"Why, I mean, father, a religion of gloomy forms and notions, that have no tendency to make men good and happy, either in themselves or to others."
"So then, my son, you make man's happiness the end of religion."
"Certainly I do, father."
"Our catechisms, Ben, make God's glory the end of religion."
"That amounts to the same thing, father; as the framers of the catechisms, I suppose, placed God's glory in the happiness of man."
"But why do you suppose that so readily, Ben?"
"Because, father, all wise workmen place their glory in the perfection of their works. The gunsmith glories in his rifle, when she never misses her aim; the clockmaker glories in his clock when she tells the time exactly. They thus glory, because their works answer the ends for which they were made. Now God, who is wiser than all workmen, had, no doubt, his ends in making man. But certainly he could not have made him with a view of getting any thing from him, seeing man has nothing to give. And as God, from his own infinite riches, has a boundless power to give; and from his infinite benevolence, must have an equal delight in giving, I can see no end so likely for his making man as to make him happy. I think, father, all this looks quite reasonable."
"Why, yes, to be sure, Ben, it does look very reasonable indeed."
"Well then, father, since all wise workmen glory in their works when they answer the ends for which they designed them, God must glory in the happiness of man, that being the end for which he made him."
"This seems, indeed, Ben, to be perfectly agreeable to reason."