a religion of some sort was necessary to mankind, and that the important part of the office of that religion was not to make men believe certain things, but to make men do certain things. He wanted a religion; and as he had given up the Revelation and could not bring himself back to it, he—if I may use that expression—proceeded to reveal a religion of his own to himself. He put down a creed and a liturgy in writing for his own use. His creed consisted in a profession of belief in the existence of one Supreme and most perfect Being, author and father of the gods themselves. These gods he conceived to be intermediate between the Supreme Being and man, each of them controlling a solar system. And to this ruler of our solar system, our particular God, he addressed his worship. His scheme of worship or liturgy consisted mainly of an “adoration,” praising God as the Creator, the all-wise and all-good,—and then a “petition” resembling the litanies of the Episcopalian prayer book, praying God to aid him in being good and in doing good to others. All this he wrote down in a neat little prayer book for his own use, which is said to be still in existence.
This creed, except the fantastic conception of the intermediate gods, he adhered to substantially through life. As an old man he wrote in his autobiography:
I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian; and though some of the dogmas of that persuasion appeared to me unintelligible, others doubtful, I never was without some religious principles. I never doubted, for instance, the existence of a Deity; that He made the world and governed it by His Providence; that the most acceptable service of God was the doing good to man; that our souls are immortal, and that all crime will be punished and virtue rewarded, either here or hereafter. These I esteemed the essentials of every religion; and to be found in all the religions we had in this country. I respected them all, though with different degrees
