Reason Why — Chapter 51 Part 2

We have endeavoured, by the employment of the simplest language, and by reference to some of the most familiar phenomena of nature, to impart to the reader a clear conception of those sublime laws which control our being, and afford evidence of the goodness and power of that Almighty God to whom we are indebted for the life that we enjoy, and the varied and beautiful existences which, to the rightly constituted mind, make the earth a vast aggregation of interesting objects.

We will now, before we pass on to the final section of our work, review some of the more important facts that have been communicated, and devote a few pages to meditations upon the formation of the human body--that wonderful temple of which each of us is a tenant.

We have described man's organisation.

What is that organisation for?

_It is to make use of the elements upon which man exists.

_ The lungs make use of the air; the eye makes use of the light;

the stomach, and the system generally, make use of water; every part of the body uses heat; and all parts of the system demand food.

The hand feeds as constantly as the mouth.

The mouth is the receptacle of food, by which the body is to be fed; the stomach is the kitchen in which food is prepared for the use of the body; and the blood-vessels are the canals through which the food is sent to those members of the body that are in need of it.

When we speak of man's "organs" or "members," we speak of those parts of the living machinery by which the elements are used up, or employed, for man's benefit.

And this view of the subject, bearing in mind that the body is held together as the temple of a living Spirit, superior to mere flesh and blood, gives us a higher and clearer perception of the distinction between the body and the soul than that which we might otherwise entertain.

The body is a machine, working for the spirit, which is its owner.

While the machine works, the spirit directs and influences its actions.

But when the machine stops, the spirit resigns its power over a ruined temple, quits it, and flies to a region where, as a spirit, it becomes subject to a new order of existence consistent with its severance from earthly things and laws, and there it enters upon its eternal destiny, according to the judgments and appointments of God.

It is no longer dependent upon a relation between spiritual and material laws.

[Verse: "Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake."

--PSALM CXV.

] Suppose that the air which man breathes, instead of returning from his lungs clear and imperceptible to sight, were tinged with colour; we should see, that every time a man breathed, the air would rush in a stream into his mouth, and then return again;

and the air which returned would, being warm, be lighter than the outer air, and would rise upward over the man's head, where, cooling and mingling with the outer air, it would descend again.

We do, in fact, see this action evidenced; when in winter time the cold condenses the vapour of the breath, we see the little cloud constantly rising before the breather's face, and dispersing in the surrounding air.

Is it not a wonderful thing that that clear and elastic substance, which you cannot feel, though it touches every part of your body, and which you cannot see, is composed of two distinct bodies, having very different properties; and that the two bodies can easily be separated from each other?

Air is of the first importance to life.

Hence it is provided for us everywhere.

We require air every second, water every few hours, and food at intervals considerably apart.

Air is therefore provided for us everywhere.

Whether we stand or sit; whether we dwell in a valley or upon a mountain; whether we go into the cellar under our house, or into the garret at the top of it, air is there provided for us.

God, who made it a law that man should breathe to live, also sent him air abundantly, that he might comply with that law.

And all that is required from man in this respect is, that he will not shut out God's bounty, but receive it freely.

As we have employed the idea that if the air were coloured we should have the opportunity of marking the process of breathing, let us enlarge upon this, and suppose that every time the air were returned from the lungs it became of a darker colour, the darkness denoting increasing impurity.

If we placed a man in a room full of pure air, we should see the air enter his lungs, and sent back slightly tinged; but this would disperse itself with the other air of the room and scarcely be perceptible.

As the man continued to breathe, however, each measure of air returning from the lungs would serve to pollute that abiding in the room, until at last the whole mass would become cloudy and discoloured, and we should see such a change as occurs when water is turned from a pure and clear state into a muddy condition.

The air does become polluted with each respiration, and although it is colourless, it is as impure as if with every breath given off from the lungs it became of a dark colour in proportion to its impurity.

Thus we see how important it is that we should provide ourselves with pure air; and that, in seeking warmth and comfort in our houses, we should provide an adequate supply of fresh atmosphere--because it is more vital to life than either water or food.

Indeed, so constant is our requirement of air, that _if we had to fetch it, for purposes of breathing, or simply to raise it to our mouths, as we do water when we drink, it would be the sole occupation of our lives_--_we could do nothing else_.

For this reason, God has sent the air to us, and not required us to go to the air.

And the great error of man is, that in too many instances, he shuts off the supply from himself, and brings on disease and pain by inhaling a poisonous compound, instead of air of a healthful kind, which bears an adaptation to the wants of life.

[Verse: "There is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body."

--I

CORINTHIANS XV.

] Whilst the rooms of our house are filled with air, it is otherwise with water, which we require in less degree than air.

If we have not the artificial means by which water is brought to our houses, through the pipes of a water company, there is a spring or a pump in the garden; or in the absence of these, a good sound cask, standing at the end of our house, forming a receptacle to the water-pipes that surround it, provides us with a supply of water distilled from the clouds.

If we were to drink a good draught of water once a day, that would be sufficient for all the purposes of life, as far as regards the alimentary uses of water.

Man is, therefore, allowed to go to the stream for his drink, and is required to raise it to his lips at those moments when he uses it.

Although, in breathing, man separates the _oxygen_ of the air from the _nitrogen_ thereof, he does not separate the _oxygen_ of the water from the _hydrogen_.

Water, in fact, undergoes no change in the body, excepting that of admixture with the substances of the body.

And its uses are, to moisten, to cool, to cleanse, and also to nourish the parts with which it comes in contact.

But it affords no nourishment of itself; it mixes with the blood, of which it forms a material part, and is the means of conveying _the nourishment of the blood_ to every part of the system.

After it has filled this office, and taken up impurities that are required to be removed, it is cast out of the system again, without undergoing any chemical change.

Man's body is to his Soul, in many respects, what a house is to its occupant.

But how superior is the dwelling which God erected, to that which man has built.

Reader, come out of yourself, and in imagination realise the abstraction of the Soul from the body.

Make an effort of thought, and do not relinquish that effort, until you fancy that you see your image seated on a chair before you.

And now proceed to ask yourself certain questions respecting your bodily tenement--questions which, perchance, have never occurred to you before; but which will impress themselves the more forcibly upon you, in proportion as you realise for a moment the idea of your Soul examining the body which it inhabits.

There sits before you a form of exquisite proportions, with reference to the mode of life it has to pursue--the wants of the Soul for which it has to care, and which it has to guard, under the direction of that Soul, its owner and master.