They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they

“They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea.” Thus wrote Francis Bacon, the great philosopher of knowledge and inquiry, whose words shine as a beacon for all who seek truth in a world often clouded by doubt. In this single sentence lies the eternal law of faith in discovery — that the limits of one’s vision are not the limits of reality. Bacon speaks to all who journey through uncertainty, who sail the vast ocean of the unknown and, seeing no shore, are tempted to believe none exists. He reminds us that the spirit of discovery belongs only to those who trust what is unseen, who continue to seek even when the horizon yields no promise.

The origin of this wisdom comes from Bacon’s reflections during the dawning age of exploration and reason, when Europe’s thinkers and adventurers alike were confronting the unknown — in the seas, in science, and in the soul. Bacon, the father of the scientific method, understood that discovery is not merely a matter of intellect, but of imagination and perseverance. In his time, men doubted the possibility of new worlds, new knowledge, and new truths. Yet, it was precisely those who refused to give up — who continued their search despite uncertainty — who changed the fate of mankind. To say that one sees “nothing but sea” is to confess discouragement; to insist that “there is no land” is to renounce hope and courage.

Bacon’s words echo the spirit of Christopher Columbus, who, sailing westward across the uncharted Atlantic, faced days and nights of endless water. His crew, weary and afraid, demanded he turn back. The horizon never changed — only the same restless waves meeting the same empty sky. But Columbus, driven by the belief in unseen land, pressed forward. Had he turned back, fearing that “nothing but sea” meant nothing beyond, the world might have remained divided by ignorance and fear. Thus Bacon’s message becomes clear: the great discoverer is not one who finds easily, but one who continues when nothing can yet be seen.

This teaching extends far beyond voyages of the body; it speaks to the voyages of the mind and heart. Every creator, every scientist, every soul seeking truth encounters a sea of uncertainty. The poet who stares at a blank page, the inventor whose experiments fail, the believer who prays into silence — all are sailors upon Bacon’s ocean. It is easy to despair when results do not appear, when progress seems invisible. But the wise know that beneath the horizon lies the hidden shore. The darkness before dawn is not proof that the sun will not rise. It is in the unseen hours that discovery ripens.

The ill discoverer, as Bacon calls him, is not foolish because he cannot see, but because he stops looking. He mistakes delay for defeat. He believes that what is hidden is not real. Such a person lives imprisoned by the boundaries of their own sight, while the true seeker trusts in the unseen currents of possibility. History is full of such seekers — men and women who, in every field of life, refused to give up when the world offered them only doubt. Think of Marie Curie, working tirelessly through long nights, extracting truth grain by grain from the unknown elements of matter. Many called her search futile, but her perseverance revealed the glowing power within the atom — the land beyond the sea.

Bacon’s wisdom is also a warning against the death of wonder. The one who believes that “there is no land” closes the door to discovery. Such minds grow cynical, dismissing what they cannot yet understand. But the universe, vast and mysterious, yields itself only to those who approach it with faith and curiosity. The wise discoverer does not despair at the sight of the sea; he marvels that there is so much yet to explore. He knows that every wave conceals a secret, that every distance holds promise. In this way, the seeker becomes both scientist and poet — one who trusts that truth is always beyond the visible horizon.

So, dear listener, take this teaching into your heart. When your own journey brings you to an endless sea — when you see no progress, no results, no sign of the shore — do not say, “There is no land.” Say instead, “The land is near, though I cannot yet see it.” Keep moving. Keep believing. For discovery belongs to those who endure when all seems empty. Remember Francis Bacon’s words: the eye that sees only water may be blind to the promise of the shore, but the heart that believes will one day stand upon it. The world belongs not to those who doubt the unseen, but to those who, through faith and courage, sail on.