Nature has two great revelations: that of use and that of beauty; and the first thing we observe about these two characteristics of hers is that they are bound together and tied to each other. The beauty of nature is not, as it were, a fortunate accident, which can be separated from her use; there is no difference in the tenure upon which these two characteristics stand: the beauty is just as much a part of nature as the use; they are only different aspects of the selfsame facts. (2) But if the first thing we observe respecting use and beauty is that they are united in their source, the next thing we observe is that in themselves they are totally separate. We have not the slightest conception of the common root in which these enormous diversities unite, the unity to which they mount up, the ultimate heading out of which both branch, the secret of their identity. It is worth observing, in the history of the mind of this country, the formation of a kind of passion for scenery and natural beauty. This fact cannot well be without some consequences bearing on religion.
I. First, with respect to the place which the beauty of nature has in the argument of design from nature. When the materialist has exhausted himself in efforts to explain utility in nature, it would appear to be the peculiar office of beauty to rise up suddenly as a confounding and baffling extra, which was not even formally provided for in his scheme. There is this remarkable difference between useful contrivance and beauty as evidence of an intelligent cause, that contrivance has a complete end and account of itself, without any reference to the understanding of man; but it is essential to the very sense and meaning of beauty that it should be seen: and inasmuch as it is visible to reason alone, we have thus in the very structure of nature a recognition of reason and a distinct address to reason, wholly unaccountable unless there is a higher reason or mind to which to make it.
II. The beauty of nature is necessary for the perfection of praise; the praise of the Creator must be essentially weakened without it: it must be roused and excited by sight. (1) Beauty stands upon the threshold of the mystical world, and excites a curiosity about God. This curiosity is a strong part of worship and of praise. So long as a man is probing nature, and in the thick of its causes and operations, he is too busy about his own inquiries to receive this impress from her; but place the picture before him, and he becomes conscious of a veil and curtain which has the secrets of a moral existence behind it: interest is inspired, curiosity is awakened, and worship is raised. (2) Nature is partly a curtain and partly a disclosure, partly a veil and partly a revelation; and here we come to her faculty of symbolism, which is so strong an aid to, and has so immensely affected, the principles of worship. The Great Spirit, speaking by dumb representation to other spirits, intimates and signifies to them something about Himself, for if nature is symbolical, what it is symbolical about must be its Author. The Deity over and above our inward conscience wants His external world to tell us He is moral; He therefore creates in nature a universal language about Himself: its features convey signals from a distant country, and man is placed in communication with a great correspondent whose tablet He interprets. And thus is formed that which is akin to worship in the poetical view of nature. While we do not worship the material created sign for that would be idolatry we still repose on it as the true language of the Deity.
III. In this peculiar view of nature, the mind fastening upon it as a spectacle or a picture, it is to be observed that there are two points in striking concurrence with the vision language of Scripture. (1) Scripture has specially consecrated the faculty of sight, and has partly put forth, and has promised in a still more complete form, a manifestation of the Deity to mankind, through the medium of a great sight. (2) It must be remarked, as another principle in the Scriptural representation, that the act of seeing a perfectly glorious sight or object is what constitutes the spectator's and beholder's own glory.
IV. But though the outward face of nature is a religious communication to those who come to it with the religious element already in them, no man can get a religion out of the beauty of nature. There must be for the base of a religion the internal view, the inner sense, the look into ourselves, and recognition of an inward state: sin, helplessness, misery. If there is not this, outward nature cannot of itself enlighten man's conscience and give him a knowledge of God. It will be a picture to him, and nothing more.
J. B. Mozley, University Sermons,p. 122.