelessness—­according to its demerits?  Is He a just God?  Or has He likes and dislikes, favourites and victims; as human rulers and statesmen, and human parties too, and mobs, are wont to have?  May He not, even, like those Epicurean gods, despise men? find a proud satisfaction in deceiving them; or at least letting them deceive themselves?—­in playing with their ignorance, and leaving them to reap the fruits of their own childishness?

To that the Psalmist answers—­and I know not how he learnt to answer so, save by the inspiration of the Spirit of God; for I know well that neither flesh and blood, the experience of his own brain, thoughts, and emotions, nor the world around him, either of nature or of man, would ever have revealed that to him—­to that he answers confidently, in spite of all appearances—­

Thy truth, O Lord, abideth from one generation to another.  Thou art a truthful God, a faithful God, whose word can be taken.  A God in whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning; who keepeth His promise for ever; true, as man can be true; and truer than the truest man.  And I know it, says he, by experience.  God has actually taught me His law:  for if my delight had not been in it, I should have perished in my trouble.  I will never forget His commandments; for by them He has given me life; has taught me what to do, and enabled me to do it, to prevent the death and ruin of my body, and soul, and spirit.

Now for the very same reason it is, that St John is so careful, first to tell us that The Word of God made all things; and then to tell us that He is full of grace and truth.

He tells us that The Word made all things, that we may be sure that He is a God of order, because all things which He has made are full of order; a God who acts by rules and laws which we may trust.  He tells us that The Word made all things, that we may be sure that all things, being His handy-work, will bear witness of Him and teach us about Him, and shew forth His glory.