This famous deistic prayer constitutes the twenty-third chapter of Voltaire's Treatise on Tolerance.

It is thus no longer to men that I address myself; it is to thee, God of all beings, of all worlds and all times, if it is permitted of feeble creatures imperceptible to the rest of the universe and lost in its immensity to dare ask something of thee; of thee who has given all and whose decrees are as unchangeable as they are eternal. Deign to look upon the errors inherent in our nature with pity, and may these errors not prove our final downfall. Thou hast not given us hearts so that we should hate each other, nor hands to slit each other's throats. Make us help each other bear the burden of a fleeting life full of hardships and sorrow, so that these little differences between the clothes that cover our frail bodies, between all our inadequate languages, between all our ridiculous customs, our imperfect laws, our senseless opinions, and between all our conditions, so disproportionate in our eyes and so equal in your own; may these tiny nuances that distinguish these atoms called men from one another not become causes of hatred and persecution. May those who light candles at high noon to worship you tolerate those who content themselves with the light from your sun. May those who cover their robes with white linen to say you must be loved not detest those who say the same thing from beneath a coat of black wool. May it be equally good to adore you in a jargon drawn from ancient languages as in a newer jargon. May those whose garments are dyed in red or purple, who dominate a small parcel of some small mud pile of this world, and who possess a few round fragments of a certain metal enjoy what they call grandeur and wealth without pride; and may others see them without envy, for thou knowest that there is nothing to be proud of nor to envy in these vanities.

May all men remember that they are brothers! And hold all tyranny exerted over souls in horror, just as they hold in execration the brigands who take by force the fruit of honest and peaceful labor! If the scourge of war cannot be avoided, let us not hate or destroy each other in the bosom of peace and may we employ the moment of our existence to equally bless in a thousand different languages, from Siam to California, thy bounty, which has given us this moment.