But it is of science as an educator that the words I have to speak this afternoon are to be directed. I am sure nature has another aspect than that of a mere servitor, and is a material educator. So science has another aspect than that of adding to our mere material and bodily comfort. Science ministers also to our intellect and our spirit, like literature. I shall not undertake to put these in the balance, each over against the other, and see which is the better of the two. Now, it is scarcely necessary for me to point this to you who are pursuing both literature and science, that both of these develop the mind. Science as well as literature develops the soul and the spirit of man, the inner life. Science is teaching us to observe. It is teaching us other things, but that is all I wish to say to you this afternoon. It is teaching us to observe—how to use our eyes. It is astonishing how many men and women there are in this world who do not know how to use their eyes. Science is making us observant of the minuter as well as of the grander of God’s works. The motto of the C. L. S. C. stands on the wall before you, “We study the Word and the Works of God.” The word written in man’s heart, that literature opens to us; the works that are written on all nature, that science opens to us.
I go out for a walk on the Catskills; I look off, I see the view, the trees, the June aspect. But there is a scientist who walks by my side. He points out to me the little scratches in the rock, and tells me it is the path of the glacier, that here where I am walking the glacier in the centuries long gone by made its march, and that there were higher mountains here then than now, and there was a sea in the valley below, and here are the marks, the footprints of it. He takes his hammer, breaks a rock, and points out to me a trilobite. He tells me that all these rocks are rich in the remains of animal life, they are filled with the remains of those animals which have disappeared. He is seeing what I did not see, what I did not know, he has learned to use his eyes, he is teaching me that I am as one who, having eyes, sees not.
One does not need great apparatus to become in some small measure at least, a scientific observer. I was brought up as a boy to think, whether my teacher’s fault or my own I do not know, that the only use of my eyes was to read books, and I read them. But the great book in the midst of which I was living I never read. I know of some boys in my home who have furnished themselves with some naturalists’ pins, some cork, one of those boxes of drawers made to hold spools such as you see in any dry goods store, and which you can get for a “thank you;” they have provided themselves with a pole and a net, and now, when they go out into the woods, it is not for frolic, or waste of time. They see a bug or butterfly, they out with the pole and catch it. They are filling a museum. When they catch their butterfly, they come home with more questions about him, where he comes from, than I can answer. Whether their museum comes to much or not I do not care. They are learning to read that literature that comes before all books, the literature that God has written in the clouds, in the rocks, in the mountains, and in the flying things.
But science teaches us more than that. It teaches us not merely to observe with our eyes, but with our inward nature. We do not simply see works. “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof.” You do not know a library because you know the names of the books that are printed on the backs of them, and you have not begun to know science because you have begun to gather a few isolated facts out of the heaven above, or the rocks beneath, or the trees. Not until you have learned what is in the books do you know literature; not until you know what is the truth that lies behind nature and palpitates within it, do you know science.
The crown that is upon the brow of science is composed of stars, every one of which is a star from God’s own heavens, and the hieroglyphic roll she has in her hands, which we strive to read, is God’s own words, no less than the printed book, from which we study of his word and his works. Science and religion stand at the door of God’s great temple, beckoning with one hand to those who stand without, and with the other pointing to Him who sits upon the throne within.
Dr. Vincent then read the following letter from Counselor Gibson, of England:
London, 15th July, 1884.
My Dear Fellow Students:—The pressure of engagements, which is usually at its height in the month of May, and begins to relax as June advances, has this year continued much longer than usual, and threatens now to traverse the month of July; but I must not again disappoint my dear brother, Dr. Vincent, by postponing my letter till too late, as I unhappily did last year, for which I ask his pardon, and yours.
I congratulate you, with all my heart, on the work of the year, and on the wonderful growth of our Circle. How speedily has the little one become a thousand, and many thousands!