“Of old,” he exclaims, “hast Thou laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the work of Thy hands.  They shall perish, but Thou shalt endure; yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; as a vesture shalt Thou change them and they shall be changed; but Thou art the same, and Thy years shall have no end.” {135a}

I know not what theologians may think of this passage, but from a scientific point of view it is unassailable.  So again, “O Lord,” he exclaims, “Thou hast searched me out, and known me:  Thou knowest my down-sitting and mine up-rising; Thou understandest my thoughts long before.  Thou art about my path, and about my bed:  and spiest out all my ways.  For lo, there is not a word in my tongue but Thou, O Lord, knowest it altogether . . .  Whither shall I go, then, from Thy Spirit?  Or whither shall I go, then, from Thy presence?  If I climb up into heaven Thou art there:  if I go down to hell, Thou art there also.  If I take the wings of the morning, and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there also shall Thy hand lead me and Thy right hand shall hold me.  If I say, Peradventure the darkness shall cover me, then shall my night be turned to day.  Yea, the darkness is no darkness with Thee, but . . . the darkness and light to Thee are both alike.” {136a}

What convention or short cut can symbolise for us the results of laboured and complicated chains of reasoning or bring them more aptly and concisely home to us than the one supplied long since by the word God?  What can approach more nearly to a rendering of that which cannot be rendered—­the idea of an essence omnipresent in all things at all times everywhere in sky and earth and sea; ever changing, yet the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever; the ineffable contradiction in terms whose presence none can either ever enter, or ever escape?  Or rather, what convention would have been more apt if it had not been lost sight of as a convention and come to be regarded as an idea in actual correspondence with a more or less knowable reality?  A convention was converted into a fetish, and now that its worthlessness as a fetish is being generally felt, its great value as a hieroglyph or convention is in danger of being lost sight of.  No doubt the psalmist was seeking for Sir William Grove’s conception, if haply he might feel after it and find it, and assuredly it is not far from every one of us.  But the course of true philosophy never did run smooth; no sooner have we fairly grasped the conception of a single eternal and for ever unknowable underlying substance, then we are faced by mind and matter.  Long-standing ideas and current language alike lead us to see these as distinct things—­mind being still commonly regarded as something that acts on body from without as the wind blows upon a leaf, and as no less an actual entity than the body.  Neither body nor mind seems less essential to our existence than the other; not only do we feel this as regards our own existence, but we feel it also as pervading the whole world of life; everywhere we see body and mind working together towards results that must be ascribed equally to both; but they are two, not one; if, then, we are to have our monistic conception, it would seem as though one of these must yield to the other; which, therefore, is it to be?