Josiah. No, Mr. Alcott; a little baby does not worship. It opens its eyes on the outward world, and sees things, and perhaps wonders what they are; but it don't know anything about them or itself. It don't know the uses of anything; there is no worship in it.
Mr. Alcott. But in this feeling of wonder and admiration which it has, is there not the beginning of worship that will at last find its object?
Josiah. No; there is not even the beginning of worship. It must have some temptation, I think, before it can know the thing to worship.
Mr. Alcott. But is there not a feeling that comes up from within, to answer to the things that come to the eyes and ears?
Josiah. But feeling is not worship, Mr. Alcott.
Mr. Alcott. Can there be worship without feeling?
Josiah. No; but there can be feeling without worship. For instance, if I prick my hand with a pin, I feel, to be sure, but I do not worship.
Mr. Alcott. That is bodily feeling. But may not the little infant find its power to worship in the feeling which is first only admiration of what is without.
Josiah. No, no; I know what surprise is, and I know what admiration is; and perhaps the little creature feels that. But she does not know enough to know that she has conscience, or that there is temptation. My little sister feels, and she knows some things; but she does not worship.
Mr. Alcott. Now I wish you all to think. What have we been talking about to-day?