Albert Barnes Commentary Genesis 1

ראשׁית rḕshı̂̂yt—the “head-part, beginning” of a thing, in point of time (Genesis 10:10), or value (Proverbs 1:7). Its opposite is אחרית 'achărı̂̂yth (Isaiah 46:10). בראשׁית rê'shı̂̂yth—“in the beginning,” is always used in reference to time. Only here is it taken absolutely.

ברא bārā'—“create, give being to something new.” It always has God for its subject. Its object may be anything: matter (Genesis 1:1); animal life (Genesis 1:21); spiritual life (Genesis 1:27). Therefore, creation is not confined to a single point of time. Whenever anything absolutely new—that is, not involved in anything previously existing—is called into existence, there is creation (Numbers 16:30). Anything or event may also be said to be created by Him who created the whole system of nature to which it belongs (Malachi 2:10). The verb in its simple form occurs forty-eight times (eleven of which are in Genesis, fourteen in the whole Pentateuch, and twenty-one in Isaiah) and always in one sense.

אלהים 'ĕlohı̂̂ym—“God.” The noun אלוה 'elôah or אלה 'eloah is found in the Hebrew Scriptures fifty-seven times in the singular (two of which are in Deuteronomy, and forty-one in the book of Job), and about three thousand times in the plural (seventeen of which are in Job). The Aramaic form אלה 'elâh occurs about seventy-four times in the singular and ten in the plural. The Hebrew letter ה (h) is proved to be a radical, not only by bearing a mappiq, but also by holding its ground before a formative ending. The Arabic verb, with the same radicals, seems rather to borrow from it than to lend the meaning coluit, “worshipped,” which it sometimes has.

The root probably means to be “lasting, binding, firm, strong.” Therefore, the noun means the Everlasting, and in the plural, the Eternal Powers. It is correctly rendered God, the name of the Eternal and Supreme Being in our language, which perhaps originally meant lord or ruler. And, like this, it is a common or appellative noun. This is shown by its direct use and indirect applications.

Its direct use is either proper or improper, according to the object to which it is applied. Every instance of its proper use clearly establishes its meaning as the Eternal, the Almighty, who is Himself without beginning and has within Himself the power to cause other things, personal and impersonal, to exist. Consequently, He is the sole object of reverence and primary obedience from His intelligent creation.

Its improper use arose from humanity’s lapse into false notions of the object of worship. Many real or imaginary beings came to be regarded as possessing the attributes of Deity and therefore entitled to the reverence belonging to Deity. In consequence, they were called gods by their mistaken devotees and by others who had occasion to speak of them. This usage at once proves it to be a common noun and corroborates its proper meaning. When used in this way, however, it immediately loses most of its inherent grandeur and sometimes dwindles down to the mere notion of the supernatural or the otherworldly. In this manner, it seems to be applied by the witch of Endor to the unexpected apparition that presented itself to her (1 Samuel 28:13).

Its indirect applications point with equal steadiness to this primary and fundamental meaning. Thus, it is used in a relative and well-defined sense to denote one appointed by God to stand in a certain divine relation to another. This relation is that of an authoritative revealer or administrator of the will of God. Thus, we are told (John 10:34) that he called them gods, to whom the word of God came. Thus, Moses became related to Aaron as God to His prophet (Exodus 4:16), and to Pharaoh as God to His creature (Exodus 7:1).

Accordingly, in Psalm 82:6, we find this principle generalized: I had said, gods are you, and sons of the Highest all of you. Here the divine authority vested in Moses is expressly recognized in those who sit in Moses’ seat as judges for God. They exercised a function of God among the people and so were in God’s place to them. Indeed, humans were originally adapted for ruling, being made in the image of God and commanded to have dominion over the inferior creatures. The parent also is in place of God in some respect to his children, and the sovereign holds the relation of patriarch to his subjects.

Still, however, we are not fully warranted in translating אלהים 'ĕlohı̂ym—“judges” in Exodus 21:6; Exodus 22:7–8, Exodus 22:27 (Hebrew versification: verses 8, 9, 28), because an easier, more exact, and impressive sense is obtained from the proper rendering.

The word מלאך m^el'āk—“angel,” as a relative or official term, is sometimes applied to a person of the Godhead, but the process is not reversed. The Septuagint indeed translates אלהים 'ĕlohı̂ym in several instances by ἄγγελοι angeloi (Psalms 8:6; Psalms 97:7; Psalms 138:1). The correctness of this is seemingly supported by the quotations in Hebrews 1:6 and Hebrews 2:7. These, however, do not imply that the renderings are absolutely correct, but only that they are sufficiently so for the writer’s purpose. And it is evident they are sufficient, because the original is a highly imaginative figure in which a class is conceived to exist, though in reality only one of that kind is or can be.

The Septuagint translators, either imagining from the occasional application of the official term “angel” to God that the angelic office somehow or sometimes involved the divine nature, or viewing some of the false gods of the pagans as actual angels, and therefore seemingly wishing to give a literal turn to the figure, substituted the word ἄγγελοι angeloi as an interpretation for אלהים 'ĕlohı̂ym. This free translation was sufficient for the purpose of the inspired author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, since the worship of all angels (Hebrews 1:6) in the Septuagintal sense of the term was that of the highest rank of dignitaries under God. Furthermore, the argument in the latter passage (Hebrews 2:7) turns not on the words, thou madest him a little lower than the angels, but upon the sentence, thou hast put all things under his feet. Moreover, the Septuagint is by no means consistent in this rendering of the word in similar passages (Psalms 97:1; 1 Samuel 28:13).

Regarding the use of the word, it is to be observed that the plural of the Aramaic form is uniformly plural in sense. The English version of בר־אלהין bar-'elâhı̂yn, the Son of God (Daniel 3:25), is the only exception to this. But since it is the phrase of a pagan, the real meaning may be, a son of the gods. In contrast, the plural of the Hebrew form is generally used to denote the one God. The singular form, when applied to the true God, is naturally suggested by the prominent thought of His being the only one. The plural, when so applied, is generally accompanied by singular conjuncts and conveys the predominant conception of a plurality in the one God—a plurality that must be perfectly consistent with His being the only possible one of His kind.

The explanations for this use of the plural—namely, that it is a relic of polytheism, that it indicates the association of angels with the one God in a common or collective designation, and that it expresses the multiplicity of attributes existing in Him—are not satisfactory. All we can say is that it indicates such a plurality in the only one God as makes His nature complete and creation possible. Such a plurality in unity must have dawned upon the mind of Adam. It is afterward, we conceive, definitively revealed in the doctrine of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

שׁמים shāmayı̂m—“skies, heavens,” being the “high” (shamay, “be high,” Arabic) or the “airy” region; the overarching dome of space, with all its revolving orbs.

ארץ 'erets—“land, earth, the low or the hard.” The underlying surface of land.

The verb is in the perfect form, denoting a completed act. The adverbial note of time, “in the beginning,” determines it to belong to the past. To suit our idiom it may, therefore, be strictly rendered “had created.” The skies and the land are the universe divided into its two natural parts by an earthly spectator. The absolute beginning of time and the creation of all things mutually determine each other.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth (Genesis 1:1). This great introductory sentence of the book of God is equal in weight to all of its subsequent communications concerning the kingdom of nature.

Genesis 1:1 assumes the existence of God, for it is He who in the beginning creates. It assumes His eternity, for He is before all things; and since nothing comes from nothing, He Himself must always have been. It implies His omnipotence, for He creates the universe of things. It implies His absolute freedom, for He begins a new course of action. It implies His infinite wisdom, for a κόσμος kosmos—“an order of matter and mind”—can only come from a being of absolute intelligence. It implies His essential goodness, for the Sole, Eternal, Almighty, All-wise, and All-sufficient Being has no reason, no motive, and no capacity for evil. It presumes Him to be beyond all limit of time and place, since He is before all time and place.

It asserts the creation of the heavens and the earth; that is, of the universe of mind and matter. This creating is the omnipotent act of giving existence to things that before had no existence. This is the first great mystery of things, as the end is the second. Natural science observes things as they are, when they have already come into existence. It ascends into the past as far as observation will reach and penetrates into the future as far as experience will guide. But it does not touch the beginning or the end.

This first sentence of revelation, however, records the beginning. At the same time, it involves the progressive development of what is begun and so encompasses all that is revealed in the Book of God. It is thus historical concerning the beginning and prophetical for all of time.

It is, therefore, equivalent to all the rest of revelation taken together, which merely records the evolutions of one sphere of creation and increasingly anticipates the end of present things.

This sentence (Genesis 1:1) assumes the being of God and asserts the beginning of things. Therefore, it intimates that the existence of God is more immediately clear to human reason than the creation of the universe. This is consistent with the philosophy of things, for the existence of God is a necessary and eternal truth, becoming more and more self-evident to the intellect as it rises to maturity.

But the beginning of things is, by its very nature, a contingent event—which once was not and then came to be—contingent on the free will of the Eternal, and therefore not evident to reason itself, but made known to the understanding by testimony and the reality of things. This sentence is the testimony, and the actual world in us and around us is the reality. Faith takes account of the one, observation of the other.

It bears on its very face the indication that it was written by humans and for humans, for it divides all things into the heavens and the earth. Such a division evidently suits only those who are inhabitants of the earth. Accordingly, this sentence (Genesis 1:1) is the foundation-stone of the history—not of the universe at large, of the sun, or of any other planet, but of the earth and of humans, its rational inhabitants. The primeval event it records may be far distant in point of time from the next event in such a history, as the earth may have existed for myriads of ages and undergone many vicissitudes in its condition before it became the home of the human race.

For all we know, the history of other planets, even of the solar system, may yet be unwritten because there has as yet been no rational inhabitant to compose or read the record. We have no indication of the interval of time that elapsed between the beginning of things narrated in this prefatory sentence and the state of things announced in the following verse (Genesis 1:2).

With no less clearness, however, does it show that it was dictated by superhuman knowledge. For it records the beginning of things of which natural science can take no account. Humans observe certain laws of nature and, guided by these, may trace the current of physical events backward and forward, but without being able to fix any limit to the course of nature in either direction. Not only this sentence, but the main part of this and the following chapter communicates events that occurred before humans made their appearance on the stage of things, and therefore before they could either witness or record them. In harmony with all this, the whole volume is proved—by the topics chosen, the revelations made, the views entertained, the ends contemplated, and the means of information possessed—to be derived from a higher source than humanity.

This simple sentence (Genesis 1:1) denies atheism, for it assumes the being of God. It denies polytheism and, among its various forms, the doctrine of two eternal principles (the one good and the other evil), for it confesses the one Eternal Creator. It denies materialism, for it asserts the creation of matter. It denies pantheism, for it assumes the existence of God before all things and apart from them. It denies fatalism, for it involves the freedom of the Eternal Being.

It indicates the relative superiority in point of magnitude of the heavens to the earth by giving the former the first place in the order of words. It is thus in accordance with the first elements of astronomical science.

It is therefore pregnant with physical and metaphysical, ethical and theological instruction for the first human, for the predecessors and contemporaries of Moses, and for all succeeding generations of humankind.

This verse forms an integral part of the narrative, not a mere heading as some have imagined. This is abundantly evident from the following reasons:

1. It has the form of a narrative, not of a heading.
2. The conjunctive particle connects the second verse with it, which would not be possible if it were a heading.
3. The very next sentence speaks of the earth as already existing; therefore, its creation must be recorded in the first verse.
4. In the first verse, the heavens take precedence over the earth, but in the following verses, all things—even the sun, moon, and stars—seem to be mere appendages to the earth. Thus, if it were a heading, it would not correspond with the narrative.
5. If the first verse belongs to the narrative, order pervades the whole account; whereas, if it is a heading, the most hopeless confusion enters. Light is called into being before the sun, moon, and stars. The earth takes precedence over the heavenly luminaries. The stars, which are coordinate with the sun and ranked before the moon, occupy the third place in the narrative of their manifestation.

For any or all of these reasons, it is obvious that the first verse forms a part of the narrative.

As soon as it is settled that the narrative begins in the first verse, another question needs to be determined: namely, whether the heavens here mean the heavenly bodies that circle in their courses through the realms of space, or the mere space itself which they occupy with their movements. It is clear that the heavens here denote the heavenly orbs themselves—the celestial mansions with their existing inhabitants—for the following compelling reasons:

1. Creation implies something created, not mere space, which is nothing and cannot be said to be created.
2. Since “the earth” here obviously means the substance of the planet we inhabit, so, by the same reasoning, the heavens must mean the substance of the celestial luminaries, the heavenly hosts of stars and spirits.
3. “The heavens” are placed before “the earth” and therefore must mean the reality that is greater than the earth, for if they meant “space” and nothing real, they should not be before the earth.
4. “The heavens” are actually mentioned in the verse and therefore must mean a real thing, for if they meant nothing at all, they should not be mentioned.
5. The heavens must denote the heavenly realities because this imparts a rational order to the whole chapter; whereas an unaccountable disorder appears if the sun, moon, and stars do not come into existence until the fourth day, though the sun is the center of light and the measurer of the daily period.

For any or all of these reasons, it is undeniable that the heavens in the first verse mean the fixed and planetary orbs of space; and, consequently, that these uncounted tenants of the skies, along with our own planet, are all declared to be in existence before the commencement of the six days’ creation.

Therefore, it appears that the first verse records an event antecedent to those described in the subsequent verses. This is the absolute and primeval creation of the heavens and all that is in them, and of the earth in its primeval state. The former includes all those brilliant spheres that are spread before the wondering human eye, as well as those hosts of planets and of spiritual and angelic beings that are beyond the range of human natural vision. This brings a simple, unforced meaning out of the whole chapter and discloses a beauty and harmony in the narrative that no other interpretation can afford.

In this way, the subsequent verses reveal a new effort of creative power by which the pre-Adamic earth, in the condition in which it appears in the second verse, is prepared for the residence of a fresh animal creation, including the human race. The process is represented as it would appear to primeval humans in their childlike simplicity, for whom their own position would naturally be the fixed point to which everything else was to be referred.

היה hāyah — “to be.” It should be noted, however, that the word has three meanings, two of which now hardly belong to our English “to be.”

1. “To be, as an event, start into being, begin to be, come to pass.” This may be understood of a thing beginning to be, אור יהי y^ehiy 'ôr, “be light” (Genesis 1:3); or of an event taking place, ימים מקץ ויהי vay^ehı̂y mı̂qēts yāmı̂ym, “and it came to pass from the end of days.”
2. “To be,” as a change of state, “to become.” This is applied to what had a previous existence but undergoes some change in its properties or relations; as מלח גציב ותהי vatehı̂y n^etsı̂yb melach, “and she became a pillar of salt” (Genesis 19:26).
3. “To be,” as a state. This is the ultimate meaning to which the verb tends in all languages. In all its meanings, especially in the first and second, the Hebrew speaker presumes an onlooker, to whom the object in question appears to be coming into being, becoming, or being, as the case may be. Therefore, it means to be manifestly, so that eyewitnesses may observe the signs of existence.

ובהוּ תהוּ tohû vābohû, “a waste and a void.” The two terms denote related ideas, and their combination marks emphasis. Besides the present passage, בהוּ bohû occurs in only two others (Isaiah 34:11; Jeremiah 4:23), and always in conjunction with תהוּ tohû. If we may distinguish the two words, בהוּ bohû refers to the matter, and תהוּ tohû refers to the form. Therefore, the phrase combining the two denotes a state of utter confusion and desolation, an absence of all that can furnish or people the land.

השׁך choshek — “darkness, the absence of light.”

פגים pānı̂ym — “face, surface.” פנה panah — “face, look, turn toward.”

תהום t^ehôm — “roaring deep, billow.” הוּם hûm — “hum, roar, fret.”

רוּח rûach — “breath, wind, soul, spirit.”

רחף rāchaph — “to be soft, tremble.” Piel, “to brood, flutter.”

והארץ v^ehā'ārets — “and the earth.” Here the conjunction attaches the noun, and not the verb, to the preceding statement. This is therefore a connection of objects in space, and not of events in time. The present sentence, accordingly, may not be closely connected in point of time with the preceding one. To indicate a sequence in time, the conjunction would have been prefixed to the verb in the form ותהי vat^ehı̂y — “then was.”

ארץ 'erets means not only “earth,” but “country, land,” a portion of the earth’s surface defined by natural, national, or civil boundaries; as, “the land of Egypt,” “thy land” (Exodus 23:9–10).

Before proceeding to translate this verse, it should be noted that the state of an event may be described either definitely or indefinitely. It is described definitely by the three states of the Hebrew verb: the perfect, the current, and the imperfect. The latter two can be commonly designated as the imperfect state.

A completed event is expressed by the first of these states (the perfect), or, as they are commonly called, tenses of the Hebrew verb. A current event is expressed by the imperfect participle, and an incipient event by the second state or tense (the current). An event is described indefinitely when there is neither verb nor participle in the sentence to determine its state. The first sentence of this verse is an example of the perfect state of an event, the second of the indefinite, and the third of the imperfect or continuous state.

After an undefined lapse of time from the first grand act of creation, the present verse describes the state of things on the land immediately preceding the creation of a new system of vegetable and animal life, and, in particular, of man, the intelligent inhabitant, for whom this beautiful scene was now to be prepared and replenished.

Here “the earth” is put first in the order of words and therefore, according to the genius of the Hebrew language, set forth prominently as the subject of the sentence. From this, we conclude that the subsequent narrative refers to the land, with the skies from this time forward coming in only incidentally, as they bear upon its history.

We are to remember that the disorder and desolation are limited in their range to the land and do not extend to the skies. The scene of the creation now remaining to be described is confined to the land and its overlying matter in point of space, and to its present geological condition in point of time.

Furthermore, we must remember that “the land” among the antediluvians, and for a long time after Moses, meant as much of the surface of our globe as was known by observation, along with an unknown and undetermined region beyond. Observation was not then so extensive as to enable people to ascertain its spherical form or even the curvature of its surface. To them, it appeared merely as an irregular surface bounded by the horizon.

Therefore, it seems that, as far as the current significance of this leading term is concerned, the scene of the six days’ creation cannot, based on scriptural authority alone, be affirmed to have extended beyond the surface known to man. Nothing can be inferred from the mere words of Scripture concerning America, Australia, the islands of the Pacific, or even the remote parts of Asia, Africa, or Europe, that were still unexplored by humankind. We are exceeding the warrant of the sacred narrative, on a flight of imagination, whenever we advance a single step beyond the sensible limits of the language usage of the day in which it was written.

Along with the sky and its conspicuous objects, the land then known to primeval man formed the sum total of the observable universe. He was as capable, with his limited information, as we are with our more extensive but still limited knowledge, of expressing totality using a periphrasis consisting of two terms that have not even yet arrived at their full range of meaning. It was not the object or the effect of divine revelation to anticipate science on these points.

Passing now from the subject to the verb in this sentence, we observe it is in the perfect state. It therefore denotes that the condition of confusion and emptiness was not in progress but had run its course and become a settled thing, at least at the time of the next recorded event. If the verb had been absent in Hebrew, the sentence would have been still complete, and the meaning as follows: “And the land was waste and void.” With the verb present, therefore, it must denote something more.

The verb היה hāyâh, “to be,” has here, we understand, the meaning “to become.” The meaning of the sentence is this: “And the land had become waste and void.” This offers the presumption that the part of the surface of our globe which fell within the awareness of primeval man, and first received the name of land, may not have always been a scene of desolation or a sea of turbid waters, but may have met with some catastrophe by which its order and fruitfulness had been marred or prevented.

This sentence, therefore, does not necessarily describe the state of the land when first created but merely indicates a change that may have taken place since it was called into existence. What its previous condition was, or what interval of time elapsed between the absolute creation and the present state of things, is not revealed. How many transformations it may have undergone, and what purpose it may have previously served, are questions that did not essentially concern the moral well-being of man and are therefore to be directed to an interpreter of nature other than the written word.

This state of things is finished in relation to the event about to be described. Therefore, the settled condition of the land, expressed by the predicates “a waste and a void,” is in studied contrast with the order and fullness which are about to be introduced. The present verse is therefore to be regarded as a statement of the needs that have to be supplied to render the land a region of beauty and life.

The second clause of the verse points out another striking characteristic of the scene: “And darkness was upon the face of the deep.” Here again, the conjunction is connected with the noun. The time is the indefinite past, and the circumstance recorded is merely added to what is contained in the previous clause. The darkness, therefore, is connected with the disorder and solitude which then prevailed on the land. It forms a part of the physical derangement which had taken place on this part, at least, of the surface of our globe.

It should also be noted that the darkness is described as being on the face of the deep. Nothing is said about any other region throughout the extent of existing things. The presumption is, as far as this clause indicates, that it is a local darkness confined to the face of the deep. And the clause itself stands between two others which refer to the land, and not to any other part of occupied space. It cannot therefore be intended to describe anything beyond this definite region.

The deep, the roaring abyss, is another feature in the pre-Adamic scene. It is not now a region of land and water, but a chaotic mass of turbid waters, floating over, perhaps, and partly laden with, the ruins of a past order of things; in any case, not at present possessing the order of vegetable and animal life.

The last clause introduces a new and unexpected element into the scene of desolation. The sentence is, as previously, connected to the preceding one by the noun or subject. This still indicates a conjunction of things, and not a series of events. The phrase אלהים רוּח rûach 'ĕlohı̂ym means “the spirit of God,” as it is elsewhere uniformly applied to spirit, and as רחף rı̂chēp — “brooded,” does not describe the action of wind. The verbal form employed is the imperfect participle and therefore denotes a work actually in progress. The brooding of the Spirit of God is evidently the originating cause of the reorganization of things on the land, by the creative work which is successively described in the following passage.

It is indicated here that God is a spirit. For “the spirit of God” is equivalent to “God who is a spirit.” This is that essential characteristic of the Everlasting which makes creation possible. Many philosophers, ancient and modern, have felt the difficulty of proceeding from the one to the many; in other words, of evolving the actual multiplicity of things out of the absolutely one. And no wonder! For the absolutely one, the pure monad that has no internal relation, no complexity of quality or faculty, is barren and must remain alone.

It is, in fact, nothing; not merely no “thing,” but absolutely nothing. The simplest possible existent must have being, and a subject to which this being belongs, and, moreover, some specific or definite character by which it is what it is. This character seldom consists of one quality; usually, if not universally, of more than one. Therefore, in the Eternal One, there can be and must be that character which is the concentration of all the causative antecedents of a universe of things.

The first of these is will. Without free choice, there can be no beginning of things. Therefore, matter cannot be a creator. But will needs—cannot be without—wisdom to plan and power to execute what is willed. These are the three essential attributes of spirit. The manifold wisdom of the Eternal Spirit, combined with His equally manifold power, is adequate to the creation of a manifold system of things. Let the free command be given, and the universe starts into being.

It would be rash and out of place to speculate on the nature of the brooding here mentioned beyond how it is explained by the event. We could not see any use of a mere wind blowing over the water, as it would produce none of the subsequent effects. At the same time, we can imagine the Spirit of God manifesting its energy in some outward effect, which may bear a reasonable analogy to the natural figure by which it is represented. Chemical forces, as the prime agents, are not to be thought of here, as they are totally inadequate to the production of the results in question.

Nothing but a creative or absolutely initiating power could give rise to a change so great and fundamental as the construction of an Adamic abode out of the luminous, aerial, aqueous, and terrestrial materials of the preexistent earth, and the production of the new vegetable and animal species with which it was now to be replenished.

This is the indication that we gather from the text when it declares that “the spirit of God was brooding upon the face of the waters.” It means something more than the ordinary power exerted by the Great Being for the natural sustenance and development of the universe which He has called into existence. It indicates a new and special display of omnipotence for the current needs of this part of the realm of creation.

Such an occasional, and, for all we know, perhaps ordinary, though supernatural, intervention is entirely in harmony with the perfect freedom of the Most High in the changing conditions of a particular region, while the absolute impossibility of its occurrence would be completely contrary to this essential attribute of a spiritual nature.

In addition to this, we cannot see how a universe of moral beings can be governed on any other principle. On the other hand, the principle itself is perfectly compatible with the administration of the whole according to a predetermined plan and does not involve any vacillation of purpose on the part of the Great Designer.

We observe, also, that this creative power is exerted on the face of the waters and is therefore confined to the land mentioned in the previous part of the verse and its overlying atmosphere.

Thus, this primeval document proceeds, in an orderly way, to portray to us in a single verse the state of the land before its being prepared anew as a suitable dwelling-place for man.

1. אמר 'āmar — “say, bid.” After this verb comes the thing said in the words of the speaker, or an equivalent expression. In this respect it corresponds with our English “say.”

2. אור 'ôr — “light.” Light is simply what makes a sensible impression on the organs of vision. It belongs to a class of things which occasionally produce the same effect.

3. ויאמר vayo'mer “then said.” Here we have come to the narrative or the record of a series of events. The conjunction is prefixed to the verb, to indicate the connection of the event it records with what precedes. There is here, therefore, a sequence in the order of time. In a chain of events, the narrative follows the order of occurrence.

   Collateral chains of events must of necessity be recorded in successive paragraphs. The first paragraph carries on one line of incidents to a fit resting-place. The next may go back to take up the record of another line.

   Hence, a new paragraph beginning with a conjoined verb is to be connected in time, not with the last sentence of the preceding one, but with some sentence in the preceding narrative more or less distant from its terminating point (see on Genesis 1:5, and Genesis 2:3). Even a single verse may be a paragraph in itself referring to a point of time antecedent to the preceding sentence.

   A verb so conjoined in narrative is in Hebrew put in the incipient or imperfect form, as the narrator conceives the events to grow each out of that already past. He himself follows the incidents step by step down the pathway of time, and hence the initial aspect of each event is toward him, as it actually comes upon the stage of existence.

   Since the event now before us belongs to past time, this verb is well enough rendered by the past tense of our English verb. This tense in English is at present indefinite, as it does not determine the state of the event as either beginning, continuing, or concluded. It is not improbable, however, that it originally designated the first of these states, and came by degrees to be indefinite. The English present also may have denoted an incipient, and then an imperfect or indefinite.

4. ראה rā'âh — “see” ὁράω horaō — אור 'ôr — “emit light,” ראה rā'âh — “see by light.”

5. טיב ṭôb — “good.” Opposite is: רע rā‛.

6. קרא qārā' — “cry, call.”

7. ערב ‛ereb, “evening, sunset.” A space of time before and after sunset. ערבים ‛arᵉbayı̂m, “two evenings,” a certain time before sunset, and the time between sunset and the end of twilight. הערבים בין bēyn hā‛arbayı̂m “the interval between the two evenings, from sunset to the end of twilight,” according to the Karaites and Samaritans; “from sun declining to sunset,” according to the Pharisees and Rabbinists. It might be the time from the beginning of the one to the beginning of the other, from the end of the one to the end of the other, or from the beginning of the one to the end of the other. The last is the most suitable for all the passages in which it occurs. These are ten in number, all in the law (Exodus 12:6; Exodus 16:12; Exodus 29:31, 41; Exodus 30:8; Leviticus 23:5; Numbers 9:3, 5, 8; Numbers 28:4).

   The slaying of the evening lamb and of the passover lamb, the eating of the latter and the lighting of the lamps, took place in the interval so designated.

At the end of this portion of the sacred text we have the first פ (p). This is explained in the Introduction, Section VII.

The first day’s work is the calling of light into being. Here the design is evidently to remove one of the defects mentioned in the preceding verse—and darkness was upon the face of the deep. The scene of this creative act is therefore coincident with that of the darkness it is intended to displace. The interference of supernatural power to cause the presence of light in this region intimates that the powers of nature were inadequate to this effect.

But it does not determine whether or not light had already existed elsewhere, and had even at one time penetrated into this now darkened region, and was still prevailing in the other realms of space beyond the face of the deep. Nor does it determine whether by a change of the polar axis, by the rarefaction of the gaseous medium above, or by what other means, light was made to visit this region of the globe with its agreeable and quickening influences.

We only read that it did not then illuminate the deep of waters, and that by the potent word of God it was then summoned into being. This is an act of creative power, for it is a calling into existence what had previously no existence in that place, and was not owing to the mere development of nature. Hence, the act of omnipotence here recorded is not at variance with the existence of light among the elements of that universe of nature, the absolute creation of which is affirmed in the first verse. (Genesis 1:3)

Then said God.—In (Genesis 1:3), God speaks. From this we learn that He not only is, but is such that He can express His will and commune with His intelligent creatures. He is manifest not only by His creation, but by Himself.

If light had come into existence without a perceptible cause, we should still have inferred a first Causer by an intuitive principle which demands an adequate cause for anything making its appearance which was not before. But when God says, Be light, in the audience of His intelligent creatures, and light immediately comes into view, they perceive God commanding, as well as light appearing.

Speech is the proper mode of spiritual manifestation. Thinking, willing, acting are the movements of spirit, and speech is the index of what is thought, willed, and done. Now, as the essence of God is the spirit which thinks and acts, so the form of God is that in which the spirit speaks, and otherwise meets the observations of intelligent beings. In these three verses, then, we have God, the spirit of God, and the word of God. And as the term “spirit” is transferred from an inanimate thing to signify an intelligent agent, so the term “word” is capable of receiving a similar change of application.

Inadvertent critics of the Bible object to God being described as “speaking,” or performing any other act that is proper only to the human frame or spirit. They say it is anthropomorphic or anthropopathic, implies a gross, material, or human idea of God, and is therefore unworthy of Him and of His Word. But they forget that great law of thought and speech by which we apprehend analogies, and with a wise economy call the analogues by the same name.

Almost all the words we apply to mental things were originally borrowed from our vocabulary for the material world, and therefore really figurative, until by long habit the metaphor was forgotten, and they became to all intents and purposes literal. And philosophers never have and never will have devised a more excellent way of husbanding words, marking analogies, and fitly expressing spiritual things. Our phraseology for mental ideas, though lifted up from a lower sphere, has not landed us in spiritualism, but enabled us to converse about the metaphysical with the utmost purity and propriety.

And, since this holds true of human thoughts and actions, so does it apply with equal truth to the divine ways and works. Let there be in our minds proper notions of God, and the tropical language we must and ought to employ in speaking of divine things will derive no taint of error from its original application to their human analogues. Scripture communicates those adequate notions of the most High God which are the fit corrective of its necessarily metaphorical language concerning the things of God. Accordingly, the intelligent perusal of the Bible has never produced idolatry; but, on the other hand, has communicated even to its critics the just conceptions they have acquired of the spiritual nature of the one true God.

It ought to be remembered, also, that the very principle of all language is the use of signs for things, that the trope is only a special application of this principle according to the law of parsimony, and that the East is especially given to the use of tropical language. Let not western metaphysics misjudge, lest it misunderstand eastern aesthetics.

It is interesting to observe in the self-manifesting God the great archetypes of which the likenesses are found in man. Here we have the sign-making or signifying faculty in exercise.

Whether there were created witnesses present when this divine command was issued, we are not here informed. Their presence, however, was not necessary to give significance to the act of speech, any more than to that of self-manifestation. God may manifest Himself and speak, even if there is no one to see and hear.

We also see here the name in existence before the thing, because it primarily refers to the thing as contemplated in thought.

The self-manifesting God and the self-manifesting act of speaking are here antecedent to the act of creation, or the coming of the thing into existence. This teaches us that creation is a different thing from self-manifestation or emanation. God is; He manifests Himself; He speaks; and lastly He puts forth the power, and the thing is done.

Let there be light.—The word “be” simply denotes the existence of the light, by whatever means or from whatever quarter it comes into the given locality. It might have been by an absolute act of pure creation or making out of nothing. But it may equally well be effected by any supernatural operation which removes an otherwise insurmountable hindrance, and opens the way for the already existing light to penetrate into the previously darkened region.

This phrase is therefore in perfect harmony with preexistence of light among the other elementary parts of the universe from the very beginning of things. And it is no less consonant with the fact that heat, of which light is a species or form, is, and has from the beginning been, present in all those chemical changes by which the process of universal nature is carried on through all its innumerable cycles. (Genesis 1:4)

Then saw God the light that it was good.—God contemplates his work, and derives the feeling of complacence from the perception of its excellence. Here we have two other archetypal faculties displayed in God, which subsequently make their appearance in the nature of man, the understanding, and the judgment.

The perception of things external to Himself is an important fact in the relation between the Creator and the creature. It implies that the created thing is distinct from the creating Being, and external to Him. It therefore contradicts pantheism in all its forms.

Judgment is merely another branch of the cognitive faculty, by which we note physical and ethical relations and distinctions of things. It comes immediately into view on observing the object now called into existence.

God saw that it was good. That is good in general which fulfills the end of its being. The relation of good and evil has a place and an application in the physical world, but it ascends through all the grades of the intellectual and the moral. That form of judgment which takes cognizance of moral distinctions is of so much importance as to have received a distinct name—the conscience, or moral sense.

Here the moral rectitude of God is vindicated, inasmuch as the work of His power is manifestly good. This refutes the doctrine of the two principles, the one good and the other evil, which the Persian sages have devised in order to account for the presence of moral and physical evil along with the good in the present condition of our world.

Divided between the light and between the darkness.—God then separates light and darkness, by assigning to each its relative position in time and space. This no doubt refers to the vicissitudes of day and night, as we learn from the following verse: (Genesis 1:5)

Called to the light, day, ...—After separating the light and the darkness, he gives them the new names of day and night, according to the limitations under which they were now placed. Before this epoch in the history of the earth there was no rational inhabitant, and therefore no use of naming. The assigning of names, therefore, is an indication that we have arrived at that stage in which names for things will be necessary, because a rational creature is about to appear on the scene.

Naming seems to be designating according to the specific mode in which the general notion is realized in the thing named. This is illustrated by several instances which occur in the following part of the chapter. It is the right of the maker, owner, or other superior to give a name; and hence, the receiving of a name indicates the subordination of the thing named to the namer. Name and thing correspond: the former is the sign of the latter; hence, in the concrete matter-of-fact style of Scripture the name is often put for the thing, quality, person, or authority it represents.

The designations of day and night explain to us what is the meaning of dividing the light from the darkness. It is the separation of the one from the other, and the orderly distribution of each over the different parts of the earth’s surface in the course of a night and a day. This could only be effected in the space of a diurnal revolution of the earth on its axis. Accordingly, if light were radiated from a particular region in the sky, and thus separated from darkness at a certain meridian, while the earth performed its daily round, the successive changes of evening, night, morning, day, would naturally present themselves in slow and stately progress during that first great act of creation.

Thus, we have evidence that the diurnal revolution of the earth took place on the first day of the last creation. We are not told whether it occurred before that time. If there ever was a time when the earth did not revolve, or revolved on a different axis or according to a different law from the present, the first revolution or change of revolution must have produced a vast change in the face of things, the marks of which would remain to this day, whether the impulse was communicated to the solid mass alone, or simultaneously to all the loose matter resting on its surface. But the text gives no intimation of such a change.

At present, however, let us remember we are only concerned with the land known to antediluvian man, and the coming of light into existence over that region, according to the existing arrangement of day and night. How far the breaking forth of the light may have extended beyond the land known to the writer, the present narrative does not enable us to determine.

We are now prepared to conclude that the entrance of light into this darkened region was effected by such a change in its position or in its superincumbent atmosphere as allowed the interchange of night and day to become discernible, while at the same time so much obscurity still remained as to exclude the heavenly bodies from view. We have learned from the first verse that these heavenly orbs were already created. The luminous element that plays so conspicuous and essential a part in the process of nature, must have formed a part of that original creation. The removal of darkness, therefore, from the locality mentioned, is merely owing to a new adjustment by which the pre-existent light was made to visit the surface of the abyss with its cheering and enlivening beams.

In this case, indeed, the real change is effected, not in the light itself, but in the intervening medium which was impervious to its rays. But it is to be remembered, on the other hand, that the actual result of the divine interposition is still the diffusion of light over the face of the watery deep, and that the actual phenomena of the change, as they would strike an onlooker, and not the invisible springs of the six days’ creation, are described in the chapter before us.

Then was evening, then was morning, day one.—The last clause of the verse is a resumption of the whole process of time during this first work of creation. This is accordingly a simple and striking example of two lines of narrative parallel to each other and exactly coinciding in respect of time. In general we find the one line overlapping only a part of the other.

The day is described, according to the Hebrew mode of narrative, by its starting-point, the evening. The first half of its course is run out during the night. The next half in like manner commences with the morning, and goes through its round in the proper day.

Then the whole period is described as one day. The point of termination for the day is thus the evening again, which agrees with the Hebrew division of time (Leviticus 23:32).

To make the evening here the end of the first day, and so the morning the end of the first night, as is done by some interpreters, is therefore equally inconsistent with the grammar of the Hebrews and with their mode of reckoning time. It also defines the diurnal period by noting first its middle point and then its termination, which does not seem to be natural.

It further defines the period of sunshine, or the day proper, by the evening, and the night by the morning; a proceeding equally unnatural. It has not even the advantage of making the event of the latter clause subsequent to that of the former. For the day of twenty-four hours is wholly spent in dividing the light from the darkness; and the self-same day is described again in this clause, however we take it.

This interpretation of the clause is therefore to be rejected.

The days of this creation are natural days of twenty-four hours each. We may not depart from the ordinary meaning of the word without a sufficient warrant either in the text of Scripture or in the law of nature. But we have not yet found any such warrant. Only necessity can force us to such an expedient.

Scripture, on the other hand, warrants us in retaining the common meaning by yielding no hint of another, and by introducing evening, night, morning, day, as its ordinary divisions. Nature favors the same interpretation. All geological changes are of course subsequent to the great event recorded in the first verse, which is the beginning of things.

All such changes, except the one recorded in the six days’ creation, are with equal certainty antecedent to the state of things described in the second verse. Hence, no lengthened period is required for this last creative interposition.

Day one—is used here for the first day, the cardinal one not usually being employed for the ordinal in Hebrew (Genesis 8:13; Exodus 10:1–2). It cannot indicate any emphasis or singularity in the day, as it is in no respect different from the other days of creation. It implies that the two parts before mentioned make up one day. But this is equally implied by all the ordinals on the other days.

This day is in many ways interesting to us. It is the first day of the last creation; it is the first day of the week; it is the day of the resurrection of the Messiah; and it has become the Christian Sabbath.

The first five verses form the first parashah (פרשׁ pārāsh) or section of the Hebrew text. If this division comes from the author, it indicates that he regarded the first day’s work as the body of the narrative, and the creation of the universe, in the first verse, and the condition of the earth, in the second, as mere preliminaries to introduce and elucidate his main statement. If, on the contrary, it proceeds from some transcriber of a subsequent period, it may indicate that he considered the creative work of the first day to consist of two parts—first, an absolute creation; and, second, a supplementary act, by which the primary universe was first enlightened.

1. רקיע rāqı̂ya‛ — “expanse;” στερέωμα stereōma — רקע rāqa‛ — “spread out by beating, as leaf gold.” This expanse was not understood to be solid, as birds are said to fly on its face (Genesis 1:21). It is also described as luminous (Daniel 12:3), and as a monument of divine power (Psalms 150:1).

2. עשׂה ‛ āśâh “work on,” “make out of already existing materials.”

The second act of creative power bears upon the deep of waters, over which the darkness had prevailed, and by which the solid crust was still overlaid. This mass of turbid and noisy water must be reduced to order and confined within certain limits before the land can be reached. According to the laws of material nature, light or heat must be an essential factor in all physical changes, especially in the production of gases and vapors. Therefore, its presence and activity are the first thing required in instituting a new process of nature. Air naturally takes the next place, as it is equally essential to the maintenance of vegetable and animal life. Hence, its adjustment is the second step in this latest effort of creation.

Let there be an expanse in the midst of the water. — (Genesis 1:6). For this purpose God now calls into existence the expanse. This is that interval of space between the earth on one side and the birds on the wing, the clouds, and the heavenly bodies on the other, the lower part of which we know to be occupied by the air. This will appear more clearly from a comparison of other passages in this chapter (Genesis 1:14, Genesis 1:20).

And let it be dividing between water and water. — It appears that the water in a liquid state was in contact with another mass of water, in the shape of dense fogs and vapors, not merely overhanging but actually resting on the waters beneath. The object of the expanse is to divide the waters which are under it from those which are above it.

Therefore, it appears that what was really done was not to create the space that extends indefinitely above our heads (which, being in itself nothing, but only room for things, requires no creating), but to establish in it the intended arrangement of the waters into two separate masses: one above, and the other below the intervening expanse.

We know this is accomplished by means of the atmosphere, which receives a large body of water in the state of vapor and holds up a visible portion of it in the form of clouds. These ever-returning and ever-varying piles of mist strike the eye of the ordinary observer. When the dew is observed on the grass, or showers of rain, hail, and snow are seen falling on the ground, the conclusion is obvious: that above the expanse, whether the distance is small or great, an unseen and inexhaustible treasury of water is stored, by which the earth may be perpetually watered and irrigated.

The water vapor itself, as well as the element with which it is mixed, is invisible and intangible. However, when condensed by cold, it becomes visible in the form of mists and clouds and, at a certain point of coolness, begins to deposit itself in the tangible form of dew, rain, hail, or snow. As soon as it becomes perceptible to the senses, it receives distinguishing names according to its varying forms. But the air, being invisible, is unnoticed by the early observer until it is put in motion, when it receives the name of wind. The space it occupies is merely called the expanse—that is, the interval between us and the various bodies that float above and hang upon nothing, or nothing perceptible to the eye.

The state of things before this creative movement may be called one of disturbance and disorder, in comparison with the present condition of the atmosphere. This disturbance in the relations of air and water was so great that it could not be reduced to the present order without a supernatural cause.

We are not informed whether any other gases, noxious or innocuous, entered into the composition of the previous atmosphere, or whether any other ingredients were once held in solution by the watery deep. It is not stated whether any volcanic or plutonic violence had disturbed the scene and raised a dense mass of gaseous damp and sooty matter into the airy region.

We cannot tell how far the disorder extended. We are merely certain that it reached over all the land known to humans during the interval between this creation and the deluge.

Whether this disorder was temporary or long-standing, and whether the change was accomplished by altering the axis of the earth’s rotation (and thus the climate of the land of primeval man) or by a less extensive movement confined to the region under consideration, are questions on which we receive no instruction, because the solution does not concern our well-being. As soon as human welfare becomes connected in any way with such knowledge, it will by some means be made attainable.

The introduction of the expanse produced a vast change for the better on the surface of the earth. The heavy mass of murky damp and water vapor mixing with the abyss of waters beneath is cleared away. The fogs are lifted up to the higher regions of the sky or thinned into an invisible vapor. A leaden mass of clouds still overshadows the heavens. But a breathing space of pure, pellucid air now intervenes between the upper and lower waters, enveloping the surface of the earth and suited for the breathing of the flora and fauna of a new world.

Let it be noted that the word “be” is here again used to denote the beginning of a new adjustment of the atmosphere. This, accordingly, does not imply the absolute creation of our present atmosphere on the second day. It merely indicates its formation out of materials already at hand: the selecting and due allocation of the proper elements; the removal of all now foreign elements to their own places; the dissipation of the stagnant, oppressive mists; and the establishment of clear and pure air suitable for future humans. Any or all of these alterations will satisfy the form of expression used here.

Then God made the expanse. — (Genesis 1:7). Here the distinction between command and execution is made even more prominent than in the third verse. For the word of command stands in one verse, and the effect realized is related in the next. Indeed, we have the doing of the thing and the thing done separately expressed. For, after stating that God made the expanse, it is added, “and it was so.” The work accomplished took a permanent form, in which it remained a lasting monument of divine wisdom and power.

Then God called the expanse, heaven. — (Genesis 1:8). This expanse is, then, the true and original sky. We have here an interesting and instructive example of the way in which words expand in their significance from the near, the simple, the obvious, to the far and wide, the complex, and the inferential. Heaven, in the first instance, meant the open space above the surface in which we breathe and move, where birds fly and clouds float. This is the atmosphere. Then it stretches away into the seemingly boundless regions of space, in which countless luminous and opaque orbs revolve.

Then “the heavens” comes to signify the contents of this vastly expanded expanse—the celestial luminaries themselves. Then, by a still further enlargement of its meaning, we rise to the heaven of heavens, the inexpressibly grand and august presence-chamber of the Most High, where the cherubim and seraphim, the innumerable company of angels, and the myriads of saints move in their respective ranks and realms, serving their Maker and experiencing the joy of their existence. This is the third heaven (2 Corinthians 12:2), to the conception of which the imaginative capacity of the human mind rises by an easy progression. Having once attained this majestic conception, one is then prepared to conceive and compose that sublime sentence with which the book of God opens: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”

The expanse, or aerial space, in which this arrangement of things has been accomplished, having received its appropriate name, is recognized as a completed fact, and the second day is closed.

9. קוה qāvâh, "turn, bind, gather, expect."

יבשׁה yabāshâh, "the dry, the ground." יבשׁ yabēsh—"to be dry." בושׁ bôsh—"to be abashed."

11. דשׁא deshe'—"green thing, grass."

עשׂב ‛ēśāb, "herb."

זרע zēra‛—"seed." זרע zāra‛—"to sow," sero.

פרי pᵉrı̂y—"fruit." ברה pārâh—"to bear"; φέρω pherō.

The work of creation on this day is evidently twofold—the distribution of land and water, and the creation of plants. The former part of it is completed, named, reviewed, and approved before the latter is commenced. All that has been done before this, indeed, is preparatory to the introduction of the vegetable kingdom. This may be regarded as the first stage of the present creative process.

Let the water be gathered to one place; let the ground appear. (Genesis 1:9). This refers to the still overflowing deep of waters (Genesis 1:2) under "the expanse." They must be confined within certain limits. For this purpose, the order is issued that they be gathered into one place; that is, evidently, into a place apart from that designed for the land.

Then called God to the ground, land. (Genesis 1:10). We use the word "ground" to denote the dry surface left after the retreat of the waters. To this the Creator applies the term ארץ 'erets—"land, earth." Hence, we find that the primitive meaning of this term was land, the dry solid surface of matter on which we stand. This meaning it still retains in all its various applications (see note on Genesis 1:2). As it was soon learned by experience that the solid ground was continuous at the bottom of the water-masses, and that these were a mere superficial deposit gathering into the hollows, the term was, by an easy extension of its meaning, applied to the whole surface, as it was diversified by land and water. Our word "earth" is the term to express it in this more extended sense.

In this sense it was the fitting counterpart of the heavens in that complex phrase by which the universe of things is expressed.

And to the gathering of the waters called he seas. (Genesis 1:10). In contrast to the land, the gathered waters are called seas—a term applied in Scripture to any large collection of water, even when visibly surrounded by land, as the Salt Sea, the Sea of Kinnereth, the sea of the plain or valley, the Fore Sea, the Hinder Sea (Genesis 14:3; Numbers 34:11; Deuteronomy 4:49; Joel 2:20; Deuteronomy 11:24). The plural form "seas" shows that the "one place" consists of several basins, all of which taken together are called the place of the waters.

The Scripture, according to its manner, notices only the palpable result—namely, a diversified scene of "land" and "seas." The sacred singer possibly hints at the process in Psalm 104:6-8: The deep as a garment thou didst spread over it; above the mountains stood the waters. At thy rebuke they fled; at the voice of thy thunder they hasted away. They go up the mountains; they go down the valleys; unto the place that thou hast founded for them. This description is highly poetical, and therefore true to nature.

The hills are to rise out of the waters above them. The agitated waters dash up the stirring mountains, but, as these ascend, at length sink into the valleys and take the place allotted for them. Plainly, the result was accomplished by lowering some and elevating other parts of the solid ground.

Over this inequality of surface, the waters, which before overspread the whole ground, flowed into the hollows, and the elevated regions became dry land. This is a kind of geological change which has long been known to students of nature. Such changes have often been sudden and violent. Alterations of level, of a gradual character, are known to be going on at all times.

This disposition of land and water prepares for the second step, which is the main work of this day: namely, the creation of plants. We have now come to the removal of another defect in the state of the earth, mentioned in the second verse—its deformity, or rude and uncouth appearance.

Let the land grow. – (Genesis 1:11). The plants are said to be products of the land, because they spring from the dry ground and a margin around it where the water is so shallow as to permit the light and heat to reach the bottom. The land is said to grow or bring forth plants, not because it is endowed with any inherent power to generate plants, but because it is the element in which they are to take root and from which they are to spring forth.

Grass, herb yielding seed, fruit tree bearing fruit. – (Genesis 1:11). The plants now created are divided into three classes—grass, herb, and tree. In the first, the seed is not noticed, as not obvious to the eye; in the second, the seed is the striking characteristic; in the third, the fruit, in which is its seed, in which the seed is enclosed, forms the distinguishing mark.

This division is simple and natural. It proceeds upon two concurrent marks—the structure and the seed. In the first, the green leaf or blade is prominent; in the second, the stalk; in the third, the woody texture.

In the first, the seed is not conspicuous; in the second, it is conspicuous; in the third, it is enclosed in a fruit which is conspicuous. This division corresponds with certain classes in our present systems of botany. But it is much less complex than any of them and is founded upon obvious characteristics. The plants that are on the margin of these great divisions may be arranged conveniently enough under one or another of them, according to their several orders or species.

After its kind. – (Genesis 1:11). This phrase intimates that like produces like, and therefore that the "kinds" or species are fixed and do not run into one another. In this little phrase, the theory of one species being developed from another is denied.

(Genesis 1:12) Here the fulfillment of the divine command is detailed, after being summed up in the words "it was so" at the close of the previous verse. This seems to arise from the nature of growth, which has a commencement, indeed, but goes on without ceasing in a progressive development. It appears from the text that the full plants, and not the seeds, germs, or roots, were created. The land sent forth grass, herb, tree, each in its fully developed form. This was absolutely necessary if man and the land animals were to be sustained by grasses, seeds, and fruits.

Thus, the land begins to assume the form of beauty and fertility. Its bare and rough soil is set with the germs of an incipient verdure. It has already ceased to be "a waste." And now, at the end of this third day, let us pause to review the natural order in which everything has been thus far done. It was necessary to produce light in the first place, because without this potent element water could not pass into vapor and rise on the wings of the buoyant air into the region above the expanse.

The atmosphere must in the next place be reduced to order and charged with its treasures of vapor before the plants could commence the process of growth, even though stimulated by the influence of light and heat. Again, the waters must be withdrawn from a portion of the solid surface before the plants could be placed in the ground, so as to have the full benefit of the light, air, and vapor in enabling them to draw from the soil the sap by which they are to be nourished. When all these conditions are fulfilled, then the plants themselves are called into existence, and the first cycle of the new creation is completed.

Could not the Eternal One have accomplished all this in one day? Doubtless, He might. He might have effected it all in an instant of time. And He might have compressed the growth and development of centuries into a moment. He might even possibly have constructed the stratifications of the earth’s crust with all their slips, elevations, depressions, unconformities, and organic formations in a day. And, lastly, He might have carried on to completion all the evolutions of universal nature that have since taken place or will hereafter take place until the last hour has struck on the clock of time.

But what then? What purpose would have been served by all this speed? It is obvious that such questions are not wisely put. The very nature of the eternal shows the futility of such speculations. Is the commodity of time so scarce with Him that He must or should for any good reason sum up the course of a universe of things in an infinitesimal portion of its duration? May we not, rather, must we not, soberly conclude that there is a due proportion between the action and the time of the action, the creation to be developed and the time of development?

Both the beginning and the process of this latest creation are precisely adjusted to the preexistent and concurrent state of things. And the development of what is created not only displays a mutual harmony and exact coincidence in the progress of all its other parts, but is at the same time finely adapted to the constitution of man, and the natural, safe, and healthy ratio of his physical and metaphysical movements.