Do we take God's existence for granted? Certainly not. We believe it to be a fact proved beyond any other. To the candid mind, not diseased with cavilling, but honestly rational, the existence of a work proves the existence of a worker, a design necessitates a designer, a forethought involves a fore-thinker. Now if we were even in a desert with Mungo Park, a bit of moss would be argument enough that God was there: or for the matter of that, the sand under our feet, and the sun above our heads, would suffice to prove that fact. But dwelling on a fair island, teeming with all manner of life, we may count as many proofs of the Godhead as there are objects of sight, and hearing, and taste, and smell. This, of course, is called "a mere platitude"; but, by the gentleman's leave, his Latin word makes no difference to the absolute certainty of the argument.
If more proofs were offered, they would no doubt be blocked in the same captious manner: but contemptuous epithets are no replies to fair reasoning. We conceive that one sound proof is better than twenty faulty ones; and if that one does not convince, neither would a legion. The French savants, en route for Egypt, pestered Napoleon with their denials of a God, but his astute intellect was not led astray. He took them upon deck, and, pointing to the stars, he demanded, "Who made all these?"