Lead us, Evolution, lead us
Up the future’s endless stair;
Chop us, change us, prod us, weed us.
For stagnation is despair:
Groping, guessing, yet progressing,
Lead us nobody knows where.

Wrong or justice, joy or sorrow,
In the present what are they
while there’s always jam-tomorrow,
While we tread the onward way?
Never knowing where we’re going,
We can never go astray.

To whatever variation
Our posterity may turn
Hairy, squashy, or crustacean,
Bulbous-eyed or square of stern,
Tusked or toothless, mild or ruthless,
Towards that unknown god we yearn.

Ask not if it’s god or devil,
Brethren, lest your words imply
Static norms of good and evil
(As in Plato) throned on high;
Such scholastic, inelastic,
Abstract yardsticks we deny.

Far too long have sages vainly
Glossed great Nature’s simple text;
He who runs can read it plainly,
‘Goodness = what comes next.’
By evolving, Life is solving
All the questions we perplexed.

On then! Value means survival-
Value. If our progeny
Spreads and spawns and licks each rival,
That will prove its deity
(Far from pleasant, by our present,
Standards, though it may well be).

– Evolutionary Hymn, C.S. Lewis

There are, roughly speaking, two kinds of evolutionary theory. One views evolution as a part of the “intelligent design” that God or some deity used to bring about the created the world. The other could be summarized by Lewis in his classic, Mere Christianity:

By one chance in a thousand something hit our sun and made it produce the planets; and by another thousandth chance the chemicals necessary for life, and the right temperature, occurred on one of these planets, and so some of the matter on this earth came alive; and then, by a very long series of chances, the living creatures developed into things like us. – Book 1, ch. 4

It is the second kind of evolutionary model that Lewis skewers in this biting piece of satirical poetry. Lewis lampoons scientific materialism by conducting a hymn—ironically—in praise of evolution.

Technically, the poem is a delight to read. Structured like a classic hymn in six stanzas, the poem follows an A/B/A/B/C-C/B rhyme scheme. It is written in iambic tetrameter, with each line oscillating between 8 and 7 beats, giving it a rhythmic cadence that lends it to the hymnic genre. In the fifth line of each stanza, Lewis relies on assonance to push the reader onto the dramatic turn of the final sixth line—the fourth stanza is especially good with all of the -s, -t, and -ck sounds repeated across the fifth and sixth lines. If you haven’t yet, go back and read the poem out loud.

Themes

Meaningless Progress

The whole poem emphasizes the role of progress, of change. The poem is filled with movement and action for stagnation is despair. The contemplative concern about high-minded ideals like justice or joy are irrelevant while there’s always jam tomorrow / While we tread the onward way. Evolution will grant to us a superior over-man who will replace us, even if he is some kind of beastly monster, Far from pleasant, by our present / Standards, though it well may be.

With his tongue in his cheek, Lewis invites us to reconsider evaluating “progress” as an unqualified good. The question, of course, is what we are progressing to. If we are groping, guessing, yet progressing…nobody knows where, then we aren’t progressing to an ideal, only to whatever the next day brings. Progress is only good to the degree that we know what “good” is.

Moral Relativity

Ask not if its god or devil / Brethern, lest your words imply / Static norms of good and evil / (As in Plato) throned on high. Plato taught that a man was good to the degree that he conformed to the heavenly ideal of Man. Christians teach that one is good to the degree that they conform to the eternal standards of God’s moral Law. These are the scholastic, inelastic, abstract yardsticks that materialists deny. Goodness is more basic; it is survival-value, it is the biological superiority of our progeny, it is simply what comes next.

If there are no universal moral norms throned on high, then all morality becomes relative. Never knowing where we’re going / We can never go astray. The price, however, is steep. If the Nietzschean over-man is beastly by our present standards, if he offers you “bricks and centipedes” rather than bread for moral food (Abolition of Man), you have no ability to criticize him, to say it is evil or unjust. All you have is the ability to state your personal preference. But if he is stronger than you? Your ideals of justice and mercy are only the spent tools of an obsolete model.

The God-Shaped Hole

The fact that the entire poem is structured as a hymn of praise isn’t only a clever jab by Lewis, but also a subtle reminder that mankind was made for worship. If materialistic naturalism is correct, then our innate desire to worship the transcendent is merely a consequence of the evolutionary process. It is either an accidental quirk—the appendix of humanity—or it provides some kind of survival-value for human society. But, at its heart, it is all a sham. There is no great Oz, only the tiny man of “survival-value” behind the curtain of our cravings for the numinous, the transcendent.

Yet, this strikes at the heart of the very thing we crave. We long for more, for Ultimate Reality. And even if we come to the place of the Materialist Magicians (Screwtape), we still will worship and adore something, even if it is the bloodless machinations of the evolutionary process, grinding out the next human.